Prime (Chess Team Adventure, #0.5)

King appraised him with a sidelong glance. It was still a little hard to reconcile this blond man with his punk-rocker goatee and an always ready one-liner, with the guy that had dropped out of the sky wielding .50 caliber death in both hands. He had no doubt of Tremblay’s ability in combat—he’d already witnessed it first hand—but a successful team had to be able to work together every day of the week, not just on the day of the big game.

Two hours ago, it wouldn’t have mattered. Two hours ago, his orders were simple: take the team you’ve got and go after the bad guys. But then, Keasling had taken him aside. “The President has ordered me to put together a new unit; fast, mobile, unlimited resources, non-existent radar signature, if you take my meaning. He and I both agree that you are the ideal candidate for field leader.”

King had been in the Army long enough to be extremely wary of ‘special assignments.’ “Sir, that’s already Delta’s job description.”

Keasling’s expression at that moment had spoken volumes. The general hadn’t seemed particularly happy about this development either, but he wasn’t about to contradict the President. He clearly expected the same from King. “Think of this as the Delta of Delta. The difference is that you will get your orders directly from a handler in the National Security office. Administratively, you’ll still be part of JSOC, but in all other respects, you will completely bypass the chain of command.”

King had decided to keep the rest of his opinions to himself. “When does this go into effect?”

“It went into effect five minutes ago, when the President told me to make it happen. Obviously, we’ve got some growing pains ahead of us, but arrangements are already being made for a live uplink to your new handler.”

Keasling hadn’t asked if he wanted the job; maybe that wasn’t even an option, but King figured the general had known all along that he wouldn’t refuse.

Which meant he now had to think about trying to select a team of operators for this ‘Delta of Delta,’ while at the same time planning for the mission already underway. It was evident that Keasling expected him to build his new team from the current group, but King knew that no matter how outstanding the shooters were as individuals, what really mattered was whether they could work as a team.

He tried the door—unlocked, as he’d been told it would be—and went in. The space beyond was dimly lit by sunlight filtering through the curtained windows, and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the relative darkness. Cardboard boxes and blankets hanging from a web of clotheslines had been used to partition the area, but his attention was immediately drawn to the center of the large open, room where an impromptu assemblage of foam mats had been laid out in a square and bordered with ropes on all four sides. It was a boxing ring.

A strange repetitive noise emanated from the shadows—a slapping sound interspersed with grunts of exertion. He glimpsed a ratty-looking heavy punching bag hanging from a metal frame in a corner of the room. The bag quivered from persistent blows, and as he advanced toward it, he saw the person responsible for the assault on the other side.

Tremblay let out a low whistle. “I think I’m in love.”

King’s first impulse was to agree. The person pummeling the heavy bag was a woman—blonde and petite, wearing a tight-fitting T-shirt that clung tantalizingly to her curves and a pair of short shorts that covered just enough to set the imagination on fire. The perspiration running in rivulets from her face and dampening the fabric of her shirt did nothing to diminish the sheer sexiness of her appearance; in fact, it made her even more appealing.

The scene was surreal; the woman could have been a model, posing for a camera shoot, but there was nothing simulated about the punches she was throwing. She glanced up as they approached, but gave the bag several more hits in rapid succession before formally acknowledging their presence.

“You must be the Delta boys.” She offered a coy grin, and rested her boxing-gloved hands on her hips. “Sorry, you caught me in the middle of my workout. I wasn’t expecting you until later.”

Tremblay matched her smile. “And we weren’t expecting…you.”

“Down boy,” King muttered. He turned to the woman. “What’s the word of the day?”

She raised an eyebrow. “So, right to business? That’s okay. I like that in a man. The word of the day is ‘timberline.’” She paused and locked stares with him. “I’ve shown you mine…”

“The counter-sign is ‘grapefruit.’ I’m King. Laughing boy here is Juggernaut, and the other stooges are Bob and Dark. Are you Baker?”

It had not been made clear if that was her real name or a mission callsign, but when she nodded, Tremblay gave a little gasp of comprehension. “I’ve heard about…” He turned to King. “Do you know who this is? The Legend of Zelda?”

King shook his head, mystified. He didn’t think the other man was talking about the old Nintendo game.

Tremblay turned back to the woman. “That’s who you are? Zelda Baker. The first woman to ever make it through Ranger school.”