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  THE ETERNAL DEFIANCE

  Copyright © 2016 by SHARON LEA FORD

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the Author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, situations and incidents are the product of the author's imaginations or are used fictitiously.

  Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Published in the US

  Digitally by CreateSpace

  ISBN: 13: 978-1544614335

  Cover Art by Sharon Lea Ford

  THE ETERNAL DEFIANCE

  By Sharon Lea Ford

  THE ETERNAL DEFIANCE

  SHARON LEA FORD

  Chapter ONE

  Brazil

  One lone figure outfitted in tactical gear knelt silently in the tall grass and watched through his binoculars, waiting for the signal.

  It was hot, steaming hot. And for the past hour the mosquitos were relentless in their plight to suck the last bit of blood from his face.

  Only the sound of cicadas singing in the nearby trees were heard when a voice from the two-way radio broke the eerie silence. “Radio check, see anything yet? Over.”

  “No, only the usual, copy,” King responded softly without taking his eye off the target.

  “Roger that.”

  ** *

  The five special ops team members were un-known to civilians, invisible and specially handpicked from around the world. They were known to get the job done when no one else could or would.

  Their tactical team was led by Special Forces Michael Bernard, locally known in the field as Mad Mike, and could be one hell of a mad bastard at times, but loyal.

  Next in line were Black Scorpion, King, Rapper and Ace, all of which who had at least twenty years training and experience between them.

  The compound which the team had under surveillance for the last twenty four hours was hidden deep in the Amazon jungle about 2km from the Amazon River, and was known to be the headquarters of none other than the German dictator, Armin Schmidt. Until recently no one had heard or seen of the man for over a decade. He was to be trialled for murder for at least a hundred deaths of innocent men, women and children from all whom came from the Hutua tribe in West Africa.

  All was quiet this particular day. One guard stood by the door of the northern side of the building and hadn’t moved for the last hour. Two guards stood by one of their army vehicles, one with his head under the hood of the bonnet while the other took a drag of his cigarette.

  There was an uneasy pause for a moment when suddenly over the radio King heard. “Get out of there now, all hell’s broken loose. We’re taking on fire. Get to the extraction point. I repeat get out now.”

  “Sir, what’s your status? Over,” he snapped.

  As soon as Black Scorpion’s radio went dead, King knew there was trouble, but what… was unknown.

  “This is King any friendly’s out there, over?”

  He tried again. “Mike… there’s no response from Black Scorpion and there’s no suspicious activity from Schmidt’s hideout, over.” But there was no answer from any of his team.

  Contemplating on what to do next, King decided to ignore his commander’s orders and not leave his post. If the team were captured then he’d need to stay put and wait. Then again if he called for backup, he could jeopardise the whole mission and put everyone at risk.

  He wasn’t going to panic. It was only until he heard a twig snap from behind him that he began to feel his nerves tense.

  With a racing heart King slowly turned his head around to find one very large dark male hovering above him with a cheesy grin plastered across his face.

  “Well… well look what we have here,” he announced in a low Spanish accent.

  And without warning before King had time to react he caught a glimpse of the butt of his rifle career toward the side of his head.

  Groggy King felt the tautness around his wrists as his hands had been bound by rope. Trained to withstand pain he wasn’t going to let fear consume him as his capturer dragged him up to his feet. He didn’t understand much Spanish, only a few words, but it didn’t take a genius to know that they were pretty pissed off. So he assumed it would be a better idea to do as he was told.

  The larger soldier of the two obviously had a higher rank than the other, King noted, the way he gave the orders and the other just nodded quietly like his dog.

  King knew he had to keep his wits about him if he was going to survive the imminent interrogation in which was a certainty. He knew only too well of the reputation these soldiers had toward westerners.

  After a short walk through the shrubbery King was escorted into the large compound where he and his team had under surveillance.

  Shaken and still a little dazed, a young, but muscular man approached him. And with an expressionless face he began to yell. “Usted— Cómo te llamas?”

  “Cómo te llamas?” he repeated over and over, but King didn’t understand.

  “I don’t know,” he eventually responded in an unruffled tone.

  Frustrated the man grunted before finally speaking in broken English. “You… people are all the same. You come here… to our country and… expect to be treated with respect, and after a short pause he added. “Where is your commander?”

  King just shook his head. He didn’t know what had happened to his team. As far as he knew they had been captured too.

  The man pointed to a chair in the middle of the room. It had straps attached to the legs and arm rests, and King suddenly came to the realization what his fate was about to be. Still in a defiant manner he said “I swear I don’t know anything. I lost radio contact with my commanding officer the same time I was discovered by your men.”

  But his capturers didn’t listen. He was dragged to the chair, and elbowed to the side of the head a couple of times by one of the men.

  Overpowered King closed his eyes, took in a deep breath as he knew this was going to be one hell of a beating.

  Chapter TWO

  Black Scorpion hid quietly in the canopy of a tall tree and observed the compound from the safety of the camouflaged foliage.

  Five foot-ten, but lean, Black Scorpion had no trouble climbing up a tree and squeeze into the tightest places. An ex cage fighter, and the temperament of a Pit-bull no one ever dared to mess with the man.

  From where he was situated he could see almost every angle of the south end, bar one corner. On the ground to his left crouched behind a boulder Mad Mike and Rapper sat quietly peering down the scopes of their rifles waiting for the signal before they could make their move.

  Mad Mike muttered in a low tone to Black scorpion. “Radio check over. Do we have an ETA? Over.”

  “King said there’s no change. Stand by, over.”

  “Copy that, over.”

  “Wait where’s Ace? Over,” Black scorpion asked nervously. He wasn’t in position and for a second he thought the man might have gone ahead without authorization. When suddenly to his own horror he watched as one by one his team were flanked from behind.

  Fear and anger pulsated through his veins as it wasn’t the enemy who had taken his men out, but one of his own.

  Ace… who had only joined the team about six months ago drew his blade and sliced the jugular of Mad Mike while his head was turned.

  Mad Mike went down like a ton of bricks and it looked as if it were all over for him pretty quick.

  Rapper obviously surprised by the attack didn’t have a hope in hell and his fate was decided soon after.


  As Rapper reached for his weapon Ace plunged his commando blade through Rapper’s chest and dropped to the ground instantly.

  It was all over within seconds. And that’s all Black Scorpion had only seconds to warn King of the deception that just went down.

  Quickly and quietly he called him on the radio, but didn’t have time to go into detail. He had to retaliate before he missed his opportunity.

  Ace obviously unaware that his traitorous slaughter had been witnessed by anyone, he didn’t see what was going to happen next. Black Scorpion lined up a shot with his sniper rifle and fired.

  Unfortunately the first bullet missed his head, but scraped passed his right ear and spun him around like a top.

  The second bullet didn’t miss. It hit him square in the back of the head and Ace went down fast and heavy.

  Black Scorpion didn’t have time to make sure if he was dead. Regrettably his location would most likely have been discovered by now so he had to make a quick decision and leave King behind. He hoped to hell he’d follow his orders and headed to the extraction point as ordered.

  He knew he could look after himself. A black belt in martial arts, a black belt in army combat and the toughest exterior like no other man he’d ever had the privilege to serve with.

  But little did he know that his position had already been compromised, and he too now was in eminent danger.

  Black Scorpion knew he couldn’t trust anyone now. Someone high up in the ranks was dirty and had done the unthinkable. But who… he wondered. And the only way to survive was to find the rat who betrayed him and his team before the bastard had a chance to murder anyone else in cold blood.

  Quietly and assuredly Black Scorpion raced through the jungle and vanished from sight.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Bruised and beaten King ran for his life. He managed to escape not before taking out a few of his enemy’s. But without any weapons he was powerless against their firepower and numbers. There’ll be time later to retaliate he thought and for now it was time to get the hell out of this hell hole.

  The rain beat hard against his face as he weaved in and out of the jungle, ducking under branches and jumping over logs. Unsure of which direction he was heading he just kept moving as fast as he could.

  With only a singlet and Camo pants his bare feet struck hard against the undergrowth sending spikes of pain up his legs and through his body. but adrenalin kept him going.

  For only a second he glanced back to find one of the soldiers closing in on him. With a rifle pointed in his direction and then he felt it hit. Instantly agony gripped through his left bicep, and unexpectedly threw him off his feet, causing him to stumble. Eager to keep fighting and stay alive King regained his footing once more.

  Hesitantly he glanced at his arm where the bullet had struck. It had gone straight through the muscle and out the other end, and unfortunately was bleeding like a sucker. King knew if he didn’t get some pressure on it soon, he was going to lose too much blood and possibly pass out before escaping out of this bloody jungle.

  With his enemies fast approaching he managed to reach the river’s edge. But with a drop of about fifty feet, it was clear that if he didn’t jump for it then he was going to die anyway.

  There was no time to waste, King backed up a little and then went for it. With one huge step he leaped over the rocky edge and into wild rapids below.

  With tremendous force his feet struck the cold water and within seconds his body had torpedoed to the depths of the icy abyss.

  Every sense in his being told him to dig deep and not to give up. So with the last ounce of air left in his lungs, burning in pain and crying out for oxygen, hastily he ascended upward toward the water’s surface.

  Finally gasping for air and life once more he bobbed in and out of the relentless white-water.

  From side to side he was thrust around like a washing machine just narrowly missing a huge rock to the left.

  He had to make it he thought. There’s no way I’m going to die in this god forsaking jungle without finding out what happened to the rest of the crew.

  Luck finally came his way he anticipated when just beyond was a small sandy beach to the left of the river. But as he struggled to stay afloat and surge toward it he found himself thrust in the other direction toward the jagged rocks.

  With no energy King still surged on. If the unforgiving rapids were going to take him then he knew he’d tried his best and today will just be the day.

  His pants were heavy like a wet sponge and felt like he was being pulled down with restraints. Slowly he began to slip under the cold surface and sucked under with the current.

  Close to unconsciousness King felt a tug to his body like bait dangling on the end of a fishing line. And with one quick yank he was pulled up out of the white-wash and left resting on the water’s edge, choking for air.

  With waterlogged eyes and now empty lungs King stared up at his rescuer, a native female.

  The stranger gazed back at him with a warm beholding smile.

  And finally King let out a huge sigh of relief and a real sense of hope was felt.

  Chapter FOUR

  The Commonwealth bank,

  Martin place, Sydney Australia

  Dressed in a dark grey business suit, white blouse and matching six inch heels, Blake Forbes strolled with poise toward the front counter and asked, “I’d like to open my deposit box thanks.”

  “Please place your finger print here Madame,” the mature gentleman asked with a proficient tone.

  After the green light and without a sound Blake just gave the man an assured, but pleasant smile.

  The gentleman escorted her into a small room with rows, from floor to ceiling of numbered draws. She nodded and said, “thank you.”

  After he departed, Blake opened one of the draws and placed it on the table situated in the centre of the room. There were a few fake passports, cash, documents and a microchip.

  After studying it for a moment she then slid her skirt up and placed the microchip into a small pouch attached to her inner thigh. She knew it possessed dates and names of people who would do anything to retrieve the information on it.

  Hired by Mr Smith to locate and steel the sensitive government information she knew it would be a sweet payout and finally escape the clutches of the mob boss for good.

  Knowing the location of the microchip was a piece of cake. Blake was a looker. She could manipulate and twist any man around her little pinkie when she wanted to. The crooked government official gave up the information so easy for a one night stand. Now all she had to do was to get away with it and mail the chip to a private P.O Box that can’t be traced back to anyone, especially her.

  With her thoughts only on one game plan, Blake placed the deposit box back securely and exited the room.

  Standing patiently just outside the door the banker asked, “Will that be all today Madame?”

  “Yes thank you,” she responded assertively, but with a contented grin.

  The faint sounds of her heels tapped in sync along the white granite floors as she walked through the main building and toward the front entrance. But she didn’t have time to admire the architecture. A suspicious looking character caught her eye standing against one of the large pillars to her left.

  Dressed in a cheap blue suit and holding a newspaper he looked out of place. With piercing black eyes he glanced over his dark sun glasses and gazed intensely as she passed.

  Paranoid and uncertain of his purpose she picked up her pace and quickly slid behind the next pillar to her right and hoped he didn’t see her evasion.

  Unsure of her pursuer she nervously waited patiently when he appeared before her suddenly.

  Only an arm’s length away he stood there anxiously towering over her small frame. And she was now certain that it wasn’t paranoia, he was definitely out to harm her.

  She detected his quick glance toward an armed guard standing at the door entrance only a few feet away from them bef
ore reaching into his suit jacket for what looked like a Beretta.

  But with an element of surprise she thought would probably be her best and only way of dealing with the situation. Blake swiftly raised her elbow, rammed it into his Adams apple and crushed his wind pipe.

  She knew it wouldn’t stop him permanently, but enough to give him the slip at least she thought.

  As he slowly slid down the pillar gasping for air, Blake dashed toward the door unnoticed and slipped outside.

  In the early morning rush people stopped to stare on the street as the alarm bells were heard in the background.

  Blake walked on unfazed and undeterred. She had a contract to do. It was money in the bank and one step closer to freedom.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Since the mission in Brazil had gone sour two years ago and the whole team had disappeared without a trace. Even after King had been captured tortured and finally escaped the clutches of those animals he still had unanswered questions. Since closing the file two years ago it was all hushed up and no one was talking. He knew the government was withholding information and was placed on a microchip. It was all somehow tied into the whole mission and was determined to find out.

  Since returning from Brazil, King left the Special Forces and not knowing who to trust or why, no one could give him any answers. He decided to turn his talents into cash and become a hired assassin.

  With enemies in the government and hired guns now against him he was still determined more than ever to get to the bottom of it.

  Only last week he was contacted by one of those mob bosses. Contracted to retrieve a rogue in the ranks he didn’t care. It was just one step closer to the person who betrayed his trust and his duty to his fellow man.

  This should be an easy job. Just go in—get the target and get back out. But still felt a twinge of uneasiness deep down in the pit of his stomach.