Beyond the Checkpoint Read online

  Beyond the Checkpoint

  Copyright © 2019 by Addison M. Conley.

  Published by Cold Run Valley Publishing, LLC

  ISBN: 978-0-9980296-2-7 (print)

  Credits:

  Copyedit and Proofreading: Twin Tweaks Editing, JoAnn Collins, twintweaksediting.com

  Developmental Editor: Amber Jost

  Book Design: Maureen Cutajar, Go Published, gopublished.com

  Cover Design: Natasja Hellenthal, Beyond Book Covers, beyondbookcovers.com

  Cover Photo (top): Rawpixelimages

  Cover Photo (bottom): Addison M. Conley, Kabul, Afghanistan.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This novel does not reflect official positions or views of any U.S. government entity, past or present. Nothing in the contents should be construed as asserting or implying U.S. government endorsement of this novel.

  LEGAL NOTICE: The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the written permission of the publisher and the author are illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  To all who served in silence.

  Hold your head high.

  We must not go backward.

  Keep the faith and march on.

  Acknowledgments

  Several people have been instrumental in helping me develop my writing and inspiring me. First, I never would have made the step to publish without the vital work of the Golden Crown Literary Society and the GCLS Writing Academy. Thank you.

  To several terrific authors that I’ve met along the way, thank you for your help and encouragement as I set upon a new endeavor with this book. The list is long, but I would like to give a rousing thanks to Caren J. Werlinger and Alison R. Solomon. They gave me valuable Indie publishing tips, and Caren kindly met me over coffee to offer her expert advice. Also, thank you, Linda North, for remaining a friend even though things got rocky in 2018.

  I can’t say enough great things about my fabulous beta readers: Betsy Carswell, Laure Dherbécourt, Linda North, Danielle Zion, LHK, and Anya Cavalieri. Thank you for making this book better. You pointed out things I never considered.

  A million thanks to the editors for smoothing out the edges: Amber Jost (freelance editor) and JoAnn Collins (Twin Tweaks Editing). In particular, thank you, JoAnn, for being an ally and writing positive comments. No one lives in a vacuum. It’s nice to hear uplifting remarks and stories from our straight allies.

  To the cover artist, Natasja Hellenthal, thank you for working with me and for not freaking out with all my little changes. To the book setter, Maureen Cutajar, thank you for a beautiful design.

  Thanks to my family and friends who kept me sane during several times in my life.

  Lastly, thanks to the readers!!!

  Take care and all the best,

  Addison

  Introductory Note by the Author

  While a work of fiction, Beyond the Checkpoint is based on my experience during three deployments—twice to Afghanistan and once to Iraq. I deployed as a federal employee for the National Geospatial-Intelligence Agency and worked with military units. Like the story, the policy “Don’t Ask Don’t Tell” (DADT) was in place. Under DADT, a service member could be dishonorably discharged. DADT ended in 2011.

  The term Joint Elite Technology Team (JETT), used in this book, is a fictional name but based on a real NSA unit. I figured JETT was easier to remember. Elsewhere, I have made every effort to simplify jargon and acronyms to provide a balance between those in the know and those with little or no military experience or knowledge of the Intelligence Community. For example, I replaced real acronyms like the JIOC and SCIF with the term Operations Center or Ops Center. Instead of JWICS, I wrote classified computer. A glossary of terms and locations is provided in the back.

  This novel is a blend of military action, suspense, and romance. It is about the women forming a relationship as they navigate through their careers. Part of that path is through a military setting. So, if you don’t know much about the military, please don’t get hung up on rank. If you’re military and unfamiliar with the national-level intelligence agencies, the military portion in this book may be unlike anything else you’ve ever experienced.

  Sincerely,

  Addison M. Conley

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Introductory Note by the Author

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Glossary of Terms

  Locations

  Final Note by the Author

  About the Author

  PART I

  2008

  Chapter 1

  March 2008 – West Point, Virginia

  The smell of burning rubber filled Ali’s nostrils, and a sick, queasy feeling settled in, followed by heat spreading through her body. Her head spun, and her stomach churned.

  “Stop! Please stop and let me out!” When he didn’t respond, she shouted, “I’m going to be sick! I need fresh air!”

  He radioed control through his headset, but instead of slowing down, he sped toward the curve. After fishtailing, he spun the car around, stopping next to a barrier and the viewing platform with precision. “You need to finish all the sections to pass.”

  Ali swallowed the bile down and jumped out of the car. “Yep. I need a few minutes to calm down.”

  After stumbling past the man monitoring the track, she plopped down on a nearby bench. With her head slouched between her knees, she sucked in some deep breaths. Get a grip. Breathe. You can do this.

  Another instructor thrust a ginger ale into her hands. “Take a few sips. Slowly. We’ll start you back up when the others finish.”

  As her fingers curled around the drink, she abruptly dropped it, then ran over to the nearby trashcan. Her body heaved as her breakfast spewed out, leaving a stale, sour taste in her mouth. Footsteps grew louder as she gripped the rim of the trashcan.

  A water bottle came into view. After several seconds, he softly said, “Don’t w
orry. It happens to a lot of people. You’ll get used to it. Go ahead, rinse out your mouth.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I put another can of ginger ale on the bench. Try to drink it. It’ll help.”

  Still trembling, she stumbled over to the bench, plopped down, and sipped the ginger ale. Am I making a mistake? I’m preparing to enter a war zone. How crazy am I?

  Tires screeched, and the training car pulled up. Ali spilled soda on her jacket and tried to brush it off as Jack and Wendy bounced out like kids who just finished a carnival ride.

  “Yahoo! That was a blast.” Jack grinned. “Jesus Ali, you still look a little pale. You sure you’re cut out for this?”

  “Shut up, Jack!” Wendy slugged him on the arm. “She’ll be fine. Give her a few.” Her frown turned into a gleaming grin when she turned back to Ali. “But it was fun.”

  This course was the first time Ali had met Jack and Wendy, who seemed excited about their assignment of traveling throughout Afghanistan and working with the locals. But Ali’s job did not list extensive travel as a requirement.

  “Ready to go?” The instructor stood before her with his hands on his hips.

  Ali probably looked like hell, but there was no way she was giving up. She mouthed, “Ready,” as she stood, hoping he wouldn’t see the slight wobble. She mustered all of her energy. “Let’s rock and roll.”

  “Okay, I want two of your best attempts before I critique you, then we will do it again and again until it becomes second nature.”

  She peeled off down the stretch, pushing the speed up to eighty-five miles per hour. With the instructor’s cue, she applied the brakes within the specified distance and sharply turned the wheel. The tires squealed, rubber burned, and acid crept back up into her throat, but she swallowed it down. The vehicle skidded sideways before snapping one hundred and eighty degrees. She sped up again. This time, the instructor didn’t give her a heads-up. She completed the turn near the outer boundary marker and was thankful the track had extra room around the perimeter for near misses. Slowing down, she waited for his assessment.

  “Not bad. Do four more.” He cocked an eyebrow. “This time, tighten the turn and don’t hesitate. Once you’ve rounded, give it the gas and go faster.”

  Ali interpreted his look as get off your ass. She wasn’t backing down and took the dare. She slammed down the gas pedal.

  “Two more.” The instructor’s voice crackled in her helmet headset.

  Jack was right. It was a blast. She stopped clenching the wheel and gradually sensed how far she could push the vehicle.

  “Gee, you fooled me. I give you a solid B. Now, we’re going to add the other car into the mix. Remember how it’s done?”

  “Yeah. Match the speed of the car in front, align my side front wheel with the other car’s rear wheel. Turn slightly into them while accelerating. The front vehicle will go into a spin that the other driver can’t control, and I blast past him.”

  “You got it.” He motioned for her to begin.

  The maneuver sounded deceptively simple, and to her amazement, it was. They did this drill four times.

  “Now he’s going to chase and spin you. Let him the first time. Afterward, I want you to try to avoid and outrun him.”

  “And do the high-speed turns?”

  “You shouldn’t have a problem. Let’s go!”

  When the session ended, Jack and Wendy rushed up to high-five her. A strong feeling of accomplishment washed over her.

  “All right folks, ready for the Shooting Gallery?” The instructor laughed. “Ali, you’re up first. Yesterday was just an introduction. Take it up a notch today.”

  “I feel the need for speed.” Jack grinned and slapped her on the back.

  The Shooting Gallery was a makeshift series of alleys where they practiced scenarios of being attacked. Even though the participants playing the bad guys only shot blanks, the loud popping and rattling of rapid-fire made her pulse race, her mouth go dry, and her muscles quiver.

  They piled into the SUV, and Ali drove in. The high side barriers blocked any view over the top. Other junk vehicles and a couple of buses were parked along the route. After the second turn, a car came into view, traveling at them head-on. As instructed, she put the vehicle in reverse and drove backward as the bad guys shot at them. She accelerated, hearing the instructor scream, “GO FASTER!” After miraculously maneuvering around a couple of corners, she clipped the last one before clearing the track, jolting everyone and adding a new dent to the beat-up SUV.

  “Good job! Ready to go again?”

  Jack and Wendy congratulated her with whoops and hollers from the back seat. The instructor flashed Ali a grin. “Do it!”

  She crept down into the alley. Much better than yesterday. It’s kind of fun. Halfway through, her muscles relaxed, then a car shot out in front while another SUV blocked the rear. Without warning, the engine died. Ali glanced at the instrument panel and turned the key but couldn’t get it started. By now, the deafening sound of rapid gunfire filled the air from all directions. At last, her adrenaline kicked in. She burst out and sought cover.

  “Stop!” The instructor shouted over the radio, and the gunfire tapered off. “Okay, what did you do wrong? Think about the videos and our discussion on assassinations.”

  “We froze for a few seconds,” Ali said.

  “Yes, but more than a few. And when are you most vulnerable?”

  “When not moving,” Wendy added.

  “In real life, you’d be dead or severely wounded. Remember, you must immediately decide whether to get out and seek cover—”

  “Or ram a vehicle to escape,” Ali answered.

  A smile lit his face. “Yes, but this is a class. We’re not going to practice ramming, so I cut the engine. Now, hop in. This time, I want you jumping out as fast as possible.”

  After each had repeated the exercise, exhaustion began to creep in, but they still had another hour or so to go.

  The instructor clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “It’s time to increase the difficulty. You’re going to put on body armor, strap on an empty sidearm, and keep drilling.”

  Jack sat in the driver’s seat, and Wendy and Ali were in the back. The instructor threw in a couple of heavy equipment bags, one between them and another on the floorboard. “Trying to make it real folks.”

  The instructor took the front passenger seat. He was a tall guy with broad shoulders, and Ali could barely see over him. This time when the SUV stalled, Ali didn’t hesitate.

  “Stop! Stop! Stop! Everyone, remain in position. Nobody moves!” The firing ceased, and she froze.

  “Ali,” the vehicle instructor curled his finger, wiggling it several times. “Follow me.”

  Shit, now what’s wrong?

  On the other side, Wendy was halfway out with Jack’s hands gripping the collar of her body armor vest.

  “Jack, what the fuck is this mess?” The instructor barked.

  “Wendy got stuck. I was helping her.”

  “No. What are you supposed to do?”

  Jack didn’t answer, and the instructor turned to Ali. “Do you have the answer for him?”

  “Take cover and lay down suppression fire to protect you and her. She has to be responsible for herself.”

  “Correct, Ali.” The instructor kicked the side of the SUV. The loud noise made Ali jump. “Jack, your way is the surest way to get you both killed! If they shot you, there’s a good chance your body would fall onto her. You’re what?” He sized Jack up and down. “About five foot ten and a hundred and seventy pounds? That combined with armor and gear means a shitload of weight lying on top of her. She’d have no chance to escape. Even if you weren’t shot, you’d probably break her neck trying to pull her out. I’m sure she would appreciate your effort if the vehicle was on fire, but it’s not.”

  The instructor rubbed his head. “Look, I know you’re trying to be helpful, but it’s critical that each person be responsible for themselves. Take cover
and lay down suppression fire. Assist after the situation is contained.” He jabbed his finger in the air. “I can’t stress this enough. An object in motion is harder to hit. It doesn’t matter if it’s you or the vehicle. Every fraction of a second you hesitate and don’t move increases your chances of getting hurt or killed. Think about that. Tomorrow at 0700, I’ll review that point and take any further questions that you have. Dismissed.”

  Ali trudged off to her rental car, dreading the forty-five-minute drive back to the Richmond hotel. Damn, I’m tired.

  “Ali! Someone needs to talk to you in the office.”

  What now? She followed the instructor into a cramped room. The dirty shade was pulled down, blocking the final rays of sunshine. A man in a crisp business suit flashed his NGA ID badge from her agency, the National Geospatial-Intelligence Agency. The strong smell of his cologne—something musk and leather—hit her as he hastily introduced himself and stuck out his hand. She shook it even though she hadn’t washed the dirt and sweat off her own.

  “What can I do for you, sir?”

  “I was traveling from Norfolk Naval Base to headquarters, and they requested I come by and speak with you. There’s an immediate need for your skills and experience.”

  “How immediate?” A lump formed in Ali’s throat under his sharp gaze.

  “We need you in Afghanistan by mid-April.”

  “That’s much earlier than I expected. How much will I be traveling?”

  He crossed his arms. “Your job requires interaction with others. Think of it this way. The opportunities to use your newly acquired skills will be plenty.” The one side of his mouth curled.

  Ali swallowed. The biggest killer of coalition forces was improvised explosive devices, and the enemy was getting a lot deadlier with their design, particularly with radio and cell phone controlled detonators.

  “What’s the assignment?”

  “You’ll be with JETT.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Joint Elite Technology Team. NSA has a JETT at every major base throughout Afghanistan. It’s a little different from your other NSA assignments, but you’ll be fine. This team operates from the Operations Center inside the International Security Assistance Force’s headquarters at Kabul. That’s all I can tell you in this room.”