Chapter 11 - THE SHADOW OF TASK FORCE BLACK
Admiral Kane did not move from Firing Lane Four for three whole minutes. The desert wind whipped fine granules of alkaline dust across his polished jump boots, yet his gaze remained pinned on the fading silhouette near the outer perimeter fence. Behind him, the junior officers whispered in stunned, hushed murmurs, their previous bravado completely eviscerated by the ragged, coin-sized hole punched dead center through the eight-hundred-meter steel silhouette.
Kane turned slowly on his heel, his face drained of color. He confronted Master Sergeant Ellis, who was quietly wiping brass shavings from the edge of the wooden bench with an oiled rag.
"Who was that woman, Ellis?" Kane’s voice cracked slightly, stripped of its booming aristocratic authority. "Don't play games with me. No civilian contractor handles an M110 like that. She didn't check windage on a Kestrel. She didn't dial dope into the turret. She held off in the reticle by instinct and fired five rounds inside three seconds. Who is she?"
Ellis stopped wiping the bench. He folded the rag with methodical slowness, set it down beside an empty ammo crate, and looked the two-star Admiral dead in the eyes.
"With all due respect, Admiral, you came out here to conduct an inspection on my armory and flex on my personnel," Ellis said, his voice flat and unimpressed. "You saw an unbadged operator in faded fatigues and assumed she was a scrub because she wasn't wearing dress whites or displaying ribbons. If she didn't introduce herself, then her file isn't meant for your clearance level."
Kane stepped forward, his fists clenching at his sides. "I hold a Tier-One Department of Defense security clearance, Sergeant. I command the naval strike group currently anchored off the coast! I have the authority to strip this entire post down to the studs!"
Ellis let out a dry, rasping chuckle. "Sir, your clearance is impressive on a carrier deck. But out here? In the dry dirt where the ghosts live? You don't have the stars to read her jacket. That was Major Vance. Call sign 'Valkyrie.' Formerly lead marksman for Task Force Black before they officially erased the unit from congressional registers."
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Kane’s breath caught in his throat. His chest tightened. "Task Force Black... the Qalat Gorge liquidation? The single operator who eliminated an entire mortar platoon at fifteen hundred meters during the winter offensive?"
"The very same," Ellis replied quietly, tapping the empty chamber of the rifle Kane had carelessly dismissed. "She retired two years ago after taking shrapnel to the spine. She comes here once a month to service rifles for our border detachments because she says the smell of solvent keeps the nightmares away. You just insulted the deadliest sniper this country has produced in thirty years, Admiral. And lucky for you, she’s far more disciplined than you are."
