Lured

Chapter 1- Ghost

I watch as she moves through the enemy camp. I was her overwatch and my eyes followed her through the tents. I still felt like shit letting her go into the camp  by herself despite Prices and her own assurances that she would be fine. Even when the enemy soldiers seemed to look in her direction she avoided detection. She managed to find her way smoothly to the command tent without raising an alarm. I had to admit her quick footed moves was much easier to hide than a couple of teams of operatives. 

She spent only several minutes inside the command tent, her expression pinched as she made her way back through the camp almost too careless for words. Price's words came back to me that I shouldn't worry and that she could any issues without a problem. And yet, I watched as she ran blatantly through the middle of the camp in clear view of anyone who was willing to look. Somehow, no one did. She made it back to the edge of the jungle and as I strained to see movement in the foliage, a different movement caught my eye. Four men and a woman stepped out of the command tent. How the hell did she manage to get in and out without being detected?

Concern gripped me as thoughts swirled. She had to be a spy. There was no other way she'd managed to get in and out undetected, let alone with with the intel we needed. 

I heard her before I saw her. Her quick movements giving her away as she tried to get back as quickly as possible. When I finally saw her, her flushed face, sweat dripping down her skin as if she had been exercising for hours, not a fifteen minute brisk walk both ways plus time spent creeping through the camp. My thoughts of her being a spy fled as I saw her. She seemed like she'd exerted far more energy than she really should have. I looked over her smaller frame appraisingly and decided she needed further training. She'd need her fitness to come way up if she was going to keep going on missions.

"I got the intel. Price is not going to like it."

"Good girl," I hum, pleasure thrilling through me that she'd managed the task successfully. 

I give her a moment, and am pleased when I see her recover quickly. We begin making our way back to the extraction point, moving faster and more silently than she had when she was coming back from the camp. 

We make it back well and truly within the time limits Price had set for us and I wondered now why I'd even bothered arguing with him. When the man said something, he was right. I put it down to his experience and knack for knowing things. 

The helo dropped down a ladder, and we climbed up, settling ourselves in and buckling up as it took off. We were back on base several hours later, and I noticed Ceri was looking pale and a bit under the weather. I feared she'd picked something up in the jungle and sent her to the medbay. She gave me a frown, "Need to report to Price. You should come with." She turned and made her way towards Price's office without giving me time to argue. I huffed a sigh and followed after her. 

She had been right. The news wasn't good at all. Plans were in place for a terrorist attack at several major hospitals. We'd need to immobilise more than just the 141 if we were to ensure none of them got hit.

After she made her report she left citing she needed rest. I agreed with her but stayed behind to discuss further plans with Price. After several plans had been discussed, I remembered what I'd been thinking about earlier. A slow anger began to settle deep in my stomach almost making me nauseous as I thought about it more and more.

"Price," I growled out, my Manchester accent thickening. "I think she's a spy."

"Ghost," Price sighed as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. "She's not a spy. I trust her implicitly."

"Why? She got that 'intel' far too easily with too many people in the tent she'd found the intel in."

"Ghost, leave it alone. She's here for the long haul. She owes me a favour. She always pays her debts and is one of the good ones."

"So you knew her before she came here?" I ask, eyebrow raised incredulously.

"Helped her out of a pickle once. I called in my debt to bring her on board."

"Well, what is she then, if she's so trustworthy?"

"Confidential."

"What did you-"

"Simon," Price interrupted my questioning. "You're not usually this chatty. Leave the woman alone or play nice." His tone was final. No point arguing with that tone, I knew I would never win. Yet, I knew he was right, unless it was to quip back sarcastically at Soap, I really wasn't this chatty. Whoever this woman was, I wanted to know everything about her.