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meters from us was one of the smaller refugee camps of Qunar. Although it was a relatively peaceful camp, a few days ago there had been a man who had just grown too weary of camp life and had lashed out at people with a makeshift shiv, cutting three people.
                  But Bear wasn’t wrong.
                  “Compared to terrorist cells, hostage crises, or drug deal busts, yeah, I guess this is a fucking vacation,” I said dryly.
                  Bear nodded, ignoring my tone. “Exactly,” he said.
                  I leaned back in my own chair.
                  Bear was my second in command and had been with me since our days in the U.S. Army Rangers. He was familiar with my sarcasm and knew when to just fucking ignore it.
                  The other members of Easy Team were scattered around camp, cleaning up or taking a break in the midday heat.
                  As part of an exclusive and highly trained mercenary team, we usually took part in small but very, very crucial missions. We were only tapped when large number companies from Armies couldn’t be used. We were only tapped when regulation and rules of conduct couldn’t be applied to the situation.
                  Easy Team did anything and everything to accomplish a mission.
                  And I hadn’t been exaggerating my list with Bear either. We had done everything from tracking down small terrorist cells to rescuing hostages to busting up drug cartels.
                  And as Captain of Easy Team, I took pride in knowing that though our numbers were small, our men were capable of anything.
                  We were all former Special Forces soldiers who realized that our skills and training weren’t something to waste once we put down the uniform. And in our own ways, we had been contacted by the commander of Easy Team, Commander Wolffe.
                  And under Commander Wolffe’s leadership, we had been sent all over the world, doing our best to maintain peace where we could.
                  So I had been a little surprised when I had been called into Commander Wolffe’s office four weeks ago for out latest assignment.
                  “Qunar, sir?” I asked, surprised.
                  “Consider it a vacation for all the hard work you and your men have done,” he said, completely serious.
                  And it was a break. We had been tapped to guard a smaller, more remote refugee camp in a border town of Qunar. UN forces were having a hard time reaching all the camps and not enough foreign aid was being sent. So Commander Wolffe had been contacted for help from Easy Team.
                  Essentially, we’d just be babysitting. Watch the camp, make sure nothing gets too out of hand, and take it easy for about four months till reinforcements for the UN forces come to relieve us.
                  “After that messy mission in Venezuela, you boys deserve it,” Commander Wolffe said.
                  “Thank you, sir,” I said. This is what passed as vacation in my world. And I felt completely at ease with it. So the vacation would be in a Middle Eastern desert with several hundred refugees.
                  It could be worse.
                  Normally, we’d be patrolling the camp perimeters but at the moment there were UN inspectors present who were inspecting the camp to see just how much reinforcement would be needed.
                  And although they had contacted us for help, generally speaking, they didn’t like to see us when they were around. Easy Team was the stealth force that Armies and governments hated having to admit they needed. We were the Special Forces’ Special Forces.
                  So we took advantage of their visit by making ourselves scarce and