‘Delta Dragon Two, this is Guardian Base, over,’ called the intel analyst. Woman’s voice. Sexy. But then again they all sounded sexy to him.
‘Guardian Base, this is Delta Dragon Two. That was fast.’
‘Roger that. Farsar Tejarat comes up as an Iranian medical air compressor manufacturer. The Model 06 doesn’t show in their sales listings. Looks like they’re moonlighting. Serial number 02769 came up on a bill of lading — along with serial numbers 02770, 02771 and 02772 — shipped from Fadakno Piping Company in Tobruk. The phone number on the plate matches a local number for the Fadakno warehouse, over.’
‘Roger, received. Where’s Tobruk, over?’
‘It’s a Libyan deep water port on the Mediterranean, over.’
‘Roger that. Need to brush up on my geography.’
‘Sending e-mail copy to your team now. More specific intel to follow. Guardian Base, out.’
Kozak found the primary drone wedged between two branches about six meters up, and he activated the secondary drone to fly up there and knock the first one free.
The plan was ridiculously simple and should have gone down by the numbers.
However, after several attempts of squinting through the rain and deepening gloom and trying to maneuver the secondary drone just right to force the first one free, the thing just wouldn’t budge, and he feared he’d damage both drones if he continued.
‘It’s not working. Can you climb up there and get it?’ he asked 30K.
‘Are you serious?’
‘Look, man, I still don’t feel good,’ said Kozak, feigning dizziness. ‘Come on, do me a solid.’
‘Hey, my arm hurts,’ said 30K, showing Kozak where he’d been grazed. ‘My monkey skills suck right now.’
‘Are you dizzy?’
‘No.’
Kozak nodded. ‘Then come on.’
After reciting a string of epithets, 30K shoved his reloaded Stoner into Kozak’s hands, then he reached up and grabbed the nearest branch. ‘You know when’s the last time I climbed a tree?’
‘When you were a kid?’
‘No, when I was regular Army back in the ’Stan. Kids were always flying those kites, you know? One kid’s got stuck in a tree. He cried for me to get it down. So I went up there, but some Taliban assholes took advantage of that and started shooting. Got two in the plates before my buddies took ’em out. I mean, how do you like that shit? I’m trying to save a kite for some kid, and those bastards decide to engage me. I mean, I hate fighting against cowards like that. Got no respect for them at all.’
‘Man, that sucks,’ said Kozak, feeling the guilt of pressuring 30K work into his throat. ‘So now you have an aversion to trees.’
‘You could say that.’
‘You get the kite?’
30K gave him a look. ‘Yeah. I got the kite. But it was full of holes.’
‘Swiss cheese.’
‘Don’t talk about food.’
‘You hungry, too?’
‘Dude, I could eat an entire tray of lasagna right now.’
‘And wings. Fifty wings.’
‘At least.’ 30K reached the branch where the drone was stuck and began to inch his way toward the end like a clumsy caterpillar, the branch bending more sharply with each move. ‘Dude, I can’t reach it.’
‘Don’t give up. You’re almost there.’
30K’s attention was diverted away, over Kozak’s shoulder. ‘Aw, hell,’ he said. ‘The Marines are already here.’
‘Then hurry up!’
He shifted forward once more.
And the branch snapped.
EIGHTEEN
Four Colombian patrol boats from the Naval Base ARC Bahía Málaga in Buenaventura came whirring down the river, their pilots throttling down as they drew closer. A half dozen heavily armed Marines stood in each vessel, and the barrels of .50-caliber machine guns extended from bow and stern. The lead boat slowed enough to bump the dock and allow a man wearing a black baseball cap, fatigues and a heavy Kevlar vest to hop out. He strode down the dock, undaunted by the wind or rain, and marched across the shoreline toward Ross and Pepper as, behind him, the rest of the Marines prepared to come ashore.
Why he wore aviator sunglasses in a rainstorm was beyond Ross, but if you stayed in the military long enough, you got used to the eccentricities and superstitions of operators who were all, admittedly, just a little off center. That came with the territory.
The man stopped before them and tugged off the sunglasses to expose the deep scar running from his nose, beneath his right eye, and down toward his earlobe. His mustache and soul patch were patterned after the old rocker Frank Zappa but were pure white, and his eyes were a brilliant blue. Whether he was bald or not would remain a mystery, as his baseball cap remained fixed on his head. He proffered a hand and said, ‘You’re Captain Ross, aren’t you?’
‘That’s right,’ said Ross, taking the hand. ‘They call you Adamo?’
‘Yes, sir. And don’t let my present company fool you. I’m an old ex-Army colonel. Seems like a lifetime ago, but I was on an ODA team myself. Maybe you heard of them: Triple Nickel?’
Ross’s eyes widened. Hell, yeah, he’d heard of them. ODA-555 was one of the first Operational Detachment Alpha Special Forces teams to deploy in Afghanistan after 9/11, and their work there had become legendary among all SF operators. ‘Well, then, sir, it’s an honor,’ Ross answered. He introduced Pepper and Jiménez.
‘I already know Captain Jiménez,’ Adamo said with a knowing grin. He added quickly in Spanish, ‘The captain and I have been working these mangroves for a long time.’
Jiménez gave a weary grin. ‘Too long.’
Adamo finished shaking hands, then regarded Ross. ‘Mitchell needs good people like you. Don’t get discouraged. Now, let me see what you got here.’
Adamo turned away and crouched down over Delgado’s body. He muttered something to himself, studied the man once more, then lifted his voice. ‘Just what I thought. This ain’t him.’
‘What?’ asked Pepper.
Adamo got to his feet. ‘That’s not Delgado.’
‘Bullshit.’ The word came out of Ross’s mouth before he could stop it. ‘We got intel. That’s our man.’
Adamo shook his head.
The branch had cracked, sending 30K sliding forward, but he managed to maintain his grip, even as his legs came swinging around. Now the branch acted like a vine, and he crashed into the trunk with a heavy thud.
When he looked up, he realized he was dangling by a splintering thread, and if he didn’t find better purchase, he was going down the hard way at a rate of 9.8 meters per second squared, according to the math guy who had invented gravity — what was his name, Carl Sagan?
Wise-ass thoughts like that kept him from panicking, he assured himself, but Kozak wasn’t helping matters, screaming for him to hang on. Yes, his ‘little brother’ had an absolutely keen eye for the obvious.
‘Reach out and grab that branch right there,’ hollered Kozak.
30K saw the second branch in question, tried to grab it, couldn’t. ‘Get under me,’ he ordered.
‘What?’
‘I said get under me!’
‘Why?’
‘’Cause I’ll let go, and you’ll catch me.’
‘Are you nuts?’
No, he wasn’t. Those were just more wise-ass remarks to punish Kozak, whose eyes threatened to explode.
‘Dude, wait a minute. Wait a minute.’ Kozak worked the controls on the remote, got the secondary drone back up in the air, and brought it close to 30K, the quadrotors humming loudly in his face. ‘Grab hold in the center.’
‘That thing can’t hold me up,’ 30K shouted.