SIXTY
30K reached the rally point at the CRRC first, switching off his active camouflage and sweeping the area to be sure he hadn’t been followed. Then he dropped his pack and sat on it, keeping his Stoner at the ready.
He glanced up at the shafts of morning light filtering down through the canopy, gnats swarming in the beams, the humidity beginning to rise. The place was a sauna, all right, and by late afternoon he predicted heavy rains.
Sometimes, when he had too much time to think, he’d take a hard look at his surroundings and wonder: is this where I’m going to die? Does it meet all my expectations? Or is it just some disgusting hellhole and I’m going to become another statistic whose name can’t even be revealed?
No, they weren’t here for the glory, but he was, after all, a man, and a little recognition for laying down his life for his country wasn’t such a bad thing, was it? He’d want his family to know that he’d fought and died for their freedom, and that his actions had been worth the sacrifice.
He decided right then and there that he would not die here on this island. Nope. This place sucked. And there was still too much work to do, too many people to piss off –
And one of them came hustling over, his green outline flickering like kryptonite in the HUD.
‘Hey,’ said Pepper, shifting around a tree and reaching the boat. He placed his palms on his hips, leaned over, and took in long, slow breaths.
‘You okay, Grandpa?’
‘I’ll kick your ass, punk.’
‘Any time, any place.’
‘Hey, how much C-4 we got?’
‘You know what we got. This was a recon. We came light, a block apiece.’
‘That won’t do shit.’
‘We hitting them tonight?’
Pepper shrugged.
Kozak and Ross arrived, and the captain quickly gathered them around. ‘We’ve got three High-Value Targets here, and one wild card,’ he said. ‘No warning or ops order yet, but I’m betting the major’s already working on it.’ Ross uploaded the intel photographs Mitchell had sent him of Bahar to the team’s HUDs, and he gave them a capsule summary of the man’s involvement.
‘And the wild card?’ asked Kozak once Ross was finished.
‘Guess who?’ Ross said.
‘Delgado?’ 30K said, lifting his brows.
‘Yeah, he’s here. Might be working for Valencia.’
‘I don’t get it,’ said Kozak. ‘His cover was blown, the FARC kidnapped him in Colombia, then he manages to trick us and escape. How can he be working for Valencia if they know who he is?’
‘If he’s still working for Valencia, then I’m sure it’s complicated. Bottom line: We might be tasked with bringing him in alive,’ said Ross. ‘And to be honest, I’d like to kill him more than any of you, but we’re professionals, and we’ll do exactly what’s asked of us. Understood?’
Pepper and Kozak grunted their ascent, but 30K remained silent.
‘And you?’ Ross asked him.
‘All right,’ 30K said resignedly. ‘I’ll cut his throat. But only a little.’ He held up his thumb and index finger to indicate the exact size of the incision he planned to make.
‘You’re a team player, 30K,’ Ross said with a wink.
‘Yeah, yeah, that’s me.’
‘All right, we need to set up a little bivy,’ said Ross. ‘We’ll be here for a while.’
The bivouac they chose was within the tightest cluster of nipah palms they could find, and Pepper helped Kozak quietly cut free more fronds, from which they constructed a crude roof that, even from a few feet away, was indistinguishable from the rest of the rain forest.
They had taken along some Meals Ready to Eat (MREs) from the ship, and they had a late lunch before Mitchell finally called back with the Operations Order (OPORD).
Ross went over the plan in exacting detail — covering all five parts of the order much more slowly than Pepper was used to. That was fine. The boss wanted to leave no stone unturned, no question unanswered. They pored over the (1) Situation, (2) Mission, (3) Execution, (4) Service & Support, and (5) Command & Signals aspects of the mission.
Pepper could already hear 30K translating the OPORD into 30K-speak:
Situation: Bad guys on island with missiles and shit.
Mission: Kill the bastards unmercifully.
Execution: Well, yeah, we’re going to execute them with help from the Marines on board the LCS.
And the rest was just details.
Pepper smiled to himself, but then out of nowhere he was struck by the length and breadth of the operation, and by these men who were about to put themselves in harm’s way.
A powerful chill fanned across his shoulders.
It was a moment to confront his own mortality — and theirs — and these feelings were happening more often and at the most inopportune times. Nearly getting buried to death inside that minaret hadn’t helped matters. He closed his eyes and swore he would do everything he could to complete the mission and protect them, and when he opened his eyes, 30K was staring at him.
‘You hear that?’ he asked.
Pepper frowned. ‘What?’
‘Listen … I hear one of the trains …’
SIXTY-ONE
The storm hit by 1830 hours, the sky gone to soot, the thunderheads finally upon them, and they huddled in their tiny bivouac, waiting it out, while Ross kept in close contact with Mitchell and with the LCS’s skipper.
What wasn’t wet already was about to get wet, and Ross wished they could just get on with it instead of waiting around, getting waterlogged. Story of your life in the military: Hurry up and wait. That it stopped raining forty minutes later offered only a brief respite. They still had to hold there for another four hours before Mitchell finally gave them the signal to move out, and Ross’s ankles cracked as he got to his feet.
Pepper and Kozak headed off south along the railroad tracks, with Ross and 30K taking the northern route, each two-man team tasked with reconnoitering the outpost one more time as three Rigid Hull Inflatable Boats (RHIBs) carrying a Marine platoon of nearly forty were deployed from the LCS.
Ross noted immediately that the Penguin missile launcher they’d spotted earlier was no longer there and had been moved farther north, perhaps as far as ten or fifteen miles away, well out of their reach to conduct a demolition operation, and Mitchell called to confirm that the second diesel and launcher had been moved again as well. Hamid wasn’t taking any chances with his most valuable weapons, keeping them rolling and well guarded, especially at night when he probably (and rightly) suspected he might be attacked.
Wagner on board the LCS reported that no boats had approached or left the island, and no aircraft had been spotted on the Sea GIRAFFE radar, just the routine shipping traffic passing through the strait. He’d assured everyone that the system could detect small targets like sea skimmers, anti-radiation missiles, mortars, and even RHIBs from his position approximately one hundred kilometers southeast of the island. The LCS was now speeding their way.
30K blazed a trail like a relentless cyborg, leading Ross to the outpost’s perimeter bunkers on its northwest side. He found the first set of trip wires and placed a marker there, then pointed for Ross to step carefully over the wires, while the men in the bunkers saw nothing.
They advanced to the lean-tos where the APCs were parked, and once there, they glanced at each other and bit back their expletives. The trucks were gone. Ross reminded himself that two of those Pumas were the patrol variant, six-man crew, fitted with a protected cupola with 360-degree traverse that carried either a 12.7 or 14.5mm heavy machine gun.