‘So how you liking the new boss?’ asked 30K.
‘Good.’
‘What do you mean good?’
Kozak refocused his attention on the drone’s monitor. ‘I like him.’
‘Better than Ferguson?’
‘They’re two completely different operators.’
‘What does that mean?’
Kozak thought a moment.
Captain Cedrick Ferguson, a thirty-eight-year-old African-American from Minneapolis, had formed a deep bond with them and had served successfully as their Ghost Lead on some highly volatile operations in Zambia, Nigeria, the arctic, and even Russia. Ferguson was a family man with two young sons and was married to a school principal. He was arguably the most levelheaded and decisive man Kozak had ever known, with both his professional and personal lives balanced in a way that only few soldiers could manage. The bullets could be flying, people could be dying, but Ferguson’s cool and curt commands would put you at ease. His absence was actually part of the larger Group for Specialized Tactics’ team availability and organizational structure.
The GST had four operational detachments of between eight and twelve operators each. The detachments, known as A, B, C, and D squadrons, fielded four-man teams, and very often Ghost Leads would rotate through several teams before a kind of natural selection took place and they settled in with a consistent group of operators, developing a shorthand forged only through time and experience.
Teams rotated through three status levels: Ready, Standby and Hold, with two detachments always in the ready status to immediately deploy, one on standby, and one on hold. Ferguson had temporarily rotated to a team on hold so he could enjoy some well-deserved R & R and spend time with his family. And yes, news of a new Ghost Lead taking them out, one who wasn’t even an Army SF operator, had unnerved Kozak. The rumors had run rampant, the reservations so tangible that Kozak actually had a bitter taste in his mouth a few hours before he’d met Ross. But when he’d learned of the man’s credentials and listened to Major Mitchell speak so highly of one Captain Andrew Ross, Kozak was put at ease. What’s more, Ross said he had a grandfather on his mother’s side who’d been born in Saint Petersburg, Russia.
Unsurprisingly, 30K had a problem with new Ghost Leads — especially those who were, as he’d put it, ‘members of Uncle Sam’s Canoe Club.’
‘Well, I get the impression Captain Ross thinks he’s above us. He was a Navy SEAL, serving with operators I’m sure he believes were the very best. You know, the SEALs got all the Hollywood hype, so now as he gets older, he’s just slumming with us, putting in his time.’
Kozak glanced incredulously at his teammate. ‘When did you get that impression?’
‘First time I laid eyes on him.’
‘Or maybe after he corrected you for jumping the gun?’
‘I don’t like any of this. I don’t think bringing in people from other branches is a good idea.’
‘You afraid to learn something new?’
30K snorted. ‘So if we watch the Army-Navy Game, who do you think he’ll root for?’
‘Who cares?’
‘Aw, I’m talking to the wrong guy.’
‘I think Pepper likes him. And if Pepper is good to go, then so am I. Besides, when we’re out here, none of that shit matters.’
30K muttered something under his breath, then said, ‘You’re in awe of the guy, aren’t you?’
‘Hey, you read his record. Silver Star, three Bronze with V, too many commendations to remember, and even the Presidential Unit Citation.’
‘We ain’t here for medals.’
‘He was DEVGRU — Naval Special Warfare Development Group. It’s not like they killed bin Laden or anything, right?’
‘Why don’t you join the Navy?’
Kozak shook his head and sighed. ‘If you’re looking for hard-core proof that the guy is legit, then there it is.’
‘You’re just another fanboy.’
‘Give him a chance.’
‘Oh, I’ll work with him. I’ll show him how we roll. He might look like Mr Perfect on the outside, but something doesn’t sit right with me. I want to know his weaknesses. His baggage. Then I can work around them — to keep us both alive.’
Kozak hardened his voice. ‘Do you trust me?’
‘I will. I’m not done training you yet.’
‘You amaze me.’
‘And one day when you grow up, you’ll amaze me, too, little brother …’
The narrow dirt road began to jog to the left, and 30K hit the brakes to roll into the turn. As the Hummer began to fishtail slightly to the left –
Fireflies twinkled beside the rubber trees lining both sides of the road.
Only they weren’t fireflies.
NINE
Raindrops the size of golf balls — or at least 30K swore they were that big — blasted into the windshield, blinding him for a second before the wipers cleared the glass –
And there they were: muzzle flashes accompanied by the thudding and pinging of rounds off the Hummer’s front end.
‘You gotta be kidding me!’ 30K shouted. ‘How’d you miss these guys with the drone?’
‘It’s too high, too far ahead,’ Kozak cried. ‘And the rain’s screwing me up! Heat sources gone cold!’
30K hit the accelerator and barked into his Cross-Com, ‘Ghost Lead, ambush! Pushing on through!’
Kozak had already set down the drone’s remote and was lowering his window to get his rifle pointed in the right direction. At the same time, he shouted to their gunner, who was already directing a broad bead of suppressing fire on the trees. ‘Hey, dude, get some fire right in the road ahead of the truck,’ Kozak told him in Spanish. ‘Right on the road!’
30K knew exactly what Kozak was talking about. The odds were high that the rebels had planted a pressure-activated IED in the road; perhaps they’d missed the first one and the rebels had opened fire anyway, but there could be more, and the man on the .50-cal could trigger the next bomb before they struck it. If the rebels had set up a trip wire, it’d be more difficult to spot in the rain.
30K juked right, keeping the Hummer tight to the trees, sideswiping a few branches that scraped across the side mirror and door with a screech that sent Kozak hollering and yanking his rifle back inside. ‘What the hell?’
‘IEDs, man,’ 30K answered. ‘Trying to stay off the path!’
‘Little heads-up first?’ snapped Kozak, who then set down his rifle and picked up the drone’s remote. ‘Shit, shit, shit! Signal’s gone!’
Ross had an elbow balanced on the door and squeezed off three bursts with his HK, driving two rebels standing beside some trees back into the brush. He estimated the ambush force at no more than fifteen or twenty, and they rolled past them within a handful of seconds.
He ducked back into the Hummer, closed the window, and got back on the team net. ‘30K, you guys all right?’
‘We’re good!’
Ross switched frequencies to Captain Jiménez, who was up in the cab of the M35, and asked if his people were okay.
‘Two men were hit, one seriously. We’re very lucky. There could be more ambushes ahead.’
‘Roger that. Stay sharp. Ross, out.’
‘Don’t get closer than that,’ said Pepper, pointing to a bullet hole in his side mirror. ‘That guy was looking to trim my sideburn.’
‘No shit,’ said Ross, his heart still wrenching in his chest.
‘They’re calling ahead to their buddies, saying we’re on our way.’