"What are you going to do about it?"
She put the picture away. "I'm going to talk to the captain in charge over at flight ops. Even if he doesn't know who put it up, if he saw it there he should have taken it down. Then I'm going to talk to my colonel and show it to him."
"Why do people do things like that?"
Jean shook her head. "I'm the only female pilot in this battalion. I think it threatens the men to have me here. They think they're less of a man because a woman can do the same job." She slumped back in her chair exhausted. "I don't know. I just get tired of this shit. If someone has a problem with me I'd rather they come and talk to me rather than do childish stuff like this. This is such bullshit. I just want to do my job."
Mitchell tried to lighten the mood. "They won't face you because they're not man enough. Hell, even I don't like getting in an argument with you and I'm married to you. You always win." He slid his seat toward his wife and put his arm around her. "Listen, sweety-pie, don't let these idiots get to you." He hugged her tight.
The duty officer for the 1st Special Operations Squadron (1st SOS) looked up as the secure SATCOM terminal machine in the corner hummed with an incoming message. He put down his book and went over to the machine. After five seconds, the humming stopped and the message was spit out. The man's eyes widened as he read the message.
CLASSIFIED: TOP SECRET
ROUTING: FLASH
TO: CDR 1ST SOS/ 1ST SOW/ MSG 01
FROM: CDR USSOCOM/ SFOB FM
SUBJ: ALERT/ TANGO ROMEO/ AUTH CODE: FIERCE WIND
REF: OPLAN TYPHOON ONE SEVEN ALPHA
REQ: ONE MCI30
START: FRIDAY/ 2 JUNE/ 1500 ZULU
DEST: OSAN AFB/ ROK
POINT OF CONTACT: LTC HOSSEY/ DET-K
END: TBD
CLASSIFIED: TOP SECRET
The duty officer grabbed the phone and punched in the number for the commander's quarters. Damn, he thought. 1500 Zulu. That wasn't much time to preflight and get a crew together.
Hossey pulled into the parking lot of the Eighth Army Headquarters on north post less than fifteen minutes after getting the phone call from the duty officer about the Flash message. Hossey showed his ID card to the guard and wound his way through the building until he got to the duty office. The major there checked his ID card again. Satisfied that Hossey was who he claimed to be, the major handed over a sheet of paper.
Hossey put on his reading glasses and perused the contents.
CLASSIFIED: TOP SECRET
ROUTING: FLASH
TO: CDR DET-K/ MSG 01
FROM: CDR USSOCOM/ SFOB FM
SUBJ: ALERT/ TANGO ROMEO/ AUTH CODE: RIVER THUNDER
REF: OPLAN TYPHOON ONE SEVEN ALPHA
REQ: ONE OPERATIONAL DETACHMENT/ ONE FOB OSAN AFB
START: FRIDAY/ 2 JUNE/ 2000 ZULU
MISC: ONE MCI30 DUE IN OSAN FRIDAY/ 2 JUNE/ 2000 ZULU FOR MISSION PLANNING AND INFILTRATION SUPPORT/ INFILTRATION WINDOW 1400Z TO 1800Z 6 JUNE
END: TBD
CLASSIFIED: TOP SECRET
Hossey took a minute to consider the message. It was an alert and the Typhoon 17-A referenced the war plan. Hossey couldn't remember exactly which mission it was, but he knew the target was China.
Had to be either the nuclear power plant or the pipeline, but he couldn't remember which. More importantly, he wondered if this was real or a training exercise. The River Thunder authorization code was the real one, but Hossey could see little reason why they would be running a Typhoon mission for real. The ongoing events in China were certainly serious but seemed more a political than a military problem. He decided after a few moments of consideration that it was most likely a training exercise to test their ability to react, while at the same time giving the politicians a military option for a show of force.
Using the duty officer's phone, he started dialing. As the phone began to ring on the other end, he shook his head. A great time to call an alert — Saturday night on a payday weekend. Most every soldier would be off post in Itaewon getting drunk and chasing women. He was surprised when the receiver was lifted.
"Riley here."
"Dave, this is Colonel Hossey. This is an alert. Get your team together and meet me at the compound."
"All right, sir. I'm going to have to go downtown to track most of them down. When do you need everyone?"
Hossey checked his watch and subtracted the drive down to Osan. He added in the number of bars in Itaewon. "Try to get as many as you can by 0100. I'll have Hooker run the rest down as they come in. I'll meet you at the compound at 0200."
"Roger that, sir."
A thought struck Hossey. "You have any idea where Hooker might be right now?"
"Probably at the NCO club, sir. He usually gets fired up there and then heads downtown around midnight."
"Thanks. Out here." Hossey put down the phone and headed for his car to drive to the NCO club.
On the other end of the line, Dave Riley replaced the receiver. He quickly dialed the phone number of the one team member who didn't live in the barracks. Then he went out into the hallway and pounded on the doors of those who did. The only one to answer his door was Olinski.
"What's up, Top?"
"An alert. We need to go downtown and find the guys. I already got a hold of Chong at his yobo's place. He's on his way to the team room. I told him to get our team and isolation gear ready to go."
Riley waited while Olinski threw on a shirt, then they headed for the gate. Riley led the way as he broke into a trot. He knew he could try for a cab, but the chance of getting one of the post-run cabs at this hour on a Saturday night was slim. The same was true for getting a Korean cab right outside the gate. They'd get to Itaewon quicker on foot than by standing around waiting for a taxi. Besides, Riley hated waiting.
With Olinski trailing behind him, Riley turned right on the main Korean street that separated North and South Post Yongsan. After a quarter mile, the cinder-block walls on either side that guarded the military post disappeared, and they arrived at a major four-way intersection. On the other side of the intersection, bright lights indicated the beginning of the Itaewon district. During the day, Itaewon was the mecca for shoppers in Seoul. The many stores and sidewalk vendors catered to both local and foreign browsers. At night, the district transformed itself into Western-style nightlife. Dozens of nightclubs blasted music into the streets, and the twenty-block area was garishly lit by hundreds of neon signs. Clusters of bar girls lurked inside most of those bars, waiting to fall on GIs with money in their pockets. Riley knew which of the clubs his team members frequented. He decided to start on the main street and then work his way south.
The crew was scraped together from whoever could be found on base. The 1st Special Operations Squadron didn't normally keep an alert crew. There hadn't been a need for one, since Talon missions usually required a few days of planning and advance notice. One of the hastily gathered-in crew members, Maj. Ed Kent, blinked as a pair of headlights turned in his direction. He opened the glass door to the base operations building and dragged his deployment flight bag outside. An air force station wagon pulled up next to him and a burly black enlisted man got out. "You the new EW officer?"
Kent nodded as he threw the bag in the backseat. "Major Kent." "I'm Master Technical Sergeant Young. I'm the loadmaster for the aircraft you'll be flying on. You must be new. I've never seen you before. You can hop in the car with me and I'll take you over."
Kent got in the passenger side and Young started the car rolling slowly along the flight line. "I just got in country a couple of days ago."