lage wall behind us, the whomping now louder, the
reactionary gunfire lifting up from the ground.
My satellite phone kept ringing. I figured it was Brown
or Ramirez, so I ignored it.
A roar came from the troops somewhere out there,
and a half dozen RPGs screamed up toward the chopper,
whose pilot banked suddenly away from the incoming.
Zahed began to smile. Even his teeth had been whit-
ened. The CIA had pampered his ass, all right.
Bronco was about to say something. Mike had his
gaze on the helicopter.
The trigger came down more easily than I had antici-
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311
pated, and my round struck Zahed in the forehead, slightly
off center. His head snapped back and he crashed back into
the Mercedes and slid down to the ground, the blood
spray glistening across the car’s roof.
Bronco and Mike reacted instantly, drawing their
weapons.
I shot Bronco first, then Mike.
But I didn’t kill them. I shot them in the legs, knock-
ing them off their feet as I whirled and sprinted back
toward the shattered window. My phone had stopped
ringing.
“You’re going down for this, Joe! You have no idea
what you’ve done! No idea!”
There was a lot of cursing involved—by both of us—
but suffice it to say I ignored them and climbed back
into the bedroom, where Hila lay motionless.
I was panting, shaking her hands, gently moving her
head. I panicked, checked her neck for a carotid pulse.
Thank God. She was alive but unconscious. I dug the
Cross-Com out of my pocket, activated it, changed the
magazine on my pistol. I gently scooped up Hila, slid
her over my shoulder, then started out of the room, my
gun hand trembling.
“Predator Control, this is Ghost Lead, over.”
A box opened in my HUD. “Where you been, Ghost
Lead?”
“Busy.”
“CAS units moving into your area, over.”
“Got ’em. Can you lock onto my location?
312 GH OS T RE CON
“I’ve got it.”
“Good. I need Hellfires right on my head. Every-
thing you got. There are no civilians here. I repeat, no
civilians. We got a weapons and opium cache in the
basement. I want it taken out, over.”
“Roger that, Ghost Lead. I still have no authoriza-
tion for fires at this time, over.”
“I understand, buddy. Tell you what. Give me ten min-
utes, and then you make your decision—and live by it . . .”
“Roger that, Ghost Lead.”
With a few hundred Taliban fighters to defend the
village, I had a bad feeling that they’d manage to either
move or simply secure all those weapons and opium.
Better to take the cache out of the picture—blow it all
back to Allah. I wasn’t sure how committed Harruck’s
Close Air Support was, either.
I had considered for the better part of two seconds
taking Hila straight outside and trying to link up with
one of the choppers, but the place still swarmed with
Taliban. I’d rather take them out one or two at a time in
the tunnels. So I carried her back to the basement and
descended the stairs.
“Ghost Lead, this is Predator Control. I’ve just received
an override order. I have clearance to fire. But I will lose
the target in four minutes, fifteen seconds, over.”
“Let the clock tick,” I told him. “But don’t miss your
shot. I’m getting the hell out of here.”
“Roger that, Ghost Lead. Godspeed.”
I nearly fell down the staircase near the bottom,
caught my balance, then turned toward the tunnel at
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313
the far end. Judging from the sounds above, most of the
Taliban were engaging the choppers or putting fire on
the mountainside. I didn’t expect to encounter much
resistance in the tunnel, so when I cleared the rock sec-
tion and ducked a bit lower to enter the drainage pipe, I
froze at the sound of voices.
I doused the penlight in my other hand.
Flashlights shone ahead. I set Hila down. I flicked the
penlight back on.
Oh, no. There was a long line of guys, maybe twenty,
maybe more, coming right at us.
I saw them.
They saw me.
They screamed.
I reached into my web gear and produced a grenade.
They screamed again.
I pulled the pin and pitched the grenade far down the
pipe, then threw myself over Hila as three, two—
My satellite phone started ringing again.
One.
I cupped my ears as the grenade went off with a blind-
ing flash and rush of air, as the men shrieked now, and I
suddenly rose, damning my ringing phone to hell, and
unleashed salvo after salvo through the smoke and gleam-
ing debris.
Then I screamed ahead, told them to run away or die,
I think. Something pretty close.
The pipe grew very quiet, save for my ringing phone.
I cursed, pulled it from my pocket, and realized it’d
been General Keating on the line.
314 GH OS T RE CON
Aw, damn. I’d get with the old man later. I switched
off the phone, picked up Hila, and eased my way for-
ward as far ahead, footfalls sounded, though no flash-
lights lifted my way. I neared the area of the explosion,
saw how the concrete had been blasted apart, then real-
ized the earth above had nothing to support it. Below
were a half dozen men shredded into bloody heaps.
I reached up with my finger to check the stability of
the ceiling, and that was when the entire section of earth
came down on top of me. It all happened so fast that I
didn’t realize how much dirt had fallen until I tried to
move my legs. Trapped. I managed to bring up one arm
and brush it from my face. I spit dirt, then glanced up . . .
and there it was about a meter above, an open hole and
the stars beyond. The gunfire popped and cracked, and
two mortars exploded somewhere beyond.
I started writhing back and forth, trying to free
myself, when I heard more voices. I wasn’t sure which
side of the tunnel they were coming from. I began to
panic, shoving my arm more violently and trying to
kick. The earth to my right began to give away, and sud-
denly I fell sideways and out of the pile, sliding down a
hill of dirt that was spreading to Hila.
“Ghost Lead, this is Predator Control. Thirty sec-
onds, and you are still too close to the drop zone, over.”
“Roger that,” I said, then coughed. “I’m moving
out. You just do your job!”
“Mitchell, this is Keating,” called the general as
another video box opened in my HUD. “I’ve been try-
ing to get a hold of you, son! Your orders have changed!”
CO MB AT O P S
315
So I ripped the Cross-com off my head and turned it
off. It was a little late for that shit.
The passage through the pipe was completely blocked.
I thought if I could get us up on top of the pile, I might
be able to push Hila through the hole and up top.
But I had no idea what we’d find up there. I needed
to chance a look for myself. I climbed back up, pushing
back into the dirt, and up through the hole until my