“Your first objective is Villa Josephine,” Smith said.
Images of a luxurious white villa appeared on the screen with a Mediterranean-style tiled roof and grand red-stone staircases between towering palm trees appeared on the screen. The villa overlooked a pool with crystal-clear blue water. Schematics of the villa’s layout showed a patio and expansive guest rooms with balconies, a smoking room, reading room, and all the other amenities one could reasonably expect at a luxe boutique hotel overlooking the Strait of Gibraltar.
“Of course, things are going to look a little different when you arrive,” Smith said. “We heard reports that the Royal Moroccan Armed Forces tried to use hotels in an adjacent space as staging areas during the outbreak. Unfortunately, we lost contact with our friends in the RMAF a few weeks ago—and that’s the same story we got from our allies in Spain.”
“You believe they’re wiped out, sir?” Henderson asked.
“We’re not sure,” Smith said. “We’ve tried to use what satellite imagery we have available to track if there are any active elements of resistance in the area. Resources are extraordinarily limited, but we believe we did identify armed individuals within the city’s limits.”
Loeb spoke up this time. “Sir, are y’all sure they aren’t Skulls with guns?”
“We didn’t consider the possibility previously,” Smith said. “But after what you all saw in Lithuania, I want you to be prepared for all possibilities. If they are RAMF, attempt to make contact. If they are Russians, we take them down and take them in if we can. If they’re Skulls, then send them back to Hell. Whatever the case, we want to retake Villa Josephine. This will be your staging area and our first step toward securing northern Morocco.”
He flipped to an overhead view of the compound, showing the local neighborhood with its scattered ritzy houses and manicured parks, all situated on the sloping coastline.
“As soon as you secure this area, we’re sending in a platoon from the 75th. The Rangers will help set up a foothold, maintaining security and giving you all backup should you need it, along with a clean extraction. This will also give us a landing pad for any POWs you recover, samples we can ship back to the scientists, and other intel we can pass on without having to rely on the success of a hot extract every time you find something worth sending home. It’ll prevent us from making constant runs back and forth between the UK and Tangier or on one of the Spanish Galicia-class LPDs.”
O’Neil understand the value of having a staging site like that in Morocco. The underlying message was clear, too. They were going to be operating out of Morocco for a while and they were looking for ways to save resources. He wasn’t privy to everything going on in conversations between the brass, but he had to think they were looking for ways to save ammunition and fuel. Because when the US military was in high gear, they tore through those quicker than Loeb through a plate of good ol’ Texas brisket.
Smith continued. “I know you’re probably asking why the hell do we care about Morocco. The reality of the situation is we’ve come across intel that we just cannot ignore. We believe the shipment you intercepted originated from Tangier. It’ll be a few days before we get a full biochemical workup on what was in those drums, but our analysts are increasingly certain the Russians are mostly responsible for the Oni Agent and might be continuing its development in Tangier.”
“Sir, where did we get this intel?” Henderson asked.
“Straight from the analysts back home,” Smith said. “They’ve been working with our allies to piece together the story.”
“So just to clarify, we’re not talking about that merc group again?” Stuart asked.
Smith hesitated. “The Hunters… Yes, some of the operating intel that enabled this mission may have come from them.”
“You sure this makes sense, sir?” Van asked. “Because I heard those guys have treasonous intel experts on board that ship of theirs. The same ship that they stole out from under US military protection.”
The room devolved into murmurs and curses between the SEALs. No one wanted to execute a mission that was based on rumors, much less shaky intel that might’ve been fed by an untrustworthy group. And as many stories as O’Neil heard about these so-called Hunters, he’d never met them to ask what the hell their intentions really were.
Smith held up a hand. “Look, I get it. You all have heard the stories. Our analysts are still working through what happened between the Hunters and our people. But I want to set the record straight here, because when you go to Tangier, I want the only thing you boys are thinking about to be the mission.”
Smith summarized how the Hunters had a long working history with the United States government. He said they had been operating out of a Visby-class corvette, a high-tech stealth ship. Before the Oni Agent outbreak, they had executed ops related to biological and chemical weapons that the US government didn’t want to touch with a ten-foot pole, primarily for political reasons. The group consisted of retired personnel from all branches of the military and a handful of people with experience in the CIA. Their ship had even been outfitted with an onboard lab where a small team of researchers worked.
Operating as independent contractors, they provided the government with plausible deniability. Should the Hunters ever be caught, they would have been completely disowned by the United States. Supposedly all the men and women in the Hunters knew that risk. O’Neil couldn’t be sure whether they were the ultimate patriots or just a group of disgruntled service men and women who thought they could make a quick buck.
Whatever their motives, they had indeed been the first group to provide a technical analysis of the Oni Agent and even develop a stopgap measure to prevent the nanobacteria from spreading if an infection was caught very early on. Still, they nor anyone at Frederick had an actual cure or vaccine.
At best, the treatment they had developed worked like the rabies vaccine. Early on, you could stop the disease. With the rabies vaccines, once a patient showed the first symptom, it was already too late.
From what O’Neil understood, that’s how the Hunters’ attempted remedy worked, too. Either way, he knew he didn’t like relying on a treatment regimen designed by some mercs that may or may not really work.
After the Hunters handed off this information at Frederick, they were sent on a mission by JSOC. Turned out that people at JSOC still weren’t certain about the Hunters’ loyalty and had taken control of their ship while the Hunters were off carrying out their assignment. Of course, the Hunters got pissed and pulled off a heist, stealing the ship back through a complicated underwater infil. O’Neil hated to admit that he was impressed by their tactics.
Apparently, the intel that JSOC had obtained making them suspect the Hunters turned out to have Russian origins.
“And that’s where our story ends,” Smith said. “The Hunters are out there again with their ship, supposedly procuring intel for the US.”
“Sir, I heard reports they had at least a couple SEALs in their ranks,” Loeb said. “Is that right?”
“I can confirm that there are retired operators from the teams working with the Hunters.”
Loeb held out his hands, addressing the other SEALs. “Who in here joined the SEALs because you wanted to serve your country?”
All hands went up.
“Who in here joined because you knew it was the hardest damn thing you were going to do in your life?”
Again, all the SEALs’ hands went up.
“Who in God’s good grace got the bright idea they were going to join because they wanted to make a quick buck?”
That got a few chuckles, but not a single hand went up.
“Y’all do the math,” Loeb said, sitting back down.