It was now or never.
He stabbed the icon with his trembling finger. God help him.
DISTRIBUTE DATA FOB CONTENTS WORLDWIDE? Y/N?
Yes. Fucking yes.
A progress bar appeared.
CONNECTING…
UPLOADING…
14 MINUTES REMAINING.
There was no way back. Whatever happened to him now, whether he died or went to jail, at least he'd done something with his life. Kade hoped it was the right thing.
He slid the slate under his narrow bed where it would be out of sight and let Bahn and the other monk carry him away.
"Target in sight," Bruce Williams said. "No lights. No movement. All clear on IR and radio."
Nichols nodded. "Commence operation."
"Roger that," Williams said. "Starting jamming… now. Jamming active."
Both Banshees lit up their wideband signal jammers.
"Deploying SEALs now," Williams said.
• • • •
In the cell Kade had fled from, a discarded slate flashed a new message on its screen.
CONNECTION LOST.
No one was there to see it. After a few minutes, the screen dimmed to black.
SEAL Sergeant Jim Iverson fast-roped silently down the line from Banshee One. His heads-up display pointed the way to Target One's cell. His team assembled around him. Together they crept silently, nearly invisibly through the complex.
Building in sight. West entrance approaching.
What was that sound?
Then the first dot appeared on his HUD. Three dots, moving away from this building, out the other side. Heading away from them.
Then more dots. Tens more. Everywhere.
The handle of the door turned. It opened, and monks filed out in their orange robes, bald heads, serene expressions on their faces. Dozens of them. Scores of them. Hundreds of them.
Bells began ringing, like the church bells of his youth. Bright lights came to life around the courtyard where they'd fastroped down.
Oh, fuck.
Nichols watched as Teams One and Two dispersed, heading for Lane's cell and the nun's dormitory where Cataranes was housed.
"Contact, contact," Jane Kim said. "I've got shapes moving on IR."
"What the hell?" Nichols asked.
"More contacts," Williams said. "All over the place."
Doors were opening on buildings all over the complex, spilling visible light out into the courtyards. Warm bodies were walking out of all of them, all over the place.
And then the bells began ringing. Great bells. Monastery bells. Ringing and ringing and ringing.
Lights came on. Floodlights illuminating the courtyard, illuminating the orange-robed monks filing silently and calmly into it, beatific smiles on their faces.
"Abort!" Nichols yelled. "Abort abort abort. Get them out of there, ASAP!"
He looked at screen 3. Becker was ashen-faced. The mission was a bust.
Jim Iverson's HUD flashed a message from command at him.
ABORT ABORT ABORT
Abort? There were fucking monks between his squad and the choppers! They were everywhere! He whispered back furiously at command.
"Sir," Jane Kim called out, "We have Lane on scope. Banshee One has a shot on him."
It didn't matter. They had to abort.
"Stand down," he told Kim.
"Teams One and Two both pinned by monks," Williams said. "Still stealthed. Lots of bodies between them and the zip line."
"Move the line to them," Nichols ordered.
A flash of light lit up one of the screens.
"Oh, fuck," Williams said.
Nichols looked over. Faces everywhere. Serene faces. Bald heads. Orange robes. All crowding closer. "What the hell was that?"
"Photo," Williams said. "The monks are taking pictures."
"Complete the mission," Becker said from the screen.
"What?" Nichols asked.
"We're made," his boss said. "Too late to change that. Take the shot on Lane. Grab Cataranes. Get the hell out."
Nichols was stunned. Complete the mission. But their orders were not to get caught.
They were caught already…
Complete the mission.
"Take the shot," he ordered. "Tell Team Two to proceed towards Blackbird's cell. We're go to finish the mission."
Kade hopped madly along, his arms around Bahn and the other monk's shoulders, letting them half carry him. He heard a pfffft sound and the monk to his left fell with a clatter. Oh, fuck. Kade almost fell too, Bahn barely keeping him upright. They rounded the corner, out of sight from the helicopters, and kept running.
"Where are we going?" Kade yelled as he hopped.
"Hide!" Bahn said. "Stairs!"
They turned another corner and Kade's good leg slipped on a wet cobblestone. His leg went out from under him and the ground rushed up. Bahn tried to grab him, overextended, and they both fell to the hard ground. Kade heard a crack from inside himself, felt fresh pain in his side.
Fuck.
Bahn got back on his feet, slowly dragged Kade up as well. Oh God, that hurt.
Iverson winced as another flash went off from another camera. He almost missed the message from command.
Proceed? Follow the targets. Roger that.
The HUD showed Target One forty meters to the north-west, but all he could see in that direction was row upon row of bald men in orange robes, hands folded into their sleeves, serene expressions on their faces. They pressed in close around him. He whirled to go around them. More monks blocked his way. He pressed forward. A dozen bodies pressed back. Another two SEALs were behind him. They elbowed and pushed their way through the press. It just reformed around them, pushed back against them. The mass of monks moved like a single organism, shifting and reforming to block them any way they turned.
This was fucking insane. Didn't these men know they were armed?
"Team One, you are cleared for nonlethal fire. Disperse that crowd."
"Roger that."
Iverson flipped off the safety, fired a tranq round into the belly of the monk in front of him. The orange-robed figure slumped to the ground silently. Another monk replaced the one he'd shot immediately, face utterly relaxed.
Iverson fired again. A body fell. Again. Another body. Again. Another one.
His squadmates did the same. Monks fell. Other monks moved forwards even before their comrades' bodies could hit the ground. Monks behind them caught the falling ones, dragged their limp bodies away, took their places.