Everything appeared in order-no signs of tangos. So far the terrorists seemed to be bedded down for the night. He watched his explosives team work its way toward the target, dashing between spindly trees and scrub as they tried to conceal themselves. They were sailors and even though the Navy EOD school did turn out the best trained bomb guys, they seemed to skip over lessons in stealth. Only one of them really seemed to know what he was doing. Hunter laughed to himself as three of them ran straight toward their target, not bothering to approach on the oblique.
Squid. No wonder the Marines always had the urge to beat them up-it was for their own good-survival training.
He took the night vision goggles off and rubbed his eyes. At first he wasn’t sure, then he distinctly heard a truck engine coming from behind them. It sounded like the low growl of a tractor-trailer rig shifting gears. He hoped for a truckload of insurgents since he could easily ambush them and take them out, but his gut told him he wouldn’t be that lucky. His greatest nightmare was Stella-the legendary Camille Black-riding along with her troops, nailing him as his Rubicon team poached Black Management’s mission. Even though he had spent the past year on assignment infiltrating Rubicon, blowing his cover with them was the least he would have to worry about if she were along for the ride. He had stood her up a couple of weeks ago out of concern that Rubicon was becoming suspicious of him and the rendezvous might blow his cover. He knew she would still be fuming over it. The Marines might have coined the phrase No better friend-No worse enemy, but Stella was the one who really brought that to life.
The Black Management Cougar stopped behind the convoy. Camille was sure it was from Rubicon. For some bizarre reason, they had beaten Black Management to over a dozen job sites in just the past month. There were plenty of tango nests to go around and she couldn’t imagine why they were doing it except to set her up at a time when both Black Management and Rubicon Solutions were trying to woo the CIA for another major no-bid contract. She waded through her troops, handed GENGHIS her XM8 and jumped out of the back. The extra pounds from her gear made her land hard and she felt the impact in her knees and hips. She really dreaded turning thirty.
A week earlier in a Herndon, Virginia boardroom, Rubicon executives in their thousand-dollar suits had denied ever muscling in on jobs assigned to Black Management, pointing out that there was ample work to spread among all of the private military corporations. That was true-and that was what made Rubicon’s behavior all the more puzzling unless they were just trying to pull down her pants at a time she needed to look good. Then she had vowed that if she could ever prove Rubicon was poaching her sites, there would be war between the two private armies. Now she had caught them in flagrante delicto and she stomped across their first battlefield, ready to engage the enemy.
The Rubicon mission commander left the lead SUV and hurried toward her. She noted a familiar smooth gait, but couldn’t see his face well enough to recognize him. Still, there was something about him-he walked like Hunter, she realized. She told herself it couldn’t be him because his chest stuck out more than usual, but she knew ceramic plates in body armor could account for that. What the hell was he doing there, leading the Rubicon raiding party?
“Rubicon’s not getting away with this anymore. I don’t know what the hell you’re up to, but stand down and get the fuck out of my way.”
The commander now jogged toward her.
It couldn’t be him, but it was. “You? I can’t believe this.”
“Quiet,” Hunter said in a low voice. “We’re in black out.”
“Noise discipline because of a flat tire? Right. Don’t worry. We’re upwind of the target,” she said, lowering her voice just in case.
“We’re transferring an HVT and one of our vehicles got a flat. This really isn’t what it seems.”
“Nothing with you is what it seems. You say you love me; we’re getting married-then you stage your death. You say you love me; we’ll meet in Dubai and you’ll make things right-then you stood me up last weekend. And now-now you’re working for the enemy, raiding my assignments, trying to ruin my company. I suppose you still love me?” Camille pulled her USP Tactical sidearm from its holster and pointed it at him. He had hurt her enough.
“Not now,” Hunter said.
“And you’re playing contract soldier now? I thought you despised us mercs. Guess you’ll go to any lengths to screw me over, won’t you?”
“Trust me. More than anything on this earth, I love you, Stella.”
“And I love you, too.” She squeezed the trigger and it felt good. Real good.
Hunter fell backwards and hit the ground. His troops piled out of the trucks, training their weapons on Camille. She holstered her gun, then held her clenched fist in the air, signaling her forces not to move.
He keyed his mike and spoke as he pushed himself up from the desert floor. “Stand down. Situation is under control. Repeat. Stand down. Situation is under control.”
“The situation is not under control,” Camille said.
“You bitch. It could’ve pierced the Kevlar if I didn’t have the SAPI plates in. Did you ever think that it might’ve ricocheted off the plates and blown my fucking chin off?”
“Don’t be such a girl. Besides, your chest looks like Mighty Mouse-I knew you were wearing them. Next time you can count on it that I won’t be shooting at your ceramic plates.”
“You blew my opsec.”
“What operational security? I thought you said you were just changing a flat?”
“Stella,” he whispered. “You have to trust me. It’s not what it looks like. I am on your side. Please don’t blow my cover. Make it look like this is only a turf war. Act like you don’t know me.”
“I don’t know you.” Camille shook her head. She was glad tears evaporated almost instantly in the arid desert.
A rapid pop of automatic gunfire erupted from the direction of the insurgents’ compound.
“You have men down there?” Camille never let personal issues compromise her professionalism. When the shooting started, the private militaries were all on the same side.
Hunter nodded as he ordered his shooters on the dune to give them cover fire. The medium machine gun roared.
“You’re rolling with me,” Camille shouted. “I don’t want you out of my sight. Radio your troops to fall in behind us.” She turned and sprinted toward the Cougar. When she reached the back of the vehicle, three hands reached out to help her up.
GENGHIS handed Camille her carbine as she pushed her way to the front of the vehicle. She spoke to the shift leader, a bullet-headed ex-cop. “NOONER, inform Ops at Camp Raven that LIGHTNING SIX is now assuming command. Then move us into the tango compound.” Camille looked back at Hunter and decided not to blow his cover. “Rubicon, order your troops to rescue your men, then assume positions outside the walls to provide backup. We’ll call for them if needed.” Camille pointed to the concrete wall encircling the compound. Green tracers came from all over the compound, crisscrossing as they fired at imaginary targets. “We’re crashing their party. NOONER, take us in right there-about five meters to the right of the gate.”
“I’m not sure what the vehicle can do-I don’t know it well enough yet,” NOONER said.
“It’s got a Caterpillar 330 horsepower engine and Iraqis don’t use rebar in their concrete. Do the math. As soon as we’re in, I want a man at each firing port and one at each roof hatch. We’re going to tour the compound and light it up before dismounting. Brace yourselves. Now!”
Camille plopped to the floor and bear hugged the nearest legs. The Cougar’s engine revved, then she heard a loud crash, then felt a jolt like a plane hitting sudden turbulence. The ride immediately smoothed out.