Iggy continued, “Two Pave Hawks will transport two teams of three operators each.” Iggy tapped his computer and an old satellite photo of Uzbekistan appeared on the monitor. He gave a six-digit grid for the refueling points. “At zero-one-thirty hours the Hawks will rendezvous at the second refueling point, designation STARLIGHT with a Combat Talon for air-to-air refueling.” He waved his hand in the air for emphasis. “If ever de-briefed, you are to claim that we landed twice each leg in the desert and you believe it was the Russian mob that met us with two Soviet-era fuel trucks. Do I make myself clear?”
GENGHIS carried an IV bag with him and sipped on a Gatorade. He whispered to Hunter. “I’d guess some general’s putting a star on the line for Camille by loaning us that tanker.”
“I’d put my money on the OGA doing it to wipe out the tango base. After we grab her, the tangos will bug out and scatter.” Hunter leaned over to GENGHIS and spoke out of the corner of his mouth.
Iggy slapped the table with his artificial hand. “Gentlemen. There is to be no speculation-no discussion-not a whisper.”
“Yes, sir,” Hunter said and GENGHIS echoed him.
“Each Pave Hawk will top off, then land at STARBRIGHT to refuel the Cobras that do not have air-to-air refueling capabilities. You’ll find the grid in your orders. The Pave Hawks will be carrying hoses and portable pumps. The Hawks will then return to the MC-130 and refuel themselves.”
The briefing ended twenty minutes later and Hunter waited for the men to leave before he approached Iggy, who was sitting down while he turned off the laptop.
“Permission to speak freely, sir,” Hunter said.
“Close the door.”
“Two Cobras and two Pave Hawks-what’s that all about? Where the hell are the Pave Lows and all the troops?”
“Three of our Cobras are in for heavy maintenance. I’m still waiting on the green light from the mechanics for one of the two we’re taking and it has to launch in twenty minutes if everything’s going to run on time.”
“We can’t do this with six operators.”
“It just has to be a little more surgical than originally planned.”
“Doesn’t Black Management have additional air support in theater?”
“It’s committed. There’s a major sweep going on in Northern Pakistan against al Qaeda and the Taliban. Everyone’s stretched so thin, I’ve even got the big Army screaming for more. You’re a Marine. Do the math.”
“I have. You lied to me.” Hunter clenched his jaws and gritted his teeth. He felt a jab of pain from the empty tooth socket, but ignored it. “You said you would redeploy whatever it took to save her. This is Stella’s company for god’s sake. This isn’t the real military. Pull the fucking resources.”
“Get with the 21st century, Stone. We are the real military and we’re in the middle of WWIII right now. Camille understands that. She would never forgive me if I yanked resources in the middle of an op. You don’t do that and you know it.” Iggy closed the laptop. “And I said I would try and I sure as hell did.”
“I’m starting to think you don’t want to save her.”
“Enough, Stone.” Iggy stood and took a step toward Hunter. His face was bright red. “You are not the only one who loves Cam. You’re just the only one who can have her. It’s not fucking fair, but I still saved your ass when that was what she wanted. And you can bet your life I’m going to do everything I can to get her back safely.”
“I didn’t know.”
“Well now you do. And I appreciate you not telling her. Dismissed.”
The rotors of the Pave Hawks were starting to move when Hunter walked with Iggy to the lead bird. The operators were standing around on the ramp. The Super Cobras had already left. Hunter patted the side of the Hawk for good luck as he climbed into the back. Beach Dog had stuck a small cat figure with a raised paw onto the dashboard. Hunter had seen them all over Okinawa and was pretty sure they were some kind of a Japanese good luck charm, but he couldn’t figure out how it fit into the guy’s usual Hawaiian motif.
Hunter stuck his head into the front and put his hand on Beach Dog’s shoulder.
“Sorry about what happened back in Baghdad,” Hunter said. “I want you to know I have nothing against your kind of people.”
“Surfers?” Beach Dog looked up from his checklist and smiled. “I think you misunderstood me. All’s cool, dude. Let’s just go save the lady.”
Hunter watched as GENGHIS positioned himself on the outside seat of the four-man NOMEX bench so that he didn’t risk anyone bumping against his arm.
“Sure you’re up to it, buddy?” Hunter said as he sat beside him, not happy that he was about to spend nearly five hours cramped in a middle seat. GENGHIS’ quick rebound surprised him, but he’d known other snake eaters like him. The more bunged up, the more hard-assed they became.
Just then Iggy boarded the helicopter and pointed at GENGHIS. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in the infirmary.”
“Waste of time. The nurse was a dude.”
“Get out. Raab here is my second shooter.” He motioned to a stocky guy standing several feet away on the ramp who looked like he could drive fence posts with his bare hands. He and Ashland were hurrying to smoke the last of their cigarettes.
“With all due respect, sir,” GENGHIS said and continued, “Ms. Black is there because she tried to get an IV to save my life. I owe her and I don’t like debts.”
“I can’t risk others by asking them to count on a teammate who’s already wounded.”
GENGHIS glared at him, then stared at his artificial arm. Hunter started to say something, but Iggy could take care of himself. He’d sure proven that.
“Sir,” GENGHIS said. “Ms. Black has earned my loyalty and my respect. I’ll give my last breath to save her. Besides I’m all knitted up and ready to tango.”
Iggy pursed his lips and held his breath for several seconds as he stared at GENGHIS. “If you show any signs of disorientation along the way, you’re staying in the helo.”
Ashland and Raab approached the Pave Hawk and Hunter could smell the cigarette smoke even over the jet fumes.
Iggy motioned to Raab. “You’re bumped to CHALK TWO. Take Callaghan’s place and tell him to go home for the night.”
“Yes, sir.”
Iggy radioed the replacement orders to the CHALK TWO team leader while Ashland climbed onto the empty backwards-facing seats. The extra internal fuel tanks were a plastic wall within twelve inches of the seats. He wedged himself in and sat sideways with his legs facing the door.
“Hey, hey, hey. What are you doing?” Iggy tapped his artificial hand on Ashland’s leg.
“I left you the last seat. I didn’t think you’d want to sit back here,” Ashland said.
Hunter could tell from the bulges that Ashland had body armor on even though he wore civilian clothes-brown trousers and a white shirt. With his curly jet black hair and swarthy complexion, he could easily pass as one of the tangos like he had when Hunter and Stella had discovered him in the insurgent safe house back in Anbar.
“You don’t have the right skill set for this,” Iggy said.
“But I do. My Arabic is flawless. I might be French, but my mother is Algerian. My father was pied-noir.”
“I don’t give a flip about your pedigree. Get out.” Iggy glanced at his watch.
“You need another Arabic speaker if you want find her. I know you have enough margin with the fuel to cover my weight.”
“Can you shoot?”
“Definitely.”
“I can use you for recon. Finding her is going to be a bitch. But fuck with me and I’ll draw and quarter you myself.” Iggy stifled a yawn as he climbed into the Pave Hawk and strapped himself in. He was ready to blow, so he took a deep breath to calm himself down. He was getting fed up with constantly being challenged and argued with every step of the way. Private military had its drawbacks and one of them was the lack of a stockade.