“How far away is the LZ?” a voice behind them asked. Tancretti looked up to see the CIA team leader-Henderson, Nichols, whatever his name really was, standing over them.
“Forty klicks,” Luke replied, his words clipped and curt. “Your target is eight beyond that.”
The CIA man nodded quietly. “Thanks.”
4:43 P.M. Eastern Time, September 23rd
CIA Headquarters
Langley, Virginia
Bernard Kranemeyer had just checked his watch when the phone in his shirt pocket rang, its shrill buzz disturbing his thoughts. The strike team should be well on their way. The mission had been launched.
“Kranemeyer speaking.”
“Director, this is Daniel Lasker.” The twenty-eight-year-old Lasker was head of ClandOps tactical communications. “Sir, we’re getting the first real-time imaging from the NRO down here in the op-center.”
His habit of referring to Kranemeyer as “sir” was a perpetual source of annoyance. The DCS, who was proud of his five-year career as a Delta Force sergeant major, associated “sir” with the officer class. He’d worked for a living, thank you very much.
“It’s about time Sorenson got on that,” he snorted in disgust. “What’s it showing?”
“That’s why I called, sir. We have a problem.”
“Why?” Kranemeyer demanded, irritation showing in his tones. “What’s going on?”
“The Iranians have moved a SA-15 Gauntlet on-site,” Lasker replied. “Our team’s flying straight into a trap. I need your permission to break radio silence.”
“Do it ASAP,” was Kranemeyer’s curt order. “I’m coming down.”
“Right away, sir.”
1:45 A.M. Tehran Time, September 24th
The Huey
“Thirty klicks,” Tancretti announced grimly, replacing his NVGs. “I have the bird, Jeff.”
“Roger, sir. We should be there soon.”
“What is the maximum range of your radar?” Major Hossein asked, glancing at the missile crew. It was a question he regretted not asking before.
“Twenty-five kilometers, sir. Wait a moment!” the man exclaimed, typing something into the small computer in front of him. “We have a contact, just coming into our range.”
“Identification?”
“Nothing, yet. It will take a couple of moments for the system to analyze the threat.”
Hossein watched the screen intently, waiting as the blip grew larger. “How soon can you engage?”
“Once the target is within twelve kilometers. At that point, we will switch on our fire-control radar and take them out.”
“Get it done.”
“Eight klicks out,” Colonel Tancretti announced over the intercom. “Get ready for insertion.”
Harry nodded wordlessly, looking around at his team. They were ready. It was time to do their job. To say they did not fear what lay ahead-that would have been an error. They were all afraid. Any sane man would be. But this was what they were trained to do.
“Seven klicks…”
4:52 P.M. Eastern Time
NCS Operations Center
Langley, Virginia
Lasker was waiting for him when the elevator doors opened. “Sir, we just finished interfacing our comms with the Air Force network.”
Kranemeyer transfixed him with a hard glance. “What are you telling me for? Do it, for heaven’s sake.”
“Right, sir. Follow me.”
1:53 A.M. Tehran Time
The campsite
“Another kilometer, sir, and we can launch,” the technician informed him, glancing away from his screens.
Major Hossein nodded, impatient. This was it.
The Huey
Tancretti’s headset came alive suddenly, a burst of static over the hitherto silent radio network. “Colonel, this is Danny Lasker, communications coordinator for Operation TALON.”
What on earth?
“I’m ordering mission-abort, colonel. You’re flying into a trap.”
“Say again, sir?”
“Luke, we’ve got a problem,” the co-pilot exclaimed. “We’re being illuminated by fire-control radars, type ‘Scrum-Half’, I repeat, ‘Scrum Half.”
“Roger,” Tancretti acknowledged, his mind whirling. A narrow canyon appeared in front of him and he pulled back on the control levers, forcing the old helicopter up and over…
Two 9M331 missiles rose from their launcher, accelerating rapidly as they flashed across the desert, their burning tails like a meteor in the night sky.
Kill probability: ninety-five percent.
Harry heard the conversation in the front, heard the warning, felt the helicopter lurch upwards. The ground flashed past below him, only feet away. “Out! Out!”, he heard a voice scream, realizing a moment later that it was his own.
He grabbed Davood by the shoulders and shoved him toward the door, following a moment later. Harry hit the ground on his side, the impact driving the breath from his body, his AK-47 landing a few feet away.
Rolling over, he started to reach for it, groping blindly in the darkness. The next moment, the world exploded around him…
4:55 P.M. Eastern Time
NCS Op-Center
Langley, Virginia
Five thousand miles away, Daniel Lasker could hear the explosion over the open comm link.
“Colonel! Colonel!”
There was no response. Only the hoarse echo of his own voice in a suddenly still operations center. The comm specialist turned to face Kranemeyer, his face a ghostly white.
“They’re gone,” he whispered. “They’re all gone.”
1:57 A.M. Tehran Time
The campsite
The major could see the explosion off in the distance, hear it reverberate through the mountains. The technician looked up from his radar screen. “Target destroyed, sir,” he reported, making no attempt to conceal his excitement.
Hossein nodded. “Good. Corporal, I want you to get off a report to Tehran. I’m taking a detachment down there to check for survivors.”
The technician’s smile was barely visible in the darkness. “I don’t think you need to worry, major. There won’t be any survivors.”
Harry rolled over on his back, blinking against the fiery glare of the explosion. The Huey had struck the edge of the cliff and then cartwheeled into the canyon, disappearing from sight. He reached down, feeling for the NVGs that hung around his neck. His rifle was somewhere, in the darkness around him.
Whether anyone else had survived, he had no idea. And that wasn’t his chief concern at the moment. First he had to recover his primary weapon and prepare for battle.
Each man of the CIA team was trained to fight alone, if need be, as well as a part of the team. Alone, they were deadly. Together, they were almost unstoppable.
But someone had managed to stop them- all of them, Harry reflected grimly. Blown them out of the sky without warning. Without a chance.
His hand touched the folding metal stock of the Kalishnikov and he pulled it toward him, flicking the safety off with a practiced motion.
He dropped to one knee behind a rock, toggling his headset mike. “EAGLE SIX to all teams. Come in, come in.”
Their radios were the latest generation of encrypted technology, eight-kilometer range, a built-in jammer to prevent enemy direction-finders from locking in on their signal. “Come in, come in.”