As if to answer the question King knew better than to ask, Keasling gestured airily about the hold. “I know I don’t need to tell any of you that you were never aboard this plane. Officially, it doesn’t exist.”
“And unofficially?” asked Zelda, beating everyone else to the punch.
“Unofficially… Welcome aboard the CR-41 SR, stealth reconnaissance and transport aircraft, code named ‘Senior Citizen.’”
Tremblay snorted disdainfully.
“Don’t get too comfortable,” the general said, without missing a beat. “Once we’re aloft, we’ll be flying at Mach 2—which should put you at the drop zone in a little less than two hours. That’s how long you’ve got to get ready. Oh, and King…got some Christmas presents for you.”
Keasling gestured to a stack of large plastic containers that were secured to the deck with heavy nylon straps. King immediately went about loosening the straps so he could remove the lids. Inside the containers, nestled in hollows cut from protective foam, was all the equipment they would need for their mission, but this wasn’t just the replacement gear he’d asked Deep Blue to provide. The box held the newest, most cutting-edge — and most expensive — military hardware available.
One box held five sets of AN/PSQ-20 infrared/thermal night-vision devices, ASIP satellite radio sets with earbuds and lip mics and two ruggedized laptop computers. Another contained a bulky olive drab pack, labeled with stenciled letters that read: ‘STARS.’
King was impressed with that. Deep Blue had actually signed off on his crazy plan.
A third was opened to reveal five XM8 carbines equipped with custom sound suppressors — one was also outfitted with an XM320 grenade launcher, and King passed it to Somers, who inspected the weapon almost reverently.
Beneath the top layer of foam lay dozens of plastic box magazines. These were already loaded with 5.56 rounds for the XM8s. There were also several ammunition cans containing grenades and other ordnance. King picked out a cardboard box that was not rendered in bland military olive green, like the others, and he handed it over to Tremblay.
For a moment, Tremblay stared at it uncomprehendingly, but then his eyes lit up as he deciphered the strange code printed on the labeclass="underline" .50 AE. “Oh, Santa,” he crooned. “Stan was a very good boy.”
As if transported to heaven, the blond Delta operator sank into one of the jump seats, took out his Desert Eagle pistols, and began pushing rounds into the empty magazines.
The normally quiet Shin watched him for a moment, and then with a grin said: “You’ll shoot your eye out.”
Tremblay threw him a one-fingered salute.
King indulged in the laughter that followed, but only for a few seconds. He wasn’t looking forward to his next task. “Danno, Casey…a word in private.”
He could see in their faces that they’d already done the math; seven Delta shooters, but only five sets of gear. Bellows’s expression momentarily creased in disappointment, but then just as quickly transformed into a poorly disguised mixture of guilt and relief. Parker’s eyes however, flashed dark with rage. Keasling seemed to sense that an eruption was building and stepped over to join the men, but he did not speak; this was King’s show now.
No point in sugar coating it, King thought. Just tear the band-aid off. “You guys are staying in the rear on this one.”
Parker, who was incapable of concealing his emotional state, trembled visibly with the effort of holding back an explosion of anger. In a tight voice, the words scraping past the knot in his throat, he said, “May I ask why, sir?” The last utterance was filled with palpable contempt.
King regarded his friend coolly for a moment, but then he turned to Bellows. “Casey…”
“No need to spell it out boss. There’s always gonna be bad guys that need killin’ but I’ll only get this one chance to hug my kid.”
He offered his hand, and King took it. “It was an honor serving with you, soldier. Now, make us all proud and do something really important: change some diapers, and shit like that.”
The joke lightened the mood, but only until Bellows moved off to rejoin the others, who were now making a conspicuous effort to look busy by taking inventory of the new equipment. When he was gone, Parker wheeled on King. “What the fuck, Jack? You wouldn’t even have this lead if not for me…and now you’re leaving me behind?”
“Danno, that’s exactly why I have to keep you back.”
Parker blinked, uncomprehending.
“There’s too much that we don’t know, like what Rainer plans to do with the manuscript once he’s decoded it. The only way to get a step ahead of him is to figure out a way to translate the manuscript first. That computer we recovered contains everything we know about the Voynich manuscript, how to read it and what it can be used for. And you’re the only person who can make any sense of it.”
“Sasha can.” As soon as he said it, something seemed to click in Parker’s head. “God…you’re going to kill her, aren’t you? That’s why you won’t take me.”
“At ease, soldier,” barked Keasling.
Parker stiffened, but his ire was approaching full boil.
King wasn’t sure what tone to take with his friend; he’d never seen the man so spun up before. Parker continued to glower at him, breathing rapidly. “You don’t need to leave me behind. In fact, you need me with you.”
King shook his head. “No. If everything goes to hell — and lately, that seems to be happening a lot, I don’t want that computer falling into the wrong hands. I need it, and you, to stay somewhere safe.”
“Someone else can—”
“There is no one else. Just you.” He gripped Parker’s shoulder. “Dan, I’m going to do everything in my power to bring her back safe.”
King could tell by the subtle shift in his friend’s demeanor that he had chosen the right pressure point. There was more to Parker’s outburst than his schoolboy crush on the stand-offish cryptanalyst, but it was certainly a factor. And that, perhaps more than anything else, was why King didn’t want his friend in the field on this mission.
Because if it came down to it, and there was no other alternative, King absolutely would kill Sasha Therion.
He let the matter drop, sensing that further discussion would only rub salt in the wound. Instead, he moved back to the others. They had almost completely pilfered the contents of the containers, and now they were all settling into their jump seats in preparation for take-off. King braced himself against a bulkhead as the aircraft lurched into motion, beginning its short taxi to the runway.
“If I can get your attention please,” he said to the others. “We’re going to skip the standard pre-flight briefing—”
“Good,” chortled Tremblay. “I think we all know that our seat cushions will do fuck-all in the event of a water landing.”
King nodded, but kept talking. “I do have a couple of administrative announcements that might be of interest to you. As you know, in about ninety minutes, we’ll be invading a sovereign nation — one that would very much like to tangle with us, if only to show the rest of the world that they’ve got the balls for it. If all goes as planned, we’ll do what we need to do and beat feet out of there without anyone being the wiser. But you all know how quickly things can go FUBAR, so we need to be ready for anything.
“Each of you should now have an AN-M14 TH3 incendiary grenade. You have this for one reason only. If you are killed in action, one of your teammates will use it to cremate your remains and completely destroy all your equipment. There can be no evidence whatsoever connecting us and what we are about to do, with the government of the United States of America. Is that clear?”