Sinclair spoke into the voice-activated mouthpiece.
"Condor, this is Charlie One-two. Over."
The reply was instantaneous.
"Charlie One-two, this is Condor. Over."
"The balloon is up," Sinclair said.
"I will inform you when to begin your run. Over."
"Roger that. We'll be there. Over."
On board the second Combat Talon en route to Jolo Island, the Australian team leader heard the radio traffic and nodded. Everything was going smoothly. He cinched down the straps on his parachute harness one last time, then checked his submachine gun to make sure there was a round in the chamber.
He signaled to the loadmaster that they were ready. Each team member switched over to his personal oxygen, and the cargo bay began to depressurize.
Vaughn moved down the tunnel, the stock of the weapon tight to his shoulder. He felt as if he were walking into the belly of the beast, but so far they had yet to encounter any opposition. He had opened three doors off the tunnel, and all the rooms were empty.
He reached a fourth and paused as the other members of the team deployed around him. He still had no idea who the new member of the team was, or where Hayes had gone, but they had all been trained the same way so they were functioning well tactically.
The others covered him as he pushed open the door. Another tunnel beckoned. And at the end of it Vaughn could see the glow of moonlight and something else. A bright red dot. He realized it was someone smoking. Not a cigarette, but something larger. A cigar, he could tell by the odor wafting in.
Vaughn moved forward, the others behind him. He exited the far end of the tunnel onto a level area cut into the side of the mountain. And there was Rogelio Abayon, seated in a wheelchair, smoking a cigar. Now that he was outdoors, Vaughn pressed the transmit button, but didn't say anything.
"I've been waiting for you," Abayon said as the three team members circled him, weapons at the ready.
Orson stepped past Vaughn and placed the muzzle of his submachine gun on the old man's chest.
"I hope the wait was worth it. Where is everyone else?"
"Long gone," Abayon said.
"I would like to know something before you kill me."
Vaughn looked from the old man to his team leader. The contrast was striking. Abayon was a frail figure in a wheelchair, peering up in the darkness at the forms around him, a cigar held in one hand that was shaking ever so slightly. Orson was in black, his face covered by the night vision goggles, the weapon in his hand not shaking at all. Vaughn released the transmit button, knowing Tai would hear the break in static. He was rewarded a second later by her voice in his ear.
"I copied all that. I assume you're on the outside. Probably where the video was shot from. The Fulton rig is ready on top of the mountain. Let me hear what's going on."
There was the burst of static as she let go of the transmit.
Vaughn pulled up his goggles, turning them off, trying to control his shock at what Tai had just told him. He pulled the flashlight off his web gear and turned it on, causing Orson to curse and the other team members to quickly rip off their goggles.
"What the hell are you doing?" Orson demanded, the muzzle still on Abayon but his dark eyes on
Vaughn.
"Let's get this over with," Vaughn said.
"He has something he wants to say. Let him say it, then let's get out of here."
"I have a question," Abayon said.
"Not a speech to make. There is no one else here, so you do not need to be afraid we'll be interrupted."
"Where did everyone go?" Vaughn asked. Abayon smiled.
"That is a foolish question."
Orson poked the old man with the barrel of his weapon.
"The Golden Lily? Is it still here?"
"No."
"That was a mistake," Orson snapped. Vaughn felt the energy drain out of him. The adrenaline high that had kept him going was depleted, and Orson's question confirmed Tai's suspicions.
"Where did you move it to?" Orson demanded.
"That is another foolish question."
"I can make you talk," Orson threatened.
"No, you cannot."
Abayon raised his right hand from the arm of his wheelchair, revealing a red button.
"If my hand falls on this, numerous explosives will detonate throughout the complex. We will all die."
Tai watched Sinclair check his watch from her hide position. Then she watched him die as a burst of red tracers came out of the sky and hit him. Sinclair tumbled to the ground, his dead weight still holding the Fulton blimp in place.
A parachutist holding a submachine gun landed less than ten feet from the body, quickly followed by three others. Tai took a deep breath, her finger on the trigger, but she didn't fire. She could hear the conversation taking place below her on the side of the mountain and knew this had yet to run its course.
She noted the group discard their parachutes and then take up positions watching the vent. She had no doubt what they were waiting for. She cocked her head to listen to what was happening with Vaughn and waited for her chance to transmit to him what had just happened.
"Who do you work for?" Abayon asked.
"The U.S. government," Orson said.
"That is not true," Abayon said.
"That might have been what you were told, but someone else is pulling the strings."
"Listen you – " Orson began, but Abayon's hand wavered over the button, silencing him.
"You do not even know," Abayon said, almost to himself.
"That is not surprising. I have spent over six decades fighting whoever it is you work for, and I don't know who they are either."
Vaughn could see a vein bulging on the side of Orson's face. He remained still and let go of the transmit button, and Tai's voice immediately crackled in his ear.
"Take them out. All of them. We've been betrayed. Sinclair is dead. There are four men who just parachuted in, waiting in ambush at the top of the vent."
There was the brief burst of static. Vaughn felt numb. He was back on Jolo Island and things were going as wrong as they possibly could once more. That thought shocked him out of his stupor because for the first time it occurred to him that his Delta Force team might have been betrayed. Had this all been one long, elaborate setup? He shifted the muzzle of the MP-5 and pulled the trigger twice in rapid succession. The rounds hit Orson right where the vein was pulsing, taking most of his head off as they plowed through. Vaughn shifted and fired twice at the new man, again double-tapping him in the head. Then he shifted his attention to Abayon, whose hand still hovered over the red button but whose face showed surprise.
"Who are you?" Abayon asked.
"The raid to free the hostages," Vaughn said.
"You filmed it from here?" Abayon nodded.
"And you knew it was coming?" Abayon nodded once more.
"How?"
"One of my men received a tip from someone we knew to be a CIA informant."
"I led that raid," Vaughn said. Comprehension flooded Abayon's face.
"So you were betrayed also."
Vaughn didn't lower the muzzle of his MP-5.
"There's a team waiting up top to ambush me when I try to leave."
Abayon sighed.
"So I assume you do not know who is the puppet master either."
"I thought I was working for the U.S. government – as he said."