As the Greyhound’s engines began to wind down, a large aft cargo ramp began lowering. Inside, the passengers already had their seat belts unfastened, except for the three handcuffed prisoners. With the extra available seats, the three men had been separated, each one sitting across the aisle from one Team member.
Novak, James, and Diaz unfastened the prisoners’ seat belts. “Don’t move,” Novak growled, pointing to each man as he walked by them.
Grant and Adler slung their rucksacks over their shoulders and walked down the ramp, seeing Garrett walking toward them. “Hey, Matt!” Grant said with a quick two finger salute.
Garrett extended a hand to Grant, then Adler. “Welcome back!”
Novak was standing at the top of the ramp, and called Grant. “Boss, we’ll take care of these guys. You want them put aboard the Gulfstream right now?”
Grant looked at Garrett. “You ready to takeoff?”
“Ready when you are.”
“Mike, go ahead and get them settled. Secure the handcuffs to their seats. Take Dao with you.”
“Aye, aye, Boss.”
With their rucksacks on their shoulders, Novak, James, and Diaz led the three men down the ramp then over to the jet.
Kwan nodded to Garrett, then continued walking to the Gulfstream.
As Stalley came down the ramp, he asked quietly, “What about the Norinco? You still want me to keep it?”
Grant had a moment of hesitancy, then responded, “Yeah, Doc.”
“Let me take your gear, Boss,” Slade said as he stepped next to Grant.
“Thanks, Ken.”
Grant called after them, “You all may want to grab something to eat before we takeoff. Matt, are there drinks on board?”
“Yeah. Stocked up yesterday.”
“Good. Thanks.”
“Looks like you’ve got a helluva lot to fill me in on!” Garrett commented, watching the men walk away.
“A helluva lot,” Adler answered.
“You seem to be short a couple of men, though.”
“The SEALs got a ride back to Coronado on a Prowler,” Grant answered. As they headed for the plane, he asked, “Matt, have you received any calls from Operations?”
“No, nothing.”
Grant ducked his head as he went into the cabin. “Maybe I’d better go see if Scott’s called. If not, I’ll call him. Joe, you wanna come along?”
“Unless you need me, Skipper, think I’ll visit the handy mini-mart. It had some tasty-looking selections!”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Grant laughed, as he reached overhead and lowered a door on a small compartment, then removed his wallet. “I shouldn’t be long.” He took off, jogging towards the Operations building.
Waiting for his call to D.C. to go through, Grant tried to process the whole mission. There were still unanswered questions about the three men, like whether the Agency had any clue about one of their own being a ‘turncoat’ as Grant suspected. Joe was right, he thought. The SOBs always turn up on our watch.
“Grant?”
“Hey, Scott.”
“I take it you’re at Atsugi?”
“Landed about forty-five minutes ago. Got the three men secured in our aircraft. The SEALs were flown to Coronado early this a.m.”
“Good. Good news.”
“So, what have you got for me? Something? Anything?”
“Looks like you were right about Lin. He did work in the Taipei Embassy. The Agency didn’t want to release much more information than that to us.”
“Yeah,” Grant responded. “Too embarrassing.”
“Agree,” Mullins said. “I don’t know what his actual job function was over there, but they’ve gotta be scrambling their asses off at Langley right about now.”
“Thought our days of filling out ‘dance cards’ was over,” Grant commented, “but guess this will still mean paperwork for us, right?” (A ‘dance card’ is an After Action Report.)
“Don’t know about paper, but I’m sure you’ll be meeting with somebody from upper management not long after you get back. Let me ask you something. Did Kwan put up much of a fight having to leave China?”
“He wasn’t happy but I think he finally realized it was best.” Every time the name ‘Kwan’ was mentioned, Grant got that familiar gut feeling, the kind he couldn’t quite put a finger on. But for him, anyone being part of the Agency always made him leery. It wouldn’t be too much longer when Kwan wouldn’t be his concern… just the CIA’s.
“If that’s it, Scott, I’ll head out.”
“Yeah, that’s all I’ve got. I take it you’re flying back the same route?”
“Assume so. Haven’t had much time to talk to Matt.”
“Okay. Talk with you when you’re home. Safe trip, my friend.”
“Thanks.”
Grant hung up the receiver, then leaned back in the chair, stretching his arms overhead, and exhaling a long breath. He stood up, adjusted his holster on his hip, then headed for the door.
The piercing sound of a Phantom preparing for takeoff made him pause on the top step outside Operations. He looked around the airfield. At the far end of the field, just beyond the last building, a helicopter’s rotors were winding up. A small tractor was towing an A-6 Intruder into a hangar, probably for maintenance. Normal everyday operations for an airbase were underway.
“Time to move,” he said under his breath. He walked down the last three steps then started for the corner.
“Head for the back of the building,” a voice directly behind him ordered.
It wasn’t so much the voice that got Grant’s attention — but the feel of a gun barrel pressing against his back.
Where the hell are they?!” Adler said, pacing at the bottom of the Gulfstream’s steps.
“Doc was roamin’ around the snack aisle,” Novak said.
“Last time I saw them, they were going to take a ‘leak.’” Diaz reported.
Adler started worrying. “Everybody grab your mikes!” Within seconds, they were ready. “DJ! Ken! Check the store!”
“What can I do?!” Garrett asked standing at the top of the steps.
“Stay here with Frank in case Skipper and Doc come back! Mike! Come with me!” He and Novak took off, heading for the hangar and surrounding area.
Slade and James raced toward the mini-mart, slowing up as they approached the automatic front doors. One behind the other, they went in, stopping briefly. Two men, dressed in flight suits, were in line at a checkout counter.
Slade whispered, “Check that half. I’ll take this side. Meet you at the back.”
With hands resting on their holsters, the two walked slowly past each aisle. At the last aisle they headed toward the back of the store, then walked toward each other, checking each aisle again.
“The ‘head’s’ over there,” Slade indicated with a thumb.
James pulled the door open. “Dammit! He’s not here!”
Slade saw a swinging door. A sign above it showed: Employees Only. He grabbed James’ arm, pointing toward the door.
James slowly pushed the door back and stepped into the storage room, with Slade right behind him. “Doc!” he shouted, seeing Stalley flat on his back next to a stack of cardboard boxes.
Slade pressed the PTT. “LT! Found Doc! No sign of Kwan!”
Adler smacked his fist into his other palm. “Shit!” he said through clenched teeth before asking, “Is Doc okay?!”
“Wait one!” Slade stood behind James, who was kneeling next to the corpsman. Stalley started opening his eyes, trying to touch his head.
James pointed to a swelling just above Stalley’s temple. “He’s gonna have a bitchin’ headache. C’mon, Doc,” he said, helping Stalley sit up.