Lincoln straightens up. He’s driving even more slowly now. “Let’s keep in mind,” he says, “our goal is to recover Shaw. If we can do that by obtaining a surrender from Al-Furat, all well and good. But our warrant authorizes use of force against armed resistance—and that’s how I expect it to go.”
True thinks back to the two soldiers she left in restraints at the riad. She got lucky there. It’s going to be different this time.
“Movement at the house,” Chris says. “Two individuals in sight. Armed with assault rifles, on foot, moving quickly. Okay. They’re heading up the access lane to the road, in plain sight.”
“They want to make sure Rihab doesn’t miss the turn,” Felice says.
Rohan snorts in amusement as Chris continues his report. “Confirming that at least one of the assault rifles they’re carrying has a grenade launcher. My guess—Rihab knows there’s a car on the road behind him. He’ll post these two soldiers along the road to watch for it, make sure it’s no threat. Lincoln, if you don’t want to put them on alert, you’re going to have to drive a few klicks past. Then backtrack. Come back down the ravine on foot.”
“I don’t want to sit here in the backseat while we drive past a fucking grenade launcher,” Rohan growls, his humor gone.
True adds her own objection. “It’ll take too long, anyway. This could be over for Shaw before we get back.”
Lincoln catches her by surprise when he says, “Agreed.” Afternoon light lances through the branches of a spindly tree leaning over the road, casting mottled patterns on his scars, making his expression harder than ever to read. “Chris is right, too. Rihab has to be aware someone’s behind him.”
Chris breaks in with an update. “Here we go, folks… Rihab has turned off into the lane that angles down to the house… and his vehicle has stopped… Okay, we’ve got a little chat going on with the two on foot… and Rihab is now continuing down to the house while the two are heading up. My, these boys are in a hurry.”
“So we get to play recon?” Felice asks. “Ambush the ambush?”
“Negative,” Lincoln says. “Not right away. They need to see this truck drive past and know it’s no threat. Khalid, Miles, that’s going to be your task. I want them to believe that no one has followed them out of Rabat, that they’re out here alone, that no one is interested in what they’re doing. So you two will stay with the truck and keep on driving, like you’ve got your own destination. The rest of us will exit early. We’ll use the ravine to approach the house from this side.”
There is a rustle of activity as everyone gets ready. True grabs her pack, shrugs it on. Checks the load on the Triple-Y. Her heart is racing in anticipation and she isn’t tired anymore, not deep down where it counts.
Lincoln summarizes the challenge. “Our goal is to take Shaw alive. Our best chance to do that is to get in close, then hit hard and fast, take them out before they can take out Shaw.”
“Lethal force?” Rohan wants to know.
“As needed—and I’m anticipating the need. Officially we are obligated to evaluate any offer on their part to surrender, but until we have control, don’t waste time on it.”
Chris breaks in: “Update on our road warriors. They’re in separate positions, about ninety meters to either side of the start of the lane, hiding in weeds above the road.”
He sends True a picture with their positions highlighted. She shows it to Lincoln. “There’s a spine of rocks running down into the ravine right here,” she says, pointing to the feature. “Call it a hundred thirty meters below the house. That’ll hide us from the first road warrior as we come up the ravine. But we’re going to be vulnerable to the sentinel drone.”
“Roger,” Lincoln says, returning his gaze to the road. “Chris, register the road warriors as targets and take them out with the copters as soon as the shooting starts.”
“Roger that. I’ve got it on the task list.”
“I want a best route, one that will let us exit the truck unobserved, three or four hundred meters from the house, and then drop down toward the stream using available cover.”
“Tamara’s looking at it.”
Lincoln’s voice shifts to a more casual tone. “We’re still a few kilometers out so I’m going to take a piss break.” There’s no traffic anywhere behind them, but he pulls half off the road anyway. “Just me and Khalid. Everyone else stay in your seat and out of sight.”
He’s not wearing his adaptive camo yet, and Khalid too is dressed in civilian clothes. True watches as they walk together to the back of the truck. They really do stop to piss. Then Lincoln opens the back hatch. The starburst copters are already out of their cases, each with a rifle barrel mounted under the central pod. Working quickly, he and Khalid unlock the arms and rotate them so they’re parallel, compacting the copters and making them easier to carry.
“Miles, I need you to do a job for me,” Lincoln says. “It’s not going to involve any direct combat.”
Miles is turned half around, his elbow over the seatback. “Let’s hear it.”
“You get to deploy Roach. But you’re going to have to do it fast. No margin for error.”
“Yes, sir.”
Lincoln details exactly what he wants Miles to do.
No one questions their authority to act. Away from the oversight of the police, it’s as if they’ve become a sovereign agency, making their own rules.
Khalid is behind the wheel when they start again. Lincoln is in the backseat, getting into his camo. Felice and Rohan are already appareled, hoods on and only their eyes showing. True rolls her own hood down, fitting the mask carefully to her face, before putting her MARC visor back on.
Miles rides in the cargo area, holding down the hatch. Tinted windows help hide him from outside observation. Trees and brush, along with a slight bend in the road just before the start of the lane, will take the truck briefly out of view of the watching soldiers. That’s when Miles will open the hatch, just far enough to kick Roach out. Ninety pounds of steel, titanium, and ammunition tumbling down onto the dirt road. When the truck drives back into view of the enemy, the hatch will be closed again.
Chris speaks over comms: “Okay, we’ve got a best route. You’ll be able to exit the truck unobserved, six hundred meters below the house. A stand of trees will cover your descent into the ravine.”
True studies the route map, overlaid on an aerial photo. She commits terrain details to memory, noting the many curves of the road, the varying cover, and the rugged, rocky slope above the flat. It comes to her that there is a better way to do this.
There’s no time for hesitation. Chris will give the order soon to go. So she turns to Lincoln—only to be distracted for a moment by what she sees. Light and shadow flickering across the three figures in the backseat has coaxed complex patterns from the basic dry-forest weave of their adaptive camo. The effect breaks up and blends the outlines of their bodies, even against the solid, artificial background of the seat.
True fixes her gaze on Lincoln’s eyes—his good eye and the empty black pupil of his artificial eye—visible past the screen of his MARC visor. She speaks swiftly. “I want to modify the plan, take my own route down so we can come at them from two sides. I can exit after Roach. That puts me on the slope right above the target, midway between the two road warriors. There’s good cover in those rocks above the flat. I’ll make my way down to them. That’ll get me an early look under the canopy. And I’ll be in position to use the Triple-Y, offer some crossfire, take out the road warriors if it comes to it, be there for backup if something goes wrong with Roach.”