“SEAC needs tactical air support,” Prouder replied.
“Why do I feel like a virgin being led down the primrose path?” Pontowski asked.
“This is not a hostage force,” Mazie assured him. “In addition to serving as the head of the MAAG, we want you to reactivate the American Volunteer Group. If you can find the pilots, we can provide twenty A-10s.”
Suddenly Pontowski was more alive than he’d been in over a year. “Where are the Hogs coming from?”
“Don’t ask,” Wilding replied.
Thirteen
It was the little things that impressed Kamigami as he walked through the compound with Colonel Sun — the way the men talked quietly among themselves, the slight changes in equipment that stressed function over spit and polish, a lean and hungry look, and even the occasional can of Skoal chewing tobacco. “A big change in six days,” he said.
“It was always there,” Colonel Sun replied. “We only had to let it come out.” Sun pulled into himself for a moment, trying to give meaning to what had happened. “It seemed the more we cut our size, the more we…” He paused, searching for the right words.
“The more you became focused,” Kamigami said. “It’s all about battle discipline. What made the difference?”
“The swim,” Sun replied. “When Tel was in training, he told about the time you and he had to swim ashore. Did you know he was afraid of the water and could hardly swim before then?” Kamigami looked at the colonel in surprise. “So,” Sun continued, “I decided it was time we went for a swim. All of us. Four kilometers. Two men drowned, and we think a shark got another. The next day forty-two men resigned. But not the men I expected to quit. In fact, many were the ones I was counting on. I was worried what it would do to morale, but didn’t have a choice. The change was almost immediate, as if some major obstacle had been removed.”
“It’s often like that,” Kamigami said quietly.
Sun nodded. “After that it was easy. I reorganized into two squadrons — Tiger Red and Dragon Gold. Sixty men each.”
“So that explains the gold berets,” Kamigami murmured. “But are they good?”
Sun nodded. “The best.”
“You sound convinced.”
“I trained them. I’d bet my life on it.”
“You may have to,” Kamigami said. He gave Sun a sideways look. The short, wiry colonel seemed taller than before. “What about the command post?”
“We’re not going to blow it up,” Sun answered. He waited for Kamigami’s reaction as they stood in the morning sun. But Kamigami said nothing. “We’re using it for training.”
Tel emerged from the brush where the temporary command post was located, and joined them. “From Gus,” he said. He handed over a message and waited while Kamigami read it. Acting on a tip, the police had arrested eight Chinese men at Changi Airport before they could board an Air China flight to Hong Kong. All were members of the PLA and suspected of being involved with the nerve-gas attacks in Kuala Lumpur.
“No doubt,” Kamigami said, handing the message back, “the tip was from Gus.”
He turned to Sun. “I’d like to see a training exercise.”
Sun’s wicked grin was back. “My pleasure.” He spun around and walked away without saluting. He beckoned for the two remaining squadron commanders to join him and issued quiet orders. He was back in less than two minutes. “This will be a live-fire hostage exercise.” Kamigami arched an eyebrow in surprise. Live-fire exercises were iffy at best, and to use live ammunition in a confined space was asking for trouble. “Our best team will do the demonstration,” Sun explained. “They’ve done this many times before.” The four men detailed for the exercise joined them. Each was equipped differently, but all carried a Heckler & Koch MP5 with a silencer and thirty-round clip. Sun knelt and drew a sketch of the command post in the hard dirt as he reviewed the rules of engagement. “This will be a live-fire exercise with dummies. Reliable sources report there may be two terrorists, maybe more, holding a single hostage inside. Your assignment is to extract the hostage unharmed and kill the terrorists. I’ll place the dummies, and you go in five minutes. Any questions?” There were none. Sun nodded and disappeared inside as the men took their places outside the main entrance.
Exactly five minutes later the four men slipped through the main entrance in order: low man, high man, cover, and backup. Kamigami and the two squadron commanders followed at a safe distance. The men moved without making a sound, and the fourth man moved backward, covering their rear, relying on the third man to warn him of any obstacles. At the first door they stacked against the wall, boot touching boot. The leader sent a signal down the line by reaching back and touching the arm of the man behind him. When the backup man was in place and the rear clear, he sent a signal up the line by touching the thigh of the man in front of him. The leader knelt and held a listening probe against the door, listening for the sounds of breathing. Satisfied that the room was empty, he gave a signal and they moved quickly, keying off boot movement. The low man threw open the door and buttonhooked around to the left, while the high man went through at an oblique angle, clearing the room.
Within seconds they were out, and the team flowed down the half-lit corridor, repeating the drill at the second room. At the third door the leader listened and held up a finger, then two, finally three. Three people were in the room. He pointed to the left, the middle, then the right side of the room, signaling where he thought the sounds were coming from. He stowed the listening probe and removed his headset. Again his hands flashed, signing his intentions. He crossed to the other side of the inward-opening door, next to the latch, and readied a concussion grenade commonly called a flash-bang. The second man reached for the door latch and, on signal, tested it. In one quick, smooth motion he cracked the door open. The leader threw in the flash-bang, and the second man slammed the door shut. A bright light flashed through the cracks around the door, and a loud bang echoed from inside.
The leader threw the door open, and the second man burst through at an angle. The leader followed him at a cross angle. Both fired in short bursts as they entered. There was no deafening clatter of submachine-gun fire but only a popping sound mixed with the clatter of bolt actions and spent cartridges hitting the floor. The stun grenade had blown out the lightbulbs, and they were firing in almost total darkness. Then it was silent, and the third man, who was now crouched beside the door, directed the beam of his flashlight into the room, making sure he was shielded from any return fire a terrorist might send his way. “All clear,” Colonel Sun said from inside.
“What the—” Kamigami muttered. He pushed into the room with two majors close behind. Three dummies were lying on the floor, their upper torsos shattered by gunfire. It was a mute tribute to the accuracy of the two shooters and the horrible efficiency of the MP5 at close range. But instead of a dummy in the chair, Sun was sitting there, a rope looped around his body to make him look like a hostage.
“Good shooting,” Sun said.
Kamigami allowed a rare excursion into profanity. “Damn, Colonel. You could’ve been killed.”
“I told you they were the best,” Sun replied, “and I am willing to bet my life on them.”
The first shooter sank to the floor on one knee, shaking slightly. “I didn’t expect to find a live person in here.” His voice cracked with emotion.
“What did you expect to find?” Sun demanded.
The second shooter blurted an answer. “We expected to find terrorists who we were to service.”