Wheaton said, “You wanna rake those guys before we exfil?”
“That’s affirm. I’ve got them. We’re bingo fuel, but we can put thirty rounds on them before exfil.”
“Yeah, go ahead and light ’em up, One-One.”
Davenport took a moment to direct Oakley to a position where she could get a good angle for her rounds onto the machine gun emplacements, then she fired three short bursts, one at each weapon.
The carnage was immediate, but a few men crawled across the roof through the bodies and wreckage.
CWO-3 Oakley said, “Nail that Kord again, just to be sure.” The Kord was the Russian-made 12.7-millimeter machine gun in the center. It had the power to, among other things, take down an attack helicopter at great range, and no Apache pilot liked seeing one of those left operational in the hands of the enemy.
Davenport unleashed twenty more rounds of 30-millimeter shells onto the roof of the ceramics factory, destroying all equipment and virtually all of the ISIS fighters positioned there.
After speaking again with 1–2, Oakley turned his aircraft to the northeast, flying behind Wheaton and leaving the battle behind.
Carrie Ann Davenport knew she had taken out the biggest threats to the Peshmerga in the open. She didn’t have a feeling of victory, or even of great satisfaction, just a feeling that she wished they had the fuel and the ordnance to do more for the brave Peshmerga below. If she and Oakley had had more gas and guns, they could have virtually cut a swath of safety all the way through the ISIS stronghold in the factory.
One hour later Captain Xozan Barzani clicked his last loaded magazine in his AK, racked the slide to charge the weapon, and thumbed the fire select lever up to the safe position.
He stood in the center of the ceramics factory.
The fight was over.
The tide had turned instantly with the arrival of the American helicopters, and now the last of the ISIS troops had disappeared back to the west. They were all on foot, which gave Barzani great pleasure, because he’d seen with his own eyes as bearded men in black robes had climbed out of operational pickup trucks and run from them as if they were ticking time bombs, so sure were they that the helos were targeting anything with four wheels to the west of the Peshmerga line.
Barzani walked up to a brown truck on the road through the factory complex, put his hand on the roof, and stroked it in admiration. He looked inside the cab and saw the keys in the ignition. This was not a technical — there was no heavy weapon mounted in the back — but it was a good solid vehicle, and in the front passenger side he saw an RPK light machine gun with a cylindrical seventy-five-round magazine and, on the floor of the vehicle, a canvas satchel with three more loaded mags.
This was one truck he was glad the Americans had left alone.
After his squad leaders reported in, he learned he had only fifty-one troops left in his company from the 120 he had when he arrived at Kalak three days earlier, and he would mourn those martyred this afternoon when he had time to do so. But for now he gave the order to collect every weapon, every bullet, every knife, and every scrap of intelligence that could be found on the bodies. When this was done they would go back to Kalak to their sandbagged positions, and they would hope that ISIS would need some time to regroup before attacking again.
He would have liked to have held the ceramics factory, but it was too isolated a position to defend with fifty men and no heavy weapons. He knew better than to depend on the luck of an arrival of American Army helicopters over the battlefield the next time.
13
Adara Sherman sat at the conference table in Gerry Hendley’s office, across from both Gerry and John Clark. This was her big interview, and she was nervous, though the two men had gone out of their way to convey informality and friendliness. This was a serious meeting about a serious job, but they treated her the same as they would on any other day.
Adara told herself she was ready for this. She wanted this. She could ace any testing or training they had in store for her. Although well into her thirties, she was in better physical shape now than she had been when she climbed high in the Afghan Kush providing combat aid for Marines, and she knew it.
She also knew she just had to make it through this conversation, and she’d get the job she’d wanted ever since she first understood what was going on here at the mysterious Campus.
Clark switched from idle chitchat to the interview by saying, “We know you, obviously. We know how capable you are, what an intelligent young woman you are. You are brave, honest, a complete self-starter who requires absolutely no oversight.”
Gerry said, “Hell… we could all go home and you’d have this place running better than it is now.”
Adara smiled. “Kind, but untrue.”
Gerry said, “We do have one concern, actually.”
She found a way to sit up even straighter. “And what is that, Gerry?”
The two older men looked at each other. Their awkwardness suddenly made her uncomfortable. Finally Hendley said, “It’s Dominic.”
Adara’s stomach fell through the floor of the room. She blinked a little slower, and a little harder than she would have liked. “What… specifically… about Dominic?”
Clark spoke up now. “Obviously, your relationship with Dom presents a special challenge to our operation. It’s just something we haven’t had to deal with before.”
Adara Sherman looked down toward the floor. “So you know about that.”
Clark said, “We do. It’s obvious in the way you two act around each other.”
Her shoulders pulled back now. “I’m sorry, but I have to disagree. I am certain I act in an appropriate manner at all times around all the employees of the organization, Dom Caruso included.”
Gerry put his hands out. “Of course you do. But when Dom is in the room, you go out of your way not to look at him, not to engage with him in the same relaxed way as you do the others. He is the same way with you. You two are stiff and formal around each other. You have been hiding a relationship for a while.” Gerry added, “Even I could see it, and I’m the one guy around here who isn’t a spook.”
Adara nodded slowly. She wasn’t as confident as she had been one minute earlier, but she knew she owed her employers an explanation. “We were only keeping it to ourselves because we knew it would not get in the way of work, and we felt it would be unprofessional to act differently toward one another. Here, Dom is just another of the operations staff, and I’m just a member of the flight crew and the transportation and logistics coordinator for The Campus. We weren’t trying to be deceitful, just discreet.”
Clark said, “You aren’t in trouble. There is no rulebook here. Gerry did tell the boys to keep away from you when you joined the team, but that was more of a word of warning and less of an official conduct policy.”
Gerry smiled, “Thank God only one of the single guys made a move on you.”
Adara frowned playfully. “Who said Dom made the move on me?”
Gerry’s eyes widened, then he cleared his throat nervously.
Clark fought a smile. “Anyway, I have a great team in Ding, Dominic, and Jack, and unit cohesion is critically important. I have no doubts you will fit in with the boys, I’ve seen it ever since you started here. Honestly, I only wonder if Dominic will act differently if you are put in more danger as an operative. I would very much like to add you to the team. But not at the expense of losing Dom as an effective asset.”
“We have discussed this,” Adara said, “and he is fully on board with my application to the operational ranks.”