“Before I get to that, I need to lay out a few ground rules,” Mr. Jenkins said. “Obviously what I do isn’t covered by US security regs. So I can’t throw that at you. But if you’re going to talk, in the military or out, you talk. From what I’ve been told, you’re very good at keeping your mouths shut. It’s one of the requirements I laid on the people I set to finding me some pilots. I didn’t expect females, frankly, but I don’t really care, either. I’ve got females going much more in harm’s way than you’ll be. I’ve got a green intel team that’s going to be doing their cherry combat drop with nothing but green jumpers on their team into nasty terrain in the middle of absolute Injun Country. Two of them are female. So you can see that I don’t hold your sex against you. I’ll use whatever tools come to hand. In this case it is, potentially, you two.”
“We don’t talk,” Kacey said. “But I take it the US government doesn’t want this talked about, either?”
“Not a bit,” Mr. Jenkins said, leaning back. “This is as black as it comes. So black they can’t even use their black ops boys. The term is ‘deniability.’ I don’t work for the US government, they just occasionally let me know about issues that need attending to. If I successfully attend to them, I get some money from that.”
“Enough to maintain your own army,” Tammie said with a snort.
“Enough to train, build and so far maintain it,” Mr. Jenkins said with a slight grin. “So far.”
“That’s expensive,” Kacey said, regarding him closely. “So are helicopters and pilots.”
“I only get called in on very expensive operations,” Jenkins said with a shrug then leaned forward and locked his eyes on first Tammie’s eyes and then hers. “So here is the deal. I have to take my team into Injun Country, which is surprisingly close but also very hard to get to. I have helo transport for part of the trip but for political reasons that is as far as it can go. Once in Injun Country I’m going to need helo support. I’m going to definitely need evac for two people of interest. I’m probably, almost certainly, going to need dust-off and probably resupply. The LZs might be warm, they might be unknown or they might be hot. I’m going to need pilots who really don’t give a rat’s ass; they’re going into the LZ if they’re asked. I don’t say ‘told to’ I say ‘asked.’ If one of my teams is on the horn screaming for ammo or dust-off, I need pilots who are going to be willing to take the same risks as the rest of us. I need pilots who have balls, in your case ovaries, the size of mountains. Because every single person I’ve got has those size balls or ovaries. And because otherwise, well, I hope it was a nice trip but you don’t want to be associated with me.”
“Okay,” Tammie said, half wonderingly. “That’s an interesting proposition.”
“I hate to ask this,” Kacey said. “But I was raised to be practical… ”
“I’d like you as permanent, or semi-permanent anyway, additions,” Jenkins said, leaning back again. “The vig is two-hundred fifty grand per year and combat bonuses. The bonus on this mission is fifty grand. If you don’t make it, a half a mil goes to your beneficiaries. And let me be clear, there is a chance you won’t be around to spend the money. There is a chance that I won’t be around but there are other people to cut the checks.”
“You’re going on this op?” Tammie asked, still with that vague sense of wonder in her voice. Kacey could comprehend it; she felt like she’d stepped through the looking glass ever since the visit from Major Stang.
“This mission is tight any way you look at it,” Jenkins said, shrugging. “I’m taking everyone I’ve got, including me. It’s… very hairy. This area is going to be secured by a Ranger company in our absence.”
“Well, the money’s right,” Kacey said, shaking her head. “But you’ve really got to work on your sales pitch.”
“I’m not out to pitch you,” Jenkins said, shrugging. “I want you here because you want to be here, because you love flying, because you love flying right at the edge of your ability and are hard, cold motherfucker combat fliers. I was told that was what you were, that you bitched unmercifully when the Marines pulled both of you off line duty and that you’d had serious experience in hot, hard, nasty flying conditions so you knew what you were going to be missing. I need that. But I don’t want you here if you’ve lost that edge or you’re not really what you seem.”
“Well, we both ditched a bird in the Carribean and that was about as hot, hard and nasty an operation as you could ask for,” Tammie said with a chuckle. “I’ll add that the bird going down really wasn’t our fault. There were… extenuating circumstances.”
“Oh, crap,” Jenkins said, really leaning back and then grinning, hard. “Wait, were the extenuating circumstances a nuclear blast?”
“I can neither confirm nor deny… ” Kacey started to say and then really looked at him. “Oh my Fucking God.”
“I said I get paid well,” Mr. Jenkins said with a grin. “And that’s because I usually get my ass shot off and I’m very attached to it.”
“That was you,” Tammie said, really grinning now. “I figured you for dead; I’ve only seen that much blood one other time and that guy didn’t make it even with a medic and a defibrillator in the bird. He wasn’t unconscious and strapped into the seat of a cigarette boat.”
“I’m a hard person to kill,” Jenkins replied. “As any number of dead people can attest. I’ll go ahead and add, since it’s really germane and I’ve got to trust such sterling characters as yourself, that we’re on the same track. Three or four Russian nukes. They’re being traded to the terrorists, through the Chechens, for a sizeable sum. We have a location and time of the transfer. But it’s right in Chechen territory. There’s also a scientist, probably working under duress, involved. We need to get the nukes, the scientist and his daughter out, all in more or less functioning order. And, of course, this time keep them from detonating. I’ve got a hundred and twenty shooters and the Chechens have about four hundred, that we know about, in the area. From your POV, they have heavy machine-guns, 12.7 milimeter and possibly some MANPADs. No solid evidence on the MANPADs but it’s the way to bet.”
“That is kind of adverse,” Tammie said, shaking her head. “Blackhawks will take a fair amount of damage, but not a whole hell of a lot, trust me.”
“Oh, that’s one thing I forgot,” Jenkins said. “We’re not using Hawks, we’re using Hinds. That’s why you were chosen. You both did a transition stint with the 6th SOS. Frankly, I was delighted to get someone Hind qualified.”
The 6th SOS was a multi-service squadron under Air Force control that flew several non-US helicopter systems, including the Hind-D a Russian attack helicopter. Unlike US attack helicopters, however, it had a crew/cargo area in the rear that could carry five personnel plus a crew-chief or be reconfigured for aerial-ambulance duty. The Hind was heavily armored and generally referred to as a “flying tank.” During the Afghan wars the quote used about the Hind by the mujaheddin was “We do not fear the Russians, but we fear their helicopters.”
Kacey started to reply and then couldn’t help bursting into a half hysterical laugh.
“What?”
“I’m getting Hinds,” Jenkins said with a shrug. “They’re cheaper than Hawks, more robust and I can get them, fast. Two birds are being retrofitted in Czechoslovakia, sorry, ‘The Czech Republic’ at the moment for high altitude conditions. If you agree, and I’ll give you the rest of the day to think it over, you’re on a plane tomorrow for the CR. You’ll go to the factory, refresh and then, in the company of a couple of the company’s pilots, ferry them back here. That will give you just enough time to brief in on the details of the op, get used to the local flying conditions and then do the op. We’re on short time here.”