Mike paused at the third observe point and clicked his radio twice. A brief burst indicated that Lasko had received the communication and was moving out. The sniper team would bound far forward, probing for a good sniping point, one where they could observe both flanks of the teams. Mike would have liked to have another sniper team on their right flank, Lasko probably being on the left. But they’d arrange that after the first stop.
They had fifteen klicks, and a supply drop, to make before dawn. They weren’t going to stop to deploy another team. If they did they’d have to hurry. Hurrying was bad.
Worrying was bad, too. He couldn’t help but wonder what was happening with the other teams. He was with Sawn and Adams was with Vil. But that left Oleg, Pavel, Padrek and Yosif on their own. He had four other teams out there without “adult leadership.” Now that he had time to think about it, he probably should have co-located with Yosif. Yosif was a great guy but if anything his team was the least… something. Motivated didn’t quite fit it. They just hadn’t seemed to find their niche, yet. All the other teams, while being all-around players, had sort of settled into a niche. The way the teams had been “chosen” was something like a pick-up football game. Mike had required that each team be made up of members from across the Six Families, but had let the Keldara decide who went with which team. It was only later that he realized the team leaders had ended up doing most of the picking and choosing.
Oleg was a bull. He’d chosen mostly bulls. Team Oleg was the go-to team for smashing something. Vil was a rapier to Oleg’s battle-axe, his team was mostly lighter, faster guys. The kind of guys who ran track instead of playing football. But Vil was a natural feint and flank guy; his team quite often totally screwed Oleg’s in exercises by feint and flank. Sawn was slow, cautious and hated to attack a frontal position. He was a “kill them all as quietly as possible and leave no trace” guy. Padrek was the best Keldara at devices, including ones that exploded. Given his druthers, he’d hit a position with grenades and satchel charges and wait for the opposition to surrender. Pavel’s team actually had some climbers in it. When Mike had realized somebody had to have a totally screwed route, he’d chosen Pavel even over his own or Adams’. Pavel was the kind of guy who always had a spare rope and if he had the choice of going around a cliff or up it, he’d go up. If he’d grown up in a middle-class household in the US he’d be on a climbing wall, or a building side, every weekend. Call his team “moutain ops” to a greater degree than any of the others.
Yosif, though, he didn’t seem to have a niche. And he seemed to know it. His team just didn’t have the same… oomph as the others. Mike should have put himself with Yosif. He realized, now, that he’d come with Sawn because at a level they were the most compatible. Sawn was a ghost.
If any team was going to blow the op, though, it had to be Yosif’s. And he couldn’t even check on their progress.
It was going to eat him all the way to the rendezvous, damnit!
Adams followed Vil out of the bird and took a knee in the middle of the V the Keldara had formed. As soon as the birds started to lift up he waved the point forward. When they gave the all clear he moved out.
The Keldara were moving well. They’d done this shit a thousand times already so except for the high alpine stuff they were dialed in. If any of the teams had problems in the high up, he’d find out at the rendezvous.
In the meantime, he let his brain go blank and soaked up the night. Thinking at a time like this could get you killed.
“I think this is good,” Vanner said, looking at the cluster of boulders.
It had taken them most of the night to descend from their hide to the area of the op. The questions, once there, were: were they close enough to receive Katya and could they remain undetected.
They were practically on top of the town of Gamasoara; they could see it clearly from their position. But they still had about a thousand meters of elevation over it and straight line distance was nearly four thousand meters. Nearly three miles away. If they could find a good hide they should be golden.
And it looked to be a pretty good hide, a cluster of boulders with enough soil around them to dig in.
“Ivan, have a seat,” Vanner said, lowering the Keldara to the ground. “And hand me your e-tool.”
The entrenching tool was a folding shovel. This one was a German design with a larger, broader, head than the standard American one. But it was still a little folding shovel. Building a hide big enough for all five of them was going to be a stone bitch; Vanner hadn’t done any serious digging since boot camp in Parris Island.
“Olga, see if you’re getting anything from Katya,” Vanner added, checking the time. They weren’t going to finish the hide before dawn but they could build something for concealment. “And if you do, give her a tickle and tell her we’re here.”
For Katya, the burst ping was like a sudden flash of coldness in her brain.
The Amis had wired her for sound and video, literally. In an experimental operation they had installed implants in her head that picked up both whatever she saw and whatever she heard.
She could receive transmissions as well. But a conversation was a bit much given that the Chechens could have intercept capability. So the brief burst, no more than atmospheric static to any but the most sophisticated intercept gear, didn’t even have any content. There was no “internal” for anyone to find. It was just the eqivalent of “we’re here.”
Katya’s transmission systems were even more advanced than those available to the Keldara, absolutely state of the art in communications. It is said that anything in the commo field is obsolete before it’s fielded but the only thing more advanced than the transmitters in Katya’s mastoid bone were gleams in scientist’s eyes.
Katya didn’t know much about communications, but Vanner had admitted that, except with the gear designed to pick it up, he couldn’t detect Katya’s stuff even when in the same room. So she had no problem “opening up” the transmission, a mental exercise like moving a muscle that wasn’t there.
“So, are you well?” Katya said, crossing her legs and looking steadily at the girl on the bed.
“What do you care?” the girl asked.
“Just checking,” Katya replied. “If you die I suspect I will as well.”
“I’m fine,” the girl said. “I’d guess from your conversation with the Asshole-in-Chief that you, personally, could care less.”
“More or less the case,” Katya said. “Your exercise period is coming up. Be glad.”
“I’d be glad if someone would read to me or something,” Marina replied. “Even play some music. Something.”
“Well, I don’t have a book and wouldn’t read it to you if I did,” Katya said. “Nor do I have a music player. So I guess you’re stuck.”
“Okay, you can’t know my name, but what’s yours?” Marina asked.
“Katya,” the agent replied after a moment.
“Hello, Katya, I’m the girl in the mask,” Marina said. “I know you’re a… ”
“Whore, prostitute, hooker, street-walker, take your pick,” Katya finished for her.
“Hetaera,” Marina said.
“A what?” Katya said, laughing. “Never mind, I’ve heard the term. And I am anything but a hetaera. I am a whore.”