Dark Territory

by Leo J. Maloney

  They angled back up and then leveled off at twenty-four hundred feet. Pretty good given that they were about 1,000 feet out.

  But their speed was down and their 2 to 1 glide ratio was closer to 1.5 to 1.

  They would never make the pass unless they hit an …

  Updraft.

  It forced them up as fast and as hard as that first downdraft, though not for as long.

  But it was long enough to put them just over the bottom of the pass … maybe.

  Morgan could see the mountain below them, looking close enough to touch. It nearly was.

  Morgan kept his concentration and his focus forward. They’d either hit the rocks below … or miss them.

  In three.

  Two.

  One.

  Morgan could have reached down and touched the rocks beneath them as they shot out through the pass and into the open air, their altitude increasing as the mountain fell away from them.

  There were five hundred feet between the two men and the ground. And then a thousand, and then two.

  Morgan let out his breath.

  “Nice,” Conley said. “Close enough for you?”

  “Just right,” Morgan said.

  “Two o’clock,” Conley said.

  “I see it,” Morgan replied.

  What happened next was relatively easy. They kept their eyes on the landing site as they detached their hip tether.

  “See you on the ground,” Conley said.

  Then they disconnected the helmet line, which broke their communications link, which was fine, since they didn’t need it for this part.

  Morgan watched his position and altitude.

  Seven hundred feet.

  Then six. Five hundred was the floor, the lowest they could go and still have a good jump—a jump they would walk away from.

  Of course, that would only work if the chutes deployed. If the parachutes failed they still had their reserves—which would open at almost precisely the same time they hit the ground.

  Morgan pulled his rip-cord and felt the tug of the open chute. His peripheral vision told him that Conley’s parachute had deployed as well.

  The landing was softer than Morgan had anticipated. He kept to his feet and didn’t have to roll, which was fine with him given the weapons and other gear he was carrying.

  A few seconds after he hit the ground, Conley came down a few yards away. By then Morgan had his mask off. “Glad you could make it,” he said.

  Pulling his own mask off, Conley said, “You made it down first, but I hit the bullseye.”

  Morgan looked at the ground and saw that Conley was dead center in the circular clearing that was their landing target.

  “So we’re tied,” Conley said. “And congratulations, we just set the world record for horizontal distance on a HALO jump from 40,000 feet. Of course, no one outside of Zeta will even know.”

  Morgan smiled. That was the life they had chosen. “Now for the hard part.”

  The two men collected their jumpsuits, helmets, and masks and dropped them into a Mylar bag with one of Shepard’s incendiaries. Morgan set the timer on the explosive for four hours. Whether they succeeded or failed, they had to make sure there would be no way to trace the operation back to Zeta, or the United States.

  Morgan quickly inventoried his weapons. Two of his Walther PPK pistols were holstered around his waist. He assembled his sniper rifle while Conley did the same. They also turned on the phones and ear comms that they had turned off during their descent.

  A few minutes later, they were looking down on the Chinese military base. It was nestled inside a ring of mountains, the top of which the two agents had barely cleared during their jump.

  Conley recognized the layout from the satellite photos and the interactive computer walk-through that Shepard and O’Neal had created. The dominant feature was an airstrip that ran most of the length of the “valley” that held the base. At one end was the hangar that held their objective. At the other end there was a physical plant that held the generators and water pumps that fed the base as well as offices and troop dormitories.

  Fortunately, those dormitories would be mostly empty. The base had a small garrison of soldiers, whose main job was making sure that no locals wandered in.

  “Impressive for an installation that doesn’t exist,” Conley said.

  Morgan nodded. “Of course, they are about to be taken down by agents who don’t exist.”

  And if all went well, the Chinese would lose their prize new fighter jet that also didn’t exist—at least not yet. According to official reports, the aircraft was not going to be ready for another two years. Intelligence suggested that this plane could rival the F-22. By itself, those two pieces of information weren’t critical.

  Misinformation about timelines for new military hardware was standard for most nations. And even if the plane was a match for the F-22, the Chinese couldn’t hope to match the sheer number of fighters in the United States’ arsenal.

  No, the real reason they were there was because of the new weapons system that the plane contained. According to Diana Bloch, the new system was top secret and even if Zeta’s contacts in the government knew what it was, they weren’t saying.

  But if all went well, the plane and any secrets it held would be in U.S. hands by the end of the day.

  “Okay, we know the drill. Power first,” Morgan said.

  “Copy that,” Conley said.

  Their landing site had placed them almost directly behind the low building that held the generators.

  However, their first stop would be the rear of the administrative offices a few hundred meters to their right. If they kept to the rocky base of the mountain behind them, they would be hard to spot. The agents took up position about 600 yards beyond the storage shed in the back of the building.

  Intel said that it held office equipment and cleaning supplies. It was the least important location on the base. It was also their first stop.

  Both men took position with their sniper rifles. Usually, Morgan didn’t favor the .308—it was small caliber and lower power. Almost impossible to get a kill shot past 700 yards with the weapon because the rounds just didn’t have the momentum.

  The benefit for this mission was that the rifle was low in weight, and thus worked for the HALO jump. It was also perfect for this application.

  Morgan and Conley took their positions and set up the rifles on their tripods. Morgan noted the wind and temperature and did some quick calculations in his head. Then he adjusted the gun until the small security camera came up dead center in his scope.

  He knew Conley was doing the same.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  “Ready,” Conley replied.

  “On three,” Morgan said.

  “Two.”

  “One.”

  The agents fired together and Morgan was grateful for the .308’s relatively quiet report.

  Morgan watched through the scope as the security camera disintegrated.

  “Got it,” Conley said.

  The agents grabbed their rifles and were heading back to the power station.

  Morgan knew that when the cameras went out, the base’s few guards would investigate—though there wouldn’t be any immediate alarms. When two cameras went out simultaneously in a non-sensitive area, their first thought would be equipment failure.

  With luck, Morgan and Conley’s next move would also be chalked up to equipment failure, at least for a short time. In unison, the agents each took a device from the webbing on their chests, and unfolded it to reveal a small drone with four propellers. Morgan hit a switch on the bottom of the drone and it sprang to life as Conley did the same.

  When released, the drones took to the air, one in a random flight pattern behind the storage shed, while the other flew off to make mischief elsewh
ere on the base. Both would activate motion and heat sensors—telling the base security system that something or someone was moving around. Of course, video would show nothing and, once again base command would assume equipment malfunction.

  “This may actually work,” Morgan remarked.

  “Clockwork so far, my friend,” Conley replied. “Stealth. You don’t always have to go in the front door, guns blazing.”

  Morgan grunted. It was true he often favored a more direct approach, but, ultimately, he believed in doing whatever worked. In this case, sneaking around had worked out pretty well so far.

  They were on the move, heading to the rear of the power station where they used their sniper rifles to take out the video cameras there, and then simply walked up to the back door.

  Morgan tried the door. It was unlocked.

  Conley shrugged. “I guess they don’t worry about unannounced guests.”

  “Not out here,” Morgan replied.

  The agents stepped inside. The room was filled with the hum of the generators in front of them. That was good; the noise would cover what they were about to do.

  The primary and backup generators ran on natural gas. A larger base that wasn’t top secret might have had a small nuclear reactor but those were harder to hide.

  There was nothing fancy or stealthy about what they did next. They each took two of Shepard’s incendiaries from their gear and placed them at two different points on each generator’s natural gas supply lines and set the timers.

  “Let’s go find our ride,” Conley said.

  Immediately, the door in front of them opened and two Chinese soldiers stepped into the generator room from the front of the building.

  The soldiers were startled when they saw the Americans, but before either could react—or even reach for their sidearm—Conley called out something in Chinese.

  Whatever Conley said, the two soldiers looked up at the ceiling.

  Instantly, Morgan and Conley were on the move. Morgan took three steps toward the soldier closest to him and threw himself into the air. The other man barely had time to look down from the ceiling to see Morgan hurtling toward him in a flying tackle.

  The soldier went down pretty hard, hitting the ground with Morgan’s weight on top of him. Yet the man stayed conscious and started flailing at Morgan. Twisting his body, Morgan positioned himself behind the soldier and placed the man in a choke hold.

  Still dazed, the soldier grabbed at Morgan’s arm for perhaps a minute and then went still, unconscious. They were under orders not to kill the base personnel unless absolutely necessary. That order came from the very top of Zeta, from Mr. Smith himself apparently.

  Normally, Morgan would not have liked to leave enemies around who could wake up and make trouble for them. But in this case, one way or the other, the mission would be over before these men woke up.

  Morgan could hear voices from the front office area, even over the hum of the equipment. A quick look told him that there was no way to lock the door from this side. That made sense, there would be no reason to lock base personnel out.

  That’s when Dan reached into one of his pouches and pulled out four of his own favorite toys. They weren’t as sophisticated as some of the ones Shepard designed but they would do the job.

  He heard Conley’s chuckle as he took the rubber door stops and placed two of them on each of the double doors, wedging the steel doors shut.

  If anyone tried the door, it would buy the agents at least a few minutes—and that was all they needed.

  “Less than five minutes,” Conley said, checking his watch.

  Morgan was up. He glanced at the soldiers. The men weren’t dead, but they would be close by when the incendiaries went off. Then of course, the generators and their tanks would likely blow.

  “Let’s drag them outside,” Morgan said.

  Conley didn’t argue; they took the soldiers outside and relieved them of their weapons.

  Morgan checked his watch. Three minutes until the fireworks started.

  They had to get away from the power station and in position for the next phase of the plan. With luck, they would be in the air in about fifteen minutes. And with no power, base command wouldn’t even be able to report what had happened until they were long gone.

  They kept to the foothills of the mountains as they ringed around, counter-clockwise, to the hangar.

  “Do you hear that?” Conley asked.

  “It’s the hum from the …” Morgan said.

  “I thought so too at first, but that’s not the generators,” Conley said.

  Of course, they wouldn’t be able to hear them this far outside the building. Certainly, they wouldn’t be getting louder.

  Whatever the sound was, it definitely wasn’t good.

  And Morgan was pretty sure he knew exactly what it was.

  “Yep, there it is.” Conley pointed.

  The Chinese military troop transport was making its final approach on the airstrip. They would be down in minutes.

  “Looks like the general’s early,” Morgan said.

  “Not likely,” Conley replied. “I’m sure he’s exactly on time. They probably moved up the test flight.” Checking his watch, he added, “By exactly two hours.”

  “How many men does he have in his honor guard?” Morgan said.

  “About fifty. Then there’s the aircraft crew,” Conley said.

  Morgan remembered something and checked his watch just as there was a thud from the power station, followed by a satisfying explosion. The flash reached maybe fifty feet in the sky.

  “There goes their power, and communications,” Conley said. “Of course, the transport will have long range communications.”

  They watched the transport sail over the pass that they had barely cleared in their wingsuits. The aircraft would be on the ground in minutes.

  “I think we need a new plan,” Morgan said.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Above all I need to thank my wife, Lynn, who encouraged me to become a writer. She spent the better part of three years, which is how long it took to complete my first novel, Termination Orders, typing my handwritten notes, correcting my spelling and grammar, and getting it ready to send to a publisher. She constantly propped me up when I became frustrated and discouraged. Thank you, Lynn, for all you have ever done for me.

  Special thanks to my entire team at Kensington for all they do and especially to Steve Zacharius, the owner of Kensington Publishing, who gave me my first break in the business by taking a risk on an unknown, untrained writer and published Termination Orders. I realize what a special editor I have in Michaela Hamilton. She is not only my editor, but has also been a mentor and a dear and treasured friend.

  I also want to thank New York Times bestselling author John Gilstrap, who has provided me with valuable information and guidance along the way. Thanks to the following New York Times bestselling authors for their generosity in providing me with blurbs for my previous books: John Gilstrap, Hank Phillippi Ryan, Ben Coes, Meg Gardner, Lee Child, Mark Sullivan, and Marc Cameron.

  Mayur Gudka is not only my social media guru, but a friend who takes time to listen and help me in many different ways. His advice for promoting my books has been invaluable.

  Thanks to my agent, Doug Grad, who took me on as a client and has done a fantastic job guiding me through this literary adventure.

  I want to thank my talented writing team, who help me make the Dan Morgan thriller series a continuing success.

  Lastly, I want to thank all my loyal fans and supporters from the bottom of my heart as they continue to buy and read my novels. You are the best.

  About the Author

  Photo by Kippy Goldfarb, Carolle Photography

  Leo J. Maloney is the author of the acclaimed thrillers Termination Orders, Silent Assassin, Black Skies, Twelve Hours, Arch Enem
y, and Rogue Commander. He was born in Massachusetts, where he spent his childhood, and graduated from Northeastern University. He spent over thirty years in black ops, accepting highly secretive missions that would put him in the most dangerous hot spots in the world. Since leaving that career, he has had the opportunity to try his hand at acting in independent films and television commercials. He has ten movies to his credit, both as an actor and behind the camera as a producer, technical advisor, and assistant director. He lives in the Boston area and in Florida. Visit him at www.leojmaloney.com or on Facebook or Twitter.