We’ll wait ten minutes and see if anyone was stupid enough to follow us, Ryland said, still using telepathy. He looked his men over. Anyone hurt?
Gator nudged Jonas with his foot. Heard high wire here tripped over his big feet. He somersaulted down the hill this time.
Fuck you, Gator, Jonas replied with a sheepish grin. What the hell is that bloody streak on your face? You try to kiss one of those guys?
The jungle bit me, Gator quipped back.
The relief of being alive crowded in while they did a quick inventory of body parts, hoping everything was still attached. Sam checked his gear, knowing they would be moving out fast, going somewhere a lot quieter before the next phase of their mission.
Ten minutes, Ryland announced. Team One, gather all unused claymores. Team Two will cover. We go out in single file, four meters apart.
They didn’t want to give the enemy a large target, but it was more than that. If one person accidentally stepped on a pressure mine, no one else was going to take the blast.
Kadan, you’re on point.
Kadan was a ghost, drifting in and out of shadows, up and down rocks, trees, any kind of terrain, never making a sound. He would be ten meters ahead, which would give the rest of them a chance if he came across the enemy. If he found anything, he would signal the rest of them to stop, move up on line quietly, or send Ryland up to investigate and make the decision which way to proceed.
The smell of rotting vegetation and mildew grew as they went deeper into the jungle. The jungle could be as deadly as—or even deadlier than—the enemy they were hunting. Everything seemed to want to kill them—bugs, snakes, crocs, and caiman, as well as larger animals and even the trees and vines. Monkeys had a nasty habit of giving away position with their screams.
The team kept their movements slow and deliberate, not wanting to stir up trouble while they slipped single file through miles of jungle. Kadan signaled Ryland when he found a good defensible position, and Ryland moved forward to consult.
We regroup here, Ryland decided. We’ll put phase two into operation from here.
The men set up the base, took stock of supplies left, set their claymores, and posted guards while Sam made the call home.
“Valhalla … Valhalla, Reaper One, do you copy?”
“This is Valhalla . . .”
Sam gave his report as succinctly as possible. They were deeper into the rebel territory, and the chance of anyone listening was greater.
“Phase one complete, Reapers One and Two standing.” He informed them of their remaining supplies and what took place during the first part of the operation.
“Copy that, Reaper Two. Phase two is a go.”
“Phase two is a go, Reaper Two out.”
Use hand signals or telepathy from here on out, Ryland commanded. We’re deep in their territory now.
Sam let out his breath and turned to look at the men he’d spent so much time with doing this exact same thing. They were a long way from home and had a long way to go before they were finished.
Tucker winked at him. Hell of a way to make a living and you with all those brains. Never know it, would you?
Sam couldn’t argue with Tucker’s assessment. Hunting bloodthirsty rebels in the middle of their territory didn’t seem like a genius idea right then.
Tucker snickered and took a swallow of water. Getting shot at is thirsty work.
They rested for a few minutes and then Ryland gathered them close again. The rebel camp is here. He tapped the map. The compound is set in rows. Troop barracks are the first three on the north side of AO—area of operation. The command building with coms—communications—and the leaders’ quarters is in the center. Vehicles and maintenance buildings are on the south side of the compound. Armine’s house is thirteen klicks to the west.
Ryland turned to Nico and Kadan. I want you to set up shop up here on this hill a hundred and fifty meters to the east side of Armine’s house and take him out.
Nico just looked at Ryland. He was a man of very few words, but his reputation was renowned. Kadan gave a short nod.
Simultaneously, the rest of us will work in two man teams. Kyle, you and Jonas will make your way here to the munitions dump. Keep in mind that we need to use their mortar shells and explosives to our advantage.
Gator nudged Sam. Kyle’s all happy now. You know he likes to blow things up.
Hell yeah, Kyle agreed. Doesn’t everybody?
As usual Ryland ignored the byplay. Sam, you’re going to blow this shit up here. I want all enemy coms down. Take out the entire building. Use your ability to teleport, and get all the equipment in that building, I want the building gone completely along with everything in it. Get on the roof and wire their equipment if possible.
Sam nodded, his stomach tightening. He was good at moving fast, but he would have to stay in one place to set explosives, and he’d be exposed on the roof.
Gator, you’ve got this small group of vehicles. Tucker and I will take this group here. He waited for all of them to nod understanding before continuing. While pulling off the objective, we will place thermite grenades in the muzzle of each mortar tube. Any vehicles we don’t have enough demo for we will place thermite on the engines.
The term they used for demolitions was demo, and Ryland had fallen into the familiar pattern of speaking when working.
Kyle looked pleased. Those things will burn straight through the whole engine.
Ryland nodded. That’s what we want. We’ll daisy-chain using det cord.
Daisy-chaining was a way of connecting several explosive devices by explosive cord to detonate off the same fuse so that they all blow at the same time.
We want at least five minutes of time fuse so we can clear the objective and be gone before the thermite attracts too much attention. Once you have the demo set, you move back to ORP—objective, rally point. It’s only a hundred meters from the objective, so noise and light discipline a must. If all goes according to plan, we are gone before they know we were ever here. At that point, we will make our way to the extraction point where the sniper team, Reaper Two at this point, will link up with us. From there we’ll catch a ride with Task Force 160 to the USS Ronald Reagan at sea in the Atlantic. We good?
Ryland always tacked that last on, and everyone had better damn well be good with his orders. Everyone nodded and he waved them to gear up. They moved out in single file again, edging closer to the compound. Nico and Kadan slipped into the jungle, heading for their hill overlooking Armine’s quarters. Everyone else, in designated two man teams, drifted through the thick vines to work their way in close to be ready for the signal to go.
Kadan’s voice moved through their minds. Reaper One, this is Two.
Ryland answered. Reaper Two, this is One.
Kadan’s voice was as calm as ever. Nothing ever seemed to shake him up. Two is in position, we have a good visual on Armine’s house. As soon as the fucker pokes his head out, we’ll take it off.
Ryland replied. Happy hunting; once you’ve got him, get to the PZ.
Roger that, Kadan acknowledged.
Ryland gave the command they were all waiting for. Reaper One teams make ready. Go!
Sam took off on his pre-chosen route. Sam had gone over and over it in his mind, studying the path he would take to the communications building. He knew every bit of cover possible to get to the building. He needed to get to a window and see inside the building to teleport into it. He had to have an actual destination. He had chosen his window ahead of time. The building sat smack in the middle of the rows of dilapidated huts, basically open. The north facing window appeared to have the most cover.
He moved quickly, getting the sickening jar of his physical body parts trying to catch up with his spirit. He emerged right outside the window in a crouch. He had only seconds before one of the guards spotted him. He lifted his head cautiously to peer through the dirty, yellowed pane. He just needed a spot where he could teleport inside unseen.
Two men sat at a small, rickety
table, with a radio in between them. Maps were spread out along one wall. Papers were strewn around the room. In one corner, dirty dishes attracted flies. His heart dropped when he looked in the other corner. Two girls lay in a bloody heap—both were tied up and they stared at the two men with swollen, dazed, hate-filled eyes. Neither girl could have been more than fifteen, if that.
Bile rose in his throat. He shoved down the anger. It wasn’t as if this was the first time he’d seen such things. If he left them there, they were going to die in the ensuing explosions. If he tried to rescue them, he was putting not only himself but his entire team in added danger. Swearing under his breath, he made his decision. If one of them made a sound, he’d kill them both and then do his job. But if he could, he’d get them out of there.
He took a breath, chose his spot, and moved with blurring, wrenching speed. He found himself in the corner, crouching behind a rusty water barrel, just a few feet from the girls. He made the smallest of movements, just enough to attract the nearest one’s attention. He’d already planned his move if she screamed. He’d be across the room, slashing the two men’s throats before he turned back to the girls. The compound had to be used to them screaming for a moment or two.
He had one finger to his lips, but he didn’t hold out much hope. He knew he looked like another monster raiding their farm, killing their families, and subjecting them to a life of abuse and rape. The girl nearest him turned her head, her eyes widening until she looked as if only the whites of her eyes were showing. He shook his head, keeping his finger over his lips.
She swallowed hard and nodded, turning her head to press her lips against the other girl’s ear. She whispered. The other girl jerked, her gaze jumping to him. Immediately she began to shake. For a moment time stood still while she battled for control. He willed her to be silent. She swallowed several times, and pressed her lips tightly together.
Now, he had no choice at all. He had to get the women out when they ignited the thermite, not before. He couldn’t risk the other members of his team. He took a breath and moved, a knife in each hand. He was on the men before either girl could blink. He slammed the two knives simultaneously into the base of their skulls, severing spinal cords and killing them. Neither man ever saw him. He knelt to plant charges on the radios and added a few more to the structural beams holding the hut up for good measure.
Gator’s voice came into his head. Charges set, ready to drop thermite.
Kyle was next. Charges set, ready to drop thermite.
Sam sighed. Compromised. Cleaning up the mess. Go. I’ll catch up.
Not what I want to hear, Knight, Ryland snapped.
Go. Get it done. I’m right behind you, Sam assured.
Ryland answered. Charges set. Drop thermite and fall back to the ORP.
Kadan’s voice slipped into their heads. Reaper One, this is Reaper Two. Target neutralized with extreme prejudice. Reaper Two en route to PZ.
Ryland answered him. Solid, copy, Reaper Two, Reaper One oscar mike—on the move.
The thermite triggered and all hell broke loose. From his window, Sam could see the explosion killed one of the guards and brought the entire compound to life. Rebels flooded into the vehicle holding area, trying to figure out what was happening. The charges on the vehicles and those in the munitions dump detonated together, sending a giant clap of thunder reverberating through the jungle and shaking the earth.
Sam slit the ropes binding the two girls fast, yanking the two of them to their feet, and indicating they had to leave fast, to stay behind him. He went out the door, triggering the thermite as he did, which only gave him two to four seconds. The two girls stayed close on his heels as the communications building lifted up off the ground. Wood, mud, and debris flew everywhere. Vehicles shattered. Munitions detonated, sending shrapnel in all directions. The flames, concussion, and flying chunks of white hot steel tore into flesh, searing many and leaving the few survivors too stunned to do anything. The two girls held hands, one moaning low and constantly, but they ran, barefoot, half naked, staying very close to Sam.
Reaper One, this is lost Knight, oscar mike—on the move. Sam reported to Ryland.
The GhostWalkers raced away from the war zone in two man teams. Sam used the cover of the chaos and mayhem of the explosions to make it into the trees. He stepped back to indicate the girls should run—and they did, in the direction opposite the one he wanted to go. He could only assume they had someone left to run to. He had to hightail it out of there before someone assumed leadership. He’d taken two steps when a bullet whistled past his ear and he heard it hit something solid. He dropped, spinning, just in time to see a rebel go down behind him.
Haul ass, Tucker advised.
Once everyone was back at the objective rally point, they moved out in single file, hurrying as fast as the jungle permitted, staying in cover, absolutely silent while the compound behind them roared with orange and red flames, lighting the night, heading for their pickup zone and their ride home. They were exhausted by the time they made it to the appointed clearing.
Ryland spoke into the radio while the others took up guard positions. “Valhalla, do you copy?” There was ominous silence. He waited a few heartbeats and tried again. “Valhalla, do you copy?”
Absolute silence. No static. No response. His eyes met Kadan’s. “Kadan, try your radio. Mine doesn’t seem to be working.”
The men exchanged uneasy looks.
“Valhalla, this Reaper, over. Valhalla, do you copy, over.”
Again there was that ominous silence. Adrenaline flooded their bodies as realization dawned.
Ryland shook his head. “The satellite link is down.”
“That can’t be,” Gator said. “Those fuckers burned us.”
“Forbes,” Sam said. “Duncan Forbes. I should have killed him while I had the chance. He went running back to his master and Whitney pulled the plug on us.”
Ryland scowled. “We were afraid this would happen and we’ve got a backup plan. It’s just going to take us a little longer to get home. Sam, contact Azami.” He sent the men a small smile. “She’s got a freighter off the coast waiting for us and a company jet in Turkey. We’ll make it home,” he assured.
“The coast is a long way off,” Kyle said, “and there’s bound to be a few really pissed off rebels looking for us.”
“We’ve been here before,” Ryland reminded with a small, resigned shrug.
Sam used a small radio Azami had given him. “Firefly, Firefly, do you copy? This is Burning Man, over.”
“This is Firefly. Burning Man, we have you five by five, over.”
“Coming your way, over,” Sam said. “It’s a go.”
“Copy that, Burning Man, it’s a go. Waiting on you, over.”
“Give me that,” Ryland held out his hand for the tiny radio. He even snapped his fingers, impatience on his face.
Reluctantly Sam handed it to him. Ryland spoke into it. “Firefly, this is Burning Man leader. Are we secure, over.”
“Totally, Burning Man, over.”
“Duncan Forbes, CIA man holding hands with Whitney, made a call to someone at Bragg. I want them both. Do you copy?”
Sam sucked in his breath. Ryland had just included Azami in their trusted circle.
“Copy that, Burning Man, consider it done. Firefly out.”
CHAPTER 19
Misery was tramping through hostile jungle for thirteen hours with the steady fall of rain. Long, silver sheets dropped from the sky, the drops making their way through the thick leaves of the canopy to fall in an endless, relentless stream. Everything and everyone was thoroughly drenched. The trees seemed closer at night, the tangled vines, thick and roped, hanging like nooses over their heads, ready to trap them.
The team walked in single file in absolute silence, continually alert for snakes, animals, insects, and hostiles. Sam had been in the rainforests hundreds of times, but he couldn’t recall a more miserable journey. The feeling of being abandoned was strong, thr
own away by an ungrateful government, left to die in a country they’d tried to help. He knew what Azami felt like, thrown away like so much trash. Anger mixed with trepidation with every step they took.
He was a man, trained for this shit. He’d signed on, knowing at any moment he could be burned. Azami had been an infant when Whitney had taken her from the orphanage. She’d been eight years old when Whitney had abandoned her on the streets of Japan. He’d experimented on her until he was certain her only use was a heart transplant the doctor was certain would kill her. Sick and dying, he’d had her flown in a box to Japan, taken by strangers to an alley known for sex trade, and dumped her—threw her away as he’d just been thrown away.
Anger smoldered in the pit of his belly—not for himself, but for Azami. Walking through a dark, hostile jungle couldn’t be any worse than a child waking up in a country she didn’t know, bruised and battered.
It was a four-day walk to Matadi and they wanted to find a car, but they needed a ride where a vehicle could actually travel, and most of the roads were blown to hell.
Kadan’s voice hissed a soft warning in his ear. Sam went down on one knee, sliding his gun into firing position. They all remained absolutely silent. Their point man just indicated trouble.
A rebel patrol moved like wraiths, filtering through the trees just a few meters from them. The patrol continued on past them, and Sam let out his breath, his muscles relaxing a little. The rebels suddenly halted, one man moving out of the line into the trees, just off the animal trail they were using as a path. He opened his fly and suddenly looked straight at Kadan.
Kadan was no more than a foot from him, blending into the shadows as he often did. The man blinked and looked away. Kadan didn’t move, remaining absolutely silent and still. Above his head the branch came alive, a snake lifting its head curiously to stare at the soldier. The reptile’s movement drew the rebel’s attention. He took a step closer, peering at the snake, machete raised. And then his eyes widened and he screamed, a high-pitched cry of absolute shock, to see a man so close to him.
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