Samurai Game

CHAPTER 18

Kadan glanced at his watch. It was 02:30. “Suit up. Check your oxygen. We’re thirty minutes out. Double-check each other’s gear.” He did the same and waited for Sam to nod that he’d made certain Kadan’s gear was good to go.

At 02:50 Kadan signaled the men. “Make final in-oxygen check. We’ll depressurize in five minutes.”

Sam nudged Jonas with his foot. “Wake up there, circus man. Your snoring has been keeping me awake.”

Jonas opened one sleepy eye and glared at Sam.

“In-oxygen check,” Sam said. “Get on it.”

“On it,” Jonas conceded.

Kadan said, “02:55. Depressurizing mask up.”

Sam kept his eye on Jonas. He appeared to be asleep again, but he obediently put his mask in place.

At 02:59 Kadan was on his feet. “One minute… thirty seconds. First jumper in the door.”

Sam took a breath and looked out into the night. It was a damn dark, moonless night. The engines roared as the wind clawed at him, trying to jerk him out of the plane. Adrenaline poured into his body along with that familiar tug of fear. The cold bit at him, the temperature at that elevation was about minus fifteen. He could smell the jet fuel and felt the sting of the wind on his face. The aircraft was traveling around a hundred and fifty knots and he was about to fling himself into that night sky.

“Go!”

At the command, he dove, and in a flash everything changed. The wind hit him hard, buffeting him, pulling at him, and he fought for control. He was carrying two hundred pounds of gear. His rucksack hung between his legs, straining his movements. Then, just like that, there it was. He realized the roar of the engines was gone and he was soaring through the sky, freefalling, the feeling euphoric, his heart racing with the love of the jump.

Sam pulled his chute and abruptly went from one hundred and twenty miles an hour to about twenty. The opening shock hit his body and then he was flying, the wind rushing by, his helmet muffling the sound so that he was flying in a peaceful, surreal world. For a few moments there was freedom and absolute peace as he dropped through darkness in silence. He was very aware he was suspended by a sheet of silk in a commercial air traffic space, and the thought of splattering on the window of a passing jet was there in the back of his mind.

He went in and out of the clouds, a bad fog, and then he could see the ground rushing at him. The jungle appeared nothing more than a green sea spreading out in front of him. Jumping without a strobe was always a tricky business. He could tell the difference between trees and grass by the shades of green. Thirty feet out he flared his chute, slowing him down.

He landed with a light jolt, much like jumping off a single step, reeling in his chute fast. He had the same reaction he often did-thankful to be in one piece, and ready to go again. He glanced at his watch. 03:02. Everyone should be down.

Kadan was a few feet from him. Nico a meter away. Jonas had his back to Sam and was pulling in his chute as fast as possible.

“Get coms up, Jonas; bury the chutes, Sam; and, Nico, you’re on security,” Kadan said.

“Chutes are good, Bishop,” Sam replied to Kadan.

“Okay,” Kadan said. “Let’s get the hell out of this clearing. GPS has us thirteen klicks southeast of Kinshasa. This will be our RP if we get separated.”

The rally point was a good one-plenty of cover but easily found should they need it.

Jonas spoke into the radio. “Valhalla… Valhalla, this is Reaper One. Do you copy?… Over.”

Fort Bragg command answered immediately. “This is Valhalla, Reaper One. We have you five by five, over.” A five by five was a signal report, telling the team how well they could be heard on a scale of one to five of strength and one to five of clarity.

Jonas responded. “Valhalla, Reaper One. We are up and on the hunt. Reaper One out.”

“Let’s recon,” Kadan said. “We’ll make a four-leaf clover pattern working counterclockwise. Be back here in fifteen minutes. If one of us doesn’t make it back in fifteen, the others will wait five. If they’re still not back and we can’t make radio contact, we’ll start looking for you. I have 03:30. Any questions?” When they all shook their heads, Kadan gave the go signal.

The jungle was hot and oppressive. The forest was made up of several layers, trees bursting toward the sky-the emergent level-anywhere from seventy to two hundred and fifty feet high. The canopy was sixty to ninety feet above him. If necessary, Sam could go up and run along those twisted branches that formed a highway far above the forest floor. Most of the birds and wildlife resided in the canopy. Flowers wound their way up the tree trunks toward the light, and moss and lichen crawled up the bark and over branches as well. Great ropes of tough vines dropped like snakes from above and hung in tangled twists and turns of grooves and crevices and elaborate loops.

A large snake wrapped around a branch above his head moved slightly to take a look at him. Monkeys clung to the branches and watched him in silence as he passed by. The air was heavy with moisture and rang with the steady drone of crickets and cicadas. Mosses and vines hung heavily over ribbons of water. Tangled ferns grew almost as tall as small trees, and on the floor thousands of insects moved rotting leaves and vegetation. The understory was an impenetrable, inky blackness. Tree frogs called to one another, hundreds of different sounds as various species vied for space on the airwaves.

Sam mapped out his assigned area in his mind, keeping an eye on the time. He made it back to the designated spot to find Kadan emerging from tall ferns. Nico was already waiting, but there was no sign of Jonas.

“There’s a slight depression about twenty meters to the southeast, but other than that, it’s all the same, trees, bugs, monkeys, and snakes,” Sam reported.

“I’ve got the same shit,” Nico said.

Kadan looked around him, clearly concerned that Jonas wasn’t there. “It’s the same to the north. There are a couple of small hills, that’s it. We’ll see what Jonas found and go from there, but from what I see on the map, I think that the depression would make a good hide site. We can use it for our patrol base. It’s 03:50.” He looked around again, and swore under his breath. “Where the hell is Jonas?”

Sam’s heart dropped when only silence answered the question.

“Jonas, Jonas, this is Bishop, you copy? Jonas, do you copy?” Kadan spoke into the com.

This isn’t good, Sam said, already starting to thread his way back through the jumble of downed trees and hanging vines. Anything could happen in that absolute darkness, surrounded by hostiles, and switching from speech to telepathy seemed a much better idea.

We’d better start looking, Nico agreed.

You two move clockwise. I’ll go counterclockwise. Be back here in fifteen.

Sam nodded. Fifteen minutes, check.

Jonas pushed his way out of the jungle. “Hey, where are you heading?”

Kadan spun around, relief on his face. What the fuck, Jonas. Where the hell have you been?

We were about to go looking for you, Sam said. Your fucking radio broken?

Jonas flashed a small self-deprecating grin. Yeah, actually it is. I tripped on a tree root and broke the battery case. The batteries won’t stay in now. I can fix it once we get into a hide.

Kadan let out his breath. Well, glad you’re good. I was afraid we’d have to hump your gear and your dead ass out of here.

Jonas indicated back into the jungle. The creek that’s set as the meet point isn’t far from here. I set my claymores up in case we need to “pop smoke.”

To pop smoke was to leave quickly, and given the circumstances, Sam was very much afraid that was exactly what they’d have to do.

The claymores are set on the edges of the creek. The first two are about three meters this side of where we expect the face-to-face to be. They can be popped as the team moves. I’ve got the detonator on remote. If needed, there’s a second set ten meters farther, on a time delay. Stop, pull the ring, and haul ass.

Kadan flashed a small smile, the only indication that Jonas was forgiven for taking ten years off his life. Okay. Good. Did you find an over watch position?

Jonas nodded. Yes, there’s a small hill about twenty meters to the south. I think we should have adequate visibility from there.

Kadan nodded his approval. Good. We found a hide. Let’s move. Fix your radio, genius. We’ll call for the second team’s insertion and then we’ll settle in for some rack time. One of us on guard at all times. Everybody good with an hour rotation? He didn’t wait for an answer. Good.

Once settled in their hide position, Sam made the call. “Valhalla… Valhalla, this is Reaper One.”

“Reaper One, this is Valhalla. Good signal. Ready to copy, over.”

The voice at the other end of the radio always gave Sam a sense of being connected. “Valhalla, Reaper One… mission is a go, over.”

“Copy. We have a green light for Team Two’s insertion. Valhalla out.”

Sam never had a problem sleeping anywhere, anytime. One got used to taking every opportunity because often, you could go days without a safe place to catch a few minutes of sleep, but this time, when he closed his eyes, he saw his foster father’s face. The general was genuinely at a loss as to who was selling him out and why. He couldn’t conceive of such treacherous behavior as burning a single soldier, let alone an entire team.

Sam looked up at the branches swaying high up in the canopy, the movement soft and subtle. As a rule he would let the gentle wind lull him into at least drifting so his brain would slow down and relax, but it was impossible. He knew the president had been asked for aid-to send a covert unit into the rebel held territory to wreak havoc and hopefully break the back of the rebel army by destroying munitions and vehicles as well as targeting the two men who vied for leadership of the ragtag rebels.

Someone knew of those orders and had sent the plea to Whitney. Whitney had his own agenda and had someone in his pocket in the CIA with enough clout to make a deal with one of the rebel leaders. The deal was to put Ekabela in power in exchange for the diamond. Along with a clear path to leading the rebels, Ekabela wanted a GhostWalker to pay for his brother’s death. Whitney had selected Sam and in doing so, had tipped off the team that there was a double cross coming.

Had Whitney chosen Sam with the idea it would alert the team prior to the mission? It was entirely possible. He liked to play games. And if so, how far would he go? If the CIA was in charge of the operation and was deliberating operating out of Fort Bragg, what would they do when the team followed their orders to the letter and destroyed everyone, taking the package instead of turning it over to Whitney’s man in the field?

Sam tasted anger in his mouth. They’d get burned. No doubt about it and they’d be left in hostile territory, a hell of a long way from home after stirring up a hornet’s nest. He linked his fingers behind his head. It wouldn’t be the first time it had happened.

He must have fallen asleep after all because he jerked awake when the radio came alive.

“Reaper One… Reaper One, this is Reaper Two.”

Tucker’s voice had never sounded so good. “Reaper Two, this is Reaper One, go,” he answered.

“Reaper One, we’re twenty mikes to TOT, over.”

The team was twenty minutes to time over the target. “Roger that, Reaper Two, you are twenty mikes out from TOT. DZ will be marked with IR strobe, over.” The drop zone would be marked with an infrared strobe.

“Reaper Two copies DZ marked with IR strobe.”

“Happy landings,” Sam said. “Reaper One out.”

Ten minutes later Kadan addressed them in his hushed voice over the com. “All right, boys, team two will be here shortly. Is everyone in position?”

“In position,” Jonas affirmed.

“See, Boss,” Sam said, laughter in his voice. “I told you he’d get that piece of shit fixed. I’m in position. IR strobe is active.”

“I’m looking at him, Bishop, right through my scope,” Nico said, “and he looks like he’s falling back asleep. I’m in position.”

“All right, girls,” Kadan said, “cut the chitchat and keep your ears and eyes peeled.”

Tucker’s voice broke into their coms. “Good evening, kiddies. How are we tonight? Warm, I hope. I still can’t feel my damn toes. We’re coming in from the south, southeast. I have the strobe in sight. We’re at two thousand feet. See you in a second.”

Kadan answered. “I’m at your seven o’clock. Knight is at your ten o’clock, Nico, your three o’clock, and Smoke at your five.”

“Roger, we’re on the ground. Rally at strobe,” Ryland ordered.

“Glad everyone made it in one piece,” Kadan said when all four men were down. “Let’s get to the hide.”

Chutes were buried and they moved quickly back to their hide, where Tucker called Fort Bragg.

“Valhalla… Valhalla, this is Reaper Two.”

“Reaper Two, this is Valhalla, over.” The disembodied voice came over the radio.

“Valhalla, we are in play and one hundred percent up.” They let Joint Special Operations Command know they were ready to carry out their mission and everyone had made it into the field.

Kadan took over immediately in his no-nonsense way. “Okay, everyone, around the map. The creek is here.” He jabbed the spot with his finger. “The expected meet site there. Here, about ten meters from the meet site, and here, another fifteen meters, we’ve set up claymores. The first two are on remote. The other two are on a time-delay fuse.”

He indicated another spot with his finger. “There is a hill here that we’ll be on for over watch.” He hesitated a moment and then looked directly at Ryland. “I can go in with Sam, Rye.”

Sam winced for him. Kadan was treading on thin ground asking, but Ryland had a bad habit of placing himself in the hottest spot.

Ryland’s gray gaze settled on Kadan’s face. “Are you implying I’m slowing down with old age setting in?” His voice was mild, but there was nothing mild about those steel gray eyes.

“No, sir,” Kadan said.

“We’ll stick to the original plan. Keep going.”

Kadan knew better than to sigh. “Ryland and Sam will make the face-to-face about here. Move up the creek to this spot. You should be able to see where they make their stand. The rest of you will be concealed in the tree line here. If ‘Murphy’”-of Murphy’s Law fame-“shows up, you’ll come up on line and engage the hostiles. At that point we will have fire on them from different points. That should be enough to help Sam and Rye, making the meet, break contact and get the hell out of there. At that point, we each pop white smoke and meet up here at the hide.”

Ryland nodded his head. “Looks good to me. Before we leave for the meet, we’ll have to set up to draw them back to the hide. Where you do you have the ambush planned?”

Kadan circled the site on the map. “Right here, sir. We will set claymores along this line here and here, using the terrain to bottleneck them into this funnel of claymores.”

“If we don’t need them, we pull them out when we move out,” Ryland ordered. “Ground anything you don’t need so we can move fast and quiet. Unless anyone has any questions, we leave in thirty minutes. Over watch, you leave now.”

Sam and Ryland and the rest of the team made their way through the tangled vines and tall fronds to the creek.

“Over watch in position,” Kadan reported.

“We’re at staging point in the creek,” Ryland answered. “We’re splitting up here. Sam and I will slip up on them using the water for concealment.”

Tucker, Kyle, and Gator melted into the jungle silently.

“In support position,” Tucker announced first.

Kyle and Gator echoed him in seconds.

“Heads up,” Nico said. “They are accompanied by twenty armed men. All have rifles and sidearms. I see no packs, no other equipment.”

“We copy,” Ryland said.

“Copy twenty,” Tucker said.

“All right, they set up right where we wanted them to. We are moving out. Sam, let’s get this done.”

They both slipped into the water, wading downstream, going into the deep, faster-moving stream, until they were fully immersed.

Ryland came up out of the water just at Ekabela’s feet. He rose fast, a dark ghost, covered in black paint and dripping water as he caught the man in a tight grip, knife to his throat. He grinned savagely at the CIA operative who had orchestrated the double cross.

“I’m here for the package,” he said, keeping his voice pitched low.

Ekabela had barely caught a glimpse of the dark shadow before his head was jerked backward, putting him off balance and exposing his throat to the very large, sharp blade sitting on his skin. Breathing, swallowing, any movement at all would result in the blade drawing blood.

The man in jeans and a light sports jacket raised his hand as if he could ward Ryland off. “Whoa, soldier. Stand down. I was supposed to meet you upriver and guide you here.”

Ryland stayed perfectly still, letting his cold gray eyes say it all for him.

“I’m Duncan Forbes,” the man from the CIA tried again. “Ekabela has the package for you. There’s no problem whatsoever. Just put down the knife and we’ll discuss this. We were told Sam Johnson would be picking it up. You’re clearly not Sam.”

“I am,” Sam whispered from behind Forbes. “Don’t move, sir. I wouldn’t want to accidentally shove this knife through your kidney.”

Forbes felt the tip of the blade stinging through his clothing. “There’s no need for this.”

“Just taking care, sir,” Sam said. “We wouldn’t want anything to go wrong like it did the last time one of us came into contact with an Ekabela. Give me the package and we’ll complete the rest of the mission quietly. No one will know we were ever here.”

“Your orders were to wait for me to guide Sam Johnson, and only Sam Johnson, to the rendezvous location,” Duncan hissed. “You can’t treat an important ally like this. I’ll have you two brought up on charges. Put down your weapons. That’s an order. Shit, you’ve messed up everything.”

“Sorry, sir,” Sam said. “I take orders from him.” He brought his free hand sweeping past Forbes to indicate Ryland. “Give me the package. When it’s secure, we’ll go our way.”

Forbes jumped a little, his eyes following the hand that pointed to the man holding Ekabela so still.

In the absolute silence of the jungle, the constant drone of cicadas and crickets returned full force. Sam felt exposed, his back to the creek, knowing Ekabela’s men were ready to cut them down the moment Ekabela was released from Ryland’s grip. He could feel them, more, smell their sweaty bodies as they crept into position, having been forced to shift to better protect their leader.

Ekabela was sweating and slippery, his eyes conveying both outrage and fear. He kept looking out to the jungle, trying to convey silently to his men to stay back. Forbes slowly nodded his head. Ekabela’s hand crept toward his jacket.

“Be very careful,” Ryland advised. “You bring your hand out of that jacket with anything but the package, you’ll be the first to die.”

Ekabela let out his breath in a kind of angry rush, but his hand was very steady as he reached into his coat and withdrew a small, brown paper-wrapped object. He slowly extended his palm. The package was small, no bigger than five inches in length.

“Please take that, Mr. Forbes, but be very careful,” Sam advised. “You don’t want to reach for a weapon and blow it at this stage of the game. That will get you both killed.”

Duncan Forbes’s face twisted into a mask of anger. He stepped forward and took the package from Ekebela. “Now what?”

“Open it and make certain it’s what it’s supposed to be,” Sam instructed. He had stepped forward with Forbes as the man moved, knife tip still pressed tight against his kidney.

Forbes didn’t dare turn around, or look over his shoulder; instead he glared hard at Ryland. “This is absolutely preposterous. Both of you will be court-martialed for this.”

“Do what you have to do, sir. We’re just following orders.” Sam’s voice came from behind him, low, close to his ear, and the blade never so much as trembled or moved from Forbes’s kidney. “But you open that package now.”

Swearing, Duncan tore open the brown paper. Sam could see a large chunk of what looked like an uncut diamond. It was quite large and thick, maybe three inches in diameter. Keeping the knife pressed close to Duncan’s kidney, he held out his palm. Duncan dropped the half-opened paper with the diamond into Sam’s hand. He closed his fist around it and slid it inside his jacket.

Package secure, sir. He used telepathy.

Ryland gave the smallest of nods.

Sam stepped even closer to Duncan Forbes. “Do you have a vehicle close, sir?” he whispered.

Forbes nodded.

“I suggest you run to it and get the hell out of here fast. This is going to get ugly.” That was all the warning Forbes was going to get. Sam released Duncan and slowly backed away.

Ryland drove his knife into the base of Ekabela’s skull, severing the spine and killing him instantly. He held the body upright for an instant, his gaze drilling into Forbes.

“Geez. Oh, God.” Duncan backed away from him, turning white under his skin, sweat beading on his forehead. “You have no idea what you’ve done.”

Ryland’s eyes met Sam’s. Sam was very aware of the jungle around him, as if the world was still right, the sounds of the jungle, the constant shifting above their heads, the continual drone of the cicadas, the calls of the frogs, a cry of a monkey. His heart thundered in his ears.

Ryland let Ekabela’s body fall to the ground, and just as if he’d triggered a bomb, the world erupted into hell around them. Duncan Forbes turned and ran for his life. Bullets tore bark off trees and vines, hissing through the air and spitting bark and splinters at them. Ryland and Sam both fired an entire magazine on full automatic, bullets spraying the jungle, driving the soldiers away from them.

Tucker, Kyle, and Gator had all gone to one knee and began to eliminate preselected targets. Simultaneously, Nico, Kadan, and Jonas on the hill in the over watch did the same. Smoke and red-hot streaks sizzled through the roar and shock of the guns, accompanied by high-pitched screams and explosions. Rock and wood chips rained down. Dirt flew around them as shrapnel hit everywhere.

Sam could tell how close the bullets were by the various sounds they made. The snapping sound was ominous, three feet or closer. The scent of cordite from the gunpowder grew strong. The distinctive smell of burned composition “B” from the grenades was heavy in the air.

Reloading. Bounding. Ryland called out telepathically to the others indicating he and Sam were moving and someone had to cover their targets.

Sam and Ryland retreated five meters, reloading as they ran. At five meters they both went down to one knee to place covering fire-rapidly aimed shots-at the swarming army of angry soldiers, giving the other two teams a chance to pull back. Once in line, they naturally became two teams and began to alternate covering fire.

The fighting was intense, an explosion of violence, and Sam just held on to one thing. He would go home to Azami. He was not buying it out here in the jungle.

Reloading. Bounding. The words were repeated often as one team would retreat toward their destination while the other provided cover.

The ragtag army didn’t seem to have leadership, following in anger more than with any strategy. Clearly they felt they were a superior force, but they were scattered, not as well trained as the rebels Ekabela had had months earlier.

All clear of the danger range? Ryland asked as they continued moving into the trap, drawing the rebels into the funnel.

All members of both teams had to be a good twenty-five meters away from the first of the claymores.

Clear, the men responded one by one, using the telepathic link Ryland formed.

“Claymore,” Kadan yelled as he detonated the first two antipersonnel mines.

Simultaneously Jonas pulled the igniter rings. The claymores had a range of fifty yards. Anyone inside that sixty degree horizontal fan was going to die or wish they were dead. As the claymores went off, the team hightailed it out of the war zone, back toward the hide.

Moving fast in their standard formation, cover and run, they made it past their second defense, the next line of claymores. Any combatants following would get caught in the next set of mines, and aside from taking out most of the rebels Ekabela had recruited, another devastating blow definitely would take the fight out of most that were left.

At the hide, Team One recovered gear while Team Two stayed on guard. They switched, working fast in silence while Team Two retrieved the rest of their gear.

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.”