Page 18 of Red Line

“Who the hell knows? Does that make his information less reliable? Absolutely not. Grey’s no cake eater. He was boots-on-the-ground and knows what we’re capable of accomplishing.More importantly, he knows what’s made-for-tv bullshit—bending time and eating bullets like potato chips.”

“Potato chips. Man,” Havoc rubbed a hand over his lips, “I could go for some salt and crunch. Anyone see a vending machine on the way in here?”

“I’ve got a bag of BBQ, but it’s gonna be chip crumbs by now.” Nomad dragged his backpack from between his feet and unclasped the top.

“I’ll take it. Thanks,” Havoc said. “You’re going to hear Color Code a lot working with Echo. You’ll know you’re working with one of them because the males are Johns. The females are Johnnas. Then, each has a color as their last name. Ty over there met his girl when Johnna White decided to play matchmaker.”

“Careful, brother. We don’t talk about my girl on duty or in the field.”

Nomad snagged the chips from the top of his kit and handed them out. “Color Code is CIA?”

“Affirmative.” Havoc accepted the bag. “I bet Grey specifically picked Echo to go in there and grab Poole. Since he owes us big time, that intel will be as squeaky clean as possible. That guy was part of the craziest mission I’ve ever been on. Sometimes, I think it was a fever dream that stuck with me because it was so damned vivid.”

“It was real, brother,” Ty said as he pressed the buttons to slowly increase Rory’s pace. “That, or the whole team was having the same hallucination.”

Laughter went up, punctuated with celebratory high-fives.

T-Rex returned to the group and stood at the top of the table. “Gentlemen, focus in.”

“I’ll tell you later,” Nitro said. “You’ll want to hear this.”

T-Rex opened his laptop, then turned the screen to show the men a topographical map that included Syria, Lebanon, andthe Mediterranean out as far as Cyprus. There were four red Xs: three on land and one over the sea. “Here we go with the broad strokes of the mission, suggested by Grey in the intelligence packet. Elements are moving into place to support this scenario. If we fundamentally disagree, we need to get that to JSOC stat. But I think it’s a solid plan.”

T-Rex stood even taller than Nomad’s six-foot-six frame. Like Nomad, T-Rex’s mere presence was intimidating and was often all that was needed to control a situation. Their stature could also make them uncomfortably easy to spot as they moved through a population where the average male came up to chest level. Like T-Rex, Nomad had learned to hug the walls, so his height wasn’t as apparent.

“We’re going to divide into two groups, Alpha and Bravo,” T. Rex said. “Alpha is going to head out on the jump plane, parachuting to this LZ.” He tapped the first X that signified their landing zone. “It’ll be a HAHO.” His gaze moved to his men then back to the map. “The U.S. has an asset in the area moving an SUV to the X. It should be gassed and ready.” T-Rex drew his finger along a roadway toward the second X. “Driving lights out, using night vision, it’s about an hour to this farmhouse. The neighbors are far enough away that they won’t be looking out the windows at us. If the intelligence is correct, that’s where Poole will be sleeping tonight. If he’s not there,” T-Rex continued, “we head to our exfil site. There’s nothing more for us to do. If he’s there, we package him up and drive to the coast.”

“Team Bravo?” Ty asked.

“They’ll helicopter out and drop into the sea with an inflatable. Bravo holds over the horizon for a signal. They motor in and do a pickup. The whole team, along with Poole, move out to this last X in international waters for a Navy pickup. Easy day.” His gaze swept the team. “Let’s talk this through.”

“How many boots on the ground?” Ty asked.

“Four Alpha. Two Bravo. You and Rory will be Alpha. We’ll need Rory to surveil the house,” T-Rex said.

“This guy, Poole, he slunk over the border?” Nomad asked. “Or did he move through customs? I want to know if the authorities know he exists. Could they be keeping eyes on him?”

“They found Poole’s papers on base,” T-Rex said. “The field officer believes that he either went over a porous section of the border or paid to get waved through and headed right into the arms of his host family.”

“I hear a lot of speculative language,” Ty said. “They handed us a GPS coordinate. Did anyone get eyes on this guy? I’m not loving the idea of getting lured into Syria. We’ve dealt with worm-on-a-hook intelligence before, and we’re going in without support.”

T-Rex posted his hands on his hips. “You know the drill. Intelligence does its best. If they ran this to the Situation Room, there’s a reason. That’s not for us to decide. We get an order, we make a plan, and execute.”

“Impressive,” Nomad was reading the report on his tablet. “Not only do they have a GPS coordinate, but it was fast. Poole’s still within twenty-four hours of his R&R window shutting.”

“Somebody’s on the ball,” Havoc reached for a chip. “I appreciate the hell out of them.”

“Amen to that, brother,” Jeopardy said without lifting his eyes from the intelligence report.

“All right. Alpha, we’re going to HAHO into the desert just south of the lake. Because of time constraints, you will pretty please, with sugar and cream on it, not take the scenic route that requires a sand jog to what should have been the LZ.” T-Rex tapped the X. “Here, we pull off our jump gear and pile up everything that doesn’t match the cover story, pull camo netting over the top, fling some sand around the edges to keep it down,and head to the second X. We’ll mark the spot on GPS. If there’s no activity around the area and nobody’s nose goes up to sniff the air, they may be able to send a team of our soldiers from the south to go pick up the equipment and make sure we haven’t left any tracks for some curious shepherd to follow. We don’t know how the spook got hold of this, and I don’t want to put anyone’s cover in danger.” T-Rex slid his finger along the screen. “This is also where we’ll find our transportation.Shouldbe an SUV—a gift from an intelligence contract. If there’s no SUV, we may have to get creative,” T-Rex looked up. “I don’t care what that means.”

“Because there’ll be a lot of options lying around on the edge of the desert,” Jeopardy said dryly.

“Goat wrangling.” Nitro grinned. “It’s a thing. Just lift your feet up so they don’t drag.”

“Hell or high water,” T-Rex continued, “we get to the second GPS coordinates on your map before dawn. That’s where Sgt. Poole is going to lay his weary head. This being his last night in a known location, it’s our only opportunity to grab him. Like Watts said, this is not a swing and a miss. This is a pile-on. But—and please pay attention to the but—if he dies or his brain gets rattled to the point where he’ll be eating pudding and drooling on himself for the rest of his life, we won’t find out what information he passed on, and what plans are in the making. We need him to tell the nice interrogators the who, what, where, why, and how of an attack. Sgt Poole is treated with kid gloves.”

“Whole and healthy and ready to chat,” Ty said.

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