Page 19 of Red Line

T-Rex pointed again to the map. “Jump here. Vehicle here. Poole here. Exfil here. Now, we’re on an inflatable in the Mediterranean, and the sun is inching over the horizon if everything goes beautifully.”

“Once we have Poole in hand,” Ty said. “We have a bit more flexibility with our schedule. The goal is to get out of thecountry without anyone being the wiser. No need to push to get out before the fishermen are on their boats.”

Nomad was scanning the map on his tablet. “The topography looks good. We can find a quiet hole to dig into and lay low until nightfall the second night.”

“Agreed,” T-Rex said. “So Bravo, get yourself geared for that eventuality – food, water, warmth, shelter, and fishing gear just in case someone motors up with questions. And assume that Alpha will need rations when we reach you. Think about a cover story. Let’s pick our teams.”

“International waters, I’m not answering anyone’s questions,” Nitro said. “And I call raft duty. I hate HAHO.”

“So we load onto the inflatable, and we’re out in the Mediterranean, then what?” Havoc asked. “And I’ll take the ground team.” Deep, dark waters weren’t his thing, Havoc had told Nomad, and that was the reason he didn’t go the Navy SEAL route for special ops.

“I’ll take Bravo,” Jeopardy said.

Nomad hadn’t weighed in on his preference because he was “new guy,” and he’d take whatever role needed filling.

T-Rex gave him a nod. “Okay, once we’re loaded onto the raft, Nitro will navigate to a given GPS coordinate. Our sub will pop up, we’ll board, collapse the raft, and shove it down the hole. Poole will go straight to the brig, and the sub will descend until someone from the American base rows out and picks us up to take us back to Türkiye. We need to get our documents stamped. For now, we’ll leave our papers here with the embassy. We’re going in naked. No papers. No weapons. Our cover is hungry, lost hikers.”

“Copy,” they said in unison.

T-Rex turned his computer screen back toward him. “Now, let’s fill in the missing pieces. We need to get our storystraight and get it into the right hands so, if needed, they can rally to our side in whatever capacity they can.”

“You don’t think they’ll be told to disavow?” Nomad asked.

T-Rex pressed his lips together and dipped his head. “Always a possibility. But it might work in our favor if we’re lost hikers and concerned friends had let area embassies know we’d lost touch. Right?” His gaze slid around the table. “You’re using your alias names if it comes to a confrontation. As usual, gentlemen, we won’t use our call signs when others are within earshot.”

“Our jobs?” Havoc asked.

“We’ll make it easy,” T-Rex said. “We’re all digital nomads. We settle into a place for a month or so, working remotely, using the freedom of being untethered from a desk to see the world. So, there are no permanent addresses in the U.S. Our paychecks come from individual contractors, and the projects are always changing. In our individual capacities, we accept contracts that need marketing and data analysis. We fulfill that contract, wash, and repeat. Same gig we used when we were in Kenya. Right now, everyone in the group is between contracts since we wanted to see the desert and do some hiking and there’s no connectivity.”

“Copy,” the group said.

“That was easy enough,” Havoc’s fingers busily typed the information into his report.

“Looking at the map,” Nomad fixed his attention on his tablet, “if we’re lost hikers who are found near our landing zone, that’s a six-day hike from somewhere with a government that might support our story. Let’s say we were last at Mount of the Beatitudes. How’d we survive lost in the desert for six days? How’d we get hold of a vehicle?”

Nitro pushed his chair back, swinging his heels up onto the table. “Too bad we don’t have a dead body.”

“What?” Havoc laughed.

“If we had a body, we could say, ‘Hey, we found this guy near the car, and we thought we should deliver the body to the authorities, so we drove him in.’”

Jeopardy balled up a piece of paper and tossed it at Nitro’s head. “Nomad’s the only one who’s supposed to be suffering from sleep deprivation. That’s the stupidest damned suggestion I’ve ever heard. ‘Hey, we’re digital nomads with no addresses, no working phone, no money, no paperwork, we’re driving a car that doesn’t belong to us with the lights off and night vision strapped to our heads, and oh, here’s a dead body. You’re welcome.’”

“Wouldn’t have to be dead. They could just be sick,” Nitro shrugged. “We find someone, roofie them.”

“Simple is best,” Ty said from over near Rory. “We came upon the car and looked around for the owner. Didn’t find him. Keys were in the ignition. The car wasn’t working. Nomad went under the hood, found a loose spark plug, tightened it down, and we thought we’d drive into civilization, hand it over to the police, and contact a U.S. embassy. But we’re not sure where we are. We’re not even sure of what country we’re in. Is this Jordan?”

“That’ll only work until we get to the first city and an opportunity to turn it in. Then what?” Nomad asked. “With that background story, we wouldn’t have Syrian currency to buy or rent a vehicle. And I’m assuming we have no money and no papers because we were robbed along the way, right?”

“Right,” T-Rex said.

“We didn’t check the license plates to tell us where we were?” Nomad asked.

Jeopardy shook his head. “We’re Americans. Could we understand a Syrian license plate?”

“We don’t get stopped,” Havoc said. “We’re driving at night with night vision. We’ll see them before they see us. And we’re not driving through any cities, right?”

“Spark plugs,” T-Rex said. “Not bad. I like that. And yes, we’re heading to the coast, taking the scenic route along rural roads. Like Nomad pointed out, there are hills to disappear into.”

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