Page 35 of Red Line

“Different character to those two groups,” T-Rex said. “Color Code is more like you.”

“How so?” Nomad asked.

“Color Code is polished,” Havoc said. “A lot of their work involves conflict relics and the like. So we’re talking about brushing up against a population of people with money to burn. Working in that world, Color Code has to fit in. High society, fine wine, five different forks at their table setting, seven different glasses. I’d stick out like a sore thumb. With your background growing up in the embassies, you’d call it Wednesday dinner.”

“Interesting.” Nomad flipped onto his back and scooted down to pillow his head on his laced fingers, bending his knees and planting his feet. “And yet there she was in a rat hole hotel room on the Syrian border, dodging terrorist car bombers.”

“Yeah, I can’t tell you what all they do,” Havoc said. “But I can tell you that Grey is part of Echo legend.”

Nomad lifted his chin to get Havoc in his view. “I was promised this story.”

“Yup. Ready for some shit?” Havoc’s grin was wide.

“I’m ready for some shit.”

“We take off from an Iraqi FOB—” Havoc used the acronym for forward operating base. “And we’re dividing into two groups to jump onto helicopters – Blackhawk and a Little Bird. Ty, T-Rex, and I are on the Little Bird. Our pilot flies us over the border into Syria. Broad daylight. Why risk it? We got word that Grey was captured and, like Red, what’s between his ears cannot be pried loose under any circumstances. We save him or bless him with a triple tap, but the enemy would not get a chance to beat names and means out of him.”

“Where was he being held?”

“Prison.” T-Rex grinned.

“Prison ...” Nomad let the word drift off.

“Yup. fifth floor,” T-Rex said, “eleventh window from the south corner.”

“Keep going.”

“The pilot on the Blackhawk hangs back,” Havoc said. “The Little Bird—D-Day Rochambeau, a Night Stalker and—what was the co-pilot’s name?”

“Nick of Time,” T-Rex said.

“Yeah, Nick of Time. So D-Day flies her bird straight down the middle of Main Street.

“Broad daylight,” T-Rex said. “She has balls of steel.”

“Nick is trying to direct her,” Havoc said. “It’s hard to see with all the dust from the wash.”

“I can imagine.” Nomad actuallycouldn’timagine. That image was nuts.

“Someone came out of their shop,” T-Rex said, “and was under us shooting.”

“Where was D-Day trying to drop you?” Nomad asked.

“She wasn’t.” T-Rex skated a hand out to approximate the movement of the helicopter. “She flew us to his window.”

“The prison window?”

“Yup, fifth-floor eleventh window. She flew us right up like we were ordering a hamburger at the drive-through,” Havoc said. “We looked in the window and saw a guy. Nick holds up the photo for comparison and yells, ‘We’ve got him!’ It was Grey. We pushed a ladder out to make a bridge from the heli to the sill.”

“What?” Nomad barked a laugh.

“Swear on my grandfather’s grave,” Havoc held up a hand. “We stuck a ladder out the door and rested it on the window ledge. I was the lightest guy, so I went out. There’s backwash everywhere, filling my lungs, sandblasting my goggles. There’s a guy with a gun underneath me who fired his rounds, then loaded up and fired some more. Ty and T-Rex held down my legs because the windowsill was only a couple of inches wide. The ladder is rubbing and screeching against the rock. D-Day held us steady while I used the plasma cutter to slice through the bars. And I mean, one little twitch of her finger and we would have crashed and burned. There were buildings just feet away from her blades.”

“Shit.”

“So I’m through the bars, I broke the glass. Grey is standing there with the wildest look on his face. He had to think this was the acid trip to end all acid trips. I mean, who would believe that shit? I grabbed Grey, then Ty and T-Rex dragged both of us back onto the helicopter.”

“Easy day,” Nomad was still grinning. The adrenaline rush had to have been crazy.

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