Page 42 of Viral Justice

He hunched over a little, almost as if he were praying. “Then, another extremist group or the relatives of the displaced might retake the village. They perform the same atrocities as the first extremists in revenge or retribution.”

“A vicious cycle,” Stone said in a tone that sounded tired already, even to herself.

“One that doesn’t end quickly or well.” Max shook his head. “We’re going into a volatile environment. The aid group workers are in almost as much danger as we are, but the American military is everyone’s preferred target, so be cautious.”

He pointed at a duffel bag attached to the fuselage of the helicopter. “There are some poncho-like coats that are common in this part of the world in the winter. Where we’re going gets pretty cold at night, so no one is going to think twice if they see you wearing one. There’re also some scarves to camouflage your helmets and face masks.”

He made eye contact with Ali. “Do you want to go in wearing female or male clothing?”

“I’d rather not advertise I’m a woman.”

“Fair enough.” He glanced at the two male soldiers to include them. “Who speaks Arabic or Dari?”

He put his own hand up. Ali put up hers, so did Bull, and Tom.

“Excellent. One last thing. We’re landing a couple of miles away from the village and walking in. Getting dropped off by an American military helicopter would be enlarging the target that’s already on our backs.”

“Already?” Bull asked.

“We’re outsiders, so by definition, we’re suspect.”

“Of what?” Tom asked.

Max shrugged. “Everything.”

Chapter Ten

The helicopter hoveredonly long enough for the four of them to grab all the equipment bags before it took off as rapidly as it had descended.

Everyone had to carry their personal pack and weapons in addition to one duffel bag. Max worried that Ali would be overloaded, but she made no complaint as she hoisted the duffel she’d grabbed over her shoulder.

The Green Berets and Ali had their MK 16s strapped on under their ponchos, partially hiding them from sight, but still easily accessible.

Max didn’t carry one. He had two weapons, besides his brain. A 9mm Beretta and a knife he kept strapped to his right calf under his clothes. It was one of those survival knives that had a hollow hilt filled with a flint, wire and fishhook. He couldn’t fight his way out of a cardboard box with it, but having the minimal survival gear attached to his body always gave him an extra degree of confidence.

They’d been dropped off next to a rutted road. The terrain was rocky, and with the temperature only a few degrees above freezing, the only vegetation around was winter brown.

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