Page 111 of Over the Edge

Finally, she moved forward again. He waited for her to join him. She hand signaled that one person had moved right to left. She flashed the number twelve with her fingers, then the number ten.

Their teenage kid had left building twelve and gone back home. Thank God.

He nodded and continued on, easing toward the tall wall looming before them. It was so damned tempting to dash over there and press up against it, using its bulk and deep shadows to hide in. But that was the one thing they couldn’t do. Quick movements drew the human eye like nothing else.

Slow and steady wins the day.

But it was nigh impossible to do with so much anxiety for Anna’s safety jumping around in his gut. Right. Because that was all worry and no other feelings for her burning a hole through his stomach wall. Nope. No other feelings at all. And certainly not love.

“Hang Five One formation,you are cleared for takeoff.”

The lead pilot, flying an Apache gunship, answered for all three birds. “Roger, Tower. Cleared for takeoff.”

Barrett Green, the pilot in the number two helicopter pulled back on the collective, and his armored Blackhawk, heavy with fuel, men, and ammunition for its door mounted gun, lifted off sluggishly. He babied the bird into the air, letting it gain altitude gradually. To his left, the other Blackhawk that made up the rest of the three-ship formation, did the same.

“Flying like a pig, ain’t she?” his co-pilot observed.

“She’ll be a lot lighter by the time we get on target. After take-off checklist, please.”

They ran the checklist quickly and climbed into the night. Once they cleared controlled airspace, the formation tightened up. He tucked in five hundred feet in trail and to the right of the Apache and abreast of the other Blackhawk in trail to the left.

“Hang 51, go dark,” the Apache driver transmitted on their secure frequency.

Barrett gang-banged off the exterior lights, leaving only the infrared lights illuminated. He pulled his night vision devices down over his helmet, and the instrument panel lit up in red before him.

Somewhere above and behind them, a pair of Predator attack drones was cruising, armed to the teeth with Hellfire air-to-ground missiles and programmed with the coordinates of their target.

“What’s the weather radar painting over the insertion point?” he asked the copilot. “That snow squall moved out, yet?”

“Tail end of it’s still over the compound. Hope it doesn’t leave behind fog. Gonna be a bitch to land this bird if that valley fills up with ice fog.”

He shook his head. “Can’t land in ice fog. Not at that altitude. Rotor blades would ice up. Hell, the engines would ice up. We’d pick up too much weight in ice and lose too much lift. We’d never be able to take off.”

“Good thing the Predators are along for the ride. If it’s fogged in when we get there, they can still blow it to smithereens.” The co-pilot grinned, the miniature cyalume sticks stuck in each side of his mouth between his gums and cheeks making his teeth glow bright green. “Should be a hell of a show.”

“A hell of a show, indeed.”

Trevor tossed a grapplinghook attached to a heavy-duty nylon climbing line over his head. It caught the far edge of the wall and bit in. He gave it a good yank. Ready to go. Anna did the same beside him and flashed him a thumbs up.

He went first, pulling himself and his gear up the rope hand over hand. He paused just below the top of the wall, peering over it cautiously. No movement. Throwing a foot up onto the wall, he slithered on top of it.

Lying on the wall, he undid the grappling hook and reversed it, dangling the rope inside the compound, now. From this angle, he saw a layer of light fog forming across the valley. As yet, it was too thin to impede visibility. Like the snow, some obscuration was good for him and Anna. But they needed the fog not to keep the helicopters from coming in.

As he eased his weight off the wall and started down the inside face of it, Anna’s foot landed silently on the top of the wall in front of his nose. Only seconds after he landed soundlessly inside the compound on deeply bent knees, she’d reversed her rope and landed silently beside him.

They moved out, weapons at the ready, gliding through the night at one with the dark as winter came to the valley.

Cal frowned sharplyas Jojo whispered, “I’ve got movement. Two tangos approaching the northeasternmost building in the compound.”

“What do you mean, tangoes?”

“Well, they’re not strolling around like guards. They’re sneaking around like thieves. And they’re carrying assault rifles.”

“Lemme see.” Cal took the spotter’s scope and searched the corner of the compound where Jojo had seen the pair moving. It took him a while to find them because whoever was down there was sneaky as hell.

The tangoes eased around the corner of the small building and momentarily out of the shadows.

“Sonofabitch,” he breathed. “That’s Trevor and Anna.”

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