Page 37 of Enemy of My Enemy
Adam could only imagine the shitshow of analysis that had descended on the NSA and CIA that afternoon. A real-world immediate action and an urgent request from the White House. People would have been running around like they were on fire.
“One analyst spotted a plane landing in the Jilf al Kabir plateau inside Libya, about 200 miles south of Al-Jawf, near the border of Egypt and Sudan.”
“In the Sahara?” Fuck. Of course, it would be there. One of the worst places on the planet.
“Looks like it touched down in one of the wadis. One of the dry riverbe—”
“I know what a wadi is.”
Reichenbach waited a moment, but kept going when Adam stayed silent.“Later satellite overflights don’t show the plane anymore, but they also don’t show any marks that indicate it took off from the area.”
“So they camouflaged it.”
“It’d be difficult to build a base there, but not impossible. They could be setting up shop, or could be moving into Sudan. Both Libya and Sudan are lawless enough that he could hide out under the radar. Unfortunately, the location is out of range of any of our drone bases.”
Out of the whole planet, going back to the Middle East was the last place Adam wanted to go. He squeezed his eyes shut. “What about the other plane? You only found one?” Maybe he could send part of his team after the Libyan plane. He could track the second plane.
“We’re still searching for it.”
Of course. Fuck.
Cooper hung his head, listening.“We need to send you and your team over there.”Reichenbach hesitated.“You spent some time in the region. You know North Africa and the Middle East pretty well. Do you have any insight into an insertion point?”
He should never have fucking accepted this mission. Adam groaned under his breath and tried to block the memories that clamored for his attention. Late nights, sweat-slick bodies, and conspiring together.Conspiracy,his conscience whispered.You’d be thrown in jail if anyone ever found out. Stripped of your command. Of your commission.
Enough.
“Yeah. We should insert at the Kharga Oasis in southern Egypt. There’s a track running through there. TheDarb el-Arba. The old forty-day road. It’s a trading caravan that’s still used by Bedouins. It will go right through that part of Libya.” He kicked at a bullet casing on the concrete floor in the destroyed communication room. “We’ll need trucks. And camels. And we’ll have to go in clean. No uniforms, nothing that can tie us back to the US.” That part of the desert was deadly, and not just because of the heat or the utter desolation of the place.
And it held way too many memories.
Another long pause over the line.“I’m impressed, Lieutenant,”Reichenbach finally said. “And I agree. We can’t have your men tied back to the US government. We’re sending a team down with sanitized equipment for desert operations. And cash. They’ll fuel up in Sao Paolo and then pick you up and take you to Egypt. Another team will stay behind and deal with the base in Paraguay.”
Goddamn it. “Yes, sir.”
“I’ll send you all the intel we have on the area, and anything that comes through. And… try to get some rest. The plane will be there just before dawn.”
“Yes, sir.” Adam pushed himself up from the slump he’d fallen into, hunching over a destroyed comms console and his laptop. “I’ll have my operational plan to you before we take off.”
“Good luck.”
The sat phone clicked as Reichenbach cut the line. Exhaling, Adam leaned forward, resting his forehead on the receiver.
Back to Africa. Back to the Middle East. Back to the Kharga Oasis and theDarb el-Arba, even. His life was a cosmic joke. Someone, somewhere, must love to torture him. He squeezed his eyes shut as the memories tried to rise again.
Why couldn’t he gethissmile out of his mind? Why was it alwayshim, every moment of every day?
Enough. He had to focus. He had a mission to plan, men to brief, and memories to forget.
* * *
Chapter 12
White House
When Saturday arrived,Ethan felt like he’d been run down by a train and beaten into the tracks. One week as first gentleman and he was ready to hibernate until spring truly began. He’d thought being detail lead had been tough. Politics had nothing on that. How did Jack do it all?
They slept in, Ethan staying nearly comatose well into the morning. Their day started slow and sensual, rocking together, rolling in the covers and trading long kisses interspersed with sloppy blowjobs and stroking each other’s bodies. It was almost ten when they finally got out of bed and shuffled to the kitchen for coffee, shared out of one cup while they traded kisses and sat in the West Sitting Hall, watching another light snowstorm descend over DC. Jack perched on Ethan’s lap, their hair sticking up every which way and kiss bruises staining their collarbones.
