Page 15 of Soul on Fire
The world hadn’t looked at him like he was second class in a long time.
He felt it now like a slap, like the crack of a whip against his soul. Fuck, hefeltit, shockwaves radiating from the decision to hands-off thesituationin the Congo, as if sayingsituationcould cover up what was about to happen. This was white flight.Turn and look away. It’s just Africa. It’s just blacks. What can you expect from them?
His pulse rose, jackhammered through his body and throbbed behind his eyes until he saw stars.
He kept his mouth shut.
Kline continued with the briefing, his gaze sliding away from Elliot. “Complicating matters, if you haven’t noticed, the Congo is the dead center of Africa and Goma is damn far from any ocean. The city is in the middle of the Rwenzori Mountains and at the base of the Nyiragongo Volcano. The city itself is a mile above sea level. We can fly in and out, but we’re going to have to do it quietly. We’re operating without host country authorization, so we’re going in covert.”
Elliot breathed in deeply.
“Which is where Lieutenant Davis and his team come in. Commander Paulson, I’d like you to run down your NEO plan. Davis, I want your tactical suggestions. You and your team will be on the ground leading the NEO. I want your input so this goes as smoothly as it can. Washington is breathing down our necks on this one.”
Commander Paulson ran down his NEO, his planned helo insertion and extraction points, communications protocols, estimated enemy capabilities. “We don’t expect any combat operations from ADF forces on the ground during the extraction. Not if they stay in the jungle, sir.”
“That’s a bigif, Commander.” Elliot spun the infrared image on the digital display, the clusters and lines of rebels waiting in the forest to the north. “We have no idea what they’re waiting for, or when they’re planning on striking.”
“Intel suggests they’re not in position to strike. Imagery shows they’ve formed a cordon north of Goma, Sake, and the refugee camp, but they have no defensive fighting positions established.”
“Oh, is that what the imagery says?” Elliot snapped. “It’s a jungle, Commander. They don’t need to dig in. There’s a million opportunities for cover and concealment on the ground.”
Commander Paulson’s eyes flashed.
“What are their armaments? What weapons does the ADF possess?”
“Lieutenant, the ADF is holding position in the jungle north of the city and the adjacent refugee camp, and your missiononlycalls for an insertion and extraction from Goma—”
“Let me break this down Barney style for you: you ever eaten a shit sandwich, Commander?”
“That’senough!” Kline barked. “Lieutenant, the intel shop is certain the ADF are holding position. Their assessment aligns with CIA’s. Why they’re holding position, we don’t know. To get to Goma, they’ll have to move on the UN base outside Sake, and the refugee camp is between the rebels and the UN. Picking a fight with the UN is not something the ADF is going to start on a whim. There are no present indications ADF forces are moving on Sake, the UN base, or the refugees within the next seventy-two hours.”
“I still want to know their armaments and their capabilities.”
Commander Paulson ran it down, the classic insurgent weapons complement: AK-47s and technicals, RPGs, mortars and more. And machetes. Lots of machetes. Elliot listened and shook his head.
“We have to get the CIA officers out. Do you have suggestions for the NEO, Lieutenant?” Captain Watkins asked. What had been frosty was now ice-cold.
He didn’t have time to care about how surface officers felt about his team or his operations. He had to keep his men safe.
“I have lots of suggestions. First, we need to change your L-Z. You want this to be covert, we can’t land anywhere near the city. Goma isn’t a Medieval Times town with people who have never seen a chopper before. There’s a million people living there and they’re not tribal savages. Give them some respect. You fly a helo anywhere near the city and they’ll be all over it.”
“Where do you suggest we insert?”
“Here.” He spun the map and zoomed in on the Rwandan side of the border. “This field is an old airport they decommissioned because the runway wasn’t safe for fixed wing birds. They moved the airport to Gisenyi. This airport is abandoned now, and that’s sugarcane growing on the edges.” He tilted the image, rotating the perspective. “Judging the angle of the shadows, that sugarcane is seven feet tall.”
“That’s not tall enough to hide a chopper.”
“Blacked out at night, the bird on deck for ten seconds while my team gets out? It’s enough.”
Commander Paulson looked to Kline. Kline nodded. “Make the change.”
“I need to know all comms packages we have with CIA’s station on the ground. Has anyone been in contact with them or are we getting everything through Washington? I need radio link ups with them, two-way, real-time.”
“I already asked the agency,” Kline said. “They’re resistant. This is a deep cover station, no diplomatic cover, no official presence in the country. They don’t want to risk being blown.”
“Non-negotiable. I’m not walking in blind. Radio link ups or it’s a no-go.” Elliot shook his head. “And why are they there in deep cover if the first thing they do when trouble strikes is beg for an evac?”
“Their mission is classified.” Kline’s eyebrows rose. “Anything else to add, Lieutenant?”
