Page 8 of A Very Happy Thanksgiving
“We’re wasting time here.”
Storm got to her feet. “I’ll prepare a flight plan.”
Priest folded his arms. “Unless you women are going to take every load-out bag we have, we should at least discuss an outline strategy.”
“I mean, we can probably leave the snowshoes behind.”
“I promise you Emmy Black isn’t throwing bags randomly into an airplane hold. Dusk, I’m not brave or stupid enough to suggest you let the others handle this, and since an American citizen has been abducted, this does technically fall under our remit, but we can’t start a war on foreign soil. Demelza pulled strings and got the Choir assigned to the job in whatever capacity we might be needed, but you have to keep your head.”
“The only people in danger of losing their heads are the kidnappers,” I assured him.
Now that the initial shock was wearing off, I realised Priest was right, not that I’d ever admit it out loud. We did need to plan. Marc had been snatched from the beach, and we didn’t even know which direction he’d been taken. Was he still on Malati? Or had he been transported to one of the thousands of other islands that made up the Indonesian archipelago? And why had he been abducted? Was this a simple kidnapping for ransom, or something more political?
“We need Echo.” She was the intel queen. “Is this going to be an official operation, or are we going in undercover?”
If we posed as tourists, we wouldn’t be able to throw a ton of firepower onto the jet. We’d need bathing suits and scuba equipment, not breaching charges and BDUs.
“We’re waiting for word on that. Kopassus might decide they can handle the situation themselves.”
“Oh hell.”
Thanks to another round of alleged human rights abuses, the US—along with a number of other countries—was currently declining to take part in any joint training exercises with the Indonesian special forces. That included Kopassus, Kopaska, and Kopasgat—ground, sea, and air. And because we didn’t work with them, we had little knowledge of how they operated and even less influence over them.
“You think they’ll make our lives difficult?” Tulsa asked. “I mean, more difficult.”
“Blackwood has connections there. Give Black an hour.”
Black was Emmy’s husband, a giant of a man who rarely spoke and never smiled. For years, Dice had held him responsible for her father’s death, although she’d found out more recently that she hadn’t known the whole truth growing up. She still didn’t like him, but she no longer spent evenings plotting his murder.
My eyes rolled all of their own accord. “Blackwood still works with Kopassus?”
“You ever hear the phrase ‘keep your friends close and your enemies closer’?”
“Of course I have.”
I socialised regularly with the team from Blackwood’s Vegas office, and I even liked some of them. Plus I’d worked with them on occasion, but none of that meant I was going to stand back and smile politely while Emmy Black flirted with my ex.
“Rumour says Emmy went in with a team, the commander laughed because half of them were women, and his men took a simulated bloodbath.”
Tulsa laughed, and I glared at her.
“What?” she asked. “Emmy isn’t that bad.”
“She sold out when she went into the private sector.”
“Emmy didn’t sell out,” Priest said. “She’s never been in the military, and she wasn’t even a US citizen when she joined Blackwood.”
“Oh, so that makes it better?”
“Give her a chance.”
“Why? She spends half her time partying.”
“You gave up a lot to serve the United States, and that’s admirable, but just because Emmy chose a different route doesn’t make her any less dedicated. Or any less deadly.”
Jez sucked in a breath. “Ouch.”
“She also cheats on her husband, doesn’t value long-held allegiances, disrespects the chain of command, horse-trades with the Russians, dresses like she stepped off the runway, and I heard a rumour she kicked the president in the balls. How the hell does she get away with that shit?”
