Page 84 of American Assassin (Mitch Rapp 1)

"You'd have to ask Stan that question. I was still in the Marine Corps when they blew our barracks up." Ridley pointed to the south. "Right over there. I showed up in '88. That was when we started rotating sniper teams through here. They loved it. In fact this is where the D Boys battle-tested the first Barrett .50 cal. He shot a guy just over seven thousand feet away."

"That's more than a mile."

"One-point-three and some change." Hurley looked off toward the Green Line. "Strange breed, those snipers. Pretty quiet lot ... kept to themselves for the most part, but that night they got shitfaced and naked. I guess seven thousand feet is a pretty rare club. At any rate I think we've been up here since '85."

"I thought we pulled out," Rapp said.

"Langley never pulls out ... or at least rarely. Shit, this little outpost is what stopped this thing from being a complete disaster. We knew everything Damascus was up to. We helped blow up supply convoys, target the occasional asshole who wandered too far away from his home turf. We even taught these guys how to use indirect fire and the other side knew we were here, too. That's why they sent those snipers after us."

"So this is where you're based?" Rapp asked, thinking it didn't make a lot of sense.

"No." Ridley shook his head. "Not for over a year. Things are too quiet around here now."

"So what exactly do you do for Langley?"

"I'm kind of here and there. I guess you could call me a floater."

Rapp had no idea what that meant and got the distinct impression that Ridley wasn't going to enlighten him any further. Rapp let out a yawn. His nights and days were upside-down. After their mad dash from the apartment, Ridley had filled in some of the blanks. The problem was that beyond the obvious fact that Hurley and Richards had been picked up, Ridley had very few details. Rapp had pressed him hard, wanting to know what Langley was doing to find them. Ridley had to admit not much of anything. Langley was sending a small six-man SOG team, and they were actively trying to collect any intel that would aid in a rescue.

Ridley worked his sources well past midnight, but every single one of them seemed to have conflicting information. Finally at 4:00 A.M. he sent Rapp to bed and told him to get some rest. He assured Rapp he'd been through more than a few of these abductions, and they tended to progress slowly, especially for the first few days. Rapp had a hard time falling asleep. He couldn't stop himself from imagining what Hurley and Richards were going through. As part of his training, he'd spent two days tied to a chair. Guys would come in randomly and smack him around. They even gave him some low-voltage shocks from a small engine battery. There was nothing remotely enjoyable about the experience, and Hurley had cautioned them that it paled in comparison to what they would go through at the hands of a sadist or a skilled interrogator. Finally, around sunrise, he had dozed off.

"Listen, I know what you're going through."

Rapp gave him a sideways glance. Ridley was a few inches shorter and a decade or so older. Rapp couldn't quite figure out if he was an optimist or a pessimist. He seemed to kind of float back and forth between the two.

"I've known Stan for six years. I'd do anything to try to save the guy. But we need to get some good intel before we can even consider lifting a finger."

Back in training, if someone had asked him to lay down his life to save Stan Hurley, he would have laughed at him, but now he wasn't so sure. "Any idea where they are?"

Ridley pointed east. "The other side of the big ugly scar. Indian country."

"You ever go over there?"

Ridley gave him a nervous laugh. "I try not to."

"So you've been?"

"Occasionally. It's nowhere near as bad as it was back when the shit was really flying." He searched Rapp's face, wondering what he was thinking. "It's still a nasty place for a stranger like you, kid."

Rapp nodded even though he really wasn't listening. "So it wouldn't be such a good idea to wander over there and start asking questions."

"That would be about the dumbest thing you could do, kid." Ridley could see the upstart wasn't listening to him. He reached out and grabbed his arm. "I've been to that little lake house down in southern Virginia. I've seen the way Stan takes badasses and grinds them up and spits out little pussies, so I'm guessing if you made it through his selection process you've got some serious skills. Am I right?"

Rapp looked at Ridley's grip until he released his arm. "What's your point?"

"I don't care how good you are. Going over to Indian country on your own is a suicide mission. We'll end up looking for three of you instead of two."

"Well ... I'm not good at sitting around, so somebody better come up with a plan and come up with it quick."

The triple beep, beep, beep of a car horn caught their attention and they both looked to the base of the hill, where a three-car convoy had just pulled up to the roadblock.

"Finally," Ridley said.

"Who is it?"

"A local who knows more about this hellhole than anyone."

CHAPTER 55

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