“Helpful?” he suggested.
“Correct,” she said, nodding. “It happened less than half an hour ago.”
“What did?” he asked. “What happened?”
“The creatures, they came out of the cave. Colonel Reynolds, we’ve confirmed a mass attack on the village. We cannot be certain the numbers, but we know there was mass chaos. Lots of deaths.”
“How do you know this?” Reynolds asked.
“Our asset inside the village.”
Reynolds remembered, nodding his head. “What did he say?” If anything, the Marine knew one thing. Proper planning for such a mission was crucial. It might sound good to someone in an office ten thousand miles away, but without the proper INTEL, they were setting themselves up for disaster.
Elizabeth felt the same sentiment, but she had a job to do. God willing, she’d accomplish this mission, and wasn’t about to hesitate now. “Our asset sent a message through an old, yet secure line. It was urgent. Here, read this,” she said, picking up a paper and handing it his way.
Reynolds read the message. “What the hell?” he proclaimed.
“The village was under attack. Our source revealed this to be true. The catch is, Colonel, the Russians notified us minutes prior to our own source.”
“Wait, what?” Reynolds asked. “That doesn’t make sense. You mean they have a live feed?”
“I can’t say. They claim not to, and even our best technology has trouble anywhere near that valley. They won’t say how they know, but they know.”
“Could this be a setup? Could your asset be working for the Russians?” Reynolds asked. He was suspicious almost instantly.
“Negative, Colonel. The man works for us.”
“How then? The woman, perhaps?”
“Svetlana? No, that’s impossible. Besides, she’s monitored better than you think, and sleeping at the moment.”
“So how do they know?” he asked.
“They aren’t sharing, but that doesn’t matter now, does it?” she asked bluntly.
“I suppose not, unless it endangers our men.”
“The Russians are literally begging for help. Through back-channels of course, but still . . . it’s not their way, if you know what I mean.”
He nodded, saying, “I do. All right, so we go in. Any new estimate on the numbers of these . . . supposed things? Any deaths or injuries of the villagers?” he asked.
“They’re either dead or alive,” she responded. “Matters not to us. Our mission is the cave, not the village.”
“And you want the team to be mission ready in a few hours?”
“I want the team in the air in a few hours.”
Reynolds eyed her, looking to the clock on the wall, knowing the deadline was impossible. However, the Marine also knew something else. Elizabeth was serious, and this was her party. Reynolds nodded his head, accepting it. The logistics would be a nightmare, but he supposed the team could adapt. “Why now?” he asked. “Why not wait a few days? Watch and observe, attempt contact with our asset first?”
“The reason is this: For over two decades, those things have remained in that damn cave. We’ve seen a handful from time to time, long range, angled snapshots. High altitude, they use a new thermal reading. It’s not perfect, but it’s the best we can do. Again, we’ve been watching for years, as have the Russians. In the course of twenty-six years, that village has remained intact. Those things left them alone for all these years. We don’t know why, either. The problem is, they finally attacked, and our secondary reports are showing they killed quite a few.”
“And our asset?”
“We can assume he is dead or hiding. We’ve heard nothing, no response, since his first message,” she replied solemnly.
“You think he’s dead, don’t you?” Reynolds asked.
Elizabeth nodded. “I do.”
“Ma’am, that poses a heavy problem.”
“It does,” she agreed.
“I’ll assume you understand the intelligence needed on an operation like this. In my early years, I did a lot of recon. Eyes on the ground saves lives, plain and simple. Now that our asset is dead, and with no way to watch our men’s backs, the team will be walking in blind.”
“They’ve done it before when INTEL was sketchy.”
“With all due respect, this isn’t sketchy. There is absolutely none!” Reynolds proclaimed.
“I know, I know,” Elizabeth muttered. “Without drone capability, and with our satellite imagery still not up to par, we have no instant intelligence. They’ll be going in blind, and against something that seems . . .”
“Very pissed off,” Colonel Reynolds finished for her. He shook his head, letting it sink in. He was in disbelief, and though exhausted from only a few hours rest, fully awake and aware. His mind spun out of control, attempting to figure out a solution to this problem.
He had one.
“I’ll do it,” Reynolds stated.
“You’ll do what?” she asked, hands on her hips, scowl on her face.
“I’ll be your eyes on the ground. I’ll go in, post up on the southern ridge. I’ll cover them, watch their backs,” Reynolds said.
“You’ll do no such thing,” Elizabeth replied.
“You need a lookout.”
“Colonel, I need you here at command.”
“No, you need one of the best scout-snipers in the world to watch your guys, make sure nothing comes up behind them. No surprises, early intelligence. Seconds might matter.”
“I don’t like this,” she began.
“Neither do I, but what else can we do? We’re here to accomplish a mission, and you’ll need me down there. From an elevated position, I could monitor the valley as they go into the cave.”
Elizabeth sighed, knowing the Marine was right. “I’ll need to get clearance from Langley.”
“Screw Langley. They aren’t here right now. We are.”
“I just . . .” Elizabeth paused, pondering the consequences of such action.
“Listen, you wonder why the Russians seem to know what’s going on? Think maybe there’s someone telling ’em too much? Keeping this silent might play into our hands.”
“Well, maybe.”
“Asymmetrical Warfare Group, right?”
“Yes.”
“That means unconventional tactics, right?”
“Yes.”
“Well, it’s pretty damn unconventional to send in a Marine Colonel now, isn’t it?” Reynolds said with a smile.
She returned one. “You do realize the risks?”
“This ain’t my first tour, ma’am,” he replied.
“Yeah, we know that you like to go out in the field from time to time. Not wise for a base commander to do so, but they look the other way, don’t they?”
“They can’t do anything about it. Now listen, I’ll post up on that ridge. Sergeant York said their COMMS worked within the Unit, just not back to command. But then again, they did contact at the top of the ridgeline. If I’m high enough, perhaps I can provide a link to you and the team. And, if shit starts going wrong, I’ll cover the LZ if they need to make a quick escape.”
Elizabeth sighed. “Colonel, I don’t like it, but you’re right. We need the eyes on the ground. I suppose it’s a good thing you’re the best sniper in the world.”
“Best active Sniper, yes. A guy named Swagger’s a tad bit better,” he remarked.
“Regardless, I suppose we go with it. Not much else we can do.”
“Yeah, not much else we can do,” Reynolds agreed. For the first time, she saw a flicker in the man’s eyes, a wild look at the notion of combat. He was happy to do this job.
“All right, it’s done,” Elizabeth said. “Michael and Viki can aide me here. If you’ll gather your effects, I can have you up in the air in thirty minutes.”
“I’ll be ready in twenty,” Reynolds said.
“Good. I suppose you know how to jump out of an airplane at night,” she said, tilting her head.
“Okay, I’m trusting you, Colonel. Trust me when I say this: There’s no backup, nobody to come get you if you fall, if they come for you. You’ll be all alone in that valley. Do you understand this?” Elizabeth asked.
“I’m a Marine Scout Sniper, ma’am. That’s sorta what we do.”
“I’ll have Michael give you the proper hardware, communications and whatnot. Your choice of weapons systems. We brought them all, so you’ll have a wide selection.”
“I’ll stick with my ol’ Remington M40. It looks banged up, but it gets the job done. If you’ll supply me with some decent rounds, maybe ones that explode, that’d be great,” he grinned.
“The best,” Elizabeth promised. “Okay, Colonel, you’re going in. Your call sign is—”
“Sierra Bravo Four,” he interrupted. He was insistent, as this had been his call sign for many years while in the field.
She didn’t question it, instead nodding her head and repeating, “Sierra Bravo Four it is. Good luck and God speed, Colonel Reynolds,” Elizabeth said.
86
Rivers hurried up moments after Reynolds left. Watching the man go, he turned to Elizabeth. “He really going in?”
“Looks like it.”
“Svetlana? York?”
“Yes.”
Rivers shook his head. “I don’t like this, Lizzy. I’m afraid . . . I’m afraid this haste, this lack of planning, will hinder the mission.”
Elizabeth stepped close, whispering, “I’m afraid I’m sending you to your death.”
The two fell into each other’s arms, kissing, holding one another. This time as lovers, as soul-mates. As if it would be the last time.
*
Rivers hurried to wake Dale, to wake the others. He nearly got into another fight when he interrupted Clements’ beauty sleep, as he called it.
The team readied fast. They had done this a million times, and were swift, near graceful.
It took some time for Svetlana to ready, though. She was nervous, and as Michael explained to her the contents in her pack, she could hardly breathe. She was gasping for air as they strapped a harness around her, fitted her with a hose that strapped to a oxygen tank.
“So . . . so I’m jumping from an airplane,” Svetlana asked, nervous.
“You’ll be tandem jumping with Lieutenant Rivers,” Michael replied. “You’ll be jumping from a high altitude, and with a lot of gear. Two important things—keep your body arched until he pulls the chute. Two, keep your gear tight. You’re carrying a lot of gear!” Michael emphasized.
“Is this safe?” Svetlana.
“Well, ma’am, Rivers is a SEAL. He’s done this many times.”
“Is it?” she inquired.
“No, not really,” Michael admitted, cinching the harness tight, assuring her pack was fitted close to her chest.. He double checked the hose line; it would attach to two small tanks on Rivers. He would also carry a pack that would drop beneath them, as well as an assortment of weapons.
Crack-crack!
The sound of an AK-47. Distinctive, something Svetlana had heard many times in her mother country.
“Don’t worry, darling,” Rivers said with a west-coast surfer’s smile. “I’m DEVGRU, done it a million times. Just enjoy the ride and I’ll get us on target.”
“Uh . . . okay,” she muttered, eyes wide, skin pale.
“Just close your eyes when we jump. The freefall won’t be long, either. Keep your mask tight, breath slow, and enjoy the ride. We’ll be jumping from around thirty-thousand.”
“Feet?”
“Yup. At that altitude, it’s important you’re getting good air. Tap me twice, and hard, if you’re not. Otherwise, you’ll black out and die.”
“I’ll try to remember that.”
“Once we pull, our bags will drop. Don’t try to catch them, they’re designed that way.”
“Okay.”
“We’ll float in, a downward descent. We’ll be jumping from seven miles out, slow approach since it’s pretty far. But once we find our LZ, that’s landing zone, we’ll spiral down a bit faster. Sound okay?”
“Whatever you say. Just get me to the ground safe.”
“I’ll do my best,” Rivers said, speaking in Russian.
He looked over, seeing Elizabeth in the distance, watching the team sort their gear, make final preparations.
She shook her head disapprovingly at Rivers.
He raised his hands up, a sign that he just couldn’t help himself. Flirtation with beautiful women was in his blood.
Elizabeth laughed out loud, allowing it to pass, allowing those days to be long over. No more jealously, no more worry. Only love.
Behind her, Michael and Viki hurried. They had a long day ahead of them.
“Start the coffee,” Elizabeth said. “Boot up the computers. Get on the phone with Langley. Tell them we’re going in. Tell them Task Force Zulu Seven is going into Khost.”
Elizabeth then departed without looking back. She, too, had much work to do.
87
A small jet that could seat ten in luxury awaited them on the tarmac. They boarded the Gulfstream. Normally meant for the rich executives of major corporations, this one was retrofitted with special capabilities, a special operations platform intended for such things as this.
The Modified G750 was running, engines whining, door open and stairs leading up to it. The six members of Delta filed up, one at a time, carrying large packs and multiple firearms. They had to duck through the door, turning sideways to fit in.
Sergeants Clements and Thompson.
Sergeants Hernandez and Marcus.
Sergeant Jefferson.
Sergeant Dale Comstock, team leader for this mission.
Rivers led Svetlana, helping her up the steps. He could tell she was athletic, didn’t struggle from the weight of her gear, and was rather graceful with her steps. She was, however, quite frightened.
At the top, they also had to turn, squeezing themselves into the open doorway. Once through, Svetlana stopped cold, looking back to Rivers.
“What’s wrong?”
“How are we going to jump out with the opening so tight? We don’t even have our parachutes attached yet.”
“Don’t worry, darling. I’ll show you when the time comes. Now make yourself comfortable. These jets are top of the line. Enjoy it, ’cause it costs more money than you want to know to operate one on such short notice.”
Indeed, it was nice. The inside was plush, warm, comforting. Two long couches on each wall, making four total. Each was capable of seating two men, gear and all. Above were racks, where their parachutes and ammo bags rested. The men were sure to check everything was in working order for the last time. There were four accompanying chairs, two in the front, two in the rear. Svetlana and the six Delta sat on the couches, Rivers in the back chair. The front ones remained vacant. They huddled close, gabbing away, overcoming their nerves with jokes, mostly.
There was no going back.
Moments later, another man stepped board the plane. He tucked his head, stepping into the light of the cabin as one of the pilots closed the door and secured it.
Sergeant C. York.
“Hey, boys . . . and woman,” he greeted them with a raised hand. “Got room for one more?” he asked, taking a seat in the front chair, right side of the plane. He swiveled it toward them, staring at the eight other occupants.
“Guessing ya already know, but the name’s York.”
88
Within moments, the plane jolted, and less than a minute later they were racing down the runway.
Svetlana had to grip the seat tight.
The others seemed unconcerned, nearly bored.
Once airborne, they knew time was limited. They should be discussing the mission, going over last minute strategies. Preparing themselves mentally.
But York was as if a plague of insanity, and he persisted in a deep stare, looking each up and down. The wide, cra
zy grin remained on his face. His hair was oily, falling down past his eyes. His beard full.
“We’re raised to believe monsters don’t exist,” York said.
“Say what?” Clements said, who was seated closest.
“As children, we know they exist, we know better. But we’re told by our parents that monsters don’t exist, that they’re fake. Over and over, in a sense they brainwash us. Instead, they fill us with stories of Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny. But, when we’re young, we don’t believe our parents, because we know deep down that monsters are indeed real! That they exist in the shadows, that if you’re not careful they’ll snatch you up. And what do we do? We check the closet, look under the bed. And for what? For whom? The boogeyman. Because as children, we know the truth deep down. That the boogeyman is real. We know monsters exist.”
“I had an active imagination too,” Dale replied, leaning forward, both irritated and bemused. “Shit, I remember getting quite upset when my GI Joe toys broke. What’s this all matter? Who cares?”
“You should care. The point is, as children we see reality for what it really is. We acknowledge the truth, and it takes years for our parents to convince us otherwise. Children see the beauty of life, they also see the horrors.”
“What’s next, a fucking poem?” Clements asked.
“What I’m saying is this: monsters are real!” York exclaimed.
“Bullshit,” Clements responded.
“You fucking hillbilly, you just don’t get it,” York stated. “We pretend they don’t exist because they don’t fit our reality. We ignore the truth, even if it’s overwhelming. How many people don’t believe in aliens? Yet how many claim to be abducted? Maybe it’s because there’s a level of truth to the matter? We’re stripped of the most precious truth of all.”
“And what’s that?”
“Our reality is stripped away, created by those who want us under control.”
“You sound like a fucking conspiracy theorist.”
“This matter is a conspiracy. A secret that the entire world will never know. A secret that might die with us once we enter that cave.”
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