Carlisle stepped out for a moment to give Derek some time with his men. The men hooted and hollered for a second before Derek silenced them with a whistle.
“Hey guys, listen up. First off, awesome job this past week. We all hung in there and did what we were supposed to do. Great job. I am sure these guys will test us again and again, though, so let's always stay on our toes and work as a team. We were selected for this group for a reason; let's continue to show them why.
“Now, we are all professionals, so I know you can remember most of this stuff. We are going to launch from here early next Sunday; we've got our first assignment. I'll give you the details when you return, and I suggest getting back here Saturday morning. When we're done here, everyone is clear to go back home and spend a few days with family. Soak it up, because the one thing I will tell you about the assignment is it has no set length. We may be there a few days or a few months, I honestly don't know.
“There are few details I do know at this point. At home, the story is this: You are a defense contractor working with the Department of Defense. More specifically, your job is to assess training requirements and courses for soldiers and DoD civilians serving abroad. The job can and will take you anywhere US personnel are serving. Same as always, deflect questions and bore the hell out of anyone who gets nosy. The company is Global Defense Solutions Inc., just like Carlisle told you. It is not a name that will come up in any online searches. It's just a name for us and a way to get paid. Cool?”
The men nodded.
“Alright, get out of here. See you in a few days.”
Tuesday, January 19
Langley, Virginia
CIA Headquarters
1045 Hrs
Jerry and Carlisle sat quietly outside the director's office, waiting. A constant flurry of assistants and messengers carried files and notes in to the director's secretary. The director, without question, had one of the most demanding and thankless jobs in America. Safeguarding the United States and its interests under orders from the president was no joke. Few people, besides the president, received more criticism than the director of the CIA.
The director sat on the seventh and top floor of the infamous CIA headquarters building. Being called to the seventh floor was a big deal. The director's office, senior leadership, and the 24/7 operations center were situated on the top floor. It was an important floor.
“Mr. Carr, the director will see you now,” said the director's secretary.
Jerry and Carlisle stood and followed her to the double doors leading into the director's office.
The director was catching up on some last-minute reading as Jerry and Carlisle entered.
The director of the CIA, Roger Covington, was a fit individual in his mid-sixties, having remained in great shape from his previous military assignments. He had a stern and rigid appearance, but his warm smile lit up the room. Bags under his eyes were evidence of sleepless nights; constant interrogations from Congress and the media had taken their toll. It was clear that the job was beginning to wear on the director, and signs of accelerated aging were beginning to show, as they often did on men in such positions. Being the director of the CIA could make anyone go gray.
“Gentlemen, welcome. Have a seat. Carlisle, how the hell have you been? It's been way too long.”
“Very good, sir. Thank you for asking, and yes, it has been too long.”
The director removed his reading glasses and leaned back in his chair. “So, Jerry, tell me, how are things going with Maverick?”
“Things are going better than expected, sir. We are set to deploy the men Sunday.”
“Sunday? That's phenomenal. Must have been some top-notch recruiting.”
“Carlisle did a wonderful job, sir. We have a solid group of men, all of them trained and very capable. They all did great working together down south and did particularly well during the SERE exercise.”
“No shit? That's fantastic! I remember our SERE course. What a pain in the ass that was, huh? Seems like just yesterday.”
“What's it been … twenty years?” Carlisle said.
Jerry Carr nodded. “Yep. Our unit disbanded twenty years ago. It was a different time when the three of us were out saving the world.”
“Damn straight,” the director said. “Rules were a little different then, weren't they. ‘You can't do that’ really meant ‘Get it done, or it's your ass.’ ”
“Too bad things have changed so much,” Carlisle said.
The director nodded. “Well, between the damned media and this liberal Congress, the mission's getting more challenging by the hour. But the blowback …”
“You do a damned good job, sir,” Carlisle said.
“Well, thanks. But you and Jerry didn't come here to pump sunshine up my skirt. About Maverick: Are we still good in terms of security? These guys are quiet, right?”
“They're professionals, sir. I know we won't have any problems.”
“Good, because as you both know, if this thing gets out, we will go down hard. The agency will take a huge hit, and the president will take an even bigger hit. We'll all likely get sentenced for some ridiculous charge and go to the cinder block Hilton. But American forces and our people will be safer with this group out and about, and that's what I'm concerned with. How are the men responding to Mr. …” The director fumbled through his notes to find the right name. “Mr. Stevens. Derek Stevens. He's younger, but in charge, if I am not mistaken.”
“Correct, sir,” Jerry said. “Well, Carlisle is actually running point on the program, and Derek answers to him, but in terms of field decisions, he is the group lead.”
“Tell me a little bit about him.”
“I think we found a diamond in the rough with this one, sir. He is less trained than most in the unit, but maybe more capable, if that makes any sense …”
The director nodded in understanding.
Carr continued, “He is one of those rare guys you come across who just has it. He was an interrogator and source operator in a tactical intel unit created by the secretary of defense a few years ago. They worked exclusively with SEAL Team Six and Delta Force, sir. This guy has great experience. Everything he has done has been in the vein of our program, hush-hush and extremely compartmentalized.”
“Good. I already like this guy. And do the men seem to respect him?”
“Absolutely, sir. The whole group is a good fit thus far.”
“OK, well, let's get them in and out fast. Boots in and boots out; the less time on the ground, the better. Carlisle, how are things going down in Florida? Is the site working out?”
“Yes sir, it is. We have plenty of upgrades and additions that will be required soon, but all in all, things are good.”
“Well, you let me know what these guys need, and I'll get it for them. I don't want the site becoming too big down there, though. Right now, it's simple looking enough that an overhead shot doesn't raise too many questions. We can squelch any rumors that come out now. Besides, most will think military first, anyways.”
“We can't have some pimply kid seeing anything on Google Earth that makes someone think about the CIA, that's for sure,” Carr said. “The last thing we want is a bunch of reporters combing the Everglades for the new CIA black site; the media will think it's Rendition all over again.”
“Correct. We certainly cannot afford that,” the director said. “OK, well, I hate to be brief, but I have several other meetings, as you can imagine. I will look forward to chatting and getting updates this weekend when the team deploys.”
Tuesday, January 19
Jacksonville, Florida
Stevens Residence
1059 Hrs
Derek rolled over and hugged Heidi. The couple had been up late, catching up on spousal activities. Heidi's eyes opened as Derek kissed her shoulder.
“Good morning.”
She stretched as he returned to his side of the bed and watched her with a huge grin.
“Well don't we seem happy this m
orning? Did you sleep OK?”
“Not too bad. I almost woke you up again around three-thirty.”
Derek spent enough time away that when he was home, the couple often found themselves awake in the middle of the night, enjoying intimate moments. He had woken Heidi at one-fifteen and two-thirty but couldn't muster up the energy to continue when he had tossed and turned at three-thirty that morning.
“Should I make us some coffee?” he asked.
“Mmm. Yes, that would be good.”
Derek pulled away the sheets and walked, still naked, to the kitchen.
“Aren't you going to put some clothes on?”
“Nope.”
Heidi laughed and remained under the covers. “You kill me. So, honey?” She waited as she heard clutter from the kitchen.
“Baby, where do we keep the extra coffee? This bag is gone.”
“It's in the pantry above the cereal. Honey?”
“Yeah, baby?”
“Do you know how long you will be gone yet?”
After a few seconds, Derek appeared in the doorway.
“No. I don't. I think I will be back in a week or two, tops.”
“I really hate that you are going.”
“I know. I do, too.”
Derek began to walk back toward the kitchen. “I do have some good news, though.”
“Oh really? What is it?”
“Well, I was fooling around last night …”
“Oh believe me, I know that.”
“No I was fooling around before we were fooling around, and I got us a little surprise for the spring.”
“What?”
“Well, we are going on a little vacation later this spring. Nothing major, but I think it will be fun.”
“Really? Where?”
“How does Rome sound?”
Derek covered his ears as Heidi screamed in excitement from the bedroom. Within seconds, he was being hugged by his naked wife, who had the grin of a first-grader glued to her face.
“Are you serious?”
“I am serious.”
“That is so awesome. Thank you, baby, you are the best.” She kissed him and jumped in excitement.
“So can I offer the naked lady some coffee?”
The two stopped and looked at each other, realizing they were both naked in the kitchen, and laughed.
“Yes. Just give me one second. I am going to throw something on.” She turned and ran to the bedroom but turned back to kiss Derek one more time. “I love you.”
“I love you too, honey.”
C H A P T E R 5
Sunday, January 24
Everglades, Florida
Maverick Training Facility
0150 Hrs
A small light bulb in the corner of the hangar provided the only light for the team as they waited by their packs for the flight. Inside each pack were tactical clothes, communications gear, custom Maverick Series weapons, and an assortment of other gear that would be required on their assignment.
The plane would have the team's chutes and other necessary gear on board. The men had a long flight ahead of them and were not kitted up yet. Most were decked out in 5.11 tactical clothing in hopes of remaining comfortable for the journey. The jet would pick them up at the airfield and take them to Ramstein Air Base in Germany, their only stop. T e military would know a CIA jet was landing but would not be privy to who was inside or what they were doing. This type of deal was arranged only at the senior level of leadership.
Several pops and the distinct hissing sound of flares ripped through the quiet night skies as red smoke and lights now illuminated the runway. The airfield had been notified by the pilot that they were in range. Men scrambled to prepare the strip. Landing on a short runway in the middle of the Everglades at night was no easy task, especially without good runway lights. The aircrew had done this before, though, and would have several more difficult missions ahead of them.
Derek had learned that Larry Tuttle, the owner of Osprey Aviation, was a longtime friend of the director and had served with him in the army. While the director had been a Special Forces operator, Tuttle had been a Special Operations pilot. He had served with the 160th, a unit dedicated to flying the most difficult missions.
Tuttle's connection to the director and Davenport had landed him a huge contract, and although his company flew cargo and personnel for other agencies, it would now have a section solely responsible for the Maverick Program and other hush-hush CIA operations. Tuttle's people were supposed to be the best; that was comforting for Derek and the team.
The jet touched down rather smoothly, given the conditions, and taxied to the hangar. Light from the cabin pierced the darkness as the jet door opened. The crew stepped down and walked toward Derek and his men.
“You Stevens?” the pilot said.
“I am.”
“You ready?”
“We are.”
“Alright, let's go. Get your stuff and get your men on board. ETD in ten minutes.”
The team grabbed their gear and headed toward the plane. As Derek shouldered his bag, Carlisle appeared out of the darkness of the hangar.
“Good luck out there, Derek.”
“Thanks. We'll be in touch once we hit the ground.”
“Sounds good. Get out of here.”
Derek hustled toward the plane and got on.
Sunday, January 24
33,000 feet
0800 Hrs (1400 Hrs Germany)
Derek blinked groggily and looked around. He had been sleeping with his head resting between the window and his seat. The back-and-forth travel had exhausted him and the other men. At least the jet was well furnished; every seat had a ton of legroom and was spread out to maximize comfort for the passengers.
Miller and Grimes were lying on a couch that lined one wall, watching a flat-screen TV on the opposite side. In the rear, Randy and Carson played cards at a deck-mounted table. Beyond the table was another couch and area with drinks and snacks, followed by benches in the rear and a ramp for loading equipment. This would be the exit point for the team. The men were flying in style, but the luxuries wouldn't last for long.
Carson screamed out, “Dude, you gotta be fucking kidding me! How'd you get that hand every fucking time?”
“I guess fortune is on my side tonight, bro,” Randy said, grinning. “Want me to make sure your chute is packed right? I'm not sure if I'd jump, if I were you.”
A beep sounded, and the captain's voice interrupted the exchange. “Just a quick update from the cabin. We are currently cruising at 33,000 feet and seem to have pretty good weather ahead of us. We should be reaching our first destination in about an hour and fifteen minutes. Sit back and enjoy the rest of your ride, and we will have you there shortly.”
Grimes sat up and asked Miller, “How long are we in Germany?”
“Not too long hopefully, but we want to be sure to not reach Pakistani air space during daylight. Once we take of it's about seven hours or so to our jump.”
“Gotcha.”
The team would be jumping into an area known as the FATA, the Federally Administered Tribal Area, in Pakistan. The FATA was perhaps one of the most dangerous places in the world. Pakistan did little to nothing to monitor the area and would not allow US forces inside to help. Te area had become a safe haven and training ground for the world's worst terrorists. Derek knew that if you picked just about anybody of the CIA's priority target list, he was either there now or had been there recently.
The team was to land in the FATA just east of the Afghan border near Nangarhar Province. In this area, the fabled Khyber Pass ran from Pakistan into Afghanistan. This was one of the several channels used by terrorists for entering Afghanistan to fight the infidels. It was extremely dangerous. The team's plan was to skirt the Khyber Pass and cross the border just outside of Torkham, a border town on the Afghan side.
The Maverick Experiment Page 5