All Necessary Force

Kurt paused, then said, “You know, if we weren’t all pissing in our pants here in D.C. over the indicators of a strike, I’d cancel this. The infil alone’s dangerous enough.”

“Sir, I got it. But we both know there’s a link to something here. Did you get the film?”

“Yeah. We developed it. Only seventeen of the thirty-six frames were exposed. All of them pretty much shot by the heat and humidity in Cambodia. We managed to get an image out of six.”

“And?”

“And nothing right now. Just a bunch of shadows and light. A couple have a man in them, but nothing identifiable. We’re digitally working them.”

“Okay. I know it sounds nuts, but those pictures mean something.”

“We’ll keep working it. How’s Jennifer doing?”

“Fine. She’s doing the recce for the drop zone right now. I’ll have the coordinates by this afternoon, before the team launches from Europe.”

And she’s going home after that. I realized I couldn’t keep stalling about what had happened to the Chinese man. I hadn’t told Kurt how I had made the connection between the camera and the strike, but I knew I had to. I wasn’t looking forward to it. I knew what he’d think. Get it over with.

“Actually, sir, she’s not fine. She’s coming home tomorrow, after the jump.”

“Why? Was it Bull’s death?”

“No. It’s something I did. I killed a guy.”

I heard nothing for a second.

“Were you in the right?”

“Well, not exactly.”

I told him what had happened, leaving nothing out, knowing I was probably canceling the jump, if not my future in the Taskforce. Shit, maybe putting my ass in jail. That’s just the way it would have to be. I didn’t know how the Taskforce would manage that, but I knew I’d go. I finished and waited on Kurt to say something.

“Pike, why?”

“Sir, I don’t know. I went black, like I used to do after my family died. I guess seeing Knuckles tore me up. I didn’t mean to kill him. It was either him or me.” When he didn’t respond, I hurried to get out “It was self-defense.”

I heard nothing but breathing, Kurt going through the implications in his mind. When he came back on, he was calm, but his voice was steel. “Pike… you need to come home. Get the team on the ground, then come back.”

He was remembering my slide into the abyss, and thinking I was just getting started on another run. “Sir, it won’t happen again. I mean that. I realize what I did. I know it’s bad.”

He lost his temper. I could hear it even through the Mickey Mouse sound of the VoIP. “Bad? You make it sound like you pissed on the rug. You fucking beat a detainee. Then killed him. Jesus Christ, if we were sanctioned by the government, you’d be arrested. I would arrest you.”

“Sir, I told you, it was self-defense, and he had something to do with Bull’s—”

“Shut the fuck up and let me finish. We can’t afford cowboys. You know that. We’re doing enough illegal shit as it is. We do not lose control. And we sure as shit don’t beat the hell out of people because of our own personal problems.”

The silence extended out. I said nothing, knowing he was right. I’d broken the sacrosanct rule. Because the Taskforce sent men out with the authority to make decisions with national implications, they had to be implicitly trusted to do the right thing. To do what was morally and ethically just. Always. Even when no one was looking. Especially when no one was looking. We operated outside the law, and we were our own police. Kurt took that very, very seriously. Trust was the cornerstone of our existence, and I might’ve lost his.

Kurt finally said, “Okay, get the team on the ground. I’d pull you right now, but we’re in a full-court press. Something bad’s coming, and I need everyone on it. We’ll talk about your future after this is over. You’re lucky that fucker killed a busload of people.”

I sagged with relief. “You got it, sir. I’ll do what I can.”

“That’s not what I want to hear. Do it right. No more bullshit.”

27

At precisely nine o’clock at night, Rafik pulled the nondescript van up to the south gate of Alexandria’s El Nozha Airport. His calm demeanor belied the adrenaline pounding his temples. He relaxed slightly when he saw his contact exit a guard shack, carrying a garbage bag.

Within five minutes, he and Kamil’s men were dressed just like the contact, as Egyptian soldiers, complete with AK-47s. The two pilots and loadmaster were cowering in the back, dressed in Noordin’s travel agency uniforms.

They entered the airport and waited, checking and rechecking their weapons.

Rafik said, “There’ll be another vehicle somewhere. They’ll go to the plane to unload. We need to beat them to the rear of the aircraft.”

They saw the lights of the runway spring to life, bathing the ground in a soft glow. The Arabs tensed, scanning the sky for the aircraft. Kamil saw it first. A blinking dot getting closer and closer. When it began its final approach, Rafik told the contact to drive.

They paralleled the runway, watching the plane touch down, the twin propellers reversing with a roar.

Behind the driver, Kamil said, “There’s the other vehicle.”

Rafik saw a pickup leaving the terminal, heading toward the runway.

“When we get to the plane, act like confused soldiers,” he said. “It will buy us time and lull them. Kamil and I will go inside. The rest of you deal with the truck.”

The driver turned onto the runway and reached the back of the plane as the rear door was lowering. The Arabs exited, Rafik in the lead.

A Caucasian man poked his head out, warily looking at the van.

Rafik said, “What is this? You have emergency?”

The man said, “Uhh… no. We’re meeting that vehicle.” He pointed to the approaching pickup.

Rafik walked up the short stairway, forcing the man to back up. Kamil followed, while the others stayed on the tarmac.

“Meeting someone? This airport is closed. Where is the pilot?”

“Hey, talk to Mansoor. Captain Mansoor? He’s your boss, right?”

The man had backed up to the cockpit, where the pilots were running through checklists, not realizing something was wrong. He got their attention. Both the pilot and copilot turned and faced backward. Rafik now had three heads in a neat row. Perfect.

The pilot said, “Hey, come on. You want more fucking money, or what? A deal’s a deal.”

Without a word, Rafik raised his AK and pulled the trigger, splitting the man’s head open. He heard Kamil fire twice on his left as he shifted his aim to the copilot. The man raised his hands in front of his face, as if that would stop the high-velocity round from tearing through his brain. Rafik squeezed twice and saw the man’s head snap back like it was yanked on a string.

All three men were dead, the pilots lolling in their seats as if they had fallen asleep, and the loadmaster crumpled on the deck.

Rafik lowered his weapon and smiled at Kamil. Before he could say anything, they heard gunfire erupt at the rear of the plane, the rattling sound of AK-47s on full automatic competing with a lower popping from pistols.

Rafik and Kamil threw themselves onto the deck of the aircraft and began snaking their way to the rear. In the distance, Rafik heard the Egyptian soldiers on guard begin firing in every direction, with rounds puncturing the thin skin of the aircraft.

They’ll ruin the plane. “Quit shooting!” he screamed. “Stop firing!” He knew as long