“Then I can’t help you.” Remington watched the screen. The Syrian tanks and APCs had reached the town’s limits. He raised his voice. “Falcon Leader, this is Base.”
“Go, Base. You have Falcon Leader.” Swindoll sounded rattled.
“Begin your withdrawal. Quickly as you can. Evac the wounded by air. Get the rest of your people out of there by convoy. The Black Hawks will provide cover.”
“Affirmative.”
“You’re going to have to help me,” Cody stated quietly.
“You just said Icarus isn’t here,” Remington reminded.
“He isn’t. He’s in Harran.”
Remington kept his face impassive with effort.
“We suspect that he’s trying to seek out your first sergeant again.”
“Why?”
“Because I had a team on First Sergeant Gander, in case of this eventuality. They spotted Icarus this morning and contacted me.”
“Then why don’t they bring him in?”
“After repeated efforts over the last forty minutes, I haven’t been able to reach them.” Cody pursed his lips and looked like he’d bitten into a lemon. “I’m fairly certain they’re dead.” He nodded at the screen. “Given that the Syrians are about to be in possession of Harran, I figure your people are likely the last chance I have of getting Icarus back.”
Remington stared at the destruction overtaking the ancient city. Tanks and APCs plunged through houses and buildings. Infantry jogged behind the mechanical behemoths. Other computer monitors offered views of the Rangers retreating through the streets in vehicles and on foot. Survival had become a deadly footrace.
“Do you really expect me to find Icarus in that?” Remington asked.
“You’re the best chance I have, Captain. That city is sinking. Icarus is going to be like any other rat. He’ll try to find a way out to safety. Circulate his image. Let’s see if he pops up.”
United States 75th Army Rangers Outpost
Harran
Sanliurfa Province, Turkey
Local Time 0736 Hours
Goose wished that Danielle and her cameraman had stayed back. Following him was dangerous. Then he realized that anywhere in Harran was dangerous for an American citizen. Even the people who lived in the town would be forfeit if the Syrians caught up to them.
“Falcon Three,” Swindoll called.
Goose didn’t respond. Two of the Bedouins still remained on the loose. He guessed that they would be listening for him.
When he reached the narrow alley ahead of him, he turned and looked down it. Nothing stirred, though the town seemed to vibrate with the rock and roll caused by the advancing Syrian cavalry. Then, from the corner of his eye, he caught movement in the house in front of him.
Goose whirled and hunkered down. His weak knee screamed in agony, but he somehow forced it to hold up under him. He brought the M-4A1 online and squeezed the trigger. Bullets ripped across the windowsill and through the thin curtains, where a rifle muzzle protruded. Rounds from the Bedouin weapon pocked the wall over Goose’s head.
The Bedouin tumbled backward without a sound.
“Goose!” Danielle yelled. “The rooftop!”
Glancing up, Goose barely made out another Bedouin atop the roof. Goose threw himself to one side just before bullets whipped through the space where he’d been. He fired again, emptying the carbine’s magazine in a final chatter of fullauto. The bullets stitched up the roof, easily piercing the thin cover, and tracked onto the Bedouin. The man lost his weapon and fell from the other side of the house.
Goose fed a new magazine into the M-4A1 and got up. It felt like a colony of fire ants had taken up residence in his knee.
“Falcon Three,” Swindoll tried again. “Goose.”
“Three reads you, Leader. I was sidetracked with a couple things.”
Goose limped forward and checked the two Bedouins. Both men were dead.
“We’re exfiltrating,” Swindoll said.
“Affirmative. I’ve got wounded here. I’ll get there when I can.”
Goose turned back the way he’d come. “Falcon Eleven, are you still with me?”
“Yes. I need help.”
“I’ll be there.” Goose walked past Danielle and the cameraman. “Ma’am, you two shouldn’t be here.”
Danielle didn’t say anything.
“Do you know where the airport is?” Goose asked.
“Yes.”
“Then get there. This town’s about to get turned inside out, and you don’t want to be here when it happens.”
“You’ve got wounded men back there.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll take care of them.”
“It’ll be easier if we take care of them.” Danielle fell into stride with him, easily catching up to him. His leg throbbed and felt unsteady.
“Ma’am-”
“The Rangers aren’t the only ones who don’t leave people behind, Goose. And if that’s the best you’re able to walk, you’re not going to be able to help those men much.”
Ruefully, Goose closed his mouth and nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” He kept the assault rifle across his chest as they went back to the house where Corporal Brett Rainier had holed up.
At the house, Goose held Danielle and the cameraman back from the window.
“Corporal,” Goose called.
“Sarge.” Rainier sounded weaker.
“Yeah. It’s me. Okay to come ahead?”
“Yes.”
Goose stepped through the door but kept the M-4A1 at the ready in case some of the Bedouins had made their way inside the building and were holding the two men hostage.
20
United States 75th Army Rangers Outpost
Harran
Sanliurfa Province, Turkey
Local Time 0738 Hours
Darkness and heat filled the house even with the windows open. If the windows had been larger, more light might have come in. As it was, they barely allowed light or a breeze.
The people who live here don’t stay inside much, Goose thought. They lived a lot like the backwoods people he’d grown up with in Waycross. There were a lot of houses back there that didn’t have airconditioning and got by on box fans.
Rainier and Johnson were hunkered down in one corner. Rickety, mismatched furniture occupied the small room, barely making a dent in the meager space. On the other side of the room, a small wood-burning stove had a hot surface that held cooking utensils.
The people who normally lived here were used to hard ways, Goose couldn’t help thinking. There were no pictures on the walls and no electronics.
Rainier was in his early twenties and had been in the Rangers for a couple of years. He was compact and
