He’d like to lock her up somewhere, just to be certain she’d stay where he would know what she was up to. Azami would always go her own way, make her own decisions; he understood that and admired her for it. He would never respect a woman who didn’t know what she wanted and went for it. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to worry about her.
Ryland had maps spread out on the table and up on the screens on the walls. He glanced up as Sam came in. “The general okay with you going?”
“I didn’t give him much choice. What have we got?” Sam said.
“We’ll deploy in two teams,” Ryland replied. “Team One will be tasked as ‘pathfinder’ team. Nico, Kadan, Sam, and Jonas, that’s you.”
The four men nodded.
“You’ll make a HALO insertion from a CIA Gulfstream C-11. The crew as usual will be squawking a Yemen business jet transponder code to cover us.”
A HALO was a high altitude, low opening jump.
“Normal businessmen you are,” Gator said with a little snicker. He sobered up when Ryland shot him a glance.
“They’ll drop you at twenty-five thousand AGL, so you’ll need your oxygen kit.”
Sam nodded his head. The air to ground distance was a long one. They’d better have oxygen.
“For all of you, no dog tags, no ID card, and use sterile British fatigues. TOT will be oh-three-hundred zulu.”
The time over the target was called out in universal time.
“Snipers will take Dragunov SVD sniper rigs, and SR-2 submachine guns. Sam, you and Jonas take an AKM assault rifle.” He looked around the room. “Each of you will have a Pya Yariggi nine-millimeter pistol. If you’re not familiar with any of these, get that way and fast. Believe me, gentlemen, you’ll need them.”
“No problem,” Kadan answered for the others.
“You will get eyes on the objective location to confirm intel reports if at all possible. You’ll be responsible for the recon of and establishing of a DZ for the second team.”
The drop zone was all-important going in this time, as the area was entirely overrun with rebels and most of the roads were blown to hell.
“You will be setting up a primary and secondary RP to link up with us after we insert. You will also need to set up a primary and secondary PZ, for the extractions of both teams.”
It was always necessary to establish two rally points as well as two pickup zones in case anything went wrong. Sam was well aware they expected things to go wrong this time.
“You will recon the rendezvous point, set up shop, and cover Sam and me when we go meet this joker. You have thirty-six hours to complete these objectives.” Ryland pinned all four men with his steely eyes. “Any questions?”
“No, sir,” Kadan answered.
Ryland tapped his finger on the table as if he itched to say more, but he shook his head and turned his attention back to his plan. “Team Two will stage at an air base in Turkey. We will insert via the same aircraft.”
Gator nudged Tucker. “More businessmen. I’m wearin’ my suit. The ladies love that.”
Ryland suppressed a grin. “Yeah, they will, Gator; we’ll let you drop first.”
“Thanks, Captain, I’ll let Flame know she needs to pick up a little more life insurance.”
Ryland shook his head and returned to the instructions. “We’ll insert by HAHO from twenty-seven thousand feet AGL,” he said, referring to air to ground level.
HAHO was a high altitude, high opening jump. Never fun over a jungle in the dark in hostile territory. They would glide for thirty-five miles using compass and map to reference land features for directional reference.
“We’ll be dropped thirty-eight miles east of the objective. We’ll soar into the DZ Team One established, approximately two miles from the objective. Four of us will have AKMs and the fifth will have an RPK light machine gun. All of us will carry the Pya Yariggi pistol.”
He looked around the room. “Each one of you will carry the following…” He waited until his men were ready for the list.
“Four claymore mines, four pounds of C-4, eight blasting caps, eight time-delay igniters, thirty feet of det cord explosive, ten minutes’ worth of fuse time, six Mk II frag grenades, four M18 smoke grenades. One red, one green, and two white. I want each of you to also have two M-14 thermite incendiary grenades, three hundred and thirty- five rounds rifle, three magazines pistol, the snipers bring seventy rounds for the SVDs. Everyone,” he continued, “two extra battery sets for each radio issued you, UV water purification device, and trauma kit.”
Ryland waited again until his men were all finished listing the necessities. “Our objective is to secure and transport a political package. We will take out two rebel combatant leaders and destroy as much rebel equipment and munitions as we can. If we are compromised, we are on our own.”
“Wow. How new is that?” Gator asked, looking around with a grin. “I don’ think any of us has ever been in that situation.”
Tucker nudged him hard enough to make him nearly topple over. “They’ve been trying to lose you for years, Cajun man.”
“I grew up wrestlin’ gators; a little romp in the jungle isn’t goin’ to get me lost,” Gator assured. “Try as they might to get it done.”
Ryland held up his hand to return attention on him. “Extraction is scheduled to be provided by the 160th SOAR, special operations aviation regiment. They will be flying an MH-53D Pave Low with two AH-6 ‘Little Bird’ gunships for cover. If both PZs are compromised, then we secure our own transport and try to get to a friendly country.” He looked around at the men he’d gone into combat with hundreds of times.
Nico Trevane was Lakota Indian and Japanese, with bronze skin, long black hair, and flat, cold eyes. He was tall, with obvious muscles, yet he could walk silently and slide through any terrain without a sound. He was not only a renowned marksman but he spoke many languages. His psychic abilities were an asset at any time. He was an anchor, drawing unwanted psychic overload away from the other members of his team. He seemed to always know where the enemy was by the emotions and energy surrounding the individual.
Kadan Montague was a broad-shouldered man with strong arms, very muscular, with dark blue, almost black eyes. A thin white scar ran the length of his face. Known for his coolness under fire, at home in any environment, very calm in any crisis, he was Ryland’s second in command. He could do what few other GhostWalkers could. He enhanced other psychic gifts, could see images in sound, could be nearly invisible, and was able to shield an entire team from detection. Kadan could cling to any surface like a lizard and change his skin color to match his background. Ryland always knew he could rely on his judgment.
Jonas Harper did his job with the minimum amount of fuss. Blond, medium build with hard, sinewy muscles that allowed him to fold himself into small spaces, Jonas had Florentine gold eyes that could look right through a building. Expert with knives, he’d grown up in the circus and was a high wire specialist, spoke multiple languages, was a master of disguise, a master thief and pickpocket, and could disappear into fog, shadow, or anything available to him. Like Nico, he was a quiet man, but could always be counted on.
Sam Johnson was an undisputed genius, had dark eyes and curly hair, and quiet laughter. He was another who spoke multiple languages and who could do extraordinary things such as teleport. He was also a marksman and incredible at hand-to-hand.
Ryland looked at the four men he called family. He was sending them into hell with no backup.
“Team One is wheels up in six hours.”
Sam waited until the others had filed out. “Rye, I want you to talk with Azami. I think she can help.”
Ryland scowled at him. “Am I supposed to tell a civilian what we’re doing?”
Sam shook his head. “She’s a GhostWalker. One of us. And she can make sure we have a chance at getting out of there alive.”
CHAPTER 17
