Stunned, Danielle didn’t know what to say. Tears welled up in her eyes.
“I must go now,” Simona said. “We have many things to do to prepare for my sister funeral, yes?”
A thousand questions hammered at Danielle’s brain. “What happened to the man who shot Lizuca?”
“He get away. He have gun. No one stop him.”
“Was he identified?”
Lizuca’s mother called out. The only thing Danielle recognized was Simona’s name.
Simona answered rapidly in her native language. “I must go, Miss Vinchenzo, yes?” Simona said. “My mother, she needs me.”
“Of course,” Danielle said. “Did they identify the man who shot Lizuca?”
“No. That man, he get away. No catch. No identify. No find. The police, they still looking. I must go take care of my mother.”
“If there’s anything I can do,” Danielle offered.
“Pray for us,” Simona suggested.
The phone clicked dead in Danielle’s ear.
Bogasieru looked up at her. “I have the location.” He handed her a computer printout with directions to the building where the Rangers were under attack.
Danielle took yellow, lined paper, then wrote Lizuca Carutasu’s name on a section of it. She gave the paper to Bogasieru.
“This woman was just murdered in Bucharest at a café,” Danielle said. “I want you to find out as much information about the shooting as you can.”
Bogasieru frowned at the piece of paper. “Bucharest is not part of our assignment, Miss Vinchenzo.”
Danielle held on to her anger and pain as she shrugged into her gear. She looked at the man. “Find. Out.”
Bogasieru held her gaze for only a moment. Then he dropped his eyes. “Of course.” He swiveled back to the computers.
Looking at Cezar and Gorca, who had already grabbed their gear and didn’t look happy as they stared at the monitor over Bogasieru’s shoulder, Danielle said, “Let’s roll.”
“I’m driving,” Cezar said.
“No,” Gorca said with quiet but firm authority. “I will drive.”
By the time they got outside to the Jeep carrying OneWorld NewsNet identification plastered all over it and flying from a twentyfoot whip antenna, Danielle had already slid behind the steering wheel. Cezar hurried around to the passenger side while Gorca hoisted himself onto the rear deck with deep resignation.
Danielle reached under the seat for the keys and turned the engine over. As she drove, she tried to sort through her thoughts and her guilt. It wasn’t working.
What was that unidentified CIA section chief hiding that called for the murder of a young woman in Bucharest? What did OneWorld NewsNet have in its corporate files that the CIA agent would be willing to kill over?
She didn’t know, but she was determined to find out. Whatever the information was, Lizuca Carutasu had gotten killed because she’d tried to find out who the CIA man was.
And Danielle knew she had put the young woman in harm’s way. Licuza’s death was her fault.
United States 75th Army Rangers Temporary Post
Sanliurfa, Turkey
Local Time 1335 Hours
“Air support,” Goose called over the headset as he stripped an empty magazine from his M-4A1 and shoved a fresh one home. “This is Phoenix Leader. Do you copy?”
“Affirmative, Phoenix Leader,” the crisp voice responded. “We are en route to your twenty.”
Shoving himself back up behind the Hummer, Goose pulled his assault rifle to his shoulder and took aim at one of the three buildings their attackers held. He pulled the trigger, spacing three-round bursts across the rooftop, chewing through the thirty-round magazine in seconds.
So far, they hadn’t identified their attackers. They wore street clothes and burnooses, but so did a lot of Sanliurfa’s citizens and some of the city’s visitors. But they came equipped with rocket launchers and assault rifles.
During the morning, at other spots throughout the city, the military forces had been attacked by Syrian soldiers caught behind the lines as well as PKK members and other terrorists who had elected to serve whatever convictions drove them. As paranoid as the soldiers defending the city were, the strategy was probably to get the armies firing at shadows. With the division of Turkish, American, and European soldiers, a few cases of friendly fire because of itchy trigger fingers could go a long way to breaking up the partnership they’d been forced to undertake.
Goose knew the Turkish military was still having problems with the Rangers running the joint op. The U.N. forces had their problems, too, but the United States Army still maintained the largest and most heavily equipped firepower and tech in the world. The general consensus was to let the U.S. try to get all of their soldiers home.
The downside was that the U.S. was going to be blamed for every death that occurred in Sanliurfa, and the nation’s critics were going to have a field day. If a U.S. soldier fell, it would be because the U.S. military had poor planning. If a U.N. or Turkish soldier fell, the loss would be attributed to a lack of coordination or because the U.S. military was following personal interest. Every citizen who died would be because the U.S. chose to insert itself into every international confrontation that came along.
The Whiskey Cobra gunship soared through the air, looking like a deadly dragonfly. But a dragonfly never came equipped with 20mm cannon, LAU-68 rocket pods, Hellfire antitank missiles, antipersonnel bombs, and a 30mm chain gun mounted underneath the carriage.
Beside Goose, Corporal Robinson smiled and said, “Those attackers are definitely in a world of hurt. They just don’t know it yet.”
Goose silently agreed. He shoved a fresh magazine home and glanced toward the burning building. Six warheads had slammed into the structure during the last minute and a half. The Rangers had succeeded in keeping some of their attackers pinned down. Teams were already approaching the buildings where the hostiles had taken up positions on the rooftops as well as inside the rooms.
“This is Search Twenty-Two,” a young man called
