Bobby Bridger gave him a thumbs up and pulled the side door open of the craft, the night air biting through the material of his jumpsuit. Even with the multiple layers, the cold burrowed deep and settled into his bones. “Fuck this cold. I can barely feel my fingers.” He pulled the oxygen mask from his face and tossed it aside, confident that the nitrogen had been forced from his bloodstream.
Viktor adjusted the altitude then slowed the craft slightly. “Coming up on bingo.”
Bobby pulled the headphones off and tucked them away. He quickly opened the portable oxygen bottle and slipped the respirator over his face, tucking it under his goggles.
He turned and watched Viktor’s silhouette. His raised hand began counting down. Five. Four. Three. Two. Bobby gripped the sides of the opening and launched just as Viktor’s last finger fell.
He watched the edges of his goggles fog up and he prayed that he didn’t lose his field of sight. Above the clouds there wasn’t much to see, but once he broke through the canopy, he knew that he’d need his vision more than anything else to zero in on the landing zone.
He glanced at the tritium dial on the altimeter and prayed that the weather didn’t shift in the long minutes it would take him to close the distance on the building.
Bridger burst through the clouds and the nightscape nearly blinded him. He hadn’t realized just how lit up the city was in the wee hours and it took him precious moments to get his bearings. He began to maneuver himself in the air, shifting his weight, increasing his drag and attempting to point himself in the proper direction. He continually glanced at his altimeter, doing his best to time the opening with his current position.
Not wanting to risk a chute failure and no chance to recover, he opted to open at 800 meters. The chute was good and snapped him like a tetherball once fully deployed. He used the toggles and directed himself into a slow, circular arc over the target. He watched as the building loomed larger, his descent appearing much faster than he felt comfortable with.
With all of the strength he could muster, Bobby pulled both toggles as far down as he could, slowing the descent until he came in almost horizontally. He felt his feet slipping across the roof of the access and scrambled to find purchase.
He caught a steel vent pipe with his left boot and hooked it, stopping his motion. With a quick, nearly panicked action, he pulled at the suspension lines, gathering as much of the canopy as he could before it cleared the roof and entered the monitored security areas.
Bobby rolled to the side, yanking and folding at the canopy, collapsing then rolling it into a bundle and wrapping it with the suspension lines. He pulled the oxygen mask and goggles off and wrapped them into the canopy fabric.
“Slippy, give me a sitrep,” he whispered into the coms.
“I take it you successfully made landfall on the target.” Gregg’s voice was deadpan. “I see no alarms, so you either overshot or you did good.”
“Give me the damned sitrep,” Bobby bit back through chattering teeth. “I’m freezing my nuts off.”
“I would say no real loss, but…” Gregg tapped away at his computer. “The best I can give you is about eleven seconds. I suggest you move quickly.”
“Give me a countdown.” Bridger moved to the edge of the roof and dragged the parachute behind him. He slung the spent chute over his shoulder and hunkered near the edge of the roof, directly in front of the steel door.
“Roof access is unlocked. You will have your blind spot in three…two…”
“I need a longer countdown,” Bobby interjected, his teeth still chattering. “Body’s stiff. I need to get into position.”
“We’ve lost this window. Give it a moment,” Gregg replied. “I can drop it again in…ten, nine, eight…”
Bobby slipped his feet over the edge of the roof and dangled his legs in front of the door, slowly lowering his body until his weight was supported fully on his upper arms.
“…three, two, one. Now.”
Bobby let go of the roof and felt his body slide down the rough exterior. His legs buckled and he rolled back and away from the door.
Scrambling as quickly as he could, he crawled to the door and pulled it open. He pushed himself through and pulled the stray suspension lines behind him. He shut the door and collapsed against the interior wall. Slippy’s voice came back across the coms. “Security measures re-engaging in five, four, three—”
“I’m in,” Bobby huffed into the mic.
“You’re quick for an old man.” Gregg grinned as he scanned the security feed. “Okay, Bob, move forward and let me know when you’re at the stairwell door.”
Bobby groaned as he came to his feet and kicked the parachute to the corner. He worked his way slowly down the stairwell and tried to peer through the safety glass in the fire exit. “Standing by.”
“I’ve got nothing on the top floor so I’m assuming it’s empty. Unlocking the door…now.”
Bobby heard the lock click and he pulled the door open cautiously, peering down the hallway. He slipped inside and pulled the door shut. “Inside.”
“Okay buddy. It’s all you now. Deric and Jim should be entering at any time.”
Bridger groaned and tried to stretch the kinks from his neck. He glanced around the corner at the sea of cubicles. “In for a penny…”
Langley, VA
DARREN CHESTERFIELD PACED, waiting for the call that he knew could come at any moment. He swiped a hand across his unshaven face and bristled at the stubble he felt. He walked to the corner of his office and stared at the image in the mirror. He didn’t even recognize the face staring back at him.
His skin appeared ashen, dark circles enveloped his eyes and the stubble across his chin was riddled with grey that he had never noticed before. “You gotta find
