Sword of God

Today's number one goal was to prevent that from happening.

His contact walked across the dining hall like he had worked there for years. He certainly looked the part, wearing the same greasy white apron as the kitchen staff while doing all the things that a good worker should. He pushed in chairs. He rearranged condiments. He stacked dirty dishes in a plastic bin. All of this seemed ordinary- even to Nasir, who was looking for him. Yet none of his actions seemed out of place. Even his approach to his table was normal.

He pointed to the glass of water. 'You done with that, or will you be eating something?'

It took a moment for the question to register. When it did, Nasir's heart skipped a beat. It was the code they had agreed upon. This was his contact, for a moment, he forgot how he was supposed to respond. Then it came to him. 'I don't know. Is it safe eating here?'

'I eat here every clay and I'm still breathing.' A huge smile filled his face. 'Our food ain't fancy, but it's better than eating camel.'

The man reached into his apron's pouch and pulled out a take-out menu, which he casually handed to Nasir. At least that's how it appeared to the guards who were monitoring the dining hall via security cameras. This was the twelfth menu he had handed out during his shift, so his action appeared innocuous. No reason for any alarm or concern.

Of course, the guards couldn't see what was hidden inside. It was the reason Nasir had risked his life to visit Al-Gaim. The reason why all that money had been given to him and why this handoff was taking place in the middle of a U.S. military compound.

As amazing as it seemed, the menu was the key to everything.

5

U.S. Army Base, Kwajalein

Republic of the Marshall Islands

(2,136 miles southwest of Hawaii)

After being briefed by Colonel Harrington, Payne and Jones slept for an entire day-at least according to the calendar. In reality, they took a four-hour nap during their flight from Hawaii to the Marshall Islands but crossed the International Date Line (longitude 180°) in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, a spot halfway around the world from Greenwich, England.

So far their mission had gone as planned, flying from Pittsburgh to L.A. to Honolulu without any delays. They might have been a few years removed from the military, yet Payne and Jones were seasoned veterans when it came to long trips. They knew when to eat, when to sleep, and when to piss-all in order to hit the ground running. Most travelers would have bitched and moaned about spending so much time in the air, but not them. They were so accustomed to jumping out of planes in the dead of night, not knowing if they were ever going to see the sunrise again, that they viewed this trip as luxurious.

No parachutes or drop zones. Just pillows and playing cards.

Technically, the Marshall Islands is a sovereign nation that signed a Compact of Free Association with the United States in 1986. But that's just fancy political talk. In simple terms, the United States has full authority and responsibility to protect the Marshall Islands. In return, the U.S. Department of Defense was given use of the Kwajalein Atoll, which consists of ninety islets and one of the largest lagoons in the world, and allowed to lease eleven nearby islands for the Ronald Reagan Ballistic Missile Defense Test Site-also known as the Reagan Test Site, or RTS. This Pacific weapons site is a vital cog in America's defense system, not only because of its strategic location but also because of its sophisticated research technology.

Once the plane touched down, Jones grabbed one of his bags and headed for the front hatch. 'How long do we have to kill?'

Payne shrugged, trailing his partner. 'A few hours. They're making final arrangements.'

The duo stepped into the warm night and glanced around the semideserted airfield. Bright lights shone in the distance, highlighting the periphery of the fence line. A tropical wind blew across the tarmac, kicking up the scent of jet fuel and burned tire. It was a smell they remembered well. Not quite as sexy as napalm in the morning, but memorable nonetheless.

A young woman with Asian features and dark hair stood at the bottom of the plane stairs. She wore a khaki skirt and an open-collared white blouse that danced around her petite frame in the gentle breeze. It was the middle of the night, yet she had a smile on her face and a gleam in her eyes that said she was honored to be there. 'Welcome to the Marshall Islands.'

To Jones, this was a pleasant surprise. He wasn't expecting a welcoming committee.

'Aloha!' he said as he kissed her on both cheeks, a common greeting in Hawaiian airports. 'Or however you say hello in Marshallese.'

The woman's cheeks flushed, an equal mixture of anger and embarrassment. The smile that was present a moment before was replaced with an angry growl. This was not the delicate lotus blossom that Jones had first perceived. She was a typhoon to be reckoned with.

'Why in the world did you kiss me?' she demanded while poking Jones in the chest. 'Just because I have an island complexion you automatically assume I'm some kind of air tramp ready to give you a lei. Do you see any flowers in my hand? Do you hear any Don Ho music?'

'Ah, crap,' Payne mumbled, trying not to laugh.

'You're in the middle of a U.S. Army base, not on some island tour. What is wrong with you?' It was a rhetorical question. 'While you're in my presence, I expect to be treated with the respect I deserve or else we will stop dealing with each other and I will file sanctions with the base commander. Have I made myself clear?'

Jones nodded, completely mortified. 'Yes, ma'am.'

'I'm a soldier, not a tart.'

'Sorry, ma'am, I didn't mean to imply …' He stopped in the middle of his sentence. 'You're right. I'm sorry. I was completely out of line.'

She glared at him for a moment longer before nodding her head. 'Fine. Apology accepted.'

Without delay, she brushed past Jones and stopped in front of Payne, giving him a quick salute. 'Captain Payne, it is an honor to work with you. I know you weren't used to working with women in the Special Forces, but I swear I'll be of great assistance to you.'

A look of confusion filled Payne's face. 'In what way?'

'Wait,' she said. 'You mean, you don't know? I'll be joining you on your mission.'

'Excuse me?'

'I'll be joining-'

Payne signaled her to stop. 'Yeah, I heard you the first time.'

Puzzled by the news, Payne glanced at Jones, who gave him a shrug from a very safe distance. No way he was going to reenter mis conversation. Besides, it was obvious he had no idea who she was either, or he wouldn't have kissed her. At this point the only thing Jones knew was that she was a soldier, not a tart. And since Payne already possessed that intel, Jones did the smart thing and retreated to the safety of the hangar.

Payne growled to himself. 'What did you say your name was?'

'Choi. Sergeant Kia Choi. U.S. Army.'

'And who assigned you to my team?'

'Colonel Harrington, sir.'

'Really? In what capacity?'

'Full capacity, sir.'

He shook his head. 'That's not what I meant. What's your skill set? Your specialty?'

'Oh,' she said, embarrassed. 'It's linguistics. I'll be serving as your translator.'

'My translator? Damn, Sergeant, why didn't you say so?' He handed her one of his bags, letting her know that she was going to be treated like any other member of his squad. 'I hope to hell you know a lot of swear words, because we cuss a lot.'

'Don't worry, sir. I know them all.'

Payne dumped his gear inside the hangar, then followed Kia to an army jeep that had been built for World War