“Fort Two, this is Vector. Situation.”
“We’ve chased a flight of MiGs away,” Chris told the Delta leader. “We’re proceeding north to check on A-1. We believe it may be their base.”
Breanna stared at the terrain ahead, rendered green and gray by the starscope panel. Mountains gave way to a dark black that would turn into the sea in about ten seconds. There was a road through the hills on the left. The base should be beyond that, over the next set of ridges just before the water.
“Fort Two, this is Vector. Advise us on the situation at A-1. Are you passengers there?”
“They’re nuts too,” said Chris over the interphone circuit. “We’re pushing this too far.”
“Vector, this is Fort Two,” said Breanna. “Stand by.”
She glanced quickly at the threat indicator. No radars.
“Chris, are you just nervous?”
“I’m not nervous, I’m sane,” he told her. “We’ve been flying for a shitload of time, just getting here. We’re flying over a base that launched four MiGs at us. You don’t think there are ground defenses?”
“We’ll see what defenses there are in a second,” said Breanna. “I won’t take unnecessary risks.”
She could practically hear his teeth grinding. But he nonetheless hunkered toward his display screen, where he selected the FLIR and began a close scan of the base, which was just now appearing beyond the hills.
“One Zeus antiair gun, right on the coastline. Machine guns, something, I don’t know, light, near the road. There’s a ship off shore. Tanker of something. No, no, I’m wrong – patrol boat. Has a gun. Bulldozers – man, this looks nothing like that satellite photo we saw.’
That was an understatement. The Iranians had expanded and widen the strip, making it nearly three times as long as it had been, undoubtedly strengthening it as well. They were building hangars at the far end. Three aircraft – two older MiG-21’s and one DC-8 or 707 – sat on a ramp area, their tails almost hanging over the water.
“Bus, other vehicles. I’m switching from the FLIR to the starscope. Shit – I have the F-117!” said Chris. “It’s moving. Shit, they’re loading it off a truck at the far end – no, they’re sliding down into a bunker. Shit. Shit. See it?”
“No,” said Breanna. “Can you target it?”
“Bay,” said Chris. “No, wait. No. They’re in the hangar. I can’t tell whether it’s concrete or not. I don’t think so. I don’t have a target point.”
Breanna nudged the stick to bank.
“I can’t be sure what that hangar’s made of,” said Chris. “It looks like it’s cement-reinforced.”
“Can you fly the JSOW into the hangar?”
“Maybe,” said her copilot. “The angle’s tough. I can hit it, but the missiles might not penetrate. I don’t know what’s inside, whether it’s all on the surface or if it’s like Dreamland’s hangars, with ramps and elevators.”
“That’s unlikely.”
“Yeah. But what do you figure the odds are our guys are with the plane?”
instead of answering, Breanna checked the threat scope again. There were no radars active. The Megafortress was slipping through the night undetected.
They might never have a chance like this again. If the wrecked plane was there, odds were their men were too.
On the other hand, there was no telling what sort of defenses the Iranians and Somalians had waiting.
Her instinct said go for it. She clicked the transmit button.
“Vector leader, here’s our situation,” she said, laying it out.
“We’re en route,” snapped the Delta commander. He patched in the pilots as Breanna had Chris sketch the base and approach.
“We’ll take out the Zeus as you come in,” Breanna said. “The hangar with the aircraft will be three thousand meters beyond it, close to the water.”
“We’ll hit it, take out the planes, and look for our guys.”
“Roger that.”
“ETA five minutes,” said the lead pilot. The two Ospreys were rushing through the mountain passes, heading for their target. “We’re going silent com.”
“Fort Two,” acknowledged Bree. She turned toward her copilot. “Hold one missile in reserve for the hangar if they can’t reach it.”
“Yeah. That’s what I was thinking.” Chris added. Then sighed so loud her earphones practically shattered. He sounded like a horse that had just lost its chance to run in the Derby. “Listen, I’m sorry about that emotion thing I said. I didn’t mean it.”
“We’re both tired,” she said, worried that his crack had been all too true.
Northern Somalia
23 October, 0445
The Osprey wheeled out of the hills just as the big antiaircraft gun at the edge of the base exploded. Skipping forward, the MHV-22 plopped herself down a few feet from the DC-8 at the edge of the ramp. Danny jumped from the rear of the plane behind Powder, and saw two figures running toward him; he pushed his trigger on his sub- machine gun and then men crumpled immediately.
“Fuel truck! Fuel truck!” Liu yelled behind him. Danny saw the tanker under the airliner’s wing. Bison had thrown himself in a crouch, aiming his SAW grenade launcher at the easy target.
“Don’t blow it! Don’t blow it!” Freah yelled. They were tasked with searching the plane before destroying it, in case the pilots and Marines were aboard already.”
“Somebody in the cockpit!” shouted Hernandez.
Gunfire erupted to his right, a short burst of automatic fire. Danny threw himself down as a flare ignited overhead. He heard the rumble of a heavy machine gun at the far end, saw the silhouette of an Osprey, the other Osprey, descending near the hangar.
There was a boarding ladder near the fuselage of the DC-8 less than twenty yards away. The door was open
