“The Americans came to the cave?”
“They did, my friend. They did indeed. At least five — maybe six.”
Ali gestured toward a rude chair. “Be seated, Kassim. Tell me more.” He reached for the teapot and began to pour.
“It went much as we planned, but better than most plans actually produce.” Kassim related the trail of hints and clues that had drawn the SSI team to the desired cave complex. “Awan and Nisar — the ones you met — waited with twelve kilos of explosives. One operative would have been sufficient but I convinced them that both had reached the time for Paradise.”
“Blessings be upon them.” Ali mouthed the words more perfunctorily than usual. His accomplice noted that the Samaritan tended toward minimizing such sacrifices of late. “Did the cave collapse?”
“My observer says that the mouth fell in. He watched the Americans trying to dig through the rubble for quite some time. Then he left when he heard a helicopter. But he counted at least five men entering the cave.”
Ali sipped some tea, not really tasting it. He was thinking downstream again, trying to stay at least one step ahead. “We will learn the actual number of dead infidels shortly. An event such as this cannot be kept secret for long — not at Quetta.”
Kassim leaned forward on the table. “Of course, this will only enrage the Crusaders. They will come after us harder than ever.”
“That is certain, brother.” Ali smiled.
The Hip air-taxied to the designated spot, then set down in response to the ramp director’s signal. Terry Keegan allowed the helo’s weight to settle onto its wheels, then began to shut down. Nobody approached the Mi-17 until the rotor nearly stopped. There was no hurry.
Leopole, Mohammed, and some others walked to the aircraft as an unmarked truck parked nearby. The Pakistani crew chief opened the helo’s door and turned back inside.
The first body bag was handed down.
SSI operators carefully loaded their six friends in the truck, which drove to the company’s hangar for temporary storage. Rustam Khan and Buster Hardesty had arranged for access to a civilian mortuary. They did not want a military facility to handle the casualties for security reasons. A certain handling fee offered better security than military protocol.
Padgett-Smith felt somehow obliged to witness the operation. She had seen the men enter the cave seconds before they died, but now with a start she noted that four of the rubber bags were marked “Human remains: nonviewable.”
Leopole appeared at her side. She inclined her body slightly toward him; he resisted the impulse to hug her. After an awkward silence he intoned, “It’s always like this. Sadness and anger.”
She nodded slowly, unable to turn her gaze from the six forms. “I suppose it must be.” Finally she looked up at him. “My god, Frank. Whatever will you tell their families?”
The former Marine emptied his lungs, his cheeks sagging inward. “Fortunately, I don’t have to handle that chore. The admiral probably will do it. He always has in the past.”
Padgett-Smith worked up the nerve to ask, “Have there been many others?”
He fixed his gaze on her. “This almost doubles the previous figure. It’s not many, considering all the man- days we’ve logged over the years. But if you’re the one going home in a box…”
“Yes.” She touched his arm.
18
“Whatchutink, Gunny?”
Foyte shot a frosty DI glare at Bosco, then turned back to the compact Zeiss binoculars. Ordinarily Foyte would not choose to affiliate with the brash ex-ranger, but Bosco was SSI’s rappel master. And the cliff face before them screamed for rappelling expertise.
“I think there’s only one frigging way into that cave,” Foyte allowed, fine-tuning the focus knob. Even from half a mile away, the gaping entrance looked large — Foyte estimated its width at thirty meters or more — but the approach offered any occupants a beautiful field of fire. The slight incline would expose attackers to both direct and grazing fire, depending on the defenders’ deployment.
Foyte rolled onto his back and eased himself off the narrow saddleback. Bosco followed, notebook in hand. At the bottom they consulted with the others.
“It’s like we thought, Colonel.” Foyte addressed Leopole. “No way to get close without being seen unless they’re drunk or asleep. Boscombe’s sketched the layout. It’s gotta be a vertical assault.”
Bosco laid his notebook on a rock so the others could see. “I think we can get two teams down there at once. I’ll know more when I re-con the top, but there’s at least one good-sized boulder to secure a petzl stop. I’d prefer a tree but there’s none in sight. The other team may have to rope off of some expanding bolts. If the rock over there is like this stuff here, it’ll hold.”
Leopole nodded. “Roger that. So we’re talking about eight assaulters?”
“Right,” Bosco replied. He only used
Foyte caught Leopole’s attention. “That makes sense to me, Colonel. We don’t know how big that cave is or how many people might be there.”
“All right. That’s eight men from the top and six or eight from below. The rest of Red Team will provide security so that should do.”
Frank Leopole conducted the final briefing that afternoon. He stood before a large sketch of the cave, showing the top of the hill and the approaches. The operators were seated on the ground or standing for a better view. “All right, people, listen up. Paki intel says this cave complex is currently being used. Major Khan passed reports to us indicating recent activity, so we treat it as hot.” He pointed out the terrain features. “Here’s the drill. Because of the exposed terrain leading to the cave, we have to assault down the cliff face to achieve surprise.” Audible groans skittered through the audience but he ignored them. Tracing the distance from the cave to the crest, he continued. “It’s about sixty feet from the top, and we’ll use two teams: one on each side of the mouth. You rappellers — remember to take your leg bags so you don’t drop the ends of your lines and warn the gomers inside. I’ll coordinate by radio so we’ll have a comm and equipment check before we go. Bosco is running the show on top; Gunny will take the ground element.” He nodded at Foyte. “We go at 0715.”
Breezy waved a hand. “Sir, wouldn’t we have a better chance of surprising them if we went at dawn? Maybe catch ‘em praying or something?”
“Ordinarily I’d agree with you,” Leopole said. “It’s always advisable to take advantage of enemy habit patterns. But none of us have ever worked this area, and we can’t afford to go stumbling around in the dark. Also, I don’t want to spend any more time than necessary scouting the terrain. If we get caught in the open, we’re in deep serious.”
Jeff Malten called from the back row. “Sir, do we take bio suits?”
“Negative. There’s no reason to believe there’s any hazard in this remote area, unless it’s naturally occurring, and there’s no indication of that. But Dr. Padgett-Smith will be on hand in case you find anything suspicious, and Dr. Mohammed will conduct the interrogation.” He surveyed the crowd. “Anything else?”
Nobody responded, so Leopole wrapped it up. “Remember the objective, people: we want prisoners.
Foyte stood up to complete the briefing. “Listen up! We saddle up at 0500 and drive within two klicks of the objective. The rappelling teams won’t move into position until the security element is in place, so the schedule might slip somewhat. If so, Colonel Leopole will coordinate by radio.” He glanced at his watch. “Equipment check in
