Leopole glanced at Dr. Mohammed. “That’s not funny, Bosco. The, ah, young man died three days ago.”
Leopole returned to pertinent matters. “Mission: to find and capture, if possible, the source of the virus. Mr. Wolf’s investigators have talked to the carrier’s family in California, and they learned that he was staying with a Pakistani doctor known as Ali. We don’t know if that’s his real name but we’re working both domestic and foreign intel sources.
“Op area: the most likely region is Baluchistan Province, on the Afghan border. Quetta, the capital, runs about 650,000 people. It’s headquarters of the Pakis’ XII Corps, nominally with two infantry divisions and supporting units plus police and border guards. I have street maps for everybody.”
The ops officer turned on his PowerPoint display and clicked on the first subject. Satellite imagery of the area appeared on the screen. “Terrain is what you’d expect: high and often steep. Median elevation is 5,500 MSL.
“Local situation: increased border security has gone into effect with some checkpoints as much as one klick apart. There’s usually long lines at the gateways but smugglers can nearly always get through. Drugs and weapons are the major contraband, though apparently some high-value assets have passed through. The border guards have been increased at each station but if the contraband is primo, it doesn’t add a lot to the overhead to grease two or three palms.
“Equipment: we’ll mainly take what the locals use. That means G3 rifles, Browning Highpower pistols, and some of our own special gear. Plan on suppressed MP-5s and a couple of precision rifles. Also nonlethal weapons including tasers and bean bags. Anybody who’s not checked out for their use, see Chuck. Night vision will also be issued.”
“Our contacts are supposed to provide suitable uniforms but we’ll have generic civilian clothes as well. Everybody start growing beards or mustaches. You’ll blend in better.
“Comm: two common channels plus one for each team. Standard voice-activated headsets to keep our hands free. The respirators have limited comm, so we’ll hold a couple of nonverbal refresher sessions. Because of the cross-border prospects, Dr. Mohammed is going with us. We don’t have anybody else readily available who’s conversant in both Urdu for Pakistan and Pashto in Afghanistan.”
Moahmmed interjected to pursue the linguistic concerns. “There are two Urdu dialects, northern and southern. The northern uses a
Leopole continued. “Navigation: the usual GPS sets but I’m taking a British Army terrain map. We’ll add the known threat areas before liftoff.
“Transport: most likely we’ll fly in and out, courtesy of the Paki army. We’re also trying to pre-position ground transport but that’s uncertain.” He smiled at J. J. Johnson, who had done a stretch in the Foreign Legion. “If we need to commandeer local vehicles, J. J. can hotwire anything from an ox cart to a T-72.”
“Casualties: Jeff and Jerry and Breezy are up to speed on combat medicine. We’ll probably have a guest medic for advice on the bio hazard but don’t know who yet. Personnel is trying to find somebody with scientific and field experience. Terry and his guys will be on hand for dustoff in case we need to air-evac. They’re studying the Hip manual and may get some stick time. At any rate, one of our guys will be aboard each Paki chopper.”
Leopole glanced at the screen and clicked on the next subject of his PowerPoint file. As an experienced staff officer, he preferred to show each topic in sequence to avoid his audience reading ahead of his commentary.
“Biohazard. As you’ve heard, the Marburg virus is a potential killer. We’re getting biological suits from Dr. Catterly and we’ll have a couple of trial runs so the entry teams know how to use them. We’re also taking a couple hundred gallons of bleach and disinfectant plus a portable generator to spray everything that enters a likely hot zone. We’ll burn the disposable portions of the suits as well as the hospital scrubs.”
Bosco raised a hand. “Uh, why scrubs?”
Leopole nodded toward Catterly, who responded. “Any bacteria can host a virus. So you’ll wear disposable scrubs with the bio suits but no underwear. I also recommend that you take several changes of clean clothes because there’s a slight risk in wearing the same material after possible exposure.”
The operators exchanged solemn glances. A few fidgeted in their seats. For once there was no joking.
“Friendly forces: we’ll take three teams. I’ll have Red; Steve has White, and Dan has Blue. Twelve men per team with six bio suits for each. The others will provide perimeter security and transport, and everybody helps with decontamination. Terry’s divided the flight crews into Black and Green.”
Steven Lee was a former army major with a two-inch-thick personnel file and two ex-wives. Other than Catterly, he was the only man in the room wearing glasses, which he described as “tactical eyewear.” Lee lived for action, forsaking his father’s computer fortune in San Francisco in favor of more exotic climes. He had operated in Afghanistan and spoke some Pashto. Leopole considered him the finest raid planner he had ever met.
Daniel Foyte was another divorced veteran. With two college-age daughters, he was originally drawn to SSI from the Marine Corps but soon found that he enjoyed working for Mike Derringer. His dossier showed seven years with Marine Force Recon, including four years as an instructor. Gunnery Sergeant Foyte and Lieutenant Colonel Leopole were closer than any other SSI operators. They had hunted, fished, hiked, and fought together. Every November 10th they observed their corps’ anniversary with quantities of adult beverages. SOP was to take a cab to their favorite bistro, tear a fifty-dollar bill in half, and give Ulysses S. Grant’s left half to the cabbie. He collected the president’s right half at the stroke of midnight.
Foyte waved a hand. “Colonel, who do we work with over there?”
Leopole almost smiled. In the presence of others, the former noncom was scrupulously formal when addressing former officers. In private, whether hunting in Nebraska or hiking the Blue Ridge, Leopole was “Frank” or “Hey maggot.”
“Coming to that, Dan. The admiral and Dr. Mohammed have contacts with our embassy and the Pakistani security force.” Intentional groans met that bit of intelligence. Nobody in the room had any faith in the United States State Department, and Islamabad’s ISI was known to sympathize with the
Leopole continued down his list. “Enemy forces: unknown. Our Pakistani doctor may or may not have a security detail. We’ll likely outnumber them but we can’t count on it. Anyway, the usual cautions apply. Take all the ammo you can carry and extra water. Local sources are always suspect.”
Steve Lee raised his pen. “How do we get to Pakistan? SS Air?”
Soft laughter tittered through the room.
“Affirm. We’ll use the company 727 and we’ll lease another bird, half the operators on each plane.” Nobody had to ask about the division of labor when SSI’s “Jurassic jet” could easily handle the full team with room left over. Too much was at stake for the Pandora Project to lose all its personnel in one plane crash.
“Now, obviously we need more information but time is crucial so we’re planning on wheels in the well day after tomorrow. Once the team is assembled in-country we’ll have updates from Mr. Wolf and his domestic ops staff. In fact, they’re in California right now, talking to the carrier’s family.” He surveyed the room. “Any other questions?”
Trying to redeem himself, Bosco asked, “Colonel, what about the medical aspects? I mean, if we’re dealing with some really bad shit, how do we handle it if we find these guys?”
Leopole sighed, almost audibly. What he was about to impart was a sore point. “The government won’t allow active-duty personnel on this job so our Pentagon liaison tried to find a Guard or Reserve member who’s knowledgeable about the disease and able to keep up with you guys. We ran out of time, so Dr. Catterly contacted the British immunologist who notified him. Apparently Dr.”—he checked his notes—”Dr. Padgett-Smith is a skier and mountain climber and she’s willing to go along.”
A low buzz flitted through the room. Bosco leaned over to Breezy. “Did he say
When the meeting broke up, some of the operators gathered around the coffee pot, thumbing through a U.S.
