“They sound like friends.”

  Clancy turned toward her. “What was that?”

  She flinched. “Sorry. I didn’t realize I said that out loud. I said, they sound like friends.”

  “They are, in a way. You have to realize how many ops they’ve done together, and some of them have even met. Also, Control Actual is quite young, youngest ever at the CIA. He runs things a little looser than someone my age might.”

  “So, all CIA ops don’t sound like this?”

  Clancy chuckled. “Nope. But if you want the best, sometimes you have to accept different ways of thinking. Don’t mistake their familiarity with a lack of professionalism, and definitely don’t associate it with a lack of capability. I’ve always felt that having those under your command fear you might be good for your ego, but it doesn’t necessarily bring the best out of your people. If they don’t fear you but respect you, believe you have their back if something goes wrong, they’re far more likely to work their ass off for you. They go above and beyond for someone they like rather than fear.”

  She smiled at him. “I hope you know, sir, that BD and the others truly respect you and like you.”

  He returned the smile. “I appreciate that.”

  “Sir, One-One and Zero-Seven have cleared the city limits.”

  Clancy acknowledged the report from the ops center coordinator. “How many vehicles have they secured at Sierra and Tango sites?”

  “Tango has three so far, with three to go. Sierra has eight, with one left to go. Langley has redirected the Aussie team to send anything they acquire to Tango.”

  “Good thinking on their part. So, we have eleven vehicles so far?”

  “Yes, sir. Just four more needed.”

  “ETA on the Russians?”

  “Less than forty-five minutes.”

  Clancy cursed. “We’re cutting this way too close.”

  50 |

  Operations Center 2, CIA Headquarters Langley, Virginia

  “That’s fifteen vehicles!” announced Packman, and cheers erupted through the ops center, hands clapping.

  Leroux smiled. “And a job well done, not just by those coordinating the effort here, but by the twenty operators plus Jack, Sherrie, and Sammy on the ground.” He smacked his hands together as he rose. “Good job everyone. We’ve now secured enough transport to get our people in and out, but we still have one more location to find and we still have that nasty Russian problem, which is arriving in…”

  Tong turned. “Twenty-two minutes.”

  “Do we know yet where they’re landing, or even if they’re landing?”

  “They’re on their final descent, so they’re definitely landing. Looks like they’re not bothering with a HALO jump like Sherrie had to do. Assuming they’re landing, there is an airstrip just north of the city. It’s abandoned, but the runway is still serviceable. They appear to be on a direct course for it.”

  “Do we have eyes on it?”

  Tong tapped her workstation then gestured toward the main display, a new image appearing. “Yes. It doesn’t look like there’s anybody there, at least not yet.”

  Child leaned forward. “That’s not good, right? I mean, if they were coming in for a handover, they’d have some sort of welcoming party. But if they’re coming in for an assault that no one knows about, we’d expect no one to be there.”

  Leroux agreed. “True. Any sign of activity at location Bravo?”

  “Nothing yet.” Tong brought up the feed from the drone assigned to what, for the moment, was the most important target location.

  “What’s the driving distance between there and that airstrip?”

  “It’s only seven minutes. It’s the closest to the airstrip.”

  Packman folded his arms. “Now that’s interesting. Coincidence, or did they think this might happen?”

  Leroux knew what he meant but always liked to have his people play things out so they could gain experience and fill in those on the team not thinking the same way. “Explain.”

  “Well, they went into this knowing they were taking hostages, and they took three per boat. Not three on some, two on others. It was three per. So that was planned. They had to know in the heat of the moment they couldn’t be sure about nationalities and they wouldn’t want to piss off their allies. The only mistake they made were those two Russians. So, if I’m them, I assign them to the location nearest that airstrip. That way, if any arrangements have to be made for handovers, things are a lot easier.”

  Leroux nodded in appreciation. “Sounds reasonable to me. And if that’s the case, we’re talking a handover, not an assault. But right now, we can’t make assumptions.” He turned to Tong. “Signal the teams to start heading in, but no one goes until my order.”

  “Signaling them now.” Tong activated her comms as Leroux sent a message to Morrison.

  Russian ETA 21 minutes. Deploying rescue teams to staging areas now.

  51 |

  Rally Point Sierra Outside Sana’a, Yemen

  “Control to all teams. Operation Guardian Angel is a go. I repeat, Operation Guardian Angel is a go. Proceed to your staging points and hold for further orders. I repeat, proceed to your staging points and hold for further orders. Russian ETA, twenty-one minutes. All teams acknowledge, over.”

  Dawson whirled his hand over his head. “Bravo Team acknowledges. Proceeding to staging point.”

  The acknowledgment from the SEAL team and the Aussie-led team followed as thirty-six operators from two different nations at Rally Point Sierra climbed into their vehicles along with Jack and Sherrie in Sammy’s car.

  Dawson sat in the passenger seat of the SUV, Atlas driving, the big man punching it the moment the last door shut. “This is Bravo Zero-One to all teams. Remember to stagger your departures. Ten vehicles all in a row are going to raise eyebrows. Bravo Team, we’re first since we have the farthest to go. Alpha, you’re next then Charlie. Good luck everyone.”

  Acknowledgements from each of the vehicles came in as Atlas took the lead, heavy on the gas as they raced along a dirt road toward a paved highway two klicks away. They couldn’t be clustered, but no one said they had to obey speed limits.

  “Everybody, keep your weapons out of sight and keep your faces covered. I don’t care if we’ve got tinted windows, the windshield isn’t. If anyone gets a good look in, they’ll make us in a heartbeat. Especially you Jimmy. My God, can you be any whiter?”

  Jimmy shrugged. “Hey, skin cancer runs in my family, so I wear a lot of sunscreen.”

  “Get an artificial tan,” rumbled Atlas as he turned onto the highway, flooring it once again, pressing them all into the back of their seats.

  “I always find it looks unnatural. Who the hell wants to go through life looking orange?”

  “Nobody said you had to look like Carrot Top. Just a hint of color so we can see you on the sheets.”

  Jimmy gave Dawson a look. “That sounds like something Niner would say.”

  Atlas leaped to his friend’s defense. “Hey, he’s my sexual harasser. Hands off.”

  Laughter filled the cabin as they rapidly approached the capital city of the hellhole that was Yemen, Dawson joining in on the comradery. Tension relief before the beginning of a mission set everyone at ease, taking their minds off the fact they might kill someone in the next few minutes.

  Or worse, might get killed themselves.

  Atlas passed an ox cart then took his foot off the gas as they entered the city, Control in his ear on a separate frequency guiding him in.

  “ETA to staging point?” asked Dawson.

  “The voice in my ear says seven minutes.”

  “Copy that. Keep a good pace but take it easy. Last thing we need is to get into a car accident on our way in.”

  “Never been in one that wasn’t intentional. You’re in good hands.”

  “I have no doubt. Don’t get cocky. Shit happens to the best of us.”

  “So, what you’re saying is I’m the best of us.”

  Dawson gave him a look. “What did I say about getting cocky?”

  52 |

  Operations Center 2, CIA Headquarters Langley, Virginia

  “We’ve got activity.”

  Leroux looked up from his station, Tong jerking her chin toward the display.

  “Three vehicles just pulled up to the target site.”

  Leroux watched as they came to a stop, doors opening and gunmen stepping out, sending the locals scattering. “Status on the Russians?”

  “Nine minutes. They’re definitely landing.”

  “Two minutes to spare. But let’s not jump to conclusions. For all we know, this is a grocery delivery. And don’t get distracted. Keep looking for that fifth site. We’ve got three young women out there that I don’t want to leave behind because we took a couple of minutes to watch what was going on.”

  “Don’t worry, boss. We’re still on it,” said Therrien.

  Leroux shoved a thumb in the air. “I knew I could count on you.”

  The front door to the building opened and two men appeared, looking in both directions before beckoning inside. Two people dressed in burkas were led out then pushed into the back seat of the middle vehicle. The terrorists sent to execute the handover climbed back in their rides, doors shut, then the mini motorcade peeled away in a cloud of dust.

  Leroux cursed. “Can everyone confirm they saw only two people in burkas?”

  A string of confirmations rippled through the operations center. It meant the Russian scum hadn’t negotiated the release of the French woman being held with their citizens. It disgusted him. Never could he see his government doing the same thing. Innocent was innocent, no matter what the nationality.

  “Does it look like they’re heading for the airport?”

  Tong confirmed it. “So far.”

  “Good. Keep an eye on them. Let me know if there’s any deviation. Status on the Russians?”

  “Still descending. Six minutes.”

  “Copy that. Signal all teams to hold until we can confirm the exchange is actually happening.”

  “Signaling the teams now.”

  He checked the map of the city, blue dots scattered across it showing the positions of their people, everything in motion rapidly coming to a halt as they received their new orders to hold. Everyone held their breath, or at least he did, watching the multiple feeds. One showed the status of the Russian transport carrying the Spetsnaz team, whose intentions couldn’t be confirmed. Assumptions got people killed, and they had to prepare for the worst. There could be a handover planned, but the Russians couldn’t be trusted. They might take their people then kill those responsible for taking them in the first place, especially if the women had been raped. That could trigger a response at the other sites, and it was something that he hadn’t considered until just now.

  He snapped his fingers. “Get them back en route to their staging areas. The Russians might pull a double-cross.”

  Tong’s eyes bulged as she hurriedly delivered the new order, the dots on the screen quickly underway again. He just hoped he hadn’t screwed up for failing to heed one of the cardinal rules.

  Never trust the Russians.

  53 |

  En Route to Staging Area Charlie Sana’a, Yemen

  Atlas glanced over at Dawson. “What the hell do you think that was all about?”

  “I’m guessing they thought they’d wait and see if the handover did happen, then had second thoughts on whether it would go smoothly.”

  “Or they know something we don’t know.”

  Dawson grunted. “They always know something we don’t know.” He tapped his watch. “You know what I said about being careful?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Forget about it. We’ve got sixty seconds to make up for.” He activated his comms. “This is Bravo Zero-One to all teams. We’ve got sixty seconds to make up for, so put a wiggle on it. As soon as you’re at your staging points, make sure you’re prepared to proceed immediately if things go south at the Russian handover. I don’t want to waste a second.”

  Acknowledgements came in as Atlas guided them toward their destination a little quicker than before. Their staging areas were sixty seconds away from the hostage sites. That meant breaching approximately one minute after the go ahead. But then they had no clue what was inside. They had no plans for any of these buildings and only two, so far, had windows. Micro drones planted on the glass had given them nothing of use. The windows were painted black so the cameras couldn’t see inside, and the sensors monitoring the vibrations in the glass had picked up nothing useful.

  It had him and the others convinced that everything they would be dealing with would be underground. That could mean prepared defenses, choke points, perhaps years’ worth of defensive planning. They were likely heading into a death trap with the added complication of worrying about hitting innocent hostages. Fortunately, they trained for this constantly, and that training would get them through it, hopefully quickly enough that they could save the innocent victims before they could be executed.

  54 |

  Location Charlie Sana’a, Yemen

  Mohammad Al-Sabri sat behind his desk, his cellphone pressed to his ear, the signal relayed to the surface. His men had screwed up. He had screwed up. They weren’t supposed to take any Russians or Iranians. Fortunately, there were no reports of Iranians on board the MS Horizon, but there had been Russians. It was one thing to kill them. After all, they were still infidels. It was another thing to take them hostage and rape them repeatedly. Yes, the Koran allowed it, but their deal with Iran didn’t.

  Iran funded them with few conditions. And when they approved the plans for this operation, they had only two stipulations. No Iranians. No Russians. They had also advised against touching the Chinese because they were unpredictable. He had ignored that one. He didn’t care about what the Chinese thought. They were just like everyone else. They might send a few missiles their way to make a political statement, to tell their population they had exacted a price on what they would no doubt characterize as a terrorist attack, when, in fact, it was a blow struck in the name of freedom.

  He listened to his most trusted men and best friend, Ahmed Al-Ahmar, transporting the Russian hostages to the airport under heavy escort. He had given orders for only one man to be present for the handover. Everyone else was to hold back, off airport grounds. He didn’t trust the Russians at all, and if they betrayed them, he only wanted one life lost.

  His friend, one of the bravest of Allah’s warriors that he had ever known, had volunteered. As much as he didn’t want his friend to die, he would never deny him the honor of dying for the cause in Jihad against the West and the infidels that dominated too much of the world.

  The question was, what to do about it? If they did betray his men, they didn’t have many options. He could send in the rest of his team to attack the plane, but the likelihood of them succeeding against what was no doubt a Russian Spetsnaz unit, were next to nothing. Though they would die in glorious battle guaranteeing their entrance into Jannah, he needed those men. He needed warriors, and sending them to die for no reason, for no benefit to the cause, would be wasteful.

  Yesterday’s action was merely the beginning. After Hamas’ glorious success, they had proudly declared they would repeat their actions again and again until the state of Israel and its people were removed from the map. And just like Hamas, the Houthi had no intention of stopping. Thanks to Iranian financing and fundraising efforts around the world swelling their coffers since October 7th, their capabilities continued to increase.

  He and other leaders like him had ambitions that reached far into the future. They wanted complete control of Yemen, missile capabilities that could not only cover the entire region, but reach into Europe, and eventually a navy and air force, just like any coastal nation was entitled to. They would rule according to the Koran, creating an Islamic paradise that would attract the best and brightest from around the world. It would be a new beginning for the dream of the global caliphate.

  But to succeed, it meant they had to rid themselves of Zionist and Western interference, and that meant making life untenable for them. They needed more rockets so they could continually target Western ships. The more they did so, the more likely they would eventually abandon the area, leaving his people alone to build the Islamic empire that would eventually rule the world. He doubted he would be alive to see the day, though perhaps his children or grandchildren would.

  “I’m entering the airport grounds now.”

  “What do you see?”

  “The Russian plane has just landed and is still taxiing. It looks like they’re heading to the end of the runway and turning around.”

  “Hold your position at the edge of the runway. Wait for them to stop and signal.”

  “Holding position. The plane’s turning now. My friend, if I don’t make it, tell my family my final thoughts were of them and of the prophet, peace be upon him, for whom I gave my life.”

  Al-Sabri squeezed his eyes shut, the burn intense. “I will make sure they know, my friend. And should you die today, you will be avenged, and eventually we will meet again in Jannah and enjoy the rewards promised us. It will be a glorious day.”

  “Yes, it will. The plane has turned and has now stopped. The rear cargo bay is opening. Here they come. I count at least ten. No, make that twenty heavily armed, probably Spetsnaz, like you said. They’re taking up positions around the plane. All right, they’re signaling to me now.”

  “Good luck, my brother. We’ll see you soon.”

  But it was a lie. He knew it. There was no way, if the Russians discovered what had happened to their women, his friend was leaving that airport alive.

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20