Tom Clancy: Command Authority

Clark nodded, and he understood why Midas had come to talk to him. He said, “I’ve got three tier-one-level shooters. The two you met the other day and another guy, who was a Ranger. You can insert your men to grab Nesterov, and my boys will take care of the helos and be ready to support the Unit teams in the hotel if necessary.”

Midas said, “I appreciate it. One question: How are your boys fixed for weaponry?”

Clark answered, “Hey, man. I’ll provide the labor. You are the U.S. Army. You can provide the guns and bullets.”

“Fair enough. I’ll see what I can scare up that might be helpful.”

When the Gulfstream landed twenty minutes later, John Clark boarded and explained the situation to his men. Sam, Dom, and Ding were ready to go immediately, of course, but Clark knew he’d have to deal with something else first.

Jack Ryan said, “John, one more gun on that roof might make a difference.”

“Sorry, Jack. I can’t let you go on this.”

“And why is that?”

“You know why. You can’t compromise your dad by exposing yourself like this. Even with your beard, you might be recognized by Delta boys. It’s one thing to operate for The Campus, but you can’t just mix in with military, not even black-side guys like Delta.”

Ryan turned to Chavez, looking for a confederate to help him make his case.

But Ding said, “John’s right, and on top of that, we’ve been training the last few months. You’ve been away from the team. This is going to be an in extremis rush job, and we need to be tight and smooth whatever goes down.”

Dom reached over and squeezed Jack’s shoulder. “Come back to the States with us when this is over. We’ll get you trained in no time.”

Ryan nodded. Not satisfied that he’d have to stay back here at the airport while the operation went on in the city, but resigned to the fact.

While Clark met with his men, Midas arrived at the Kiowa Warrior section of the flight line. He found Conway and Page lying on sleeping bags in the corner of a dry-goods storage room next to the cafeteria. Both men were in full combat gear, they even had their boots on, but they were trying to catch an hour of sleep before their next mission.

They were awake now, though, and both young men stood when Midas approached.

Midas said, “Evening, chiefs. Dumb question. Do you guys have the capability to carry troops?”

Conway rubbed his eyes. “Yes. We’ve got a thing called the Multi-Purpose Light Helicopter kit. We can take off our weapons pylons and attach benches so we can carry up to six guys on the outside of the fuselage.”

“Have you ever done that before?”

The two young men looked at each other. Conway shook his head. “Never.”

“Well, this will be a new experience for everyone, I imagine. We’re going to need you to insert men onto a roof. We don’t think the opposition has any real air defense other than assault rifles and maybe RPGs, but we’ll have to go in without much of a picture of the terrain.”

He then sat down with the men and told them exactly what he needed. When he was finished, he said, “I can’t make you do this, and it’s going to be pretty much the definition of dangerous, but that’s the deal.”

Page and Conway exchanged a look, and Conway spoke for both men, confident he was expressing Dre Page’s sentiments as well as his own: “We’re good to go, Midas. We’ll get the helo outfitted for the op.”

Midas shook both men’s hands and then hurried back to the JOC. He still had a hell of a lot to do.

The grass field helicopter flight line at the JSOC base on the northern end of Kiev’s Boryspil International Airport was alive with activity at one a.m.

Two MH-6 Little Birds already had their rotors turning, and Black Wolf Two Six, the Kiowa Warrior operated by Conway and Page, had already gone through its preflight checklist, although the pilots were still in Flight Ops getting last-minute intel.

Both Ding Chavez and Sam Driscoll had sat on the outside of a moving helicopter before. Dominic Caruso, on the other hand, had not, nor had he ever had much of a desire to.

He saw the tiny little bench bolted onto the side of the Kiowa, and he realized this was where he was supposed to sit. Then he saw the small restraining cable that would hook to his body armor to keep him from plummeting to his death, and his first thought was No fucking way .

He looked at Ding. “I’ve got a better idea. How ’bout I take a bus and catch up with you guys?”

Ding patted him on the pack. “Mano, I learned a trick a long time ago. I just strap myself in, then I tell myself I’m watching a really awesome movie on a really awesome big-screen TV with a really awesome audio system.”

Caruso looked at him doubtfully. “And that works?”

Chavez shrugged noncommittally. “It did when I was young and dumb.” With a wink, he added, “You should give it a try.”

As the three men strapped themselves in, two figures in dark uniforms and body armor walked over from the JOC building. From the HK416s on their shoulders, it was obvious they were Delta Force operators.

One of the men looked at the Kiowa. “We drew the short straws, so it looks like we’re on the other side of this old piece of shit.” He shook Ding’s, Dom’s, and Sam’s gloved hands with a gloved hand of his own, and the other Delta man did the same.

“Who are you guys?” one of the Delta Force men asked Chavez.

Ding smiled. “You are probably more used to people asking you that.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Do you ever answer that question?”

The man shook his head. “Negative.”

“Well, then,” Ding said. “There you go.”

There was an obvious presumption by the Delta Force operatives that Ding and his men were CIA Special Activities Division officers, which was exactly what Clark and Chavez used to be. Chavez did nothing to dispel this notion, and Clark had even mentioned that Midas was on board with keeping up this ruse with his men.

Before the Delta operators went to the other side of the helo, Conway and Page came out of Flight Ops and introduced themselves to the men they would be flying in to the operation.

Conway said, “We’re going to depart to the southwest, away from the city. We’ll be right behind the two MH-6s. We’ll pick up the Dnieper River and then turn to the north, go low and shoot straight up into Kiev. With the route we’re going to take, it will be thirty-one miles to the target. We are going to do everything we can to keep everyone from knowing who we are, where we are going, and what we are up to.

“That means we’re going to fly really fucking low and really fucking fast. I just want to let you dudes know, this is going to be a wild ride. You see bridges or power lines in our path, then it’s a good bet I see them, too, so don’t freak out.”

The five men just nodded back at the helo pilot. Dom Caruso’s nod was the least sure of them all.

Conway continued, “Like I said, we’re going in behind the Little Birds, but I’m not a Night Stalker and this is not a Little Bird, so if they have some capabilities to keep the men on the outside of their aircraft from shitting their pants and puking up their MREs, then the guys on the other helos will be better off than you, because, frankly, I’ve never done this before.”

Caruso was already turning green with the thought of what was to come.

Ding said, “Don’t worry about us. We’ll be strapped in. As long as you don’t slam this into a wall or into the ground, then we’ll be okay.”

Conway nodded. “When we get there, the guys on the other helos will fast-rope to the roof exits and the Little Birds will get out of the way. I’ll land on the roof, and when I do, I want you guys off my helo PDQ. I’ll take off and head back over the river, and I’ll wait for your comms to come back and pick you up.”