Steve Abbott - Devil's Gambit

“So, how do you guys put it? What’s the flap?” Hunter said.

Now it was Sean’s turn to shake his head. “Not here. This stuff is way too hot. Can we kick the pilots off the flight deck for about an hour?”

Hunter looked grim. “That bad huh.” He tugged at Sean’s arm. “Hell, if it’s gonna be my ass I sure as hell don’t see why not.” Hunter turned around and shouted to his Second in Command. “Dice. I have to go talk to the Sergeant here. If you see another asshole dressed like him going through our gear, shoot him.”

Dice smiled and turned back to what he was doing.

Sean followed Hunter towards the front of the aircraft. He saw a SEAL field stripping one of the navy MP5N submachine guns. “Nice to see you still get all of the nice toys.”

Hunter glanced over. “Oh those? Yeah, we just got them a while back. It’s a sweet bit of gear. You guys still using the Armalites?”

“They work well. Our MP5s are a little different of course. They just gave us the 10mm version to play with.”

Hunter’s eyebrows perked up. “How’s that one to fire?”

“Very nice. Better stopping power as well. I’m tempted to favor them over the 9mm. Besides, with the way your lot sucks up the ammo, it’s easier for me to get brass for them.”

Hunter climbed the short stairs to the flight deck and went through the small bulkhead door. Snippets of mumbled conversation drifted through the thin aluminum barrier. The flight crew emerged, climbed down the stairs and walked outside. Sean clambered up to talk to Hunter.

The Seal Commander was sitting in the pilot’s chair. Sean sat down next to him in the copilot position. Hunter twisted sideways so he could watch Sean’s face. “So spill it. Mission objectives and most important, what are we up against?”

Sean took a deep breath. “It’s not good. The NKs managed to steal three SCUD warheads from a Russian base. Tactical warheads, Bob. Their latest stuff. How doesn’t really matter at this stage. The warheads are on a sub. It managed to get by your Navy’s picket line and our main intel asset feels they are going to offload the units at the port of Chanjon. Photo reconnaissance of some anti-air stuff that sprung up overnight by one of your stealth drones backs this theory up. The Whitehouse and Whitehall have called for complete and assured destruction of the warheads’ arming, detonation and guidance units. The Russians and their lot have agreed. It’s a complete balls up, Bob. We could hit the sub in port with some of your stealth fighters out of Pusan during the unload, but the men in suits want confirmation.” Sean stared out of the cockpit window. “Hands-on confirmation. They want us to take the units out in person.”

Hunter stayed silent for a long time as he worked things through in his head. “So what’s the catch?”

Sean’s left hand moved over the copilot flight yoke contours. “We’re completely deniable. If this turns to a ball of shit, nobody knows anything. Not us, not the Koreans, nobody.”

And then came the last question; the only one that mattered. “Mission survivability?”

Sean just shook his head. “Your guess is as good as mine. The odds are against us on this one.” Sean shrugged. “I still think it can be done with the right set of lads.”

Hunter’s jaw took on a firm set. “I see.” The SEAL let out a low, deadly chuckle. “Well, it’s not the first time we’ve had shit odds.”

Sean wanted to smile but couldn’t.

Hunter reached inside his battledress tunic and pulled out a slim flask. “Personally, I hate the waiting.” He uncapped the flask and took a long swallow.

Sean took the flask from Hunter’s outstretched hand. It was bourbon. He took another swig to keep the first company. “I hate the waiting too.” The flask was passed back. “But what I really fucking hate is the insertion. Take offs and landings. They give me the bloody willies. I’ve never gotten used to my life being in the hands of somebody else.”

The cabin grew quiet as each man lost himself in the past for a moment. Faces and places long forgotten, dead men best left at rest. Each one, in some way, a personal failure.

Hunter broke the reverie with another question. “What do we have for support?”

Sean was glad to get back to business. “Your two Hinds, for starters. They’re going to paint them up in North Korean colors as soon as they’re put back together. There’s a huge power grid to the North of the town and a rail nexus pretty close to that. One of the cruisers in the Straits is going to take care of them with cruise missiles. If we could guarantee a night op, a couple of your stealth fighters would have done it, but we just don’t know where this sub is going to turn up. We’ll have to take out a couple of the SA6 sites and their command and control nexus by ourselves on the way in. Not my usual cup of tea, but what the hell. The two Hinds are going to destroy as many of the ground positions as they can. They will also provide us with our EXFIL route. Last of all, a couple of your Harrier’s are on call just in case we need to blow the living shit out of whatever.”

“And we’re just going to waltz in and steal everything back.”

“That’s the plan,” Sean said. He got the flask for another swallow.

“I bet you came up with this brilliant piece of work.”

“Does it show that much?”

“You’re still fucking crazy, Addison.”

Sean had a quiet laugh. “Seriously though, Bob, we try to take the units when they transfer them to the dock. That way all of the things are sitting in one place and out in the open.”

“And that doesn’t worry you?”

“Yevgeny assures me that the bomb casings are built to withstand terrible air friction and even near misses by anti-ballistic missiles. He tells me the things are quite bulletproof. Besides, what are you worrying for? They’ve gone to all this trouble to get the things here. They’re not going to run the risk of blowing them up.”

“You’re going to need a man in the water or at least close by to relay the information, or give us a wave off if things prove too impossible.”

“Not this time.”

Hunter ignored Sean. “Got a guy on my team called Smoke. The fucker is as silent as he is deadly. If anybody can slip in there unnoticed, he’s the one.”

Sean shook his head. “There isn’t enough time. We’ve got to have all of our shit together now and get in place before this sub arrives.”

Hunter nodded. “So you say but, fact of the matter is Sean, you’re only here in an advisory role. I’m the one calling the shots. I don’t trust intel for shit, so my guy goes in.” He took another pull from the flask. “Trust me, you’ll thank me later. We came pretty loaded. If we can’t find enough gear, I’ll have one of my Chiefs raid the base stores.”

“How soon can you get all of your kit together?”

“Give me about six hours to secure the right gear. We get the GO code and you can figure another eight to ten hours before they get us all on the beach. I can work out the insertion points from our real-time satellite data. But until we’re on the beach, it’s anybody’s guess how long it’ll take to get into position.”

“That’s cutting it pretty fine, Bob.”

“You want to give me a better scenario?” Hunter could feel Sean was holding something back. “If everything fails, what’s plan B?”

Sean dropped his eyes. “We detonate one of the warheads.”

Hunter felt like he had lost all of the air in his lungs. “What?”

“If all else fails, we load a terminal action code into the warhead and set it off on a timer. The GRU Colonel has the destruct codes. Everybody gets a key and a set of the codes. If we get into a major drama out there and everything goes for shit, it’s up to one of us to deny the things to these assholes.”