Уильям Дитц - Seek and Destroy

Mac heard two clicks followed by silence. She could see figures moving along the fourth-floor walkway. There was a flash, a bang, and some incomprehensible yelling. The snatch was in progress.

FORT KNOX, KENTUCKY

The situation room was almost full by the time Sloan arrived. Secretary of Defense Garrison was there, as was Chairman of the Joint Chiefs Jones, Director of National Intelligence Kip, National Security Advisor Hall, Chief of Staff Chow, and Press Secretary Besom. They came to their feet as the president entered, and he waved them back into their chairs. “Sorry I’m late… How’s it going?”

All eyes turned to General Jones. “The Marauders arrived safely, sir… And the snatch is under way. But the rebs are responding.”

Sloan frowned. “Responding to what ? The landing? The raid on the hotel? Or both?”

“The landing,” Jones replied. “The C-130s went in low, but we believe the enemy spotted them from orbit and ran a check. Once all of their planes were accounted for, they knew the transports belonged to us. Four Confederate fighters are inbound to Pyote Airfield, plus two larger planes, which are probably loaded with troops. ETA twenty-five minutes.”

“So there’s no way our people can get out of there without a fight.”

“No, sir.”

“Shit.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do we have fighters on the way?”

“Yes, sir.”

Sloan sat down. His eyes flitted from screen to screen but his thoughts were elsewhere. Mac was there… Where the shit was going to hit the fan. Why? Because of him, that’s why. Because of orders he’d given. And why did you give those orders? Sloan demanded of himself. Because you’re a cold-blooded, calculating bastard. That’s why.

And it was true. Or mostly true. The decision to send Mac’s Marauders rather than another outfit had been based on a number of factors, first and foremost of which was the fact that Mac had a proven ability to pull off missions that other people couldn’t, regardless of how difficult the circumstances might be. That made her a logical choice.

Ah, the voice said, but there was more to it than that… You hoped to prove that the Military Reintegration Program was more than a strategy to get Mac out of prison. And you wanted to prove that you weren’t playing favorites even though you were playing favorites because you’d been led to believe that the mission would go off without a hitch.

“Here’s the latest,” Jones said. “Our fighters are in contact with their fighters south of Odessa. Both sides are sending more planes.” The Battle of Pyote Field had been joined.

ODESSA, TEXAS

“Here comes trouble.” The voice belonged to the LUCKY LOU’s gunner, Private Nathan Bostick. Mac was crouched next to an enormous tire, with her M4 at the ready. It was the moment she’d been dreading. Someone was sure to call the cops after the special ops team blew the door open… And here they were. The police car entered the parking lot with lights flashing and screeched to a halt. When the driver’s side door opened, a lone cop got out. Her pistol was drawn and tilted upward.

“Talk to her,” Mac ordered. “But be ready to fire.”

“This is a military security operation,” Bostic announced over the LUCKY LOU’s loudspeaker. “Please holster your weapon and stand by. We’ll let you know if we need assistance.”

That was the approach the team had agreed on while planning the mission. None of the soldiers wanted to kill members of Odessa’s police force. But would the policewoman buy Bostic’s story? Mac allowed herself a sigh of relief as the pistol went into its holster. She went forward to stall. “Good morning, Officer… It looks like somebody screwed up! We have a deserter corralled in the hotel. Our people were supposed to notify your people.”

The twentysomething cop was clearly angry. “Well, they didn’t, not that I know of, and the chief is going to raise hell.”

Mac nodded sympathetically. “Of course… I get that.”

The conversation was interrupted as two members of the special ops team showed up holding their prisoner between them. The man had a hood over his head—and was nude except for a pair of wet boxers. Had he peed himself? That’s the way it looked. Lyle nodded to Mac, and she turned to the police officer. “We have our man. Thanks for the assist.”

“Wait!” the cop said, as Mac followed Lyle into CALIFORNIA GIRL’s bay. “I need to see your ID! I need to—”

The policewoman’s words were cut off as the hatch closed. And once the soldiers were inside the Stryker, there was nothing the cop could do but call dispatch and complain as the vics left the parking lot. Mac didn’t have to tell Kona to step on it. The TC was well aware of the need for speed. Tires screeched as the vic turned a corner and sped up the ramp onto I-20 west.

As Mac returned to her perch in the air-guard hatch, she heard a sonic boom and knew that planes were fighting overhead. She keyed her mike. “Boomer Six to Four… We have the package, and we’re leaving Odessa… What’s the situation there? Over.”

“This is Four,” Overman replied. “The zoomies are all over the sky… They’ve been able to keep the reb fighters off us so far. Over.”

“What about the transports? Don’t let the bastards land.”

“Hold one,” Overman replied, and Mac could hear the sound of firing in the background before he spoke again. “Sorry, it’s kind of hectic here. The transports made no attempt to land. But it’s raining Rangers right now… And some of the bastards landed inside the perimeter. Over.”

Someone in the Confederate chain of command had been smart enough to send airborne troops! Mac cursed her own stupidity. That possibility hadn’t occurred to her. Maybe it was because Lassiter thought the mission would come off without a hitch… Whatever the reason, she should have anticipated the possibility and taken steps to deal with it. But what could she have done differently? That wasn’t immediately apparent to Mac but would bear consideration later on. Assuming there was a later on. “Roger that,” Mac said. “What about the C-21? Over.”

The original plan had been for an Air Force C-21 Learjet to land and collect Secretary Sanders for a quick trip north. But now, with dogfights taking place in the sky above Pyote Field, an unarmed plane would be extremely vulnerable. So Overman’s response didn’t surprise her. “The C-21 was told to turn back,” he told her. “We have orders to bring the package out on one of the Hercs. Over.”

Mac could imagine the three C-130s sitting there, ready to take hits. One thing was glaringly obvious. Because it would take at least half an hour to load the Strykers, she’d have to leave them behind. “Got it,” Mac said. “Get ready to load WIAs and KIAs, and pull our people back to defend the transports. Over.”

“Roger that,” Overman replied. “Over.”

Mac clicked the mike key twice by way of a reply. She saw a flash of light in the western sky and heard what sounded like thunder. A fighter had been destroyed. But whose ? All to capture the piece of shit in the blue boxer shorts. I hope the bastard is worth it, Mac thought to herself. But such considerations were above her pay grade.

The Strykers rolled past Penwell, Monahans, and Thortonville. And it wasn’t long before the Pyote exit came up. Mac could hear the persistent rattle of automatic weapons by then, the occasional thump as a grenade detonated, and the roar of jet engines overhead. “Get ready,” she told the team. “We’ll have to fight our way in.”