Turning before she could answer, he walked into the conference room and pulled up a chair next to the station chief. “She’s not going to give us anything else,” Jim Green said as Renee walked into the room.
Everyone turned to look as she stood frozen in the doorway. Renee could tell they were already laying the failed operation on her. She knew she should pack up her stuff and leave, but something inside her refused to admit defeat.
The station chief turned in his chair and cast a dark look at her before telling the team leader to continue with the briefing.
Renee slipped into the room and stood with her back against the glass wall. A large picture of the doctor’s house had been printed off the Internet and appeared to be the only imagery they were using. Random words and phrases were written haphazardly on the giant whiteboard that the image was taped to; the only thing tactical about the mission was the man with “Tac Commander” written on his shirt.
Renee had been here before. As one of the first women to fight in a Special Ops unit, she was used to the smug egotism that most men wore like suits of armor. She had two strikes against her before ever stepping in the room. The first was the fact that she was a woman in a man’s world, and the second was that she was new. No one cared what the “new guy” had to say, especially if it was a woman.
She might not have been welcome, but she still paid attention as J.T., the team leader, briefed the plan. He was dressed in the latest Crye Precision gear, and the five-hundred-dollar outfit had been freshly pressed. The man had his pants bloused over his hiking boots, which made him look like a mall security guard. Renee didn’t know the guy, but he looked like a total douche.
“We’re going to approach the objective from phase line green.” He used his left hand to trace the route on the map, but Renee couldn’t see the tiny image and had no idea what street he was referring to. “Once we hit phase line blue we are weapons hot, and the plan is to stop short of the objective and set up an outer cordon. I want the breaching team ready, on my go, to hit the door, and I’ll need the red team around the back providing rear security.”
Despite the fact that she had actually been inside the doctor’s house the day prior when she tapped his phones, no one bothered to ask for her input. So she slipped out of the room to call Swift again.
“Jalalabad TOC, Sergeant Wilson speaking. How may I help you, sir or ma’am?” the sergeant on duty at the tactical operations center answered.
“Sergeant Wilson, this is Razor 1 on an unsecured line. I need to speak with General Swift, right now.”
“Ma’am, he’s not here.”
“Where the hell did he go?”
“He’s at Bagram, some kind of meeting.”
“Shit. I need you to find him and have him call me back. He has the number.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The line went dead, and Renee stuffed the phone in her pocket and jogged to the elevator. She jumped into the crowded car, her mind racing as it made its descent.
The elevator settled after completing its four-story trip to the basement, and the doors slid open with a ding. Renee could see that the door to the equipment cage was still open, and she slipped into the secure area with the rest of the agents. She didn’t have any gear, but luckily the army had taught her the importance of making friends with the supply and equipment personnel, and Renee always made it her mission to be on a first-name basis with them wherever she went.
While the strike team geared up and checked their weapons, she went straight to the armorer. The entrance to the arms room had a heavy metal door, like a bank vault, which was open. Once the main door was opened, the armorer had another metal half door that prevented people from entering but allowed them to receive weapons and gear that he passed through the open portion.
Renee leaned over the top of the door and peered in. She felt like a mother picking her child up from day care, but instead of a kid, she was trying to get a rifle.
“Hey, Matt, sorry to bother you,” she said to the man seated at the metal desk set against the reinforced concrete wall.
“Renee, I hear you had a shitty night,” the young, lanky man said as he bounced up from the desk.
“Yeah, I need a rifle for the raid. Can you hook me up?”
“No problem, do you have a requisitions form?”
“Jim Green didn’t give me one, he told me to draw something from you.”
After last night’s shooting, she technically wasn’t cleared to go out with the strike team until after her shooting review board. Even though she was in the military, she still had to follow the DoD’s policies, but Renee knew there were always ways around the rules.
“I’m not supposed to give anything out without the form, but what the hell, you have the highest security clearance in the building. What do you want?”
“It doesn’t matter to me as long as it’s been zeroed.”
The inside of the armory had a large metal workbench and a red tool chest against the far wall. Every other inch was filled with weapon racks, equipment, and body armor. Matt grabbed a decked-out M4 from the rack and checked to ensure it was unloaded before handing it over.
“I assume you need magazines and ammo too?”
“Please.” She pulled the charging handle to the rear, even though he had just shown her the weapon was empty. It was rule number one and had been drilled into her head for the last six years of her life.
The rifle was equipped with an Aimpoint micro battle optic, which looked like a toy but was rugged and extremely light. It could run forever on a single battery, but Renee checked it anyway. She turned the knob all the way up, and after ensuring the bright red dot didn’t flicker, she shut it off.
The strike team was loading up and she needed to hurry or they would leave her.
“Is the supply room open?” she asked, knowing she was pushing it.
Renee hated using her feminine wiles to get men to do what she wanted, but there was no way she was sitting this one out. She stuffed the mags into the plate carrier’s pouches, which Matt had given her, and then with a look that was a mix between a pout and a promise said, “I need to get a flight suit and a radio too.”
“Whatever you need, pretty lady.”
“Thanks. If you’re still around when I get back, I’ll let you buy me a beer.”
He blushed and handed over her helmet.
Renee jogged over to the last van and opened the passenger door. Before getting in, she jammed a magazine into the rifle’s mag well and racked a round into the chamber. The driver arched his eyebrow as she pulled herself into the seat. “Rough morning?”
Slamming the door closed, she settled her bulky gear into the seat. The driver’s name was Steve, and he’d been Joseph’s friend and partner for a long time. Renee was glad to be riding with him. “What makes you say that?”
Steve had put in more than his share of “work” for the DoD and truly didn’t give a shit anymore. He had three years until retirement and was the most laid-back man at the office.
The cargo door slid open as a squad of agents piled into the back of the van. He gave her a playful nudge on the shoulder as she put the helmet on her head and adjusted her ponytail.
“Don’t worry about it. No one worth a shit blames you for what went down.”
“Your boss does.”
“Like I said, no one worth a shit.”
He laughed and put the van in drive as Renee turned on her radio. The men in the back were psyching themselves up and basically dicking around as the convoy pulled out of the underground garage and headed for the street.
Renee had been on more operations than she could count, but they had always been with a team she knew and trusted. Nervousness crept coldly up her spine and into her stomach. She didn’t know these guys, but she could tell they weren’t switched on. If things got bad, Renee knew she would be on her own, with no one to watch her back.