“How far to the highway?” Mason asked as he chased the bouncing flame of his Zippo with the end of his cigarette. The old Jeep swayed side to side on its ancient suspension. The flame dimly illuminated the utilitarian interior and slightly washed out the Libyan’s night-vision device.
Zeus frowned and took his foot off the gas until Mason lit the cigarette and closed the lighter with a click. It was hard enough driving in the daylight, but trying to get out of the foothills under night vision really sucked.
It seemed like every time Mason was in Libya, the roads were washed out, and this time was no exception. As Zeus dropped the truck into another hole, Mason began to feel carsick from staring at Decklin’s computer.
The PVS-14 Zeus was wearing completely distorted his depth perception, making it impossible to pick a safe path. Inside the cab, Mason struggled to keep the laptop stable, while Zeus fought to keep the wheel steady.
“Five kilometers, but at this rate that could take all day,” the Libyan said grimly.
Mason’s stomach demanded he close the laptop or face its wrath, and he was just about to comply when he recognized a name he’d known from the Anvil Program. Clicking on the tab entitled “Gen. Swift,” Mason brought up a memo written to his old boss.
“Hey, listen to this,” Mason said to Zeus as he began reading the memo out loud. “It’s a memo from some general in Bagram to General Swift, the commander of Special Ops in Afghanistan. It’s labeled ‘Eyes Only,’ which means Decklin definitely stole this copy.”
“Good for him, what does it say?”
“It says, ‘You are directed to utilize Anvil 6 to prosecute kinetic operations in Objective Lion.’ ”
“So, what does that mean?”
“It means that someone higher than Swift is pulling Barnes’s chain. I bet there’s another attack on the horizon.”
“You’re reaching,” Zeus replied.
“Bullshit, I’m telling you the same thing I told Ahmed. Someone is running Barnes and now we have proof that he’s running Swift too. They are both fucking traitors,” Mason said, slamming the lid in triumph.
The American glanced at his friend, who appeared bored as he leaned forward in his seat. The green light from the night-vision monocular spilled out over his left eye and provided the only illumination in the Jeep.
Mason could tell he was skeptical, but the American knew he was onto something.
“So, what do you think?”
“I hope this old piece of shit holds out,” Zeus replied as the front end disappeared into another large rut. Mason’s hand shot out to the vinyl dashboard as Zeus punched the accelerator and cut the wheel to the right.
“It might if you stop hitting every hole in the road.”
“It is a good truck. They don’t make them like this anymore,” Zeus replied as the tires caught and dug themselves out of the hole.
“Dude, this truck is like ten years old. It’s not exactly a classic.”
“Yes, but now they make them out of plastic. They aren’t worth a shit.”
“Look, I know we’re getting close to breaking this thing wide open. You have to trust me,” Mason said.
“It’s not like I have anything better to do,” the Libyan replied.
“If we can find out who is pulling Swift’s strings, we have a chance to end this.”
“Is that really what you want?” Zeus took his eyes off the road for a split second and shot his friend a searching glance.
The two men had naturally arrived at a brutal honesty that formed the foundation of their relationship. They shared everything, even blame, and kept no secrets from each other. It was the only way they stayed close despite the horrors they’d been forced to commit.
Mason admired the Libyan and felt that he needed the man more than Zeus really needed him. He knew that his friend was tired of fighting, but he never complained and never let him down.
The cab fell silent again, leaving each man to exorcise his own demons.
“Did you hear that?” Mason asked suddenly.
“What, did you fart again?” Zeus asked, rolling the window down in anticipation of the smell to come.
“No, it sounded like rotors. Get off the road!”
Zeus snapped the wheel hard to the right and bumped the Jeep onto a soft field, and scanned for a place to hide. They were caught out in the open, with nowhere to go, and all they could do was wait.
Mason stubbed out the cigarette and propped open the door. He’d already disabled the interior lights, but he still had to be careful. Lifting his night-vision device to his eyes, he scanned the horizon near the foothills off to the west. There was nothing but empty sky in every direction. Maybe his ears were playing tricks on him.
Zeus got out of the truck, AK-47 in hand. Checking the magazine by feel, he reassured himself that it was full before jamming it back into the magazine well.
“Mason, I see a ditch,” he whispered in Arabic.
The American followed the Libyan’s outstretched finger and saw a small scar cutting through the field to his left.
“Go. I’ll grab the gear.”
The NODs bumped against his breastbone as he let them hang from the black cord attaching them to his neck. Reaching into the back of the truck, he grabbed his pack and rifle before sprinting toward Zeus. There was no mistaking the sound of an approaching helicopter now. The pilot had used the mountains to mask his approach, but now the heavy rotors echoed off the open ground.
Mason jumped down into the ditch and grabbed the satellite phone from his assault pack. Tossing it to the ground, he smashed it with the butt of his AK.
“Get rid of your phone,” he told Zeus.
The Libyan ripped the battery out of his cell phone and flung it into the darkness, then hunkered down into the ditch.
Mason put the night vision back to his eyes and looked up into the darkness. Someone was tracking them and this time Ahmed wasn’t there to warn him.
“Fuck.”
A black shape gradually appeared, skimming low and fast over the rolling hills to the west. Mason saw it drop to twenty feet off the deck and race toward them.
The MH-60G Pave Hawk skimmed closer, outrunning the sound of its rotors, and Zeus flipped his rifle to “fire.” Mason knew there was no way they could do anything to the Special Operations helicopter with a couple of AK-47s, so he quickly pushed his friend’s rifle down.
“They’ll kill us,” he said simply, tossing his own rifle to the ground.
The Pave Hawk buzzed low over their position, its hot exhaust and downdraft beating the ground as it passed. Through his NODs Mason could see the gunner’s infrared laser come to rest on them as the pilot brought the bird around in a shallow circle. He knew that the laser was attached to an M134 minigun, and he had no intention of provoking the gunner to use it.
“How do you manage to piss off so many people?” Zeus demanded, tossing his AK into the dirt.
“Me? You were there too. Don’t try to act innocent,” Mason yelled back as the helicopter flared briefly before setting down.
Zeus leaned in to ensure that Mason could hear him. “You always get me into this bullshit.”
“Try to act professional.” Mason shoved him as a group of soldiers jumped off the bird and fanned out. Before dropping the NODs, Mason could see four more infrared lasers dancing over his chest as a team approached their position with rifles at the ready.
“You better be glad that your friends are here, or by Allah I would kick your ass,” Zeus hollered, shoving Mason back.
“Oh, really…”
“You two, shut the fuck up,” one of the soldiers commanded as he placed his barrel into Mason’s face.
“Uhhh, okay,” Mason replied, looking up at the man he could barely see. “So, what’s going on?”
“Keep your mouth closed,” he said as two of his teammates reached down and roughly pulled the two men out of the hole.