“There are moderates in Iran?” said Cheshire.
“The politics really aren’t my business,” said Briggs. “But the way I read it, the Iranians and Libyans think their best bet is to hold a trial. The NSC analyst who’s been helping us thinks the Islamic League is teetering on collapse and will fold if we prevent that. As far as that goes, I think he’s right. The Iranians really have been the driving force here; Libya, Sudan, the Somalians – bottom line is they’re followers. Now if Egypt were to get involved – that’s a different story. In any event, we want to cut that all off. And we will. Or rather, the Navy will. With our help.”
“You’re not launching an assault from here,” said Jeff, trying to shake off his fatigue. “We’re twenty-five-hundred miles away.”
“No. Two SEAL groups will make the actual assault from the Mediterranean. A marine MEU is taking care of a diversionary raid. We’re sending our Delta operators and Whiplash to man some SAR points in the mountains to the south. Both of them are loading up now. Nancy, if you’d brief the Osprey pilots on what’s out there, I’m sure they’d appreciate it.”
“Okay. We found an antiair battery that wasn’t in our briefing. Beyond that, it was pretty clean. Except for the MiGs.”
“Good,” said Hal.
“Drop the other show,” Zen told him.
Cheshire turned to Jeff.
“I’ve played poker with Hal too many times not to know he wants something else,” Jeff explained. “He wants us to do more than brief the roto pilots. He’s explained too much. He doesn’t ante in on that last round unless he thinks he can win. Then he talks to you and tries to get you to help sweeten the pot.”
“The SEALS need some real-time surveillance of the Tripoli bunker complex,” said Briggs. His voice was flat – he could have been playing poker, sitting on a full house with nothing showing. “They’re talking about using F/A-18’s, but I think it’s too damn risky. There’s one Pioneer UAV with the MEU, but that bunker has more SAMs around it than the Kremlin. It won’t last. And besides, the Pioneer would be useful for the diversion.”
“We can do it,” said Jeff. “We can use the test circuits to transmit optical and infrared views to a satellite uplink. If you’ve got JSTARS on the other end, they can relay it.”
“Zen, that’s a damn long flight,” said Cheshire. “Any we haven’t slept.”
“I slept on the way over. I’ll be fine,” said Jeff.
“You look like you’re tired as shit,” she answered. “And you’re sweating buckets.”
“Sorry if I stink,” he said.
“That’s not it.”
“I don’t want to push anybody beyond their limit,” said Hal. Now he wasn’t bluffing or playing poker – he was damn sincere. “But that bunker is a bitch. We have the plans from the Italian company that built it, because we were worried about the Libyans using it. There’s a way in, but it’s going to be tight. They need to know where the guards are sixty seconds before they land.”
“Piece of cake,” said Zen. “Show me the plans and a map.”
“You okay with this, Major?” Hal said to Cheshire.
Cheshire hesitated, but then nodded her head. “Raven cap wipe out the ground radars for the assault teams. It makes sense.”
“You’re not too tired?” Hal asked.
“No, damn it.”
Briggs nodded, then reached for his Satcom. But as he started to click into the line, he looked up at Jeff. “I was wrong,” he said. “I apologize.”
“Not necessary,” lied Zen. Then he added, “So you were sitting on four aces, huh?”
“Just two.”
Their well-earned rest had done nothing to lift the Whiplash team’s mood. Danny’s men were pissed that they had just missed the pilots and Marines. That they’d barely managed to escape without anything worse than a broken fingernail only added to the bitterness. And the fact that they were taking a decidedly secondary role in the new operation was about the last straw.
“SEALS just want the effin’ glory,” groused Bison as the Osprey lifted off. Freah could see it was going to be a long flight.
“I don’t see why we don’t take out the bunker ourselves,” said Hernandez. “While they’re going in the front door, we sneak in the back.”
“Goddamn Navy’s gonna screw it up.”
“The bunker is about seventy-five miles from Eagles Nest,” Talcom pointed out. “A hop, skip, and a jump. We can nail it in five minutes.”
“We could have packed into a C-fucking-17 and dropped in,” said Hernandez.
“You find a C-17 over here, you let me know,” said Danny, settling into his seat.
“We also serve who sit and wait,” said Liu.
“Screw you, Nurse,” said Talcom.
“I suggest you guys either get some sleep or play some cards so I can get some sleep,” said Danny finally. He snugged his pack beneath the seat, taking care not to unsafe the special quick-burn device. Besides a NOD and more ammunition than a normal platoon could use in a year, his rucksack contained maps and satellite photos of every Libyan base in the northern part of the country. As Hal had told him before they took off, it always paid to be prepared.
“You have to stand down,” Breanna told Major Cheshire as she gulped her coffee in the mess area. “You need a rest, Nancy. You’re dead on your feet.”
“Raven has to take the Flighthawks,” insisted the pilot as she gulped her coffee. It was the second cup she’d had since walking into the cafeteria area a few minutes before. “Fort Two isn’t set up for them.”
“I can fly Raven. Chris too. We’re both fresh.”
“It’s my responsibility,” said Cheshire.
“It’s going to be your responsibility if you crash the plane into the desert. Jeff, tell her.” Breanna glanced toward her husband. He looked worn as well, with deep creases on his forehead. And his flight suit was soaked through around his neck and shoulders.
“I don’t know,” he said.
“What don’t you know?” She wanted to scream at him – he was her husband, he should be supporting her.
But maybe that was why he wasn’t.
“Nancy, you can’t fly,” she said, turning to Cheshire.
“I can and I will,” said the major. Her eyes locked on Bree’s, and suddenly Breanna understood.
It was the woman thing. No way she could back down or out. she had to be as tough as the men.
Even though she was exhausted.
Against her best judgement, against her will even, Bree nodded.
“But maybe we should rotate the crew a little,” said Cheshire, eyes still locked on hers.
Bree jumped at it. “Yes, I’ll take the copilot slot. Sibert and Jones will fill the weapons and navigator positions.”
Cheshire started to shake her head.
“No, Bree’s right,” said Zen, finally coming to her defense. He looked up into her eyes as he spoke. “She should fly Raven. You’re beat.”
“She’ll fly copilot,” said Cheshire. She jumped up quickly, draining her coffee. “We’ll use Sibert and Jones. Rap is my copilot. That’s it.”
She marched off to get more coffee.
“Why the hell didn’t you back me up?” Breanna said to Jeff as soon as Cheshire was out of earshot.
“I did.”
“You don’t think I can do it?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Bree. I did back you up. Nancy’s fine.”
Her eyes caught his. He’d always believed in her before – encouraging her to pursue her career, to push herself into different planes. Now his faith had wavered. She could see doubt in his eyes.