“So why has he laid off?”
“Redemption.”
“Huh?” Big asked.
“If we get the Sheikh and make it back, we’ve redeemed ourselves in his eyes. If we don’t come back, we got what was coming to us.”
“That’s pretty calculated.”
“Yep.”
“What do you think? You still glad we went to Lebanon?”
Woods had thought of little else for weeks. It had haunted him. “It was stupid,” Woods said. “And reckless. But isn’t war made up of basically stupid acts? Things rational people would never do, given a choice? It seems like you have to get yourself into a position where you feel like you have no choice. Then you just do the inevitable. It’s a game your mind plays with you. I was absolutely convinced if we didn’t do something, no one would.”
“Would you do it again?”
“No.”
“What about now?”
“Now we’re at war. It’s the difference between dying as a soldier and dying as a criminal.”
“You’re just as dead.”
“One’s with honor.”
“What difference does that make?” Big said with a small, sarcastic chuckle.
“I don’t know. I just know it’s different.” Woods listened to the water hiss against the side of the carrier. “I used to think I knew it all. Not anymore. I just need to do my job and do it as well as I can.”
“Which tonight means flying into Iran,” Big said, smiling. “And you think Bark is setting us up?”
“No. He’s just given us an incredible opportunity which also happens to come with just enough rope to hang ourselves.”
“All the freedom we want to pull off our little scheme, on the off chance it will make up for last time.” Big shook his head as he thought of all the implications and all the machinations. “My wife will be so pissed if I don’t come back. Especially if she ever gets the whole story.”
“She’d lose it. Does she know about Lebanon?”
Big shook his head.
“We’re taking a big risk tonight.”
“It’s worth it. I still want to get this guy. And this time it’s legal. How about you?”
“Chance of a lifetime.”
“Trey, if anything happens to me, tell—”
“No chance. You’re going to have to tell her yourself.”
Big smiled. “Let’s go brief.”
“Yeah.” Woods glanced at the sky and the sea for one last time. “You know, if Leavenworth is waiting for us when we get back, I’d rather not come back.”
“According to your own paranoid theory, if Bark is setting us up, if we get the Sheikh, all is well.”
“That’s the theory. But we can’t very well ask him, can we?”
“No. But we can sure try to get the Sheikh.”
“There it is,” Woods smiled.
The squad of Assassins, candlelight dancing off their dirty faces and weapons, entered the cave room. Twenty or thirty men surrounded the Sheikh, sitting in his usual chair. The squad carefully lowered their fallen comrades to the floor and folded their hands on their chests. The blood of the dead men glistened on those who had carried them.
The man carrying the unidentified enemy stood motionless, not sure whether to put him down. As everyone watched, he finally walked to the corner and dumped the body onto the floor unceremoniously. The Sheikh rose more quickly than usual. “What has happened?”
“We found one of the invaders.”
“Three of our men were killed?” the Sheikh asked.
“We discovered a spy — very well hidden. He shot through his covering.” Farouk pulled out a piece of the cloth covering and the aluminum frame from under his robe and handed them to the Sheikh. “It looked like a boulder. Even from one meter away.”
The Sheikh examined it. “Ingenious,” he said.
“Only by touching it could we tell the difference.”
“But you found him. You are to be rewarded… As to these men,” he said, indicating the fallen Assassins, “they have their reward.” The Sheikh touched each of the dead men on the forehead. He turned to the heap in the corner. “Bring him over here into the light,” he said to the two men closest to the dead intruder. They grabbed the dead body and dragged him to the center of the room. The Sheikh stood over him, studying his face. “Did you search him?”
“Yes. We did.”
“Did you find anything?”
“No. There is no identification of any kind.”
“Then he was certainly a spy. No uniform, no identification, not even an indication of what country he is from.” He thought about the spy for a while, standing stiffly, his hands behind his back. “What did you find in his hideout?”
“Much,” the leader of the section said. He crossed to the table, moved several charts aside, and reached into the bag he had hauled back from the dead man’s post. The first thing he took out was the sniper rifle.
The Sheikh took the rifle and held it, recognizing it instantly. “Remington five hundred. The sniper rifle preferred by the American Special Forces.” He took the next item handed him. “Night-vision binoculars. Very expensive,” he said, holding them in his hands. He lifted them to his eyes, flipping the switch to activate them. He glanced around the room and then turned them off. “The best I’ve ever seen. What else?”
“There was much ammunition, small arms, this device—” He handed a small unit to the Sheikh.
The Sheikh examined it, turning it over and back again. “There was a plate on the side of this that gave the manufacturer’s name. It has been removed.” He put the device on the table and stood back, watching the faces of his men to see if anyone recognized it. To his disappointment, no one did. “This is a laser designator.” They recognized the name. They knew exactly what that was, and what it meant. The Sheikh told them anyway. “He was here to designate us as a target for an airplane,” the Sheikh said, staring at the small device. He looked at the dead man. “He was certainly with the American Special Forces. We have acted just in time. The Americans are on their way… We’ll see what they can do without their spy. And we will be waiting.”
Woods attached the clip to his helmet and carefully removed the ANVIS-9 Night Vision Devices from their case. Wink, Big, and Sedge did the same right behind him. Woods expertly attached the binocular devices to the clips and folded them down in front of his eyes. “Lights,” he said to the para-rigger waiting by the switch. The lights were turned off inside the paraloft and it went completely dark. Woods flipped the small switch on the side of the lenses and the interior of the loft was clear in various shades of green. He crossed to the Hoffman box and gazed into its openings. He adjusted the four lenses on the goggles until he could see twenty/twenty inside the box. The others followed suit. Big was the last to focus his lenses. “Lights,” he said, and the four detached the goggles from their helmets and placed them in the carrying cases.
Woods walked toward the Tomcat, stopping when he caught a glimpse of the GBU-28 under the plane. It was as big as a small airplane, and heavier than many. He stared at the bomb, then glanced at the Gunner. “Big mother,” he commented as he handed his knee board to Airman Benson.
“Yes, sir,” Gunner Bailey replied, very pleased with his men that they had been able to load the bombs without incident.
Benson took Wink’s helmet bag and climbed aboard to set up the cockpits. Woods and Wink split up to do their counterrotating preflight and started down each side of the Tomcat. They checked the bomb repeatedly, studying the red arming pennants the ordies would remove on the catapult. Finished with that part of the check, they climbed up and strapped in.
The night weather had taken a turn for the worse, the sea rougher than it had been in many days. The other aircraft on the diversionary strike were to launch after them, except for the dedicated S-3 tanker, which would go off cat four just before they took off. Woods and Big were to take all the fuel their planes could hold.