“You do realize what I’m capable of, right?” Michael said. “Hey, you might be able to kick my ass, but I can empty your back account in under a minute. Donate it all to charity. I can run up your credit cards, ruin your credit. I’m that good, and I’m on your side, okay?” Michael was hoping by standing up for himself, the men would respect him more. He’d worked with Operators before, but these guys seemed the toughest bunch thus far.
It’s always the guys with the beards you should fear most.
Thompson grinned at Michael, “Problem is, my wife spends all my money, maxed out my credit cards too. Difference between you and I is this: You mess up, we die. So get it right, cause if you don’t, I’ll consider putting a knife in your gut.”
“Got that, kid?” Clements added.
Michael gulped, nodding furiously.
“Good.”
55
Elizabeth finally finished talking to the woman at the computer. She nodded, turned, then walked toward the group who were just taking their seats. Elizabeth hardly acknowledged them, glancing briefly over her shoulder at the six rugged men. A bit of a scowl crossed her face, then she glanced to her left, nodding at Colonel Reynolds. Elizabeth dismissed Michael, who sat at a desk nearby, an array of computer monitors in front of him.
“Gentlemen, welcome. My name is Elizabeth, and I’m in charge,” she said.
“Sounds like my ex-wife,” Clements muttered, causing Thompson to laugh.
Elizabeth glared at him, saying, “Trust me, I’m much worse than your ex-wife.”
“She was a pretty big bitch, trust me,” Clements commented, un-intimidated, testing her, pushing the limits. “Thing is, she was pretty fat, you’re not. Kinda hot if you want to know my opinion,” he added, a casual smile on his face.
“Actually, I don’t care much for your opinion, Sergeant Clements. And though I may not be fat, as if that matters, I’m indeed a bitch. I’m the epitome of bitch. Queen bitch, you got that?”
Clements nodded, saying, “Yeah, a lot like my ex-wife. You’re a spook, aren’t ya? Thing is, I’m not a fan of taking orders from civilians, especially women. Don’t hold it against me, though. I’m a sexist, just like my boy Thompson here. Nothing personal, ma’am,” Clements said, grinning.
Elizabeth nodded, her eyes staring directly into his. Men like him didn’t cause her to falter in any way. With a cold stare she said, “Nothing personal at all, Sergeant. And it won’t be personal when I sign the dotted line and have your ass hauled off to Leavenworth either.”
“For what?” he asked.
“For whatever reason I can make up. Doesn’t matter. You smart off, talk shit, don’t obey — that’s fine. I’ll ship you off and forget your name and face ten minutes later. Sorry to say, but your humor doesn’t amuse me, and you don’t impress me either. So, you have a choice, Sergeant Clements. You all do. You can either accept my command, or you can relieve yourself. But if you decide you’re in, you better commit.”
“Look, I…” Clements began, stuttering over what to say. “… I want in,” he said.
“You sure?” she asked.
“Yes,” Clements grumbled.
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Clements said, face getting hot, turning red. “I’ll stay. I’m in this.”
“Well, goodie!” Elizabeth exclaimed, her tone beyond sarcastic, clapping her hands, staring him down. “Now, if you’ll kindly shut the fuck up and stop wasting my time, we can get started.”
The room erupted with clapping and laughter, everyone joining in.
All but Clements, who sulked in his chair.
“This is a Special Activities Division Priority One Mission,” Elizabeth stated. “We’ve gotten the green light, and I’ve formed this task force, personally selected each member. This is a multi-tasked team composed of fourteen members. Six of you are from The Unit. You’ve all met Colonel Reynolds. Michael is a civilian contractor, he’ll be in charge of the technicalities with the help of Viki over there. All surveillance and communications — IMAGINT and TECHINT, will be under their control. Those other two men in the corner, well, you don’t need to know who they are. You just need to know they are with me. Understood?” she asked.
They nodded, though Clements raised his hand.
Elizabeth rolled her eyes, saying, “Yes, Sergeant?”
“I’m sorry, I’m might be a dumb country boy, but I can count. That’s only twelve.”
“How astute,” she smiled. “The other two members will be here shortly. But I’ll need to catch you up to speed. We don’t have much time.”
“What is the mission, ma’am?” Dale asked. He was team leader, and as he flipped through the files, there wasn’t much, not enough to go on. “I suppose you’re going to tell us now, right?”
“Sergeant, before we get into that, I must make one thing clear to you and your men. Eight will be going into hostile territory. I don’t expect all of you to come back. Is that understood, Sergeant?” she asked. A look of true concern crossed her face.
“You sending us on a suicide mission, eh?” Dale asked, tilting his head, curious.
“There’s little chance of success, yes. I’ll be straightforward and honest. It’s a death run, though I wouldn’t be sending you in if I thought there was zero chance of survival.”
“Sure about that?” Dale asked.
“I am. Don’t take these blunt facts to mean I don’t care. Each of you is able, right this moment, to walk away. Like McClain’s team, you’ll be reassigned. Nothing will be held against you for walking away,” she said.
“That why McClain isn’t running the show?” Clements asked.
She turned to him, saying, “Commander McClain was too close. His emotions would have hindered his judgment,” she said.
“The Commander is a professional,” Clements defended.
“No doubt, but this mission is out of the ordinary. Quite different, and McClain’s team wasn’t needed. Now, one last time… everyone in?”
“Hooah!” they responded.
“Great,” Elizabeth said, a bit relieved. She knew they would accept, but something in the back of her mind had worried her, still did. “You six men have been in Afghanistan for four years. Most of that time, you’ve been with Task Force 88. You specialize in asymmetrical warfare, guerrilla strategies, close quarters combat.”
“Stuff like that, yeah,” Dale acknowledged.
“That’s exactly what I need here. In ancient times, war was won by sheer numbers. But asymmetrical war has changed the tide of war over the years. We’re getting better at it, and I’ll say I picked Delta for certain reasons,” Elizabeth said.
“’Cause we’re the best, we know that,” Thompson gloated.
“Yes, you are. Also, your specialties. Desert and mountainous navigation. Close quarters battle. Less emphasis on hostage rescue. I’m betting on your superior tactics, gentlemen. I’m betting on creative thinking on this one.”
The Special Activities Division fell under AWG, or the Asymmetrical Warfare Group. These men were hand-selected to work for the CIA. The Special Activities Division, for all intents and purposes, answered to nobody. They had no rules, for they didn’t exist. Mostly comprised of Special Operators, these were the elite of all elite.
Asymmetrical Warfare wasn’t only a modern technique. In ancient times, guerrilla ambushes, night attacks, hit and runs were used to win battles, to demoralize. But after World War II and the end of the modern century, this unconventional approach was utilized more and more.
Asymmetrical Warfare is simply a term used when two unevenly matched groups face one another in combat. The smaller unit can’t hope to match a larger force with conventional methods, head-to-head, so they use unconventional means to win the battle. They pick and choose when and how to engage. They use unsavory tactics, they remain unpredictable. Ambush and surprise.