“Roger that,” Rivers responded, looking to Comstock.
“All right, so we’ve got one of the best snipers in the world on our side watching our backs,” Dale said. “Now let’s get moving.” He looked to Clements and Thompson, saying, “Delta Three and Four, you’ll go with Rivers and Svetlana. Up that hill,” he said, pointing to the massive peak. “Get up there quick, we’ll be doing the same.”
“I have to take Hollywood?” Clements asked.
“You sure do. Do some recon,” Comstock continued, ignoring Clements’ complaint. “We’ll gather the rest of the gear and hump it up behind you.” Dale looked to Rivers, adding in a low voice, “Hollywood One, eyes on Svetlana. Watch her, brother. Things might get hot.”
“Roger, Delta One. Eyes on Hollywood Two.”
Everyone went to work, the teams beginning their ascent.
“Seventh floor,” Elizabeth said into her phone. It was perhaps one of the most secure lines in the world, direct to the head of this operation, a man with a heavy dialect and temper to boot.
The line clicked.
No dial tone, only silence.
“Password?”
“Alpha, Kilo, one-one-nine,” Elizabeth said. “Zulu Seven Clearance.”
“Hold,” the voice replied.
The line clicked again.
Silence once more.
“Yes,” a man’s voice said. It was gruff, short, as if too busy to take calls at the moment.
“Drop is complete,” Elizabeth reported.
“We know,” the man’s voice replied.
“Oh,” Elizabeth said. She was startled, for that was impossible. She didn’t question it, though, instead saying, “Task Force Zulu Seven is nearing the first waypoint. Should have an update within the hour.”
“All right. We’ve detected movements on recent satellite scans.”
“Aren’t they blurry?” she asked.
“We’re using another method. It’s proving difficult, but clearer images.”
“Why wasn’t I notified?” Elizabeth asked.
“It’s of no help. The satellite feed isn’t live.”
“Where’s the movement? The village? The cave?”
“The entire valley. Outside, too.”
“Say again?” Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “So they’re out?”
“As of the last transmission, we counted two or three.”
Elizabeth sighed, eased by the words. “Oh, good. We can handle two or three.”
“Hundred,” the voice finished. “Two or three hundred. And seismic reports say there’s more in the cave.”
“My God!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “That’s impossible odds. Sir, may I suggest we pull out until—”
“Negative,” came the husky response. “You’ll proceed as the operation calls for. Send your men in.”
“I’ll have to tell them.”
“They’ll figure it out soon enough,” the voice said.
Elizabeth understood what that meant. She wasn’t to tell them, not yet. She didn’t like this, not one bit. Whomever was linked to the other side of the world wasn’t playing fair to her team. Elizabeth had figured Langley would leave something out from the official files, but the tone of the man’s voice was unsettling. It felt as if they were being sold out.
“So… we’re to continue as planned? Nothing new we need to know so we might change our plans?”
“Nothing new. Continue them to waypoint one and report.”
Click.
The line was dead.
Whomever was on the other end, the man with the rough voice, was now gone.
Elizabeth gulped, looking back to the monitors in front of her, taking a quick glance over to Michael, before looking back. She was nervous, and fought to conceal her shaking hands.
94
“Delta One, this is Sierra Bravo Four,” Reynolds said. He was mounted halfway up the southern canyon wall, hidden in a crevice between two giant boulders, concealed within a ragged bit of plants.
“This is Delta One,” Comstock replied.
“I’ve got eyes on village,” Reynolds reported. “Distance… four hundred and fifty meters. Elevation, seventy-five meters.”
“What do you see?” Comstock asked, looking through a pair of binoculars himself.
“A village full of possible tangos,” Reynolds said. “Don’t see any arms yet, but will keep an eye out for you boys. I have three lanes of fire, good visual.”
“Roger that,” Comstock replied.
“I’ll keep eyes on and cover you. I’ll move closer once your team passes through the village.”
Dale Comstock then turned to his team, his voice gruff, ready for business. “It’s time.”
They had entered the valley, moved to the canyon floor. Dusk was near.
“Once we get the green light, we’ll move in,” Dale said. “Three teams. We’ll take the village from three angles. Keep COMMS open unless you need something. Move fast, report any hostiles.”
The men nodded.
Svetlana had a cold look about her, pale face, tight lips.
“You okay, ma’am? I can send you back,” Comstock suggested.
“I’m okay,” Svetlana replied.
Comstock took a moment, looking deep into her eyes. He wanted something, needed anything to keep her from going. Thing is, bravery was in her nature, and she hid whatever fears she had well. She was ready to prove herself to this warrior class of men, and Comstock immediately had more respect for the woman.
“All right,” he said, then turned to his men. “Delta Two and Seven with me,” Comstock said to Jefferson and York. “Delta Three and Four, you’ll be with Rivers and the girl. South side.”
“Fucking shit, Dale,” Clements said. “You’re sending two women with Thompson and I?”
“Fuck you!” Rivers said, his eyes wild, ready for business.
Clements grinned wide, and Comstock barked at him, “Knock that shit off right now! Sweep to the south. We’ll stay along the perimeter and just make sure there are no tangos. Once past, we’ll regroup on the northern side of the canyon and approach the cave together.”
“Got it,” Clements and Thompson said in unison.
Comstock turned, looking at Marcus and Hernandez. “Delta Five and Six, hit the northern perimeter of the village. Move quick and stay ahead. We have the official green light. Code word: Electric Saints. Task Force Zulu Seven, let’s move in.”
“Hooah!” they both said.
“Jefferson, York and I will sweep behind, watch your backs. We’ll enter the village, though we’ll stay close to the southern edge. Watch your fire, there’s women and children there.”
“Hooah!” all the Delta men said once more.
“Let’s get moving,” Comstock ordered. Then, he spoke into his mic, alerting Colonel Reynolds, who in turn relayed to Elizabeth back at base. “We’re going in,” Delta One stated.
The three teams scattered, creeping down the rocky hillside, watching their angles and moving forward. They did so with ease, each man accustomed to such terrain. Even the Russian woman kept pace; Svetlana was obviously in good shape.
Comstock, Jefferson, and York took up the rear, thirty meters behind. They kept a careful eye on the village in the distance. The sun was behind them, lowering fast on the horizon. It would spotlight them, but thus far, nobody had noticed. The pair took turns scanning the valley floor, the canyon walls, looking for any hiding Taliban.
There were none.
Comstock and Jefferson were each well-armed.
Jefferson carried two rifles — his primary was also an M4. It was currently on single shot, safety off, for there was no time for safeties in Afghanistan. Not here. Slung across his shoulder was an AA-12 automatic twelve gauge shotgun. It held cylinders of twenty rounds, and could fire up to three hundred rounds per minute. The load was buckshot, for maximum effect. He carried a few drums of three inch slugs in his pack as well.