“Jesus, Hawk. Have you fucking lost your mind?” Eddie demanded once the admiral had left. “That was Karson, for Christ’s sakes! He’s on the SOCOM command board.”
“Fuck him.” Hawk shrugged, reading as he spoke. “He doesn’t know shit about what’s going on, and as long as that’s true he can’t do a damned thing to me.”
“Besides toss your ass in Leavenworth, you mean?”
“Sounds nice. Big strong walls, armed guards — I could use the relaxation,” Hawk said. “Now shut it and check this out.”
Eddie scowled, but walked over and leaned in to check out the file. “What’s this?”
“Something’s going on up in Barrow, Alaska. They sent some state troopers up there along with some guard boys,” Masters said. “Lost contact.”
“Lost contact? In country?” Eddie scoffed. “Did they forget to charge their damned cell phones?”
“No answer, not on any frequency — cell phone, landlines…They even sent e-mails,” Masters replied. “Looks like they tried everything but smoke signals. There’s a Coast Guard cutter off shore that even tried signal code.”
“Holy shit. Someone stepped in a big steaming turd,” Eddie muttered. “Any ideas?”
“Yeah. No good ones, though,” Masters said, opening some pictures. “The satellite photos don’t look promising, I can tell you that. Check this out.”
The images had been taken in low light, and they’d obviously been enhanced by computers at the NRO, but Eddie Rankin was used to decoding lousy surveillance pictures and these weren’t half bad. He stared for a long moment, his mind parsing the shapes he was looking at, then let out a low and long whistle.
“Are those bodies?”
“Yeah. You remember the drone pics we got out of Darfur?” Hawk asked.
“All too well. Jesus, this is in Alaska?” Rankin didn’t want to believe it.
“Yeah, I don’t know what the hell is going on up there, but I’ll stake any wager you like that it’s not a damned riot.” Hawk switched the tablet off and paced the room for a moment.
“Is it one of ours, though?”
“That’s the question,” Hawk admitted, shaking his head. “There’s not enough information yet to tell for sure…but damn it, it’s fucking Alaska, Eddie. What the hell else could it be? The Russians invading?”
Eddie snorted.
That was so unlikely, it made the supernatural seem downright pedestrian in comparison. Not that the Russians didn’t have the capability, mind you. Despite public opinion, what remained of the Soviet empire was no group of pansies. The Spetsnaz could easily have pulled off something like this, if they’d had reason to do so and something to gain. What they couldn’t have done was pull it off so cleanly that the NRO and NSA had no indicators at all, and that’s what made the file confusing.
No one could pull off something like this without there being something in the intel pipeline. Often signs were overlooked, only obvious in hindsight, but the file contained reports from both agencies as well as the CIA, and they had no indicators pointing to Alaska, let alone Barrow.
In the modern world, no one spoofed signal intercepts like that. No one. That left something that wasn’t from the modern world.
“What do you want to do?” he finally asked.
Hawk hesitated briefly, then shook his head. “No choice. Call the boys in, and tell them to pack warm. We’re going to get eyes on and find out for ourselves what the fuck is going on.”
“All right, you got it,” Eddie agreed. “Where are you going?”
Hawk shrugged as he walked over to the door. “Need to beg the admiral for marching orders, supplies, and some transport.”
Eddie snorted — he couldn’t help it. Only Masters would intentionally annoy the shit out of someone and then head over to beg for favors. “Good luck with that.”
Captain Andrews carefully kept quiet as she watched the admiral out of the corner of her eye. He’d been silent ever since they’d gotten back to his temporary office, and it was painfully clear that he was in no mood for conversation at the moment, not that she blamed him.
She’d thought that Masters was a bit off since the moment she’d met him, not to mention the team of people he’d called up. A bag of mixed nuts was the best descriptor she could imagine for them, short of falling into obscenities.
I don’t know what this project is all about, but if I didn’t know any better, I’d think that the admiral was building some sort of suicide squad.
The idea was chilling, but as much as she didn’t want to believe it, it fit the facts. The only problem she had was that she couldn’t imagine what they’d be used for. It might make sense if they were actual criminals, men who could be disavowed more easily, but for all their colorful records, they were still SEALs in good standing. Even Masters once again held his security clearance, so there was no clean way to disavow them as a group. Individually, it would be more possible, she supposed.
Whatever was going on, it was clear that Masters had either some sort of leverage on the admiral, or he was certifiably insane.
Speaking of which…
Her train of thought was derailed when the subject of that particular train wreck knocked on the door and waited patiently, suddenly all military in his bearing.
“Enter,” Karson ground out, waiting until Masters was standing in front of him before he continued. “Have you reviewed the file?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Opinion?”
Masters considered the question for a moment, then spoke quickly but calmly. “Send us up to get eyes on. I can’t determine anything from what’s in the files, but I don’t like the looks of the situation.”
“What’s to like? We’ve lost a whole deployment of guardies, not to mention the state troopers and maybe the whole damn town.” Karson shook his head. “I’ll get you your plane.”
“Thank you, sir. Let’s keep everyone else clear of the area until we check it out. Biohazard maybe?”
“Chemical spill.” Karson nodded. “Something from the oil wells maybe. I’ll have a suitable story circulated. Who knows? It may even be true.”
“Yes, sir,” Masters said. “I’ll have my team ready to go in four hours.”
“The jet will be waiting for you,” Karson replied, nodding. “Good luck.”
Andrews watched as Masters saluted the admiral like a real navy man, turned on his heel, and then strode out. The entire situation was so bizarre, and she didn’t know what to think of any of it.
“Confused, Captain?”
She turned back, startled by the admiral’s question, but managed to stammer out a reply. “Uh…yessir.”
“So am I.”
She frowned, started to say something, but was stopped when he held up his hand.
“Don’t ask. You aren’t cleared for it.”
“Yessir,” she said again. What else was there to say? “Do you want me to go with them, sir?”
Karson looked up, his eyes level with hers for a moment. Honestly, he hadn’t considered it. Women didn’t take on ground-combat roles in the US military — it just wasn’t done. That said, this was a deployment on US soil and, on paper at least, it should primarily be a scouting mission. There was also the fact that he wanted very badly to know what Masters seemed to know.
After a long moment he nodded. “Pack your things.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Captain,” Karson called out after her before she could close the door.
She turned around. “Sir?”
“Masters is in command of his team, and you’re only there to observe,” he told her. “Watch him. I want to know what he knows and how he knows it…but most of all I want to know what the hell is going on. Clear?”