“Sir. Yes, sir.”
“Go then.”
She went.
The team was waiting for him by the time Masters got back to their headquarters in the subbasement.
“So?” Rankin asked as soon as he walked in.
“We’re deploying to Barrow, Alaska,” he said. “Draw cold-weather kit from the base supply and meet at the airfield in four hours.”
“What’s the mission?” Hale spoke up, not moving even slightly from where he was sitting.
“Officially, a simple peek and poke,” Masters answered. “CBR gear is being assigned to us because the cover story is that there was a chemical leak from the nearby oil wells.”
Robbie Keyz winced. “That’s just a story right? Chem gear sucks, and bio stuff gives me the heebie-jeebies.”
“As far as we know, yes, it’s just a story.” Masters rolled his eyes.
Keyz had a lot of nerve, talking about biochem gear that way. He gave everyone around him the creeps just wondering if he was packing anything that might go boom if jostled improperly.
“As far as we know?” Keyz demanded, grimacing even more clearly. “What do we know?”
“We know we need eyes on, and that’s us. We leave in four hours,” Masters said again. “Go pack your kits, draw what you need from supply, and don’t be late.”
They grumbled, which was exactly the reaction he would have expected from experienced operators, but moved out quickly. Also as expected.
Once the area was clear, Masters returned his attention to the tablet the admiral had given him, and began a more in-depth examination of the files within. He didn’t know what was going on up in Alaska, but someone had dropped the case on Karson, and he was the guy who’d helped assemble this little spook squad. That meant that someone saw more into this than he was seeing, and Masters didn’t like that one little bit.
While he was working, he felt more than saw Rankin approach from the side.
“What is it?” he asked without looking up.
“I don’t see Norton around.”
“Well, thanks for stating the obvious. He’ll be here.” Masters sighed.
“Four hours, man. That’s not a whole helluva lot of time,” Rankin pointed out. “I know you know this shit, but no one knows the other side of the veil like Alex Norton.”
“I am aware of that. He’ll show up in time.”
“All right,” Rankin said, shaking his head. “I hope you’re right.”
Masters watched him go, then glanced down at his watch. Damn it, Norton, where the hell are you?
The convertible stopped alongside the road, and a young woman leaned out the passenger side, her concerned eyes focused on the man who was casually ambling along the interstate.
“Do you need a ride, mister?” she called, openly wincing at the black-garbed man, wondering why he hadn’t collapsed from the heat.
“No, I’m fine…,” he said as he turned. He took note of the presence of a second young woman behind the wheel, and the fact that both women were scantily clad. “You know what, I actually could use a lift. I believe I may be running late.”
“Where are you headed?” the driver asked as he walked over to the car and tossed his small shoulder bag into the backseat before hopping in himself.
“Coronado,” he said with a grin. “Some friends there are waiting on me.”
“Cool. We’re going into San Diego,” the passenger told him.
“That’ll do just fine, ladies,” he smiled. “I’m Alexander by the way. Alexander Norton, but you can just call me Alex.”
CHAPTER 7
“He’ll be here.”
Rankin’s sarcasm went right over Masters’s head as he lifted a heavy duffel out of the back of the open Humvee, letting the bag thud to the ground. He looked up. “Sorry, did you say something?”
“Oh don’t even…,” Rankin scowled, shaking his head.
“Grab the other bag,” Masters said. “We have a plane to catch, remember?”
The master chief snorted, but lifted the other bag out of the Hummer with a grunt. “Damn it, what did you throw in here? The whole armory?”
“Close enough,” Masters said as he hefted his personal duffel in one hand, picked up the extra in the other, and started to walk to the plane.
Rankin did the same in a huff, muscling up a few hundred pounds of gear before staggering off after Masters. “Damn it, bro, don’t blow this off. You’re good, but we need Alex, and you know it.”
“Look, either he’s here or he’s not,” Masters responded, not slowing or turning around. “Either way we have a job to do. You planning on turning your back on us?”
“Hey, fuck you!” Rankin hissed under his breath, glancing around to see if anyone else was close enough to hear him. “I was there in that damned Zodiac, same as you. I may not have dug in as deeply as you since then, but the two of us are standing on the wrong side of this damned thing. Don’t you talk to me like I’m some FNG who just pinned his BUD.”
Masters stopped, dropping the two bags to the ground, where they hit with a thud hard enough to kick up some of the dust and sand that had been blown onto the tarmac.
“Look,” he said, glaring at his friend, “I’m sorry if you think I’m giving you the mushroom treatment, or if you feel like you’re nothing but fresh meat again, but what the hell do you want me to do? Alex isn’t here, and we have a job to do. One way or another, I’m getting eyes onto the situation up north. You want to transfer out of this unit? Too fucking late. Put in your request when we get back.”
Rankin rocked back on his heels for a moment; then he slowly smiled. “So, you’re still in there, are you?”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“After the way you dealt with the admiral this morning, I was starting to worry that you’d lost it,” Rankin admitted, “gone civvie on us. Nice to see that there’s still an officer in there after all.”
“Oh, fuck off, and get on the goddamned plane,” Masters growled, picking up the duffels again.
“Sir, yes, sir, Lieutenant Commander, sir,” Rankin said as he double-timed it on ahead.
“Pain in the ass,” Masters growled, picking up the two duffels at his feet and following the master chief up the stairs and into the cabin, where the rest of the men had already gathered.
“I see we’re getting first-class treatment on this run,” Nathan Hale said as he strapped down his rifle case and looked around the stripped-down cabin of the C-20 Gulfstream.
“It’s the fastest plane the admiral could lay his hands on, given the notice,” Masters said, heaving his duffel bags down on top of where Rankin had set his down. “Don’t get used to it.”
Nathan laughed. “Wasn’t planning on it. Any new intel on the mission?”
“Just that things don’t look good,” Masters said as he stowed his personal kit. “We’ve got to determine what the hell went down up there, and if it’s something for the regular authorities or if we’re taking this one ourselves.”
“Lovely.” Nathan took a seat, leaning it all the way back. “Wake me up when we reach Alaska.”
As the sniper settled in for a nap, Masters turned, freezing in place as he watched another person climb into the cabin.
“Captain,” he said coolly.
“Lieutenant Commander,” Andrews returned in a matching tone.
“With all due respect, Captain, there won’t be any liaising from here on out. You should remain in Coronado.”
“Your respect,” she said, “is noted. But the admiral wants an observer on this mission, and I’m it.”
Hawk Masters grimaced, looking away for a moment. “That goddamned idiot. He doesn’t seem to understand that the more people who get involved means the more people who die.”