“How do you know it’s gonna be secret?”
“Well, CIA usually means that,” Ortiz responded. “But I don’t wanna scare you. Let’s go and see what the LT’s gotta say.”
Ortiz heard the low whup-whup sound of the transport helicopter. They picked up their gear and joined the rest of the men standing by the LZ.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
GAME PLAN
Hunter stepped up to the array of microphones. As far as the rest of the world was concerned, the mission was going as planned. He cleared his throat and began to read the short statement on the status of Lightning.
“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen of the press. First of all, I would like to say on behalf of NASA that we appreciate your patience while waiting here these last two hours. We apologize. The Lightning crew will be awakening from their rest period in another three hours, at which time we’ll be able to provide you with live coverage of the interior of the orbiter. I would like to state at this point that Lightning will be joined shortly by Atlantis for an emergency drill. NASA’s current plan — assuming Congress approves our budget — is to have all modules of Freedom ferried into space and fully operational before the end of the decade. This means far more frequent shuttle flights than ever before, which also means we must be better prepared and trained to handle emergencies in outer space if one should occur. Ladies and gentlemen of the press, the Lightning-Atlantis joint mission is to prove that we can indeed send an orbiter up in space at a moment’s notice for whatever reason. We at NASA decided that a simulated emergency would be best. That’s the end of my statement. I will take questions now.”
Almost instantly three reporters raised their hands.
“Yes, the lady in the back?”
“Mr. Hunter, Ellen Nunez, AP. Why the secrecy? Why wait until now to tell us this?”
Hunter slowly shook his head and smiled thinly. “We are conducting a training mission in emergency procedures, Ms. Nunez. It would hardly be effective if there were advance warnings. Therefore it was essential that it remain secret until the very last minute.”
“So, this is a drill then?” she asked.
“That’s correct, and in the process, the astronauts in Lightning will check out the orbiter for commercial use.”
“Is Atlantis carrying any commercial or military payloads?”
“Atlantis is still carrying its scheduled payload.”
Hunter inhaled deeply and forced his face to remain relaxed as he scanned the room and noticed several hands up in the air. He had lied to the world, and could only hope it would not come back to haunt him someday.
The hum of the air-conditioning unit disturbed Ortiz as he sat next to Zimmer in the brightly lit briefing room. Siegel kept checking his watch every minute or so as he continued to pace back and forth in the front of the room. The entire platoon had been waiting for the CIA officials to arrive for the past hour, but still saw no sign of them. Outside the brick building, each man’s gear sat neatly packed in a row next to the entrance. They were ready, Ortiz felt. Day or night, he truly believed Mambo could handle anything.
“They’re pretty late, hermano,” he whispered to Zimmer, who had his eyes closed. The Bronx native opened his eyes, turned his head, and shrugged.
“Figures,” he responded. “The grunts are always th’ ones that gotta wait.”
Ortiz rubbed his hand over his short-cropped black hair and felt a scar he’d gotten during a fight many years ago. Hair had never grown back on that particular spot of his skull. He thought of it as a constant reminder of his past.
Siegel’s short barracks briefing an hour ago had been vague. All he knew was that they would be heading south of there, that it would involve jungle warfare, and that the operation would last up to twenty-four hours. Nothing else. No idea on what they were going after, no information on the size of the opposition’s force, or on their weapons. Was it a rescue mission? Had a guerrilla group kidnapped someone the CIA deemed important enough to go in and rescue? Or was it an assassination mission of some sort?
Ortiz shook his head. Too many questions. He checked his watch. The CIA guys were really late.
Suddenly the door in the back of the room flew open. Several heads turned. Ortiz spotted the base’s commanding officer, General Jack Olson, followed by two men and a woman. All three wore civilian clothes; Ortiz had never seen them before.
“Ten-hut!” Siegel called out.
The entire platoon jumped to attention.
“At ease, men,” Olson said as he walked ahead of the three civilians, who Ortiz suspected were the CIA officials. One of the two men was much older than the other. The older one was a large-framed man with thin, brownish hair. The second was a bit shorter and thinner but muscular. The woman seemed to be her late thirties, but very attractive.
“All right people, sit down and listen up,” Olson began. “The following information is highly classified. Lieutenant Siegel’s platoon has been selected for a very critical mission of great national interest. I want all to provide your platoon leader with your fullest support and listen carefully to what Mr. Thomas Pruett has to say. He is Head of Clandestine Services, CIA. The gentleman to his left is Mr. Cameron Stone. He is the CIA field officer that uncovered the criminal activity that will be the subject of this briefing. Next to him is Mrs. Marie Guilloux. She has visited the target area and might help answer some of your questions. I want to remind all of you that you belong to the 7th Special Forces Detachment Delta, and thus all of the information you are about to hear is confidential. With that, I’ll turn it over to you, sir.” Olson stepped to the side. Pruett and Stone took a few large black-and-white photographs from a briefcase and began pinning them to the corkboard while Marie looked on.
“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” Pruett began. “I’ll be brief since we don’t have much time. I’ll go over the basics of the operation here, and then I’ll cover all the details and be more than happy to answer questions when we’re in the air.”
He walked over to the board and pointed at the first photograph. “In exactly six hours and twenty minutes, a rocket containing what is supposed to be a commercial satellite will be launched from this facility located in the city of Kourou, French Guiana.” He circled the small city with his index finger. “Our intelligence data tells us that the actual purpose of that rocket is not to deploy a satellite in space, but to deploy a drone, a satellite lookalike, that is intended to collide with the space shuttle Lightning.”
Ortiz was stunned. He could hardly believe something like this was actually happening. Before anyone could say anything, Pruett continued.
“A C-145 StarLifter is scheduled to depart this base in ten minutes, gentlemen. It will take you to French Guiana, where you will parachute down in the jungle, destroy the rocket before it is launched, and quickly retreat to a rendezvous point, where a helicopter from the U.S.S. Blue Ridge, currently sailing near the Venezuelan coast, will be waiting for you. We’ll cover mission specifics on the way over. We’re short on time.”
Olson walked back to the front of the room. “Men, this is a covert operation, and as such, we cannot force you to go along. The mission poses certain dangers, since you might run into some degree of opposition. How much? We have not been able to determine that exactly as of just yet — perhaps Mrs. Guilloux might be able to give you some details on the way — but there will be some resistance at the launch site for sure. I’m telling it to you like it is, men. Most of you have heard of me. I’m not going to stand here and blow sunshine up your ass, but I will say that you’re one of the Armed Force’s elite fighting units. This is what you have been trained for, but given the circumstances, if any of you wants out, you can simply walk to your barracks instead of to the plane. There will be no dishonor in it.