In the meantime, Wong and the ground team would proceed on their mission, establishing a lookout post to observe the convoy. They would also prepare a diversion, which might be needed to slow or stop the vehicles. Mission complete, they would hike approximately two miles back to the drop point, where A-10s would have dropped the STAR retrieval pods.
Officially, Dixon wasn’t part of the plan.
While the Fulton retrieval system had been used on Spec Op missions in the past, it was admittedly far from routine. Wong had never tried it at night, and in fact had only attempted a Fulton STAR pickup once, during a training mission. The results of that attempt were not worth dwelling on.
Which was why he had avoided the direct question posed by Sergeant Davis, one of the two Delta Force volunteers he was briefing on the mission.
“Hey, answer the question, Major,” said the other sergeant, an E-5 whose last and seemingly only name was Salt. “How did that pickup go?”
Wong cleared his throat. The two Delta Force Green Berets had already seen duty north and had been involved in Panama. Davis was a demolition and com specialist; Salt was reputed to be the best sharpshooter in the Gulf.
“After being dragged fifty feet, the line was released,” said Wong.
“Shit,” said Davis.
“It happens. The second pickup went more smoothly. In any event, my experience isn’t relevant. As long as the weather is clear, the pilot should have no trouble making the pickup.”
“Unless he drags us.”
“That is why I have located the pickup on a slight rise,” noted Wong. “The direction of the plane will take us over low ground.”
“I’ve done this twice,” said Salt. “It ain’t pretty.”
“It needn’t be pretty,” Wong told him. “This is purely voluntary. If you wish to reconsider…”
“Screw that,” said Salt.
“As you wish.” Wong turned back to Davis. “Any other questions?”
“How many people are going to be with the bastard?” Salt asked.
“Assuming that you are referring to Saddam,” said Wong. “That is unclear. There could be as many as a full company or even a battalion. I personally anticipate something along the lines of a platoon. But our concern is not with them. We have merely to spot his vehicle and illuminate it.”
“What happens if they object?”
“We will have a flight of A-10A’s at our disposal. They can provide additional firepower if necessary.”
“Hogs. Okay,” said Salt.
“They don’t fly at night,” said Davis.
“Shit, what’s the difference?” Salt spit on the hangar’s concrete floor. They were alone; Wong had taken the precaution of posting a guard at the entrance. The mission had need-to-know code-word clearance.
“The sergeant is correct,” Wong admitted. “But the A-10s will be equipped with missiles that have infra-red targeting capability. In any event, our job will be a covert one. The enemy should never be aware of our presence.”
“Shit happens,” said Davis doubtfully.
“Shit, from what I’ve seen, Hogs’ll blow up anything you tell them to,” said Salt. “Don’t worry about it.”
“I’m not worrying. I’m just wondering why there aren’t more of us going,” said Davis. “If we had a full team, we could take the bastard out ourselves.”
“Decisions on manpower allocation were not delegated to me,” said Wong.
“Ah, we can still nail him,” said Salt.
“That is the last contingency,” said Wong. “If the F-111s fail to arrive, the A-10s will fill in. Our mission is to remain as clandestine as possible.”
“Clandestine. I like that,” said Salt.
Wong quickly outlined the rest of the package’s responsibilities, noting that the operation would be coordinated by a specially equipped MC-130 ABCCC plane with the call-sign “Wolf.” Electronics jamming and fighter escort would also be available, but were being arranged in a manner that wouldn’t tip off the Iraqis to the operation.
“Just tell us when we go,” said Salt finally.
“We will board the Hercules Combat Talon at 1700,” said Wong. “In the meantime, I have some operational details to review with the air crews.”
“We’ll be ready,” said Davis.
“There is one other facet of the operation that I cannot brief you on,” Wong told them.
“Why not?” Davis asked.
“To do so may jeopardize other aspects of our mission. What I can say is this — at some point, I will have to separate myself from you while you carry out your job.”
“That’s it?” asked Davis.
Wong nodded.
“Where are you going to be?” asked Salt.
“In the vicinity,” said Wong. “Beyond that, I cannot say.”
“You gonna pull that need-to-know bullshit on us?” said Salt.
Wong had debated whether to tell them about Dixon or not; the option had in fact been left up to him. He decided not to. It wasn’t because that would jeopardize Dixon if the team was captured. It was because he realized the men would be reluctant to leave Iraq without Dixon if they knew he was still alive. And it might be necessary to do so.
In fact, it might be necessary for them to leave him. For he had already decided he wasn’t leaving without the young lieutenant.
But there was no need to tell them that.
“I assure you, any decision regarding operational details that I make is only the result of careful consideration,” said Wong. “For everyone’s own good.”
“My father used to say that right before he reared back and whacked us,” said Salt.
“I won’t whack you,” said Wong. “That I guarantee.”
CHAPTER 16
The dirt road dipped and twisted after it slid off the highway, skirting the edge of the hill. Dixon walked along it, not caring that he might be seen — he kept hoping for a sound, for a truck to materialize behind him.
He had seen dilapidated farm buildings down this road yesterday. On one side of the road there had been a fence and a rundown building; opposite it, across the road, was the tiny house where he had stopped to find food. Thinking they were only a hundred yards in from the highway, he kept expecting them to appear, glancing first for the wall, then across the road for the house. He began walking faster, less and less sure of himself — a hundred yards in, two hundred, three hundred, a full mile. His whole sense of direction was thrown off, his sense of reality jumbled. Where was the damn wall? Had he imagined the house? Was he even where he thought he was?
He’d killed several men here. No way could he have imagined it.
When he finally saw the low pile of rubble marking the start of a wall on the left side of the road he felt a jolt of excitement, almost as if he had spotted the spire of his hometown church over the trees on the highway leading to his town. He’d hidden behind that wall yesterday.
Seeing the house sobered him up. Half of it was gone, the roof wrecked and the walls blackened where they weren’t simply rubble.
It had been whole yesterday. He’d gone there for food, only to be chased by a small squad of Iraqis. They’d missed him at first when he hid across the street; then the woman got caught in the crossfire. He’d killed the first group but barely escaped a second, which didn’t bother hunting him down — they simply blew up the house.
There had been a baby in the back room. Dixon left him to escape, figuring the Iraqis wouldn’t harm him. A moment after he jumped out the back of the building, it exploded.