“The other helicopter? How far away?”
“Two hundred yards before the blast. I’ve never seen anything like it. It was like one of those old Army movies….”
John scanned again, maxing out the VISOR’s range, but there was nothing.
The grim look on Deion’s face indicated he had reached the same conclusion. There were fifteen men on the other Sea Knight, plus a pilot, copilot, and one crew member. Unless they had life vests and were bobbing in the water — their temperature so close the VISOR couldn’t distinguish — the men were gone.
His coms crackled and a voice came through. It was Eric, cutting in and out, but John could make out the gist. “John? Are you there? We’re getting telemetry so I know you’re alive.”
“We made it,” he said softly. “The other Sea Knight didn’t.”
“Don’t worry, the USS Peleliu will send out rescue helicopters as soon as they can. They took a hit from the EMP, but they’re getting their systems back online. Just hold tight.”
He laughed at the absurdity. “Yeah, we’ll hold tight.”
Deion patted him on the shoulder. “Tell Steeljaw we’re not getting paid enough for this shit.”
Eric glanced around the War Room, overwhelmed by the silence. The analysts stared at the row of monitors on the far wall, stunned, and Eric didn’t blame them. It was the first above-ground detonation of a nuclear device in years, and the first by a terrorist group. John had survived — as well as the other OTM members — but the military had lost a Sea Knight and eighteen men, including a list of Operators that he knew directly or by reputation.
He wanted to hang his head, to seek out comfort from Karen, but he had a job. He was the base commander and the Assistant Director of the OTM. Doubts and fears could come later, in private. He stood and nodded to Sergeant Todd Clark.
“Commander on deck,” Sergeant Clark barked.
The analysts turned to him. Their faces were confused and some were panicked. He cleared his throat. “Clearly this an upsetting event.” He searched their faces until he found Karen’s. “Kryzowski, I want a working theory on what happened in the next thirty minutes.” She smiled and saluted, and he knew she was happy to be his steady port in an unsteady storm.
“Sergeant Clark” he continued, “coordinate the rescue with the USS Peleliu.” Clark saluted. Eric searched the room until he found the face of Jack Rollings, their lead Middle East analyst. “Rollings, contact JSOC and inform them of the failure. They’ll have questions. Don’t answer them. Information flows from us to them, not the other way around.”
Rollings saluted and turned back to his workstation.
Eric addressed the rest. “We still have an active mission, people. Let’s get back to work and get it done.”
“You heard the man,” Sergeant Clark snapped. “Make it happen!”
Having rallied the War Room, he turned to go, but caught Karen’s eye. He gave her a small smile and a barely perceptible nod, which she returned before turning her attention back to her monitor. He made his way to the empty conference room and shut the door, then called Nancy in Turkey.
She appeared on the wall monitor, hair tucked behind her ears, her face wooden.
“I’m assuming you heard all that?” he asked.
“Yes. I was still plugged in. Good call, focusing them on their work.”
“It’s normal human emotion. A physiological response to external stimuli. It’s how they react to those emotions that counts.”
“Dealing with emotions? That’s what you learned in Delta?”
“Are we talking about you or me?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Something I’ve realized about myself. I’ve had the training, but I’m no soldier. You said it yourself. I recognize that as a weakness. Perhaps I need better control of my emotions.”
It struck him, then, that Nancy was confiding in him. She was admitting that her emotions often boiled over. Perhaps Karen was wrong. Perhaps Nancy wasn’t as close to psychopathic as they feared. He tried to view Nancy not as Fulton Smith’s daughter, but as a valuable member of the OTM. “It’s okay to feel. One thing I did learn in Delta? If you recognize your emotions, accept them and move on, you can still accomplish your mission. Feelings don’t make you weak.”
She regarded him thoughtfully. “I’m trying, Eric. I realize my behavior hasn’t always been… appropriate. I realize being the Old Man’s daughter provided certain allowances. I don’t want my position because of nepotism. I want my position because I’ve earned it.”
“I have faith in you,” Eric said. “Since you want to earn your position, perhaps you should be the one to contact your father and explain what happened.”
Her eyes widened and her face flushed. “This is what I get for trying to be a better person?”
He laughed before he could stop himself. “You’ll be fine. Besides, I still have an ongoing operation.”
“How close is the USS Orlando?”
He thumbed a button on the remote control and the display split into two, Nancy’s conference call on the left, the mission feed on the right. “They’re in position. They’ll board the MV Rising Star in fifteen. We need to find out who killed the men in Aleppo, and what triggered that bomb.”
Petty Officer Terrence Hurd waited with the rest of his team in the dry deck shelter attached to the hull of the USS Orlando. The dry deck shelter was cramped, and he performed the mental exercises he used to remain calm in tight spaces.
He inspected the faces of his fellow teammates, all members of DEVGRU, or as the public knew them, SEAL Team Six. Chief Petty Officer Rick Kropf was in a deep discussion with Dwayne Bowen from the CIA’s Special Operations Group. Bowen was one of their own, a member of DEVGRU before being recruited by SOG. The man was practically a legend, mentally tough, ridiculously fit, with a razor-sharp mind.
Their mission was simple. They would exit the dry deck shelter, use the SEAL delivery vehicle to approach the MV Rising Star, and board the cargo ship. They would take control of the vessel before the crew could react and perform a deck by deck sweep, looking for radiological threats.
He tried to contain his excitement. They had trained for missions like this, but this was no training mission. Every SEAL dreamed of an operation that would change the world, and he had finally made it. Across from him, David Vrooman checked his HK416. For this mission, they were inserting plastic plugs in the barrel to keep out the seawater. The ammunition was airtight. When they surfaced, all they had to do was shake out their guns and the first round would blow out the plug. After the mission, the HK’s would receive a thorough cleaning and oiling. Still, they went through weapons faster than most SEAL teams.
He checked his face mask. It was his most complex piece of gear, combining his oxygen supply with NVG’s. Once aboard, he would pull the front mask off, turn off the air supply, and be ready for action. It was a far cry from their usual tanks and gear, but in a mission like this, there wasn’t time to stow their normal equipment.
Vrooman looked up and grinned in the dim light. “This is gonna be major. You know that, right? Liesner would give his left nut to be here.”
Carter Liesner was their friend, one they’d first met during BUD/S training. Liesner had washed out but passed on his second go-around. They gave him a constant string of shit over it, because Liesner always overcompensated, constantly trying to outdo everyone on the team. It made Liesner a hell of a soldier and he missed the younger man. “Shame he couldn’t be here.”
Petty Officer Brian Cozak leaned over and shook his head. “You’ll never let him hear the end of this. You two are gonna drive him crazy.”