“What the hell?” Saxton said.
“My diversion worked,” Rapp said as the firing continued. “Maybe a little too well.”
“What do you mean?”
“I was hoping to send the group nearest us down the tunnel so that we could slide by them and make for the cave’s entrance,” Rapp said.
“Instead, you tricked them into shooting up their friends,” Saxton said.
“Sounds that way,” Rapp said.
“Which means if we try to sneak by, we’re liable to catch a bullet,” Saxton said. “What’s the play?”
Rapp shrugged and then realized Saxton couldn’t see the gesture. “Hide here until the shooting stops. Sooner or later, they’ll realize they have a blue-on-blue incident.”
“Or run out of ammo.”
“That works too,” Rapp said. “Once the jihadis quit filling the air with lead, we can reassess. If they’ve done enough damage, maybe we can finish the job with the ammo we have on hand. If not, we sneak past and make for the entrance. The darkness is still our friend.”
Then the overhead lights flickered.
CHAPTER 37
THE presence of thermals at the northern end of the cave complex wasn’t surprising.
According to the digital timer at the top right corner of Coleman’s tablet, the artillery bombardment had been going on for two minutes. By now the shock had worn off and the battle-hardened instincts of the cave’s occupants would have taken over. While he vehemently disagreed with everything his Taliban adversaries stood for, Coleman had been in enough scuffles with the jihadis to respect the courage and tenacity of these mountain fighters. Staying huddled in their cave fortress might keep them safe from the artillery barrage, but it also meant they’d be sitting ducks for an advancing force. The mountain men were not stupid. It made sense that a few of the fighters would venture onto the ridgeline to scout out what the Americans were planning.
The question was what to do about the jihadis.
“Ghost 7, Chaos Main, stand by for SITREP, over.”
The radio transmission gave Coleman an excuse to pause his deliberations.
“Go for Ghost 7,” Coleman said.
“Roger that, 7. Be advised that Ironman has made contact. He has the precious cargo in hand and is egressing WILLIS time now, over.”
Will bottomed the ATV into a dry ravine before turning the vehicle north. While the Recon Marine could sneak and peek with the best of them, Coleman thought Will might have missed his calling. He was the Mario Andretti of off-road driving. Which was actually a bit of a problem. Will was a minute ahead of schedule, which meant that Coleman needed to start the smoke barrage ahead of schedule too.
Unless Rapp’s update meant that the diversion was no longer needed.
“Understood, Chaos Main,” Coleman said. “Are you in contact with Ironman, over?”
“Stand by, Ghost 7.”
The answer struck Coleman as odd.
Though the person manning the radio probably wasn’t an operator, Coleman would have expected the man to anticipate his question. If Rapp was still on the line, of course Coleman would want to know. The rescue mission had gone well so far, but the hard part was still ahead. The greatest opportunity for fratricide always occurred when friendly elements had to link up on the battlefield.
Throw an artillery barrage and some pissed-off cavemen into the mix, and Coleman knew there was a very real chance the wrong person might catch a bullet even with the help of Rapp’s special shirt. If he could talk directly to Rapp, Coleman could get a better sense of where his friend expected to emerge from the cave complex and learn what was potentially waiting for his team at the evac point.
Will eased off the gas after turning the MRZR’s nose north. The entrance to the complex was only a hundred meters or so on the other side of the small foothill to their front. Once Will summited the rising terrain, Coleman and his crew would be visible to any defenders and therefore committed.
Decision time.
“Ghost 7, this is Chaos Main Actual. We are no longer in contact with Ironman. I say again, we are no longer in contact with Ironman, over.”
For the first time Will turned his attention from the road to meet Coleman’s gaze. The Marine didn’t speak. He didn’t have to. Coleman didn’t know the J-Bad chief of base well, but the Chaos Main Actual call sign meant that Steve had chosen to relay the update himself rather than rely on his radio operator.
This was telling.
As was the tremor in the CIA officer’s voice.
“Understood, Chaos Main Actual,” Coleman said. “What was the last thing you heard before you lost contact with Ironman, over?”
“Gunshots.”
CHAPTER 38
COLEMAN could forgive Steve for his less-than-steady radio voice, but he couldn’t condone it. The J-Bad chief of base might be accustomed to high-pressure situations, but projecting calm in the middle of a kinetic operation that was going to shit was an acquired skill. Even so, the team leader’s job was to be the eye of the storm. The center of tranquility for the rest of the operatives.
As Coleman had learned early in his career as a SEAL, maintaining control of your emotions wasn’t just some macho bullshit. Fear was contagious.
But so was courage.
“Roger all, Chaos Main Actual,” Coleman said, transmitting into the void before the bad news the CIA officer had just relayed could take root. “That isn’t unusual when Ironman is in the mix. What’s the status on Havok 6, over?”
“Break, break, Chaos 7, this is Havok 6,” Mark Garner said. “We are two minutes from WILLIS. Are we a go, over?”
