Quantum

53

Kilkenny stood outside the airport hangar and watched the small, military passenger jet taxi off the runway. The pilot deftly brought the aircraft to a stop over the painted markings on the tarmac just a few feet from where he stood. The twin-jet engines mounted on the tail slowly wound down, their high pitch dropping in both tone and volume.

The door of the aircraft shuddered, then slid open. The copilot lowered the built-in stairs and stepped aside to let his passengers disembark. First off was a muscular man of about fifty with dark ebony skin and a close-cropped Afro flecked with gray. He stood a few inches shorter than Kilkenny; the collar of his battle-dress uniform bore the stars of a newly frocked rear admiral. Over his right breast was the gold pistol and trident emblem of Navy SEALs.

Kilkenny greeted Rear Admiral Jack Dawson with a crisp salute.

‘Good to see you, Nolan,’ Dawson said as he returned Kilkenny’s salute. ‘Sorry it’s not under better circumstances.’

‘Thanks for coming, Jack.’

‘Just following orders. After the folks at Langley gave the Secretary of Defense the situation report, he agreed it would be best if we dealt with these Spetsnaz mercenaries.’

Dawson and Kilkenny first met back when the admiral was still a captain, then in charge of the SEALs training facility in Coronado, California, and Kilkenny was a BUD/S trainee. A few months after Kilkenny was assigned to SEAL Team Four in Little Creek, Virginia, Dawson assumed command of the team. The respect and loyalty the two men had for each other led them to become close friends.

‘The stars look good on you,’ Kilkenny said, commenting on Dawson’s recent promotion to flag rank and his new assignment as commander of Navy Special Warfare Group Two.

‘The upgrade has some benefits, but it’s added another layer of bureaucracy between me and my men. At least I’m in a position to do some good for ’em.’

‘The maps and intel are waiting for you back at my place, along with a CIA guy named Cal Mosley. He’s coordinating things on this end. My dad will lead you back there,’ Nolan said, pointing to his father’s truck.

The nine men who followed Dawson off the jet formed a human chain that ran from the plane’s cargo hold into Sean Kilkenny’s Explorer and a pair of rented Ford Expeditions that were parked beside the hangar. They quickly off-loaded the duffels containing their gear and stowed them in the SUVs for the next leg of their journey. Master Chief Max Gates, a balding, barrel-chested NCO with forearms that would make Popeye proud, led the obscene cadence that accompanied their labor. Gates had been Kilkenny’s right hand during his tour with the SEALs.

Kilkenny recognized most of the men. In his past life, he and Gates had led Gilgallon, Hepburn, Darvas, Rodriguez, and Detmer on missions around the world, and each was like a brother to him. Edwards, the young lieutenant who’d replaced him, Kilkenny knew only by reputation. The two remaining men, Ahsan and Gorski, had worked with Kilkenny’s squad on several occasions — they were the sniper team.

After the squad stowed their gear, the lieutenant led them over to Dawson and Kilkenny.

‘Squad One is ready to move out, sir,’ the young man said with a crisp salute.

‘Well done, Lieutenant,’ Dawson replied as he returned the salute. ‘At ease, men.’

The SEALs relaxed, broke ranks, and encircled Kilkenny and Dawson.

‘Lieutenant Jeremy Edwards,’ Dawson said, ‘I’d like to introduce your predecessor, Nolan Kilkenny.’

‘A pleasure to meet you, sir. Chief Gates and the men speak highly of you.’

‘They’re a good crew,’ Kilkenny replied as he shook Edwards’s hand. ‘You’re a ring-knocker, I see. I’m an Annapolis grad, too. Good luck, Lieutenant.’

‘Thanks.’

‘Men,’ Dawson boomed out so all could hear, ‘a little background on this op. One of the hostages we’re going after is a very close personal friend of Kilkenny’s. Now he may no longer be in uniform, but he’s still one of us. That makes this personal.’

‘Hoo-yah!’ the squad shouted back.

‘Nolan,’ Gates said in a thick Oklahoma drawl, ‘you have my word, we’ll get Kelsey back for you.’

Kilkenny grasped Gates’s hand firmly. ‘I know you will, Max. I know you will.’

‘All right, everybody!’ Dawson shouted, excited at the opportunity to operate at the squad level. ‘Let’s move out.’

Dawson rode with Sean Kilkenny in the Explorer. Behind them, Edwards and Gates piloted the Expeditions. Kilkenny watched as the small convoy rolled onto State Street.

As they disappeared from view, Cooper walked over from his rented Taurus.

‘Bet you wish you were going with them.’

‘You’d win that bet,’ Kilkenny admitted. ‘But this is the way it has to be. Hell, I’ve been off the team for almost two years. That’s an eternity in terms of training. If I went along, I’d just be baggage. The lead belongs to Edwards now, and my old NCO tells me he’s good at it. They’ll get the job done, and that’s exactly what Kelsey and Elli need right now, not me riding in with guns blazing, playing the hero.’

‘Well, we’ve got our own job ahead of us,’ Cooper said, ‘and it’s time for us to catch our flight to Moscow.’