Sniper Elite: One-Way Trip

CHAPTER 63

“Is that them?” General Couture was asking. “Is that them?” Due to the heat of the burning napalm, the infrared camera feed from the UAV was impossible to make out, so the operator had switched the feed coming in from a satellite to an unfiltered lens generally used for daytime observation. By the light of the fire, they could see two men crawling past the flames where globs of napalm had splattered the ground, partially blocking their retreat up the pass.

One of the figures jumped up to run, caught on fire, and fell back down, attempting to roll out the flames. The other figure jumped onto his head and began beating at the flames to smother them out.

“That’s them, General,” Metcalf said quietly, dominating the nausea he felt in his stomach. He knew that Steelyard was dead. The RPG had struck the ground right behind him. His body had probably absorbed the majority of the blast, enabling Gil and Crosswhite to survive long enough to be bombed by their own people.

“Go! Go!” Couture muttered, watching the two figures struggling along. “Get up and run! Run — don’t give up!”

Something on the infrared UAV feed caught the attention of the Air Force lieutenant. She switched the view to the bigger of the two screens without asking the general. Twenty mounted horsemen were riding south from the Khawak Pass toward the wall of fire that shielded the Americans from the view of the village.

“Now they come!” Couture said, throwing his hands up. “A day late and a dollar short. Fucking hell — what have you people been waiting for?”

The major stood up at the back of the room, calling, “General! The president is on the line, sir.”

Couture went to the back of the room and took the phone. “Yes, Mr. President?”

The president didn’t waste any time coming to the point. “What’s happened, General? Do we have her or not?”

“Yes, sir. She’s aboard an AC-130J as we speak, bound for Bagram Air Base. She’s been shot, but we’ve got our top surgeons standing by on the tarmac. The medic aboard the aircraft reports that her vital signs are weak but stable. It sounds like she should make it, Mr. President. That’s all I can confidently say at this time, sir.”

There was a long pause before the president spoke again. “Okay,” he said with a resigned sigh. “Provided she makes it, General, this is how we’re going to play it… for the good of all. You will prepare an operational brief within twenty-four hours detailing the plans for this operation. It will be entitled Operation Earnest Endeavor. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Mr. President.” Couture was still eyeing the screen. The riders were halfway to where Gil and Crosswhite lay motionless in the road, fire burning all around them, but something was wrong, what were all of those heat signatures in the forest north of the valley sweeping down through the Khawak Pass?

The president continued, “You will submit the brief to my military advisor Tim Hagen, who will then submit it to me for my approval. I will approve the brief as of twenty-four hours ago, and that will be the official story of how this mission was carried off. Understood, General?”

“Cynthia!” Couture shouted into the room. “Upper right of the screen, sweeping south in the trucks! Who the hell are those people?”

“General Couture,” the president said over the phone. “Did you understand what I—”

“I’m going to have to ask you to stand by a moment, Mr. President. We’ve got a situation developing here.” He set the phone down and stepped into the com center as the aerial shot panned around to the north to show a column of more than twenty vehicles racing down from the Hindu Kush toward the Panjshir Valley loaded with men. “Oh, Jesus.”