Target America

44

Pope stood in the cargo bay of the C-5, staring thoughtfully at the sat phone in his hand.

“What did he say?” Gil asked.

“They figured out what we’re up to. We’ve been ordered to stand down while the president calls the Canadian prime minister.”

“Shit,” Crosswhite muttered. “We can have our hands on the al-Rashids in less than an hour. Hell, it’ll take that long just to get the Canadians up to speed. Doesn’t the president realize the clock is ticking?”

“Of course he does. That’s why I think it’s a trap.”

Gil stole glances with Crosswhite. “What kind of trap?”

“After what we pulled in Afghanistan,” Pope said, “they have to think we’re as likely to disobey an order as we are to follow it. That’s why we’re the ones chasing the bomb: the more unstable the aircraft, the more maneuverable it is. Same principle.” He took off his baseball cap and stood scratching his head, beginning to see Tim Hagen’s fingers in the pie. “What do you think, Gil? Want to sneak over and grab them anyhow? I honestly think that’s what the president’s counting on, knowing he can’t order us to do it. And this way, he can disavow us all if something goes wrong.”

“I’ll take two men across in a Zodiac.”

“Actually, I’d rather you sent Crosswhite in your place,” Pope said. The implications of this were obvious.

Crosswhite flashed Gil a devil-may-care grin. “Me being the most disavowable of us all.”

“You’ll take Trigg and Speed with you,” Gil said. “They’re the best boatmen on the squad. Do you swim, or don’t they teach that in snake eater school?” “Snake eater” was a term used for Green Berets.

Crosswhite gave him the finger and called to Alpha, “How fast can you get that Zodiac inflated and into the water?”

“Fifteen minutes.”

“Get Trigg and Speed ready to go!”

“Aye, aye!”

Crosswhite turned back toward Gil and Pope. “How’s that for delegation of authority?”

“No weapons,” Gil said. “You’ll work your way inland and recon the al-Rashid place. If it looks like you can snatch one of the bastards, drag his ass back. If not, no harm, no foul. Don’t take any risks. If you come back empty-handed, no big deal. We’ll just pretend like the mission never took place and wait to see what the president can work out with the PM.” He turned to Pope. “How much longer until that F-15 gets here?”

“Pretty soon now,” Pope said. “By the time it arrives, we’ll either have one of the al-Rashids or we won’t. If we don’t, that laptop’s liable to be our last and only possible lead. I believe we’re fast running out of time, gentlemen.”