Transfer of Power

THE MC-13 °COMBAT Talon was three minutes away from the jump point when they received the go-ahead FROM JSOC.

The navigator informed Commander Harris of the countdown, and the four SEALS moved to the back ramp with their bulky chutes and packs. Under their left arms, their suppressed Heckler & Koch MP-10 submachine guns were safely secured.

The four men stood in single file at the top of the ramp.

Reavers, the jumpmaster, was first in line. He checked everyone’s chute one last time and then took up his place in the number one slot.

Harris walked up to Reavers’s side and looked out at the horizon. To the west the sun was now down, but the sky above it was still lit. To the east it looked as if the world were about to end. The sky was black from as far to the north and east as the eye could see. Looking down, Harris could see the Beltway running east to west, and to his right was the University of Maryland. Beyond the university, the city of Baltimore was getting pounded by the storm. The commander could tell from the trees below that it was gusting hard.

Mick Reavers yelled into his CO’s ear, “Great weather to jump in. Who’s the crazy bastard that came up with this plan?”

Harris smiled.

“We’ve been in worse situations, Mick. Just make sure you hike up your skirt before you jump. We wouldn’t want it to get caught on anything.”

Reavers gave his boss the bird. Harris smiled at the big slab of beef before him and slapped Reavers on the shoulder. Returning to his spot at the end of the stick, the commander checked the altimeter strapped to his left wrist and waited for the signal.

Through the eerie red light of the cabin, the green jump light began to flash. Almost instantly Reavers raised his right hand and gave the signal for the men to stand by. Seconds later, Reavers gave the go signal and leapt from the open ramp of the Combat Talon. Tony Clark came next, then Jordan Rostein, and lastly Dan Harris pivoted and leapt from the plane.

All four men turned one hundred eighty degrees in the air and assumed the free-fall position known as the frog-arms and legs extended and bent slightly upward. In the darkening sky, the luminescent tape on their helmets helped them keep track of each other and line up. Beneath them and to the south, the White House was easily identifiable.