Use of Force

CHAPTER 32

“How many and from what direction?” Harvath asked.

“There’s a three-vehicle convoy including one technical west of you out of Abu Kammash,” the drone team leader stated. “A five-vehicle convoy is to your east from the port at Zuwara with two technicals. Finally, there’s a seven-vehicle convoy approaching from your south. That one has four technicals, two of which are mounted with antiaircraft guns.”

Shit. “How far out are they?”

“The convoy from Abu Kammash is a little over ten klicks out. The others are closer to twenty.”

That was way too close as far as Harvath was concerned. They’d never be able to outrun them. Not with the piece-of-shit truck they were driving. And definitely not when it was loaded down with six shooters, two of whom were riding in the bed, all their gear, plus a hostage.

“I’ll let you guys call it, but my preference is that you take out the Abu Kammash convoy first,” said Harvath.

“Negative. We’re not authorized to target Libyan militias.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. What do you mean you’re not free to target Libyan militias?”

“Our agreement with the Tunisians is that airstrikes are only authorized when targeting Islamic militants.”

Fucking politics. “Let me talk to your senior.”

“I am the senior. In fact I specifically requested this op to make sure you guys got everything you needed.”

“I appreciate that, but what I need right now is some CAS,” Harvath replied, using the acronym for close air support.

“Don’t worry,” the drone team leader replied. “We’re going to help navigate you out of this.”

Harvath was worried. “What other armed assets do we have in the air that didn’t launch from Tunisia?” he asked.

“There’s another Reaper, west of Benghazi. But it launched from U.S. Naval Air Station Sigonella on Sicily.”

“So what? How quick can we get it on station here?”

“Per our agreement with the Italians, only non-Libyans can be targeted in drone strikes launched from Sigonella.”

The world had lost its mind. “The Tunisians and the Italians realize that the Libya Liberation Front is allied with Ansar al-Sharia, which in turn is linked to Al Qaeda, right?”

“Sorry, sir, I don’t make the rules.”

“Are there any U.S. Navy ships in the Mediterranean right now operating drones?”

“Yes, sir, but none that will be able to get an asset on station for you quickly enough.”

“Give me the name of the nearest vessel.”

The drone team leader confirmed his information and then replied, “It’s the Nimitz-class supercarrier, the USS George H. W. Bush.”

Now they were getting somewhere. “Stand by,” said Harvath as he pulled out his satellite phone and dialed the cell phone of the Director of Central Intelligence.

Back in the United States, it was just past eleven o’clock at night. Bob McGee answered on the third ring.

“Sorry to wake you,” said Harvath. “I need you to make a phone call for me, fast.”

He gave the DCI the details and secured his promise to cut out the U.S. Ambassador to Libya, as well as the Defense Attaché, even though that was protocol. They’d only get in the way.

Within sixty seconds of hanging up, McGee had the Secretary of Defense on the phone. The SecDef personally called the Commander of the Sixth Fleet, who conferenced in the Commander of Carrier Strike Group Two, which was responsible for the USS George H. W. Bush. Once they were all on the line, McGee explained the situation and what they needed.

Five minutes later, a phone rang at the Tunisian air base from which the Reaper tracking Harvath and his team was being piloted.

After authenticating the caller and listening to the Pentagon’s instructions, the drone team commander replied, “Roger that. Right away.”

Relaying the command to the drone pilot, he then turned to his Tunisian liaison and stated, “This drone is being removed from inventory and will not be returning to Tunisian soil. We’re handing over control to the USS George H. W. Bush.”

Within seconds, the drone banked and headed out to sea. As it did, Harvath’s satellite phone vibrated. It was McGee.

“As soon as Strike Group Two has control of the drone, video to the base in Tunisia will be cut. They know what’s going on, but it gives them cover. Once the drone gets beyond Libya’s territorial waters, they’re off the hook.”

“But that’s twelve nautical miles,” Harvath replied, as he stared out from the back of the technical, expecting to see militia members behind them at any moment. “We don’t have that long.”

“Strike Group Two isn’t going the full twelve. The second the handoff is complete, they’re sending it back to you. In the meantime, you’ve got to figure something out, because you are on your own.”

Harvath acknowledged the Director’s update, made one more request, and then disconnected the call.

They were approaching the north side of Zelten now. With every building they passed, he saw people in windows and on rooftops — most of them with cell phones. Not good.

There was no question in his mind that the team’s location and heading was being relayed back to the Libya Liberation Front.

Harvath wasn’t one for ducking a fight, but he was a big believer that discretion was always the better part of valor. Gage was already injured. He didn’t want to risk more injuries, or worse, if he didn’t have to.

If they could make it out of town and into the sparsely populated area between Zelten and the coast, they might be able to find a place to hole up and avoid the Libya Liberation Front all together.

But without the drone monitoring the militia’s progress, there was no telling how much time they had. If they were going to pull off and hide, they’d have to do it soon.

Getting on the radio, he relayed to the team what he wanted them to be on the lookout for.

Minutes later, he could see Zelten receding. So far, there were no vehicles approaching.

As the area’s small farms grew farther and farther apart, Haney’s voice came over the radio. Up ahead, he could see a small cluster of buildings surrounded by a low wall.

Harvath told him to head for it. He had a feeling those buildings might be their best, and only, opportunity for survival.