The Unit
Fort Bragg, North Carolina
“H
ave a moment, Colonel?”
Colonel Thomas Clancy looked up from his computer and waved Command Sergeant Major Dawson in. “I thought you were at the barbecue?”
“I was, but something’s come up.”
Clancy motioned to the chair in front of his desk and tapped his radio. “I assume you’re talking about our professor friends who are in it up to their necks again, and that you and your men want to go gallivanting off to save the day?”
Dawson grinned. “You know me so well, sir. Kane’s already on his way—”
Clancy’s eyebrows shot up. “He is? Sanctioned?”
“Nope.”
“Figures. The day he left the Unit was a good day for my hairline.”
“I’d like to take credit for a couple of inches, sir.”
“Careful. I just might reassign you.” Clancy leaned back in his chair. “Okay, give me the skinny.”
“I want to take Niner, Atlas, and Spock with me to Spain. We’ll rendezvous with Kane. He’ll equip us. We’ll all use vacation time, pay for our own tickets. Nothing to tie back to the Unit or the government.”
“And your mission?”
“Our primary mission is to find the professors and safely bring them in to the authorities before they get themselves killed.”
“Sounds reasonable. And the second?”
“Find out who’s responsible, and either take them down, or let the authorities know where to find them.”
“And that’s where things get sketchy. I can’t have you guys off in Europe shooting people.”
Dawson put on his best whiny voice. “Aww, but they’d be bad guys.” It didn’t work.
Clancy rolled his eyes. “They always are. But if you encounter armed police, what are you going to do?”
“Surrender, of course.”
“Exactly. Then you get identified and I lose what’s left of my hair trying to deal with it. No. Find the professors, hand them over safely. If you succeed, contact me and we’ll go from there. Understood?”
“Yes, sir!”
