CHAPTER 33

south of the relax hilton palace hotel

mingora, pakistan

0440 local time

Chunk moved swiftly, leaning forward on his rifle in a combat crouch, his boots silent as he quickstepped across the short wet grass in the vacant lot beside the hotel. Behind him, his teammates were in tight formation, staying in the shadows at the edge of the open field, scanning their sectors for threats. He resisted the urge to look right, where he had total confidence that Spence was advancing his three-man fire team on a divergent line. Instead of hitting the Taliban head-on from the front of the hotel, they’d looped around the back of the property and split into two elements to attack in a pincer movement from the east and west. By approaching from the rear, they’d also avoided the DShK heavy machine gun, which would have to reposition to engage them.

Fifty yards away Saw was getting into position as overwatch—set for head tapping anyone who tried to flank them or pursue during exfil.

Hang in there, guys. We’re on our way . . .

He came to the end of the open field and took position at the corner of a low cement wall that wrapped the perimeter of the hotel property. Opposite the wall, a paved lane looped around the back. He raised a closed fist and scanned the emergency door where Home Plate would exit. The distance between the door and the wall he estimated at fifteen to twenty yards—an uncomfortable gap to have to cross when bullets were flying. Someone had cracked the door open, and he saw no movement through the gap and no shadows disrupting the sliver of light from inside. He shifted his scan to the west corner of the hotel, where an old beat-up black sedan was parked at an angle, blocking access to the street behind the hotel. In doing so, the Taliban had inadvertently provided them cover and slowed their own ability to pursue with the technical.

Nice.

He positioned his green targeting dot—invisible to every terrorist not equipped with night-vision goggles—on the chest of a fighter posted at the rear fender of the car. The terrorist’s complete attention was on the action in the front parking lot, where Chunk could hear the DShK strafing the hotel.

“Jackal, Home Plate—we need to go now. You ready?”

He took a slow breath and let the green dot resettle on the torso of the bearded fighter. As soon as he dropped this guy, Taliban would come swarming around the corner. He was just about to check on Spence when the report came.

“Two is set,” Spence said in his ear, on time and on target.

“Jackal is set,” he said, squeezing the trigger. “Go now!”