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Operations Center 2, CIA Headquarters
Langley, Virginia

 

Leroux listened as the audio of the emergency call played. A map of Cuba was shown on the left of the large screens, and as the call was traced, it kept zooming in closer and closer until it finally settled on a location between San Julián Air Base and the town of Sandino. “Do we have coverage?”

“Yes, sir,” said Tong as satellite footage appeared on the massive displays. Her expert fingers flew over the keyboard and she zoomed in on the area in question, and everyone in the room cursed at the sight. Two helicopters had landed, one in front and one behind an ambulance, its faded Red Cross emblazoned across the top a distant memory. Troops surrounded the area as a gurney was lifted out of the back, another person lying prone on the ground.

“That must be whoever made the call,” said Child.

Tong agreed. “Voice recognition says it’s Captain Galitz.”

“See if we can get a shot of their faces so we can confirm it,” said Leroux.

Tong zoomed in, selecting several frame grabs, the computer mapping the recognition points then confirming their identities.

Child stared at the image of Meinke. “He doesn’t look good.”

Leroux frowned. “No, he doesn’t. Get this location to Delta and keep tracking them as long as we can. If we have any shot at rescuing them, it’s going to be while they’re at this base. If they move them to Havana, things get far more difficult.”