“REACH ZERO THREE HEAVY”
The C-5B Galaxy climbed away from Dover Air Force Base, Delaware, propelled by forty-one thousand pounds of thrust. At the controls was the newest aircraft commander in the wing, flying her first trip in the left seat. Captain Debra McClintock turned the steering bug on the autopilot console to refine the outbound heading. “Next stop, Azores,” she told her copilot. The blond first lieutenant, a former cheerleader called Barbie, gave a thumbs-up. She received no end of kidding about her fiancé, a captain named Ken.
In the passenger deck farther aft, the SSI team settled down to make use of the ensuing several hours. Though the compartment held seventy-three seats, the operators kept to themselves, carried on the passenger list as retirees flying space available to Europe. The cargo manifest made no mention of their Zodiacs nor the shipping crates containing interesting items common to the spec-ops trade. They wore standard-issue nomex flight suits to blend in as much as possible.
Phil Green leaned back, hands behind his head. “I gotta hand it to the admiral and his guys. I mean, coordinating two teams five thousand miles or more from D.C. takes some doing. Let alone getting us on this plane.”
Don Pace looked around. “Yeah. How’d they arrange this, anyway?”
Pope knew the background. “There’s two hooks they can hang this on: joint airborne and transportability training, or a special assignment airlift mission. I don’t know exactly how the blue suits will log this, but I’d guess SAAM since we’re not actually military. But the fact that they’re delivering spare parts and some people to Spain and Italy provides decent cover.”
“What’s it matter?” asked Pace. “I mean, we’re all working for Uncle Sugar, aren’t we?”
The former SEAL looked around, satisfying himself that the adjoining seats were empty. “Right now it doesn’t matter at all. But if this thing tanks, and Congress starts investigating, then it could matter a lot.”
“Politics,” Green said.
“You got it.” He shrugged. “That’s how it is with government.”
“I’m an anarchist,” the erstwhile cop declared. “When my great-great-grandfather got off the boat from England, he asked, ‘Is there a government in this country?’ When they told him there was, he said, ‘I’m against it!’”
Pope felt himself warming to Green. The onetime motorcycle patrolman came across as cynically flippant, but when he rucked up, he put on his game face and remained focused until the gear was stowed. Pace, on the other hand, was perennially laid-back. He appeared unflappable, possessing a street cop’s visceral disdain of front-office types. Pope knew that Green had shot for blood, and the fact that both had been SWAT instructors lent credibility in the SEAL’s opinion.
“Now, everybody gather ’round.” Pope waited for the other team members to close in for the impromptu briefing.
“A lot can go wrong just getting the full team together,” he began. “The admiral has to coordinate not just our schedule with the ship in Rota, but getting approval for Keegan to fly Malten’s team there in time to meet us. Then we have to move our gear as well as his to the ship, get everything and everybody aboard, and be ready to deploy.”
“Isn’t Cohen handling some of that?” Green asked.
“I suppose he is, at least the Israeli end. But I don’t want to dwell on that: there’s not much we can do about it, and we have to proceed based on a unified operation plan.”
“I understand there was some sort of argument about who’s calling the shots. With Cohen, I mean.”
Pope cocked his head. “Where’d you hear that?”
“I heard Leopole and Carmichael in the coffee room.”
“Well, you know almost as much as I do. Frank told me the same thing, but he said there’s been a phone call and it’s thrashed out. Cohen has authority feet dry; Jeff takes the conn when they’re feet wet.”
“How does that work with getting their ship?”
“I don’t know, other than they already have a fast one lined up. But Jeff’s a good head. He doesn’t let his ego get in the way.”
Green’s blue eyes sparkled in the cabin lighting. “Gosh, how’d he ever get to be a SEAL?”