“Process of elimination. Look at the people we have in The Campus who could possibly be drafted into shooting it out against us. Adara will play the role of the kidnap victim, she let that slip yesterday. Clark, obviously, will lead the OPFOR. He’ll be down there with a gun. That leaves our four security guys: Gomez, Fleming, Gibson, and Henson.” The Campus contracted well-vetted former military and intelligence assets to serve as facility security personnel. They were all ex — Green Berets or ex-SEALs. Additionally, Gibson and Henson had served with the CIA’s Global Response Staff, a tier-one security service that protected Agency installations around the world. All four men were in their fifties but as fit as Olympic athletes and tough as nails, and they had been friends of Chavez’s and Clark’s going back many years.
In addition to site security, the four also helped out with training from time to time, as they were all experts with firearms, edged weapons, and even unarmed combat.
Jack said, “You could be right, but Clark has thrown curveballs at us in the past. A couple guys from the Campus analytics shop who used to be shooters might be down there helping out. Mike and Rudy, for example? They were both Army infantry.”
Caruso smiled. “They were Rangers, I’ll grant you that. But Rudy called me first thing this morning from the office. He’s thinking about buying my truck, and he asked me to leave the keys under the seat so he could go by my place and take it for a spin on his lunch break. He said Mike would come along with him.”
Jack tried to think of others involved in their organization who might have driven the two and a half hours from the office in Alexandria, Virginia, to play the role of bad guys this morning. “Donna Lee was FBI. She knows her way around a submachine gun.”
Dom said, “Adara told me Donna tweaked her knee at CrossFit on Wednesday. She’s on crutches for the next couple weeks.”
Jack smiled now. “You’ve really thought this through, haven’t you?”
“You and I run into enough assholes who want to shoot us out there in the real world. I’m not looking to take a Sim burst to the junk today. I’ve got plans this weekend. I’ll game the system if I have to.”
Jack laughed now, glad for the diversion that kept him from thinking about his parachute-packing skills and the jump to come. “What do you have planned for the weekend?”
Dom looked like he was considering whether or not to answer the question, but just then Ding pulled off his headset and Dominic leaned back away from Ryan.
“What are you two knuckleheads conspiring about over here?”
Both men smiled but made no reply.
Chavez raised an eyebrow. “Two minutes out, Jack. You’ll be dropped three hundred yards or so from the boat, at the stern, to avoid detection. Obviously it’s daytime, and any sentry in the real world looking aft would see you, but this is training. The OPFOR on deck knows to keep their eyes in the boat. You get a free pass to swim up, as long as you don’t make it too obvious.”
Dominic said, “Yeah, don’t dog-paddle up in a big yellow rubber ducky.”
Jack gave Chavez a thumbs-up.
“Once you’re out the hatch, Helen will take us up to six thousand and we’ll jump from there, sail right onto the deck. We’ll spot targets on the way down and try to take them out on landing. By the time we hit the deck and strip away our harnesses, I want you climbing up the sea stairs ready to stack up with us.”
“You got it,” Jack said. This was going to be an arduous swim. The waters of the bay looked choppy from the window behind him.
Just then, Chester “Country” Hicks climbed out of the copilot’s seat and moved back to the cabin door. He flipped the lever and slid the big hatch open, filling the already noisy cabin with the locomotive-like drone that came along with the air rushing by the aircraft moving at ninety knots.
Hicks held up a single finger, indicating one minute till jump, and Jack pulled himself to his feet, along with Chavez. Jack and Dom pounded fists again, and then Jack walked closer to the open hatch.
Chavez leaned close into Jack’s ear as he moved up the cabin with him. “Remember… Don’t forget.”
Now Jack cocked his head, leaned into Chavez’s ear. “Don’t forget what?”
“Don’t forget anything.” Chavez smiled, slapped the younger man on the back, and pointed toward the open door. “You’re up, Jack. Time to fly like a piano!”
Jack fought a bout of queasiness, waited for the signal from Country, and then leapt out.
Seven minutes later Jack bobbed in the water at the sea stairs at the stern of the
