He knows what we're capable of. Sam's voice moved in her mind with complete confidence. She had forgotten she'd reached out to him and was still in his mind. They were too connected now, making it impossible to know where one started and the other left off.
That was true, now that she really studied the general's face. He didn't like having to be the delivery man, but he'd flown all the way out to their compound to ensure no one else would overhear the conversation and he had made it more than clear what his team would be facing. Still, aside from not wanting his foster son to be among those going, he had never once acted as if they wouldn't come home alive. If anything, she could see the smoldering anger underneath. He meant what he said when he ordered them to carry out the orders to the letter. He planned on turning the tables on Whitney. His GhostWalkers were going to destroy the rebel army, take out the two men wreaking havoc and committing genocide in the region, get the diamond Whitney wanted, and all come home safe. He believed his men not only could but would do just that.
Breathe, Azami. You're holding your breath. This is what we do.
I know. I've seen you in action, but I won't be there with you this time. She was a little shocked at just how upsetting that was. She believed in Sam, but he would be going into a firestorm. If Whitney actually had enough clout to shut down their primary and secondary extractions, they would really be in trouble. The idea was to get in and get out without anyone ever knowing they were there.
"Sir," Ryland said, clearing his throat. "It would be best if you didn't act in any way as if you suspect someone is relaying information to anyone on your staff."
The general drew himself up, an impressive man who had earned the right to be called a four-star general. He squared his shoulders and looked down his nose at Ryland. "I assure you, Captain, I'm quite capable of taking care of myself. You just bring my team home safely. Every damn soldier comes home alive, you understand me?"
"Yes, sir."
"Sam, with me." The general indicated with a jerk of his chin.
Sam followed his foster father from the war room, as all the men rose and saluted. The general walked with his measured steps, his bearing absolutely erect, his posture perfect. He waited until they were a good distance away from the others before he turned to face his foster son. Sam could see the lines of age settling into his face, the gray of his hair, the signs that the man, in spite of his excellent physical condition and diet, was growing old and maybe a little tired of the weight of responsibility he'd assumed for so many years.
He put his hand on Sam's shoulder, indicating they were speaking as father and son. "How are you really, Sam? I don't like that you've been targeted once and now you're being sent into the Congo to get ambushed. Worse, I'm being used to send my own boy into a firefight. I want a medical report from your doctor giving you full clearance or I can't sign off on this, regardless of how proud I am that you're choosing to go."
"I'm really fine, sir. I know I'll get full medical clearance. I hope you understand why I have to do this. I could never look any of the others in the eye if I didn't. If someone is out to get me, I'd rather have my chance at them."
"They're using a ragtag army of ruthless, brutal rebels who care nothing for anyone. Not women, children, their country, or anything else. They love to torture and kill. And if they get their hands on you . . ." The general trailed off to shake his head. "You saw what they did to Ken Norton. That wouldn't be anything if they got their hands on you."
"Then I'll be certain not to let that happen," Sam assured.
General Ranier sighed and rubbed his jaw. "Sam, I don't play favorites, I never have, not even with you. This is different. Whitney's behind these orders and he's targeted you specifically for whatever purpose."
Ranier had never really discussed Peter Whitney with him before, and Sam was astounded. The general really had to be worried to talk so openly when he was used to playing things close to his chest. He never talked at home about his work, not even with his wife.
"I'm aware of that, sir. He won't succeed."
"This girl you think you've fallen in love with . . ."
"I have fallen in love with her." Sam looked him directly in the eye. "I'm no kid, long past the age of looking for a woman because I'm joining the service and want someone waiting for me. You know I don't work that way. She's the one. We just fit. We make sense. And she makes me happy, just having her around. This is it for me."
"And you're certain there is no tie between her and Whitney? Do you really think it's a coincidence that she shows up and you get attacked by Iranian soldiers, mercenaries, and known members of the Mexican cartel?"
"She saved my life and helped me kill most of them."
The general stood there for several moments in silence. "Do you have any idea who she is? Azami Yoshiie is part owner of one of the biggest companies in the world. Countries, governments would kill for their satellites. She's amassed a fortune, and it's said that every person working for her is loyal and can't be bribed. Believe me, there isn't a government that hasn't tried to get their hands on that software through every means possible."
"Are you trying to warn me that if I marry her, my government may come to me and ask me to steal documents for them? I will have nothing to do with her company. I'm a soldier, sir, like you, and I'll always be a soldier, certainly not a corporate spy."
"You have the brains to work with her," General Ranier pointed out. "You do. You always have. You could do anything at all, Sam."
Sam realized that the general was telling him it was okay with him if he left the military and went into the private sector. For the first time, he was aware that the general, as gruff and incapable of showing affection as he was, really cared for him. He worried like any other father might.
"Thank you, sir. I appreciate you thinking that I could. I'm happy doing what I do. I'm good at it. I fit in here with this team. And I fit with Azami. We'll find a way to make it work."
"Some women are content with part of a man. They understand that we're just as married to our unit and our buddies as we are to them. They know they won't know where we are or what we're doing half the time, only that it's dangerous work. Other women have to be a full partner. You have to know which kind you're thinking of marrying, Sam. If it's the wrong kind, you'll never make it."
"She's a GhostWalker, sir," Sam said. "She's a soldier, just like I am. She understands what and who I am, and I understand her."
"She's a citizen of Japan, and that's where her loyalties lie," General Ranier pointed out.
Sam opened his mouth to protest and then closed it. He knew what his foster father was implying--that Azami couldn't be trusted with the knowledge of such a highly controversial program as the GhostWalkers. "Sir, you aren't hearing what I'm saying. She isn't just a woman trained for combat. She's literally a GhostWalker. She's one of Whitney's experiments."
General Ranier studied Sam's face as if he might be trying to tell a bad joke. "That's impossible. That girl's been investigated by everyone who could possibly investigate her. She has a family in Japan. A father, two brothers . . ."
"She was adopted just as her two brothers were."
"I know that," Ranier snapped impatiently. "But she was a child when she was adopted."
"Briony, Jack Norton's wife, was adopted. So was Tansy, Kadan's wife. That's not unusual for Whitney, is it? We don't know how many others are out there."
"Is she an anchor?"
"She has to be. She has no trouble at all with the overload of psychic energy. She lived in the middle of a martial arts school and a sword-making shop. She meets with people all over the world for Samurai Telecommunications without a problem."
"This is a problem, Sam," General Ranier said. "If she's an experiment of Whitney's, she could be a plant."
Sam shook his head. "No, I'd know. She wouldn't be able to hide it from me. When I say we fit together, I mean our minds, not just our bodies. She's in me and I'm just as deep inside of her. For a short perio
d of time we might be able to hide things from one another, but not for long. It just couldn't happen."
"You're so sure of her, then?"
"Yes, sir. Absolutely sure of her. I know she's right for me."
"What of this pairing Whitney seems to do with the GhostWalkers? Is there a possibility that he's managed to do that to you?"
"Maybe it's possible he paired her with me--he certainly could have when he enhanced me--but she was already gone when he got his hands on me. He couldn't possibly have paired me to her. What she feels is genuine and I don't think he can manipulate emotion. Physical attraction, yes, but not emotion. And I definitely feel emotion for her."
The general nodded. "Then bring her home to your mother. And do it when I can get home." The last was said quite gruffly, as if it was stiff and awkward to admit that he cared enough to meet his future daughter-in-law as well.
"I'll do that, sir," Sam assured.
General Ranier gripped Sam's shoulder hard and then turned and walked out, hurrying back to his helicopter.
Azami waited in the hall for Sam. He was never one to miss an opportunity when they were alone. He caught the nape of her neck in a firm grip and leaned in to kiss her. She melted into him without a hesitation. The taste of her was even better than he remembered.
"A man could get lost in you far too fast, woman," he accused.
She smiled at him, that soft, mysterious smile. "Tell Ryland I can help."
"He'll never take you with us."
"I don't want to go with you." She frowned. "Okay, that's not exactly the truth, I'd like to be at your side, but I think I can be of more help here. Just tell him we can snag a satellite or two and give him unbelievable data while you're all in the field. We'll be able to tell him how many players, where they are, and if you're running into a trap. We have audio capability . . ."
"They'll be scanning for radio traffic," Sam said.
"Of course, but all they're going to hear are the sound of insects and maybe the flutter of wings. If there's rain, they'll hear that."
"How is that possible?"
Her smile widened and her lashes fluttered just that little bit, enough to tell him she had fascinating secrets he would spend a lifetime learning. "Eiji handles the lens. Daiki loves code. I prefer everything auditory."
He should have known. She had an enormous IQ, just as her brothers did. She'd attended the best schools and graduated with honors. Of course she was more than the bodyguard.
"You can communicate in fifteen second bursts. Anyone listening in will hear the exact same sounds they normally hear in their surroundings. Basically the audio is being recorded and played back for anyone listening in during those fifteen seconds of communication. I had to find a way to keep human voices off the loop, and you can't go beyond those fifteen seconds or the natural sounds begin to deteriorate." She shrugged. "I'm still working with it, but I'll perfect it eventually. For now, it will give us the ability to assist you from here."
"Rye will need a demo. He's not going to take a chance on anything," Sam said.
"We came here to give you a demo, so all to the good. I'll need Daiki and Eiji. I also need to set it up as quickly as possible. I know they've probably given you a couple of extraction points, but just in case, I'd like to have another backup plan. I'll need to leave for a short period of time to make certain everything is in place."
Sam frowned. She was telling him the truth--yet not the whole truth. "I need you here to help protect Lily and Daniel. Once our team leaves, there will only be a couple of men here in the compound. Team Two is close and they'll come if there's trouble, but I'll feel better knowing you and your brothers are here." He knew he was being presumptuous to expect the Yoshiies to stay in the compound with most of the team gone.
"My brothers will be here and I'll return as quickly as possible."
Both turned as the rush of energy heralded a GhostWalker coming down the hallway. "Ryland needs you in the war room now," Tucker said.
Sam stepped back from Azami, allowing his fingers to brush across her shoulder as he turned away from her. I love you, woman. The words felt right to say, although not nearly enough to describe the emotion he felt. We need to get a license immediately, because I'd like to marry you as soon as I get back.
He heard her laughter in his mind, filling him with warmth as he walked away from her. That was what he found the most amazing--how she made him feel so complete. He wasn't looking at her, but she was there with him, sharing an intimate moment no one else even saw.
Do you think if we don't marry immediately I'm going to run?
If you had any sense, you would, and unfortunately for me, I'm fairly certain you'll come to your senses sooner or later and run like a rabbit.
You wish, but you're stuck with me now.
He'd like to lock her up somewhere, just to be certain she'd stay where he would know what she was up to. Azami would always go her own way, make her own decisions; he understood that and admired her for it. He would never respect a woman who didn't know what she wanted and went for it. That didn't mean he wasn't going to worry about her.
Ryland had maps spread out on the table and up on the screens on the walls. He glanced up as Sam came in. "The general okay with you going?"
"I didn't give him much choice. What have we got?" Sam said.
"We'll deploy in two teams," Ryland replied. "Team One will be tasked as 'pathfinder' team. Nico, Kadan, Sam, and Jonas, that's you."
The four men nodded.
"You'll make a HALO insertion from a CIA Gulfstream C-11. The crew as usual will be squawking a Yemen business jet transponder code to cover us."
A HALO was a high altitude, low opening jump.
"Normal businessmen you are," Gator said with a little snicker. He sobered up when Ryland shot him a glance.
"They'll drop you at twenty-five thousand AGL, so you'll need your oxygen kit."
Sam nodded his head. The air to ground distance was a long one. They'd better have oxygen.
"For all of you, no dog tags, no ID card, and use sterile British fatigues. TOT will be oh-three-hundred zulu."
The time over the target was called out in universal time.
"Snipers will take Dragunov SVD sniper rigs, and SR-2 submachine guns. Sam, you and Jonas take an AKM assault rifle." He looked around the room. "Each of you will have a Pya Yariggi nine-millimeter pistol. If you're not familiar with any of these, get that way and fast. Believe me, gentlemen, you'll need them."
"No problem," Kadan answered for the others.
"You will get eyes on the objective location to confirm intel reports if at all possible. You'll be responsible for the recon of and establishing of a DZ for the second team."
The drop zone was all-important going in this time, as the area was entirely overrun with rebels and most of the roads were blown to hell.
"You will be setting up a primary and secondary RP to link up with us after we insert. You will also need to set up a primary and secondary PZ, for the extractions of both teams."
It was always necessary to establish two rally points as well as two pickup zones in case anything went wrong. Sam was well aware they expected things to go wrong this time.
"You will recon the rendezvous point, set up shop, and cover Sam and me when we go meet this joker. You have thirty-six hours to complete these objectives." Ryland pinned all four men with his steely eyes. "Any questions?"
"No, sir," Kadan answered.
Ryland tapped his finger on the table as if he itched to say more, but he shook his head and turned his attention back to his plan. "Team Two will stage at an air base in Turkey. We will insert via the same aircraft."
Gator nudged Tucker. "More businessmen. I'm wearin' my suit. The ladies love that."
Ryland suppressed a grin. "Yeah, they will, Gator; we'll let you drop first."
"Thanks, Captain, I'll let Flame know she needs to pick up a little more life insurance."
Ryland shook his head and returned to th
e instructions. "We'll insert by HAHO from twenty-seven thousand feet AGL," he said, referring to air to ground level.
HAHO was a high altitude, high opening jump. Never fun over a jungle in the dark in hostile territory. They would glide for thirty-five miles using compass and map to reference land features for directional reference.
"We'll be dropped thirty-eight miles east of the objective. We'll soar into the DZ Team One established, approximately two miles from the objective. Four of us will have AKMs and the fifth will have an RPK light machine gun. All of us will carry the Pya Yariggi pistol."
He looked around the room. "Each one of you will carry the following . . ." He waited until his men were ready for the list.
"Four claymore mines, four pounds of C-4, eight blasting caps, eight time-delay igniters, thirty feet of det cord explosive, ten minutes' worth of fuse time, six Mk II frag grenades, four M18 smoke grenades. One red, one green, and two white. I want each of you to also have two M-14 thermite incendiary grenades, three hundred and thirty-five rounds rifle, three magazines pistol, the snipers bring seventy rounds for the SVDs. Everyone," he continued, "two extra battery sets for each radio issued you, UV water purification device, and trauma kit."
Ryland waited again until his men were all finished listing the necessities. "Our objective is to secure and transport a political package. We will take out two rebel combatant leaders and destroy as much rebel equipment and munitions as we can. If we are compromised, we are on our own."
"Wow. How new is that?" Gator asked, looking around with a grin. "I don' think any of us has ever been in that situation."
Tucker nudged him hard enough to make him nearly topple over. "They've been trying to lose you for years, Cajun man."
"I grew up wrestlin' gators; a little romp in the jungle isn't goin' to get me lost," Gator assured. "Try as they might to get it done."
Ryland held up his hand to return attention on him. "Extraction is scheduled to be provided by the 160th SOAR, special operations aviation regiment. They will be flying an MH-53D Pave Low with two AH-6 'Little Bird' gunships for cover. If both PZs are compromised, then we secure our own transport and try to get to a friendly country." He looked around at the men he'd gone into combat with hundreds of times.