Lethal Horizon: A David Rivers Thriller (Shadow Strike Book 7) by Jason Kasper

Author:Jason Kasper [Kasper, Jason]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Severn River Publishing
Published: 2024-03-26T00:00:00+00:00

29

Reilly sat atop his ruck beside Worthy and Munoz, both men cradling their weapons as the sun rose over the khat farm.

Ian knelt in the middle, palming a radio set to speaker mode and continually checking the display, probably making sure he had a clear satellite signal. Which he should, Reilly thought, considering that the antenna assembly hadn’t moved from its position near his feet, nor had its view of the sky been obstructed in any way for the past half hour they’d been sitting there.

And yet, no transmission came from David or Cancer, who may or may not have made it through the hills in time to establish overwatch for the supposed arrival of Erik Weisz.

And as they awaited a transmission, the silence hung heavy between the men.

The air of suspense contradicted the otherwise tranquil nature of their surroundings, morning sunlight glistening across fields of khat, the first shift of boys and young men already beginning the day’s harvest.

Worthy said without prompting, “They made it. No way Cancer would’ve let them fall behind.”

“Yeah,” Munoz agreed, checking his watch. “Probably not with much time to spare, so we’ve got to give them a chance to set up comms.”

Neither man acknowledged the possibility that they had been killed, and Reilly thought that omission was just as well. They’d made all possible preparations for the next leg of their journey, if there was to be one at all. The only thing they could do was monitor the net in the hopes that a transmission would arrive.

Reilly spat into the dirt and noted, “Breakfast was good.”

“No,” Ian shot back, “it wasn’t. And if you’re shitting yourself in the truck, it’s going to be a really long ride to Zughaynah and we’re going to need a new medic. Because I’ll never work with you again.”

The statement took Reilly aback. He was considering how to respond when, as if in approval of Ian’s reprimand, David’s tinny voice emitted from the radio speaker.

“Angel, this is Suicide Actual.”

Reilly felt a knot form in his stomach—was it nerves, he wondered, or breakfast?

Because while Yemen was starving, the khat business was booming and the men on the farm suffered no shortage of food.

His team had enjoyed a meal consisting of all-they-could-eat gruel, a salty wheat dough floating in greasy chicken broth. The dish had been served with a side of, well, slightly different gruel, a buttery bread mash with mushy banana and dates. His teammates had viewed the offerings as a recipe for projectile diarrhea, but Reilly feasted as if it were his last meal on Earth; which, depending on the contents of David’s transmission, it may well be.

Ian transmitted back, “This is Angel, standing by to receive.”

“Copy, Angel,” David replied, “break. Raptor Nine One, Suicide Actual.”

Chen responded at once.

“This is Raptor Nine One, Mayfly speaking. I read you loud and clear.”

Now that all three parties were speaking on the same encrypted satellite frequency, David launched into his update.

“Observation report follows: at zero-five-four-zero local, one-by Mi-17 helicopter approached target grid from eastern heading, break.

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