The Rowan by Davis Bunn

Author:Davis Bunn [Bunn, Davis]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Severn House
Published: 2023-04-03T00:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-SIX

Agnes Pendalon and her aide, Grey Mathers, traveled north in two of the navy’s largest helicopters. The Sikorsky Super Stallion had a range of over eight hundred miles, thus emitting the need to stop and refuel. Which was good, since everything about this trip was off the books.

If their unofficial status bothered the SEAL team, Agnes could not tell. They were silent and still as human rocks, encased in black battle gear, carrying an assortment of weapons up to and including a pair of shoulder-fired missile launchers.

Let the evil clown out of the box, there was no telling what surprises lay in store.

Agnes had worked with any number of such teams. Being this close to the action brought out a myriad of emotions, mostly good. Oftentimes, when she rose from her lonely bed and used dawn runs to chase away the ghosts of her solitary life, she missed the smell of cordite. The anticipation of conflict. The elements of days spent on the front line.

The officer in charge, a lieutenant commander, was named Sykes. They rode side by side, the battle-hardened commander and the civilian in charge. Her only change in gear was to don a pair of combat boots. Otherwise, she still wore what she had put on that morning, a charcoal-gray suit and starched black cotton blouse. Mathers, on the other hand, had gone for the total look, right down to the greasepaint now streaking his face. In the chopper’s gloomy illumination he looked beyond thrilled. When he caught her eye, Grey said, ‘Finally. At long last.’

The OIC’s dark face split with an easy grin. ‘Been waiting a long time for this?’

‘Years,’ Grey replied. ‘Decades, seems like.’

‘So what exactly should we expect to find on the other end?’

‘No idea,’ Grey replied. ‘None whatsoever.’

‘Works for me.’

‘Enough with the chatter,’ Agnes said.

Grey smiled and settled back.

Three minutes later the light above the cockpit doorway flashed red. The OIC shouted, ‘Gear up! Thirty seconds.’

The chopper’s rear and side portals slid open as they settled into a broad meadow. They landed and filed out on the run. Sykes checked his wrist-compass and said, ‘Target is fifteen hundred meters straight west.’

‘Let’s go.’

Sykes positioned two teams ahead, one behind. Twenty-six in all, including Agnes and Grey. They settled into the loping run that SEALs could maintain for a day and most of the night, then take up position and fire with steady hands.

The forest was split by numerous hiking trails, which made the going much easier. Which was good, because the terrain was utterly dark. No moon, starlight merely a distraction that came and went through the clouds overhead. Agnes had never managed to run while wearing night-vision goggles. They erased her depth perception and threw her dangerously off pace. Five hundred meters from their target, the OIC sent two spotters out, flanking their position. A hundred meters further and he raised a fist, halting their forward movement. Up ahead, the sky glowed so strongly the tallest trees became silhouettes cut from a false dawn.

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