One Killer Force by Fury Dalton

Author:Fury, Dalton [Fury, Dalton]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Thriller
ISBN: 9781466870901
Publisher: St. Martin's Press
Published: 2015-10-20T05:00:00+00:00

SIXTEEN

Colonel Webber’s office, Delta Compound

Moving to exit the selection wing of the building, Kolt passed by the large plexiglass display as he gained the hallway. The box contained thousands of rounds of spent brass, with the small display placard claiming the amount to be the number of bullets an operator candidate fires during his initial training. On both walls, extending the length of the hallway, dozens of framed eight-by-ten black-and-white photos of every OTC class since the Unit’s inception were hung in perfect alignment. Once past them, Kolt opened the heavy light blue doors and gained the Spine, spitting his tobacco into the plastic bottle as the doors shut behind him. He jumped into the nearest bathroom, swirled some water around in his mouth to make sure he got it all, and quickly washed his hands.

Entering the command group area, he made eye contact with Joyce sitting at her desk with the phone to her ear. Kolt mouthed a silent hello and gave a wave.

“Go on in, Major Raynor, Colonel Webber is waiting,” she said as she cupped the phone’s voice box with her right hand.

Kolt continued past her desk, but stopped at Webber’s office door. He opened it slowly, peeked around the doorjamb, more out of respect than in a sneaky manner, and saw Colonel Webber on the phone, seated, with only his tan T-shirt on.

Webber had a look of deep concentration on his face, but when he looked up to see Kolt, he waved him inside. Seeing Webber point to the two leather seats near the left side of the desk, he took a seat in the closest one, immediately knowing this was more than a simple social call.

“I got it, the CG wants it minimal force and low vis and yes, I understand his hesitation with Noble,” Webber said into the phone, “but you know I’m not sending Mike Squadron, they are on alert cycle. With Osage Squadron heading back to Iraq, sending a troop-plus from Noble is it.”

Hearing his squadron’s name pinged Kolt’s radar to max power, but he played it cool in the chair, careful not to appear overly excited. Over the years, he and his men back in Mike Squadron had stood up, then stood down, more times than any of them cared to remember. So much so that they had been desensitized to the rumor mill of deploying, learning not to get too fired up about anything until the deployment order had been cut by the National Command Authority.

But, Kolt was pretty sure Webber was talking to the JSOC J3, Colonel promotable Kevin Tanner, and that was usually a sign that something was brewing on short notice. Webber quickly looked up at Kolt, catching him eavesdropping. Too late to play it off, Kolt simply stared back at him, poker-faced. Kolt figured that if the commander didn’t want him to hear the conversation, he would have never waved him into his office.

“Major Raynor just walked in, give us a few minutes to talk and I’ll get back to you,” Webber said, leaning toward the phone as if he was in a hurry to hang up.

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