The Ides of Matt 2016 by M. L. Buchman

Author:M. L. Buchman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Buchman Bookworks, Inc.
Published: 2017-03-07T16:00:00+00:00

15

By the time everything was in place, night had fallen. The temperature was down into the breathable eighties and Chris was sweating more than he did standing out in the midday sun. Dry lightning crackled over the city as it so often did—bright flashes, sharp cracks, and no promise of rain.

He sat at the wheel of the Corolla four blocks and one turn from the terrorists’ compound and wished there was a different solution.

But then, as he waited, he could feel the operation-mode take over. There was no past or future within the heart of an operation—only the moment.

For the third time in the last hour his radio crackled to life. “White SUV inbound.”

The last two had driven by and continued on into the heart of the city. The compound lay at the end of Lashkargah 2 Road at the north edge of the city.

Like most Afghan cities, Lashkar Gah didn’t peter out. There were houses crowded together, only distinguishable by their differing styles of protective walls and the color of the door, and then the city ended. The compound was an anomaly, almost as assuredly as bin Laden’s massive compound had been. They’d had twenty SEALs, a half dozen helos, and no friendlies inside. He had half a dozen Delta Force operators and—

“Chain of SUVs. Counting five,” the drone’s pilot reported. With only the six of them, Chris had needed every asset on the ground. He hated depending on some fool with his butt parked in a Nevada bunker, but didn’t have a choice.

“Arriving at compound. Unloading. Count twenty-two additional on the ground.”

He could practically hear Conway swearing somewhere in the distance. Six Delta and now over forty armed bad guys.

“Syed Harim Akhram confirmed. I repeat. Syed Harim Akhram confirmed.”

Past thinking, Chris dropped into gear and put his foot down on the gas.

He heard Conway’s radio call of “Friendlies in the compound” that would delay Washington long enough for it to be true. Hopefully. If not, he and the Hellfire missiles should arrive at about the same time.

Four blocks. The engine groaned and the suspension wallowed, but the tough little car began accelerating.

First gear, then he finally nursed the overloaded Corolla into second.

Turning the corner, he had three straight blocks with the compound’s gate in full view. Perhaps he’d have another block before the guards heard the straining engine.

Maxwell had cut the power to the local neighborhood at sunset, carefully leaving the compound lit. That way there would be no lights shining on him, but no suspicions raised prematurely.

If he was lucky, maybe they wouldn’t see him for two of the three remaining blocks.

He wasn’t paying enough attention and hit a pothole. For a second he was afraid he’d broken the frame and their plans would die right here. But it held and the car continued accelerating despite the extra thousand pounds of cargo.

He cursed that cruise controls wouldn’t engage until a car was going thirty miles an hour. He was less than half a block from the gates when he hit the thirty-minimum speed.

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