in the safari heyday of Jonathan’s beloved Africa. Alongside them was a selection of modern assault rifles that would rival anything at Fort Bragg [Redacted]. The guns were arranged from left to right in chronological order, with everything from highly engraved Purdey percussion-era fowling pieces to the coveted Heckler & Koch 416D. As the holder of a Type 7 FFL as well as a Special Occupational Tax from the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives, Hastings was able to buy dealer samples of the latest military-grade firearms, including machine guns and suppressors.
The team wasn’t in the room to admire the collection. They were there because it was the closest thing to a secure conference room. It was highly unlikely that anyone was attempting to listen in on their planning session, but in this business, it was best not to take chances. A large LCD screen had been positioned on a table at the front of the room and folding chairs were arranged facing it. Caroline had prepared a feast at the rear of the room and a silver urn of coffee would provide everyone with a steady stream of caffeine as they completed the mission planning process.
Thorn had scarcely left Jonathan’s side since this ordeal had begun and he soon joined the growing group of participants. He introduced himself and his two pilots, Liz Riley and Navy veteran Chip King, before Reece took over.
“I want to start by thanking all of you for being here. You didn’t have to be. The government has decided to opt for a diplomatic solution to bringing Raife and Hanna home. From what I’ve learned about our enemy in the past few days, my assessment is that we are working with days, not weeks, to resolve this. My estimate is that as soon as the politicians start talking about this, Raife and Hanna will be killed and dumped in the sea. I want everyone to consider what’s at stake. This is an invasion of a sovereign foreign country. All of us could be executed or rot in a Russian or U.S. jail for this.”
“You have to survive the jump first, Reece,” Farkus interjected.
“Good point,” Reece conceded.
“And that’s if you can get out the door before we’re shot down by a Russian MiG,” Chavez reminded everyone.
“There is that.” Reece smiled, knowing the dark humor was part of the deal. “If you have any doubt, now is the time to say something. Trust me when I tell you that all of us will understand.”
Reece paused and looked each individual in the eye for signs of hesitation. As expected, they were all in.
“All right then.”
Reece clicked a remote and began the intelligence briefing he’d borrowed from Andy Danreb at the CIA.
“The Agency was kind enough to put this target package together for us,” Reece continued, working through the same briefing he’d received at [Redacted] before moving into the tactical portion of the plan.
“The initial idea was to stage out of the Aleutians and HAHO in from low-signature aircraft onto the remote side of the island. The rescue force would have then patrolled to the objective, located Hanna and Raife, then exfiled via the special helicopters the government insists don’t exist. The rotary-wing assets would stage off an amphibious ship in international waters. Since we don’t have those resources, the plan is to use Thorn’s G550 to perform a HAHO jump from international airspace, using the winds to get us into Russian territory and onto Medny Island. From there we will patrol to the target, though with far fewer ground assets.”
“Without the stealth helos, how do we get the package home?” Farkus asked.
“Good question. Thorn will land his Albatross on the east side of the island, here,” Reece said, pointing to a cove on the map. “We make our way to him and skim the wave tops until we are back in international airspace. Then it’s on to Alaska.”
“Why not use the Grumman for the insertion? A lot less risk than a jump,” Devan asked, thinking of jumping Edo in arctic conditions.
“It’s likely the island’s radar would pick us up coming in. With the reduced signature of coming in via HAHO, we can hit the ground and maintain the element of surprise. For extract we don’t have much choice. If the Albatross pings on their radar, we will be turning it around and getting back into international airspace before the Russians can positively ID us. If we inserted on it, we’d be sitting ducks.”
“Check.”
“What about coming in by