Instinct: A Chess Team Adventure - By Jeremy Robinson Page 0,20
questions?”
Rook raised his hand. “Just one.”
Sara cringed inwardly. She didn’t even know why the team charged with her protection had to know anything about Brugada. Keasling said something about knowing their enemy. She thought that was a ridiculous answer, but the solemn faces around the room told her that the urgency of the mission had been impressed upon them. With the lives of six billion now dependent on six, the explanation had provided motivation in spades. But did they really understand or would they write it off as the fantasy of a CDC kook? “Go ahead,” Sara replied.
“Why the hell are we still sitting here?” Rook said.
They understood perfectly. She raised her hand toward Keasling. “General?”
Keasling walked toward the front of the room. He took the laptop mouse and zoomed the satellite image out. As the image pulled back, border lines cut the land into three chunks. “Anh Dung is here, just inside the border of Vietnam. They will not take too kindly to our little raiding party, so we will touch down here . . .”
ANNAMITE MOUNTAIN RANGE CONVERGENCE ZONE
Keasling pointed on the other side of the border. “. . . in Laos, just north of Cambodia. The region is known as the Annamite Convergence Zone, where all three countries come together in a patch of mountainous land no one in their right mind would claim. It’s a thick jungle, hotter than Los Angeles in August and more humid than Satan’s sauna. The terrain is rugged, with mountain peaks and deep valleys. Right now the weather is calm, but the region is known for sudden monsoons. If it starts raining, take shelter and pray. On top of all of that, the region is home to the beloved Ho Chi Minh Trail and rife with old land mines. Scan any clearings or fields before jaunting across.”
Keasling closed the laptop and flicked on the lights. While the others squinted at the sudden light change, he continued. “Now, for all intents and purposes, we are invading a foreign country. A country that is still licking wounds opened when you all were just pups. You will not only leave your identification behind, but contact will be kept to a minimum. If you are captured, we cannot come for you. If you are killed, we will never know.”
Sara blanched as she listened to Keasling. She’d been so focused on her mission that she hadn’t given much thought to the physical danger she would soon face.
“The only time you will make contact is when your mission is complete and you are en route to the extraction zone. Any questions?”
“Yeah,” King said. “Where is Deep Blue?”
The team’s handler typically joined mission briefings—and often delivered them himself—via a remote connection, remaining silhouetted to protect his identity.
“Blue will not be a part of this mission,” Keasling replied.
Rook crossed his arms and tilted his head to the side. “Why the hell not?”
Keasling raised his voice a little. “Not only does satellite surveillance provide zero strategic advantage in a jungle too thick to penetrate, but he’s dealing with another crisis at the moment. You don’t have to like it. That’s just the way it is.”
Nods all around. They didn’t like it, but there wasn’t much they did like about most missions. Other than finishing them successfully. Being one of the world’s most elite special ops teams meant getting the hardest jobs in the worst-case scenarios. Not one of them would complain.
Keasling reached into his pocket and removed what looked like six wristwatches. He slid them, one at a time, to each member of the team. King slapped his hand over the device, then looked at the screen. It was blank save for a green bar of color stretching across the bottom of the small digital display. “These are?”
“In case you need inspiration. Essentially an outbreak meter. While we can’t have direct communication, these can receive signals that can’t be deciphered or interpreted. They’re based on the terror threat meter. Green means everything is hunky-dory. Red means the world is screwed.”
“Pandemic,” Sara said.
“Or the start of one,” Keasling corrected. “We’re technically at yellow now. Lewis will send a test signal while you’re in flight and upgrade the threat level from green to yellow.”
All six slipped the devices onto their wrists.
Keasling leaned forward, hands on the table. “We’ve picked up a slight increase in local chatter, but nothing to be concerned with. While we’re not expecting any hostiles, that doesn’t mean there won’t be any. Whoever sent the attack on President Duncan