and a self-sutured gash over his kneecap were souvenirs of the two hours he’d spent silently climbing back down the dark slope.
The remaining ISIS forces had assumed Coleman would go up and try to escape over the top, leaving them completely unprepared when the four Americans walked into their camp with silenced pistols. Things had gotten a little hairy when the inexperienced force panicked and started shooting wildly in every direction, but eventually they all ended up dead.
By then, though, it was too late to do anything for Rapp. More ISIS troops had joined the hunt and there were headlights spread out in a search pattern that was probably five miles wide. Worse was the fact that a few of them noticed the shooting behind and reversed course to provide support for their comrades.
Piling into the ISIS pickups and turning tail was one of the hardest decisions Coleman had ever made. But with that many enemy fighters and no idea where Rapp was, there had been no other option.
“Screw the photos,” Coleman said, sweeping them off the desk. “They’re not going to tell us anything we don’t already know. Mitch is out there and there’s only so far he could have gotten in the last . . .” He paused and looked at his watch, cursing silently. “ . . . forty-three hours. All we need is air support from the Saudis and to bring in—”
“It’s not going to happen, Scott.”
“What do you mean it’s not going to happen?”
“America’s role in the Middle East in general—and Yemen in particular—has come under a lot of scrutiny since the presidential primaries started. Christine Barnett is on the attack and everyone else is in defense mode. Getting anyone to authorize an operation in Yemen and trying to get any meaningful cooperation from the Saudis at this point is . . .” Her voice faded but the message was clear.
“So after everything Mitch has done for the president, America—and even Saudi Arabia—this is how they repay him? By abandoning him in the middle of the Yemeni desert? Because the optics might not be great inside the Beltway?”
“I’m afraid optics are all that’s left inside the Beltway,” Kennedy said. “But I’m not completely powerless. Not yet. I have a chopper pilot on his way to you and I’ll find a way to borrow an aircraft. I’ve also contacted a number of private contractors who have worked with either you or Mitch in the past. We’re bringing them in—”
“When?” Coleman said, cutting her off for perhaps the first time in his life.
“You should have one chopper and as many as ten men within thirty-six hours.”
He did the math in his head. “By then he’ll have been out there for more than three days with nothing but a half-full CamelBak, an M4, and a couple of spare mags.”
“Christine Barnett has everyone on—”
“I don’t give a shit about that crazy bitch!” he shouted but then lowered his voice after realizing he’d just yelled at the director of the CIA. “I’m sorry, Irene.”
“I’m as frustrated and angry as you are, Scott. And I’m doing everything I can.”
“I know. Keep me posted,” he said and then disconnected the call.
He lowered himself into the chair behind him and looked down at the useless photos scattered across the floor. That was it. Mitch Rapp had been abandoned. And not just by the American and Saudi politicians. By him. He should have told Rapp to shove his orders up his ass. He should be out there fighting with him. And if necessary dying with him. One last charge into a barrage of ISIS bullets would be a hundred times better than sitting in this room doing nothing.
His sat phone rang and he declined the call when he saw that it was Claudia. What could he tell her? That Mitch was somewhere in the desert with every ISIS fighter in Yemen either searching for him or on their way to search for him? That instead of helping, his team was sitting around with their thumbs up their asses?
“You should talk to her.”
Joe Maslick was sitting on a stool in the corner of the tiny room, feeling as helpless as he was. The others were checking their weapons or catching some shut-eye on the building’s bombed-out second floor, waiting for word that they were going back into action.
Coleman nodded and was about to reach for the sat phone when the door leading to the office started to swing inward. Instead of the phone he grabbed