47 Echo (12 page)

Their last addition was en route from Camp Justice, so Nick drove the Cougar to 47 Echo’s barracks. His men were happy to see him, if confused, so he ran through the whole story yet again for them.

Nick found he had his own room. He tossed his duffel onto the bed and took his boots off. His metallic toes clicked against the floor as he stretched them out. It was the first chance he’d had to sit down since he’d arrived at Firebase Zulu that morning, and he was looking forward to just relaxing for a few minutes when he heard a knock on his open doorframe.

“Hey, boss. So you’re back,” Anthony said. His voice was flat.

“Yep. Looks that way.”

“I wrote that article, you know. The one that got them to reopen your case.”

“I figured.”

“So why’d you undo that? Why’d you come back here?”

“Why do you think? It’s because I don’t want you and the other guys to die.”

“Tell that to Wes and Owen. Or Kenneth, if you can find him.”

“Yeah, I know. I mean, Kenneth, I couldn’t give a fuck. But Owen and Wes…I read the report, but it just listed them as killed in action. What happened?”

“We dropped in from a Black Hawk at two in the morning. Humped two miles on foot until we made it to the airfield. Light Chinese patrols, and we wiped ‘em out pretty easy. Christopher called for the birds to land, but there must’ve been a comm station somewhere we missed. As the troop planes were unloading, about a hundred CDMs rolled in on our position and started tearing the shit out of everything. Our fighter escort managed to help keep them off our backs, and we got the survivors back onto the three troop planes the CDMs didn’t blow up.”

“Yeah, that was mostly in the report.”

“Our extraction was the same Black Hawk that brought us in. We managed to find a truck at the airfield that still ran, one of those old ones that drives ladders up to incoming planes. Wes took a bullet to the face before we even got the truck started. Owen was the last in, and Chinese troops cut him down as we were escaping. Most of us took a couple of bullets, but Owen bled out on the escape flight. We’d made it to about 2000 feet before we realized Kenneth had escaped.”

Nick shook his head sadly. “We stop losing men today, Anthony. I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure we all make it to the end of this war.”

Anthony frowned. “How can you manage that?”

“I’ll manage it. And
that’s
why I came back.”

Nick got about half an hour to rest before the screen on his sleeve beeped—his scheduler was reminding him he had to get to the Special Forces briefing at C2 in ten minutes. Fortunately, it was only two minutes away on foot. Nick rose from his bed, strapped on his boots, and walked out into the house’s living room. Christopher was stretched out on the couch, reading a thick, leather-bound book.

“Whatcha reading?” Nick asked.

“Don’t know. It’s in Russian.”

“Is it good?”

“I’ve read better.”

“Come on. SF briefing in eight minutes.”

Christopher rolled off the couch and tossed the book on the coffee table.

“Fine by me. Never did like Russian literature anyway.”

Christopher and Nick walked the short distance to Command and Control, where Nick badged them into the secure meeting room on the fourth sub-level. They were still a few minutes early, but the place was already standing-room only. Christopher was the only convict in the room, and had more than one strange look shot his way.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” Colonel Sawyer Ross said, walking to the front of the room.

Everyone in attendance snapped to attention.

“As you were,” Ross said, looking out over the men before he spoke. “Here’s what we know at the present time. Chinese forces are holding steady ten miles to our south. Earlier today, however, they advanced on Firebase Victor, fifty-five clicks southeast of here. Army lost more than three hundred regular men and more than four hundred from the convict units. Survivors will be coming into Zulu by chopper. There aren’t many of them. Captain Haddix, you’ll be absorbing the remains of ODA-188 into your unit.”

“Sir!” one of the Army officers near Nick shouted.

“In the coming days, gentlemen, all of your units will have special assignments, thanks to a large amount of actionable intelligence provided by Lieutenant Morrow of 47 Echo.”

A few heads turned to look at Nick, but they quickly turned back to face Colonel Ross.

“Specifics of your assignments have already been communicated to your commanding officers, in most cases. Those of you who have not yet received assignments will before the end of the day. One other note before we wrap up—” The screen behind Ross flickered to life, showing a blurry image of what looked like a small fighter plane streaking through the daytime sky. “This image was captured at the attack on Firebase Victor. We’re not sure exactly, but witness reports indicate it’s a heavily armed UAV. There’s some kind of field emanating from it that’s made it impossible to get a weapons lock on it. Any information you gentlemen can discover on this thing will be immensely helpful.”

The image switched off.

“Questions?”

None of the assembled soldiers said a word.

“You’re dismissed, then. Except for 47 Echo and Company G, second MSOB. I’ll need you gentlemen to stay behind a moment.”

As the room emptied out, Nick watched to see who wasn’t leaving. A Marine Lieutenant and Gunnery Sergeant hung at the back of the room. The Lieutenant shot Nick a thumbs-up and a wide grin.

“Why does that smile make me nervous?” Christopher whispered to Nick.

“Thank you for staying behind, gentlemen. Lieutenant Morrow, Mr. Lee, meet Lieutenant Nathan and Gunnery Sergeant Mendel, G Company, second MSOB,” Ross said, walking to meet them at the back of the room.

“MSOB?” Christopher whispered.

“Marine Special Operations Battalion,” Nick whispered back as the two of them walked across to shake hands with the two Marines.

“You’re 47 Echo, right? Man, you’ve made the society pages. Good to meet you in person.” Nathan held out his hand, and Nick shook it.

“I have a special assignment for your team, Lieutenant Morrow,” Ross said. “Lieutenant Nathan and his unit will be your backup. You’ve had some time to assess your unit’s combat readiness. How do they look?”

“A little beaten. They’ll hold, sir.”

“Good. You’ll leave in two days. Lieutenant Nathan, your unit’s fresh in from Magadan, so you’ll be leaving to secure Echo’s extraction point this afternoon.”

“Understood, sir. And the extraction point is?”

Ross tapped the screen on his sleeve, and the huge screen at the front of the room flickered on again. A satellite photo of Russia appeared, showing Firebase Zulu and slowly zooming out.

“Your hold point—and Echo’s extraction point—is approximately four hundred kliks south-southwest of Firebase Zulu.”

“Shit. I mean—” Nathan said.

“No, Marine. Shit is right.” Ross nodded.

“That’s North Korea, sir.”

“You’re correct, Marine. Used to be Russia, but not anymore. I’m sending the exact coordinates and the latest Aero reports to your screen now. You should have a clear path. You’ll take two of the newest Razors with full stealth, find somewhere to hole up, and wait for 47 Echo’s transmission. Are we clear?”

“Clear, sir.”

“You’ll want to go load up, then.” Ross nodded toward the door.

Nathan and Mendel snapped to attention and saluted. Ross saluted them back, and they both walked out the door.

“If that’s their mission, I don’t even want to know what we’re up to,” Christopher muttered, shaking his head.

“I’m sure you don’t, convict. But your CO already knows and assures me your unit is solid to handle it. Morrow, are we good to go here?”

“Good to go, Colonel.”

“Outstanding. I’ve arranged what you asked for. Each of your men will have fifteen minutes to call home before you leave day after tomorrow.”

“Much appreciated, sir.”

“Least I could do. Rest up for the next couple of days. The doctors will be by to check up on your men tomorrow morning. Good luck, Echo.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Nick saluted, and Christopher awkwardly followed suit. As they walked back down the street toward their barracks, Christopher was silent. Just before Nick reached out to open the door, Christopher stopped him.

“Nick—he’s letting us call our families.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah. Yeah, Chris, he is.”

“He doesn’t expect us to come back, does he?”

“I don’t think he does, no.”

“Are we going to come back?”

Nick smiled. “Come on, Chris. Of course we are. I’ve got a plan, remember?”

Nick debated all the way up until his allotted phone time whether he was actually going to call anyone. He hadn’t told Stan he was going back into the Marines, nor had he contacted him during the two weeks he was at Quantico, though he’d had plenty of opportunities. Any conversation was bound to be awkward, but Nick ultimately decided he owed his only living family a sense of closure. He picked up the cell phone a Marine Alpha had brought to their barracks and dialed—it would be mid-afternoon in Los Angeles, so Nick tried his brother’s office number first.

“Department of Homeland Security, Los Angeles electronic surveillance section. Agent Rozansky.”

“Agent Rozansky, hey. Lieutenant Morrow, USMC. I’m looking for Agent Stanley Morrow.”

“One moment, sir.”

The line clicked, and soon Nick’s brother picked up.

“Agent Morrow. It is my duty to inform you that this call is being recorded. How may I assist you?”

“Stan. It’s Nick.”

“Hey, Nick! Good to hear from you, man! How’s life in the Marines?”

“You knew?”

“The lawyer you met with called us the day you left. He needed to let me know you’d listed me as next of kin.”

Nick suddenly felt a little stupid. He should have guessed that would happen. “Oh,” was all he said.

“So where do they have you stationed, or can you tell me?”

“I really can’t.”

“Yeah, thought as much. Since you’re in the real Marines now, I guess you’ll get to call every once in a while, huh?”

“Hopefully. How are Sara and the kids?”

“Kids are good. Sara’s…well, Sara. She’s proud of you, though, for joining up. We all are.”

“And Cedric?”

“Waiting for the day he turns sixteen. You really going to give him the Jag?”

“Yeah. By the time I get back from my six-year hitch, I’ll look pretty fucking silly driving the thing. It’s a young man’s car, Stan.”

“Well, I thought you looked pretty fucking silly driving the thing the second you turned twenty-five.” Stan chuckled.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. Hey, listen…I don’t have a whole lot of time on the phone. I just wanted to call and let you know I’m all right.”

“I’m glad you did, brother. I can’t tell you how proud of you we all are out here.”

“Thanks, Stan. You take care of yourself, all right? My love to Sara and the kids.”

“And theirs to you. Be safe out there, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Dad would be proud too, Nick.”

Nick’s voice caught in his throat for a second. “Yeah. Yeah, I suppose he would. I’ll call when I can, Stan.”

“Until then, bro.”

Nick hung up the phone. He’d intended to tell Stan more—that he might not be coming home again. But he’d decided as soon as he heard his brother’s voice that he didn’t want that to be the last conversation they had.

Nick walked back out into 47 Echo’s living room and tossed the phone to Gabriel. “You’re up, kid.” Nick smiled at him, swallowing hard to keep the lump in his throat at bay.

The doctors had cleared everyone for duty, and Nick and his men had all made their calls home by noon the next day. At two in the afternoon, Nick and Christopher were sitting on the front porch of 47 Echo’s barracks, smoking cigarettes. The screen on Nick’s sleeve flashed. He tapped it a few times and read the email that appeared.

“What’s up, boss?”

“Last permanent member of our team just showed up.”

“Permanent member?”

“Yeah. We’re going to have a special ridealong on this mission, too.”

“Ah.”

“So, I’m off to the helipad to make a pickup. You want to roll with?”

Christopher shrugged and flicked his spent cigarette out into the street. “Sure. Beats sitting around here sweating the mission.”

“Come on. You can drive the Cougar.”

The Western helipad was only a four-minute drive away, but Christopher managed to kill off another cigarette while he was driving. As they approached the helipad, they saw a Black Hawk with its rotors just spinning down. Christopher parked the Cougar fifty feet back from the chopper, and he and Nick hopped to the pavement.

The chopper’s door slid open, and two huge men in Air Force fatigues hopped out, each carrying a large, black case.

“Which one’s ours?” Christopher asked.

“Neither.”

A small woman with short, black hair, dressed in the convict gray of Delta Flight, bounced out behind the two huge Airmen and stretched her arms above her head.

“That’s her.”

Christopher’s right eyebrow shot up. “It’s a
her?
”

“That’s Mary Katherine Wells. Before she got arrested, she was one of the most infamous digital criminals in the U.S. She hacked Homeland Security, the TSA, the IRS and pretty much any other government acronym you can think of. We want to get into and out of North Korea alive, we’re going to need her.”

“She ever been in a combat situation before?”

“Nope. They’ve had her in an office in Justice since she was convicted six months ago.”

The two Airmen approached and saluted Nick, who saluted back. They loaded the two cases into the back seat of the Cougar then headed back to the chopper.

As Mary approached, she raised her hand in a salute. “Delta Flight 4175, reporting for duty, sir.”

Nick saluted then stuck out his hand. Mary looked at it for a moment before shaking it.

“Mary. I’m Nick. We use names in this unit, not numbers.”

“Okay…Nick. Um, I haven’t been briefed on the mission yet, Lieutenant.”

“Join the club,” Christopher grumbled.

“We’ve got another member of the team joining us from Justice. He’s supposed to be on the next chopper in. Soon as he gets here, I’ll run the mission briefing. You brought all your gear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“The ‘sir’ bit isn’t necessary. You can just call me Nick. Everyone else in the unit does. Welcome to 47 Echo, Mary. We’ve got you set up in your own room in our bunkhouse—assuming our mission specialist gets here on time, we leave tomorrow morning.”

Nick gestured to the Cougar, and Mary climbed awkwardly into the back seat. Christopher fired up the engine, and they headed back to the barracks.

“Sir?” Mary shouted from the back seat.

“Just Nick, please.”

“Right, right. Nick. Um, any chance of getting some food? I haven’t eaten in what feels like days.”

“Yeah. We’ve got some dinner being delivered from the Army kitchen on the Firebase in a couple of hours. Not as good as the officers’ food at Justice, but it’ll do.”

“As long as it’s not those nightmare FSRs.” Mary smiled.

Christopher laughed. “I think you’re gonna like 47 Echo, lady.”

The newly augmented unit prepared dinner in their bunkhouse. Nick noticed that most of his men were giving Mary a wide berth, looking at her only from the corner of an eye, treating her almost as if she were an alien rather than just a girl. Nick was considering saying something when someone knocked on the door to their barracks. Gabriel, who was sitting closest, opened the door. Through the open kitchen door, Nick could just make out a young Asian man in Air Force blues standing outside, his hat in his hand. His short sleeves didn’t do much to hide the tattoos covering both of his arms.

“Uh, hi. Tech Sergeant Pak. I was told to report to a Lieutenant Morrow?”

“Yeah, man. Come on in. You hungry? We got Chicken Kiev in here like a motherfucker.” Gabriel smiled.

“Yeah. I could eat.” Pak nodded, looking at the table piled high with Chicken Kiev, steamed rice and boiled vegetables. “Man. When they told me I was riding with a convict unit, I expected stale FSRs and water packets. You guys always eat this well?”

“Whenever we can scam it, sure.” Gabriel pointed Pak to an empty chair.

Nick walked into the room at that moment, and Pak stiffened up and threw a crisp salute. “Sir! Technical Sergeant Ryan Pak, reporting as ordered, sir!”

“Calm down, Ryan.” Nick chuckled. “I’m Nick. You’ve met Gabriel, I see. I’ll introduce you around in a second. Sit down. Eat something. Nice ink, by the way.”

“Sir…you’re Chinese, sir?”

“Half. Mother’s side. Like I said, have a seat, man. I’ll explain everything, but right now, I’m starving. Let’s eat, folks.”

Obviously still a bit confused, Ryan sat down, and plates started circulating around the table. As everyone filled the dishes in front of them, Nick introduced Ryan to the unit.

Before everyone started to eat, Nick pointed at Ryan with his fork. “Hey, Ryan. Why don’t you tell everyone what it is you do.” Nick smiled, cutting into his Kiev.

“Oh, right. Uh, like I said, Tech Sergeant Ryan Pak. I’m a translator. Korean. Not quite sure why I’m riding along yet, but, uh, hi.”

“Korean?” Michael asked.

“Yeah. We’re definitely going to need it where we’re headed,” Nick told them.

That seemed as good a time as any to start laying out the mission, so Nick put on a couple of pots of coffee as Peter and Anthony cleared the table. As soon as everyone had a mug in front of them, Nick stood up and walked to the screen at the far side of the dining room. “All right, folks. Here’s the situation. Some of you were with us when we managed to pull a bunch of hardware out of a CDM near Post K-13R. Initially, it looked like only one of the drives we pulled was salvageable. Thanks to our friends in Air Force Delta Flight,” Nick nodded at Mary, “that assessment turned out to be premature.”

The screen flickered on behind him, showing a screen full of Chinese characters.

“I don’t expect any of you to understand this, but Delta Flight managed to salvage nearly ninety-seven percent of the information the CDM had. This has yielded information for a combination of missions that Command and Control is calling Operation Knockout. All of the Special Forces units in a four hundred-mile radius have been called to Firebase Zulu, and all of them have parts to play in Knockout.”

“Including us, looks like,” Michael piped up.

“Yep. Ours is the most dangerous, and probably the hardest of the missions.”

“Of course,” Anthony mumbled.

“Now, let me first say that there’s no way we can even be sure of this intel. We’re basically acting on little better than a rumor here, but if what Delta Flight pulled out of those Chinese servers is true, we have to do something. Mary, you want to take this? It was your work hacking into the Chinese Army network that got us the information.”

Mary looked surprised. “Wait,
that’s
what we’re doing?”

Nick nodded.

“Well, crap. Uh, okay. Like the Lieutenant said, I found enough information on some of those drives to attempt a hack into the Chinese Army network. I got in, with the help of one of our translators back at Justice, and we found numerous references to some kind of…project. Something big, something they’re working on deep in North Korea.”

“What kind of project?” Christopher asked.

“We’re not sure. Something both Chinese and North Korean scientists have been working on for the past three months. We don’t have many details—just the name, really. Project Zhu.”

“What’s that mean?” Daniel asked.

“Roughly translated, it means ‘Bad Omen,’” Nick replied.

“Oh. Awesome,” Christopher said, rolling his eyes.

“We leave at 0430 local tomorrow morning. We’re taking the same Razor we took to K-13R, and only travelling at night under full stealth. We’ll have some backup about two hundred and fifty miles away, but for the worst part of it, we’re on our own,” Nick told them. “I’d suggest getting as much sleep as possible.”

“Boss, question?” Martin chimed in for the first time all night.

“Yeah, Martin.”

“How the hell are we going to get into North Korea, even with stealth?”

“Gentlemen and lady, some of you have already met him, but for those that haven’t—meet David John Bryce, the best T-5 truck driver the world ever saw.” Nick smiled at Bryce, who tipped an imaginary hat back at Nick. “Finished, what was it, second in the Dakar rally two years ago?”

Bryce nodded.

“You ever handled something as big as a Razor, Bryce?” Anthony asked.

“You know what a T-5 is, kid? It’s about the same size as a Razor, maybe a little bigger. Drove a modified one that was definitely heavier than our Razors in the Baja extreme and finished first.” Bryce shrugged.

“All right. Definitely our man.” Christopher grinned.

“I’ll want to meet with you all individually before we leave to discuss your mission responsibilities. For now, though, relax. Get some rest. We’re going to be stuck in the Razor for a long time, so snatch whatever privacy you can.”

Nick finished off the last of his coffee and headed outside for a cigarette.

“So, I hear they offered to let you command the mission from here,” Christopher said, walking out onto the porch and standing next to Nick.

“Sure. Standard operating procedure for convict units. Real marines have a chance to stay behind and command through their SIC for the really dangerous ones.”

“And you decided to come along?”

“Staying behind was never an option in my mind. I’m with you guys on this one, and the next one, and so on. Whole reason I came back.”

“All right, then, bro. What’s my job on the mission?”

“You’re still my SIC, Chris. You’re there to second-guess any dodgy decision I might make. If and when I get killed, you’re in charge of the unit and the mission. Which means you’ll need this.” Nick pulled an e-reader from his coat pocket and handed it to Nick.

“Which is?”

“Full mission specs. All the classified stuff I’m not allowed to tell the rest of the unit. Anything happens to me, you read that.”

“Nothing’s going to happen to you, boss.”

“So we both hope. But gotta be prepared just in case. Now, before you head back into the house, I need you to track down a couple of things for the mission.”

“Something Command didn’t already hook you up with?”

“Stuff that we’ll need your special talents to procure.” Nick grinned.

“Well, all right, then.”

Nick told Christopher what they needed, and the tall, thin man nodded and walked off into the darkened base.

After another cigarette, Nick crawled into the Razor to make sure all of the equipment he’d requested had been loaded. The interior of the Razor was huge, but it was going to be cramped for the next couple of days, loaded down as it was with weapons, ammo, FSRs, water packets, MREs, Mary’s computers and Martin’s explosives and tools. He expected the mission to take almost two full weeks, in and out—he wasn’t looking forward to the smell once they’d all been cramped inside for a while.

His quick inventory revealed that everything he’d asked for had been loaded, so Nick hopped out of the Razor and closed it up. Michael was sitting outside smoking, and he waved at Nick.

“What’s up, Mike?”

“Hey, Nick. I hate to sound like Captain Bringdown, but this mission doesn’t seem like one we’re coming back from.”

“Don’t worry, my man. We’ll be fine.”

“Man, I hope you’re right.”

Nick hoped he was right, too.