The Final Fire of Bright Skies

CHAPTER ONE

December 11, 2003

In the Chinook heading back to canyons north of Rawa, Iraq

Ten minutes before sunrise

• • • • •

Why didn’t you try and take Rusty to one of the ships in the Gulf?

For a long moment, Marshall didn’t answer. He took a deep breath before he finally responded.

It’s well over an hour to the coast and further to the closest hospital ship. He never would have made it. His body was shutting down before you and Johnson got to the building.

LT was gritting his jaw, but his anger was apparent. Now that he and Marshall were alone in the cockpit of the stealthy Chinook, the questions he didn’t get to ask Marshall in the mayhem of Saddam escaping and Rusty getting bitten by a snake in the booby-trapped box were nagging at his mind.

He might have made it. He was strong. LT looked over at Marshall now. You never fucking gave him a chance.

Marshall saw LT out of his peripheral vision, but he didn’t turn to look at him. He didn’t want LT to see the guilt that Marshall knew was on his face. These same accusations had been niggling his conscience since the helicopter convoy became airborne and his thoughts became his own in the radio silence of the return flight.

You know as well as I do… Marshall involuntarily swallowed hard and had to stop. He took a breath and started again. He had maybe twenty minutes before the anti-venom wouldn’t have made any difference. After that, he might have made it twenty more minutes before he died in agony… And that’s only because he was as strong as he was. Another man wouldn’t have made it half that long.

You could’ve called the Marines. They could’ve sent a Harrier to bring the anti-venom. It could’ve been here in twenty minutes… tops.

Now Marshall turned toward him.

You don’t think I had the same idea? I went through every scenario I could come up with between the time I saw the snake and when I gave the order. I thought of an air drop from a Naval jet launched from a Carrier that has the anti-venom on board… They might have made it here before he died… might have. Or the Marine Harrier base on the coast could’ve shuttled the medicine from the nearest hospital ship and maybe had it here in time… maybe. I tried to come up with any idea at all that would give him a fighting chance. But they were all a distant long shot at best. Then I remembered one small detail. Every one of those ideas also meant I’d have to call in and ask for help. And the first thing I’d have to do is give ‘em our location.

Marshall stopped and let LT ponder this for a second. Then he started again, but he was getting angrier.

And whaddya think would’ve happened the moment I did that? Huh LT? You really believe medicine would’ve been coming over the southern horizon a few minutes after I put down the radio? Cause I’m pretty sure they’d have sent another couple of cruise missiles and just forgot about the anti-venom. There was no way to get Rusty to the anti-venom before he died, and any hope of trying to get anti-venom here in time would’ve sacrificed us all.

Marshall waited for a long beat then turned back to the front of the hard to fly helicopter. He shook his head slightly before he started again.

You’re right. I could’ve pulled out all the stops to try and save Rusty… But I didn’t. I take full responsibility for it. It was my decision and my order. I’ll have to live with the consequences of my decision… But I don’t have to justify my order.

LT looked over at Marshall in the dim light of the cockpit. The night-vision equipment over Marshall’s eyes hid the details of his expression, but LT could tell from his posture that Marshall was bordering on the edge of furious. LT turned back to the front and didn’t say anything. It was time to let Marshall calm down. When Marshall had a cool head, LT knew what a force his mind could become as a leader. But when Marshall was angry, his body and mind were so skilled in the arts of war and death that he could produce levels of hell even Satan would be proud of, and perhaps a little intimidated by. LT had witnessed this in person, which is why he decided now was not a good time to discuss this with Marshall. He’d wait until Marshall wanted to talk about it again. After all, he was the commanding officer, and he was in charge.

That’s what LT loved about the military; chain of command.

There was always a last word, and you never had to decide who got it.

‘But that didn’t mean you couldn’t instigate the last word,’ thought LT to himself before he turned to Marshall and smiled. I wouldn’t worry about living with the consequences of your decision. You’re assuming we’re gonna make it out of this alive. I don’t hold any such foolish notions. This shit ain’t over yet. Not even close.

Marshall looked over at him and smiled, although the image in LT’s night-vision goggles made Marshall’s teeth glow bright green. LT looked back out the front of the cockpit and could see the sky had lightened considerably. He flipped up the night-vision goggles and let his eyes adjust to the pre-dawn sky just as Marshall answered him.

Don’t worry. I got an idea.

And that was the last word until they got back to the canyon with the rest of the squadron.

• • •

Do you want me to tell the other men about Rusty?

All three helos had just safely landed down inside the canyon. LT unbuckled his belt, but he still had the headset on. Marshall was shutting down the big helo but stopped and looked over at his second in command.

No… I’ll do it.

Then Marshall remembered something.

Who processed the intel grab from Grayson’s compound?

Barton’s team handled it. After we landed here, I told him to take apart everything we found at Grayson’s compound and search for any type of tracking hardware.

Did he put Grayson’s satellite phone back together after he checked it for a tracker?

Yeah, but I told him to leave out the battery. Why? What’s your plan Kemosabe?

The Lone Ranger reference made Marshall laugh a little to himself. LT had privately called him by that nickname since the South American incident, but it suddenly seemed to have real meaning. LT saw him smiling at the comment and chuckled, too. But it was strained.

Go ahead and laugh Lone Ranger. But it’s not just you and me, anymore. Everyone you put together on this team is on the other side of the law, now. And unless you got a good idea about how we’re supposed to get the fuck outta Iraq, then we’re gonna be lucky if we all don’t end up swinging by the neck on the end of a rope… So what’s your plan, Kemosabe?

Marshall looked out the cockpit windshield. The sun was almost fully above the horizon as they were just landing in the canyon. Now that the dust was settling, he could see the impromptu camp and camouflaged aircraft clearly in the first full rays of morning. He finished the shutdown and unbuckled as he answered.

First, we get these birds moved into the shadows and covered until tonight. Then I create a diversion and we escape. That’s the plan.

At that, Marshall smiled stiffly. Then he jumped up, stepped through the door into the main hold of the helicopter and was gone. LT let his jaw fall open a little as he mumbled to himself.

That’s not a plan… that’s a wish list.

He shook his head as he stood up and followed Marshall out of the stealthy Chinook. The two stealthy Black Hawk helicopters that accompanied them to Saddam’s safe-house were finishing their shutdown behind the big bird, and the sound of their turbojets began to whine down in the close confines of the sandstone walls. As the noise dwindled off, LT waved to several men about twenty-five yards away who were standing under desert camouflage tarps which had been stretched over the spaces between the other two Chinook helicopters and the side of the canyon. By the time they got to him, the engine noise was essentially gone, and he could speak in a normal volume. When the first man arrived, LT turned and pointed to an area where the ground was hard flat rock that went back under an overhang behind the Chinook he just arrived on.

Grab some more men and get this one pushed against that wall over there and cover it with the camo tarp. Then push the other two Black Hawks behind it on the far side. And do it pronto. I don’t want these birds out in the open.

The men nodded their heads and then took off to complete the order. LT had to look around for a second to find Marshall. He finally saw him talking to Barton under another rocky overhang across the canyon next to one of the normal Black Hawks which were also covered with sand colored tarps. Before LT could change direction, he saw Marshall stick out his hand and Barton put Grayson’s satellite phone in it. Then Barton handed him the battery. LT yelled across the canyon.

Hang on a second, Colonel! Don’t put that battery in, yet.

Marshall and Barton both looked up as LT sprinted across the dry rock floor of the canyon. When he got to them a few seconds later, he looked at Barton.

If he makes a satellite call, can they trace the call to the handset?

Barton smiled at LT.

That’s the same question the Colonel just asked me. I’ll tell you the same thing I told him. This is an encrypted handset. It takes two of them to work because the encryption and decryption occurs inside the handset at both ends. This type of phone doesn’t hide the signal from being detected or listened in on, it just encrypts the voices so no one can understand what’s being said. But everything else is just plain commercial satellite phone technology. With a system like this, they can identify the sector that you’re in as soon as you place the call. But without a bunch of equipment in place ahead of time, they can’t easily triangulate the handset.

LT absorbed this but shot out another question before Barton quit smiling.

What about tapping the line. Couldn’t they use another decryption device to listen in on the calls?

Barton shook his head. Not for an encrypted call… But this phone can also make regular calls that aren’t encrypted. For a regular call, they could just tap the line and listen in with typical eavesdropping equipment. But an encrypted call is point to point. It takes a digital handshake between both ends to encrypt and then decrypt the call. Those calls can be listened in on, but they can’t be decrypted. That’s the purpose of this type of unit. The only thing that can be heard by unauthorized listeners is digital static unless it’s decrypted. The best that could be done with phones like these is trying to triangulate the handset, which like I said isn’t easy unless you’re anticipating it ahead of time.

It they have the means to triangulate it, how accurate is the area they can narrow the call down to?

I told the Colonel the answer to that question, too. If they have triangulating equipment in place, it’s gonna depend on how long the call is. The longer you stay on, the more signal points they can use to narrow the location. For a minute or less, they probably can’t get it down to less than a single grid sector, which is what they know when you place the call. For a phone like this, that’s probably not less than about eighty to a hundred mile radius from the handset. It mostly depends on where the satellites in the constellation are when the call is placed.

How long would the call have to be before they could accurately triangulate the handset location?

Barton thought about it for a second, then shook his head slightly before he answered.

I can’t be absolutely sure cuz there’s a lot of factors that could affect it. But if it was me using the equipment, it shouldn’t take more than four or five minutes to pinpoint the phone’s geolocation down to about a ten meter square.

Marshall smiled at LT now. That’s perfect for what I need.

LT didn’t smile back, but he did drill his eyes into Marshall. How do you know they don’t have equipment already set up to trace this line?

I thought about that. But if they could locate Grayson’s phone, why would the President need to put a tracker in mine?

LT started to say something, but realized that Marshall was making sense about this. Instead, LT pointed to the phone in Marshall’s hand.

That’s not from the President’s office. It’s from the Vice President. Now that Grayson’s gone, what makes you think the VP isn’t gonna try and find him. How do you know he isn’t gonna put equipment in place to trace the phone now?

Marshall tucked the phone and battery into his pocket and then pointed back at LT.

That’s what I’m counting on.

Then he turned and yelled over his shoulder as he started back across the canyon.

LT, get the men together. I have some announcements.

LT shook his head as Marshall strode away. Then he looked over to Barton.

You heard the man. Get your team and Bravo team and go help move those three helicopters against the canyon wall. Then meet us on the other side.

Barton nodded as LT turned and followed Marshall’s footsteps across the ancient riverbed floor of their temporary camp. The sun was fully above the horizon now, and a sharp line of light began to glow on the top edge of the west walls of the canyon. The reflection lit up the rocky floor with a reddish yellow incandescence like a line of sodium vapor street lamps, which made the whole area glow in subtle shades from vermillion to orange. When they first decided to come here, LT wasn’t sure the canyons would keep them entirely off the view of a satellite that might scan over this area. But as the helicopters began to land inside the canyon, the rotor wash blew the sand and rubble clear from the almost flat bedrock below this section. When Marshall and LT realized the rock floor was solid, they had the men shove the fleet of wheeled helicopters as close to the overhanging portions of the curved wall of the canyon as they could get them without damaging the rotors on the aircraft.

As LT made his way toward the makeshift tent between the first two Chinooks, he stopped in the middle of the deep ravine they were using as a hideout. Then he turned and visually checked each of the nine helicopters and their camouflage in the full light of morning. This large curved section of the canyon had a small overhanging cliff along the outside which created a semi protected area below. After the men got these last three helicopters pushed against the outside canyon wall, the fleet would be partially covered by solid rock in addition to the camouflage tarps. But as LT looked around at the entire curved section of canyon, he knew it wasn’t a great hideout in the grand scheme of things. It was wide open and impossible to fortify. Plus there was no easy escape route for either men or helicopters. This was an acceptable temporary hideout, but it was a lousy defensive position. He shook his head as he started walking toward the two covered Chinooks again. LT was anxious to know what Marshall had planned, because he didn’t want to stay here any longer than necessary.

Before he got far, he heard a voice come running up from the direction of the last Chinook.

Sergeant Major… hang on a second.

Johnson the medic jogged up and stopped in front him. Then he lowered his voice.

We gotta problem.

LT mumbled to himself. What else is new? Then he spoke up. What is it?

After we landed, I went to put some cooling packs from my medical kit on Rusty. I figured since we don’t really have a timetable for getting him back, I’d better take some precautions. But when I was in the back of the Chinook, I decided to check the package with the geiger counter, again.

Suddenly LT got very interested. And…

Well, when I measured it the first time after we got the lead box loaded and strapped down on the pallet, it was safe. The levels were just above background. But it doesn’t look like the lead box was constructed very well. It must’ve shifted during the return trip because it’s putting out a lot more radiation now.

Is it dangerous?

No sir. It’s about what the artillery round the device is based on puts out. That’s what makes me think the box is leaking and not the nuke. The amount of radiation it normally puts out is low enough that it’s not really harmful without long periods of very close exposure.

If it’s not dangerous, then what’s the problem?

The problem is it’s putting out enough radiation to be detectable now. And it’s enough radiation to leave a detectable trail over time. That’s what the lead box was obviously built for, to hide the signature of the bomb from detection so they could move it and store it without leaving a hot radiation trail that inspectors could find. But now that it’s leaking, I need to get it outta the back of the Chinook before it contaminates the floor and makes that visible to nuclear sensors, too.

If it’s leaking, how you gonna move it?

The box still looks intact. It must have cracked open a seam in the lead panels or something. But the whole thing is still on the pallet and strapped down. So I can move it with the forklift and not have to bounce it around too much. Johnson turned and pointed back up the canyon behind the three helicopters being covered. There’s a little grotto up there behind some big boulders. I can shove it in there and it’ll mostly be covered by rock. That’ll cover the radiation as well as I can do without some new lead panels.

LT didn’t hesitate.

Do it. But do it fast. Then get back over here. The Colonel needs to talk to all of us. You need to be there.

Johnson looked LT in the eyes and nodded. Then he turned and started jogging back to the Chinook. LT shook his head for a moment as he watched the unhooded executioner of Rusty jog back to go hide a leaking nuclear bomb just a few hundred feet from them. The sheer insanity of the thought made LT grimace as he turned and headed for the makeshift assembly tent.

• • •

A short while after the last three helicopters and the package were properly moved and covered, all four teams were standing in front of Marshall and LT in the shade under the tarps. Marshall didn’t waste any time once the group was assembled and quieted down.

This was a secret mission directly from the President. That’s why you were individually chosen and why it was voluntary.

Marshall stopped and looked around the group.

I know none of you are married because I only chose single men for this mission. But how many of you are in a long-term relationship?

For a second, no one moved. Then the big man, Randy, raised his hand. No one else did. Marshall looked hard at him.

Is it serious?

Randy thought about it for a second, then he lowered his hand.

Naw… not really. I was gonna break up with her anyway.

Everyone chuckled and Marshall allowed himself a small smile. After a second, everyone got quiet again. Marshall made a point of quickly looking into the eyes of each soldier in the group. To a man, they were all staring back with the same intensity as Marshall. He knew he had chosen well when he assembled this team, and this was proof. After all they had been through in the last forty-eight hours, these men were still sharp and capable. They were the best of the best as far as Marshall was concerned, and he wanted to be straight with them.

Every one of you has been in the Unit long enough to know the score. In our line of work, there’s always the possibility of something going wrong. When we accepted this assignment, me included, we all knew there was a good chance this job could go to hell. And for the record… it has. Unfortunately, when things go wrong in our job, people always die. And when things get really bad, all of us know we’re officially considered expendable. Marshall stopped and let this sink in. The powers above have now decided that we’re expendable and they’ve already tried to kill us once. I don’t know about you, but I don’t wanna be dead. If you don’t wanna be dead, too, then we all need to disappear. So that’s what we’re gonna do now. We’re gonna disappear.

Is there no way to fix this? LT wasn’t smiling. He’d been through this before.

Marshall shook his head. Maybe… Deniable covert missions like this one are kept unofficial and off the books just for this possibility, in case they need to write it off. In a normal off-book mission that goes bad, they wouldn’t have any reason to even talk to us. They’d just send a hit squad to kill us. Then they’d redline our dossiers and lock the files away. End of story. Now Marshall smiled and gestured his hands toward the helicopters behind everyone. But in this case, we got one gigantic fucking reason, six big reasons, and three billion little reasons to make ‘em wanna talk to us. Then he turned and spoke to the group. LT is right. I might be able to fix this. But don’t misunderstand me. We still gotta disappear, because as long as we’re in this war zone, we’re gonna be high-value targets.

For another long moment, no one said anything as the enormity of what Marshall was saying began to sink into the group of soon to be ex Special Forces operatives.

Randy was the first to speak again.

Once we get outta here, can’t we go back to the Unit? Won’t we be safe there?

Marshall shook his head. They’ve already proven they’re willing to sacrifice us, the helicopters, and their money just to get Saddam’s nuke. The only way I can use these things to help us is if we can keep ‘em safe and keep all of ‘em together. However, I can’t do that until we get the hell outta Iraq and then off the grid, entirely. If they know where we are, they’ll send someone after us. Trust me, you won’t be safe back home.

Randy nodded for a second as he contemplated the situation. If we can’t go back to the Unit, where we gonna go, Colonel?

Marshall nodded as he looked around the group again.

Ever since the Unit was created, the senior members have maintained a secret program for this exact reason. If a Unit member gets sacrificed and has to go to ground, we’ve accumulated the private resources to help them get off the grid and stay alive. Once you’re in the Unit, you’re never alone… and you will never be abandoned by the rest of us.

Randy and the others who didn’t know about the secret relocation program visibly relaxed.

LT didn’t. He turned to Marshall and tried to speak calmly.

You know, this isn’t just you and me this time. With this many people and this much equipment, we can’t just hide like we did before. Where we gonna go? And how the hell do you suggest we smuggle a nuclear bomb out of an active war zone?

That’s what the diversion will be for.

What diversion?

The best diversion there is.

Suddenly LT understood what Marshall was saying. His eyes got wide.

Oh no… You’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking…

That’s exactly what I’m thinking. Marshall grinned.

LT shook his head. We don’t have enough firepower for that.

That’s what this is for. Marshall pulled Grayson’s satellite phone out of his pocket and handed it to LT. You’re gonna take Grayson’s three Black Hawks into Baghdad for supplies and you’re gonna use that phone to open the doors. You can track down the surprise, too. And while you’re doing that, I’ll take care of Saddam with Patrick and O’Leary. When we’re finished, we come back here and prepare to get the fuck outta Iraq. Marshall stopped and looked hard at LT for a moment. It worked before, it’ll work this time.

LT returned the laser stare but didn’t say anything.

Scotty interrupted their stand-off.

Uh, Colonel… you wanna let us in on what we’re doing?

Marshall sighed as he broke his stare with LT. Then he nodded at Scotty.

Yeah, LT and I will go over the plan in a minute. But first…

After a brief second, Marshall turned and faced the group again.

I have one more thing to discuss with all of you.

After Marshall was sure everyone was listening, he waited for another long moment. He knew what he was about to say next would change the way the men looked at him. He took a long deep breath before he started.

Those of you who didn’t go with us to Saddam’s safe-house may have noticed… we’re two people short on the return trip. When we got there, Saddam tried to double-cross us and the package was booby-trapped. The crate with the bomb had a black mamba snake in it. When Rusty was checking the nuke, the snake attacked him. As you all know, the black mamba is not native to Iraq, it’s from Africa. We didn’t have the correct anti-venom in our medical kits, and the closest source of medicine was probably one of the Naval ships in the Gulf. Marshall paused. Then he took a quick breath and began again. Unfortunately, the snake bit Rusty in the neck multiple times. He didn’t have more than thirty minutes at the outside before the medicine would’ve been too late, and the trip was at least two hours away by our fastest helicopter. There was no way to get Rusty to a facility that could treat him.

Marshall stopped and looked around the group before starting again.

And before any of you get the same idea, I thought about calling for help. But it would have taken coordinating a complex airdrop effort with multiple commands. And even those might not have made it in time. But to try any of that, the first thing I would’ve had to do is call in and give them our location. After what we all saw this morning, which was aimed at me personally, I was confident if we had called in for help, then we would’ve been the target of another missile attack.

Several of the men who stayed behind began looking around the group when they realized Rusty and Saddam weren’t with them. Then a voice came from the back.

Where’s Saddam, Colonel? Did he get away?

Marshall shook his head. He tried, but we caught him. I threw him into a hidden rabbit hole that he tried to hide in. It’s too deep for him to get out and we pulled up the ladder after we tossed him in. I left him there and I’m gonna turn him over to TF-21. They have a formal process to deal with him. That gets him outta our hair and into the correct military authorities.

After a moment of silence, several voices from the group softly echoed together. What happened to Rusty, Colonel?

Marshall gritted his jaw together for a long beat and forced himself to straighten his posture. Then he answered slowly as he made eye-contact around the group. He wasn’t going to look away. These men deserved to see the man who ordered Rusty’s death stand up tall and take responsibility for it, even it made them hate him.

I ordered that he be given a fatal overdose of morphine. He died in my hands.

Even among this group of seasoned military professionals, the news startled them into a breathless moment.

Marshall couldn’t help it and glanced down slightly. Then he quickly caught himself and looked back up. But as he glanced around at the group, he could tell the question that was on all of their faces. After another long moment of silence, Marshall shook his head slightly as he answered.

No man left behind… Rusty’s in a body-bag in the back of the Chinook. He’s going with LT to Baghdad so we can send him back to the states to his family. When I speak to Colonel Patrick back at the Unit, I’ll make sure he handles it personally… Rusty’s going home.

Then Marshall stopped talking. Among a group of men like these, sometimes silence said the most. As he slowly looked around the group of America’s finest and best trained tools of war, he saw himself in every face. Honed and hardened by years of sacrifice few in the world are even aware of, and no one other than a fellow member of this elite fraternity could ever understand, these men were soldiers in the truest and most fundamental sense of the word. Every one of them knew that their job meant the possibility of exactly what was going to happen to Rusty. His body will be sent back to the Unit. There it will be sanitized of any evidence regarding the exact nature of his death. After the