PAKISTAN

Operation “Inside Man”

September 4, 2001

18:01 GMT+5

Signatory C/O: ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮

 

“Roger, Command. Mission I and D confirmed… Delta Juliett Victor Six Echo Kilo Alfa.”

“Sky-One to Command, we have a lights-off flag for mission window. Please advise.”

“Affirmative, Sky-One. This mission is lights-off.”

“Roger, Command. Lights-off order confirmed. Commencing satellite repositioning. Sky Team is blind in… Three. Two. One. Lights out.”

“Roger, Sky-One. Lights-off confirmed. Command to Transport-One, we are go.”

“Roger, Command. Initiating Ground Team transfer to active theatre. Commencing brane folding. Brane collapse complete. Gate integrity check is… all green.”

“Roger, Transport-One. Ground-One, your team is clear for transfer. Time to play, kids.”

Jax stepped through the portal into the muggy dark. He dragged his fingers along the pits and bumps of the damp wall, feeling the shape of the rock. A few feet ahead, Atlas led the way toward the mouth of the small cave. Jax could feel the other six bodies trailing behind him.

He took in everything. Black air thick with moisture and sound. Soft scuffs from combat boots on stone. Sharp clicks of metal on metal.

They turned right along with the wall and Jax blinked at the glare from the tunnel opening, eclipsed by the silhouette of Atlas crouching down to clear the low ceiling and step outside. Jax did the same and drew a black combat knife from his vest.

Amber.

Red.

Sleepy trees held their last leaves up against the watercolor sunset like dying stars, ready to join their siblings on the forest floor. Atlas broke the silence.

“Site check.”                   

Eight bodies clad in black fanned out in a wide semicircle amidst the trees and bushes. Everyone wore identical military-issue gear—helmet, kevlar, backpack, camo jacket and pants, boots. Most had multiple knives attached to their vests, arms, and legs. A few had a pistol on their hip.

A hot breeze shuffled through the branches and scattered dead leaves along the ground. Jax looked for the slightest movement or unnatural shape in the forest. He felt the crackle of leaves and twigs under his feet.

“Watch for traps. The debris around here is perfect cover.”

On his right, Six squinted at Jax with her deep green eyes masked by chocolate eyelids.

“No shit, Mom.”

Jax felt a familiar sensation—pins and needles—wash over his ears. Farthest to his left, he eyed the slender frame of their smallest soldier, Ember. Eyes shut tight, she whispered old words, paused for effect, then looked right at Jax with a big grin.

“No traps here!”

Jax sheathed the knife in his hand and gave a weak smile.

“Thanks, Ember.”

Next to Ember, Reaper glanced back and forth between them and rolled his eyes, shaking his head.

“Have something to say, Eta?” Jax didn’t particularly enjoy pulling rank, but Reaper needed a short leash.

“Nope.”

A bulky teenager stepped between them.

“Stay focused, guys.”

All eyes fell on Atlas. At sixteen, he was the oldest and strongest of the eight. Atlas was everything an Alpha needed to be. Witty. Confident. Protective. Most of all, dangerous. He had an eternal smile that said he knew something you didn’t.

“Gear check and surveillance. Go.”

Atlas’ word was law, and Jax made that law reality. A Beta’s job was to make the details happen, and Jax was good at it. He looked at the boy on Reaper’s right, a bit taller than Ember.

“Mock, you and Reaper are on errand duty.”

“Got it.”

Mock tapped Reaper on the shoulder and jerked his head to the south, where the Transport Team marked the dead drop site during the mission brief.

 

POOF.

 

The leaves at their feet exploded in huge brown balls. The two were gone. Jax groaned inside. Where they used to be, four deep grooves split the ground from when they kicked the dirt.

Dammit. Seriously? They’d been there two minutes and they were already leaving evidence everywhere. This shit was why Bentley was constantly breathing down their necks to clock more combat time. Jax decided to chew them out when they got back to base.

Six must have heard Jax sigh. She patted him twice on the shoulder, then walked over and stomped the grooves down with her boots. Jax left it to Six. She and Ember could cover tracks better than anyone else anyway.

“Rayleigh. You have the bounding rods?”

“Uh-huh!” Only eleven years old, Rayleigh was the youngest and newest member of the pack. Has it really been three months? “Got ‘em right here!” The boy pulled them out of a vest pocket and waved them proudly. The sunset made his freckles glow against his vampire-white face.

“Well, then pass them out.”

“Oh—right, right.”

The skinny boy kept one rod for himself, then passed both Six and Ember a chrome stake about one foot long. The only distinguishing feature on them was a red triangle printed on the flat top of each stake.

“Did you three review the terrain with the Transport Team?”

Six, Ember, and Rayleigh nodded.

“Good. Six has Bounding Point A, Ember takes B, and Rayleigh gets Point C ‘cause it’s the closest and it’s his first mission on-the-books.”

Tap-tap.

Six slapped the top of Rayleigh’s helmet. “Nice to be the new kid.”

Jax turned and stared hard at Rayleigh. “Make sure the stake is all the way in the ground. The top part should be flush with the dirt. And don’t forget to cover your tracks like Ember showed you.”

“Yessir.”

“Let’s get some eyes on our target. Get going.”

 

POOF.

 

The three burst off in alternate directions, fast enough to blow leaves all around them, yet slow enough to not leave any marks.

Thank you.

Only Liar left. The only one here who could actually be considered “tall,” Liar moseyed over and tossed his supply pack on the ground. Liar wasn’t a fan of eye contact. If you actually did lock eyes with him, it was clear he was not looking at you. Liar’s favorite extracurricular activity was fucking off. Six called it “resting ditch face.”

Jax lobbed his pack on top of Liar’s.

“Gear check. You’re first.”

He’d do it all himself and save the trouble of dealing with Liar, but gear checks required two people, and the higher ranking member had to check last.

Liar squatted and unzipped the first bag as Jax walked to a small boulder hosting Atlas, lost in thought. He was still, save for the fluttering of a throwing dagger between the fingers of his left hand.

He’s not usually this serious.

“Atlas.” Ice water eyes fixed on Jax, waiting. “Gear check. I need your pack.”

Atlas unfroze. “Right. Sure.” The throwing blade disappeared into the sky while Atlas stood up and took off his pack, then tossed it over to land next to the others. “Alright. Let’s kill some strangers.” He winked and bumped fists with Jax.

Jax could feel the dagger make a slow arc high above them, then slip down toward a rock ten feet away. Before it landed, a second blade collided with the first. They both spun grip-sides-down and bounced gently off the rock, cutting lazy arcs back into Atlas’ fingers. Their fearless leader faced the forest, his back to the pile of supplies, hands still playing with sharp objects.

Liar was nearly done checking the first three packs, so Jax squatted down next to him and rifled through Liar’s pack first.

In Jax’s right ear, Atlas buzzed through the comm link embedded in his ear canal. “Okay, kids. You done with your chores yet? Mock, did our present from the CIA arrive in good condition?”

“Yup. ETA sixty seconds.”

“Recon? Status.”

Six was talking to herself on the other end. “And… done. Point A ready. Heading back now.”

“Point B is operational,” Ember droned.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Atlas frowned. “Rayleigh? What’s happening, kid?”

“Oh. Uh. It’s… coming along.”

“Is there a problem?”

“No, I’m… just trying… trying to get the rod aligned—

“Stick the damn thing in the ground and get back here,” Jax interrupted.

“Yessir!”

Jax couldn’t help but roll his eyes before looking back inside the bag.

“…Point C ready… ETA forty seconds.”

One bag down. Jax zipped up Liar’s pack and grabbed the next one.

Atlas took a deep breath. “Alright, speech time. Let’s do this one clean and quick, okay? If we land high scores tonight, I can finally get Bentley off my ass about taking more missions. We already heard the brief, but just to make sure we’re all on the same page, I’ll take it from the top…

“Our extraction target is one Bertrand Mayfair. He’s UK born, but spent the better part of the last decade brokering intelligence to the Brits and the States. He uses his own privately recruited assets and then sells whatever pops up to the highest bidder in the West—usually us. Whether it’s to keep his conscience clean or just likes the convenient cover, Bert spends his blood money on being the patron saint of a free school for orphans.”

“Wow. A true role model for this generation,” chimed Six.

“Truly. Said school is located at the foot of this this valley, by the edge of the forest all around us.”

Three bags checked.

 

POOF. POOF.

 

Mock and Reaper. They set down three ragged duffel bags, then threw their own backpacks to Liar.

 

POOF.

 

Six. She did the same and lobbed her pack at Jax.

Atlas continued, “The Powers-That-Be say this guy’s got intel we simply must have—or else! Apparently some local militant group wants it too. I didn’t bother remembering their name because I don’t give two shits. Anyway. Yesterday morning, our new enemies checked into the Mayfair hotel until he gives them this all-so-important intelligence. We’ve got a VIP hostage, possibly a few dozen kids as hostages, unless they killed them already. Oh. I forgot there are probably school staff there too.”

Six bags checked.

 

POOF.

 

Ember walked over and handed her bag to Liar.

“Our job is to recover all intelligence and extract Mayfair—prioritized in that order. Since the CIA believes this intelligence is must-have, they decided to shove it on us. So here we are.”

 

POOF.

 

Rayleigh, finally. Forty seconds, my ass.

Jax finished Ember’s bag and waited for Liar to finish the last one.

“This mission is on-the-books. No fun stuff. If it will leave evidence or might be noticed by anyone not in this Pack, it is forbidden. I’m talking to you, Rayleigh. Don’t get flustered and start showing off.”

“Right! Got it. I will not show off.”

Atlas had that knowing smile.

“I’m sure you won’t. Let’s see those guns.”

They all gathered around the duffel bags and Reaper opened them up. Dusty AK-47s. Ammunition magazines. Grenades.

“What’s with this old junk?” asked Rayleigh.

Jax sighed. Mock looked up and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. Reaper just glared at Rayleigh. Ember saved them all the trouble.

“Uh, Rayleigh? We’re using older guns so we won’t be leaving any evidence that the United States was here if, say… a firefight breaks out. Or we’re spotted by a third party. Or we’re forced to leave behind our weapons for some reason. The CIA probably thought we would actually use these, but it can’t be helped since they don’t know anything about the Program.”

Rayleigh had his hands in his pockets and stared at his toes, clearly embarrassed.

“…Thanks.”

Jax and Liar finished checking the bargain bin weapons for anything that would make them malfunction, then handed out rifles and grenades to everyone.

Six stepped out of the circle and pulled out what looked like a miniature briefcase fashioned from carbon fiber.

Click.

Snap.

Slap.

Six twisted her custom-built rifle, produced a long magazine of hand-crafted bullet cartridges, and popped it in the slot underneath the barrel. The grin on her face as she looked down the huge scope prophesied how much Six relished pulling that trigger.

The remaining weapons were chucked into the cave, since it fit the evidence narrative for the mission objectives. It took a moment for everyone to put on their gear and adjust to their preferences.

 

Ruffle.

Flap.

Fwooo.

 

Atlas laid out a wide square of linen canvas onto the ground, and the group circled around it. Jax stood in the back, arms crossed.

Rayleigh passed Atlas three small spikes, miniature versions of the bounding rods. All three stabbed the canvas in an equilateral triangle with the twitch of his fingers.

He knelt down and held a dark crimson, old-style fountain pen a few inches above the surface.

Flick-flick.

A drop of midnight struck the canvas. Next, he pushed his thumb into the ink, leaving a black fingerprint. The ink stretched out, crawling through the fibers a living facsimile of the valley, each detail a breathing, moving part of the birds-eye tapestry on the canvas. It pulled-pushed at the boundary of the triangle formed by the bounding spikes. Triangles drawn on the flat top of each spike produced a soft crimson glow.

Tick.

Atlas turned the paperclip portion of the pen. Here and there, various small shapes turned red, indicating living things. He pointed to an area near one of the borders of the triangle, drawing a circle around a cluster of eight red dots.

“This is us.”

He pointed toward the middle of the triangle, at a much larger cluster of red dots.

“This is the school.”

He drew a wide circle around the school and the image zoomed in with pristine detail. The school compound, just clear of the forest border, consisted of two long rectangular buildings near a smaller square building. An even smaller square sat a bit further away than the other three. What looked like a soccer field was painted on a patch of grass a good distance from the four buildings. Four pickup trucks were parked in the dirt between the three buildings and the smaller one.

Mock pulled out a protein bar and tore it open with his teeth. Reaper elbowed him and Mock gave him one too.

Ember sat down across from Atlas and pointed at the rectangles.

“I passed the compound on my way back from Point C. These two are probably the dorms, separated for boys and girls. This is the school building, with a room for eating and a classroom inside.”

The red blobs were visible even from inside the buildings, making it easy to assess the situation.

“We’ve got forty-three bodies in the compound, and no humans beyond us for ten miles.”

Atlas pointed at the school building.

“Looks like we’ve got… five, ten, twenty-three kids huddled in the cafeteria. These seven sitting over here must be hostiles. The three outside are guarding the entrances, so they’re baddies too.”

Tick.

Smooth shades of color bloomed from the canvas, indicating heat. One more blob appeared in the cafeteria, lying down.

“Looks like they killed someone, probably a teacher.”

“Very motivational.” Reaper was chewing loudly like he was trying to annoy everyone.

Tick.

The colors drained away, leaving the red shapes behind.

“Okay, then the two adults huddled here in the far dormitory must be teachers or staff as well.”

“Smart,” mumbled Liar.

“I agree. Three guards for two adults means they know what they’re doing. We need to be smart too.”

Atlas pointed at the house. “And our princess in his castle, everybody. These four must be interrogating Mayfair in this room. Looks like the shit’s already been beaten out of him.”

“That’s a lot of blood.” Mock whistled.

Liar shook his head. “He’ll live. At least another five hours.”

Atlas went on, “Intelligence material is top priority, so we can’t let this get messy. It’d be a shame if someone stepped on or shot a hole in something important.” He looked at Six and raised his brows.

“Oh, fuck off. That was two years ago!”

They all laughed.

Above the horizon, Jax watched the last tinges of pink wisps of vapor lose their light.

“Right. Assignments. Liar and Reaper are with me. We’ll enter the house through the back and grab our VIP. Jax, take Mock and remove any players with line-of-sight of the house. Rayleigh, I need you to disable all the vehicles without being seen. Six is on overwatch per usual. Ember, hang back a bit in case we need a free agent or anyone tries to exit the stage early. I know all this is probably overkill, but if we slack off now then we’ll slip up when it matters. We good?”

Everyone nodded.

Rayleigh folded up the canvas and put away everything while everyone else stretched. A crinkle squeaked under Jax’s boot as he turned away. A candy bar wrapper.

I fucking swear. Mock was due for a beating in the near future.

He put it in a pouch on the side of his backpack. At least it was soundproof. The small comforts were some of the empty blessings of this life.

Alright. Break’s over. “Show time! Let’s GO!”

They formed a tight semicircle and stepped in the forest, knives drawn. Six and Ember melted in the darkness as the last light died.

Atlas whispered in the comm link.

“Feather steps, guys. I don’t want to hear even a twig snap before we get there, got it? And if I hear a single gunshot tonight, you owe me a soda.”

“But the sodas are free…”

“Shut the fuck up, Rayleigh.”

“Reaper owes me a soda for being a dick.”

“Tsk.”

Concentrating, Jax adjusted his eyes to the dark, letting in the infrared light all around him.

He felt his body. Every joint. Willed them to glide. Smoother, softer.

His body flowed like water over the ground. His boots firmly crushed the forest floor, but refused to make a sound, no matter how fast he ran. He sped up, slowly. Jax soon outpaced a car, a spectre knifing through the woods.