The order for the raid to help rescue the Special Forces soldiers in Colombia was greeted by the Special Ops men with enthusiasm and professionalism. The original team had come from this ship and they had friends among the missing men.

As the Roosevelt turned its bow to the south, they began making their plans, even though the supporting role they were to play puzzled them. If they were to be second fiddle, who was to do the actual assault?

“Eat it,” Sergeant Lambier told Granger. The wounded man was staring at the tin plate of unrecognizable slop a guard had just shoved in the cell.

“Why?” Granger asked. “So I can puke just before they shoot me?”

“Because we don’t know how long we’re going to be here,” Lambier said.

The other two men made no move to grab their plates either. Lambier picked up his and began shoveling the food into his mouth, swallowing as quickly as he could to avoid tasting it. When he was halfway through, the others began doing the same.

15

Captain Lonsky was actually not overly surprised the Gagarin had been sold. The previous year, Moscow had rented it out to an American movie company making a science fiction film, and before and after that they had done monitoring missions for other countries and corporations when the price was right. Lonsky had been a crew member aboard the ship during the Cold War and remembered how they had always been shadowed by American submarines, planes, and ships doing counterintelligence missions against them. Things were very different now. For all he knew, the Americans were the buyers.

“A message from our new owners,” Zenata said, holding several sheets of paper in her hand.

Captain Lonsky took the message and read through. He turned to the bridge crew and barked out orders. “Shut down the thrusters. Orient dishes horizontal for minimum wind resistance. Our new heading will be three zero zero degrees, at flank speed.”

As the crew did as commanded, he reread the next to last sheet. “Do you think this is serious?”

Zenata shrugged. “Whoever sent this bought the ship, which even Moscow would not sell cheaply. I would assume they are serious about the money. It is probably cheaper than training their own crew.”

Lonsky picked up the mike. He switched the intercom so that he could broadcast to the entire crew. “Ladies and gentlemen, as you are now aware, the ship has been sold to someone, whose name we do not know. However, we have received a communiqué from them with a job offer for each of us to stay on for another month of work, remaining in our assigned jobs on board ship. The terms of the deal are simple. A bonus of one hundred thousand dollars American for each member of the crew for that one month. Paid in cash. If anyone does not want to stay on board, please notify me immediately.” He clicked off the mike and waited. As expected, the message board remained unlit.

Zenata had a last sheet, which she gave to him.

Lonsky read it. It detailed specific instructions. “Can you do this?” he asked Zenata.

“It is simply preparing our master computer for interface with another computer,” she said. “It is not very difficult. But I wonder why someone would want us to do that.”

“Any clue who bought us?”

Zenata shook her head. “This message came from a commercial satellite. It could have originated anywhere. It does have the proper authorization code word,” she added unnecessarily.

“Do what they want,” Lonsky ordered.

“Where are we headed?” Zenata asked.

“The Lesser Antilles. Saba, to be specific.”

“ Saba?”

“A small island with no harbor.”

Zenata hadn’t left yet. “And what do you think they want us to do when we get there?”

“That is a very interesting question to which I do not have a clue.”

Dalton watched the team appear on the virtual plane above the Mount of the Holy Cross. Jackson was above him, formed in her eagle avatar, Barnes to his right. Kirtley had seven men with him, lined up like a row of ghostly images behind him. Dalton noted that Kirtley’s avatar was larger and stronger looking than the man appeared in real life.

“First jump point,” Kirtley ordered.

Jackson was gone before he even finished the sentence. Dalton visualized the spot, and then he was there. Barnes appeared. Then one, two of Kirtley’s men. The rest straggled in, one by one.

“You need to appear on target at the same time,” Dalton pointed out.

“That’s why we’re practicing,” Kirtley responded shortly. “Dr. Hammond, project an image of our target.”

In the center of the group, a scaled version of a special range at Fort Campbell, Kentucky, appeared. Dalton had been there before, in the real world, when his team had gone for urban operations training. The range was an example of a village in Germany, complete with buildings, town square, sewer system, and roads. Kirtley had had the range personnel put automatic targets in, then clear the area.

“Our objective is here.” Kirtley pointed at a large building facing the small square. “It’s as close as we can come to simulating the villa.” He looked at Dalton. “Time for you to go there. I don’t think it would be quite fair if you heard our assault plans.”

“Roger that,” Dalton said. “Dr. Hammond, I want a private link that only Jackson and Barnes can hear.”

“You’ve got it,” Hammond informed him. “I’m also blocking the team’s communications from you.”

“Let’s go,” Dalton said. He jumped and was above the building Kirtley had indicated as the main objective.

“What’s the plan?” Barnes asked.

“Let’s see what’s set up first,” Dalton said. He flowed through the roof of the building and descended to the basement. There were targets set up to indicate guards and several dummies placed on the floor to simulate the prisoners. It was the best that could be done on such short notice.

“Barnes, you’ve got this building. Shoot the hostages the minute the first avatar comes in here.”

“Roger that, Sergeant Major.”

“ Jackson, I want you to be our eye in the sky. Relay what you see to us.”

“I thought we were supposed to pretend to be people,” Jackson said.

“Rules are made to be broken,” Dalton said.

“And where will you be?” Barnes asked.

In reply, Dalton simply pointed down, then he vanished from site as he jumped.

Sailors watched as the Green Berets and SEALs test-fired their weapons off the deck of the Roosevelt , spewing lines of tracers into the ocean. Satisfied their weapons worked, the men began smearing camouflage paint on their faces, loading magazines, and sharpening knives. The air crews walked around their helicopters, making sure they were ready for flight. They all knew the members of ODA 054 who had launched from this very ship, and they had been shown the photograph of Captain Scott’s body. Rescue was the primary mission, but silently accepted among all the men was the desire for revenge.

The coast of Colombia was directly ahead of the bow of the carrier, a hundred miles over the horizon.

Valika had spent the entire flight on her cell phone and laptop, coordinating what she would need. She had operated in the United States many times before for Cesar, so she had had no trouble lining up the men and equipment to do the task-in a capitalistic society, money could indeed buy anything. She had already transferred over sixteen million dollars into various accounts and upon completion of the mission would transfer another fifteen million.

The small Aura projector sat across from her, hooked to the plane’s power. At this low level it generated a large enough field for Raisor to appear, floating across from her, listening in on her conversations. She had not needed his help or contacts. The rest of the passenger compartment of the Lear jet was empty.