Safir left Behzad to tend to his animals and fields lower down in the valley and took the trail down the hillside that would lead him to the next village. He carried no radio, no phone or any other electronic devices the enemy might track, only his rifle and pistols. If anyone aroused suspicion or tried to get in his way, he would shoot first and ask questions later. After he moved to a secret location to oversee the coming operation, he would return to Behzad’s house and celebrate a much-needed victory in this fight.

****

In the briefing room Liam leaned back in his chair and fought a jaw-cracking yawn as the colonel reviewed the upcoming mission. Liam was flight lead for the mission. He and one other Chinook crew would fly teams of ST6 and Rangers from Bagram to a valley high in the eastern mountains of the tribal region.

After inserting them, they’d divert to Jalalabad where they would wait until they got the call for the exfil at a different LZ west of the insertion point. Enemy activity in the region had been increasing recently and chatter from the intelligence community warned that Taliban forces and their insurgent allies were planning a major attack in the coming days. The forecast called for clear skies, light winds and the moon was waning, a mere sliver in the sky tonight. Perfect conditions for a covert op deep in enemy territory.

During a lull in the briefing Liam flashed back to when he’d bumped into Honor a few hours ago. He hadn’t seen her in so long, running into her today had been one hell of a shock. He’d noticed immediately that she’d lost weight.

Her strawberry-blond hair was longer than it had been last time and there’d been shadows beneath her aquamarine eyes. The haunted, almost stricken look in them when he’d first seen her had knotted his guts. She’d tried to ask him about his injuries but he’d brushed her off because it was none of her business. He was no longer her concern. He’d moved on.

Or so he’d thought. The second he’d seen her, he’d experienced the entire avalanche of emotions all over again. Though mostly just anger and resentment now.

His co-pilot, Freeman, leaned over to murmur to him. “You hear that last bit about the DAPs?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You were off in space, man.”

He’d only caught part of it, but it was enough. The Direct Action Penetrators were Black Hawks essentially modified into badass gunships. They’d only be able to escort the Chinooks two-thirds of the way to the drop zone due to the target’s high altitude. A fairly common occurrence here, which was why Chinooks were used for these types of missions anyway. Not only were they big enough to transport a large number of personnel and equipment, the sheer lift capacity of its engines and dual rotors allowed them to fly at higher altitudes than the other helos. Maybe they weren’t the prettiest birds, but they got the job done.

“Business as usual,” Yates, his FE muttered under his breath on Liam’s other side.

Liam wasn’t worried. If everything went according to plan they’d only be without the DAPs for fifteen, twenty minutes tops and the relative darkness would provide an added measure of camouflage for them during the time when they were most vulnerable to enemy fire.

He shifted his weight and stretched his left leg out, the constant ache in the back of his thigh and hip easing from an annoying five down to a two on his personal pain scale. While he’d first been recovering the nerve pain had gotten upwards of an eight for a few days. If not for the pain meds he’d taken as a last resort to maintain his sanity, he might have resorted to biting down on a stick to cope with it.

There were still pieces of shrapnel in him from where those rounds had torn through the chin of the aircraft that day. Two nurses down in Kandahar had spent the better part of forty minutes pulling bits of metal from his skin and muscle before sewing the multiple lacerations up. The tiny bits they’d been unable to get to eventually worked their way through his skin. Seemed like he pulled little slivers out of his leg at least once a week.

He’d been lucky it hadn’t been worse than soft tissue and cutaneous nerve injury. No broken bones, no major blood vessels affected or spinal damage. Command had given him a few days off to heal up and he’d been able to go right back into the fight without any rehab. The docs had him doing extra leg workouts at the gym four times a week to keep his quads, hamstrings and glutes strong in an effort to counteract the injuries. He was strong and healthy except for the slight limp he’d probably have the rest of his life. Small price to pay compared to a lot of guys Liam knew.

The colonel turned the briefing over to the ops guys and Liam made notes about the exact route he’d fly, the various waypoints and vectors and altitudes ops would expect him to hit. He could change them at his discretion if a situation warranting it arose but he’d stick to the plan as much as possible. Once the various crews had their assignments, call signs and radio frequencies, the colonel took questions. There weren’t any, so everyone was dismissed.

Liam, Freeman and Yates walked out to the Spec Ops area of the airfield to meet with their two crew chiefs, who’d already been out inspecting the aircraft, checking fuel levels, the rotors, engines, avionics and other systems. “Anything to report?” Liam asked Grady, the youngest member of the crew, just twenty-two years old.

He slid his shades up higher on the bridge of his nose to help block the glare of the bright sunshine overhead. “No, sir. She’s good to go.”

Liam and Freeman gave them the intel on the upcoming flight, then left Yates while they reviewed the rest of their checklist. Freeman paused when Liam didn’t follow him past the hangar toward their barracks in their secure compound. “Where you headed?”

“Gonna go file our flight plan now. You go ahead, I’ll catch a nap when I’m done.” He preferred to fly more rested than he currently was.

“Okay. See ya later.”

Alone, Liam walked over to the ops center to file his initial paperwork. He completed his flight plan and listed the names of the crewmembers scheduled to be on board with him. He stepped outside onto the tarmac, and froze when the faint but unmistakable crack of automatic gunfire came from the eastern perimeter.

He stood outside the door along with several others, everyone’s gaze fixed on the eastern fence line. Security Forces personnel were already rushing into position to engage the shooters, somewhere out of Liam’s view. His hand automatically dropped to the holster on his right thigh, drawing his Beretta. His M4 was back in his barracks but he never went anywhere on base without at least his sidearm.

The volume of fire suddenly increased sharply. Liam glanced to the north just as something exploded on the far end of the tarmac. The ground shook beneath his feet as a good-sized fireball erupted into the air.

RPG. “Take cover!” he yelled.

Men scrambled all around him, looking for a place to hide. Liam ducked behind a Humvee parked close to the ops center entrance and got on one knee, weapon raised in case a close enough target appeared. Another explosion detonated to the north, closer this time.

Sirens began to wail around the base. More gunfire, getting closer now. Peering around the bumper of the vehicle he saw five men wearing black tunics and turbans storming the northern fence line, armed with rifles and at least one RPG. A suicidal and ultimately futile attack that would see them dead long before they got to the fence.

He’d no sooner thought it than another rocket slammed into the tarmac about forty yards to the left of his position. The blast hit the tarmac and back of a Pave Hawk, destroying its tail rotor. Seconds later another rocket impacted beside it, hitting one of SOAR’s birds.