“Sword, Variable—sitrep,” Ben said in his ear. “You have one tango still by the rear door, suggesting he may be a sentry. There are three tangos at the north end, the thermal silhouettes suggesting they may be sitting at a table. Fourth is midhangar moving about. No approaching vehicles on the access road that we can see.”

Jed answered with a double click.

They reached the first break in the trees and Jed peered across an open field at two derelict trailers, seemingly unoccupied on a trash-covered lot. He chopped a hand and the team sprinted across the lot to the next patch of cover. He moved the team through the thinning grove of trees between the trash field and the edge of the airport perimeter road until the target hangar was in sight. Jed raised a closed fist over his left shoulder and took a knee, feeling the rest of the team spreading out and doing the same.

He watched the rear sentry pacing back and forth by the door, a cigarette in between the fingers of his right hand. Not nervous—just bored.

And completely unprepared for what was about to come.

Jed watched their two Black Hawks conduct another touch-and-go on the field to his right, flaring and dropping onto the pavement, then rolling out down the runway and lifting off again. He could see Eli’s and Bex’s legs dangling out the port side door of Vandal Two, which was all part of the ruse.

The plan was to commence the assault when the helicopters came back on the final “training” landing. Jed had briefed the pilot on how much time they needed before they diverted over to the hangar, so Vandal flight would make the call. Vandal Two would drop the other four Shepherds on the ramp side of the hangar and both teams would converge and breach simultaneously.

It was a good plan, except for the fact they’d yet to confirm the people in the hangar were actual bad guys. The thought had been nagging him for a while, and with just minutes before bullets started flying, it would be really nice to get a positive Dark One confirmation from back home.

“Watcher, Sword One—anything at all on the tangos in the hangar?” Jed asked on the radio.

“No,” came a dejected reply. “I’m soooo sorry, Sword. I am really trying. We all are.”

“All good, Watcher,” he whispered.

But it wasn’t, was it? Why were they having such trouble?

“One minute,” the pilot of Vandal One announced in Jed’s Peltor headset.