Johnston checked Beaman’s jump computer against the jump profile. The success of these HALO (“high altitude, low opening”) jumps depended on far more than the jumper’s instincts. The idea was to exit the plane at high altitude but not to open the chute until the jumper was close to the ground. This lessened the chance that the jump might be detected by anyone on the ground, even if they were tracking the plane on radar. A proficient jumper could travel over a hundred miles horizontally as he fell. The jump computer combined the technology of a powerful chip with a miniature GPS receiver and an accurate altimeter. By following the directions on the tiny screen, Beaman would leave the Globemaster at forty-five thousand feet over Norway and open his chute at less than a thousand feet above the ground, a hundred miles away, over a small frozen pond on the Kola Peninsula in Russian territory.

As he finished his inspection, Johnston asked, “Ready for this, sir?”

Beaman smiled and clamped his helmet on. “Sure, Chief. Just a little stroll in the park. Let’s get everybody back in the bay.”

The seven black-clad figures followed the heavily dressed Air Force jumpmaster to the rear of the cavernous cargo bay. It was empty except for the team and their equipment packs. All the lights were out to allow them to adapt their vision to the pitch-black sky outside. The only illumination was from a few dimly lit red bulbs low on the deck.

The jumpmaster yelled, “Two minutes from the drop zone! Depressurizing the bay. Everyone on oxygen.”

As each man clamped on his breathing mask, supplied from a small bottle of oxygen strapped to his back, cabin pressure whistled down to the near vacuum of the outside. The huge rear cargo ramp rumbled down to reveal near total darkness. The sixty-below-zero air temperature chilled the SEALs, even through their specially constructed jumpsuits. At this altitude, it would be a real race to see which element would kill an unprotected jumper first, freezing to death from the bone-chilling cold or asphyxiation from the lack of air.

As the ramp rumbled down, a red light high up on the right side of the door flashed on. The jumpmaster held up one finger.

A minute to go.

Beaman cinched down again on his shoulder harness. He could feel more than see the presence of the rest of the team behind him.

The red light flashed out and a green one flashed on. Beaman strolled onto the ramp and took one long step off the back end. He dropped into the inky black void. The only sense of falling came when he saw the running lights of the Globemaster receding above and behind him as he tumbled away into nothingness.

Above him, the sky stretched out with a million stars. Below, a heavy layer of thick clouds, painted silver by the starlight, obscured the ground.