The old truck made a gurgling noise then began to slow. Mitchell brought up the tactical map in his HUD, studying the tortuous mountain road glowing green and leading up to the castle, marked with the requisite yellow square and the words Primary Objective.

They had come to a fork in the road, and the truck carrying Bravo Team, driven by the guy named Boy Scout, was veering right for the 1.7 kilometer trek to the transformer station.

"Ghost Lead, this is Beasley. We're heading up now. I'll contact you once we're set at the secondary objective."

"Roger that."

"Captain?"

Mitchell reached down to the cell phone with walkie talkie function that Buddha had given him. "Go ahead."

"Good news awaits on the road ahead."

"You getting philosophical, or do you know something we don't?"

"I have a little surprise."

"Really? Bring it on. Just hope it's a good one."

"I think you will be pleased."

"You hear that?" Mitchell called to the others. "He's got a surprise."

Diaz shook her head. "I hate surprises."

"Me, too," said Ramirez.

Mitchell nodded. "When we stop, everyone look sharp."

Sergeant First Class Bo Jenkins hadn't told the others about his father, and neither had the captain. That was fine by him. No sense in any of them doubting his abilities or feeling awkward around him. He was a professional and well understood the importance of keeping every emotion in check.

But sitting in the truck and waiting was dangerous. At any moment he would slip into the past, into a day out with his father as they cut wood for the fireplace, into a night when Dad had tried to explain why he and Mom were getting divorced.

Jenkins shuddered and glanced at all the charges they'd been preparing. C-4 for you, C-4 for me, C-4 for everybody--over fifty pounds in all. Buddha and his little buddy had supplied the materials; now it was up to Jenkins and Hume to call upon their old engineering training to create a glorious diversion, should the need arise.

The transformer station was located at the base of a curving row of foothills in a heavily wooded area at least a quarter kilometer from the nearest house. Their CIA driver, who was running with lights out and wearing a pair of night-vision goggles, parked them about a hundred meters south.

Jenkins's pulse rose. Time to rock 'n' roll.

Beasley and Brown leapt out first and charged off to secure the area. Jenkins and Hume loaded the bags with C-4, hoisted them onto their shoulders, and waited.

"Breakers on the left. Remember," said Hume.

"No problem."