She blinked hard and returned to her night-vision scope. He was still there, all right, and at any moment he would begin speaking into the microphone covering his mouth. As soon as he did, Diaz would tip off the captain that her man had just made his radio check.

USS MONTANA (SSN-823)
SOUTH TAIWAN STRAIT
SOUTH CHINA SEA
APRIL 2012

Captain Gummerson asked himself for the second time, What is Mitchell waiting for? He's got the lights out, rain coming in, and he has the location of his targets.

Gummerson stood under the control room's crimson lights, ears pricked up for the next message. Montana's electronic countermeasures (ECM), electronic intelligence (ELINT), and Sonar teams were probing a three-dimensional battle sphere--air, surface, and subsurface--for any hint of enemy counterdetection.

Meanwhile, the OE-538 multifunction masts that were Montana's "big ear" continued to track each Ghost while monitoring all exchanges between them. Total situational awareness via mutually shared information in a common tactical picture was the epitome of network-centric warfare.

"They move in yet?" asked the XO as he entered the control room.

Gummerson shook his head. "No. All Mitchell's done is step up to the plate."

The XO shrugged. "Sometimes you wait for your pitch."

Gummerson cocked a brow. "And sometimes you strike out looking."

UNITED STATES SPECIAL OPERATIONS COMMAND
MACDILL AIR FORCE BASE
TAMPA, FLORIDA
APRIL 2012

While it might be the wee hours in China, it was twelve hours earlier at USSOCOM, and General Joshua Keating strode past banks of screens displaying network data, from satellite intel all the way down to the camera mounted on Captain Scott Mitchell's earpiece.

At the moment, Keating couldn't understand why Mitchell was taking so much damned time to analyze the pictures captured by his portable drone.

Keating was, in fact, a few seconds away from getting on the horn and blasting Mitchell for his delay.

But he liked Mitchell. Wanted to trust him. Wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Dr. Gail Gorbatova of the DIA, who was seated beside one of her intelligence analysts, rose from the desk and approached him. "General, we are wondering--"

"About the delay," he finished, drawing in a deep breath through his teeth.

"Our colleagues at the CIA are wondering the same thing and have no explanations from their people. And we have our mole standing by."

"Excellent. Now we're still gathering intel, so if you would, Dr. Gorbatova, just have a seat."

Keating returned to his computer and keyed up the intel coming in from Mitchell's Ghost Team: grainy green pictures of the castle, the helicopters, the trucks, and even Diaz's point of view as she balanced her crosshairs over one of the two Chinese snipers. Everything looked perfect.

Come on, son. Give the order. Move out!

A voice echoed through the room: "Ghost Lead, this is Bravo Lead. Our targets will take cover from the rain any second now. Captain, we need to move now!"