Chapters (39)
- Title Page
- Copyright Page
- Acknowledgements
- Epigraph
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
Phillips, who'd slipped off to their right to take out the dead man's partner, called to say his guy was down, but his transmission broke off at the sound of gunfire.
"Phillips?"
He didn't answer. A hollow pang seized Tanner's gut. He cursed and bolted toward his partner's position.
FISHING BOAT
XIAMEN HARBOR, CHINA
APRIL 2012
They had just finished hauling Ramirez into the boat when Mitchell grabbed him and threw himself and the assistant team leader back over the side.
He wrapped an arm under Ramirez's chin and swam as hard as he could until the horrible sound of the chopper's rotors slashing through the fishing boat made him cry, "Joey, hold your breath!"
Mitchell dragged them underwater as a fireball swept over the water and lit up the waves with a surreal, flickering light, as though he were staring at a fireplace through warped glass.
For a moment, time slowed, and nearly all of Mitchell's senses shut down, but then the muffled cries of his Ghosts and the reverberating chomp, chomp of the rotors as they snapped off wrenched him back to reality and drove him to paddle deeper.
His thoughts reached out to the others, to what would happen to them now as his legs burned with exertion and his wounded arm twinged.
Ramirez began to struggle. He could no longer hold his breath, and Mitchell turned and kicked harder, heading back up.
They broke the surface just a few meters outside a large pool of burning fuel that had leaked from the chopper and boat as both had begun to sink.
Mitchell's earpiece/monocle was still attached to his head, and although the device was waterproof, he only got static.
He spotted Diaz treading water off to his right. "Alicia?"
"I'm all right," she answered. "I see Marcus, John, and Alex. They're okay."
Something thumped into Mitchell's head. He shifted around, saw Boy Scout's body floating facedown. Just a few meters off lay Buddha, faceup.
Mitchell wanted to shake his fists at the universe. They'd been so damned close--and now the ultimate failure. Operation War Wraith would be pinned on the United States because he and his Ghosts had failed to exfiltrate. They would be captured, tortured, paraded in front of the media, then spend the rest of their lives rotting away in a Chinese prison. It was hard to suppress those thoughts while floating in the harbor beside a pool of fire.
Beasley and Smith kicked toward him, clinging to a long piece of the fishing boat's hull. Beasley grabbed Ramirez, who was still conscious but barely moving, and pulled him up, onto the wood.
"Got nothing on the Cross-Com," Mitchell told them.
"Me neither," said Beasley.
SAND SPIT PIER
XIAMEN HARBOR, CHINA
APRIL 2012
Tanner returned fire, nicking the corner of a tree trunk. One of the sailors behind the tree kept rolling out and firing, while the other was on the ground, wailing over his wounded thigh.