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Chapters (39)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Page
  3. Acknowledgements
  4. Epigraph
  5. ONE
  6. TWO
  7. THREE
  8. FOUR
  9. FIVE
  10. SIX
  11. SEVEN
  12. EIGHT
  13. NINE
  14. TEN
  15. ELEVEN
  16. TWELVE
  17. THIRTEEN
  18. FOURTEEN
  19. FIFTEEN
  20. SIXTEEN
  21. SEVENTEEN
  22. EIGHTEEN
  23. NINETEEN
  24. TWENTY
  25. TWENTY-ONE
  26. TWENTY-TWO
  27. TWENTY-THREE
  28. TWENTY-FOUR
  29. TWENTY-FIVE
  30. TWENTY-SIX
  31. TWENTY-SEVEN
  32. TWENTY-EIGHT
  33. TWENTY-NINE
  34. THIRTY
  35. THIRTY-ONE
  36. THIRTY-TWO
  37. THIRTY-THREE
  38. THIRTY-FOUR
  39. THIRTY-FIVE

"Get them back," Mitchell ordered the others. "Back behind the rocks." Then he called to the pilot. "Black Hawk Two-Niner. Zone's too hot! Pull out. We'll need more support, over."

"Sorry, Captain. None available. We're all you got. And we didn't come all this way to leave you behind."

TWELVE

TWELVE

NORTHWEST WAZIRISTAN
AFGHANISTAN-PAKISTAN BORDER
JANUARY 2009

The MH-60K Black Hawk was the Special Forces variant of the army's front-line utility helicopter and designed to take ODA and Ghost teams on long-range missions deep into enemy territory. In order to do that, a pair of 230-gallon external fuel tanks had been mounted on either side of the fuselage, beneath the rotor, and at the moment, Mitchell watched as those tanks were being targeted by the insurgents below.

With the awe-inspiring grace of its namesake bird, the pilot throttled up the pair of General Electric engines and banked hard out of the line of fire. He made a complete circle then dove, bringing his chopper to bear on the targets below. The pair of M134 7.62 mm mini-guns mounted in the crew doors wailed and stitched blazing, tracer-lit paths through the snow as the Taliban fighters dove for cover.

Those gunners continued putting serious steel on target, but one carefully aimed rocket-propelled grenade from the bad guys could end it all, as it had back on Basilan Island. Their pilot was taking one hell of a risk for Mitchell and his team.

"I don't believe this," cried Ramirez. "The zone can't be hot!"

"Bad intel," said Brown. "After all that. Bad intel."

"Ghost Lead, this is Black Hawk Two-Niner. I'm heading for a ridge just west your position, twenty meters. I'll hover there."

"Roger that, Two-Niner."

The Black Hawk came out of its dive and made a climbing turn to the south as the gunners broke fire.

All along the mountain trail ahead, muzzles winked, as though a long cord of short-circuiting wire had been stretched over the rocks and ice.

"Everyone, listen up," snapped Mitchell. "Those guys weren't waiting for us. They're on a rat line, coming back from A'stan. They were probably in the caves till now. We just got bad timing. Diaz, you and I help out those door gunners. Brown? You and Ramirez get 'em on board. Ready people? Here he comes!"

As the Black Hawk roared by, and a fresh wave of gunfire pinged off its fuselage, Mitchell craned his head and realized that Ramirez and Brown were taking the CIA agents. "No!" he cried, pointing at Rutang still strapped into the stretcher. "You get him first."

"Roger that," hollered Ramirez.

"That how it is, Captain?" shouted Agent Saenz. "You decide who lives and dies?"

Mitchell gave the man a look, then regarded Diaz. "Move out."

He sprang from cover and broke left, with Diaz right behind. They picked their way along a stretch of broken boulders and snow, then dropped behind a narrow spine of mottled rock, able to prop up on their forearms.