“Storm’s too bad to transport civvies, especially down the ladders, so we’ll bunk here tonight,” Ding said. “Midas, grab your tac light and head out to the platform and signal the Norwegians that our comms are down, and that we’re bunking here tonight with four surviving hostages. Ask them to come back when the storm breaks.”

“Roger that,” Midas said. “What else do you need from me?”

“I hate not having comms. See if you can find the jammer these assholes deployed. And check to see if the rig has some kind of communications unit.”

“On it,” Midas said. He turned on his heel and headed for the exit door.

“Adara, you head back to the hostages and do what you can for them to make them comfortable. Like Jack said, keep them locked in until we give the all-clear. Apprise them of the situation, that they’re safe and that we can’t leave the platform until the storm passes, probably tomorrow morning. You need anything else from us?”

Adara tapped her med kit. “I’m good to go.” She headed for the door near Dom, still seated, lightly brushing his broad shoulder with her hand as she passed, hoping no one else caught the gesture.

“Dom, when you’re up to speed, I want you to secure that C-4. Grab one of us if you need help.”

Dom stood, grimacing. “I’m on my way.” He stretched out some kinks as he headed for the drilling room.

“Jack, you and I will do the booby-trap search first and clear those. Then we’ll search the Green Army people for pocket litter and any other intel we can find on them, then grab fingerprints and DNA samples for the Langley crew to sort out and catalog.”

“And then we toss ’em?”

Ding nodded. “They’re chum, as far as I’m concerned. It’s not like this is a crime scene that needs to get processed.” In Ding’s mind, what The Campus did here tonight was righteous. It just wasn’t entirely legal. They had to cover their tracks.

Jack’s father, an ex-Marine, had instilled in him a deep respect for the honored fallen, but in this case he couldn’t agree more with Ding. The terrorists had almost killed him and his team. These were cold-blooded fanatics who butchered innocent civilians. They’d lost the right to be treated with respect, either in life or in death.

“You good?” Ding asked. He laid a hand on the taller man’s arm. Jack nodded, his mind elsewhere.

“Yeah, just processing.”

“Nothing else?”

Jack couldn’t lie to Ding. He respected him too much for that. “Can’t help but feel I screwed up tonight.”

“I get it. We’ll talk later. For now, we’ve got work to do.”

“Roger that.”

—