He was about to fly into disputed territory, possible combat, and he was not telling her this. He shook his head. He hated this part. He was lying, not directly, but by omission, in the same way he hadn’t told her that he killed two men this morning.

She knew so little about what he did. Would she welcome a bloodstained killer back into her arms?

“Okay, sweetie,” she said. “You run. I’m glad you’re safe. I’m so happy to hear your voice. I hope they let you out of there tomorrow.”

“Me, too,” he said.

“I love you,” she said.

“I love you.”

After they hung up, he looked at Swann.

“What?”

Swann’s dopey grin faltered for a second. Was the man high? He could picture that easily. Swann looked exactly like someone who probably went out for smoke breaks, and smoked dope instead of a cigarette.

“They sent me to get you,” he said. “They’re ready for this mission to roll ASAP.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

5:50 p.m. Arabian Standard Time (10:50 a.m. Eastern Daylight Time)

The Hamad Desert

Western Iraq

They called it the Little Bird. Sometimes they called it the Flying Egg.

It was the MH-6 helicopter—fast and light, highly maneuverable, the kind of chopper that didn’t need room to land. It could come down on small rooftops, and on narrow roadways in crowded neighborhoods. It was the chopper most beloved by special operations forces. Luke and Ed rode in one out into the stark high desert of western Iraq.

The surreal, undulating desert landscape below them was orange-yellow with vast blackened, sunblasted regions. Parts of it looked like parking lot blacktop. The sky was pale blue, with the giant orange orb of the sun moving toward the horizon. It was an alien landscape. Hot winds blew in through the open bay doors.

Luke knew they were being followed by two Apache helicopter gunships—armored and armed to the teeth with thirty-millimeter miniguns and Hydra rockets. The Apaches were flying high above them, and well to the south. But they were outfitted with state of the art radar and ground video systems. They could see well enough.

Luke and Ed were not talking.

Ed’s bulk slouched beside him in the cramped compartment. They both wore flight suits and helmets. Luke wore a heavy tactical vest, as did Ed. The weight had settled onto Luke, making him feel as if gravity had doubled. His pants were lined with lightweight armor.

Luke was armed with his MP5 submachine gun and a Remington pump-action shotgun. He felt the heft of both guns. They were heavy. The weight was reassuring. The MP5 was loaded with armor-piercing rounds. If there were bad guys here, those rounds should punch through most body armor they could be wearing. Luke had half a dozen magazines fully loaded, just in case he needed them.