“Good hits! Good hits!” the JTAC exclaimed. “You’re cleared immediate reattack on the second truck, you’re cleared hot!”

Spectre picked up the second truck visually through his Night Vision Goggles. It was now speeding westbound towards the front of the convoy.

“Confirm the truck is moving to your position,” Spectre asked, trying to slow things down so as not to be too rushed and make a mistake.

“That’s affirm, he just... oh shit!” the reply was cut off. Spectre’s heart sank. He saw the glowing streak of something large and hot shooting from the truck in his FLIR. He knew it immediately. It was an RPG. He watched as the second HUMVEE in the convoy was rocked by the explosion and the infrared targeting pod image washed out from the heat of the blast.

The situation had gone from bad to worse. The radio was silent. He watched helplessly as the truck that had fired the RPG turned back away from the convoy to dig in and continue its assault. He was already risking it, but without a JTAC on the ground, he could not shoot.

“Help!” a scream came over the radio.

“Say again,” Spectre asked, hoping it was the JTAC.

“This is the MRAP commander, we are under heavy fire with several casualties, our JTAC is down, request Emergency CAS, my initials are Hotel Sierra!”

Unlike working with a qualified JTAC, Emergency Close Air Support was the most difficult CAS scenario to manage. It referred to a situation in which a fighter provided support with a ground controller who was not a qualified air controller. Someone with no prior training would be guiding bombs and bullets from fighters onto nearby targets. The rules of engagement allowed it, but only at the discretion of the operator in the air, and only in the direst of situations because of the risk of friendly fire.

He called the MRAP commander back. Time to go to work. He confirmed that no personnel or vehicles had moved from the highway. The second truck was still the target.

He picked up the second truck visually and rolled in just like the first time, establishing a 30-degree dive and putting the boresight cross on the truck.

“Thunder 42, in from the west,” he said, hoping his new controller would respond.

“Do it! Take them out!” the MRAP commander exclaimed.

He exhaled a bit. At least he had positive contact with someone. Once in range, he put the pipper on the truck and squeezed the trigger for two seconds. The bullets spat from the trusty 20mm just has they had done before until the gun was empty

Just as he began his recovery from the attack, he heard “Abort, abort, abort!” It was the call reserved for discontinuing the attack.

His heart sank.

CHAPTER ONE

Homestead, FL

Present Day

Victor Alvarez stood alone in the grass parking lot. It was still dark out, but the horizon glowed orange in the distance as the sun began its upward trek. He hated morning, especially South Florida mornings. The air was almost completely saturated with moisture, and although it was almost fall, it was still eighty degrees.