Once they finished the top floor, the other floors went more quickly. On the ground floor, Hal had to contend with massed Republican Guard soldiers, now with heavier machine guns and grenade launchers. The battle armor’s electric shock system took care of any close-in security he encountered; he had to fire one hypersonic projectile at the security booth just inside the front palace entry, where Republican Guards had set up a twenty-millimeter Gatling gun. One Tin Man had to jet-jump outside and retreat back to the roof after taking nearly two thousand rounds from the cannon before Briggs put it out of commission. Briggs left one Tin Man on the ground floor to watch for any heavy security responses, while the rest started down to the subfloors.

The entire search of the above-ground floors took them less than two minutes.

Now that the assault was on, they moved faster through the subfloors, following the location signal. They came across interrogation rooms, zapped anyone inside carrying weapons, and released all others. Chris Wohl found an infirmary, and next door was a makeshift autopsy room and morgue. “I found two of our guys in the morgue,” Chris radioed. “Looks like both of them have been tortured to death.” His voice started to tremble with rage. “I’m going to kill someone for this.” He zipped both corpses into then- black body bags and carried them to the roof.

“I found survivors,” another of the commandos reported. “I’m bringing them out.” Within minutes, eleven more Night Stalkers were on board the Pave Hammer tilt-rotor, all of them injured from torture and near-starvation but all still alive.

Briggs and two other commandos had just moved to the bottom subfloor when Briggs heard one of the lookouts say, “We’ve got trouble, One. Heavy armor on the way in. We’re engaging, but we’re running out of time.”

“We’ll be finished searching the building in three minutes,” Briggs responded.

“No good, sir,” Chris Wohl interjected. “We’re going to be surrounded in one minute. The Pave Hammer is too vulnerable. Make your way upstairs.”

“We can’t leave without Patrick and Wendy.”

“Sir, we’ll be walking out of Libya if we’re not airborne in sixty seconds.”

“Then get airborne.”

“Negative, sir. Everyone gets on board. I’ve stopped picking up life signs from the general.”

“That’s an order, Master Sergeant.” Briggs sent the last two commandos upstairs to get on the MV-22. ‘Two more on the way. I’m staying until I find the McLanahans.” Briggs hurried toward the source of the location signal—and he was horrified at what he found. There, a desktop was covered with blood—and moments later he found Patrick’s microtransceiver, tossed into a comer.

“I found the transceiver—minus the general,” Briggs reported solemnly. He did another sweep of the area—no sign of him. “I’m coming up.”