Point of Contact

The tip of the heavy black KA-BAR Tanto blade crashed into one of the ceramic-composite body-armor plates on Jack’s vest, dulling the blow. The blade slipped across the plate but didn’t penetrate. The force of the strike pushed him back a few inches, stunning him for a moment.

In a heartbeat, the blond terrorist drew back her arm to launch another knife thrust at Jack’s exposed face, but her neck exploded in a cloud of arterial spray as three muffled shots rang out, spattering hot blood on Jack’s skin. The blonde spun to the ground in a heap like a broken puppet.

Jack’s adrenaline-fueled brain slowed the action down to a crawl even as his reflexes accelerated. His eye caught the brunette falling to the deck at the same time as her comrade, two red stains flowering on her chest, pistol clattering to the steel deck.

Adara dashed over to Jack, the barrel of her MPX still smoking. She ripped the balaclava off her head to get a better view. Her short blond hair was matted with sweat. She touched his chest where the knife had struck. The fabric was torn, exposing the ceramic plate. “You hurt?”

“No — check Dom.” Jack feared the worst. His cousin was one of his best friends.

But Adara hadn’t waited for Jack’s suggestion, and at “No” she sped over to Dom, seated on the floor and leaning against the corrugated wall. Ding had already yanked open Dom’s armor vest when Adara pushed him aside and dropped to her knees. The former combat Navy corpsman had patched up wounded Marines in Afghanistan. She’d seen the worst and expected more of the same as she reached for Dom’s wound, but she knew she could deal with it.

“Damn! That hurt!” Dom said through gritted teeth.

Adara examined his left pectoral where the slug hit. A huge red welt the shape of the armor plate that saved his life was forming on his skin. “That’s gonna bruise ugly, but you’ll live, cowboy.” Adara fought back a flood of emotion. On the combat field they were teammates, not lovers. She pushed it all back inside for later. There was still a job to do. She stood.

“Anybody hurt?” Adara asked.

“I think we’re all good,” Ding said. The shortest man in the room spoke with the authority of a trusted leader. Years of service in the infantry, Rainbow, and the CIA had earned him the hard-won respect of everybody at The Campus, especially John Clark.

Midas nodded at the dead blonde on the deck, a nearly headless corpse. “I think she’s gonna need a Band-Aid.”

“Good shot, by the way. You saved my life,” Jack said.

“I was aiming for her head. But you’re welcome,” Midas said, clapping Jack on the shoulder as he loaded a wad of chaw in his bearded jaw. Adara had put two rounds into the brunette, who was trying to kill her boyfriend.

“I want a fast sitrep, people. Where are we?” Ding asked.

“Nine tangos dead, including these two,” Midas said. He didn’t need to say that their intel had been wrong.

“Four surviving hostages in the crew’s quarters. One lightly wounded, patched and stable,” Adara said. “The other three are fine, just shook up.”

Ding frowned. “What about the three that didn’t make it?”

“Dead before we got there,” she said. “Bastards cut their throats.” She dragged a finger across her own to emphasize the point.

Ding turned around. “Dom?”

“A simple detonator. Deactivated. A couple of bricks of C-4 are still in place in the drilling compartment, but they’re inert.”

“I found a tripwire out front, connected to a Claymore knockoff,” Jack said. “There might be more. Everybody needs to keep their eyes open. We should do a check and keep the civilians locked down until we get an all-clear.”

“Good idea,” Ding said as he stepped over to the two corpses. He knelt down, studying them.

In the silence, Jack heard the howling wind outside. Loose sheet metal rattled, chains and pulleys clanged.

Satisfied, Ding stood and turned around. “All in all, a good job, people. We saved lives and ended bad ones and somehow managed to not get our asses blown up in the process. We’ll debrief when we get back to base.”

“What’s the plan for tonight?” Midas asked. The ex — Delta recce colonel was used to being in charge, but like all great leaders, he knew how to follow orders, too, and Ding was running this op.

“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.