SOAR: A Black Ops Novel

“Thank you. He is fine. His name is Aibek. And I hope that you will see him, God willing.”

“I do, too — if there’s time.”

“I understand.” The Kazakh twisted in his seat. “Rowdy Yates told me on the phone you will be just passing through, Mike.”

“Sort of.”

“If there is anything I can do…”

“Believe me, Talgat, I’ll let you know.”

“Rowdy said you will need a civilian aircraft to practice on.”

“A Yak-42. I do — it is critical. For a day or two.”

“Critical. So.” The Kazakh licked his lower lip. “Ah, yes — I understand now — to rehearse takedowns.” His tone turned eager. “Is there an incident? I have heard nothing, Mike. If there is an incident, I would like to be able to come and observe.”

“There’s no incident,” Ritzik said quickly. “Something else. It’s complicated.” He looked toward the glass front of the terminal building three hundred feet away. “Let’s drive, Talgat. I don’t want to be talking where anybody can see us.”

“I understand.” The Kazakh rubbed his palms together, put the vehicle in gear, popped the clutch, and sped off across the concrete apron and turned onto a taxiway running parallel to the long, single runway. “Security first — what you and Rowdy call SEC-OP.”

“OPSEC, Talgat.” Ritzik corrected. “OPSEC. Operational security.”

“OPSEC.” The Kazakh steered precariously off the taxiway, heading away from the terminal on rough concrete, until he pulled around the far side of a huge hangar, then came to a screeching stop in the dark space between two floodlit areas. “Now we cannot be seen or heard, Mike,” he said. He turned in his seat. “I gather you are traveling with this beautiful woman for a reason?”

Ritzik chose to ignore the question completely. “Talgat, Rowdy didn’t fill you in completely about our visit.”

The colonel’s face clouded over. “Ah?”

“He couldn’t, Talgat. He was on an open line.”

“OPSEC.” The Kazakh’s sunny expression returned. “I understand, Mike.”

“So here’s what’s going to happen: we’re bringing in a C-5—a big transporter — tonight, not the Hercules we’ve been using on our other visits. The plane will arrive at zero three fifty-five, two and a half hours before the first commercial flight departs; three hours before the first incoming flight. I’ll need the airport lights shut down between zero three-fifty and zero four forty-five, because we’ll be working under total blackout conditions. We’re bringing our own security force, because we’re going to have to cordon off that warehouse of yours.”

The Kazakh’s face darkened. “Mike, this is no drop-by visit. You are arriving in force. If the ministry had known about this…”

Ritzik’s hand fell onto Umarov’s shoulder. “I know we’re bending the rules, Talgat.”

“Bending the rules? You have shredded the rules.” Umarov shook free of the American’s hand. “I will have to inform the minister.”

“Talgat.” Ritzik’s voice was insistent. “You can’t.”

“I must.”

“Believe me, Talgat, this has been cleared at the highest level. But you can’t call the Defense Ministry.” Ritzik paused. “You’re going to have to trust me.”

The Kazakh turned. Eyes narrowed, he took Ritzik’s chin in his huge paw and manipulated the American’s face up, down, and sideways, looking deeply. “Mike—”

“This is no drill, Talgat. My president has spoken personally to your president about what is going on. My president has received your president’s promise of complete cooperation. And has promised another American aid package as a way of saying thanks. But it’s crucial that we maintain OPSEC — absolutely critical. People’s lives depend on it. Your defense minister is a good man — an honorable man. I know that. But you know as well as I do that the Ministry of Defense is a sieve. You yourself have said to me that just about every op you’ve ever advised the ministry about in advance has gone sour.”

Umarov frowned and said, “I cannot deny that.”

Ritzik read the Kazakh’s eyes and knew he’d broken through. “So, you know the ministry has been penetrated: by the Chinese, by the Russians, by al-Qaeda, and even by the IMU. I trust you, Talgat. I trust you to do the right thing. But I couldn’t put my people at risk by giving you the whole story until we were face-to-face.”

“But a C-5, Mike.”

“It is flying completely blacked out.”

“They can do that?”

“There are squadrons specially trained. It will be here for less than an hour.” Ritzik waited to see what effect his words were having. “I can promise you that what we’re here to do will not in any way infringe on Kazakh internal affairs, or affect Kazakhstan’s current relationship with the Russian Federation.”

“So the president knows.”

“Yes.”

“Does Moscow know what you are doing?” “That’s way above my pay grade, Talgat, but my guess would be no.”

The Kazakh nodded. “But what you just said — is that on your honor, Mike?”

Ritzik nodded. “On my honor, Talgat. On my life.”

Umarov bit his lips. “Less than an hour on the ground?”

Ritzik said, “Forty-five minutes.”

“And the Rangers?”

“At first light they can wear Kazakh anoraks over their uniforms, if you wish.”