SOAR: A Black Ops Novel

That wasn’t hard. The way Ritzik saw it, the most pressing problem was buying Wei-Liu sufficient time to get her job done. Once she’d rendered the device safe, they could all get the hell out of Dodge and scramble over the Tajik border. That was where SECDEF had told him to go. Rockman had passed the word to the TOC that there was a Special Forces training element in Dushanbe and the president was scrambling them. The SF people would move by chopper to Tokhtamysh. There, they’d be put on backchannel comms to Ritzik’s TOC in Almaty. If he could just make it across the border, they’d be waiting for him. But the training group was an overt unit. They couldn’t come get him. Their ROEs didn’t allow them to violate Chinese sovereignty.

So he had to buy Wei-Liu time. And the best way to do that was to take the battle to the enemy. From what Sam Phillips had been able to decipher from listening in on the Chinese, the PLA element in Kashgar understood that two of their HIPs had come under fire from a large IMU element. That gave Ritzik a tactical advantage — albeit a slim one. “What’s the fuel situation?”

“External tank is about half full. Internal tanks are virtually topped off.”

“How much time does that give us?”

“Fuel’s about eighteen hundred liters. That translates into just over two hours of flight time.”

Ritzik nodded. “What about the other chopper? Can we bleed fuel out of it?”

“If there’s a dry bladder tank in the stowage compartment behind the cockpit. I haven’t checked, but if there is one and it wasn’t shot up, we could use it to siphon avgas and top off the external on HIP One.”

“There’s no time for that now,” Ritzik said. “But I’ll get some people on it.” He turned. “Rowdy—”

The burly sergeant major fishhooked. “Yo.”

“Check on the fuel situation. I’m going to take the chopper. We’ll go after the IMU force. What I’m hoping to do is make enough noise to get the Chinese coming out of Kashgar involved — draw them away from you.”

“Gotcha.”

“You guys stay here — most important thing is to give the lady time to work on the weapon.”

“Roger that.” The sergeant major gave the area a quick once-over. “Y’know, Loner, maybe we could make it look like the PLA won this one.”

“Great idea. If you go that route, you’ll have to move the nuke,” Ritzik said. “As soon as she does whatever she has to — bare minimum — get the damn MADM out of the truck. Camouflage it — give her space to work, but keep the damn thing out of sight. Flip the truck if you can. Burn it. And set the chopper off, too — once you drain the avgas.”

“Can do. We’ll make it look like this was the IMU advance party — and it was decimated.”

Ritzik said, “Hide the 4x4. You can’t let ‘em see it, Rowdy — not a hint.” He pointed up the slope. “Set up defensive positions — improvise a couple of shaped charges and set ‘em. But don’t initiate anything unless they’re about to overrun you.” He looked at the sergeant major. “Oh, hell, Rowdy, you’ve forgotten more about this than I’ll ever know.”

“Roger that, Loner.”

“But get everybody home. In case things go south and we don’t make it back, you take the 4x4 and get everybody out — Tajikistan.”

“You’ll come away just fine.”

“Maybe. But the bottom line is evade and escape, Rowdy. No tracks, no evidence.” Ritzik took in Sam Phillips’s skeptical expression. “Look, I figure if Mick and I can shift the Chinese eastward — where Mustache Man is coming from — we can focus the PLA on them, instead of us.”

“Since you like long odds I have a real estate proposition you might be interested in,” Sam said. “A seaside hotel and health spa in Chechnya — it’s a Red Roof Inn, run by real Reds. The saunas are all heated with napalm. I can let you have it for thirty cents on the dollar.”

“Okay, so I believe in Santa Claus, too,” Ritzik said. “You have a better idea?”

The CIA officer’s face grew serious. “No.” He shrugged. “Actually I don’t.” He looked at Ritzik. “Let me come with you. I’d like a crack at Mustache Man.”

Mickey D said, “Boss, I’ll need a second pair of hands in the cockpit.”

Ritzik looked at the spook. Finally, he said, “You could work the radio — translate.”

Sam shrugged. “Anything you need.”

Ritzik focused on the sergeant major. “I want to take Ty with me. And one more to help crew the chopper.”

Yates said, “Take Gino.”

“Good.” Ritzik scanned the cloudless sky. “Rowdy—” “Loner?”

Ritzik’s face was a mask. “You do what you have to. Whatever it takes.”

“Wilco.” Yates’s expression told Ritzik the message had been received.

Ritzik turned to the pilot. “Mick, let’s go hunting. Get the bird ready to fly.”

24

125 Kilometers East-Northeast of Tokhtamysh.

0824 Hours Local Time.