Clear and present danger - Tom Clancy [334]
"KNIFE, this is VARIABLE. Do you read me, over? Reply by name. Say again, reply by name."
"Wait a minute," Chavez said. "This is Chavez. Who's on this net?"
"Listen fast, kid, 'cause your net is compromised. This is Clark. We met awhile back. Head in the same direction you did on the practice night. Do you remember that?"
"Roger. I remember the way we headed then. We can do that."
"I'll be back for you tomorrow. Hang in there, kid. It ain't over yet. Repeat: I will be back for you. Now haul your ass out of there. Out."
"What was that all about?" Vega asked.
"We loop around east, down the hill to the north, then around east."
"And then what?" Oso demanded.
"How the fuck should I know?"
"Head back north," Clark ordered.
"What's an REMF?" Larson asked as he started the turn.
Clark's reply was so low as to be inaudible. "An REMF is a rear-echelon motherfucker, one of those useless, order-generating bastards who gets us line-animals killed. And one of them is going to pay for this, Larson. Now shut up and fly."
For another hour they continued their futile search for Team BANNER, then they headed back to Panama. That flight took two hours and fifteen minutes, during which Clark didn't say word and Larson was afraid to. The pilot taxied the aircraft right into the hangar with the Pave Low, and the doors closed behind him. Ryan and Johns were waiting for them.
"Well?" Jack asked.
"We made contact with OMEN and FEATURE," Clark said. "Come on." He led them into an office with a table. There he spread out his map.
"What about the others?" Jack asked. Colonel Johns didn't have to. He already knew part of it from the look on Clark's face.
"OMEN will be right here tomorrow night. FEATURE will be here," Clark said, indicating two places marked on the map.
"Okay, we can handle that," Johns said.
"Goddammit!" Ryan growled. "What about the others?"
"We never made contact with BANNER. We watched the bad guys overrun KNIFE. Most of it," Clark corrected himself. "At least one man got away. I'm going in after him, on the ground." Clark turned to the pilot. "Larson, you'd better get a few hours. I need you bright-eyed and bushy-tailed in six hours."
"What about the weather?" he asked PJ.
"That fucking storm's jinking around like a Weasel on a SAM hunt. Nobody knows where the hell it's going, but it ain't there yet, and I've flown in weather before," Colonel Johns replied.
"Okay." The pilot walked off. There were some cots set in the next room. He landed on one and was asleep in a minute.
"Going in on the ground?" Ryan asked.
"What do you expect me to do - leave them there? Ain't we done enough of that?" Clark looked away. His eyes were red, and only PJ knew that it wasn't from strain and lack of sleep. "Sorry, Jack. There's some of our people there. I have to try. They'd try for me. It's cool, man. I know how to do it."
"How?" PJ asked.
"Larson and I'll fly in around noon, get a car and drive down. I told Chavez - that's the kid I talked to - to get around them and head east, down the mountain. We'll try to pick them up, drive 'em to the airport, and just fly them out."
"Just like that?" Ryan asked incredulously.
"Sure. Why not?"
"There's a difference between being brave and being an idiot," Ryan said.
"Who gives a fuck about being brave? It's my job." Clark walked off to get some sleep.
"You know what you're really afraid of?" Johns said when he'd left. "You're afraid of remembering the times that you could have done it and didn't. I can give you a play-by-play of every failure I've had in twenty-some years." The colonel was wearing his blue shirt with command wings and all the ribbons. He had quite a few.
Jack's eyes fixed on one, pale blue with five white stars. "But you…"
"It's a nice thing to wear, and it's nice to have four-stars salute me first and treat me like I'm something special. But you know what matters? Those two guys I got out. One's a general now. The other one flies for Delta. They're both alive. They both have families. That's what matters, Mr. Ryan. The ones I didn't get out,