Ian crawled out of the hide site with his weapon, hauling his rucksack out behind him. Strapping on the pack, he fired his infrared strobe and held it aloft, scanning the forest to his south for any sign of the approaching force and finding none.
But within seconds, David came over the net again.
“All right, he’s got you. Turn it off.”
Ian complied, donning his ruck before waiting nervously with weapon in hand until he discerned movement through the trees. At first he only saw the hints of a few shadowy figures passing among the forest, then made out more people until he realized he was looking at the lead assault team in a tight wedge.
For a moment, he thought the formation had missed the MSS entirely. The formation of shooters breezed straight past him, ten meters away from the hide site, as if there had been no mention of a linkup at all. They moved remarkably quietly, their footsteps guided by the best night vision that money could buy.
An infrared laser appeared on a tree to his side, then traced downward through the undergrowth back to its source in the formation as David transmitted, “Angel, come to me.”
The intelligence operative did as he was told, moving laterally to the assault force until he met up with David, following silently in the footsteps of the ground force commander.
19
“Objective rally point established 500 meters south of objective,” David said.
The transmission caught Cancer off guard—the assault force had already made shockingly fast progress through the forest. Now that they’d dropped off their rucks at an ORP, Cancer thought, this thing was going to kick off sooner rather than later.
David continued, “GFC requests a final update before proceeding with assault. Cancer, send it.”
The sniper scanned the objective before replying, “Still got a guard outside Tent Two oriented north, and a guy west of Tent Three oriented south.”
“Stand by.” There was a pause as David relayed the information to the Delta commander, and then he continued, “Racegun, go ahead.”
Worthy answered, “PK gunner still facing north beside Tent One. A single roving guard came out of Tent Four a few minutes ago; he’s currently stationary next to the road at the north edge of the camp.”
After another brief pause, David transmitted, “Copy all, assault force is moving out to the target. Clear the net for emergency updates, and stand by for the raid to commence.”
Sure thing, Cancer thought, continuing to scan the camp for any changes to enemy disposition as he waited for the assault to commence.
Cancer had been trying to reconcile why the Delta guys wouldn’t let his team open fire on the enemy in conjunction with their own snipers. It wasn’t as if his team couldn’t distinguish friendly from enemy; hell, they’d been the ones with eyes-on the objective, and that was the only reason anyone knew the hostages were here in the first place. To be relegated to the status of impotent observer in the wake of a historic hostage rescue seemed like a slap in the face after all the work, and frankly luck, leading up to this point.
And yeah, he got it. They were Delta Force, the intergalactic ninja death squad. Neurosurgeons of hostage rescue and all that. If they didn’t want his team shooting, they surely had reasons of their own, and naivety wasn’t one of them.
Still, Cancer decided, being a lone sniper had its advantages. His team had been sent to Nigeria to bag Usman Mokhammed, and that little shitbag was still camped out in the dome tent alongside the hostages. Cancer resolved to keep a close eye on that structure. In his experience, terrorist leaders tended to embrace their inner Olympic sprinter as soon as the shooting started, leaving it to their underlings to fight and die as they escaped.
And when Usman burst out of that tent to flee, Cancer was going to drop him like a sick animal.
He continued to lie in wait, expecting the fireworks to begin any moment now, but nothing happened. The visible guards continued to mull around the camp, the minutes seeming to stretch on endlessly as Cancer waited for the first shots to break out. He supposed that made sense; the assault force was probably creeping forward as silently as they could, closing the final distance with measured footfalls to keep from being compromised.
Cancer could tell the exact moment the enemy detected them.
There was a shout from the south side of camp, and the guard force began scrambling into position to face the woodline. Men were spilling out of the A-frame tents, emerging shirtless with a rifle in one hand and their magazine carriers in the other.
Delta’s response was equally abrupt. Within a second of the initial shout, every visible enemy was glowing with a constellation of infrared laser dots. Cancer was certain the melee would begin then, but none of the assaulters or their accompanying snipers took a shot. Instead, the enemy continued taking up fighting positions at the south side of the camp, yelling to one another and aiming their weapons in fear and uncertainty.
What was the assault force waiting for? Hostage rescue wasn’t Cancer’s forte, but this was insanity. They had seemingly every bad guy in their sights, yet held their fire for reasons that he couldn’t fathom.
Ultimately, it wasn’t until the first guard opened fire with his AK-47 that anyone from the Delta formation took action. But when they did, it was a thing of beauty.
The roaring burst from the assault rifle ended when the shooter’s chest split apart from return fire, and the sweeping rays of infrared lasers trembled with suppressed shots that decimated the enemy force. Standing enemies were falling dead before they could shoot, and those in the prone were slumped over their weapons as volley after volley of incoming fire laced through their bodies.
Only then did the assaulters storm out of the woods, the sheer immediacy of their arrival a shock even to Cancer—they must have been barely hidden in the vegetation at the camp’s fringes.
This thing was going to be over as quickly as it began, Cancer thought, and swung his aim to the dome tent as he waited for Usman to emerge.
Reilly watched the assault proceed through the screen of his night vision, the dark figures of Delta operators swarming across the camp with blinding speed.
The enemy force had simply wilted under their gunfire, and the medic only spotted one who survived long enough to run—an act he performed with impressive speed, legs pumping, his rifle in one hand as he sped north into Reilly’s line of sight.
Reilly knew he wasn’t supposed to shoot, but he’d be damned if he was going to risk that man flanking his position. Tracing the fighter’s path with his HK417, he fired three suppressed shots that ended his departure attempt. The fleeing enemy staggered and fell, hitting the ground with his legs spasming. The medic kept his aim but didn’t fire—unless the fighter was able to reach for the rifle that had fallen from his grasp, Reilly would let Delta finish him off.