“Got some chemical based stuff, too, but you won’t need it for this. Come on, let’s get you suited up.”
A familiar energy hummed through Jack’s veins as he prepared. He’d forgotten what it felt like. The rush of adrenaline. The bite of excitement. The knowledge, deep in your soul, that you were doing something good. Something that was going to make the world a better place.
In mission mode, the sequence felt almost comforting as he stripped down the lightweight, waterproof sniper rifle and tested the telescopic sights along with gear specifically made for night ops. He made an appreciative sound as he fired off a few rounds, testing both the single-shot and automatic burst capabilities.
Charlie’s high-tech weaponry was a far cry from the standard-issue crap he’d been given all those years ago. As were the superlight black cargo pants, bullet-resistant black long sleeve shirt, and flak jacket.
Jack carefully packed up the plastic C4 packs, timers, and other demolition gear, along with a few old-fashioned grenades, and strapped them strategically around his body.
“In and out,” Charlie said, suiting up beside him. “Piece of cake.”
It was hard not to share Charlie’s confidence. Thanks to a tiny, integrated circuit device (Charlie called it a “microchip”) surgically implanted beneath Brian’s skin, they knew exactly where he was. It was like something right out of the movies. They had global satellite imagery of the location that was almost as clear as a sunny day photograph, and digital scanners capable of picking up the heat signatures of any warm-blooded creature with a given range.
It left Jack with only one question.
“If you have all this, why did you need me?”
Charlie looked at him. “I like my toys, Jack, but they are no match for a highly-trained SEAL with your kind of experience. Besides, I’ve an ulterior motive.” Jack raised an eyebrow in question. “I’m hoping that you’ll decide to stay on.”
Jack grunted. He’d been out of the action for fifteen years, a hell of a long time for that kind of thing. “I’m just here to get Brian out, then I’m done.”
Grinning, Charlie slapped a hand on his shoulder. “Sure, Jack. Whatever you say.”
Sufficiently armed, Charlie led Jack through a series of tunnels (why was he not surprised), emerging into a garage several hundred yards away from the Range, where an unusual looking vehicle awaited them.
“What the hell do you call this monster?” Jack asked, taking in the matte black vehicle that looked like a cross between an Army Jeep and a tank.
“One of my new toys,” Charlie chuckled. “That, my friend, is a High Mobility Multi-Purpose Wheeled Vehicle, or a HUMVEE, for short. Been around since eighty-two or so, but they’re not easy to get. Can go anywhere, do anything, with both style and extreme prejudice.”
“You’re going to let me drive that, right?”
“Jack, sign on with me and you’ll be able to buy your own.”
The inside of the vehicle was far more impressive than the outside; the dashboard was a mass of gadgetry worthy of a cockpit. Jack couldn’t help but think how his son Sean’s eyes would light up. The boy loved vehicles of all kinds. He was the only kid Jack knew who dismantled his toys and put them back together instead of playing with them.
“Now this here,” Charlie said, waving his hand, “is all custom. Designed and built by a computer specialist in the NSA.”
“Another good friend?” Jack guessed, wondering just how far Charlie’s network extended.
“Aye,” Charlie winked. “Can never have too many good friends, I always say.”
––––––––
It had been a while, but Jack slipped easily into SEAL mode. At least mentally. Physically, it was a bit of a challenge. He’d thought he’d kept in fairly decent shape with a strict regimen of push-ups, sit-ups, and calisthenics, but he was breathing heavily by the time he hit his position.
Mind cleared, he sought that concentrated inner focus that carried him through more missions than he could count.
The fancy, mansion-like house and surrounding estate in an affluent suburb of northern New Jersey was about as far away as one could get from the Mekong Delta, but the underlying principles were the same: Get in, get it done, and get out intact.
Charlie reviewed the plan one more time, his voice ringing crystal-clear through the tiny earpiece. The front gate was locked, manned by a single guard. They wouldn’t be going in that way, but the distraction team would.
Jack would take the wall on the eastern perimeter, the one closest to the ten bay garage. From there, they would ghost their way past the security cameras mounted every hundred feet or so, avoiding the two guards who patrolled the grounds with canines. Then slip into the hidden service entrance around the back, descend into the underground area where they believed Brian was being held. Grab him and get out much the same way they went it.