160th, a unit dedicated to flying the most difficult missions.
Tuttle's connection to the director and Davenport had landed him a huge contract, and although his company flew cargo and personnel for other agencies, it would now have a section solely responsible for the Maverick Program and other hush-hush CIA operations. Tuttle's people were supposed to be the best; that was comforting for Derek and the team.
The jet touched down rather smoothly, given the conditions, and taxied to the hangar. Light from the cabin pierced the darkness as the jet door opened. The crew stepped down and walked toward Derek and his men.
“You Stevens?” the pilot said.
“I am.”
“You ready?”
“We are.”
“Alright, let's go. Get your stuff and get your men on board. ETD in ten minutes.”
The team grabbed their gear and headed toward the plane. As Derek shouldered his bag, Carlisle appeared out of the darkness of the hangar.
“Good luck out there, Derek.”
“Thanks. We'll be in touch once we hit the ground.”
“Sounds good. Get out of here.”
Derek hustled toward the plane and got on.
Sunday, January 24
33,000 feet
0800 Hrs (1400 Hrs Germany)
Derek blinked groggily and looked around. He had been sleeping with his head resting between the window and his seat. The back-and-forth travel had exhausted him and the other men. At least the jet was well furnished; every seat had a ton of legroom and was spread out to maximize comfort for the passengers.
Miller and Grimes were lying on a couch that lined one wall, watching a flat-screen TV on the opposite side. In the rear, Randy and Carson played cards at a deck-mounted table. Beyond the table was another couch and area with drinks and snacks, followed by benches in the rear and a ramp for loading equipment. This would be the exit point for the team. The men were flying in style, but the luxuries wouldn't last for long.
Carson screamed out, “Dude, you gotta be fucking kidding me! How'd you get that hand every fucking time?”
“I guess fortune is on my side tonight, bro,” Randy said, grinning. “Want me to make sure your chute is packed right? I'm not sure if I'd jump, if I were you.”
A beep sounded, and the captain's voice interrupted the exchange. “Just a quick update from the cabin. We are currently cruising at 33,000 feet and seem to have pretty good weather ahead of us. We should be reaching our first destination in about an hour and fifteen minutes. Sit back and enjoy the rest of your ride, and we will have you there shortly.”
Grimes sat up and asked Miller, “How long are we in Germany?”
“Not too long hopefully, but we want to be sure to not reach Pakistani air space during daylight. Once we take of it's about seven hours or so to our jump.”
“Gotcha.”
The team would be jumping into an area known as the FATA, the Federally Administered Tribal Area, in Pakistan. The FATA was perhaps one of the most dangerous places in the world. Pakistan did little to nothing to monitor the area and would not allow US forces inside to help. Te area had become a safe haven and training ground for the world's worst terrorists. Derek knew that if you picked just about anybody of the CIA's priority target list, he was either there now or had been there recently.
The team was to land in the FATA just east of the Afghan border near Nangarhar Province. In this area, the fabled Khyber Pass ran from Pakistan into Afghanistan. This was one of the several channels used by terrorists for entering Afghanistan to fight the infidels. It was extremely dangerous. Theteam's plan was to skirt the Khyber Pass and cross the border just outside of Torkham, a border town on the Afghan side.
Sunday, January 24
Ramstein, Germany
Ramstein Air Base
1517 Hrs
The jet bounced hard as it landed at Ramstein.
The men stood and stretched as the aircraft taxied to an isolated area. A fuel truck followed and refilled the jet. Within twenty minutes, the pilot announced that the team
Tuttle's connection to the director and Davenport had landed him a huge contract, and although his company flew cargo and personnel for other agencies, it would now have a section solely responsible for the Maverick Program and other hush-hush CIA operations. Tuttle's people were supposed to be the best; that was comforting for Derek and the team.
The jet touched down rather smoothly, given the conditions, and taxied to the hangar. Light from the cabin pierced the darkness as the jet door opened. The crew stepped down and walked toward Derek and his men.
“You Stevens?” the pilot said.
“I am.”
“You ready?”
“We are.”
“Alright, let's go. Get your stuff and get your men on board. ETD in ten minutes.”
The team grabbed their gear and headed toward the plane. As Derek shouldered his bag, Carlisle appeared out of the darkness of the hangar.
“Good luck out there, Derek.”
“Thanks. We'll be in touch once we hit the ground.”
“Sounds good. Get out of here.”
Derek hustled toward the plane and got on.
Sunday, January 24
33,000 feet
0800 Hrs (1400 Hrs Germany)
Derek blinked groggily and looked around. He had been sleeping with his head resting between the window and his seat. The back-and-forth travel had exhausted him and the other men. At least the jet was well furnished; every seat had a ton of legroom and was spread out to maximize comfort for the passengers.
Miller and Grimes were lying on a couch that lined one wall, watching a flat-screen TV on the opposite side. In the rear, Randy and Carson played cards at a deck-mounted table. Beyond the table was another couch and area with drinks and snacks, followed by benches in the rear and a ramp for loading equipment. This would be the exit point for the team. The men were flying in style, but the luxuries wouldn't last for long.
Carson screamed out, “Dude, you gotta be fucking kidding me! How'd you get that hand every fucking time?”
“I guess fortune is on my side tonight, bro,” Randy said, grinning. “Want me to make sure your chute is packed right? I'm not sure if I'd jump, if I were you.”
A beep sounded, and the captain's voice interrupted the exchange. “Just a quick update from the cabin. We are currently cruising at 33,000 feet and seem to have pretty good weather ahead of us. We should be reaching our first destination in about an hour and fifteen minutes. Sit back and enjoy the rest of your ride, and we will have you there shortly.”
Grimes sat up and asked Miller, “How long are we in Germany?”
“Not too long hopefully, but we want to be sure to not reach Pakistani air space during daylight. Once we take of it's about seven hours or so to our jump.”
“Gotcha.”
The team would be jumping into an area known as the FATA, the Federally Administered Tribal Area, in Pakistan. The FATA was perhaps one of the most dangerous places in the world. Pakistan did little to nothing to monitor the area and would not allow US forces inside to help. Te area had become a safe haven and training ground for the world's worst terrorists. Derek knew that if you picked just about anybody of the CIA's priority target list, he was either there now or had been there recently.
The team was to land in the FATA just east of the Afghan border near Nangarhar Province. In this area, the fabled Khyber Pass ran from Pakistan into Afghanistan. This was one of the several channels used by terrorists for entering Afghanistan to fight the infidels. It was extremely dangerous. Theteam's plan was to skirt the Khyber Pass and cross the border just outside of Torkham, a border town on the Afghan side.
Sunday, January 24
Ramstein, Germany
Ramstein Air Base
1517 Hrs
The jet bounced hard as it landed at Ramstein.
The men stood and stretched as the aircraft taxied to an isolated area. A fuel truck followed and refilled the jet. Within twenty minutes, the pilot announced that the team
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