Samurai Game (Ghostwalkers, #10)(112)

Sam mapped out his assigned area in his mind, keeping an eye on the time. He made it back to the designated spot to find Kadan emerging from tall ferns. Nico was already waiting, but there was no sign of Jonas.

“There’s a slight depression about twenty meters to the southeast, but other than that, it’s all the same, trees, bugs, monkeys, and snakes,” Sam reported.

“I’ve got the same shit,” Nico said.

Kadan looked around him, clearly concerned that Jonas wasn’t there. “It’s the same to the north. There are a couple of small hills, that’s it. We’ll see what Jonas found and go from there, but from what I see on the map, I think that the depression would make a good hide site. We can use it for our patrol base. It’s 03:50.” He looked around again, and swore under his breath. “Where the hell is Jonas?”

Sam’s heart dropped when only silence answered the question.

“Jonas, Jonas, this is Bishop, you copy? Jonas, do you copy?” Kadan spoke into the com.

This isn’t good, Sam said, already starting to thread his way back through the jumble of downed trees and hanging vines. Anything could happen in that absolute darkness, surrounded by hostiles, and switching from speech to telepathy seemed a much better idea.

We’d better start looking, Nico agreed.

You two move clockwise. I’ll go counterclockwise. Be back here in fifteen.

Sam nodded. Fifteen minutes, check.

Jonas pushed his way out of the jungle. “Hey, where are you heading?”

Kadan spun around, relief on his face. What the f*ck, Jonas. Where the hell have you been?

We were about to go looking for you, Sam said. Your f*cking radio broken?

Jonas flashed a small self-deprecating grin. Yeah, actually it is. I tripped on a tree root and broke the battery case. The batteries won’t stay in now. I can fix it once we get into a hide.

Kadan let out his breath. Well, glad you’re good. I was afraid we’d have to hump your gear and your dead ass out of here.

Jonas indicated back into the jungle. The creek that’s set as the meet point isn’t far from here. I set my claymores up in case we need to “pop smoke.”

To pop smoke was to leave quickly, and given the circumstances, Sam was very much afraid that was exactly what they’d have to do.

The claymores are set on the edges of the creek. The first two are about three meters this side of where we expect the face-to-face to be. They can be popped as the team moves. I’ve got the detonator on remote. If needed, there’s a second set ten meters farther, on a time delay. Stop, pull the ring, and haul ass.

Kadan flashed a small smile, the only indication that Jonas was forgiven for taking ten years off his life. Okay. Good. Did you find an over watch position?

Jonas nodded. Yes, there’s a small hill about twenty meters to the south. I think we should have adequate visibility from there.

Kadan nodded his approval. Good. We found a hide. Let’s move. Fix your radio, genius. We’ll call for the second team’s insertion and then we’ll settle in for some rack time. One of us on guard at all times. Everybody good with an hour rotation? He didn’t wait for an answer. Good.

Once settled in their hide position, Sam made the call. “Valhalla . . . Valhalla, this is Reaper One.”

“Reaper One, this is Valhalla. Good signal. Ready to copy, over.”

The voice at the other end of the radio always gave Sam a sense of being connected. “Valhalla, Reaper One . . . mission is a go, over.”

“Copy. We have a green light for Team Two’s insertion. Valhalla out.”

Sam never had a problem sleeping anywhere, anytime. One got used to taking every opportunity because often, you could go days without a safe place to catch a few minutes of sleep, but this time, when he closed his eyes, he saw his foster father’s face. The general was genuinely at a loss as to who was selling him out and why. He couldn’t conceive of such treacherous behavior as burning a single soldier, let alone an entire team.

Sam looked up at the branches swaying high up in the canopy, the movement soft and subtle. As a rule he would let the gentle wind lull him into at least drifting so his brain would slow down and relax, but it was impossible. He knew the president had been asked for aid—to send a covert unit into the rebel held territory to wreak havoc and hopefully break the back of the rebel army by destroying munitions and vehicles as well as targeting the two men who vied for leadership of the ragtag rebels.

Someone knew of those orders and had sent the plea to Whitney. Whitney had his own agenda and had someone in his pocket in the CIA with enough clout to make a deal with one of the rebel leaders. The deal was to put Ekabela in power in exchange for the diamond. Along with a clear path to leading the rebels, Ekabela wanted a GhostWalker to pay for his brother’s death. Whitney had selected Sam and in doing so, had tipped off the team that there was a double cross coming.

Had Whitney chosen Sam with the idea it would alert the team prior to the mission? It was entirely possible. He liked to play games. And if so, how far would he go? If the CIA was in charge of the operation and was deliberating operating out of Fort Bragg, what would they do when the team followed their orders to the letter and destroyed everyone, taking the package instead of turning it over to Whitney’s man in the field?

Sam tasted anger in his mouth. They’d get burned. No doubt about it and they’d be left in hostile territory, a hell of a long way from home after stirring up a hornet’s nest. He linked his fingers behind his head. It wouldn’t be the first time it had happened.