We hear the shot. On all the feeds, from different angles, the man at the gate suddenly collapses. The sniper team likely set up farther away, and downwind from the compound, to help mask the sound of the shot and not alert anyone inside to their presence.
The sniper team bugs out while the rest of the forces converge on the compound. They cut the chain on the gate and silently roll it open just enough they can make it through.
From that point on, they’re inside and moving fast. Fifteen minutes later, they’ve located and safely rescued the two women who were locked in a tiny windowless room in the middle of the structure.
They’re beaten and bloody, and dressed in dirty, ripped robes and head scarves, but they’re alive.
And everyone around us in the room lets out a happy cheer and starts applauding.
There’s a quick search of the house, which produces some cell phones, a couple of laptops, and a filing cabinet of papers, but not much else. There were no other women there, and a total of five men present, including the one at the gate—all killed.
It’s not easy knowing that live deaths occurred in front of me, but somehow, it’s not as…brutalas the other day?
I know that sounds stupid.
But I’ve seen plenty of movies and TV shows where people are shot, and in most cases, this wasn’t exactly like that, but it wasn’t…
Prolonged. There was no melodramatic jerking of bodies before they fell over. People shot just…collapse.
It’s also easier watching the deaths on a black and white IR feed, versus in full color.
The helicopters swoop in and pick up the troops and hostages. Like that, they’re racing back toward their base, much to the relief of everyone here.
No losses to our side.
The president looks at the defense secretary. “I want a phone call with Agent Andelsson after she’s been medically cleared and debriefed.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I hope I didn’t react.
Who thefuckis Agent Andelsson?
Then I realize from the context what they mean—these weren’t just journalists.
At least, one of the women rescued wasn’t just a journalist.
Leo is tasked with doing something for the president, but even though I’m watching as he makes his way around the far side of the table to leave the SitRoom, he doesn’t look at me.
He does give Elliot a head tip, though.
Motherfucker.
I don’t know if I should feel angry or jealous.
Or hurt.
Or, maybe I should feel worried. Because something feels…off in a way it didn’t before.
I guess I need to find time to sandwich that talk with him into the schedule sooner rather than later.
* * * *
With the good outcome of the rescue, the rest of the day’s schedule devolves before my very eyes, forcing me to make several adjustments on the fly. The president wants to hold a press briefing to announce the rescue, and she wants Elliot there when she does it, and for the ensuing Q&A.
There’s the first scramble to rearrange Elliot’s day. At least Elliot’s not supposed to be over at the Senate today. That’ll be tomorrow’s “fun.”
Then the campaign manager insists he needs Elliot at the new headquarterstonightto go over things, in person, meaning I have to get with the detail and scrap our plans to go directly home after Elliot’s scheduled dinner with donors.
