Rio was already scanning their surroundings—they were in a relatively flat part of the country, so they had plenty enough sky for the SAT phone to work. And the vehicle had an external antenna, which meant—in theory—they’d be able to pull in a satellite call while on the move. Still, he swiftly pulled over, steering the SUV as far onto the shoulder as he could.
It would be bad form to drop a call from an admiral, and they were going to do their damnedest to make sure that didn’t happen.
The phone rang, and Rio was ready. He hit the button on the screen, connecting them. “Rosetti, sir,” he said, and quickly reported their longitude and latitude.
“Two things.” Both the signal and the admiral’s voice were remarkably clear as the man didn’t waste any time with pleasantries. “One: the Ustanzians left their compound early Sunday morning. They report receiving a tip about the coming wave of attacks, and the queen and her family were moved to a safe, undisclosed location.”
“Whoa, who gave them a tip—” Dave started but Rio silenced him with a sharp look. Shit yeah, that news was worth a fullJesus, Mary, and Joseph,with a dozenHoly Christsthrown in. But discovering who knew what in advance of these stateside attacks—although important to national security—was not part oftheirassignment.
“Did they leave any staff behind at the compound, sir?” Rio asked.
“Just one man—a caretaker,” Admiral Francisco reported, “which brings me to two: I just received satellite images—stills from SARs that aren’t stopped by cloud cover. They reveal the compound’s been destroyed by fire since the Ustanzians departed.”
Dave’s expressive face was a fullDaaaamn, that’s not good, and Rio knew his was reflecting that same sentiment as the admiral continued.
“The ski lodge was still burning as of yesterday before the sun set, when these images were taken. Weather in that area ruled out lightning strike, plus the main gate appears to have been breached. It’s hanging open.”
Dave quietly opened the map of the area around the Ustanzian compound, and Rio knew he was already starting to plan their route in, since driving up to the gate was no longer a good option.
The admiral kept going, “A second heavy smoke signature, some dozens of miles down the road from the compound reveals the shell of a vehicle, possibly an SUV—” he cleared his throat, no doubt because Thomas’s last report placed him and the admiral’s niece in a black SUV “—also destroyed by fire. At that time, there were no other vehicles on the roads in that area.”
But these SARs images were literally snapshots, so that last bit was mostly useless—well, aside from the intel that the mountain wasn’t teeming with too many hostiles to hide.
“I’ve sent those coordinates separately,” Admiral Francisco continued, “in the event the images don’t get through to you. I’ve also put in a request for infrared video imaging, see if we can get any human heat signatures in the area, but the response lag time is significant.”
No shit the lag time was significant if an admiral didn’t receive pictures taken late yesterday until right fucking now. If that pattern of delay repeated, he wouldn’t get the infrareds until Rio and Dave were on top of the compound.
“Your mission is...” Francisco cleared his throat. “Extremely low priority.”
“For Patterson and me, sir, it’s ouronlypriority,” Rio reminded him. “Whatever intel you provide, it’s better late than never. But we won’t wait for it, sir. We’ll proceed as planned, stopping first at the burned vehicle, factoring in the potential for hostiles in the area.”
“Get moving,” the admiral ordered. “Just get there.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
Dave cut the connection as Rio pulled back out onto the highway and pressed his foot to the floor.
As the text with the coordinates for the burned out SUV came in, Dave turned his attention to finding the location on the map. “Direct ETA to the SUV is thirty-two hours,” he reported. “But we’re gonna want to disconnect and hide the gas tank before we get there. I’ll do that math, see what our options are.”
Rio nodded. That was a good plan. Disconnecting the hitch to the gas tank would make them far more nimble—and less likely to explode if one of the hostiles got off a lucky shot.
“I hope the admiral can get us those heat signatures soon. It’d be nice to know how many hostiles we’re up against,” Dave murmured. “Two SEALs against twenty, no problem, but two against two thousand...?”
“Three,” Rio corrected him.
Dave clearly wasn’t following, so Rio clarified.
“Three SEALs,” he said. “You, me, and Lieutenant King.”
The rush of understanding in Dave’s brown eyes was combined with something else—kindness and compassion. “Rio, that SUV,” he started, but he stopped himself and simply said, “This could be really bad.”
Rio shook his head as he coaxed their own vehicle to move a little faster. “You don’t know Thomas King. Not the way I do. Just... Look, take advantage of cell service to nudge your loser ex,thendo the math for the gas tank.”
“Yeah. Thanks, I... will. I... wish I didn’t care.” Dave was embarrassed, because Rio knew the whole story. Jon had, without a doubt, treated Dave like shit. “I shouldn’t care.”
“Yeah, it doesn’t work that way,” Rio said.
“I’m not sure what to say.” Dave sighed. “I’ve already sent him three texts.”
