CHAPTER 1
30,000 feet above the Sahel region of Africa
The thundering,vibrating hum of the C-130 engines covered Talon King’s quickened heartbeat. The temperature in the hold had dropped below freezing, and frost clung to the edges of his team’s visors as they adjusted their oxygen feeds, which were clipped to their masks.
“No error,” Talon said quietly over the comms. Everyone knew the score. He didn’t need to say the words, but as Panther team leader, it was his responsibility to ensure each of his men made it back from this mission. Each checked their gear, and then oneby one, they inspected each other’s. This was a surgical mission. Get in, extract the target, and get out.
He checked his black MC-5 parachute system that had been rigged tightly over his compressed tactical loadout. Everything was secure. He glanced to where his oxygen mask and bailout bottle were connected to the aircraft’s onboard oxygen system until they jumped. Each of the connections was solid. A low signature rucksack packed with essential breaching gear and a collapsible drone was strapped over his ballistic armor. Everything was tightly connected. His suppressed MK18 was strapped horizontally to his chest.
The heads-up display showing on the full-face helmet detailed the altimeter and his airflow. It would also show the position of his team as they jumped. He checked the connection of his gloves to his suit. At 30,000 feet, anything they missed could mean hypoxia or death.
To his right, Juggernaut, his second in command, double-checked the risers, then turned and gave Talon a firm nod. “Good to go,” Jug said calmly. Stryker, their comms/entry/medic specialist, stood at the back and moved his head from side to side, cracking hisneck. It was a superstitious habit the man had developed. Hammer stood loose and ready. He was solid and had taken the empty slot when Ronan, their old skipper, had started leading a desk instead of a team.
Talon turned to look at Wolf. It was Wolf’s second mission since being cleared to come back to work. The man had been through hell after having a concussion that caused some serious issues, but the doctors had said he was clear to come back to the team. Talon was withholding judgment on that call.Trust but verify. He was watching closely and would continue to keep an eye on his friend. He fucking wanted the guy to be solid and functioning at one hundred percent, but the slightest hesitation could get them all killed.
“I’m good, Wraith,” Wolf assured him after the prolonged stare. Talon acknowledged his teammate’s words with a nod. He lowered his polarized visor over the clear shield where his heads-up display was projected.
The red light to his right over the ramp flipped on. “One minute,” Talon said, lining himself up to jump first. He didn’t have to check. He knew his team was doing the same behind him. The loadmaster moved forward and became visible in hisperipheral vision. Talon watched as he held up his hand with five fingers and counted down.
Five, four, three, two … Air slammed into the hold of the aircraft. It made a sound that reminded him of a sharp knife severing heavy fabric. Talon watched the light above the open maw of the rear of the C-130. It lit green.
Talon stepped into the vacuum of darkness and emptiness.
The rumble of the aircraft stopped for just a moment. Then, as his body dropped at one hundred and fifteen knots and he broke through the atmosphere, his ears were filled with the distinct scream of that violent fall. Talon tightened his muscles until he was angled, legs slightly spread, arms held firmly at ninety degrees, his head down. The ground didn’t exist yet. He focused on the heads-up display on his visor, the faint green digits rolled.29,000 feet … 27,000feet… Talon glanced past the display and took in the grandeur of the view. A burnt orange brush stroke painted the horizon far to the west. There were no city lights, no landing zone indicators. The land below was nothing but ungoverned and jagged terrain. His heads-up display flashed blue now.Drop Zone Confirmed.
Talon glanced at the altimeter.18,000 feet. Thecold seeped through his Nomex flight suit beneath his body armor. Beside him, other silhouettes fell into his vision. Jug, Stryker, Hammer, and Wolf right beside him. “Now,” he said and tucked slightly, increasing his speed. He knew his team had done the same.12,000 feet…10,000 feet… Talon drew a deep breath, steadied his heartbeat, and grabbed the ripcord.
The sound of the deploying chute snapped through the wind, sounding like a rifle. The snap jolted his body as air filled the canopy. His gear tightened hard across his parachute’s straps. His legs swung forward as he grabbed and gripped the toggles, stabilizing his descent.
He glanced above him. One, two, three … He twisted and found the fourth black chute above him. With relief, he glanced down and feathered the toggles in his hands to guide the chute to the coordinates on his display. The land below him was now visible. Rock outcroppings, a distant outline of an abandoned mining complex, and dry ravines were clearly visible through the infrared that engaged when he hit 8,000 feet.
“Thermal readings are minimal.” Jug’s voice came over the comms.
“Stable surface crosswinds from the northwest,”Dude said. His deep voice was a constant in their lives.
Adjusting his pitch, Talon guided his chute to the preselected landing zone. A small depression behind a ridge, just four hundred meters from the mining camp. The ground came up fast. Talon raised his legs, bending his knees, and hit the ground, rolling over hard-packed ground and coming up in a low crouch. After a second, he unhooked his chute. The movement was practiced and done instinctively, and he was up and moving a breath later. He scanned the ridgeline, where an attack, if they were seen, would come from.
“Rally on me,” he commanded. There wasn’t any time to waste.
The mission had been hurried from the start. Panther team was at U.S. Air Base 201 in Agadez, Niger, when the British diplomat was reported missing. Intelligence sources worked together, and by some miracle, they caught a break. Hayden Pierce, the British Ambassador to Burundu, was seen being pushed into the back of a vehicle by a recently installed camera system down the street from the embassy. Guardian was tapped on the shoulder due to ready assets in the area. The diplomat had beenmissing for five hours, and they were on the aircraft with a mission to extract him.
Talon dropped the backpack and quickly assembled the drone. When complete, it was no bigger than a soup can. He pulled out the small handheld remote, and it lifted off. Only the slightest of hums could be heard from the device as it launched. He glanced at the screen as his team gathered around him.
“Weapons check,” he said as he moved the drone over the land they’d cover to get to the place where the diplomat was being held.
“Good to go.” He heard the words four times. They each carried a suppressed MK18 and a Sig 226.
“Optics, Dude,” Jug said as Talon elevated the drone. The small machine’s feed suddenly played on the heads-up displays of their clear visors.
Talon’s eyes narrowed. “Two on the watch tower at the southeast corner. Wolf, if they twitch, take them out.”
“Copy.” Wolf dropped his pack and started to assemble his marksman rifle.
Talon flew a wide berth around the watch tower and then elevated it directly above the compound. He slowly turned the device in a three-hundred-sixty-degree move.
Dude’s voice came over the comms. “Nine heat signatures, counting the tower.” He had a comprehensive view of the area, whereas they were limited to what they could see on the smaller screens.
“Satellite?” Talon asked.
