Merc, only on the team for a few years, had lost his memory after a blast overseas. No one on the team had known much about his past until Reaper showed up a few weeks ago. Turned out the two had been in the same unit before joining special operations, and Merc had vouched for Reaper. But that didn’t mean Mack trusted him as far as he could throw him. Not after what had been done to him.
Hoyt Crowe stepped out from behind his older brother Jared’s shoulder and rapped his knuckles on the crate, drawing everyone’s attention to his scarred face. “We’re with you, Mack. We want that son-of-a-bitch dead just as badly as you do.” There was a round of nods and agreements from the rest of the team.
“Yeah, let’s get this bird in the air so we can kill that motherfucker before he hurts anyone else,” said Ethan Slade, Mack’s number-one tech guy.
There was no question that every single member of the team was gunning for Jack Mankel’s head.
But Mack intended to be the one to pull the trigger. As commander of his team, he was responsible for his men’s lives—a precious and awe-inspiring duty he’d failed to uphold. He’d nearly lost his team twice because of Mankel. One of his men, Shane Carter, had been left behind on a disastrous raid to rescue Mr. J. before the traitor’s true nature came to light. Now Shane was dead.
Killing Mankel would be one step toward redemption.
“Listen up, it’s a four-hour flight over the Congo before we get to his compound outside of Tanzania. We’ll be cruising at 30,000 feet when we jump. Double-check your gear, and when you’re through checking your own, check the next guy’s. We can’t afford to lose anyone because the damn pull string broke, got it?”
Mack waited for the round of agreement before continuing with his brief. “Here’s the satellite image of the location,” he said, removing it from his bag and slapping the photo on another crate. “I’ll let Hunter fill you in on the details.”
Hunter leaned in and pointed to the bunker in the center of the aerial photograph. “We’ve got confirmed spotting of Jack Mankel at this residence, along with Caroline Cotter. Gonna go ahead and tell you that someone’s carrying her in each of the photographs.”
What Hunter didn’t have to say was that Caroline was probably unconscious, which meant she’d either been tortured to the point she could no longer walk or Mankel was keeping her drugged. Either way, it was highly unlikely the girl would be walking out on her own two feet.
Hunter continued, “Riser’s got the field kit on him. He’ll get her stable enough for carry out. It ain’t gonna be easy. On the north, east, and west sides of the bunker, there are thousand-foot straight drop-offs covered in slick vines and all kinds of critters you don’t want to hear about. Which means we will be inserting and evacuating from the south.”
Hunter pointed at the large lake butted up to the north side of Mankel’s compound. Mack had never seen a setup better protected by natural barriers. Getting in there without being detected and shot would be a feat. Getting out without either being eaten alive by the piranhas in the lake or falling to their deaths from the sheer rock faces would be a miracle.
But it was also their only shot at catching Mankel off guard and this team could damn well handle the challenge. Mack had faith in his men. They’d carry out this mission or die trying.
“SWCC, Special Warfare Combat Crewmen, Team Bravo will insert here—” Hunter pointed at the far west shore of the lake, “—and meet us at extraction point A for carry out. From there we’ll travel a mile upriver and the Black Hawk team will be waiting to get us out of country.”
Mack said, “Any questions?”
“How many civilians are reported in the area?” Hoyt asked.
Mack indicated the areas just to the west and north of J’s compound. “There are local tribes in these two areas, and intel reports they will attack on sight. We’ll have to be careful to avoid them. Other than that, the place is pretty much uninhabitable.”
Which is part of the reason Task Force Scorpion had never directed their search in the area. Even if Mankel wanted to remain hidden, it was nearly impossible to survive for long periods of time in such an inhospitable environment, let alone set up a semi-permanent residence. He’d have to have twenty-four-hour surveillance and guards to protect his compound from the hostile tribes. Not to mention that the bordering Congo region was a breeding ground for murderous guerillas that hungered for wealth and weapons, something Mankel would have in abundance. And he’d need to have most of his supplies shipped in and out on a regular basis just to survive.
Jack Mankel didn’t just survive anything. One of his weaknesses was his insistence on luxury befitting a man of his stature and power.
But if he wanted to keep Caroline imprisoned, this was the place.
“Have we gathered any intelligence on the internal portion of the compound?” Riser asked.
Mack gave a nod to Reaper, casting the man a warning glance as he did so. “Reaper volunteered a detailed drawing of the compound, along with descriptions of all aboveground and subterranean levels.”
Reaper took one small step forward and every man in the cabin quieted. The air pressure in the cargo hold shrunk in his presence. This was a man who was used to killing, and it was a skill in which he was proficient.
Reaper unstrapped a long black cylinder from his backpack, took the cap off the end, and extracted a rolled piece of paper. He spread it out over the topographic map of the region. Mack gazed down at the surprisingly detailed drawing.
“There are three levels in Mankel’s compound—two aboveground, visible to your satellites, and one belowground. We like to call it the maze. Mankel resides on the first story in the southeast corner. Second story is for guests, mainly the local warlords or random terrorist cells seeking him out to broker a deal.” Reaper’s large calloused hand shifted from the first floor plan to the second. “On the first level, there are only two entrances. One here—” Reaper pointed to the front, “—and here.” He indicated a rear opening.
“Like I told you before, the entire compound is made of concrete and reinforced steel. Even the windows have automatic bulletproof shields that slide in place under Mankel’s command.”
“Paranoid bastard,” Riser muttered.
“Exactly how he’s survived so long. He’s surrounded by a three-man team at all times.” Reaper’s visage turned terrifying. “My teammates.”
Mack got a little tingle down the back of his legs, like the hairs were all standing on end from an invisible electric current. The same feeling he always got when something wasn’t quite right. It was an instinct he’d learned not to question. Reaper’s brainwashed teammates were Mankel’s bodyguards, which meant they’d be directly in the line of their attack. The likelihood of them surviving the assault was slim to none. So why would Reaper help them possibly harm or kill his team?
Mack studied the drawing more intently. Something about the last drawing, the one that supposedly showed the floor plan for the subterranean level, didn’t match with the other two. But what was it? For all intents and purposes the external elevations matched the first two floors to a T; there weren’t any areas that looked like they had been erased or altered.
