"Then we move NOW," Bulldog insisted.
Hawk finally turned from his position watching the airfield. "We need Command approval. We need updated intel. We need a plan that doesn't get everyone killed."
"Since when do we wait for permission?"
"Since we're operating in a foreign country without official sanction and our original mission already went sideways." Hawk's voice stayed level but his eyes were hard. "I want him back as much as you do. But rushing in blind gets us all captured or killed. Then nobody comes home."
Joker spoke from where he sat checking equipment. "What if someone else gets to him first?"
They all looked at him.
"That team that breached the south wall," Joker continued. "They extracted the wife and kid. Professional operation. Well-equipped. They might have resources we don't."
"They also might be the reason Steele's captured in the first place," Bulldog growled.
"Or they might be the reason the kid's alive," Risk countered. "Steele made the call to help them extract. That was his choice."
Ghost's tablet chimed. He looked at the screen. Frowned. "I'm picking up communications. Someone's monitoring Iraqi security frequencies. Someone with serious signal intelligence capability. They're tracking the same compound we just hit."
"Who?" Hawk asked.
"Unknown. But they're good. Really good. Almost as good as me."
"Can you trace them?"
Ghost's fingers moved across the screen. "Maybe. Give me time."
"We don't have time," Bulldog said. "Every minute we wait is another minute Steele's?—"
His radio crackled. Command frequency. They all went silent.
"Delta Six, this is Overwatch. Requesting immediate SITREP on mission status. Be advised, you are ordered to return to Erbil for debrief. Acknowledge."
Hawk picked up the radio. Looked at his team. Made the call.
"Overwatch, Delta Six. Mission compromised. Target escaped. One operator MIA. Requesting authorization for recovery operation."
A pause. Then: "Negative, Delta Six. Stand down. Return to base. Recovery protocols will be assessed at Command level."
Which meant abandon the operator. Let the bureaucrats decide if he was worth saving.
Bulldog's jaw clenched.
Hawk's eyes went cold.
Ghost kept working his tablet.
Risk stood, shouldering his medical pack.
Joker cracked his knuckles.
"Copy, Overwatch," Hawk said into the radio. Then he turned to his team. "Gear up. We're going to need a plan."
Because orders were orders.
But nobody left a man behind.
Not ever.
