“Helos with GAU-2/A or GAU-17/A Gatling guns, maybe, if we have to shoot them outta the sky.” Castiel flipped through the pages of the file in front of him. “Civilian drones have a range of a couple of miles at most. That means they need to launch them from a ship. We take out the ship, then we take out the drones.”
“Not necessarily.” Max could see where Castiel was going with this. And while the plan had merit, it only did so if they knew when and where that ship was. “If those drones are preprogramed with GPS locked onto a target, then taking out the ship does nothing. It just means we have no way to cancel the flight plans and they’ll do serious damage on the ground.”
“No matter how many we shoot out of the sky, some are gonna get through.” Reese winced. “It’s a smart plan on the tangos’ part, but it fucking sucks to be the people on the ground when those things start dropping all around them.”
“Okay,” Noble said slowly, “Let’s just assume that’s the end game. I want to know the how, the who, the where.” he told Max and Noah. “I want answers. Find them.”
“Yeah, that’s gonna take a little time.” Max was already opening the dark web pages, he needed to get into the chatrooms and forums the terrorists liked to use to make contacts. “Are we assuming they reached out to the ‘Ndrangheta?”
“We already know they did,” Noah pulled up another screenshot, “Right here.”
“Dude, that’s talking about a swarm of wasps.” Max leaned back in his chair to frown at Noah.
“Yup,” Noah sent another screenshot to Max. “Here is their index.” He pointed to a line on the list. “This one right here. Wasps are drones.”
“Do we just sit here?” Rick fidgeted in place. His brain wanted to do something. Logic told him he had to wait until they had actionable intel. But waiting chafed him all wrong. Hurry up and wait sucked donkey balls. “It feels like we have bits of everything, but a whole load of nothing.”
“No,” Noble shook his head. “We’d drive Max batshit and I like to sleep with both eyes closed. Y’all can check the gear. Get ready as if we are going wheels up in twenty-four.”
“Are we in and out, or embedding somewhere?” Zenko wanted to know what kind of mission they were planning on. It would determine how much gear they needed to take with them.
“If their target remains the same, we will probably be heading to Diego Garcia.” Noble said. “However, we still have the issue of McCarthy and the drone sales. I just hope we don’t have to pick between which one we go after.”
“The drones are already on route to Afghanistan,” Max took a screenshot and put it up on the screen. “And according to this chatter, Rick is dead. His father sent the drones as payment.”
“You’re looking mighty fine for a dead man, Rick.” Reese kicked Saxon under the table trying to get a rise out of him, or to make him show some reaction to another man calling the man he wanted for himselffine. Saxon ignored Peanut. His time would come eventually. The man couldn’t live alone forever, and Saxon was going to make sure that payback was a bitch.
“What a dick.” Saxon ignored Reese’s pouting at his failed attempt to wind him up, and instead looked at Noble. “Tell me we can shoot him?”
“Rick’s father or Peanut?” Zenko tossed a balled-up piece of paper at Saxon but hit Rick instead.
“Neither.” Noble decided. “I’m considering asking Claudio if he wants to move Black Squadron to this base.” He held up his hands to ward off the barrage of questions that hit him with that revelation. “We’ll put it to the vote when this shit is done. Then it depends on orders and approval from above.”
“Him?” He pointed to the image of Rick’s father on the split screen. “I think not right now, we need to figure this shit out first. At least if they think Rick is dead then they aren’t coming for him.”
“I’ll take it.” Rick muttered. “For now. But the asshole is gonna want to see a body.”
“Which is why your ass is on lockdown here.”
Saxon nodded.Thank fuck… someone with braincells.Keep the one who is targeted out of the line of fire. He should have known his boss would see the logic in that.
“My specialty is recon down range.” There was no freaking way was Rick sitting here twiddling his damn thumbs if there was a job he could do. “You would be an idiot to leave me sitting here if you are going to intercept those drones.”
Say no, boss, say no.Saxon didn’t dare say what he was thinking out loud. Either Rick or Noble would kick his ass. Possibly both. Rick for being an overprotective asshole and his boss for trying to influence his decision. But if Black Squadron did move their headquarters here, what would that mean for him and Rick? He didn’t dare examine the possibilities too closely just yet. There was way too much to be done before they could consider anything that may happen after this mission was done.
“I’ll take it under advisement.” Noble would not be pushed, no matter what credentials and qualifications Rick had. Noble as Commander of Red Squadron would do what was best for his men. “I have my own recon team.”
“Red Squadron is a strike team, not recon.”
“Don’t fucking argue with me,” Noble growled. “I am the Commander, that means this is my house. In my house you follow my rules. I don’t know what way Claudio runs shit in his house. But here, you do as I damn well tell you.”
“Bu—”
“Leave it, R—” Saxon stopped talking when Noble turned his gaze onto him. His boss was in Commander mode and laying down the rules and regs. He knew better than to draw attention to himself.
“We aren’t doing jack until I have authorization from further up the chain.” Noble scrubbed his hand over his hair, scratching the back of his head. “As much as that sucks and as much as we may not like it, we have to play by the rules. Getting you back from the mafia? That I could do.” he told Rick. “When it comes to landing in a war zone to follow up on that shipment, we need permission.”
“Yes, Sir.”
