“Five by five, Standstill,” said Dulin. He pressed his ear tight into the earpiece of the satellite phone to drown out the engine’s roar. “How do you copy?”
“Loud and clear. Report your status.”
“Standstill, Fullcourt. We have the package and have exfiltrated the target location.”
“Understood. What’s the status of your package?”
“Looks like shit, sir, but he says he’s good to go.”
“Understood. Wait one,” Fitzroy said.
Dulin rubbed a gloved hand over his face and looked to the back of the cargo airplane at his four operators. His gaze then centered on the Gray Man, sitting at the end of the bench. Goggles, a beard, and greasepaint hid his face. Still, Dulin could tell the man was exhausted. His back rested against the wall of the fuselage, and both arms hung over his M4. His eyes stared into the distance. Dulin’s crew was on Gray’s right, all geared up in a nearly uniform manner but segregated from the package by a few feet of bench.
Thirty seconds later, Donald Fitzroy came back on the line. “Fullcourt, this is Standstill. There has been a change in the operation. You and your men will, of course, be remunerated accordingly.”
Dulin sat up straighter. His brow furrowed. “Roger that, Standstill. Go ahead with the update to the op specs.”
“I need the delivery of the package canceled.”
Dulin’s head cocked. “Negative, Standstill. We can’t return to the airfield. It’s crawling with opposition and—”
“That’s not what I mean, Fullcourt. I need you to... destroy the package.”
A pause. “Standstill, Fullcourt. Repeat your last?”
The tone of voice over the sat phone changed. It was less detached. More human. “I have a... a situation here, Fullcourt.”
Dulin said, his own voice losing the clipped cadence of radio protocol, “Yeah, I guess you do.”
“I want him terminated.”
Dulin’s head was propped in his gloved hand. His fingers began strumming on the side of his face. “You sure about this? He’s one of your guys.”
“I know that.”
“I’mone of your guys.”
“It’s complicated, lad. Not how I normally do business.”
“This isn’t right.”
“As I said, you all will be compensated for this deviance from the original operation.”
Dulin’s eyes stayed on the package as he asked, “How much?”
—
Five minutes later, Dulin looked towards his men while reaching for his radio’s selector switch on his chest rig. He turned the dial a few clicks.
“Don’t say anything. Just nod if you copy.” Barnes, McVee, Perini, and Markham all looked up and around. Their eyes found Dulin up at the bulkhead and they nodded as one. Unaware, the Gray Man stared blankly at the pallet of equipment in front of him.
“Listen up. Standstill has ordered us to waste the package.” Across the thirty feet of open space in the well-lit cabin Dulin saw the stunned reaction on his men’s faces. He shrugged, “Don’t ask me, boys. I just work here.”
The four men on the bench with the package looked to him, saw him to be closest to the ramp, strapped in, with his M4 rifle on his chest and his bearded face gazing at the floor of the cabin.
They looked back to their team leader and nodded slowly as one.
SIX
