Page 4 of Hot & Heavy

After reviewing the geography one last time, Ian reminded them, "Gentlemen, this is a very important mission. Our goal here is to kill or preferably capture Jamal and the other thugs."

"Did you see this morning's Intel report?" Geek interjected, looking down at the laptop on his knees.

"Jamal was bragging on Aljazeera how he and his tangos are now personally responsible for the deaths of five hundred and thirteen men, women and children, and many thousands of injuries, tortures and rapes.

All in the name of Allah." Tango was a SEAL word for a terrorist bad guy.

"His death would be a blessing," Sly said in a deadly soft voice. "I hope I get to do the honors."

"No, no, no! The secrets he might spew out during interrogation could be invaluable," Ian cautioned.

"In other words, bring the loser back alive, if possible," Pretty Boy remarked with disgust.

"I cannot emphasize enough how dangerous this op is going to be. In effect, we'll be inserting ourselves into the middle of a rats' nest."

He was not surprised that there wasn't even a flinch at that news.

"Despite the odds, I have confidence in you all, and your SEAL abilities. Remember that SEALs are sent down rough paths, but the Navy, through your training, has provided us with good shoes." Even Ian sometimes cringed at his own motivational sayings.

"Well, holy hell, shoes won't mean squat where we're going," Omar quipped. "A camel would be more welcome."

They all laughed at the logic of Omar's observation.

"Remember those SEALs who got themselves in hot water a few years back when news photos showed them leading a bunch of Afghan friendlies on horseback," Sly added.

"Yeah, and the Defense Department had a shit fit over it. SEALs are supposed to be water warriors, and we sure as hell aren't supposed to call attention to ourselves. Those hotdogs thumbed their noses at the brass." It was JAM speaking now.

"Hey, those are friends of mine you're referring to as hotdogs," Ian said, smiling.

"Frogs and alligators have it easy," Cage drawled out. "They just eat what bugs them."

"What? You want us to eat terrorists?" Pretty Boy replied.

"Only if they're female," Cage countered, waggling his eyebrows lasciviously.

"What does that mean?" Geek wanted to know.

Laughter rippled through the room.

"Speaking of women," Ian said, "I got an alert from Intel this morning. Jamal's longtime mistress is supposedly with him. If we could nab her, she might have significant information. Plus, Jamal might be smoked out of hiding if we get her first."

They all nodded.

"Her name is Yasmine. Not sure if she's Arab. Maybe Pakistani or Lebanese. Hell, she could be an Eskimo, for all we know."

"I take it we have no physical description," JAM said dryly.

Ian shook his head. "Just that she's thirty or so and extremely beautiful."

"Oooh, I like the beautiful part," Cage said. "Can I interrogate her?"

"Get a life," Pretty Boy told him.

Cage told Pretty Boy something pretty explicit, even for Ian's ears.

Ian would have reprimanded the two of them, but he was willing to give them leeway today. Everyone was nervous. The adrenaline level in the room was sky-high, a mixture of fear and exhilaration in the face of extreme danger.

After their exercises this morning, everyone would break down their weapons, clean and lube them and then go out and test fire them. Despite the joking, this was deadly serious business.