“Since 1600. His patrol didn’t return to the base in Amman. Search team is out.”
“I want in,” Elliot responded.
“I know. Ops room. Now.” Okafor turned to leave.
Elliot grabbed his jacket. At the door he stopped and turned. “Hudson.” He didn’t respond. He tried again. “Hudson—hey.”
Hudson finally snapped out of it and met his eyes.
“You coming?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
ELLIOT
Major Okafor filledthem in as soon as they reached the operations room. Reed’s unit was running a joint operation out of Amman. Last known position placed him eight klicks east of their operating base. Radio contact dropped at 1547. No confirmed hostile contact, no distress signal, and no visual from aerial assets before dark grounded them.
That was eight hours ago.
Hudson remained by Elliot’s side.
“This is against protocol,” Okafor said. “But when word came about the Amman patrol, I thought you both deserved to know.” He gave them a quick, compassionate look, then returned his gaze to the screen.
“Who do you know in Amman?” Elliot asked.
“Colonel Ferris. He’s running the search.”
“Does Ferris owe you anything?”
Okafor considered it. “As a matter of fact...”
They got forty minutes on an open line to the search coordination team before someone further up the chain decided the frequency needed to be cleared. Elliot spentthose forty minutes with his eyes on the grid and his hand on the back of a chair, listening to voices he didn’t recognize call positions he couldn’t do anything about.
When the line went dead, Hudson exhaled. “Okay. Ferris knows what he’s doing. They have?—”
“It’s not enough,” Elliot said.
“Let’s just?—”
“It’s not enough. They have two teams covering the eastern sector and nothing on the northern approach. If Reed’s patrol was compromised they wouldn’t have gone east, they’d have pulled north toward the ridge. That’s basic—” He stopped. Pressed his hands flat on the table. “We need more eyes on the northern approach.”
“Alright. Okafor can flag it to Ferris—” Hudson began.
“Ferris isn’t picking up.” Okafor set the phone down a few desks over. “He’s in the field.”
Elliot studied the grid. The northern approach, the ridge line. He ran the variables and none of them gave him any answers he could work with.
“I need to make a call,” he said.
Hudson shot him a look. “To who?”
Elliot didn’t answer. He crossed to the far side of the room, to the bank of landlines in the narrow partitioned cubicle that passed for privacy. He sat down, picked up the receiver and dialed.
Through the gap in the partition he could see Hudson across the room, leaning against the wall. He watched Elliot with a concerned expression on his face. Elliot’s eyes didn’t leave Hudson as the line rang.
Once. Twice. Three times.
The call declined.
