Wolf was a stud in every sense of the word, but particularly with regard to his tactical prowess. Whether it was spotting IEDs or booby traps or just finding shit hidden in plain sight, Wolf had a sixth sense that I had never seen in anyone else.
He zigzagged across the yard and in no time was leading usdown a well-worn path toward the beach. The white lights from Team Rhino showed recent footprints in the sand heading toward the water. I couldn’t tell how many sets of tracks, but it was clear that at least three or four people had moved in the same direction from the path to the ocean.
Wolf spotted something in the sand and JP moved to investigate. “Check this shit out,” he called over. “It’s a fucking hand—like inJaws. These SOBs cut off some poor bastard’shandand just left it on the beach.”
By the time I reached him JP was down on his knees, examining the bloody appendage in the soft wet sand.
It was a surreal tableau.
My mind raced in a feeble attempt to classify what kind of enemy would commit a series of acts that could only be described as pure evil.
We moved in tactical formation back up the hill. Oliver and Meg returned from their thorough search of the downstairs, and we took one last look at the bodies. All told, the final count was three dead agents, two dead staff members, and one dead (and nearly naked) female in the bedroom upstairs. We had no way to identify these people by name, but it was obvious who was Secret Service and who was on Harrison’s staff.
Back at my place, Meg fired up her laptop and connected to the CSTC secure site to see what she could find. Oliver dumped a bag full of cell phones and notebooks onto my kitchen counter, all of which the team had collected from the senator’s place, and began to inventory them. JP and Wolf took notes, gathering the facts we knew.
My phone rang. Tristan calling back. “Hey, buddy, have you heard anything?” I asked.
He had—and it was bad. A ferry from Hyannis to Nantucket with at least 100 people on board had exploded just inside the channel to the Nantucket Boat Basin. Every Coast Guard ship was out searching for survivors. What’s more, Nantucket Memorial Airport was on fire from multiple explosions on its east-west runway.
A small motel near the airport that the Secret Service was using as an alternate command post and temporary barracks had exploded as well. With the fire and rescue vehicles all at the harbor, the airfield was completely shut down; no fixed-wing aircraft could come in or take off.
Had I not just walked off a kill zone myself, I wouldn’t have believed a word he said.
“Listen closely,” my boss instructed. “I’ve got two birds in preflight right now. They have your number and will be in touch on the secure frequency.”
“Tristan, I think whoever did this has kidnapped and tortured Senator Harrison. I don’t have all the proof, but we can confirm multiple KIA and a human hand down by the ocean. They must have headed out to sea.” I gave him more details as quickly as I could to fill in the blanks. “I also have reason to believe they may have abducted a Secret Service agent, probably the special agent in charge.”
We were in unprecedented territory. However we decided to respond to these attacks, it was clear the decisions were going to go straight up the chain of command.
“Nat, I’ve already spoken with the people in DC,” Tristan confirmed. “Rocket’s Red Glare is a go, immediately. The secretary of defense is working with the attorney general and theWhite House to green-light other special-operations forces to interdict any future attacks by what they are calling a terrorist threat. But for now, buddy, Team Rhino is all we have to save this man’s life. You have command of this rescue mission. Bottom line, brother: You need to figure out pretty fucking fast how to find this ship and take it down. Do you copy?”
“What about the missing Secret Service agent?”
I knew the answer already, but it was one of those preprogrammed questions we always ask.
“Senator Harrison is the priority.”
CHAPTER 46
International Waters
Twelve miles east of Nantucket
The Zodiac sped over the surface of the Atlantic. The ocean was unusually calm and the team of assassins had little difficulty navigating the dark waters. Even with the light chop of the waves, the visibility was good.
The team leader scanned farther to the east, looking for the signal in the dark night. He checked his watch. They had been on the water for forty-five minutes. The linkup should be close.
He pulled out a cell phone and hit speed dial. After two rings, the call was answered and two red lights appeared over the bow. The Zodiac was a quarter mile from the ship.
The next phase of their operation was more critical than the last.
CHAPTER 47
Baxter Road
“We need eyes in the sky, Meg. How soon can you connect?”
My team had transformed my living room and kitchen into a working operations center, almost as functional as the one we’d left in Baghdad.
