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“There’s a plan in place, unfortunately, they didn’t have time to get somebody with any experience to execute this plan, so it’s going to be up to us to make him look good. We’re going to be taking a private plane to Batman so that the President’s newly appointed Assistant Secretary of Energy can meet privately with the CEO of a petroleum company in Batman. Our story is that there have been terrorist death threats if this meeting goes through, which is why it must be done privately, and that’s why we’re here. All of this is bullshit. This guy who is supposedly the Deputy Minister of Energy just finished law school and started with the CIA here in Turkey two months ago, but he’s done a lot of community theater, so everybody thinks he’ll do great. We’re going to liaise with him as soon as we go inside.”

Kostya looked at each of his men, waiting for any comments.

Ryker finally raised his hands. “Do we know if it was Shakespeare, musical theatre or what? Because it makes a difference.”

Kostya gave him an icy look. “Any pertinent questions?”

Ryker shook his head.

“Okay, now for the next part of this mission. The reason for the meet with the CEO is that our CIA contact works as the secretary to the CEO. She is the most valuable asset that the CIA currently has in the country. Langley wants to do everything they can to make sure she is not compromised, but for this mission, if she has to be, so be it. This is the only angle they could think of that would allow her to be in constant contact with us so that it would not seem out of place.”

“How much does our theatre buff know about energy?” Jase asked.

“I’m betting nothing,” Kostya answered. “They might have drilled a hole in his skull and poured in some data in the last twelve hours, but that’s it.”

“Is it possible he could have an assistant?” Jase asked.

Kostya caught on. “How much do you know about the energy industry?”

“From the age of thirteen to almost sixteen my dad worked as a project manager in Houston to construct an offshore oil derrick. I learned a lot about the petroleum industry.”

“You’re hired.” Kostya turned to Ryker. “Okay, Mr. Smartass, you’re the one in charge of finding things for this team, I don’t care how you do it on an Air Force base, but find him some peanut butters in his size. If you have to spend money, I’ll reimburse you, if you have to do something else…well, we’re leaving pretty quick, so don’t get caught.”

“Aye aye,” Ryker answered.

Now this is a job I can sink my teeth into.

“Does this mean I’m excused from the meet and greet with the thespian?”

“Dismissed.”

Ryker handed his backpack to Jase with a grin, pulled up the map of the Incirlik Air Base on his phone and headed for the nearest PAX Van Shuttle service stop. He was only three stops away from the command center. Gideon wasn’t the only one who liked to be prepared. As he was hot-footing it to the stop, he did a group text to the Whiz Kids. These were the three comp/comm men from three other SEAL teams that he knew could get him technical or any answers if Gideon was unavailable. He’d learned this when some crazed psycho was trying to blow up the world a couple of months ago. He hadn’t tapped them yet, but now was the time.

Ryker: This is Ryker McQueen from the Omega Sky SEAL team out of Little Creek. Currently at Incirlik Air Base in Turkey. Need the name and phone number of the highest-ranking noncom who doesn’t have a stick up his ass.

Dex Evans: Now?

Ryker: Ten minutes ago.

Dex Evans: I’m out.

Ryker looked at his phone, willing another text to come in as he wiped the sweat off his forehead while he stood at the stop for the shuttle.

Kane McNamara: I’m on it.

Thank fuck!

The shuttle arrived and he climbed aboard. It was standing room only.

He still didn’t have an answer when he got off the shuttle ten minutes later. He pulled up the map of the base again to get his bearings, then headed toward the command center.

Come on Kane, I’m counting on you. Come on.

Ryker was closing in on the command offices. He needed to show up to a warm contact. He saw the sign to the Men’s Room, and he took it. It was empty, so he went to the last stall and dropped trou, sat down, and stared at his phone praying that Kane would text him…soon.

Kane McNamara: Roger Eastman, Air Base Wing Command Chief, Chief Master Sgt. Two sources give thumbs up. Turkey country code +90, his number 202-555-0000. I’ve already called to expect you.

Kane was getting a bottle of bourbon for this. Didn’t matter that he was wealthy as shit, Ryker knew a guy. He hadn’t heard anyone come into the bathroom so he pulled up his pants, pushed out of the stall, and made the call.