Rogue Forces

Guzlev holstered his .45 with an exasperated shove. “Balls, I thought I was going to have to shoot the fucking bastard after all, Cizek,” he cursed. “He’s going to look like shit on television.”

“All the better,” Cizek said. “If he can’t or won’t do it, I’ll read it myself.” He stepped toward Guzlev. “Rescind that phase one and two withdrawal order and be prepared to march on Irbil. If one peshmerga fighter, Iraqi soldier, or American—especially those robots and Tin Man creations—pops his head out just a centimeter, I want a squadron of jets to blow them all straight to Hell.” He thought for a moment, then said, “No, I’m not going to wait for those robots and the Tin Men to come after us. I want Nahla Air Base shut down. They think they can kill a thousand Turks and just march away? I want the place leveled, do you understand me? Leveled!”

“With pleasure, Hasan…I mean, Mr. President,” Guzlev said. “With pleasure.”

ALLIED AIR BASE NAHLA, IRAQ

THE NEXT MORNING

Following the memorial service for the fallen soldiers from Second Regiment, Patrick McLanahan, Jack Wilhelm, Jon Masters, and chief of security Kris Thompson escorted Vice President Ken Phoenix to the flight line, where a newly arrived CV-22 Osprey tilt-rotor aircraft was waiting to fly him to Bahrain.

The vice president shook hands with Wilhelm. “You did an outstanding job out there last night, Colonel,” Phoenix said. “I’m sorry for your losses.”

“Thank you, sir,” Wilhelm said. “I wish we hadn’t gotten sucker-punched like that, but I’m glad the Turks decided to call the cease-fire, pull back, and start negotiations. It’ll give us a chance to fly our boys home.”

“I’ll feel better when you’re all home, safe and secure,” Phoenix said. “Thank you for leading these men and women so well.”

“Thank you, sir,” Wilhelm said, saluting.

Phoenix returned the salute. “I’m not in your chain of command, Colonel,” Phoenix said. “I don’t rate a salute.”

“You stood with my troops, you took enemy fire, and you didn’t start crying, whining, ordering us around, or getting in the way,” Wilhelm said. “You earned it, sir. If I may say so, you looked very…presidential.”

“Why, thank you, Colonel,” Phoenix said. “Coming from you, that’s high praise. Lousy politics, but high praise.”

“Good thing I don’t do politics, sir,” Wilhelm said. “Have a good trip.”

“Thank you, Colonel.” Phoenix turned to Patrick and shook his hand. “I don’t know when I’ll see you again, Patrick,” he said, “but I think you and your team did an extraordinary job out there last night.”

Thank you, sir,” Patrick said. “Unfortunately I still don’t think it’s over, but a cease-fire and a pullback is definitely good news.”

“I read your plan for action against Diyarbakir,” Phoenix said. “I don’t think there’s any chance the president will approve it, especially when he learns it comes from you. But I’ll talk to him about it.”

“We can put it into action in less than a day, and at the very least it would send a message that we’re serious.”

“That it does,” Phoenix agreed. “I’d also like to talk to you about this company of yours and your incredible weapon systems like the CID, the Tin Man, and those electromagnetic rail guns. I don’t know why we’re not fielding thousands of them.” He looked at Patrick with a puzzled expression, then added, “And I’d like to know why you have them, and not the U.S. Army.”

“I’ll explain everything, sir,” Patrick said.

“I doubt it,” Phoenix said with a wry smile, “but I still want to talk to you about them. Good-bye, General.”

“Have a safe trip, sir.” The vice president nodded, loaded aboard the CV-22, and the big twin rotors were turning moments later.

It was hard for Patrick to hear at first over the roar of the Osprey’s twin rotors in full vertical takeoff power, but he did, and he opened his radio. Wilhelm was doing the same at that very moment. “Go ahead, Boomer,” he said.

“Bandits!” Hunter Noble shouted. At that moment the air raid sirens sounded. “Two formations of ten bombers, supersonic, just crossed the Turkey-Iraq border, headed this way, five minutes out!”

“Get the Osprey out of here!” Patrick shouted. He waved at Jon Masters and Kris Thompson to follow him. “Get him the hell away from the base!”

Wilhelm was shouting into his radio as well: “Shelters, shelters, shelters!” he cried. “Everyone into air raid shelters, now!”

As they ran for open ground, they could still see the CV-22 as it took off and headed south. At first its flight path looked totally normal—standard climb-out, gradual acceleration, smooth transition from vertical to turboprop flight. But moments later the Osprey banked hard left and dove for the ground, and they could hear the engines whine in protest as the big transport changed from turboprop to helicopter mode. It dodged left and right and made a low approach to a group of buildings in Tall Kayf, hoping to hide in the radar ground clutter.