Fear and Anger (The 47 Echo Series) Page 26

  “I’ve been up 38 hours straight. I may be forgetting some of my Midwestern manners.”

  “Can’t do shit about the coffee, but have the rest of my smokes,” Christopher said, handing over what was left of the pack to his driver.

  “We make do with what we’ve got. Like Nick would say, Marines improvise,” Bryce said, taking the pack and pulling one out with his teeth.

  As his driver lit the smoke, Christopher thought – for what seemed like the hundred and twelfth time since this mission began – what would Nick do? But this time, instead of trying to figure out what his best friend would do if he was in command of the unit, Christopher finally realized – this was his unit now. Nick might not ever come back. Nick had his own style, his own way of doing things... but so did Christopher. And it was time he started acting like it.

  “Listen up, everyone,” he said, standing and turning to face his crew. “I think I know how we’re going to breach that other Razor.”

  Chapter Forty

  Rat Fink

  The “rest of the crew” Hardy spoke of was two other guys. One was a white guy, about 5’10”, muscular but only recently so – he still had a chubby baby face. The white guy’s head was shaved and he was dressed in convict BDU pants and a black Smirnoff Vodka T-Shirt. Hardy introduced him as Gil Harlan.

  The other guy was tiny, maybe 5’ 2”, and Nick would have been surprised if he weighed over a hundred pounds. He was dressed in regular Army ACUs a size too large for him, and though the nametape said “Dietz,” Hardy introduced him as Andy Cruz. He didn’t look particularly Hispanic, but growing up in Southern California and Texas, Nick had met Mexicans that looked like any other white guy on the street.

  “His real uniform was covered with blood,” Harlan explained, though Nick hadn’t asked. “We found this one just stowed here in the Razor.”

  That seemed odd to Nick, but he’d seen stranger. He and his crew had once loaded up in a Cougar assault vehicle that was home to a family of angry snakes. Weird shit turned up in the vehicles from time to time, and a spare uniform wasn’t that strange... but the story definitely tried to raise a red flag in Nick’s brain before he shrugged it off.

  “Who’s in charge here?” Nick asked.

  “That’d be me,” Harlan said, closing the door and checking the displays next to the driver’s station. “Larry, we’re almost back up to full power. Good job.”

  “Still got that one stealth panel out,” Hardy said.

  “Not sure there’s much we can do about that, and we’ve been stationary for way too long,” Harlan replied, turning back to Nick. “Unless you know how to fix it, sir. No offense, though, but I’d be surprised if you did. This is the only Razor of its type that I know of, and Larry tells me you crewed a lot of the old model... but the stealth in this one is next-gen.”

  “Fix it? No, not necessarily. But I might be able to help you patch it. You have any damage to the camera systems?”

  “Thankfully, no,” Hardy said. “I’d hate to try to ride under stealth blind.”

  “We had a bigger panel than this go out once on one of the regular Razors,” Nick said, crossing over to the camera station and tapping on the console. “The touch screens in these bad boys are TFTs. They come out pretty easy with tools, and they’re really thin. We could patch a TFT screen from one of the nonessential systems over the panel, hook it up to the opposite-side camera feed, and effectively old-school stealth the bad area.”

  “Larry? Can you do that?”

  “If the LT will help, that’s something I could put together in about 20 minutes.”

  “I know officers don’t like to get their hands dirty, Lieutenant, but if you could help us out here... well, I’d appreciate it. We have a mission to complete – which I just realized you’re probably now in charge of,” Harlan said, squinting.

  “And what’s the mission?”

  “We’re heading to Pyongyang,” Cruz said. It was the first thing Nick had heard the small man say. Harlan silenced him with a look.

  “We’re to deliver all manner of pain and destruction to the NoKo capitol,” Harlan said. “And we’re behind schedule.”

  “It’s your mission, man. I’m just hitching a ride. I’ll pitch in where I’m needed,” Nick said.

  “Then let’s get on that patch.”

  Nick nodded and pulled the tool kit from under the camera station. He and Hardy worked with minimal conversation, and while he removed the four-foot square of undamaged TFT from the mostly-wrecked comm station, Nick had time to think. The red flags were starting to raise again, and as happy as Nick was to have some American backup, he couldn’t silence his doubts as easily anymore.

  First off, for no reason he could pin down, Harlan just creeped him out. It wasn’t the way he’d shut Cruz up without saying a word – most commanders Nick knew could do that when they wanted to. Nick’s unease was more broad, a general feeling that something was off with this guy. He couldn’t imagine anyone at Command putting this guy in charge of a mess hall, much less a brand-new prototype.

  The Razor was another red flag. If this was the only one of its type, why would it be this deep in enemy territory? If something like that was even anywhere near the battlefield, it would be crewed by a custom-trained team of real military. And even then, if it was truly one-of-a-kind, it wouldn’t be deployed on a general mayhem mission. Either Harlan wasn’t being totally truthful about the mission, or...

  Was it possible he wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near that Razor?

  Nick had plenty of suspicion, but he knew suspicion wasn’t enough to act on. If he was wrong and took these guys out, he’d be responsible for the failure of their mission, which wouldn’t be a great thing for him – it’d probably land him back in a regular old convict unit. In any event, he knew he needed to get the stealth up and running as best he could. Just from the little he’d seen of it, this new Razor was definitely some next-level shit, and he couldn’t let it just sit there until a North Korean patrol happened upon it and captured it. The American forces’ stealth technology was the only advantage they had on the Chinese and North Koreans – if they got their hands on this prototype, they could reverse-engineer it and end the war in about ten seconds. Better to get the Razor up and rolling and keep an eye on Harlan and his crew for now.

  Hardy had estimated 20 minutes, but he and Nick had the panel installed and patched into the cameras in 18. It wasn’t perfect, but it was better than nothing.

  “Of course, this won’t stop electronic signal links,” Nick said as they headed back into the Razor.

  “I assumed it wouldn’t,” Hardy said, “but we’ve been running silent all mission anyway. And the comm station’s junked, so we couldn’t even link comm traffic if we wanted to.”

  “We good?” Harlan said from the passenger seat.

  “Good to go,” Hardy said.

  “Andy, get us moving. Fast as we can manage. Lieutenant, we’ve got Ops patched to the camera station. If you don’t mind pulling double-duty –”

  “On it,” Nick said. The camera station was a good place for him to be – right behind Cruz in the driver’s seat. It was as good a place as any to watch Harlan like a hawk, and a nice central location in case they decided to turn on him. He stowed his stolen Chinese assault rifle in the rack next to the crew’s M-16s – another red flag, as the Razor should have been loaded with M4s – but kept the Type 77 pistol he’d stolen from Chen in his belt, concealed under his Kevlar vest. If he had to make a move, he wanted a gun handy.

  It felt good to sit down, even though he wasn’t entirely comfortable with the guys he’d ended up linking up with. His foot had stopped bleeding, but the entire leg had switched from shooting pains to a dull, constant throb. He wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad sign.

  If he’d been back with his own crew, he might have asked Gabriel for a mild painkiller just to turn the volume down on the throbbing. Nick wasn’t about to trust these three enough to ingest anything they might g
ive him, though, even if he still couldn’t put his finger on a reason. He’d just have to work around the gimpy leg if shit went bad.

  It was quiet in the Razor as they rolled down the long, flat highway – almost silent. Nick was exhausted, and the comfortable chair at the camera station was making his eyelids droop, even with the overwhelming sense of unease he felt around Harlan and his guys. There was no way he’d let himself fall asleep in that situation, so he reached into his cargo pocket for his trusty bottle of Dexedrine. It was still there, right next to his hand radio. As he took the pills from his pocket, though, he noticed the hand radio had smashed into a couple of pieces. He figured he must have broken it when he put the stolen motorcycle into a slide.

  Oh, well. Not like I was expecting any calls anyway, he thought as he gulped down two pills.

  “Painkillers?” Harlan asked. He’d silently moved to Nick’s right shoulder at some point in the last few seconds. His voice was a low, creepy almost-whisper, and Nick felt his skin crawl.

  “Nah. Stimulants.”

  “Aha. Noticed you had a bit of a limp there. You all right?”

  The words were hollow, devoid of any feeling. Nick just nodded and pasted on the same smile he used to employ when dealing with difficult clients back in his construction-foreman days.

  “It’s fine. Wrenched knee. It’s not really bothering me.”

  Harlan gave no response. He just returned to the passenger seat and stared out at the road ahead as if the conversation hasn’t taken place. Out of nowhere, a conversation he’d once had with Christopher popped into his head.

  Nah, Martin’s crazy, but at least he’s not a sociopath, Christopher had said shortly after their explosives specialist had joined the unit. Know how I know? Dude gets genuinely angry about stuff, and genuinely excited about other stuff. Sociopaths can’t do that. They don’t really experience any emotions. They just mimic what they see others do, and a lot of times it’s a bad imitation.

  Christopher had minored in Psychology in college, so he wasn’t just talking out of his ass. He’s gone on to explain that a sociopath would stab them all in the back if it would benefit him, but since Martin was just a garden-variety nutjob, they probably didn’t have to worry about him.

  It clicked for Nick as the pills traveled down to his gut to join way too many of their brethren – Harlan was a sociopath. He’d manufactured his concern for Nick, but there was no empathy behind his words. He’d seen someone show concern once, and he was just mimicking the action. That was why he creeped Nick out – the guy was museum-quality insane.

  When the shit goes down, Nick told himself – now sure that it was no longer a possibility, but a certainty – shoot that creepy motherfucker in the head first.

  They rolled on for a few hours in near silence. Only Hardy spoke up in all that time, letting everyone know that they’d just passed a North Korean listening post and apparently hadn’t tipped off any alarms. Neither Harlan nor Cruz responded.

  Then, just shy of nightfall, Hardy spoke again. This time, it wasn’t a flat-voiced, boring status report. This time, it was a panicked shout.

  “Shit! Gil! Those... uh, those guys from earlier! They’re back!”

  Chapter Forty-One

  Disorder and Disarray

  Christopher was used to everyone in the crew looking at Martin as if he was insane, but it was a new feeling to have his people looking at him in the same manner.

  “That’s... I’m not sure that’s possible, Chief,” Mary said after a few minutes.

  Christopher had explained his plan, at least the broad strokes of it, and had been met with stares, blinking, and silence. He half-expected the rapidly fading Ranger to wake up, tell him he was an idiot, and fall back into his medically induced coma.

  “Look, I’ve pulled more armed-robbery jobs than I can count,” Christopher said, “And everywhere has some sort of security system. Sure, the new Razor’s system is more complex, but it’s the same principle, right?”

  “Yes and no,” Mary told him. “I mean, yes, if you mean it operates on the idea of electronically locking out everyone but those who are supposed to have access... but the system is contained entirely within the Razor, which we can’t get inside.”

  “Stop thinking like an Air Force computer tech,” Christopher said, shaking his head. “Start thinking like a criminal again. Every company that makes a security system says it’s unhackable, unbreakable, and uncrackable. And then some meth-head with a screwdriver gets in and steals everything that’s not bolted down.”

  “We do have all of the specs on the ELR from Dr. Auffrey,” Daniel added. “If anyone can find a weakness in the system, it’s probably you, Mary.”

  “Exactly,” Christopher said. “There’s a way in. We just have to find it. And I think I know where to start.”

  “If you could share that info, I’d appreciate it,” Mary said. “Their comm system isn’t working, and the laser system is send-only. I don’t know how we’d get a signal to their system to shut it down.”

  “The stealth leak,” Anthony said. “There’s a way in there, if we could just find a way to use it.”

  “Bryce!” Christopher yelled up to the front of the Razor. “How’s the nav system on this thing work?”

  “Mostly hardwired,” Bryce called back. “Data overlay on existing maps. Every so often, it corrects using any available GPS it can get its hands on.”

  “So it gets a signal in, then?”

  “Holy shit,” Mary said, shaking her head. “I don’t believe I didn’t think of that. We hack in through the GPS. Remember what Auffrey said he was in charge of?”

  “Systems integration,” Bryce said.

  “Right. And he had a big job. The nav system routes to every other system on the truck, sharing data with operations, comm, stealth, even cameras. You never know where you’re going to need to call up a map, and it’s just silly to load the same map data into ten different stations.”

  Mary was talking fast now, swiping through pages of schematics on her touchscreen. She found the layout of the nav system and stopped, her eyes flicking across the screen as she continued.

  “If I can get access through the nav system, even if I don’t make it any further than the driver’s station, I might be able to kill the engine. That makes a stationary target, at least. But if I can shut the whole thing down... give me twenty minutes, Chief. I’ll have something for you.”

  “That’s the criminal mastermind I keep bragging about,” Christopher said, smiling genuinely for what felt like the first time in ages.

  “Hell of an idea, Chief,” Bryce said as Christopher slid back into the passenger seat.

  “I have my moments.”

  “Modesty doesn’t work on you, Chris,” Bryce said. “I hate to say it, but Nick would have never thought his way down that path. This works, and we have a real chance of saving our asses here.”

  “What’s the plan if we get them stopped, Chief?” Peter asked.

  “Full-on assault. We get Mary to pop a door, and we shoot anything that moves inside the truck,” Christopher told him. “Try not to hit anything essential in the Razor, since we still gotta drive it back, but... no one comes out of that truck alive.”

  “My kind of plan,” Peter said. “My suggestion? Me, Daniel, Mikey. Daniel takes the long shots while me and Mike just tear the hell out of everyone with SAWs.”

  “That works if we can drop the rear hatch,” Daniel said, walking up to stand next to Peter. “But say we can only get a side door open? Then it’s one man at a time.”

  “You’re right. We’d need a Plan B. Plan C and D and E, depending on which door we can open. And a Plan F if we can’t crack any of ‘em,” Bryce said.

  “That’s your job, Pete. Work up each eventuality. I want assault plans in the next ten minutes.”

  “You’ll have ‘em. Mikey! Get down here and help me figure out these schematics,” Pete yelled up to the gun turret.

  “Martin – I want a way inside
that Razor if all we can do is shut it down. No ‘it can’t be done,’ clear? Figure out a way.”

  “It can’t... shit. I’ll see what I can do,” Martin grumbled.

  “Looks like you’re getting the hang of this whole ‘leader’ thing,” Bryce said quietly as the rest of the team got working.

  “We’ll see. I’ve always been able to talk a good game,” Christopher said.

  “Hey, man. Sometimes being a good leader and talking a good game are the same goddamn thing,” Bryce told him.

  Christopher had never thought of that, but it made a certain sort of sense to him. He suddenly remembered something Nick had told him once, something he thought his friend had been joking about at the time. Now, he wasn’t sure.

  How do you come up with this shit? Christopher had asked after Nick laid out an unorthodox attack plan on a heavily defended Renegade airfield a year back. You’re always the man with the plan.

  Fuck if I know, Nick had told his friend, smiling and lighting a cigarette. I’m making this shit up as I go along, man.

  Christopher grabbed a bottle of water from his console and found it empty. Bryce wordlessly handed him a half-full one from his side of the cabin, and Christopher took a long drink. Maybe, he realized, that was all command was – fake it until you make it. Take a gamble and hope like hell it worked out. Nick always seemed confident about his plans, and that’s why Christopher and the rest of the unit had no problem following them. Perhaps that was all he needed – a fucked-up idea and the confidence to sell it to his team.

  For the first time since he’d taken over the unit, Christopher didn’t feel like he was a fuckup. For the first time, he felt like a real leader.

  He liked the feeling.

  * * *

  “That’s all I’ll be able to guarantee,” Mary told Christopher, her voice low so only he could hear her.

  “If that’s what we’ve got, we’ll make it work,” Christopher told her. “Excellent work.”

  “I mean, I might be able to do more, but...”