Chapter 19
The two and a half hours felt like an eternity.
Link paced the perimeter of the safe house, checking the old wooden door every five minutes, listening for any deviation in the street’s sparse traffic.
The silence that had initially settled over the team after Noor’s revelation was now charged with anticipation, a low thrumming energy.
Finally, a faint, muffled rumble echoed from the street outside.
A nondescript white van, its paint chipped and dusty, pulled to a quiet stop in the alley behind the safe house.
Moments later, the heavy back door creaked open, and three figures emerged, moving with the weary efficiency of men who’d just disembarked a long, unpleasant journey. They wore civilian clothes, slightly rumpled, and carried small duffel bags that looked far too light for a mission of this scale.
Link met them at the door, a quick, almost brotherly handshake exchanged with each. Enzo, Jake, Thorn. Colorado Brotherhood Protectors. Seasoned, reliable. Relief warred with the urgency in his chest.
“Hey guys!” Link said, his voice low and quick, “welcome to the sandbox. Thanks for the quick response. I know it wasn’t the concert hall you were expecting.”
One of them, Enzo, a man with a neatly trimmed beard and intense eyes, ran a hand over his tired face, a ghost of a frustrated sigh escaping him.
Jake, a large, quiet man, stretched, the joints in his shoulders cracking loudly.
Thorn, lean and watchful, scanned the alley with a practiced gaze that missed nothing, even as he pulled a half-eaten energy bar from his bag.
Their expressions, though disciplined, broadcast a shared sentiment: We’re here. Now what?
Link gestured back inside, towards a crate of tactical gear: vests, rifles, helmets, that had been brought up from the hidden cache. “Gear up. Chow’s on the table; grab what you can while we run the updated plan. We don’t have much time.”
The three new arrivals moved with quiet professionalism.
They didn’t complain, though the subtle clench of Enzo’s jaw and Jake’s quick, sharp glances at the bare, dusty room spoke volumes of their abrupt reroute.
They peeled off their civilian jackets, revealing athletic builds, then began methodically pulling on the unfamiliar tactical vests and checking the weight of the rifles.
Thorn, finishing his protein bar, was already fixed on the glowing tactical displays, his eyes absorbing the information like a sponge.
As the team prepared, Link turned to Warden, who gave a brief, approving nod. “Michaels gave us the green light,” Warden said. “Black Hawks cleared for insertion and extraction. No surprises. We move fast, we move clean.”
Link nodded, the weight of command pressing down, but tempered by the solid support now gathered around him. He glanced around at the gathered team, faces tense but controlled.
“We’ve got a window,” he said, voice low but steady, commanding immediate attention.
“Helicopters inbound at 2300 hours. We launch from Jordan, land at the airstrip inside Syria around midnight, and will be fully established in the hangar by 0100. That gives us an hour to prep before the rescue kicks off at 0200.”
He let the weight of that hang in the room. “I know we’re on a tight schedule, but we’ll have a detailed mission brief with you three before we move out. For now, prepare yourselves.”
Link’s eyes swept the team, lingering briefly on the new faces, then on Shadow, Jax, and Sammy. “Between now and then: eat, rest, check your gear, and brief as needed. We move fast and clean once airborne.”
“Warden, you and your assault element, Enzo, Jake, and Thorn, are the diversion. Hard breach the main entrance, make a lot of noise, draw them topside. Nova and Spider, you’re on overwatch supporting Warden’s push.
Jax, Dog, Blast, and Tank, you’re with me.
Our objective is the subterranean entry, guided by Noor’s intel.
We find Yasmin and Amina and get them back safely to the command post. Swede is back at Montana HQ providing satellite coverage and comms support.
Real-time intel from his feed is critical—every shadow, every flicker. ”
“Shadow, you’re with Noor and Sammy in the command post. You are our overwatch commander on the ground.
We operate with two teams and two objectives: secure the girls and eliminate Faisal, if possible.
You three,” he said, indicating Noor, Shadow, and Sammy, “stay sharp and ready in the command post. We’ll keep the lines open every second. ”
Link exhaled slowly and stepped back, signaling a pause.
“Take care of yourselves. We are not done yet.”
As the team dispersed to gather food and make final gear checks, Link allowed himself a rare moment to breathe. Outside, the sinking sun cast long shadows over the quiet Jordanian safe house. The calm before the storm.