Black Site by Dalton Fury Read Free Book Online Page B

with enough clear morning light for them to stow their night vision equipment. Kolt Raynor scratched his short black beard and rubbed his gloved fingers into his temples, briefly flattening the deep creases formed by sun and wind and austere living, most of it spent outdoors. Like a coiled spring his pent-up energy refused to dissipate until released.
    Kolt Raynor was known in the Unit for making the most of his abilities. He wasn’t the fastest, the strongest, the smartest, or the most disciplined, but he was always there, always getting the job done by hook or by crook. The knock on him was that his confidence had gotten him a lot farther than his talent would ever have taken him. He was a risk taker, but even though he liked to do things his own way he was by no means a cowboy. Delta operators were team players and Kolt knew the strength in the Unit was the experience and skill of its cadre of NCOs. All in all it had served him well. That said, it certainly didn’t hurt that his friend T.J. was one of the most brilliant and dedicated officers in the Unit, and T.J. trusted and appreciated Raynor enough to run interference for him when his mouth or his exploits pushed the envelope of Delta standards and norms.
    By 6 a.m. nothing had disturbed the stillness of the gorge. White rocks, thin pines and firs, patchy snow that rose into the air and then resettled with the comings and goings of a light breeze. Raynor thought of waiting another eighteen hours for just the potential of ID’ing the target location, only a few minutes’ hump away. At any time the al Qaeda HVT could leave the area, move deeper into Pakistan or cross into Afghanistan by any one of a number of routes. U.S. military outposts just over the border had been taking a beating recently, most likely due to improved training and tactics of the Taliban fighters in the area. Fighters trained by assholes like the HVT who, according to the intel reports, was close by, but just out of reach.
    Kolt knew that if he and his men sat right here, at any moment the recall order could come, forcing him and his team back and ending what was likely to be his last incursion over the border before rotating back to Fort Bragg in a few weeks.
    No. That would not be acceptable.
    Raynor spoke into his mike. “Musket, what do you think?”
    “About?”
    “Can we make it across this little basin without being compromised?”
    “I reckon.” Musket’s minimal small talk was typical of the man from the backwoods of Tennessee. More often than not his answers were punctuated with a spit of tobacco juice.
    “You think we can find a hide in the trees on the crest of that hill that might get us overwatch on the target?”
    A slight pause. “Don’t see why not.”
    “You know that Chechen HVT could split at any time.”
    “I reckon he could do just that.”
    “I’m thinking the risk would be worth the reward.”
    A considered pause now. “Your call, boss.”
    Raynor hesitated a long time, weighing his options. Finally his chin rose slightly in the tall grass. “To hell with this. Let’s go take a peek.”
    “Right on,” said Rocky. All four rose to their feet.
    “I’ll straighten it out with T.J.” Raynor winked at Musket.
    “You always do, Racer,” replied the master sergeant as he turned to lead down the hill.
    “Fortune favors the brave,” declared Raynor, and then, “Rock, you and me first. Musket and Jet cover.”
    The major and the sergeant descended the hill carefully. Under the watchful glass of their two teammates they crossed the low thick foliage on the western bank of the stream bed, negotiated the sharp shale and quartz of the bed itself, and ascended the steep rise on the other side of the ravine. Ten minutes later they dropped low in the hill scrub near the summit and scanned the little gorge behind them while Jet and Musket followed in their tracks. When the element rejoined on the eastern hillside they spread out and ascended to within a few yards of