Operator - 01 by David Vinjamuri Read Free Book Online Page A

of our people are electronics and communications experts, but we need shooters for our direct action arm. They perform reconnaissance and infiltration assignments and provide security support for our field teams. If you join us, your life expectancy will be shorter than that of a North Sea Oil Driller. Most of your work will be alone. You will go into places that we haven’t dared to send in a team so you can map it out for them. It’s crazy work. But you will save lives. Every time you hear about a miraculous hostage rescue or a terrorist leader being killed, you will feel proud to have served in the Activity, even if your contributions are never publicly acknowledged. Do you understand?”
    I nodded slowly. I knew this was a one-time offer. If I said no, I’d never see this man again. “What happens to my Army benefits if I join?” I asked. Part of the question was practical – I needed to know if the check I was sending home would shrink. The more significant question was unspoken: If I die, what happens to the benefits to my family if I’m not officially in combat?
    “When you join the Activity, you’ll be assigned to a clerical division in Virginia and promoted to the rank of Master Sergeant. The increase in base pay will help with the loss of combat pay. Your record after you leave Special Forces will not reflect your real duties and you will no longer receive medals or commendations. If you expire in our employ, your death will be listed as a training accident and your family will receive normal death benefits, plus a supplemental check from an anonymous Army veteran’s support group every month for twenty years.” Alpha paused. When he spoke next, it was with genuine compassion. “I’m very sorry, but I need your decision here and now, son.”
    There was nothing to decide. It was a dream job. “I’m in,” I said, trying to sound stoic.
    “I’ll be in touch from time to time but you won’t see me again for at least five years – and only then if you’ve done damned well every step of the way. Some of the places we’ll be sending you have high attrition rates. Army Ranger School alone fails almost fifty percent of its students, half of them in RAP week, for example. So the odds are very good that you and I will never meet again. On the other hand, if I’ve assessed you correctly, you don’t give a shit about the odds.” Alpha stood up slowly and shook my hand, looking directly into my eyes for another moment. As I left the office, the short hairs on my neck stood on end. For the first time since I’d left Conestoga, I felt a sense of purpose.
    * * *
    “Son of a bitch, that’s a solid eight-pointer,” Buddy Peterson whispers, peering through a rugged-looking set of binoculars.
    “It’s also seven hundred yards away with a fifteen knot cross-wind,” I counter, not bothering to keep my voice low. From this distance, I might as well be in another state as far as the deer is concerned. I track the antlered buck through the Leupold scope I’ve mounted on the bolt-action Winchester Model 70 rifle in my hands.
    I wouldn’t have chosen to use this particular rifle at all, but I never for a second dreamed that I would end up hunting deer on my first trip back home. It’s not even deer season yet in Greene County. We’ve driven two hours north to Saratoga County in the Adirondacks, the chain of mountains north of the Catskills in upstate New York. My first instinct was to back out of the trip altogether and when the call came from Jeff at four-thirty this morning; I had my excuses down pat. I told him I’d be happy to join but unfortunately I didn’t have a hunting permit, a rifle or suitable clothing with me. I hadn’t imagined that all of those obstacles could be overcome before 5am on a Sunday.
    “No problemo – way ahead of you,” Jeff replied without hesitation. “I got you a permit at Stokeley’s yesterday afternoon – they still had your information on file. Amelia found your