The Navy Seahawk carrying Lara, Jack, and Terrell streaked north to meet the Delta choppers at the embassy. They should arrive in time to see the takedown in progress. Lara was betting that Rimoux had an escape planned. She intended to hunt him down and make him pay for what happened. The trio sat crowded against the rear bulkhead in stone silence. 

The helo sonarman, a 18 year old sailor on his first cruise, stared openmouthed at the sight. Two dirty and grimy SpecWar types in camo fatigues and an amazingly beautiful woman in a leotard and shorts, all carrying enough firepower for a small war. No one would believe this one. 

Jack stared blankly out at the lush veldt, sliding under them at 180 knots. The spring rains had started and he could see wildebeest grazing in the fields. It was a beautiful sight that meant abslutely nothing to him at that moment. 

Lara gently touched Jack's arm, bringing him out of his reverie. She spoke to him soothingly. 

"Jack, I am sorry. I gathered you two were close mates." 

"Yeah, we were," Jack replied, his expression unchanged, the words coming slowly. "We met at the Special Warfare School. I was a know-it-all second lieutenant fresh out of West Point. He was a combat decorated Ranger sergeant. Boy, did he set me right. We graduated in the same class and were assigned to the same A-team. When the Gulf War broke out, we were among the first to go." 

"He spoke of a Euphrates Highway? What was that about?" 

Jack continued to stare at the beautiful countryside. As he spoke, Lara could almost see his story unfold before his eyes like a movie. 

"We were sent on a mission to locate and kidnap Saddam's nephew. He was the commander of the Republican Guards in the Basra region. The insertion went off without a hitch. We set up a hide site just off the highway. E-8 runs all the way up to Baghdad and we knew that our target would be coming down that route. Well, the next morning, this little girl walks right up and opens the cover of our hole. Just opens it up big as life to see what was inside." Jack chuckled to himself at the irony. 

"We couldn't very well shoot her. So we tried to convince her that we wouldn't hurt her. She ran and got her father and he understandably freaked. He called the local gendarmes and before you know it, we were surrounded by 150 Iraqi soldiers and 4 T-72s. Me, D.C. and four other guys in a ditch against all that. We called for extraction but weather was keeping most of the air war on hold that day. No one was flying. It took six hours for a chopper to come get us. By the time we were pulled out, every one of us had been wounded at least once. The chopper crew reported seeing more than 100 Iraqi bodies around us and two of the tanks were out of comission." 

Jack rubbed the dirt from his eyes as he continued. "D.C. was responsible for half of that. You should've seen it. All that fire coming in and he's calmly picking off targets one by one with his M-16. Took two tanks out by shooting their drivers. They all abandoned their tanks after that. When Schwartzkopf heard about it he put D.C. up for the Medal of Honor. Colin Powell stopped it because of the secret nature of our mission, downgrading D.C. to a Silver Star instead." 

For once, Lara had no words. 

"D.C. never mentioned it after that. Never saw a need to. It wasn't a big deal to him, y'know? Just doing his job." Jack took a long look outside, taking in the spectacular sunrise. 

"Just doing his job," he repeated to himself. 

****************************** 

TWENTY-FIVE MINUTES LATER: 

Jenny was rushing back from the ladies' room to her table. Her boyfriend had just ordered their drinks and Sonny Rollins was about to start his third set. An ardent jazz fan, Jenny didn't want to miss a note. It had been six months since Sonny had played the Blue Note and she was determined to be here. As much as she enjoyed the evening, however, she was constantly thinking about Lara and worrying. This mission was different from the others and to Jenny, far more dangerous. Her beeper hadn't gone off all night which she took as a good sign. If anything happened, she would be one of the first people contacted. 

As she came around the bar to her table, Jenny caught the TV in the corner of her eye. CNN was on and it seemed like something was happening. She stopped to take a look when her beeper went off. Checking the number, she pulled her cell phone from her purse and dialed. 

"Munroe", said the clipped British voice on the other end. It was Niles Munroe, Lara's chief of staff, in his London flat. Jenny guessed it was about 6:00 AM there. 

"Niles, it's Jenny. You paged?" Jenny's eyes were fixed on the TV and growing wide at what they saw. The opening strains of "Oleo" coming from the stage drowned out the sound but the pictures told everything. 

"Right, Jenny. You have a telly about? The morning news is on here and you won't believe what's happening." 

"I'm watching it here, Niles," Jenny shouted over the music. "My God. Do you think she's involved?" 

"What do you think? It's Lara we're talking about. She's in this up to her eyeteeth. I'm heading to the estate straightaway. Where are you?" 

"On my way to her apartment. Talk to you soon, Niles". Jenny shut off the phone and waved her boyfriend over. Hopefully they could still get a cab at this hour. 

****************************** 

"This is Paul Aronoff reporting live from Nairobi at the scene of the U.S. Embassy hostage crisis. The scene being played out before me is absolutely stunning. I have never seen anything remotely like what I am witnessing now." 

As the reporter spoke, the cameraman kept the Embassy building in his viewfinder, broadcasting what he was seeing live to the whole world. There were dozens of other camera crews around the building, all transfixed on the event unfolding before their eyes. Behind them ran a cordon of police, taken completely by surprise and barely able to contain the crowds that were screaming and pointing. 

Barely a minute ago, the morning quiet was shattered by the sound of many rotor blades. Suddenly the sky was filled with sleek, dull back helicopters, swooping in low over the Embassy. Some hovered over the roof while ropes fell out and armed men slid down one after another. Thirty men were on the Embassy roof within seconds. Other helicopters hovered low over the street, disgorging more men who ran in a mad dash for the main doors. Two smaller helicopters began circling the Embassy like hornets, marskmen training their long rifles out the side hatches. 

A loud BOOM from the roof and a burst of gunfire caused the crowd to begin screaming and pointing in astonishment. The next instant, the Embassy building was obscured by smoke and the sound of gunfire and explosions filled the streets. 

Delta's Gold team was running this operation. The plan was fairly straightforward. There is an old military maxim that says it's easier to fight down than up, so it was decided the best way to hit this target was from the roof. The plan called for thirty shooters to hit the roof and make entry. Fifteen men would take the third floor, entering through the fire escape. Fifteen more would enter the second floor via the outside. Fifteen other men were dropped to street level to seal all exits and clear the first floor, where the hostages were. 

The location of every terrorist in the building was known and constantly updated by Delta's surveillance teams surrounding the building. They were in radio contact with the shooters and vectored them to their targets. It was far from a fair fight, which was the way Delta wanted it. 

The top floor was cleared first. Fifteen Delta operators flooded through the fire stairs into the corridor, splitting into five three-man elements. One element covered the stairs while the other four each headed for a corner sentry. It was over very quickly. 

At the same time fifteen more shooters rappelled to the second floor. Using grenades and steel pipes to breach the windows, they made entry and began clearing the rooms. There were eight terrorists on this floor, already alerted by the noise outside. A vicious firefight broke out among the offices and hallways on this floor. It lasted almost five minutes and when it was over seven of the terrorists were dead and one incapacitated. One Delta shooter was severly wounded. 

The first floor was where the greatest potential for disaster existed. Not only was it the location of the hostages but the Delta shooters had to gain entry by running from their helicopters, which would leave them exposed for several critical seconds. For this reason, the job went to the fastest sprinters. They made it to their entry points in record time and gained entry to the first floor with only one injury, an arm cut by falling glass. Once inside, two of them came under withering fire from three terrorists in the main lobby. One shooter, a master sergeant whose parents were immigrants from nearby Uganda, was killed. The other dove behind a steel desk while returning fire. It was enough to force the terrorists to head for cover only to be cut down by two more Delta shooters who had entered through a side window. Two more terrorists were killed in the rear portion of the floor near the kitchen entrance. Almost a dozen shooters worked their way forward, converging on the main dining hall and the hostages. 

In the lead was Major Ronny Buckman, the operation commander. Behind him were his security element, Sergeants Vince Edwards and Howard Gatlin. They came up to the rear door to the dining hall and stopped, waiting for everyone to get into position. 

"Now! Hit it!" Buckman ordered. There was no hesitation. Any pause in the assault could give the terrorists time to kill hostages in that room. This was the true nightmare scenario. Having been prevented by the Nairobi police from placing listening and viewing devices in the room, the shooters were going in blind. They didn't know the location of the hostages or any terrorists in the room, whether any boobytraps existed, or if any furniture had been moved. Such details take on life-and-death significance in this situation. 

Responding to Buckman's order, Edwards kicked the door open. He dove left, Buckman going right and Gatlin left again. Captain Billy Hicks' element did the same thing through the main door on the opposite side of the room. 

The hostages were all crowded against the outside wall, screaming in terror at the sudden appearance of six black-clad armed men. Some dove for the floor, others just stood, frozen in panic. The shooters did as they were trained, shouting at everyone to drop to the floor. They had to get control of this crowd quickly and determine if any terrorists were hiding among the hostages. A dirty secret in the hostage rescue business is that many hostage casualties are caused by being shot by rescuers. Delta and similar teams in other countries operate on the assumption that anyone still standing is a target. The last thing Buckman wanted was to shoot a hostage in a moment of confusion. 

Fortunately, all the hostages dropped to the floor obediently. Buckman took a second to look them over. He spotted some members of the senior Embassy staff, as well as prominent British and Kenyan diplomats. They seemed uninjured but fatigued from their ordeal. He was relieved to see that no terrorists were in the room but there was no sign of the Ambassador. More Delta shooters and paramedics rushed in and began the process of getting everyone ready to go to the waiting helicopters. Buckman reported all the hostages secured on his radio.

Other teams began to report in now that the shooting was over. All in all, eighteen terrorists were reported down, one of them still alive but not expected to make it. One Delta operator was dead and two were wounded. The grounds around the embassy were being searched and snipers in orbiting helicopters were checking the perimeter. Three Blackhawk helos came in and landed in front of the Embassy to receive the hostages. After being put in handcuffs and searched, the hostages were filed out to the helos and flown back to Mombassa. All the hostages were secured and in the air quickly. The entire operation lasted thirteen minutes. 

****************************** 

Lara, Jack and Terrell enjoyed a ringside seat, watching the whole operation unfold from their hovering helo two hundred meters away. Jack was able to describe the action to Lara as it happened. They could hear the shooters' reports on their headsets, letting them monitor the progress inside the building. 

Lara listened intently, hoping that no hostages would be injured. She was also listening for any sightings of Rimoux in the building, fearing he might escape. He was cunning and ruthless and would not hesitate to leave his own men in this situation. 

Eventually, calls of "Clear" began to trickle into the radio chatter. Then they heard Buckman's report that the hostages were secure and saw the helos come in to collect them. They all breathed a sigh of relief. Jack and Terrell were euphoric at their comrades' stunning success. This was definitely Delta's finest hour. 

Lara turned to Jack. "Can we contact the men on the ground? I need to know if they've found Rimoux." 

"Sure," Jack replied. Keying his mike, he announced, "Gold One One, this is Reebok. Are you there, over?" 

They could hear Buckman's sarcastic voice in reply. "Reebok, Gold One One. What are you doing on this net, Kraemer? You in town this weekend, over?" 

Jack smiled. "Yeah Ron. We saw the whole thing. You guys rocked. Listen, my consultant here says the leader may still be at large. Can you give me a description of the bad guys?" 

"All black Africans, male, early to mid 20s. Sound right?" 

"Gold One One, this is -- er, the 'consultant'", Lara interjected. "You're looking for a Caucasian male in his mid 40s. Tanned and fit looking. Probably well dressed. He's French." 

"Nope," came the quick reply. "That guy is not in this building." There was a pause. "I think you folks need to get over here ASAP." 

Jack tapped the Navy pilot on the shoulder and pointed toward the Embassy complex, still smoking and surrounded by helicopters. 

"Take us in," he ordered. 

CHAPTER 12