Pandora's Grave Read Online Free PDF Page B

intercom. “Buckle up, people. We’re coming into Q-West.”
    Thomas reached for his seatbelt, glancing out the window. The lights of the airfield twinkled below them, like bright stars in the night. They were almost there.
    He could feel his heart begin to beat faster, the adrenalin start to flow through his veins. They would be in battle soon. It was a good feeling.
     
    “Wheels down,” the pilot announced.
    Harry closed his laptop computer and put it back in its carrying case. It wouldn’t be going into the field with them. There were too many things that could go wrong with a piece of electronic equipment. They would be back to the tried and trusty stubby pencil and notepad, each member of the team memorizing the role he was to play, learning it like some actor in a movie—except for them it was serious, the stakes incredibly high, the price for failure equally so. To fail, was to die. There was no middle ground.
    If something went wrong out in the desolate mountains of Iran, that was the end. No one would be coming to rescue them.
    Their country would refuse to acknowledge that they even existed—that they ever had been her citizens, much less her warriors. That was the whole idea. Deniability.
    Even if the mission was a success, if they made it back to the extraction zone with the missing archaeologists, they would receive none of the credit for it. They would slip away like wraiths into the night, going back to their jobs until the call came again. Glory was dangerous.
    There was no one waiting for him back in the States, no one to inquire into the circumstances of his death. He had a brother—but he lived in Montana. They saw each other only a few times a year, and all too often Harry was gone when his brother came calling. A brother, a sister-in-law, a nephew, they were all the family he had left. Little enough.
    He had known brief relationships with women in the past, sometimes with women he had known in Cypress, other times with female analysts at the Agency. Never anything of a lasting nature—as much as he had tried. The girls from Cypress couldn’t be told what he did for a living. The analysts knew all too well, and the skills that enabled him to survive in one world barred him from the other.
     
    “Roger, Charlie-Bravo-Six-Papa-Niner, taxi to Runway Three.” The air traffic controller switched his headset off and turned to the man at his side.
    “They’ve arrived, sir.”
    Colonel Luke Tancretti nodded. “I’m going out to meet them.” He pushed the tower door open and strode out into the darkness. Qayyarah-West Airfield looked a lot different than it had when he had first been deployed four years ago. Then the runway had been pocked with huge craters, craters made by American bombers during both Gulf Wars. This was his first visit since his transfer to AFSOC. In truth, he had never expected to return.
    But this was where he was needed, and so this was where he was. It was as simple as that.
    By the time he got to the back of the huge transport, the five men he had been expecting were already descending the ramp, spread out, moving as though they were already on the battlefield, their stance belying the uniforms they wore.
    “Colonel Henderson, I presume,” Tancretti said, looking to the man nearest to him.
    The tall man nodded. “That’s right. Here are my identification papers.”
    He took them, glancing over them briefly. They were forged, of that he was sure. The Air Force Academy had never produced a colonel like the man that stood before him. He looked up and managed a smile, playing out his part of the charade.
    “Everything appears to be in order, colonel. I’m Colonel Luke Tancretti and welcome to Q-West.”
     
    6:34 A.M. Local Time
    A cottage above Lake Galilee
    Israel
     
    “So, that’s the situation at the moment, sir.”
    “Nothing’s changed.” General Avi ben Shoham brought his clenched fist down onto the desk beside him, swearing angrily. “Eight days. And