Running the Maze Read Online Free PDF Page B

so we will have to go after him. High-value target. Gunny Swanson, you have anything to add?”
    Swanson was the sharp point of the Trident spear. “No, sir.” His eyes drifted to the window, and the memory of September 11 came back. “No questions at all.”
    The general closed a briefing folder. “Right. Get to work. I want a plan within a week, and to have Swanson on the ground over there in two. Figure out what and who you need, and pull whatever resources are required. Keep it simple, because we’re not planning an invasion of Yemen, just a cleanup job on a stupid asshole terrorist. Send any questions to me.”
    The Lizard shut down the security measures, the big dead bolts slid back to unlock the doors, and the five members of Task Force Trident drifted away. As soon as Sybelle Summers returned to her desk, her cell phone buzzed. She looked at the screen with a small frown, not recognizing the number of the caller. “Summers,” she answered with no inflection in her voice.
    “Lieutenant Colonel Summers? This is Petty Officer Second Class Beth Ledford, the Coast Guard sniper?” The voice was hesitant and carried an undercurrent of worry. “When you lectured our special ops class about a year ago, you gave me this number to call if I needed some extra help?”
    Sybelle remembered the meeting. She had felt an immediate affinity for Ledford, the lone little blonde trying to fit in among a classroom filled with tough-guy warriors from all branches of the armed forces. Everybody in the room had seemed at least a foot taller than Beth Ledford, who stood five-six and weighed about 115 pounds soaking wet, but the records revealed the young woman had the best shooting scores in the entire class. Summers had taken her out for a coffee afterward, and a sister-to-sister talk about succeeding in careers dominated by men.
    “Well, hello there, Petty Officer Ledford. Sure I remember you,” Summers said, changing her tone from distant to neutral. “This is a surprise. What’s going on? You quit the military and joined the circus yet? Little Sure Shot?”
    The offhand compliment did not bring the laugh that Summers expected. “I have a problem, Major. It’s not a glass ceiling thing, I would never call you for something like that, and I can’t discuss it over the phone, so can we meet up for lunch today? Please? It’s important.” The briefest of pauses. “National security kind of important.”
    Sybelle sat up straight and snapped her fingers a couple of times, and Kyle Swanson looked over. “Lunch, then, Beth. Since we will be in public, drop the rank thing and come in casual civvies. I’m bringing someone else along.” She gave the name of a pub in Crystal City. “See you there in forty-five minutes.”
    Swanson had wandered over to her desk by the time she finished the conversation and hung up. “Go put on some real-people clothes, Gunny. I’m taking you out to lunch with somebody I want you to meet, another sniper.”
    “Who?”
    “You’ll see.” While Kyle went to change, Summers briefed General Middleton on the conversation and the planned meeting. His eyes twitched when she said the words “national security,” and he nodded silent permission to meet the source.
    THE UNITED NATIONS, NEW YORK
     
    T HE CLATTER OF SILVERWARE against good china was drowned out by the polyglot of voices in the Delegates’ Dining Room on the fourth floor of the United Nations Headquarters in Manhattan. Men and women in business attire that would be acceptable back in their home countries helped themselves to the cuisine served at the long buffet, which today featured a mildly spicy menu from the lower Pacific Islands. Sunlight bathed the huge room where the administrative staff workers from the 192 member states that made up the United Nations frequently had their lunches. Although the dining room was open to the public, the dress code of no jeans, shorts, or sneakers usually frightened away American tourists.
    There