Ghost Recon (2008)

He took a deep breath. "Everyone, listen up."

"Captain, wait," said Diaz, staring through her binoculars. "Got a small boat coming from the sand spit. Looks like that Zodiac launched by the patrol boat. One guy on board."

"Who?"

"Can't see him well enough yet."

"Beasley? Jenkins? Target that boat. Get ready to fire."

"Roger that," said Beasley, trying to balance his rifle atop the shattered piece of hull he was lying across.

"Diaz?" called Mitchell.

"He's turned again, coming right at us. Wait. I see him now, but something's wrong. Aw, no."

Chapter Thirty-five.

ZODIAC

XIAMEN HARBOR, CHINA

APRIL 2012

Ta

At the moment, the outboard's vibration was the only thing keeping him awake--that and the idea that he was the only guy left who could get the team home. He had to hang on for a little longer. He turned slightly, saw one of the Ghosts watching him through a pair of binoculars.

Behind them, the night sky was already washing down from mottled black to purple and pink. They were nearly out of time.

Ta

Only five minutes prior he'd loaded Phillips onto the Zodiac. His friend was already dead, and just as Ta

Ta

Grimacing in pain and barely able to move, Ta

Now, as he drifted toward them, he tried to raise his hand and wave but instead swam forward into the darkness.

FISHING BOAT WRECKAGE

XIAMEN HARBOR, CHINA

APRIL 2012

"It's Ta

Mitchell had, over the years, voiced his criticism of SEALs, Force Recon Marines, and air force combat controllers. Army Special Forces were, in his not-so-humble opinion, the most accomplished warriors in the world.

But as he watched the Zodiac drift forward, he choked up with a newfound respect for Ta

He spat again, smacked his lips, and rattled off his orders: "All right, Nolan, get in there, see how he is. Beasley, tie up the bodies to the sides, then we help the wounded into the boat. Everyone else hangs off the side. Smith, you take the outboard!"

"Roger that!" he cried. "But you're wounded, too, Captain. Up in the boat."

Within two minutes they were sputtering across the harbor, unable to gain any real speed because of their added weight and friction. The Zodiac had been designed for six, not nine Ghosts, two SEALs, and two CIA agents.

Being dragged through the water was begi

"I hear you, sir!" he shouted over the outboard. "But where's Montana?"

The image glowing on his tactical map confused him; it appeared that the submarine, outlined in yellow with green ID diamond, was on their position as they finally cleared the gap between Gulangyu Island and Haicang.

"Son, she's closer than you think: forty-five meters straight down."

Mitchell almost laughed with relief. "How long's she been there?"

"Too long. Captain Gummerson's taking one hell of a risk, Mitchell. When the drink tab comes, I suggest you buy."

"Roger that, sir. Can't wait to get home."

USSMONTANA(SSN-823)

EN ROUTE TO SUBIC BAY

SOUTH CHINA SEA

APRIL 2012

The transfer from the Zodiac to the submarine was handled with speed and practiced efficiency, a testament to Gummerson's first-rate crew. The bodies of Buddha, Boy Scout, and SEAL Chief Phillips were taken away by corpsmen for processing, while the wounded were escorted to sick bay and given additional treatment, including Mitchell himself.

Ta

As they headed out toward that rendezvous point, the captain came to sick bay to see Mitchell and shake hands with every Ghost, save for Ramirez, who was sedated. "Congratulations, Captain."

"Thank you, sir. I'm sorry about SEAL Chief Phillips."

"We all are."

"Chief Ta

Gummerson nodded. "Glad I got my chance to thank you. Outstanding job, Captain." He frowned over a thought. "And what was that stunt you pulled with the Predator?"

"My marksman came up with that one, although she said one of the pilots inspired her."

"Ah, that would be Lieutenant Moch, whom I would not describe as inspirational, but I'll accept that." Gummerson offered his hand. "It was an honor, Captain."

"Thank you, sir. Good luck with your promotion."

Gummerson glanced fondly at the bulkheads and overhead, then pursed his lips and headed out.

KEATING RESIDENCE

NEAR MACDILL AIR FORCE BASE

TAMPA, FLORIDA

MAY 2012

Two weeks after the operation in China, Mitchell was invited over to the general's house for a Sunday di

They sat on Keating's second-story back porch, overlooking the kidney-shaped swimming pool with adjoining spa and rock waterfall. The mosquitoes were kept at bay by a colossal screen room behind which stood a towering wall of palm trees sashaying in the breeze.

Keating leaned back in his ornate patio chair, puffing on his Cuban cigar. Mitchell, who didn't smoke, sat beside him, clutching the drink the general had thrust into his hand after pouring two.

"You know, sometimes this job lets me slip home to a quiet di

"I've never had it."

"Then you haven't lived."

Mitchell breathed in the Scotch, took a gulp, then savored the intense burn until he embarrassed himself and coughed.

Keating chuckled under his breath.

"It's good, sir," Mitchell said, holding back tears.

The general removed his cigar and gri

"Money talks. We can't afford war right now."

"Me, I would've made it happen. Force the issue in the Pacific, play it out. But then again I'm army. The navy sees things differently."