Page 78 of Clive Cussler Ghost Soldier

Heads shook. It was all familiar stuff to the room full of professional soldiers.

Plata handed Dragu? the markers. The bearded lieutenant drew a big oval on the board and laid out a crude diagram of the island.

Juan’s estimate of its size was fairly accurate. The irregularly shaped island was approximately nine miles long and six miles wide. About twenty-five percent of it was occupied by the city-mine.

“We have developed four training modules. The first is a shoot house located on the back of this compound. After that, we’ll take advantage of the island’s terrain for some more intense exercises.”

Juan couldn’t figure out what the Vendor’s angle was in this. He was beginning to think he and Linc really were on a wild-goose chase. They were still only a couple of days into it. Without any other leads on the Vendor, there was no reason not to give it a few more.

“Sounds quite involved for a protection assignment,” the Englishman said.

“Our primary duty will be standing guard for long hours, andriding in convoys as backup for the small national security service we are reinforcing.”

“Which national security service?” one of the Polish twins asked.

“I haven’t been told that yet. It doesn’t matter.” Plata pointed at the Englishman. “But to answer your concern, we want to raise our training tempo. We need to be prepared in the event our VIP protection turns into a hostage rescue. You have a problem with that?”

“No, sir. I rather enjoy the prospect of mixing it up.”

“Excellent. Anyone else?”

There was no response.

“These are all timed exercises,” Plata said. “I’m looking for aggression, speed, and precision. Three of you will be promoted to squad leader during the actual assignment based upon these assessments. That promotion includes a bump in pay.”

The idea of competition caught the attention of the room full of alpha males, but the prospect of more money was even more tantalizing to the gun-for-hire mercs.

“So, shall we see what you men are made of?” Plata asked.

“Let’s do this!” McGuire shouted. The other mercs cheered as they leaped to their feet in a rush of clattering chairs.

Plata smiled. “Follow me.”

39

After a short calisthenics warm-up, Lieutenant Dragu? organized the unit into six two-man squads. Juan and Linc were paired in the same unit. In addition to a superlative combat record, theOregon’s intel unit had put subtle but significant “spotter” references in Juan’s service jacket hoping this would get him joined with Linc’s advanced sniper qualifications. The ruse worked.

Dragu? then led the teams to the armory, where they were handed their requested weapons.

Juan and Linc both put in for guns that were known to have been in the Afghani arsenals, hoping to make a Vendor connection. Linc was handed a Barrett .50-caliber sniper rifle and a 9mm Glock 17 like Plata’s.

Juan was handed weapons used by his fictional character, a member of Mexico’sFuerzas Especiales. He was handed an H&K UMP chambered in 9mm along with a Glock 19. He was also given a tactical pack containing his preferred Leupold Mark 4 tactical spotting scope, a wind meter, ballistic calculator, and laser range finder.

Unable to snap any pictures, bothOregoncrewmen knew to memorize the serial numbers on their respective weapons. They would later run them against the known serial numbers in the Afghani arsenals tosee if the Vendor had access to other weapons sources. Under the circumstances, it was the best they could do.

Once everyone received and inspected their weapons, Plata marched Linc and Juan over to an improvised long-distance range, where a man-sized steel target was set up at one thousand yards. Dragu? took the other men over to a different gun range for practice.

Linc and Juan played their roles to a tee, pretending to try and assess each other’s skill sets, and familiarize themselves with each other’s equipment. After a few moments of these adjustments, they got down to business.

Linc set up the Barrett on its tripod and loaded the magazine with the giant .50-cal shells, while Juan deployed the range finder. “Nine hundred ninety-seven point eight yards,” he called out as he entered the data into the ballistic calculator. Linc called out the match grade bullet weight and speed printed on the box, and Juan entered those numbers as well.

Cabrillo then held up the advanced wind meter, which gave him wind speed, humidity, and temperature, and then loaded those numbers into the ballistic calculator. He handed the device over to Linc so he could set up his Horus TREMOR3 rifle scope properly while Juan pulled out his spotting scope. Both men inserted their ear protection and set their eyes to their respective eyepieces.

“Ready?” Juan asked.

“Ready,” Linc replied.

Linc slowed his breathing to near perfect stillness, dropping his heart rate to hibernating-bear levels, before he gently squeezed the trigger. The big rifle erupted with a deafening roar.