Page 81 of Delta

"Yeah, nah, it's too late to butter my biscuit now, mate."

Ulrich blinks at Rush. "I do not understand this, to butter your biscuit."

I pat Ulrich’s shoulder. “Don't worry about it, U-Boat. He only makes sense half of the time at best."

"What, is it pick on Rush time?" Rush mutters. "C'mon, you two. Position three. Unless you'd rather stay here and take the piss outta me."

We belly crawl through the grass at a snail's pace, trying like hell to rustle the grass as little as possible, moving back west this time rather than eastward again. Shots ring out from the walls, but none come close to our position.

"They know we're in the grass somewhere," Chico says. "Expect to take fire, now. Fire at will from position three and move to position four at your discretion."

We're now close enough at position three that I can make out the humanoid shape of my target as he crouches on the wall, peering through the reticle of his assault rifle, sweeping the grass. We wait for Ulrich to settle in, and at his rifle's report, Rush and I open fire. This time, we rake the walls after dropping our initial targets, and Ulrich's rifle cracks a second time, and a third. The chatter of fire from the other teams overlaps ours, coming in staccato bursts. Even to me, it seems like there's more of us than there is. Activity on the wall is frenzied, figures rushing this way and that, dragging the injured out of the way, rolling corpses off the wall to tumble to the ground on the outside.

“No respect for their dead," Ulrich remarks. "Savages."

A bee buzzes angrily past my ear, a hot buzzing that's felt as much as heard. It's followed by a second and a third, and that's when I realize it's not an errant bumblebee.

"We're taking fire," I say, dropping lower in the grass.

"Noted," Ulrich says, his voice dryly sarcastic. "Let's move before near misses become hits."

We crawl straight forward this time, with bullets whipping and buzzing overhead—they know roughly where we are and can now see the grass waving and wriggling with our movements.

"The gate is opening!" Chico snaps across the comms. "Concentrate suppressive fire on the walls. Abraham, ready the Stinger."

As he's speaking, the gate in the ancient compound's wall swings open and a line of glossy black Range Rovers bolts through at breakneck speed. A figure pops up in the grass in the distance, hesitates, and then a corkscrewing streamer of whitish-gray smoke streaks into the lead SUV. The explosion shudders the earth as flames leap skyward, debris raining down for yards in every direction. The second of four SUVs has no time to react and plows into the wreckage, but the third vehicle skews sideways under hard braking, rocks off the road and bounces around the wreckage, followed by the fourth.

Another missile makes a flat arc toward the fleeing SUV, impacting its hood. The explosion sends the car flipping up and forward end over end. The last remaining vehicle tries to swerve out of the way, but the embankment is steep and it topples sideways to roll down into the grass. The nearest fireteam opens up from their position, pouring fire into the side of the upturned Range Rover. After a pause, the fireteam approaches warily to peer inside—a few minutes later, the report comes across the comms.

"It was a fakeout," I hear. "One body in each car. It's doubtful Pugli was in any of these."

That's when I hear it—the distinctive thump of a helicopter's rotors. And even to my civilian's ears, I know that's not the Osprey. Seconds later, a helo rises into the air and peels away, nose angled down as it accelerates.

"FUCK!" Rush snaps, kicking at the grass. "Bastard had a bolt hole. The fucking Range Rovers were a distraction."

The satellite phone burbles in the pocket of my vest, then. I hurriedly dig it out and move to stand by Rush, putting it on speaker. "Dad?"

"We have Eliza," Dad says. "She's safe, she's unhurt. Scared out of her mind, but she's okay."

Rush drops to his knees with a relieved sob. "Thank fuck. Oh god, thank you." He takes the phone. "Can—can I talk to her?"

"Of course. Here. Eliza, sweetheart, your daddy wants to talk to you."

A small, high-pitched, sweet little girl's voice, adorably British-accented, fills the line, then. "Daddy? Is it really you?"

“Yeah, lovey, it's me." His voice is rough and ragged. "You alright, Lizzy-Bean?”

"Well, I'm not hurt. But they were rather mean. They just smashed everything, Daddy. Even grandmama's favorite china, just because. Why did they break things, Daddy?" She says it grandmah-MAH.

"Because they're right awful bastards, that's why," Rush snarls. "They didn't hurt you?"

"I was very afraid, Daddy. They said if I didn't do as I was told they'd kill me. But I knew you wouldn't let that happen, Daddy. Where are you?"

"I'm…I'm somewhere else, lovey. I had to…the men who took you were following the orders of another man. I'm looking for him to tell him what he did was bad."

A pause. "Daddy, I'm not a baby no more. You're not going to only talk to him, are you? I'm a big girl, now. You can tell me the truth."

Rush laughs, nodding. “Yeah, sweetheart, right you are. I'm gonna…well, I know you're a big girl, but you ought not know the things your daddy does. They're not very nice."