Section 8 Read Free Page B

use. Designated the LLDR—Lightweight Laser Designator Rangefinder—it could both tell the distance to an object viewed through the lens and, when needed, "paint" it with a laser beam, designating the spot as a target for smart bombs. A steady green light on the rear indicated the designator was on, although the laser was not activated. There was also a GPS—Global Positioning System—built into the device that would feed location information to the computer, in conjunction with range to the designated target, which then was transmitted to incoming missiles, directing them. It was a lot of technology designed for one purpose: to put a bomb on target within a designated three-meter spot.

Ten seconds. Vaughn heard the jet before he saw it. An F-114 Stealth Fighter roared by overhead, stubby wings wagging in recognition of the helicopters below it. Right on time. He pressed a button on the back of the designator—a double check to make sure the bomb carried under the wing of the jet and the designator were on the same frequency. The green light flickered as it made radio contact with the bomb, then returned to steady green. Good to go. Vaughn put the designator back in the pack.

The fighter pilot pulled the nose up, and the jet shot into the sky until it was lost from sight and sound. Which is where it would remain, at high altitude, out of visual range from the ground, for the entire mission. The fact that it was a stealth plane would keep it off radar screens. The pilot would never even see the island where the target was located. It was Vaughn's job to target the bomb the pilot would drop at the planned moment.

With a shudder, the Huey lifted its skids exactly on time. Vaughn turned to the Filipino commandos in his bird and gave them the thumbs-up. He noted that none of them returned the gesture, nor did they seem particularly enthused. They were going into the mouth of the dragon to rescue foreigners, not a high priority for any of them. The raid was headed to Jolo Island, controlled by Abu Sayef rebels, who he knew had a long history of kicking the Philippine army's ass. He'd worked with the Philippine army before, and found their enthusiasm level for combat muted at best. Most were in the army for the pay, three hot meals, and a bunk. Not to get killed.

Eight days ago, eighteen tourists, most of them Americans, had been kidnapped by the rebels off a sailing boat as it passed by the island. Six days ago, a video of the rebels executing one of the tourists, an American man, had been sent to a Philippine news station in Manila. The next day, Vaughn and his small group of Delta Force operatives were on a flight from Fort Bragg to the Philippines. Their participation in the raid was a violation of both Philippine and American law; thus the extreme requirements for secrecy.

He would have preferred that the entire raiding force be American—not out of any prejudice on his part, but because the Filipino commandos were not trained anywhere near the level of his men, especially at the most difficult military task of all: rescuing hostages. But compromises were a political reality that often crept into missions such as this one.

Vaughn leaned back in the web seat and closed his eyes. He could sense the fear coming off some of the commandos, especially those who had not experienced combat before. They were going to "see the elephant," the age-old military term for experiencing combat. He wasn't sure where the term came from, although he suspected it might stem from as far back as Hannibal crossing the Alps, elephants in tow to engage the Romans. He was a student of military history, and that explanation seemed to make as much sense as any other.

He mentally ran through the sequence of upcoming events, war-gaming the plan. It was too late to change anything, but he wanted to keep his mind occupied. He'd learned that it could drift to bad places if left to its own devices. The helicopters cleared the edge of the island they