HostageGirl: We're trying to get a feed out to one of the networks. We've got their video gear. Susie's figured out how to feed to the Internet. She says she needs a server link point.

"Is this what I think it is?" Laurie whispered.

"Yeah, it looks real," Tom said, panting.

"GIVE 'EM OURS!" she shrieked. "How did they get free?"

"Some guy named Ghost broke them loose," Tom said, typing furiously and hitting Send.

FoxieTom: THIS IS TOM G.o.dWIN, A PRODUCER WITH FOX NEWS. EVERYONE GIVE ME A SECOND WITH HOSTAGEGIRL, PLEASE.

FoxieTom: HostageGirl, first of all, glad to hear that everyone is okay so far except Clarissa. That's already in the news in case n.o.body told you. Tell Susie, the URL link for Internet vid is 126.10.05 and the pa.s.sword is GoFoxy. Everybody, you can'tlinkto that, so stay away from the URL. HostageGirl, once you do the link, we should have two-way video and audio.

HostageGirl: Thanks, Ghost said we could only link to Fox. I guess he's a fan.

FoxieTom: Who is he?

HostageGirl: I dunno, just a guy. Said he tracked us here. He killed the guards and now . . . I've got to think about what I can say and what I can't according to Thumper.

FoxieTom: Thumper?

HostageGirl: He hung nicknames on some of the girls who are helping him. Thumper's one of them. He also calls her "Bringer of Fire." He's . . . really weird. I don't care. He save my life, all of our lives. I'll forgive him everything for that. They're over by the door singing some song about "How many of them can we make die!" now.

DingBat111: COOL. That's "March of Cambreadth"! Very good song for what's going on!

"I'll look up 'March of Cambreadth,'" Laurie said, "and tell video that there's a live feed coming in from the hostages. Jesus, I can't believe I just said that!"

"Power of the Internet," Tom said, and chuckled, going back to the chat session.

"Welcome back to Fox and Friends, I'm Linda Braums filling in for E.D. Don . . . Gl . . . Hill!" the female anchor said. "The following is hard to believe but true. The hostages from Athens have been . . . partially rescued and are now using the terrorists' own video and Internet equipment to send out live pictures from the room where they were being tortured. We have a direct link to them over the Internet and are now going to be speaking to them, live. Be aware that . . . they were stripped as was seen on the horrible video the terrorists already released and they don't have access to clothing. And we cannot blur out in real time. So . . . I am speaking to Heather Carter, a journalism student at the University of Georgia.

Heather, can you explain what happened?" The view changed to a shot of the face and upper chest of a young woman whose hair was horribly mussed and whose face was dirty but very pretty.

"Well, Linda, it was pretty confusing at first," the girl said, her face tight. "We'd . . . been present for Clarissa's . . ." She paused and shook her head for a second.

"Ordeal?" Linda prompted.

"I suppose that's a word to use," Heather replied, gulping and closing her eyes. "And then they took a break, a fairly long one. I think they'd decided to . . . take their time to let the word get around. Anyway, they started on Rachel . . ."

"It's probably better if we don't use names of victims, Heather," Linda said, tightly. "Not until their families can be informed."

"This is going to get tough," Heather said, grimacing. "They started on another girl. And they'd, well, they'd done most of the things they were going to do to her, short of some of the end stuff . . . when the door burst open and this guy just came in and started killing them. I mean, just killing them. One or two shots per person, almost like an execution. Mr. Halal, who was the guy leading them and doing a lot of the torturing, tried to take the girl on the table hostage and Ghost just . . . played with him. Shot all the other people, acted like he was negotiating, except he was really insulting, and then he shot him through the head. He released some of us and gave us the key and he and, well he's been organizing our defense ever since. He said this was a WMD facility, by the way, and I trust his word because he also said he used some of their chemical weapons against them. 'Tossed a VX grenade through the door' is what got back to me. I don't know which door. And he blew up the plant or whatever, we heard the explosions, then got ready to defend us. According to Mr. Ghost, the U.S. government is aware of our location and on its way. But we have to hold on until they get here. So . . . tell them to hurry." The view cut back to the Fox crew, who were looking pretty stunned.

"Heather, Brian here," one of the male anchors said, being the first to recover. "Is 'Ghost' with the U.S.

government?"

"I don't know," Heather admitted. "He said he tracked us here, not how or why. Just something about being on an airplane and a truck. Getting bent, whatever that means, in an airplane."

"Is he special operations?" Brian asked. "Ranger or SEAL?"

"Uhm, Brenda said she thought he was a Ranger," Heather replied. "She used to have a Ranger boyfriend and he was always saying 'hoowah'. Mr. Ghost made us all say 'hoowah' before he'd release us."

"Hewhat?" Linda gasped.

"He made us all give him a big yell 'hoowah,'" Heather said, shrugging and bringing nipples almost in view. "He said he needed help and if he couldn't get a big hoowah, we weren't worth saving. I think . . ."

She paused and frowned, then shrugged again. "It had been . . . really terrible. Really really terrible. And a lot of the girls had just gone, like, out of it. I think he was trying to shock us back to reality or something. It helped, in a way, and I'll never think of hoowah the same again, that's for sure."

"Okay," Linda said, frowning. "I guess I wasn't there and I won't judge."

"Oh, no, judge," Heather replied. "He's like some icon of everything girls hate about men. s.e.xist, overbearing, foulmouthed, insensitive to an amazing degree. And as soon as some of us get over what's happened in this room, to Clarissa and some of the rest of us, he's going to get screwed to death. If this is what it takes to keep this," she said, waving at the room, "from happening, then I'm all for it.

Male-dominated society? Screw that, this room,thisis male-dominated society. America'sheaven compared to this room, compared to these people. And if it takes guys like Ghost to keep us safe, then I'm all for it. When I get back I'm going to go to the ROTC department and kiss every single person in the building." She paused and grimaced. "I'm not going to haves.e.xwith any of them, because I don't want to see a d.i.c.k for a long time, but I'm going to kiss them. Even the girls."

"Heather," Brian said, carefully. "It sounds like you've had, well, a life-changing experience in more than one way."

"If you mean politically," Heather said, frowning, "you bet your a.s.s. I'm a journalism major and a card-carrying liberal. At least, I was. I spoke out against 'Cliff's War on Terror' and protested and all the rest. Theh.e.l.lwith that. This is every decent person's war on terror, every American's war on terror, especially everywoman'swar on these Islamic motherf.u.c.kers. Nuke these f.u.c.kers. Nuke every G.o.d d.a.m.ned one of them. f.u.c.k the 'religion of peace.' I won't shed a tear. And I'm going to vote Republican the rest of my life!"

"MR. SECRETARY! MR. SECRETARY!".

"Calm down!" Brandeis said, waving his hands. "Let me make my statement first. Yes, we were aware that there was an agent in place. We were aware that the girls were being held somewhere in a building we code named Aleppo Four, which was a suspected site of WMD design and possibly construction.

We had been in contact with the agent, Codename Ghost. He was to find outwherein the facility the girls were being held, because otherwise we suspected they'd be killed while the special operations team was looking for them. We lost contact with him and he apparently determined that the plight of the girls was so severe that he had to take action. He, apparently, sabotaged the WMD facility and somehow made his way into the section housing the girls and rescued them. This is fromyournews reports; we don't have contact with him at this time. There was a plan to retrieve the girls that was waiting on his report. When we noted the activity at the facility, we put the plan in operation. It is ongoing at this time. That concludes my statement. I will now take salient questions."

"Mr. Secretary!" one of the reporters shouted. "How long until-"

"I saidsalientquestions," Brandeis snapped. "That means questions I can answer. I'm not going to give you a timetable because then the Syrians will have it."

"Mr. Secretary," a female reporter said, waving her hand. "The Syrians have denied responsibility and . .

"Lady, I've been looking at Predator drone footage for the past hour," the secretary said, shaking his head. "The Predator has been watching the whole incident. The call was tracked by technical means to Aleppo Four. NSA has traced the video link to Syria. The girls are in Syria. This is an act of war. We're going to treat it as such. Embeds are going to accompany the relief forces. You'll be able to see for yourself where the girls were being held. So, please, don't bother believing the Syrians, they lie about what they had for breakfast. I'm tired of the news media being enamored of the Baghdad Bobs of the world. When we tell you something, it's the truth or the best we can determine of the truth. Just about everything that you get from our enemies in the Middle East is lies. So would youpleasequit spreading the lies andmaybespend some time spreading the truth? The truth is, fifty girls were kidnapped by terrorists, not freedom fighters, not militants,terrorists. They were loaded on a plane in the Athens airport, flown to Algeria to refuel, in a section the government has spotty control of, by the way, then flown to an airbase in Syria, transported by truck to Aleppo Four and have been held in an underground room, stripped, tortured, raped and murdered. This is thetruth. This is the face of our enemy. This is what the War on Terror seeks to end. And we are going toendthis particular battle by pulling the girls out and turning Aleppo Four into a smoking crater. As a WMD facility, a secret one that has been used in an act of war, we could, under our guidelines, do that with nuclear weapons. It would not even count as 'first use.' A biological agent is WMD. Chemical weapons are WMD. Nukes are WMD. We consider all of them equal. Keep that in mind. Keep that in thefrontof your mind. Nukes equal gas equals germs. One single Sarin round used on our people or our troops means we can destroyanythingin the supplying country with nuclear weapons and all our nuclear release procedures are satisfied. Just because we haven't done that in the War on Terror, doesn't mean we won't."

At that the room went silent until one of the reporters raised his hand.

"Does that mean the U.S. intends to use nuclear weapons on Syria?" the reporter asked quietly.

"That means that use of nuclear weapons is fully on the table at this time and is being discussed by such persons as are entrusted to their release by the American people," the secretary replied. "It does not mean the decision has been made. However, the American people are, justly, furious at this action, especially such an action by a member of the UN Security Council. And the President intends to place a war declaration before Congress. When it is pa.s.sed, and I suspect it will pa.s.s with acclaim, our actions are free. We are, thereafter, free to make full war against Syria at a time and place of our choosing."

"Mr. Secretary, redirect," the same reporter asked. "Does that mean we intend to force a regime change in Syria?"

"It means that, at a time and place of our choosing, we can engage in any form of war we deem necessary," the secretary said. "The government of Syria had better think about that carefully. They not only supported this action, they maintain control of the Bekaa Valley, which is a hotbed of terrorism. We have solid evidence of links to Al Qaeda, not guesses, not rumors, solid evidence of links at the highest level. Syria is going to have a breather after this to consider what they want to be in the international community. And if they continue, in any way, shape or form, on the course they have laid in the past, then, yes, we will force regime change in Syria byanymeans we determine necessary. We will not ask the UN. We will not go begging the French and Germans to support us.Wewill wage war with every weapon,everyweapon, in our a.r.s.enal. That is the determination of the National Command Authority. And we're not lying, bluffing, kidding or considering. That is thedecisionof the National Command Authority.

They seriously screwed up when they thought they could kidnap young American girls and torture, rape and kill them to force us to withdraw. Nothing,nothingcould have been more stupid."

"Mr. Secretary," the reporter said, frowning. "One of the tenets of fighting unconventional warfare is that the weaker side tries to cause an overreaction from the stronger so as to get sympathy. And Al Qaeda has stated that they are trying to cause an overreaction from the West in order to bring about the Great Jihad. Wouldn't the use of nuclear weapons be an overreaction?"

The secretary considered the reporter for a moment and then smiled, evilly.

"Tell that to the Mongols." There was a stirring amongst the group and he waved a hand and walked out.

"What did that mean?" a female reporter asked her more experienced colleague.

"When the Mongols invaded the Persian Empire," the guy said, frowning slightly, "which stretched through most of the Middle East, they killed four out of five inhabitants in the region. Laid waste to cities, destroyed wells and irrigation so that civilization could not exist. They killed every single resident of Baghdad, for example. The term was 'they made a desert and called it peace.' What he just said was that the President is furious enough to nuke the entire region."

The female reporter thought about that for a moment, thought about the few seconds, all she could watch, of the video of Clarissa McCutcheon being raped and tortured. She thought about beliefs she had held dear, of att.i.tudes she felt were solid in her bones. She thought about what it would be like to be a woman in that room and nodded.

"Good." She paused and shrugged. "Do you think they can get them out?"

"It's going to be tough," the regular Pentagon reporter replied. "I was talking with some sources. Syria's got a tough air defense network so they can't just fly in by helicopter. And whatever they're doing to hold off the Syrians, sooner or later they'll get overrun. Trying to take down the defenses in a normal manner would be a several-day job. I don't know how they're going to get reinforcements into them although my source did say that there was a plan. He didn't know what it was, but he'd heard it was really crazy."

"Well, whoever's going in to help them," the female reporter said, "I wish I could give them a great big kiss. And I hope they're okay."

"Dude," Roman said over the team link. "This totally sucks. I'm freezing todeath. I can tell I'm getting frostbite on my toes. I can barely breathe from this d.a.m.ned ejector. My left arm has gone to sleep from being slammed into this f.u.c.king clamp. And I keep thinking what's going to happen if my hookah accidentally drops free."

The team was suited up in HALO gear, cold weather gear for high alt.i.tudes with an air bottle and mask somewhat like a fighter pilot's to provide them with oxygen. But the bottles were small and wouldn't last the entire time of decompression and flight. So to provide oxygen while they were in the bomb bay a large oxygen tank had been installed and tubes run to each of their masks. If the tube accidentally dropped loose, their oxygen bottle would start automatically. But it would only last so long. And there was no way to fix the problem since they were wrapped up like prey in a spider's web.

The B-2 Spirit bomber used a rotary bomb release system. Bombs were set in a rotary rack, something like a revolver type pistol, instead of being in a general release vertical rack. The beauty of the rotary system was that, instead of having to simply drop the whole stick, specific weapons could be rotated into position for dropping.

The problem was that the rotary system entirely filled the bomb bay. So the only way to carry the SEALs wasinthe rotary system. Bombs were raised into the system and then grabber clamps closed on them to hold them in place, until small explosive charges drove rams downwards, forcibly ejecting the payload of each position into the violent slipstream of the high-speed aircraft. In the case of the SEALS, a field expedient wrapper was improvised. After donning all their normal equipment, including a complete tactical loadout of weapons and ammunition, a belly slung payload carrying their ruck of demo, medical and commo and their parachute and reserve, the SEALs normally had all the grace of a pregnant hippo as they waddled to the door. Waddling wouldn't be required this time, since they had first been wrapped in foam rubber and taped to a metal backboard, then lifted into the bomb bay before the bomb clamp was closed on them. As each SEAL was loaded, the rack was rotated and the next was loaded and so forth, just like bombs, but with more protests. So they were held in place, constricted by their equipment, wrapped in foam rubber, taped to a backboard and unable to move, watching their air lines dangling in front of their faces. In this wonderful condition they awaited the moment when the copilot would operate the weapons release, and the ejector mechanism would fire as the clamps released, launching each SEAL.

"Shut up, Roman," the chief said. "Focus on the mission."

"I'm trying, Chief," Roman said. "But I keep focusing on this hookah line. I mean, they could have rigger taped it orsomething."

"Charlie Platoon," the pilot said over the team net. "In-flight advisory. The agent in place, Codename Ghost, has released the girls and they are now holding a position on the lower level antic.i.p.ating reinforcement. The enemy forces are attempting to force a door in the south wall, which is now your primary target. We're at alt.i.tude and are proceeding to the destination. The Alpha Strike has gone in and are in the process of suppressing defenses. There will be another Spirit up to give you JDAM support on call. They will be monitoring your platoon radio frequency."

"Thank you, sir," the OIC said. "This is a nice plane, but we'll be happy to get out."

"So I heard," the pilot said with a chuckle. "We're going EMCON at this time. Donottransmit on your team net again until you are released. There won't be a warning. The doors will open and you'll be launched automatically. I won't get back to you before the doors open, so good luck."

"You heard what the man said," the chief growled. "Not a word. Chimp down on the radios-full tactical emission control."

Roman shifted slightly, trying for a decent position, and looked over at the nearest jumper who was one of the new meats. The guy had his eyes closed and Roman suspected he was praying. That was all well and good, but since he couldn't b.i.t.c.h, there was only one thing to do. He hung his head down, closed his eyes and quickly went to sleep.

"Team," the pilot said a couple of minutes later. "There's an intermittent sound. We need to maintain EMCON; we're entering detection range!"

"Roman!" the chief snapped. "Wake up! And stay awake! You're snoring!"

f.u.c.k, Roman thought.I hate being a SEAL.

Chapter Twelve.

The last rush had included a satchel charge and Babe had had to demonstrate her throwing arm again.

But Bambi and Thumper had gotten good at collecting magazines and there was plenty of ammo. Enough that Mike was pretty sure he wasn't going to be able to use it all. Not before he died.

"Amy," he gasped, slumping down. "Is there any riggers . . . duct tape in that room?"

"I think so," Amy said. "I think I saw a roll."

"Get Bambi over here with it," Mike replied, slowly lying down.

When Bambi crept across to him, Mike gestured with his chin at the dark room to his right.

"There's road flares by the door. Fire one. I saw some pieces of plasticlike folders in there." He inhaled with difficulty then paused to cough redly. "Get one. Hurry."

"Okay," Britney said, creeping in the room and fumbling a flare to light. She found the sheet and came back out.

"Knife in my pocket," Mike gasped. "Cut away my jacket and shirt."

Britney got it out and cut away the clothing, revealing two wounds in Mike's chest. One of them was bubbling air. She half gagged at the sight of the red wound and bone showing, but kept from completely puking.

"Sucking chest wound," Mike managed to gasp. "Nature's way of telling you to slow down. Caught it on the last attack. Put the plastic on it, tape it down, leave one edge untapped, so it can drain. You'll have to roll me over to do the back."

Britney pulled the cloth further away and laid the plastic on the wound. She was amazed to see it suck in automatically. Then she used the duct tape to strap it down. With all the blood, it was hard to find a place where it would hold but she finally got the plastic secure. She tried to roll Mike over, but he groaned so bad she stopped.

"Thumper," she called softly. "I need help."

"I thought I was Bringer of Fire," the girl said with a grin, then paused when she saw how bad off "Ghost" was. "Oh, no."

"Get the other one on," Mike gasped. "Quick."

Between the two of them they got him rolled over. Just as they did there was a shout from somewhere behind them and then an explosion. Most of the girls let out a shriek and Britney crouched down over Mike, covering his wounded chest as a wave of dust filled the air.

"I put a charge in the ventilation shaft," Mike gasped. "Get the plastic on."

The wound on his back was much larger than on his front and he was bleeding profusely, the blood making a large puddle on the floor that Britney's knee kept slipping in. She wiped some of the blood away with a cut off piece of shirt and slapped on the plastic, strapping it down as best she could.

"We need to get you in the room," she said, helping Thumper to gently roll him over.