Chapter 15 - MIDNIGHT OVER SYRIA
At thirty-five thousand feet above the Syrian desert, the interior of the C-17 Globemaster was dark, lit only by the dull red glow of tactical jump lights mounted along the fuselage ribbing.
The rear cargo ramp hung partially open, revealing a terrifying void of pitch-black sky. Cold, thin air rushed into the bay at three hundred miles per hour, roaring like an angry beast as the plane roared along the edge of non-controlled airspace.
Emily Ross stood at the edge of the ramp.
She was equipped with a specialized high-altitude oxygen mask, dark night-vision goggles mounted over her helmet, and a black jumpsuit designed to insulate against the sub-zero temperatures of the upper stratosphere. Her main parachute was strapped tightly to her back, her custom weapon secured flat against her chest beneath her protective harness.
Inside her ear-piece, the calm, digitized voice of Director Sterling cut through the roaring wind from the command center six thousand miles away in California.
"Drop window in ten seconds, Emily," Sterling reported. "Satellite imagery shows Target Site Omega is operating under standard illumination. Guard rotations are nominal. Thermal imaging confirms Malik is inside the central command room on Level Two subterranean."
Emily reached up, checking the seal on her oxygen mask.
"Copy," she replied, her voice steady despite the freezing wind tearing at her jumpsuit.
"Remember," Sterling added, "the server drives are rigged to a central thermite charge. If Malik realizes the perimeter has been breached, he will trigger the sequence. You have one chance to execute this clean."
"Understood."
A bright green light replaced the red illumination inside the cargo bay.
The jumpmaster signaled three fingers, then flattened his hand.
Emily didn't hesitate. She took two sharp steps toward the abyss and plunged out off the edge of the ramp into the freezing, midnight sky.
The noise of the C-17 vanished instantly as she fell into the cold silence of the upper atmosphere. Down below, the earth was an endless ocean of black terrain, broken only by the distant, tiny pinpricks of light from isolated village fires along the valley floors.
She pulled her arms tight against her body, entering a steep, high-speed freefall posture that accelerated her descent toward the target coordinates. Her heads-up display projected a digital crosshair over the dark terrain below, tracking her velocity, altitude, and wind drift in real-time red telemetry.
At three thousand feet above ground level, surrounded by towering limestone cliffs, Emily pulled her ripcord.
The dark canopy deployed with a quiet, muffled snap, catching the night air and slowing her descent into a silent, controlled glide. She maneuvered the steering toggles with surgical precision, guiding herself past the rocky crags of the gorge, dropping toward the dark, unlit blind spot situated directly behind the compound's rear perimeter wall.
Her boots touched the rocky soil with a soft, imperceptible thud.
May you like
She unclipped her canopy harness in under two seconds, burying the dark fabric beneath a pile of loose limestone gravel before unholstering her suppressed carbine.
She was on the ground. Inside enemy territory. The ghost had returned.
