Chapter 2

He spent a few minutes fussing with the placement of the laptop on his desk, trying to figure out how to say what he wanted to say, needed to say, without Lady Jaye blowing up at him. Correction, it wouldn't be Lady Jaye, a military professional, who got upset with him; it would be Allison Hart-Burnett, the woman, who might get upset over what she might perceive as male overprotectiveness. But for his peace of mind, he still had to talk to her…

She stood for long moments watching him putter around, then chuckled and put him out of his misery. "General, if you're about to ask me to reconsider, you can save your breath. I'll stay behind if you order me to, because I know why you feel that way, but I won't be happy about it."

His relief was almost palpable as he sat heavily down in his chair and looked up at her. "Allie, I'm not questioning your judgment," and she knew that what Hawk was going to say wasn't going to have any bearing on the military aspect; this was personal, because the only time he used her real name was when they were discussing something 'off the books'. "I'm actually glad you're going, in an odd sort of way, because you're the best we have at covert ops. But I'm trying to balance this out with what I know is a real risk to you, personally, physically. You can get very single-minded, sometimes; you'll think of the mission before you think of yourself, and it's gotten you in trouble in the past. The problem here is that with this mission, you cannot get that single-minded focus; there is a long history of human rights violations and the status of women is pretty low in the region. STDs spread like wildfire down there because out-of-control militia are gang-raping the women, and for God's sake, I don't even want to think of you, or Shana, or Courtney in a situation even close to that. I shudder at even the thought of that blond lawyer ending up in those bastards' hands. And I don't even like lawyers." He sighed. "I just didn't know how to say that without sounding like, as Courtney said about Wayne, once, 'a thickheaded male'."

Allie put her armload of papers down on Hawk's desk carefully so as not to disturb them, planted one hand on top of the pile so she wouldn't accidentally knock the pile over, and laughed for a very long time. "Oh for Pete's sake," Clayton said irritably just as she got herself under control, and that set her off again. Finally her laughter infected him, and he grinned, then grinned broadly, then guffawed with her until both their sides hurt from laughing.

"Okay," she seated herself on the edge of his desk, wiping tears from her eyes. "I haven't laughed like that in a while. Oh my." She got herself under control. "Seriously, though, Clayton, I appreciate your concern. Believe me, I'm not unconcerned myself; I've seen some of the stuff in the news about the things the various militia members do to the civilians and it gives me shivers. But if my being there can make a difference, even just a tiny one like escorting a doctor to look at a woman who's healing from that kind of treatment, even if it's just escorting a victim's advocate to talk to a traumatized woman, I'll have made that difference. And you have to think about those people, Clayton. They've seen uniformed, armed men all their lives, and none of those uniforms have ever done anything but hurt them. Maybe seeing a woman in uniform could get people to open up to us when no one else can."

"I hadn't seen it like that." Clayton looked thoughtful.

"Those women and children don't trust anyone carrying a gun. Those children don't even know that a uniform can mean security, hope, comfort. I hope maybe I can change that."

Hawk nodded. "All right. You have my official permission to go on this mission, Lady Jaye." They were back to business with his use of her codename. "However, even though you're the specialist in covert ops, I'm placing Flint in charge on this mission. If he makes a decision, you will follow it even if you don't agree. Am I understood, Staff Sergeant?"

"Aye-aye, Sir!" She snapped to attention and saluted. Hawk rarely stood on rank; when he did use your title, you'd damn well better pay attention. It wasn't that he was strict, he just worried about the people under his command. It was part of what made him such a good commander.

"Dismissed."

But of course that wasn't the end of it. She knew someone else was going to have something to say about her going on this mission, and she tried to figure out what she'd say to him, how she'd ease his fears for her safety, as she went for a swim in the pool. Because he wasn't about to let it go that easily.

And just as she'd known he would, he was waiting by the door to her room when she came up

after her swim. However, his tentative "Can we talk?" indicated he was more worried than anything else, and he was worried about Allison Hart-Burnett's personal safety, not Lady Jaye the Covert Ops Specialist. And it touched her even while a part of her wanted to roll her eyes at the 'thickheaded male'. Had Scarlett heard that one? She'd have to tell Shana later.

"Come on in." She led the way into her room, waited till he'd closed the door behind him, then started peeling out of her bathing suit.

Behind her, she heard him swallow audibly. "Umm…"

Naked now, she grinned as she padded across the floor to stand facing him. With her face only inches from his, she could see the worry lines starting to crinkle the corners of his lips; when he worried, particularly about her, he got those frown lines. "Dash?"

With an effort, he wrenched his eyes from somewhere south of her neck and met her gaze squarely. "Y-yeah?"

She kissed him. It effectively silenced whatever he'd been about to say.

Much later, as they lay tangled in the sheets, sweaty and happy, she broached the subject with him. Her room, her conversation, her terms. He'd be able to think through her arguments logically, now. She hadn't wanted to start this conversation with him earlier; he'd still be caught in his knee-jerk reaction of 'No!' and he wouldn't have listened. Now he would.

"If you really don't want me to go, Dash, I won't." He took a deep breath, started to say something. She rolled over onto his broad chest, placed her finger against his lips, hushing him. "Listen for a moment. I spoke with General Hawk. I think he was thinking the same things you are right now; it's not my skills and ability to carry out the mission he's worried about, and he doesn't doubt my ability to stay professional and objective, but he's worried about my personal safety. And so are you. Right?"

He nodded—mutely, as her finger was still planted on his lips.

"With that being said, he told me that even though this is my specialty, he says he knows that I'll focus primarily on the mission and not so much on my own safety. And I admit that too. I can get single-minded sometimes. So he's placing you in charge of the mission." Dash froze as he thought through those implications. "And I've agreed to follow your orders on this mission. Particularly where it concerns my safety. I may still disagree with you, but we can fight about it when we get back. Okay?" she took her finger off his lips, rolled back over to lie beside him, and waited to hear his reaction.

He was silent for so long that she was about to start arguing again when he flipped over so he was straddling her hips, and leaned in close, bracing his upper body on his own elbows so she could breathe without having his weight crushing her chest. "We can fight about it when we get back?" he asked.

"Yes."

He leaned in close. "Can we make up after we fight about it when we get back?" His breath tickled her ear as he dropped soft, feather-light kisses down the side of her neck.

"Jesussss…yes, whatever," she moaned, "as long as you keep doing that…"

"Welcome to the mission," as his lips claimed hers.

"I think a week might be too optimistic," Hawk said soberly.

Flint, looking over the three-dimensional holographic projection of the provinces in the Eastern half of the DRC, grunted assent. "With terrain like that, it'll be longer. And who knows what sort of vehicles will be available to rent for the trip?"

"It wouldn't be a week if you'd let me take you guys there in a G4," wild Bill, one of their helicopter pilots, grumped from where he sat off to Hawk's left. "Scramble into a G4, land at Entebbe Air Force Base in Uganda, take a smaller transport to Goma International airport, where we can pick up this lawyer and this doctor. Land at the village, do what you gotta do, and take the same route back. A week, tops, depending on how long the doc and Miss Lawyer want to stay." He shrugged at the look Hawk shot him. "Hey, it's fast and quick. And Clancy owes us somethin' after we went and agreed to take on this li'l job for him 'cause his people couldn't babysit a coupla civilians."

Although Hawk agreed with him, he felt he had to rein in Wild Bill's enthusiasm. "There is no official US force in the DRC. In order for us to maintain plausible deniability, we have to get there as paramilitary subcontractors. No one is supposed to know we are American military; Clancy specified that because the last group of American military was ambushed, we want to maintain a low profile in case those ambushers, whoever they were, are deliberately looking for American forces."

Wild Bill waved a hand dismissively. "They were just lookin' for the closest pushovers. Clancy's men just happened to look like pushovers. Doesn't mean we're gonna get the same reception. Heck, I can pretty much guarantee if we went an' made a show of it, we ain't gonna be bothered 'cause we're too visible a target."

"I agree with you, but those are not the parameters of the mission we've been given." Privately, Hawk was already questioning why they'd been handed these orders. It would have made more sense to do it Wild Bill's way, which would ensure the success of the mission and be quicker and easier. He'd studied the directives that had come down with this set of orders once he'd let Clancy know the Joes were taking this on, and he had some misgivings about the plans they'd been handed. Okay, a lot of misgivings. Looking at the bigger picture, he wasn't entirely sure this wasn't part of a much larger plan, one that he wasn't aware of, because there were certain aspects—the largest and most glaring of which was these travel arrangements. However, the fact remained that he'd already agreed to take this on, and now the only thing he could do was to make sure the team he sent was prepared to handle anything.

"Flint, you're going to take your team to Goma International Airport here on the Rwanda/DRC border. According to Clancy, you'll meet Dr. Lavigne and Miss Cabot there, then journey with them to Sake, on the southern border of North Kivu Province. Once in Sake, there will be a vehicle there arranged by the UN to take your team and the civilians up the main road to a village called Lutiba, about 30 miles from the UN Peacekeeping base at Kirumba. There will be a bush pilot waiting for you who will fly you out to the village of Nzoka. The doctor and the lawyer are planning on being there for five days; the UN will send one of their pilots out at that time, and you'll fly back to Kirumba. The lawyer and the doctor will disembark there, you'll stay on the plane to Goma, and come back via civilian international flight."

Lady Jaye nodded, but looked troubled from where she sat in a chair on his left "General, if I may…I want to go on record as saying something doesn't quite sound right here. If the first attempt at this mission was conducted by American military on DRC soil, and this lawyer is an American citizen, why do Clancy's orders insist that we maintain plausible deniability? If it weren't for that, we could do this faster, easier, and with much less risk if we went in under our own flag. No one would question why the US military was involved, because Miss Cabot is American working under the jurisdiction of the ICC."

Flint jerked a thumb in Lady Jaye's direction without looking up from the map. "What she said." She grinned wryly at him, then focused her attention on Hawk.

"To tell you the truth, I've been kind of wondering about that," Hawk said slowly. "Far be it from me to question orders from my superiors, but something doesn't seem right about this to me either. I get the feeling that this small part we've been given is one puzzle piece out of a much larger puzzle, and I'm not very happy about sending you guys in without having a complete picture. I'm having some of my contacts at the Pentagon do some discreet digging, just to see if this is indeed part of something bigger, but in the meantime we've already committed to this and I don't see a way to back out of it now. I am planning a contingency, though."

"I rather thought you would. So what's Plan B?" Flint leaned a hip against the holographic table and folded his arms, giving General Hawk his complete and undivided attention.

"Initially I'd thought that arming your team with sat-phones would be a good idea, in case there was some trouble and you needed help. I'm still going to do that. But I'm also going to have additional weapons sent out to you—when you get to Sake, the UN contact who meets you there is going to have an all-terrain jeep specially stocked with heavier armament than you'd be able to take on a civilian flight, and they'll be hidden all over the vehicle. I also pulled some strings over at the Pentagon and got permission for a small extraction team to wait at Entebbe with two of our fastest heavily-armored aircraft—one for the extraction team and one for you. As much as I'd wanted to have the extraction team wait at the Kirumba UN base, they won't give us permission for that because the base itself has been attacked several times in the last few years, and there were fatalities."

Flint gave a low whistle. "You have to be pretty bold to attack a UN base," he said.

"There is no respect for law and order over there. There is no respect for any kind of authority. There's no respect for the military, because they're just as bad as the people they're supposed to be protecting you from. There's little respect for Americans, because the Congolese have been trying to get the US military to look this way for a long time, settle the region down and return peace, and it hasn't happened yet. The only respect out there is respect for a gun."

"No, not respect. Fear. There's a difference." Lady Jaye said quickly, and Hawk tipped his head her way slightly, acknowledging the truth of what she'd said. "And that's no way to run a country."

"So, are we agreed?"

Flint nodded, but his face still had those deep frown lines on it. "I can't say I'm happy. I'm not. I have a really bad feeling about this whole mission, and I have my doubts, not the least of which are about these so-called travel plans. But knowing we have contingencies makes me feel better. Sort of." He pinned Hawk with a glare. "I still say Allie shouldn't go."

Allie started up in her chair, fuming. She'd thought after their discussion of last night that the topic was closed. Talk about thickheaded males! Then she saw the glint of humor in Flint's dark eyes even under the frown lines, and sat back down, folding her arms defiantly, waiting to see what General Hawk would say to that.

Clayton opened his mouth to say something. Stopped. Looked at Allie, glowering but her lips twitching; then at Dash, frowning but with his eyes glinting with suppressed humor, then decided he didn't want to get in the middle of…whatever it was. It hadn't escaped his notice that neither Allie nor Dash had been in the mess hall the night before—and he certainly hadn't been able to miss hearing Conrad ask Shana if she'd seen Dash sneaking out of the women's dorms. Two and two made five.

No, he really didn't want to get in the middle of this.

"Um…I think my desk phone's ringing," he said, rather desperately, and before Allie could point out that his office was on a separate floor entirely from the briefing room and it was therefore impossible to hear his phone, he fled.

The door didn't close fast enough behind him to block out the sound of Allie laughing.