Chapter 2:

Insertion

Sam Fisher turned to face his field runner. She had replaced Junior Wilkes after he died by the hands of terrorists, trying to save Sam Fisher while he ran to the Osprey for extraction from the Kalinatek building. He believed her to be of Japanese origin or something like that. He nodded grimly at her.

The panel beeped. It was Lambert, Sam Fisher's organiser. He did all the briefing and Intel.

"Fisher, you online?" the deep voice of Lambert boomed through the speaker. Sam spoke into the in-built microphone.

"I'm here, Colonel. About to suit up and move out, but an elaborate description of the mission parameters and objectives would be nice. All I know is I'm flying towards the 'Land Down Under'."

Colonel Irving Lambert was clear-cut and precise; he was not going to beat around the bush. "A small suburb in Melbourne, Victoria is your destination, and Roland Strain is your objective; he's being held hostage and the only reason we've managed to find out is something to do with an oil ransom. That was discerned from a muffled transmission to a remote location in Russia we managed to intercept." His calm, clear voice was replaced by the muffled voice of a terrorist unknown.

"Roland Strain…caught hostage…under heavy guard, we…force him to…trying to get enough oil for…possibly ransom…over."

Lambert spoke once again. "That was all. We need you to find out more, and try and get Strain free. We also need to know the name and specifics of the organization which nabbed him." He was so sharp and quick he sounded irritable.

"You don't sound on top of the world, Lambert."

"Of course not; we need that oil. It's crucial for not only civilian use but for military operations, as well. It fuels our defence." Lambert retorted. He was in no mood for idle chit-chat.

"Maybe that's why they need the oil." Sam reasoned.

"We thought of that too, but we can't put it down as definite until we have concrete facts. Speaking of concrete, we also need to know how they got that perimeter."

"You mean that huge flood barrier?" asked Sam, glancing out the side window.

"Yes, it wasn't there originally. It borders the shore; the other side of town is barred by harsh and mountainous terrain. We need to know how they managed to get it there. If they can transport that, who knows what else they could do. If it wasn't international transport…" he paused, and then continued.

"We also need you to take care of any communication. We don't want them contacting anyone from the outside and alert them to our presence…should it be revealed."

"Is it allowed to be revealed? What are my restrictions?"

"Your presence there is non-existent. You are a ghost in almost every sense of the word, except you're not dead, and nor should you be. You have the fifth freedom, Fisher…do whatever you have to do, just get Strain out of there without making the terrorists know you're doing it. And Fisher…make good use of that knife. Over and out."

Sam Fisher nodded to himself as he cocked his silenced FN Five-Seven, loaded it with a fresh magazine and holstered it, placing spare ammunition in a pouch. He was to be the unseen yet lethal, unknown yet brutal predator. He attached the launcher to his FN F2000 and placed on its holder, conveniently positioned on his back. He would be the sliver of glass; small, sharp, and invisible. The sort of splinter which is never seen until it is too late. He placed equipment, devices, gadgets and the launcher ammunition inside various compartments of his prototype SIGNIT Covert Suit, and opened the hatch. The wind whipped against him viciously, threatening to tear his skin from his bones. The weather at this altitude was furious, but Sam had had to live through worse than this at Kuwait. He adjusted the Vision Goggles on his scalp, pressed the lens against his forehead, stared at the ominous clouds and roaring winds accompanied by pouring rain…and leapt.

He struggled against the current of the wind. He fought the strength of his velocity. He resisted the intense acceleration and denied the adrenaline. Struggling with his gloves, he spoke into his communicator:

"Lambert, remind me why I'm doing this."

"If you don't, you'll be taking your bike to work instead of your car."

Lambert was in a grim sense of humour. Sam shutdown his body and did not struggle, he did not resist. He was that sliver of glass; quiet, undetected, infiltrating and exfiltrating without being seen or heard.

He was a Splinter Cell.