Time Sensitive Target

Part 5 - Who Dares Wins

"A joint operation? You fuckin' with me?" Sonny stood very still, his vastly bulky frame boulder like and immovable.

"Would I joke about this?" Jase stroked his chin where the rough regrowth had already begun. Two days at the base and his freshly shaven civvy look was already a distant memory. That was the thing about military life, it was all consuming.

"Well you must have a pretty fuckin' good sense of humour if you're talking about a joint op with the British, who the hell did that come from?" Sonny's frame was deadly still, his expression fixed with confused irritation.

"It came from the top. You know why Sonny, they're British citizens. It's not our fight," Jase had reluctantly come around to see it himself, and as much as he didn't like it, it did seem the right thing to do.

"Like hell it isn't! Who sat there and watched those poor fuckers scream? I know everyone else turned away but I didn't, you didn't. They came to us, so we get to decide what happens to them. You said it yourself, we'll do whatever it takes," Sonny had a horrible habit of holding people accountable, and when he got his teeth into something he was like a dog with a bone.

"Well, get ready to show them some of that Southern hospitality; wings up at 1600."

Jase strolled past his friend and teammate, wondering how on earth he was going to successfully mediate a harmonious operation with two forces that had secretly been at light-hearted war with each other during the entire war on terror. When there was a common enemy, everything went smoothly. Sure they'd compete over kills and which team was the strongest, but this would be different. They never performed joint rescue ops unless it was a large scale hostage situation and a host nation's own military had to be involved. The current plan frankly didn't make a whole lot of sense, they should have just handed over their intel to the British, let the SAS do their thing and patted them on the back upon their return. Something felt off.

*

"Ok ok, Gemma Collins, or Jade Goody?" Chris unclipped his harness and stretched his back.

"Jade Goody's dead," Rob commented through a mouthful of cashews.

"Yeah I know she's dead, but before she died,"

"Then she had cancer," cashew spittle flew to the metal floor of the cargo plane.

"Before the cancer, Jesus," Chris rolled his eyes as he stretched his arms back and forth.

"What's wrong with you? Why you wanna fuck a dead woman with cancer?" Rav tutted.

Ant paced through echoing laughter in the cavernous belly of the plane with a heavy stride, he wasn't looking forward to negotiating a co-op, and he wasn't prepared to allow the Americans any say in the recovery of their own citizens.

"Who's fucking a dead woman?" He looked around in mock alarm.

"I'd do Gemma Collins, just for the record," Chris held his hands up.

"Alright, settle down. Rav- shut the fuck up and listen- alright. We know these aren't the circumstances we'd like to go in to this sort of operation with. We know we've been given very little intel so far, that will change when we land in Kadhimiya. We expect full cooperation from DEVGRU, but we've no word yet on where we stand with the chain of command. Let's just get in there, keep our egos aside and do what we do best," Ant scanned the interior and looked at each of his men, his brother's in arms. Some of them he had served with for years, and there wasn't a single man there he didn't trust with his life.

                                         *

Kadhimiya was intensely hot and dry this time of year, the Iraqi winds blowing only warm stale air across the tarmac. Jase felt a lick of sweat appear from nowhere across his forehead as the wall of familiar heat smashed against his face. The same old routine followed; kit checks, bad coffee and the occasional introduction to someone they'd already met more than once. He had a private brief before the team brief, where he warned his men to keep themselves to themselves and not to antagonise any of the British. The last part was mainly for Sonny. Dusk drew and night fell, and the boys kept themselves occupied with a knackered Xbox and games that would have been considered old five years ago. There was plenty of laughter once they relaxed, and it wasn't until The Lieutenant Commander strolled in with somewhat hesitant purpose to his gait that the hollering dispersed.

"The SAS just landed. Brief at 2100. Jase, a word?" He avoided direct gaze as he pushed through a door behind them and paced down a long, empty corridor.

"I wanted to be the one to talk to you; things could get hairy and I don't want any unknowns," Jim shifted his eyes to scan each length of the corridor.

"Go on," Jase crossed his arms.

"This mission will be a hostage and an HVT grab. We suspect Bazish al-Raheem is in possession of some very sensitive information that belongs to the US government. He must be secured, and it's important you understand that his capture is priority now," Jim let out a breath he'd apparently been holding.

"Are you saying if I have to make a choice, al-Raheem is the priority target?" Jase wasn't expecting this. He knew something felt odd about the mission.

"For DEVGRU, yes. Once the British learned the hostages were their nationals, we had to disclose the original mission brief and bring them in. The problem is, al-Raheem is a British national too. And although they would probably strip him of his citizenship if they got their hands on him, we can't allow anyone else to get their hands on him. The SAS need to think they're taking the lead in this op, so they concentrate on the rescue mission. Al-Raheem is our real target as of now," Jim's head hurt with the politics of it all. This is what he did now, but for a moment he almost longed for simpler times when the only question was kill or be killed.

"How do we stop the British from blowing al-Raheem's brains out as soon as we make entry?" Jase could adapt, he had to adapt. He was a soldier and he would do as he was ordered.

"Difficult. We don't want them to know we want him, so we can't warn them off. I need to ask you to be point man, make the first entry, secure al-Raheem and take him as prisoner. We'll tell them he has connections to Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi, and we'll put them as point of contact for the hostages so they're focused on that," Jim didn't like sneaking around on secret government missions. Even his boss didn't have the security clearance to know the specifics about the intel Bazish apparently had.

"Wouldn't it just have been easier to leave the SAS out of the mission?" Jase felt irritation swelling.

"Jesus Christ yes," Jim groaned, stretching his neck back. "But we didn't know this until after they were already brought in on the op. We can't push them out or it will arouse suspicion."

"Got it. Alright, HVT's the priority. I'll tell the team." Jase suddenly felt exhausted as he began to return to the rec room.

"Jase- just you and your number two, please. The only thing you need to tell the others is that al-Raheem is a no kill, we need to keep this circle tight." Jim looked at the floor briefly before walking off.

Jase ignored the feelings of unease as he returned to the rec room with a forced neutral facial expression. He wasn't trained to question the motives of their work. They didn't get involved with the politics. They were trained to do what was asked of them and suck it up. That's why they were the best their country had to offer, they were the ones who did the shit no one else could, or would.