the top of his jungle boot and slipped the bottom of his fatigue pants underneath, securing it. Standing, he checked himself in the mirror—good to go. He left the shower room and looked in on his company in 1st Battalion’s offices. The commander and sergeant major were out at Mackall, listening to briefbacks from the student class as they prepared for a strategic reconnaissance mission—Team 2’s area. Riley left a few instructions with the senior sergeant on his team and then headed downstairs to 2d Battalion’s area.
The third floor was a replica of the fourth—a large open room crisscrossed with blue partitions. His first stop was F Company, which ran the counterterrorist training. Riley spent several minutes talking with a sergeant he knew there and received a few pieces of specialized equipment. After thanking the man, he asked where the Operations and Intelligence (O & I) committee was located in the labyrinth of cubicles. The sergeant gestured vaguely toward the rear of the room. “Somewhere back there, Chief. And take care of that equipment—it’s my ass if they find out I lent it to you.”
Riley had to ask twice more for the O & I committee, surprised that people who worked every day within fifty feet of each other had no idea where the others were. Finally finding the right place, he had to ask again to track down the correct person. “Sergeant Major Alexander around?”
“Two cubicles over, Chief.”
Riley poked his head into the indicated square and spotted the familiar figure. “Sergeant Major.”
Alexander looked up from his desk and frowned for a brief second, then his face cleared as he recognized his visitor. “Chief Riley. How the hell are you? Haven’t seen you in what, two years?”
Alexander had been assigned to Riley’s team during the EYES missions in Colombia. Riley had found his name on the large organizational chart that hung in his company sergeant major’s office when he’d looked up the O & I committee. Special Forces, despite the recent increase in numbers, was still a relatively small, close-knit community, especially among those who had spent more than ten years in it. Alexander’s name had leaped out at him as he scanned the chart, looking for someone who could do him a favor. Alexander was the senior NCO; his name was second, right below the major who commanded the teaching cadre.
Never one for small talk, Riley nevertheless tried for a few minutes, inquiring about Alexander’s family and the committee. Finally, he wound his way around to the purpose of his visit.
“Sergeant Major, do you have any exercises scheduled this afternoon or evening?”
“What kind of exercises?” Alexander didn’t wait for an answer. “We’ve got two classes in session and both are running ops.” He didn’t need to consult a training schedule. “Class six is running a surveillance exercise and class seven is doing photography.”
Riley nodded. “Can I borrow some of the people you have on the surveillance op?”
“Borrow?” Alexander peered closely at Riley. “What exactly do you mean by borrow? To do what?”
“I’m running an operation with the officers—an E & E exercise— and I’d like to put some of your guys on surveillance to cover a personal meeting. See if the officers spot the surveillance—you know what I’m talking about.”
Alexander leaned back in his swivel chair and regarded Riley for a few seconds. “You know that the training schedule is next to the Bible around here. You don’t change it, especially not on the day of the training.”
“I’m not asking you to change the training schedule,” Riley explained. “They’ll still be doing surveillance—just in a different location and with a different objective.”
Riley could see that the sergeant major wasn’t buying his story. There was a long silence, then Alexander stood up and gave a yell: “Martin!”
A worn-looking master sergeant appeared a few seconds later. “Yes, Sergeant
The third floor was a replica of the fourth—a large open room crisscrossed with blue partitions. His first stop was F Company, which ran the counterterrorist training. Riley spent several minutes talking with a sergeant he knew there and received a few pieces of specialized equipment. After thanking the man, he asked where the Operations and Intelligence (O & I) committee was located in the labyrinth of cubicles. The sergeant gestured vaguely toward the rear of the room. “Somewhere back there, Chief. And take care of that equipment—it’s my ass if they find out I lent it to you.”
Riley had to ask twice more for the O & I committee, surprised that people who worked every day within fifty feet of each other had no idea where the others were. Finally finding the right place, he had to ask again to track down the correct person. “Sergeant Major Alexander around?”
“Two cubicles over, Chief.”
Riley poked his head into the indicated square and spotted the familiar figure. “Sergeant Major.”
Alexander looked up from his desk and frowned for a brief second, then his face cleared as he recognized his visitor. “Chief Riley. How the hell are you? Haven’t seen you in what, two years?”
Alexander had been assigned to Riley’s team during the EYES missions in Colombia. Riley had found his name on the large organizational chart that hung in his company sergeant major’s office when he’d looked up the O & I committee. Special Forces, despite the recent increase in numbers, was still a relatively small, close-knit community, especially among those who had spent more than ten years in it. Alexander’s name had leaped out at him as he scanned the chart, looking for someone who could do him a favor. Alexander was the senior NCO; his name was second, right below the major who commanded the teaching cadre.
Never one for small talk, Riley nevertheless tried for a few minutes, inquiring about Alexander’s family and the committee. Finally, he wound his way around to the purpose of his visit.
“Sergeant Major, do you have any exercises scheduled this afternoon or evening?”
“What kind of exercises?” Alexander didn’t wait for an answer. “We’ve got two classes in session and both are running ops.” He didn’t need to consult a training schedule. “Class six is running a surveillance exercise and class seven is doing photography.”
Riley nodded. “Can I borrow some of the people you have on the surveillance op?”
“Borrow?” Alexander peered closely at Riley. “What exactly do you mean by borrow? To do what?”
“I’m running an operation with the officers—an E & E exercise— and I’d like to put some of your guys on surveillance to cover a personal meeting. See if the officers spot the surveillance—you know what I’m talking about.”
Alexander leaned back in his swivel chair and regarded Riley for a few seconds. “You know that the training schedule is next to the Bible around here. You don’t change it, especially not on the day of the training.”
“I’m not asking you to change the training schedule,” Riley explained. “They’ll still be doing surveillance—just in a different location and with a different objective.”
Riley could see that the sergeant major wasn’t buying his story. There was a long silence, then Alexander stood up and gave a yell: “Martin!”
A worn-looking master sergeant appeared a few seconds later. “Yes, Sergeant
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