Apache Dawn by - (best e book reader txt) 📕

Los Angeles, California

All Saint’s Hospital

“Are you in position?” asked Cooper. He looked up into the darkness of the empty elevator shaft. The only things visible—as far as he could see—were the dimly glowing emergency lights at every level, combating the darkness with their feeble glow. He had just sent Petty Officer John Sparks, the team sniper, to make his way up to the top of the shaft and gain access to the roof, ten floors above. Cooper desperately needed to know what the hell was going on outside.

For hours, they’d hidden in the darkness of the hospital’s basement, waiting for a counterattack from the North Koreans that never came. The rumbling they felt through the floor, heralding the deaths of fallen buildings outside and screams of jets overhead continued unabated. But in the last hour, the noise had increased dramatically. More jets had arrived and the floor shook less—he desperately hoped it signaled the arrival of the good guys.

Not that the time spent in their improvised fortress was completely without a bright spot. He got to spend a few minutes talking with Dr. Alston. He had been curious how she knew about Apache Dawn. Now that he knew she was a combat medic turned surgeon and had done time in the Sandbox, she was just that much more attractive. No matter how many times he’d tried, he’d never found a woman who understood what it was like to enter combat, to put your life on the line for those around you.

His radio broke squelch twice, signaling that Sparky was in position at the edge of the roof, observing the chaos surrounding them. Cooper filed his wandering thoughts away and focused.

“Okay, drop the cable,” Cooper ordered. He scanned the hallway, looking for movement through his night-vision goggles. The Koreans had thus far played it safe and not made a move on the basement, but Cooper would not take any chances and remained alert. He told himself for the hundredth time, They have to know we’re here. They have to.

A loud clatter reverberated down the length of the empty elevator shaft as a black ethernet cable fell seven stories. Cooper knew that meant Sparky had already plugged the other end of the temporary cable into their portable satellite receiver array up on the roof. They had ripped ethernet cords from every computer they could find in the waning hours of the night, in order to splice one together long enough to reach the rooftop before dawn kissed the sky.

Cooper pulled the sat phone free of its holster on his chest and plugged it into the makeshift hookup. While it searched for a signal, he continued to watch the darkened basement for any sign of the enemy. He was on the far side of the basement from where the Secret Service had holed up with the President. Cooper was alone now, except for Sparky seven floors above on the roof; the silence was overwhelming.

“Damn,” he whispered as each preset frequency came back with no joy. The sat phone was an expensive paperweight at this point. It made no sense. The phone, even with a boosted receiver up on the roof, could get no signal from any of the dozens of military communications satellites overhead. Just as he was about to close the phone, an extremely weak signal appeared, on one of the auxiliary emergency channels.

“All units this net, do you read me? This is Striker, Actual,” he whispered.

Static hissed in his ear. He tried again, boosting the gain. There was a constant static background, suddenly interrupted by silence, and then a muffled sound that he hoped was a voice trying to reach him.

“Say again, I got a very weak signal,” he hissed, eyes searching the basement in front of him. He keyed his throat mic. “Sparky, see if you can adjust the array…it’s locked on to a signal but I got bad interference.”

His radio broke squelch two more times.

Within seconds, the frequency on the sat phone calmed down and he heard a voice say, “—again, Striker 1, Actual, how copy?”

“I read you, who is this?” he whispered, cringing at the sound of his own voice in the silent gloom of the basement.

“Striker 1, Actual, I need your authentication code.”

“Shit,” he whispered. He was probably dealing with some REMF somewhere who didn’t know his ass from his elbow, but it was the only contact he had. Maybe they could at least give him some intel on what the hell was going on topside.

“Roger that, authentication Charlie-Victor-Niner-Five-Seven-Alpha.”

“Wait one for confirmation.”

Cooper frowned. That emergency authentication code he’d just broadcast told anyone in the know that he was part of a SEAL team and to stop screwing around and provide immediate assistance. He adjusted the grip on his MP5 and checked the magazine for the hundredth time, waiting for whoever the hell he was talking with to return. The voice was calm, but weak, as if the signal was fighting an awful lot of interference to get to him.

After what seemed like an eternity, the line picked up again. “Your code checked out, Striker 1, Actual. This is Eagle’s Nest. What’s your sit-rep?”

Eagle’s Nest? Holy shit, that’s NORAD. He held his breath, waiting to see if there was anyone out there listening to him. Before speaking again, he leaned out into the dark elevator shaft and looked up to check that all the doors on each floor were still closed. None were