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sluggishly tried to respond, but the opened ramp caught the side of a building.
    The nose of the chopper was abruptly forced down. Renee felt her feet slip out from under her, and she grabbed hold of the nylon bench as the bird began to yaw. The pilot was trying to get the nose up, and she slipped toward the open ramp, her rifle banging against her knees. With a panicked cry, the crew chief tumbled off the ramp.
    He disappeared, and the safety line attached to his back jerked taut as he fell toward the ground.
    She heard herself yelling over the screaming rotors, amid dinging warning bells. Then a bright ball of flame erupted near the tail rotor, spewing flame and hot gasses into the troop compartment.
    As the helo slipped hard to the left, the rotors clipped the side of a building. They disintegrated in a shrieking jumble of metallic shards, carving off concrete chunks. The Mi-17 hovered weightless for a split second, and then everything went black and it dropped toward the hard ground below.

CHAPTER 7
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    Washington, DC
    L ieutenant General Patrick Vann had finally managed to drift off to sleep when his work phone erupted from the bedside table. Turning onto his side, he reached for the phone vibrating defiantly on the overpriced nightstand his wife had bought during one of her famous shopping sprees at Restoration Hardware.
    The general had no idea why she would pay so much for a piece of furniture that had been purposely distressed, but right now his only concern was to answer the phone before it woke her up.
    By the time he grabbed it, ripping the charger from the jack at the bottom, he felt her begin to stir beside him.
    â€œPatrick, Jesus, it’s two in the morning,” she moaned, yanking on the covers.
    â€œGo back to bed, baby; I’m sorry,” he said as he climbed out of bed.
    â€œThis better be good,” he grumbled to himself.
    â€œSir, it’s Anderson. We have a situation.”
    â€œGoddamn it, what now?”
    â€œIt’s Ronin 6. He called for an abort, and now the situation is going to hell.”
    General Vann fumbled in the dark, trying to get to the bathroom, when he jammed his toe against the side of the bed.
    â€œShit,” he swore.
    â€œPatrick.” His wife’s muffled voice chastised him from the depths of her pillows.
    â€œSorry, baby,” he said, covering the phone as he stepped into the bathroom. The cold tiles at least soothed the bottom of his throbbing foot.
    â€œSay that again.”
    â€œSir, Ronin 6 called for an abort. Next thing we know, the strike team choppers are attacked. What do you want to do?”
    â€œDid he say why?” the general demanded, closing the door behind him as he ran his hands up the wall in search of the light switch.
    The lights came on in a blaze, burning his eyes. He caught his reflection in the mirror. He looked like a haggard and pissed-off old man.
    â€œNo sir, and we can’t get him back on the net.”
    â€œScrew him. What about Boland?” he demanded, knowing that was all his boss cared about.
    Mason Kane was a pain in his ass, and the only reason that he and his Libyan flunky were on the mission was because he was the only asset close enough to get there before the air assault.
    â€œYes sir, he and the source are en route to the objective. But the strike team took heavy fire before they landed, and one of the choppers took what we think was a surface-to-air missile.”
    Vann ran his hand through his thick black hair as he mentally walked through the hastily set-up operation. He had advised against launching so soon, but Simmons had said this came directly from the SecDef. There was too much risk involved, and despite his boss’s promise that they could trust the source, Vann had his doubts all along.
    â€œDo we have a Predator over the crash site?” he asked, referring to the drones.
    â€œRoger that, sir,” Anderson replied curtly.
    â€œIs it