GhostWalkers 10 - Samurai Game

brilliance, the drive to protect his country. Certainly many people believed in a strong militarynation, and the continual attempts at diplomacy in the face of terrorists or acts of aggression from some countries might be enough to persuade them that Whitney had the answers.
    She didn’t really understand how the general could pass orders on to his team when he knew they would be walking into an ambush. She wished she was in the room with him. She was much better at getting a feel for someone when she was face-to-face with them. Perhaps it had something to do with their energy, she didn’t really know, but it was rare for her to be deceived by someone. It just didn’t make sense . . .
    He knows what we’re capable of.
Sam’s voice moved in her mind with complete confidence. She had forgotten she’d reached out to him and was still in his mind. They were too connected now, making it impossible to know where one started and the other left off.
    That was true, now that she really studied the general’s face. He didn’t like having to be the delivery man, but he’d flown all the way out to their compound to ensure no one else would overhear the conversation and he had made it more than clear what his team would be facing. Still, aside from not wanting his foster son to be among those going, he had never once acted as if they wouldn’t come home alive. If anything, she could see the smoldering anger underneath. He meant what he said when he ordered them to carry out the orders to the letter. He planned on turning the tables on Whitney. His GhostWalkers were going to destroy the rebel army, take out the two men wreaking havoc and committing genocide in the region, get the diamond Whitney wanted, and all come home safe. He believed his men not only could but
would
do just that.
    Breathe, Azami. You’re holding your breath. This is what we do.
    I know. I’ve seen you in action, but I won’t be there with you this time.
She was a little shocked at just how upsetting that was. She believed in Sam, but he would be going intoa firestorm. If Whitney actually had enough clout to shut down their primary and secondary extractions, they would really be in trouble. The idea was to get in and get out without anyone ever knowing they were there.
    “Sir,” Ryland said, clearing his throat. “It would be best if you didn’t act in any way as if you suspect someone is relaying information to anyone on your staff.”
    The general drew himself up, an impressive man who had earned the right to be called a four-star general. He squared his shoulders and looked down his nose at Ryland. “I assure you,
Captain
, I’m quite capable of taking care of myself. You just bring my team home safely. Every damn soldier comes home alive, you understand me?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Sam, with me.” The general indicated with a jerk of his chin.
    Sam followed his foster father from the war room, as all the men rose and saluted. The general walked with his measured steps, his bearing absolutely erect, his posture perfect. He waited until they were a good distance away from the others before he turned to face his foster son. Sam could see the lines of age settling into his face, the gray of his hair, the signs that the man, in spite of his excellent physical condition and diet, was growing old and maybe a little tired of the weight of responsibility he’d assumed for so many years.
    He put his hand on Sam’s shoulder, indicating they were speaking as father and son. “How are you really, Sam? I don’t like that you’ve been targeted once and now you’re being sent into the Congo to get ambushed. Worse, I’m being used to send my own boy into a firefight. I want a medical report from your doctor giving you full clearance or I can’t sign off on this, regardless of how proud I am that you’re choosing to go.”
    “I’m really fine, sir. I know I’ll get full medical clearance. I hope you understand why I have to do this. I could never look any of the others in the eye if I didn’t. If someone is out to get me, I’d rather have my chance at them.”
    “They’re using a ragtag army of ruthless, brutal rebels who care nothing for anyone. Not women, children, their country, or anything else. They love to torture and kill. And if they get their hands on you . . .” The general trailed off to shake his head. “You saw what they did to Ken Norton. That wouldn’t be anything if they got their hands on you.”
    “Then I’ll