Impossible Odds

on a sidearm long enough to fire off a single shot. In seconds, random gunfire would be tearing through the campsite and be just as likely to kill the hostages as save them.
    Still, when the SEAL team’s GPS units indicated they were closing on the campsite, the faceless men from DEVGRU glided through the darkness knowing it was safe to exploit their enemy’s most grievous tactical error.
    There were no dogs.
    Many people in that region have no affection for dogs, considering them unclean and good for nothing, one more mouth to feed. A more dog-friendly attitude would have greatly benefitted the kidnappers. If any had been out there, it would have severely complicated the infiltration effort. That simple precaution is often effective against sneak attacks because it can be so tricky to take out dogs in silence without alerting anybody.
    The SEAL operators moving to their preattack locations shared the kidnappers’ appreciation for a lack of dogs. The element of surprise lay at the heart of their attack plan.
    Zero hour found each of the SEAL special operators at his prearranged location with the weaponry specific to his job. Grenades and all heavy weapons were left behind, too hot for a surgical job like this. However, the Heckler & Koch MP-7 was ideal for close-quarters fighting, compact even with the suppressor mounted. Likewise the smaller MP-5 machine pistol. The larger H&K 416 assault rifle, with its longer barrel, would be more effective if kill shots were necessary at a distance. Suppressed large-caliber handguns topped their close-quarter firearms list. And the long-bladed knife strapped to each man gave him the opportunity to performa silent kill up close, or provided a last chance at survival if he got separated from his firearms.
    They arrived already knowing the expected locations of Poul Thisted and Jessica Buchanan in the camp. They knew each one slept on the ground, ringed by guards. Their night vision systems allowed them to silently surround the camp and prepare to launch a coordinated attack under the welcome blanket of darkness.
    But the appearance of the camp was all wrong. There were no fires for cooking. In spite of a chill in the night air there were no fires for warmth. The guards all appeared to be fast asleep—every one of them, even though guarding the prisoners was what they were there to do. And for some reason, the American female was moving around the camp by herself in the dark.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
    The news of a few days earlier had driven Erik into another nightmare, and he found himself clawing at Jessica’s attackers. The dream captured his extreme frustration, set off by the big media story—some American-German citizen working as a journalist had tried to get into the region where Jessica was being held. Word was he planned to interview her, then leave, just like that. He had actually crossed the Green Line and passed down into southern Galkayo traveling alone, as if his press credentials would keep him safe. The ill-fated journalist not only wasted his time and never got near her, now the word was that he himself had been kidnapped.
    In a dream that night, Erik fought with a faceless reporter who was standing in his way and keeping him from Jessica. He struggled to get past him and the other dream attackers to reach her, tearing at them with every combat move he knew. There were always more coming, always more. Nothing he did could get past them.
    He woke up gasping and angry. The clock showed it was past midnight, now the twenty-fifth of January. The only news from the region on that day was about the UN reestablishing contact with Mogadishu for the first time since 1995. He didn’t feel cheered up over it.
    He lay back down, but was too awake to sleep again. Pretty soon he was back up and pacing around, trying to talk himself out from under the tension. He had expected a raid within six days of the Americans’ receiving his certification of Jessica’s deteriorating condition. But the twenty-fourth was the sixth day, and something obviously caused them to pause in their timeline. There had to be a reason or reasons, but they existed behind the official barrier of secrecy. He could only hope their delay would be a short one.
    Thoughts of murderous revenge kept interrupting his concentration. The idea of an entire group of men working together to inflict this slow suffering on an innocent woman left him with no desire for another wasted word of negotiation.
    As far as he