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  "What are they doing about the memo?"

  "I haven't heard anything." Ann said. "I just wanted you to know, since you're right there Devon. I think they should have told us to send this information to you, but every time I ask, they tell me they are handling the situation through diplomatic channels. Have they sent you any warnings?"

  "No, and the marines have received no orders to go on heightened alert. Christ, Ann, they still don't have rounds in the chambers of their weapons." She thought about the increase in sniper fire and shelling in the past couple of weeks.

  "Devon, I've been doing some extra work on the fixes and compiling the data, the way you used to." She paused, "There is a spike in activity in your area. Things are really heating up from the looks of it. You need to be careful."

  "I will Ann, thanks for the call. I owe you." Devon said seriously.

  "Just get yourself back here in one piece, lieutenant." Ann said affectionately.

  "Don't you worry." Devon hung up the phone, trying to absorb the gravity of the information she had just received.

  Jumping up from her chair, she yelled for Mike as she crossed the com center. "Mike! Widen your frequency scan. Tell Dave that I want any Syrian or Iranian communications monitored, high priority from now on. Fixes will be taken on all of the intercepts, and I want those, along with the normal fix and signal printouts on my desk hourly."

  "But that's a lot of information to sift through, lieutenant." Mike said doubtfully.

  "Then you better start moving. Somebody call Mac and have her come in." With that, she hurried to the secure phone on the wall and dialed Alex's number.

  "How did you get that information?" Alex asked Devon cautiously.

  Devon was incredulous, "Who cares? This is the most important information we've gotten in months. The safety of the entire multinational force and our personnel in particular, is at stake! This is a real threat, and they're still walking around with weapons that aren't fucking loaded, Alex!" She realized she was yelling and worked to reign in her anger.

  "Our people have known for a while about the Iranian connection," Alex said in a businesslike tone, "The communiqué to the Ambassador merely confirms their involvement, but in our opinion, because there is no timeframe specified, it does not yet constitute a credible threat. The State Department is working on the diplomatic end and they assure us that is the best way to handle this as of now. Accusing Syria of assisting Iran and the terrorists would not be in our country's best interest right now."

  Devon thought her head would explode. "This is exactly why military people get so god damned pissed off at you civilian types!" she bellowed into the phone. "I cannot believe that you don't think that telling military people to at least be prepared isn't the right thing to do. They-we have to be able to protect ourselves." She was gripping the receiver of the phone so hard her hand ached.

  Alex said stonily, "Us civilian types, as you call us, are just as interested in preventing an attack, lieutenant." She angrily accented the last word. Then she breathed in deeply and closed her eyes to dispel some of her frustration. When she spoke again her voice was calmer, "Listen, Dev, just give me a couple more days to see where the State Department folks are on this. I promise you, if things get worse, I'll get my boss to brief the General and move to high alert. Okay?"

  A couple of days. Devon still didn't like it, but she supposed she had no choice in the matter. She rubbed her eyes to trying to ward off the headache that was beginning to pound in her scull behind them. "Alright," She said, relenting. "In the mean time, we are going to be scanning our asses off and gathering any intel we can get. You know I'm not going to stop, Al."

  "Yes, I know." Alex smiled now. "I'll be working late tonight, so call me tomorrow, okay?

  "Okay."

  Devon hung up the phone and went directly to the center of the DF station determined not to miss a vital piece of information that might buy them enough time to avert disaster. This was her time, the reason she had been brought here. She would use all of her skills, and her unorthodox methods to gain the upper hand in this signals game. The only way to win was to piece together the electronic clues and thereby stay a step ahead of those who wanted to harm Americans stationed in Beirut. Devon vowed to do everything in her power to buy the ground forces time. But in her heart she knew time was running out.

  Chapter 28

  October 23, 1983 0530hrs

  The young idealistic Iranian man climbed into the cab of the yellow Mercedes Benz water delivery truck five miles from the Beirut airport. Today, the delivery would not be water but retribution. He did not speak as his comrades moved around the exterior of the vehicle, ensuring that all of the explosives and detonating charges were in place. His eyes were flat black disks and his countenance calm. He knew his duty. He would be in the hands of Allah soon, martyred for their righteous cause, sending a message to the Zionist infidels. They holy land would soon be liberated. He was unafraid.

  Chapter 29

  October 23, 0545hrs

  Devon rose early to fit in her run before heading into the com center to continue her work on the intelligence that the team had gathered during the raid. Now they were also desperately searching for a link exposing Islamic Hamal. Hezbollah was the key, she knew, and she now had information confirming her gut feeling that the Iranians were supporting them behind the scenes. Too many signs pointed to that. She had nothing concrete to take to the major, however. Not yet. Energized she stepped out of the housing unit and walked briskly toward their operations center.

  "Dev, wait up." Devon turned at the sound of Mac's voice.

  "Morning." Devon smiled as Mac fell into step. "You're up early, on a Sunday no less."

  Regarding her friend with a crooked grin and raised eyebrow, "No hot date last night? You slippin'?"

  Mac shoved her blond friend playfully, "You're one to talk. I saw you and Alex leaving the barracks yesterday morning." Her tone became suggestive, "No repeat performance last night?"

  Devon shook her head and laughed. "No, you know the drill with us. I asked her about the message from my friend at NSA, and that led to professional conflicts. I tend to piss her off when I call the super spooks' judgment into question." Her face grew serious, "Mac, this thing is real, I can feel it." Devon looked around and skyward as they walked in the predawn darkness, feeling unsettled by the unusual quiet.

  "Well, you got me all worked up about this intercepted message. I knew you would be in at the crack of dawn, so I wanted to come and help." Mac was the only one that Devon entrusted with the information that Ann had given her.

  "Thanks, we'll be the only ones working today, so I can use all the help I can get. Can you take care of plotting the identified target coordinates so that I can keep going through the transcripts?"

  "No problem." Mac said, "But you owe me dinner tonight."

  "I'll even throw in drinks, how 'bout that?" Devon asked.

  "Now you're talking."

  #

  At 0621hrs, the yellow Mercedes Benz delivery truck approached the exterior fence surrounding the main entrance to the U.S. Marines barracks. Most of the military personnel were still sleeping, enjoying the unusually quiet Sunday morning. As the 12,000 pound truck bomb approached, the Marine guards at the gate were not alarmed. As one guard approached the gate preparing to open it for the apparent water delivery, he could see the driver in the truck smiling as he approached.

  Seconds later, at 0622, the yellow truck accelerated and slammed through the barbed wire fence as the guards struggled to chamber rounds in their M16 rifles in order to get off a shot. The truck careened past the guards, barreled through the sandbag barrier and crashed head on into the lobby of the barracks building.

  As Devon was pulling up a chair to begin examining the previous night's communication intercepts, the quiet of the morning was suddenly shattered by a thunderous
explosion and the ground shook with such ferocity that the floor beneath her buckled and she was thrown without warning into the computer console. She could dimly hear the sounds of breaking glass and shouting in the distance. She heard Mac curse colorfully.

  "What the hell?" Devon said as she stood up. She and Mac ran outside to see what had just happened. "Some kind of explosion?" she asked rhetorically as they exited the building. When the two Army officers emerged from their communications center, approximately three hundred and fifty yards from the Marine barracks, the carnage they saw was stunning.

  The entire four story structure of the barracks, with its reinforced steel concrete supporting pillars, measuring fifteen feet in circumference each, was crashing back to the earth, having been levitated by an incomprehensible force. As the massive building imploded upon itself, another massive shock wave shook the ground and a wall of flaming gas was thrown in all directions from the point of impact.

  The resulting smoke and flying debris generated by the blast was already covering the entire airport area. Devon looked in horror as windows in the officer's quarters 100 feet from the barracks and twenty feet in the air, shattered instantly with the concussion of the building's explosion. The blast sent hot air and debris flying around them and both women fell to the ground, attempting to shield each other from the projectiles.

  They jumped to their feet, the reality of the fact that this was not some kind of accident, but a deliberate attack beginning to sink in and galvanizing them into action. They ran in the direction of the site, intent on engaging any attackers still alive, locating survivors or assisting with casualties. As they ran, a minute later another tremendous explosion rocked the compound, taking both women off their feet again.

  Mac yelled, "You okay?" Devon spit dirt from her mouth and felt a stabbing pain in the tender place on her side where the stitches were healing.

  "Yeah," Devon yelled over the gathering chaotic noise. "You?"

  Mac nodded and was already moving forward, pulling Devon up as she reached her. They both were sprinting again in the direction of the barracks. Absently, Devon registered debris sticking out of palm trees thirty feet in the air. Smoke and dust filled the air, making breathing more and more difficult as they drew closer to the horrific inferno. The sickening smell of charred flesh mixed with the putrid stench of propane and powder from the explosives along with the sounds of moaning and cries from victims accosted their senses.

  Devon, Mac and countless others desperately began digging with their bare hands through the rubble, lifting huge concrete slabs, searching for survivors in the wreckage. As they dug deeper, they at times crawled across severed limbs and other body parts of victims. They were spurred on by the sounds of cries from deep within rubble, knowing that survivors were still trapped beneath; they would not give up. Snipers in the hills took shots at them periodically, making the hellish nightmare more unbelievable. Devon did not look up, she couldn't worry about the bullets, she just kept digging and calling out to the marines trapped under tons of concrete who were desperate to be saved.

  The rescuers carried bodies to a makeshift triage station that had been set up 200 yards away. Devon and Mac worked feverishly alongside marines and sailors who were fortunate enough to have been thrown from their beds by the blast, and clear of the collapsed building. Some of the victims' injuries were so severe that they died on the backs of their rescuers as they were being carried to the medics. They worked furiously, but as the afternoon grew shorter, they began to despair that no other victims would be found alive.

  Devon squatted down to carefully lay the body of a young marine onto the tarp that was serving as the floor of the temporary morgue just outside the triage area. They had run out of blankets or anything else to cover the bodies. She looked at his young face, thinking he didn't seem to be much more than a child. It was 1730hrs, and they had been pushing themselves past the level of physical strain that one would think was possible since dawn. Looking at the face of the handsome young marine something snapped inside Devon. She sank to her knees by his side, cradling her head in her hands, trying desperately to prevent the tears that stung her eyes from falling. She failed. Silently, she wept beside the body of the young man.

  Devon felt a hand on her right shoulder and looked up to see the major standing over her. She jumped to her feet, swiping an angry hand across her face to remove the tears, feeling ashamed that she lost her composure when so much still needed to be done.

  "I'm sorry sir; I'll get right back to work."

  The major was smiling compassionately at her. "Devon, it's alright. We are all human. I would be worried if this tragedy didn't affect you." He squeezed the shoulder under his large hand. "You have worked your ass off today, and I'm proud of you."

  Devon looked past the major toward the hulking shell that was the remains of the marine barracks. Smoke was still rising from the rubble and workers continued to comb through the debris, although the pace was decidedly less frenzied than earlier in the day. Gunfire continued to ring out intermittently from the hills in the distance. "But there is still work to do, sir." She said resolutely, turning her eyes back to meet his.

  "Yes, and I have something that I would like you to do for me."

  "Anything, sir."

  "We need more water, blankets and other supplies. I need you to find a couple of guys to take one of the jeeps to get whatever we can from the main airport building." He gestured toward the main building about two miles away.

  "I'll go major." Devon squared her shoulders, "You need every available body to help with the search and rescue."

  The major started to protest, but couldn't argue with her statement. He shifted his feet. "At least take someone with you." His eyes were a mixture of pride and fear as he looked at Devon realizing how much he had truly come to admire this young woman.

  "I guess that would be me," Mac stepped up beside the major, a weary but determined look on her face.

  The major nodded, "I better get back over there, thank you both. Be safe."

  Mac and Devon ran to the helicopter wing to get their side arms and one M16 before jumping into the nearest jeep. They sped toward the service road of the airport, intent on completed this assignment and returning as quickly as possible to continue assisting with the ongoing search.

  Mac pushed the Jeep to the limit, navigating the dirt access road without caution and Devon held onto the frame of the windshield to prevent her imminent ejection from the vehicle as it bounced along. In her left hand, she clutched the rifle, and scanned the surrounding area for signs of fighters that might attack them enroute. Neither one spoke, the gravity of the devastation that they had witnessed weighing on their consciousness as they drove. The sounds of painful cries reverberated in Devon's head and she struggled to concentrate on the job at hand to drive the agonizing sounds from her mind.

  About a mile from their destination, they rounded a curve in the road and Devon saw the tires from what was apparently an overturned Jeep in a ditch off the right hand side of the road. "Stop!" she yelled pointing off the shoulder and standing up to try to see anyone around the vehicle. Mac jammed on the brakes and the Jeep skidded to a stop on the dirt surface.

  Stepping from their vehicle cautiously, the two officers approached the wreck. Devon shouldered the M16 as she moved closer, leading with the rifle's muzzle, finger poised above the trigger, ready to fire should the occupants be enemy fighters. Mac made a wide arc from the driver's side of the Jeep approaching carefully as well, her .45 caliber pistol pointed at the wreckage as well. When they reached a distance of approximately 20 feet, they recognized that the Jeep was, in fact, a U.S. vehicle. Devon made one last 360 degree scan of the area with the rifle, and satisfied that they were safe for the moment, slung the weapon over her shoulder as she and Mac climbed into the ravine to search for the occupants.

  The Jeep was sitt
ing at a 45 degree angle in the ditch and Devon and Mac had to partially climb under to view the interior. They located a male who looked to be the driver partially trapped under the side of the Jeep. "He's alive," Mac yelled, "help me lift on this side and I think we can slide his legs out." Devon ran around to assist Mac. Lifting up on the side of the vehicle, they wedged the butt of the rifle underneath allowing them to pull the man free from the wreckage. They carried him to their Jeep, and as they placed him inside Devon realized that he did not appear to be military. The bullet wound in his left shoulder needed attention.

  Devon and Mac climbed back down to the site, searching for any additional victims that may have been ejected in the crash. A moment later, Mac spotted another figure laying about 20 feet from the Jeep, face down in the sand.