“Let us hear it,” Albright said.

I reached down. My finger hovered over the black play button.
The red indicator light on the recorder began to blink.

The button clicked under my thumb.

A sharp hiss of static filled the quiet space between us.

Then, the sound of wind and the low rumble of a diesel engine came through the small speaker.

“We have a request for immediate extraction from Bravo Company,” a voice said.

It was Vanessa’s voice, younger, tighter, stripped of her current polished composure.

“They’re taking mortar fire at the ridge.”

A long pause followed on the tape, filled only with the background hum of a military command tent.

“Hold the order,” Cole’s voice answered.

The recording was clear, his tone flat and empty of any urgency.

“If we send the transport now, the divisional review will ask why we bypassed the northern route.”

“Cole, they are pinned down,” Vanessa said on the tape.

“If Bravo gets wiped out, the fault lies with the terrain, not our logistics report,” Cole replied.

“Log it as a communication blackout. Twenty minutes.”