Into the Crossfire

"Five minutes, Lieutenant," the man seated in the pilot seat hollered back to him, breaking up the monotonous whir.

Every man around him straightened his spine and their muscles grew taught. It wasn't fear that had them at the ready, it was anticipation; the same anticipation that surged through his veins. In four minutes and 39 seconds, they'd be on the ground. In 15 minutes and nine seconds, they'd be in position, a mile and a half away from the landing zone. Within 30 minutes, their task would be complete: suspects apprehended, intel gathered and building secured. The 2,000 kilograms of cocaine housed in the building wasn't his problem, only the men selling it and their list of buyers. "Just get those bastards, Caleb," his S.O. had told him. "We'll clean up their mess later." In other words, another team would be deployed to round up the drugs once the area was secured...