Jamal cursed the morning fog that had settled in, understanding it was probably moisture left over from the storm. Then he checked his watch and realized that Schindler was overdue. Which was typical. He was beginning to wonder how the German nation had acquired its famous reputation for punctuality. And efficiency. Both were, in his opinion, grossly undeserved. Helling's recommendation that those three screw-ups be brought along did not reflect well on his judgment.
He clicked on his walkie-talkie. "Firebird Six, do you copy? Is everything CQ where you are? It's check-in time."
There was no answer. The jerk had gone down by the south security fence, where something was amiss. Was he in trouble? Everybody was tied up now, getting ready for the launch. He wondered if they were going to find themselves shorthanded, not having as much firepower as they needed.
"Firebird Six, come in. Cut the games."
Again silence.
Which gave him a very bad feeling. There was no reason for the radio to conk out suddenly. The rule was they always kept their channels open.
This was trouble. Time to alert Ramirez. Either Schindler had fucked up, or they had been penetrated.