PANAMA CITY, PANAMA

Ryan took the offered phone from one of the Delta operatives who were now assigned as security for Operation Spoiled Sport.

“This is Ryan.”

“Lieutenant, we’ve had a major problem with the expedition; they no longer appear to be in the lagoon. Boris and Natasha is picking up an empty space where Teacher had been. She also picked out those fifty-plus men making their way past the rapids. It looks like they intend to enter the lagoon. Listen, Mr. Ryan, Jack did manage to get the heat emitters placed before this happened, so you will have an illuminated target area. Is your team ready to deploy?” Niles asked.

“Sir, we really should consider sending our team in on the ground. There’s glitch after glitch with this billion-dollar boondoggle.”

“Get it to work, Ryan. The president says absolutely no ground incursion, so it’s Spoiled Sport or nothing. We have got to keep this unknown ground element off their back.”

“Yes, sir,” he replied.

“Now look, CIA has confirmed that there are no Peruvian or Brazilian units out there, so they have to be bad guys headed their way. Zap ’em, Mr. Ryan, you hear me? Protect our people. Get in the air!” Niles hung up.

Ryan handed the phone back and looked at the Delta sergeant. And then he jumped when he heard an alarm sound. Two men ran up the stairway and into the converted 747, carrying fire extinguishers.

“Goddammit, what now?” he asked as smoke started billowing out of the large double doorway of the aircraft.