Free The Hand of Christ by Joseph Nagle

Michael had been a new graduate from the CIA’s National Clandestine Services (NCS) training that was conducted at “the Farm.” Upon graduation, one of his early assignments with the Company had been with the Special Operations Group, the part of the CIA that conducts covert paramilitary operations.
    Prompted in part by the first Gulf War and the end of the Cold War, the CIA’s old Directorate of Operations arm – now known as the NCS – shifted its focus dramatically from Eastern block communism to Islamic terrorist activities. Algeria had been faced with a terrorist confrontation by the Armed Islamic Group whose mission was to overthrow the Algerian government and in its place the implementation of an Islamic State. This had to be stopped.
    Along with four paramilitary Special Operations teams, Michael conducted a High Altitude Low Opening (HALO) jump from nearly forty thousand feet over Algeria and landed on an oasis at the foot of the mostly volcanic mountains.
    Intelligence was provided to the teams that included the location of the Armed Islamic Group’s headquarters, and of their leader. The mission was to conduct a night infiltration and destroy the camp; no prisoners were to be taken. The goal was to sever the head of leadership, to take away the terrorist group’s direction, to apprehend – or assassinate – their leader.
    The HALO jump was perfected flawlessly and invisible to radar. The night land navigation to the camp of the Armed Islamic Group was conducted nearly effortlessly. Michael had been unnerved by how smooth it went. The heavily armed Special Operations teams moved through the dark guided by AN/PVS-14 night vision goggles affixed to their black Kevlar helmets. There were no signs of any life, not so much as a stray camel had crossed their paths.
    The men climbed their way into the mountain, and upon entering the camp the teams were surprised to find it deserted. In the center of the camp was the building that according to the intelligence provided was identified as the headquarters of the Armed Islamic Group.
    Michael had carefully entered the building with his commander; their weapons were at the ready. A lone fax machine hummed in the center of the empty room. The wheels of the dot matrix printer had been turning and forced out a one-page communication. Tearing it from the machine, the commander had read the printout out loud, “It is the will of Allah.”
    After he read the printout, terror coursed instantly through the veins of the Special Ops commander. Michael distinctly remembered the blood draining from his commander’s face as he shouted nearly indecipherably the order for retreat. The terrorists knew that the Special Ops teams was coming, and had set traps for the men – the terrorists were still nearby. The teams made a hasty evacuation out of the compound but were ambushed by the terrorists halfway down the mountain. Many of the team members met an unfortunate fate.
    Michael survived only by sheer luck.
    Running down the mountain and away from the campsite, the operative – a teammate – in front of him took a stray bullet to his liver. He was thrown backward into Michael while screaming in agony. All Michael could do was to press one hand over the wound and the other over the man’s mouth in an effort to muffle his screams and avoid drawing further attention. Within minutes the man’s thrashing ended along with his breathing.
    Michael carried his fallen teammate down the mountain. Over one-third of the men didn’t make it out of Ahaggar alive. It wasn’t until the Medic aboard the extraction chopper explained the fatal nature of a gunshot to the liver that Michael stopped believing he had suffocated him. The medic reassured him that the operative didn’t have a chance, but at least his family would have a body to bury “unlike the others.”
    Unlike the others , Michael had thought.
    There would be no way that Michael would not go back to Ahaggar to retrieve the