Cut Out by Bob Mayer

this.
    “Can you make it down there, Donna?”
    Giannini thought furiously. “It would take me a while.”
    “She may not have a while.”
    “How about if I contact the feds? They can get someone to her much faster.”
    “No! She said definitely not. She already tried that once.” The voice on the other end sounded desperate.
    Giannini’s thoughts settled on a possible solution. “I’ve got an idea.”
    “What?”
    “I’ve got a friend who might be able to help your sister. Can you get hold of her?”
    “She’s calling me back in thirty minutes.”
     
    FORT BRAGG, NORTH CAROLINA
    29 OCTOBER, 9:04 a.m.
     
    The new Special Forces academic facility, or ACFAC, as it was called by those who worked there, was one of the most strangely constructed buildings Riley had ever seen. His office was on the fourth floor on the east end of the building, the only stairs that went from the first to the fourth floor on the east end began in the back of a classroom that was usually in use, thereby making the stairs effectively worthless. His other options were to take stairs in the center of the building or the lone elevator on the east end.
    That was only the beginning of what disgusted Riley with his modern Fort Bragg workplace. Another problem with the design of the building became immediately noticeable as Riley pushed through the heavy fire doors that opened onto the offices for 1st Battalion, 1st Special Warfare Group. The work area was a large open room, more than a hundred yards wide and deep. To designate company and individual work areas, the powers that be had simply installed six-foot-high blue partitions, to form numerous cubicles each with space for two desks back to back. It was easy to get lost in this maze; in addition, everyone was too close together, with the chain of command all sitting within spitting distance. It made a free spirit like Riley uncomfortable.
    Despite the advantages of being in a modern building, Riley and all the other worker bees missed the old World War II barracks that SF had used at Fort Bragg. In those aging, unattractive buildings, they’d had the latitude to design and modify the interiors any way they pleased.
    Riley threw his small backpack onto the crowded desk and slumped down into his chair as he eyed the training schedule hanging on the cubicle wall. His team—Team 3, direct action—was on the light part of its teaching cycle, having just finished the mission planning and field training exercise at Camp Mackall. One of his noncommissioned officers (NCOs) had to teach a target analysis class later in the week, but other than that, there was nothing formally scheduled. Riley planned to give the five NCOs assigned to him some days off, and he would use the time to update lesson plans and outlines—a chore no one enjoyed.
    A Company was broken down into four teams—direct action, strategic reconnaissance, foreign internal defense, and unconventional warfare. When a student officer reported to Fort Bragg for the Q-course, he’d already passed the biggest hurdle to becoming Special Forces qualified—the three-week Selection and Assessment (S & A) course at Camp Mackall. S & A was modeled after the selection course used for Delta Force, which in turn had been modeled after the course the British used for their Special Air Service (SAS). It was a land navigation course that involved marching many miles through the North Carolina wilderness with a heavy rucksack on the back. The participants were not told what the time limits were from point to point, or how many points they would have to complete, which increased the physical and mental stress as the days and nights went by.
    Passing S & A allowed a student to become slotted into the Q-course, and that was where Riley and his team took over. A Company handled the incoming officers; B through E Companies took over the enlisted specialties from weapons man through commo man. Several months were spent learning the individual