The airfield had doubled in size, but it was still eerily familiar. It made him anxious to be back in Afghanistan, and a sense of fear washed over him as he shouldered his assault pack and set out to find his prey. He pointed out the Joint Special Operations headquarters, which looked exactly the same as it had the last time Mason had seen it. It was a small building surrounded by a concrete wall, and the sight of it made him feel very exposed as he unconsciously felt for the pistol on his waist. The compound’s wall was made from Jersey barriers that had been stacked three rows high. The barriers looked exactly like the ones you would find at a construction zone or on the freeway. The wall was about ten feet tall and topped with razor wire. The only other security that he could pick out, besides the guard, was a camera mounted on a wooden pole near the entrance. A guard sat out front, in a green plastic chair, enjoying a cigarette while basking in the sun. His rifle was leaned against the concrete wall to his left, but he didn’t seem too worried about anyone bothering it.
