Dan Schilling - The Power of Awareness: And Other Secrets from the Worlds Foremost Spies, Detectives, and Special Operators on How to Stay Safe and Save Your Life

NOTE: The names, location, and mission in the following story are masked due to certain sensitive national security considerations.

Somewhere on the Arabian Peninsula

Billy Sole sat in the passenger seat of a dusty SUV observing as the mission went down several hundred yards away. The sun was bright, almost blinding, its rays magnified by the glare of the nearby Arabian Sea. It was midsummer hot, and the ocean provided no relief, but at least their vehicle was air-conditioned. Technically speaking, Billy, a thirtysomething Air Force special operations veteran from one of Americas black (operating under highly restricted congressional oversight) Special Mission Units, wasnt directly involved in the nearby operation. He and his three compatriots were there in case the man executing the clandestine mission should somehow come under threat from Al Qaeda.

Dressed in jeans and a well-worn collared shirt, Billy shifted in his seat, trying to get comfortable despite the Glock 19 shoved into the small of his back. At his feet lay a go bag with a compact H&K MP7 machine pistol and body armor, in case things went sideways. He watched for trouble up and down the busy road where they were parked. The locals were bustling along on the commercial strip, going about the daily business of trying to make a living in a dusty city by the sea. The heat tempered the foot traffic, even though this part of the city was something of a social destination. It was a little boring conducting overwatch for a clandestine missionnothing ever happened, which was exactly the point of clandestine work.

Parked along the side of the road, wedged in between a line of nondescript cars, they blended in with the mix of private and commercial traffic. The locals took no notice of the men, who went to some lengths to ensure what was visible from the outside of the SUV was nondescript. This included not wearing sunglasses, because sunglasses would draw attention in this country.

The driver observed a cab pull up a car length and a half behind them and double-park. When no one got out, he mentioned it to Billy and the other two occupants, all of whom took note but paid little attention. After nearly a minute the lone passenger hadnt emerged, so Billy cast a discreet backward glance, but gleaned nothing other than the passenger was taking his time, arguing over the taxi fare or perhaps completing a phone call.

Billy turned his attention instead to a secret electronic device his team was using for targeting terrorists. The four men in his car were the best-trained black special operators in America, and therefore the world. As he focused on the device, the hair on the back of his neck began to stand up. He looked up, but nothing had changed on the street, it was the same crowd hed been watching for two months. The cabbie and passenger were still in their double-parked space, and he brushed off the feeling.

The teams driver announced that the passenger had exited the cab behind them but was momentarily standing in their blind spot. A moment later the cab drove past the Americans, on its way to another fare. The passenger walked up the sidewalk and passed by the side of the Americans SUV. He stopped suddenly by the front tire of the vehicle, turned to look inside, and pulled a pistol from inside his shirt. In one swift motion he jammed it against the passenger window and fired three point-blank rounds.

Without a spared glance he turned and walked in the direction hed come, stuffing the weapon back into his shirt, and promptly disappeared.

In the SUV there was a deafening silence after the ear-shattering explosions of the pistol shots. Glass shards were scattered both on the dash and the men from the damaged bulletproof glass that had thwarted the assassins attempt. The assassins window choice had merely been to ensure he killed the most important American, who would surely be sitting in the front passenger seat. But now there was another problem, and in the immediate aftermath, the teams training kicked in. Billy rapidly scanned through the windows, including the passenger glass with its neat and tight three-shot grouping, for what would come next, most likely a vehicle-borne improvised explosive to kill them all.

They needed to move. Now. To remain in place was to invite death, and despite the adrenaline and a near fatality, thanks to years of training and practice, a rush of decisions and actions immediately ensued. The driver plotted his course. One of the men made a call reporting the assassination attempt. Weapons now at the ready, the others checked for additional avenues of further attack and scanned human faces for signs indicating potential assault. With the four men on high alert, the driver quickly pulled out into traffic as they all continued scanning for the next threat. All of these actions happened in a handful of seconds. Threading their way through the stunned crowds, the men disappeared into the dust and commerce of the Arabian heat.

It was a fortunate failure, and the question the four men asked each other when theyd arrived back at their safe house was