Covert Commando: A Sam Harper Military Thriller

by Thomas Sewell

  I noticed he didn't claim I was wrong.

  Behind his back, I caught movement down the trail to the river dock. Filipino-looking soldiers in black and gray digital camo uniforms.

  Well armed. With rifles aimed in our general direction.

  "Contact!" I drew my carbine to my shoulder. Took aim. Dared I fire before they did?

  If I waited, would they kill someone before I could respond?

  Schnier pushed my rifle barrel down. "Cease fire! They're friendly."

  I let him point my weapon in a safe direction. "Friendly?" We were supposed to be covert, here.

  "Yeah, those are our SAF allies. Let's go see if they're ready to relieve us here. I could use a trip home. Might even be able to catch the same flight as the wounded, depending on how slow they end up traveling."

  He introduced me to Larrikowal, who apparently recognized me from street surveillance. Already knew all about Omar and Raven. He'd chased them in a boat.

  The dude Schnier'd been talking to on the radio earlier.

  Schnier explained our casualties to him. That his platoon was down a squad and tired after their middle of the night raid.

  "We've routed most of them. The ones outside, that is. Likely still around a dozen in the cave complex, but the uphill route from the waterfall is sealed off, so we'll have to choose another entrance to invade."

  Larrikowal cleared his throat. "Glad to here American rangers aren't invulnerable after all."

  The hair on my neck stood up, but Schnier took his comment in stride. "A bad day, but I'll happily turn this place over to you at this point. Our only goal was to free the hostages and help you protect your people from guys like Omar. Now he's all hat and no cattle."

  "As you've shown, subterranean assaults are risky. My Defense Secretary may not have the stomach for the potential casualties. We don't have expensive robots to take the lead for us."

  I shook my head. "Much good it did us."

  His face softened as he considered our casualties. "From what you've described, you already understand the risks. No, I don't think my soldiers will want to enter where rangers fear… I mean, where the enemy has proven to be resolute in their defense. Where's the percentage in that?"

  "There isn't one," Schnier growled, "but I guess that means you need us to stick around until more of your men can arrive."

  "Let me focus." I took a step away, so they could continue their conversation without me. Stared up at the mountain. Watched the stream cascade into the air. Splash into the pool.

  Quite beautiful.

  Reminded me of another mountain stream. One I'd ridden into a set of deadly caverns. A similar trap, set by the north Koreans.

  Pahk. The cavern collapse would've been his idea, not Omar's. Something to provide enough time for escape if an enemy took over the lower cave.

  I stuck my hand into the waterfall. The stream pounded at my palm. Good flow. Pressure.

  Turned back to Larrikowal and Schnier. "Got an idea for you. Use the water. The bottom of the cave, the place where it would drain, is plugged now."

  I pointed at the stream which fed the waterfall from above. "Divert that water flow into the highest cave entrance. Won't take long to fill it up, but the water will stay too long for them to hold their breath. Pretty sure they won't have scuba gear and oxygen tanks ready."

  Larrikowal laughed. "Brilliant! This solves our dilemma, Captain Schnier. You may retreat with your men so they can rest. My SAF soldier's won't spread rumors, but the more conventional police forces we have on their way to reinforce the perimeter are only an hour behind us. They'd wonder what a bunch of American commandos were doing here. Better if you leave now, for all our sakes."

  Schnier nodded. "Sure you can handle it?"

  "With no need to enter the caves, I have enough soldiers to both set security against any stragglers in the jungle and cover the exits to kill or capture any who attempt to flee. We'll be fine."

  I smiled. "It's decided, then. I can finally go home to our luxury resort and take a hot bath. Soak my bruises. Relax while we consider our next move."

  Larrikowal frowned. Looked at Schnier. "You want to tell him?"

  More bad news?

  Schnier sighed. "We're working out of an LCS. Michelle had to torch the resort to stay ahead of the SAF."

  My jaw dropped. "But this dude's on our side, right?"

  "Now he is. It's a long story. I'll tell you all about what you missed on our hike to the LZ. It's only a couple of klicks. You can explain why Raven is Omar's wife to me in return."

  Pretty sure he had the better deal, there.

  How much should I share with him of Raven's confidences? Those she shared to convince me to help her? That her need to escape was real? Of Omar's creation of the torture chamber I inhabited?

  Of the other women?

  He needed to know Raven's situation. Some insignificant detail could help us rescue her.

  But he was already devastated. Felt he'd let down the men he commanded. Allowed them to get hurt.

  Dared I lay Raven's life after they broke up on him? It'd been her choice, but would he recognize that?

  I took a deep breath. Gathered my meager belongings.

  "Don't worry dude, we'll get her back."

  Time to hike out to the LZ. To tell Schnier of Raven's pain.

  * * *

  With the SAF taking over the Lubang Island clean-up, Michelle allowed Sam's platoon sergeant to take over coordinating their intel with the Filipinos.

  In turn, she traversed the hatches, corridors, and ladders out to the flight deck.

  The rear-half of the LCS sported a rectangular landing area, the largest in the navy not on an actual aircraft carrier.

  The flight deck connected to rolling hanger doors in the center of the ship. Hangers large enough to keep the ship's two Seahawk helicopters and remaining drones out of the weather.

  She paced along the outside railing. Watched the water stream by. Looked toward Lubang Island to spot the ship's Seahawks.

  Nothing in sight but a freighter the 7th fleet had contracted to drop supplies to the LCS on its way to New Zealand.

  Michelle checked her sat phone, tied into the ship's wireless network. The ranger's flights were late.

  She sighed. Turned toward the sunrise. A nice enough day on the sea.

  While her phone was open, she flipped through her email. The usual bureaucratic junk.

  What'd Sam have to look forward to?

  She scrolled through his messages. Another letter from Hyo-jin. Should she read it?

  Might as well. See if she'd taken Michelle's advice.

  Hyo-jin professed her caring for Sam, but that she didn't want to put him at risk nor distract him from his dangerous work.

  Good.

  Even more interesting, she mentioned not wanting more lonely nights without him. With no communication.

  That she'd always have feelings for him, would remain his friend, but that while he was a ranger, they needed to not be in a relationship.

  That this wasn't fair to either of them.

  Michelle grinned. The desperate athlete had taken the bait. Done what was needed.

  Truthfully, Michelle hadn't thought Hyo-jin had the guts to break up with Sam, even if she believed it was the right thing to do.

  Must be colder and more logical as a scientist than she'd let on.

  Probably helped that Sam hadn't replied to anything she'd sent him before, though.

  Hmm… after reading all that mushy stuff, he might try to win her back.

  Michelle scrolled through the rest of his email. Re-read Hyo-jin's other messages from when he was out of contact.

  Deleted the worst ones. That'd make it clear to Sam how his ex-girlfriend really felt, without muddying the waters with the multiple letters per day she'd been sending.

  Too much mush in those, anyway.

  A few of the ship's medical staff with rolling stretchers huddled up near the flight deck with a ranger clerk and one
of Sam's analysts.

  They must be getting closer.

  Michelle strode down the deck. Watched the horizon toward the island.

  There. A pair of specks grew larger. Turned into helicopters, with the rising sun lighting them up.

  Their whomp-whomp rotors provided a baseline for their return.

  One circled the ship.

  The other lined up in the air with a large circle painted in the middle of the flight deck. Touched down on two spring-loaded front wheels and then a smaller one to support the tail.

  The pilot flicked a switch inside the cockpit. The engine roar gradually diminished. Rotors slowed.

  She raised her hand to protect her hair from the whipping wind.

  The bird's side doors slid to the back. The ship's medical staff pushed three stretchers to its side. A pair of ranger medics lowered a trio of men to them.

  The first was unconscious, but the other two rangers complained loud enough to be heard over the dying rotor wash about not being allowed to walk.

  While the medics took care of one side, the opposite hatch disgorged more rangers.

  No Sam. No Schnier.

  As the chopper's blades slowed, they folded in on themselves. Reduced their length.

  The infirmary staff departed, rolling their charges away. The flight deck team replaced them and sent the rangers away.

  After the helicopter's crew dismounted, the flight deck team rolled it across the deck.

  The larger of the hanger doors rolled up. Opened to expose a parking space surrounded by a repair shop.

  The team of sailors pushed the Seahawk into place. Locked it down with straps, so it couldn't shift in rough seas. Their chief phoned the ship's control center from a built-in line next to the hanger door.

  Efficient, but Michelle just wanted them done so the next one could land.

  The phone call must've gotten results. The second Seahawk followed the example of the first to land. No medical staff, but the rangers aboard exited even faster.

  Schnier was first out one door. Sam second out the other.

  Michelle stood next to the hanger with the ranger clerk and analyst. They'd be meeting them as well and knew where to wait.

  She couldn't help but contrast the two junior officers. Schnier in uniform, with bulging muscles and red hair. Passionate in a cowboy kind of way. Obnoxious about women in a Texas kind of way, although he occasionally surprised her.

  A real American hero, if that's what you wanted.

  Sam ran muscular, but lean. Wore a ripped barong shirt untucked over cargo shorts. Quick-witted to the point of annoyance. Gifted in invention, in understanding physical things, but dumb as a rock in terms of relationships.

  Would rather be surfing, but maybe she could train him over time.

  Schnier was pre-occupied, but Sam waved as they walked over to their welcoming committee.

  The clerk hung back, so the analyst hit up Sam first. "Welcome to the LCS Johnbee, sir."

  "Thanks, sergeant." Sam laughed. "Is that really the name?"

  "Yes, sir." He narrowed his eyes. Leaned his neck forward. Maybe too inexperienced to get the reference.

  "In that case, I wanna go home." Seeing the analyst's confusion, Sam shook his head. "Never mind. I'll explain later. What's the sitch?"

  "Everyone made it on-board. Our," He glanced over at Michelle, "agency contact required us to evacuate and destroy the largest pieces of equipment, but we've been able to procure spares from ship's stores."

  "Good. Write it up and send me an email with a summary. According to the medics, I'm supposed to go straight to the infirmary for them to analyze my bruising, so I'll check back in with the platoon when the bloodsuckers let me out. Thank them for me in the meantime for taking care of business while I was away."

  "Roger that, sir." The analyst departed.

  This left the clerk. Schnier glared at him. "You didn't come out here to meet me in order to give me good news, so what is it now? All these requisitions from the Navy driven us over budget again?"

  "No, sir. I mean, yes, sir, they have, but that's not why I'm here." He winced.

  "Out with it."

  "Remember that clerical error at the resort? Well, in the confusion of having to clear out and destroy our records and then reconstitute everything here aboard ship, our limpet mine order may not have been canceled."

  Schnier's already ruddy complexion turned beet red. Any moment, he was going to pop a vein. "Our order?"

  "You signed off on it, sir."

  "May not have been canceled?"

  The clerk pointed at the freighter steaming alongside. Its deck crew worked to package crates with netting and lift harnesses. Got them ready to send over to the LCS.

  "They brought a mail-call from 7th fleet, along with a re-supply run. The manifest has limpet mines on it for us."

  The Seahawk they'd arrived on was simultaneously refueling and getting rigged with a cargo hook to pick up the freighter's pre-packaged loads.

  "What? Already? It takes us a month to get a case of ammo, but they've already sent us a dozen limpet mines?"

  The clerk was practically at attention, his back was so stiff. "Yes, sir. Each about the size of a beach ball, sir."

  "Soldier, you better give your heart to Jesus, 'cause your butt is gonna belong to the platoon sergeant after I tell him about this." Schnier pointed. "Go. Just go. Get out of my sight."

  "Yes, sir. Uh… one more thing, sir."

  Schnier sighed.

  "The Major called for you. Wants you to call him back just as soon as you step on the ship, sir."

  "I'll bet he does. Now git!"

  The clerk saluted and then ran.

  Schnier turned to Michelle and Sam. Shook his head. "That clerk is so dumb he couldn't pour piss out of a boot with the instructions branded on the heel."

  Now that the other soldiers had left, Michelle gave him a hug. Grabbed Sam as well and pulled him into her embrace.

  "At least you two came back to me. Had me worried there!"

  Schnier softened a little against her. "Oh, you know this is what we do. Just another day at the office."

  Sam chuckled. Poked Schnier in the side. "Dude. Didn't know you cared."

  Schnier growled under his breath. "I need to go call the major. Find out if I'm totally done for, or if there is some way to get off this bronc."

  Michelle released them.

  "Good luck. You can tell him the agency said it was all necessary to the mission, although I may have to call in some favors to help pay for everything."

  "I'll try it, thanks, but I haven't even reported our casualties to him. I'm burnt gravy on a charred biscuit once he finds that out on top of me blowing our budget."

  Schnier slumped his shoulders. Turned to leave.

  Michelle looked at Sam. "Let me call Larrikowal and arrange to get our tech teams together back at the resort's beach in order to share methods, and then I'll come find you in the infirmary."

  Sam smiled. "Good. That'll give me time to check in on Watkins and Madsen before I allow the leach-monsters to stuff me into one of their beds."

  With her and Schnier done, really over, that made her choice easy. And she was the one doing all the choosing, as always.

  PART III: Spratly Struggle

  Chapter Thirty: Good and Bad News

  Larrikowal spoke with the Defense Secretary over an encrypted line, patched into the cabin the Americans temporarily assigned him.

  "We flooded them out, sir. The American captive's suggestion, actually. Once we had the stream diverted into the highest cave entrance we could find, it was simple. They tried to break out several times, and we filled a couple of holes to keep the water in, but my force covered all the exits."

  Dorenza's spoke with a gravelly voice, even over the radio-telephone line. "Excellent work. Anything of interest?"

  "We need to wait for the cave to fully drain before we know for sure, but anything on paper or in electronic form was likely soaked, I'm afraid.
Better than getting good soldiers killed, though. That's a win for our side."

  "That's too bad, but be sure I'm copied on your report of whatever is found."

  "Of course, sir. I will also send you video of our captures. Of wet, bedraggled terrorists climbing out of holes with their hands up. I think you'll enjoy it. Might be something the department can publicize to show our efforts against the jihadis who shot at the Speaker."

  Dorenza laughed. "Yes, I can see how that will be effective. Good idea. I'll get the public affairs department working on it once I've seen the videos myself. You know what the reward for outstanding work is, don't you major?"

  Major? A slip of the tongue, or did this mean a promotion? "Yes, sir. More work."

  "Exactly. I'm putting you in charge of the team of technical and intelligence analysts who will review all the new data we've gotten from the Americans, plus what we'll develop from the techniques they share with us."

  "Me, sir? I'm more of a front-line leader, sir."

  "Don't argue. After this, I trust you to do the right thing. That's rarer than you think. Besides, you already know the details, no need to bring someone else in. Unfortunately, a post of this importance requires someone of higher rank, so once I push the paperwork through, you're going to have to get someone to pin your new insignia on."

  Larrikowal wasn't sure about babysitting a bunch of intelligence analysts and technical types, nor about the politics of a promotion, but Sheila would be over the moon with excitement. Probably expect him to marry her.

  Sheesh… he could afford to marry her now.

  "Sir, yes, sir."

  * * *

  "If I had someone besides Harper there to take over, I'd relieve you right now for incompetence!"

  Schnier winced and shifted his ear away from the secure radio tied into the ship's antenna systems.

  Major Williams could make a rodeo clown cry.

  "Sir, no excuses, sir." Schnier sat on his bunk. No point in standing when his CO couldn't see him.

  "As I understand it, you have that screw-up Harper back. All that's left is to hand over top secret technical methods to the Filipinos, and then you can drag that sorry excuse for a bankrupt independent command back here?"

  "Yes, sir. The CIA Station Chief requested the technology transfer to our allies. There's one more matter, sir. An American citizen held captive by Omar and his Korean supplier. They fled with her in a PLAN missile boat. We plan to recover her."