by Margaret Kay
They were led below deck to a bunkroom with sixteen empty bunks. A small area with tables and chairs, and a monitor above the table, was at the far end of the room. A large, communal bathroom was within. One of the ship’s officers from CIC, the Combat Information Center, entered the room and introduced himself. His name was Commander Moyes. He activated the monitor on the wall over the tables and chairs.
The monitor on the wall came to life, displaying Shepherd. “We have the location of the human trafficking victims,” he said, getting right to it. The monitor display switched over to an aerial view of the port. “There are two containers near this warehouse on the far east end of the port that have been identified as your targets.” A red box was drawn around the location. “Your opposition has been identified as twelve to twenty armed Tangos. They will be in position around the containers, at the far end of the dock, and within the warehouse. The regular military and police have already been pulled from the area.”
Mother suspected they had been pulled from the area before the area was alive with Tangos and victims. Not only were the Algerians not getting involved, they had turned a blind eye to the activity as soon as it began on that end of the port. He wondered what had changed that made them reach out to the U.S. The Algerian military was known to be one of the best in the region. Certainly, they could have successfully taken this on had the government wanted to intervene. And they could have done it before this many victims were loaded up and ready to be shipped out.
The satellite picture of the port zeroed in on the area. It showed the warehouse with stacks of shipping containers situated all around it. But there were two single shipping containers sitting side by side directly in front of the doors to the warehouse.
“The two shipping containers are sitting between several large stacks of containers. Looks like good high places to position a few snipers,” Lambchop said.
“And a crane at the end of the dock looks like a good position for Overwatch,” Jackson said. He was Alpha Team’s best sniper. He’d made shots in Afghanistan that were still classified.
“I’m liking the top of the warehouse office too,” Sloan, Delta Team’s sniper and medic added.
Cooper nodded. “Sloan, you and the Birdman will be Overwatch on the crane. Jackson, you’ve got the top of the warehouse office. On these two stacks of containers will be me and Taco. Between the four locations, we’ll create a kill box. We’ll take out any Tangos in the zone and be in position if any more come from inside the warehouse once the operation commences.” He flipped his hand, palm up, to view his watch, the face worn on the underside of his wrist. “We’ll go in an hour before dawn. Get our Overwatch position secured first, followed by the three other raised positions before the remainder of the team moves in per Overwatch’s directions.”
“We take out all the Tangos, crack open the containers, and free the victims before hightailing it out of there as quickly as we went in,” Lambchop added.
“Keep it simple. Cover and move in standard two-by-two formation. The ground teams are team one Lambchop and Mother, team two Xena and Razor, team three Doc and Handsome, and team four Powder and Moe.” He used each member’s calls sign, which was how it would be from that moment on until the operation was completed.
The CIC Officer nodded. “We can get you onto land and in position in plenty of time to have the operation begin before dawn.” He motioned to the map. “The chopper will drop you and recover you here.” He pointed to the eastern edge of the port. “Flight time is twenty-two minutes. You’re looking at cloudy skies and winds at eight knots from the south for the duration of the operation. Let me know what else you may need from us to support you.”
Cooper nodded. “Thank you, nothing right now.”
“A small cargo ship, the Lions, will dock at zero nine hundred. You must be out of there before it does, or you’ll have a whole new set of assholes to deal with,” Shepherd said.
“Is there someone in place to receive the freed women?” Madison ‘Xena’ Miller asked.
“That’s a very good question,” Shepherd said. “After all threats are neutralized and the victims are freed, I will notify my contact who will relay the message to the authorities in Algeria that we are in contact with. We’ll find out then.”
“This incoming ship, the Lions, is it the transport ship those containers will be loaded onto?” Madison asked.
“Affirmative,” Shepherd answered.
“None of those women can remain in that area when that ship docks. Those on that ship know exactly what cargo they are coming in to get. We cannot allow them to reacquire those women.”
“Easy, Xena,” Shepherd said. “We’ll make sure they are secure before you withdraw.”
“I’ll be on comms from the CIC, callsign Seahawk,” Moyes said. “I’ll watch that ship and let you know its status. We’ll get you out of there before it comes in.”
“And I’ll be on with our Ops Team,” Shepherd said. “Gear up and report to the flight deck.” The monitor went blank.
“I’ll have a petty officer stationed outside the door to bring you to the flight deck when you’re ready. This room will be sealed, so leave whatever gear you need to here,” Moyes said. Then he dismissed himself.
The team changed into their black fatigues and tactical gear. They loaded their weapons. Mother secured two semiautomatic handguns onto his right hip and thigh. He also had several breaching charges ready, just in case they had to blow any doors open. Carter ‘Moe’ Tessman on Charlie Team worked with him and had several breaching charges ready as well.
When each person indicated they were ready, Cooper nodded to Lambchop.
“Heavenly Father protect your sons and daughters on this mission. Let us find our targets well and unharmed. Help us liberate them from evil. Keep all innocents from our line of sight. Have mercy on the souls that are redeemable. Forgive us for the lives we must take today. We pray this in the name of your son, Jesus Christ, Amen.”
“Amen,” resounded through the room.
The team filed out and into the hallway and followed the Petty Officer the short distance to the flight deck. There, he turned them over to a boatswain’s mate. “Your bird has been refueled and is ready to go,” he said. “Your flight crew is already on board.”
They followed him to the chopper and climbed aboard. The door was closed. As Mother watched the Birdman run through his pre-mission ritual, which would normally involve kissing his dog tags three times, he smiled as he watched him kiss his gloved left hand and tap his right shoulder where their trackers were installed, three times instead. Then he made the sign of the cross.
Mother’s eyes shifted to Lambchop; whose eyes were closed. Mother knew he was in silent prayer for the redemption of his soul for any lives he must take today. He’d often wondered how Lambchop, the team pastor, reconciled the job they did and the faith he had.
Mother knew many of the others had rituals. Cooper meditated, Madison did what she called chair yoga, space permitting, contorting her body into uncomfortable looking stretches. She had struck several poses in the bunkroom as they readied for this mission. Doc and Jackson both would stare at pictures of their families on their phones. Mother himself normally played his word games on his phone, but he’d already completed his available games in the bunkroom.
He gazed out the helicopter window into the darkness. The twenty-two-minute flight seemed to take forever. He kicked himself for not waiting to play his games. He removed his phone from his pocket, hoping a few opponents had already played moves. No one had. He gazed for a second at the cartoon avatar of his favorite opponent, willing a game from her to pop in as his turn. He had ten games against her. When nothing came, he put the phone away, feeling an uncharacteristic restlessness.
Bravo
The chopper pulled up to the end of the vacant section of pier that was pointed out in the mission briefing as their LZ. The doors opened, and the team exited on both sides, spilling out onto the dark, long pier. Within s
econds, the chopper pulled away and headed back out to sea.
The team maintained proper distance and covered each other as they each made their way up the pier. They gathered as planned alongside the outermost wall of stacked up containers near the crane. They stayed on alert as the Undertaker and the Birdman climbed up the ladder of the tall crane to assume their position of Overwatch for the mission.
“In position,” the Birdman’s voice came through their comms. He and the Undertaker called out the locations of Tangos in sight. Doc and Handsome went with Jax to provide cover while he got into position on the roof of the warehouse office building. Xena and Razor broke from the group to assist Cooper with getting into position on top of a three-high stack of containers on the east end of the target area. Powder and Moe did the same, shadowing Taco as he moved towards the container stack on the west where he’d take up position as well.
“In position,” Cooper broadcast.
“Coop, got a Tango on the west side of your container stack,” the Undertaker advised.
Cooper moved so that he could observe and shoot the reported Tango when the go order was given by Overwatch.
“In position,” Taco was heard next.
“I need you to watch my six, Taco.” The Undertaker ordered. “Your location is clear for the moment.”
Then Jackson announced that he was in position too.
Overwatch called out the position of four Tangos. Jackson identified three more, assigning them to various team members. Each team on the ground moved in, stealthily.
“Hold your position, Xena, Razor, there is a Tango on patrol just around the corner of the container in front of you.” Madison and Garcia froze where they were, weapons held at the ready, waiting to hear where the Tango was headed.
“Overwatch, I’ve got two assholes poking around too close to your twenty for comfort. Call this sooner than later. If they get too curious, I’m going to have to take them out,” Jackson whispered into his comms.
“Roger that, Jax,” the Undertaker said. “I see them.” He and the Birdman were perfectly still on the crane platform. He was sure they were out of these two guys’ line of sight, even if they looked up. He moved his scope and looked at the warehouse building. Lights were on in the office building portion. Through the windows, he could see four Tangos eating at a table. “Four Tangos in sight in the office building. That makes thirteen identified. I’m sure there are more.”
“Roger that,” Lambchop’s voice came. “They’ll come slithering out when the excitement starts. Everyone, stay on your toes.”
“Jax, you got these two assholes below me?” the Undertaker asked.
“Roger that, just waiting for your go order.”
“Hold on, I’ve got some activity to the east of the building.”
The Birdman adjusted his scope and observed the activity his partner was calling out. “We’ve got two more who just stepped out to the east through a side door. Doc, they’ll most likely be coming around from your six when the shooting starts. Be ready. Your focus is now at your six.”
“Roger, Birdman,” Doc’s voice replied. “Two targets acquired.”
Through his scope, Sherman saw that Doc and Handsome now were in position with their scopes trained back towards the two men who were having a smoke on the side of the building.
“Go, go, go!” Sloan whispered through his comms as he focused his scope on the window of the warehouse. He’d take out as many of the four inside as he could. He squeezed the trigger on Tango number one and without hesitating took out two more within two seconds, before they’d had the time to react.
“Tango at two o’clock,” the Birdman told him, pointing out his next target. All around the area, the muzzle flashes of his teammates’ weapons identified their locations. He heard the discharge of their suppressed weapons as they made surgical hits, eliminating their targets.
The door to the office opened and three men spilled out into the night, AK-47s in hand. One fired at no identifiable target, just sprayed the area to the west with a stream of fully automatic rifle fire. The Undertaker focused his sights on that man. One gentle trigger pull, and the man dropped where he stood.
Approaching the warehouse from straight on, once they’d cleared the maze of stacked up containers, Mother and Lambchop covered each other as they advanced on the two target containers. When the three men appeared from inside the warehouse office, they didn’t hesitate. They squeezed off several rounds, bringing the remaining two down.
Then they took up position around the corners of one of the target containers, their aim trained on the building. Xena and Razor did the same at the corners of the other container.
“All threats in the yard neutralized,” the Undertaker announced.
“All teams except one and two head for the warehouse building. Teams one and two, hold position where you are,” Cooper ordered. “We’ll make sure the warehouse is secure before we open those containers.”
Mother watched as the other members of the team on the ground appeared. They all swarmed the warehouse building. Through his comms he heard them move through the building, clearing one area at a time. Moe and Handsome remained inside the building, covering the front entrance. Powder and Doc, medics, made their way back to the two target containers. Once the warehouse was secure, Lambchop then moved to cover the side door to the east.
“Get the containers open,” Cooper ordered. He and Taco had descended from their perches.
Mother examined the lock on one of the containers and then the other. He didn’t know how close to the door any of the women might be, so he didn’t want to use a charge that would penetrate the metal of the container. He selected a very small breaching charge he’d prepared. He pressed it to the lock and took a few steps back. “Fire in the hole,” he announced. Then he detonated it.
The blast was what he expected. A hit from the butt of his rifle opened the lock the remainder of the way. He pulled the lock off, worked the rusted handle, and swung the door open. Madison stood beside him. A foul stench hit them first. It was sweat, and body odor combined with feces and urine. It was overpowering and it turned Mother’s stomach. He lifted the scarf he wore around his neck, so it covered his nose and mouth. In the darkness within the container they saw movement, swaying. Madison activated the light on her helmet. The beam revealed women and girls, crammed together tightly, sitting on the floor of the container.
“Nahn huna liainqadhik,” She told them, Arabic for we are here to rescue you. When they still looked scared and did not move, she added, “nahn asdaqa.” We are friends.
“Maybe they are too weak to stand,” Mother suggested. He took a step forward and reached a hand to the woman who sat closest.
She still looked hesitant. Madison repeated that they were there to rescue them and that they were friends. Finally, the woman placed her hand in Mother’s. He pulled her to her feet. She stumbled and wobbled. He steadied her. “It’s okay. You’re safe,” he said. Not that she could understand him.
He pulled on her to take a step forward, out of the container. The sound of a chain pulling against metal was heard. She only moved a half a step and then stumbled again. Madison angled her light down to the woman’s feet. There was a shackle around her ankle. She was chained to the floor. Madison knelt down and examined the shackle. It was locked. A key was needed.
“Problem at the containers,” Madison broadcast. “The women are chained to the floor. We need the key.” Then she yelled to the women in the container that they would find the key and get them all freed.
“Search all the bodies and the office building for keys. Someone has to have the keys to these shackles,” Cooper ordered. “Get the other container open,” he ordered Mother.
Mother repeated the process on the other lock. When the door was swung open, the smell inside the second container was as bad as the first. Madison stepped over and talked to these women in Arabic as well, just as the first rays of the sun reached the container.
�
�We’re about to get fucked on our timeline,” Cooper said. “Seahawk, do you copy?”
“Affirmative,” Moyes replied.
“Give me a twenty on that ship.”
“Watching it. You have about thirty mics till you need to get the hell out of there. Your chopper is on standby.”
Cooper glanced at all the women in the shipping containers. There had to be nearly one hundred women and girls per container. Once the key was found, it would be a lengthy manual process to unchain each of them and get them out of the containers so their medics could evaluate them. “Negative, Seahawk, we will not be ready by then. Big Bear, we have control of the situation and have recovered the targets. Now would be a good time to pass the word that we need a disposition for them.”
“Roger that, Coop,” Shepherd’s voice came. “Seahawk, what can we do to delay that boat?”
“I’m open to suggestions of how,” Moyes said.
