Sahara Dawn
A Chris Collins CIA Thriller #3
David Berens
John Hopton
Contents
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Sahara Dawn
1. Convoy
2. Weapons
3. Off the Record
4. Leavin’ On A Jet Plane
5. World War III
6. Plan B
7. Once Bitten
8. Twice Shy
9. One Mistake
10. Broken Record
11. Future So Bright
12. Islands In The Stream
13. Rendezvous
14. Say Hello
15. One Man
16. Outnumbered
17. Washed Clean
18. Hall Of Mirrors
19. Museum of Antiquities
20. 122 Fahrenheit
21. Blood Of The Earth
22. A Walk In The Woods
23. A Fire Still Burning
24. Valley Of The Kings
25. Bound For Africa
26. Tea For Two
27. A Million Corpses
28. A Long Slumber
29. Smuggler’s Blues
30. Vetted
31. Exodus
32. American Zippos
33. Into Hell
34. Breaking And Entering
35. One Minute
36. Slipping Away
37. A Touch Of Green
Epilogue - Always
Also by David Berens
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Sahara Dawn
A Chris Collins CIA Thriller #3
1 Convoy
Adana Air Base, Southern Turkey
Silence had descended. It was heavy, deep, and black like the inside of a velvet-lined coffin. A bead of sweat ran down the nose of a young marine who was standing perfectly still. Only his eyes moved, as he scanned the flat, unbroken farmland that surrounded the remote military base. The air base had been established during the early years of the Cold War and had been used jointly by US and Turkish forces ever since. Military personnel often found it was an unexciting place to be stationed. Not tonight.
Tonight, tactical nuclear weapons were being transported away from the base. These weapons were much more compact than the strategic nukes that could destroy cities and even end civilization itself. They were designed to be used in battlefield situations, a tough balancing act of striking a punishing blow against an enemy while avoiding widespread collateral disaster. But even small nuclear weapons are extremely dangerous … especially in the wrong hands.
The United States government had been under pressure from military experts to remove them from this part of the world. Along with being too close to the Syrian border, and the chaos that raged on the other side, the weapons were more threatened now that relations with Turkey were becoming strained. This was no longer a safe place for some of America’s most lethal weapons to be stored.
Despite being the youngest member of his unit, the marine was well aware of the importance of what he was being asked to do that night. He and his fellow Marines were tasked with ensuring safe transport from the bunker to the transport aircraft waiting on the flight line.
Pvt. Travis Raines scanned the landscape in front of him yet again as the rumble of a powerful engine started up behind. The marine knew that the noise came from the belly of a Safeguard Transporter, or SGT, a tractor-trailer made for the sole purpose of transporting nuclear weapons. These armored vehicles were fitted with a range of ingenious devices to thwart attacks and hijacking attempts, including nozzles in the trailer that could release tear gas to stop hijackers in their tracks. Some even had dispensers for a strange, sticky foam that would prevent attackers from moving, freezing them in position. That’s if the attackers could make it past the security codes and into the trailer itself. Naturally, nobody wanted to take the chance of finding out how well these vehicles could really defend themselves.
Heavily armed US military personnel flanked the vehicle as it made its way very slowly across the asphalt like it was part of a procession rehearsing a funeral. While the Marines guarded the SGT, Turkish forces patrolled the perimeter fence. This alliance had never been easy, but with terrorist organizations operating in the area, all help was welcome.
Raines laid footstep after footstep on the road as he walked alongside the SGT in the convoy which also included black SUVs, full of more heavily armed guards, at the front and rear. Normally, he was used to traveling in Humvees mounted with machine guns, but things were different in so many ways over here. Security jobs mostly fell to Air Force security, but they were spread thin and the Marines had been authorized to help out.
Progress was sure and steady, but tension was extremely high. Raines felt a tightness in his whole body, something he had not felt at any other time during his service. The collection of vehicles was now halfway across the base. The sound of the aircraft’s engine began to drown out the engine of the truck, and Raines could see red lights flashing on the runway. The weapons would soon be on their way to safety.
Four men stepped out of the darkness and onto the road in front of the leading SUV. Their weapons were raised. Adrenaline surged into Raines’s veins. He knew that no part of the highly planned procedure involved pointing weapons in the direction of friendly personnel. He raised his own weapon, but things were moving fast. More men flooded towards the location and quickly surrounded the SUV. Raines could see they were in Turkish military uniform, and they were shouting in a mixture of Turkish and broken English. They demanded that the US personnel exit the vehicle.
The marine then heard someone shout from inside the SUV.
“Your government will execute you for this! Stop while you still can….”
It had to be the CIA agent embedded with the convoy. A marine wouldn’t give them the chance to face their government for execution.
“Our government will come nowhere near us!” replied a Turkish officer. He had thick, round shoulders and his voice boomed through the night. “The coup starts now!”
There was rage in the man’s voice. Raines had already seen enough in his short career to know when people were carrying out their training in a professional way, and when they were starting to unravel while holding a gun. This situation was the latter. It was likely that all of the officer’s comrades were also filled with the same anger. If they were starting a coup, they obviously had some deep-seated hatred for everything they had been going through for a long time. There would be no quick stand down.
The American troops next to the SGT had their weapons raised, but the men in the SUV did not. They did not want to put their comrades on foot at risk. And they could provoke Turkish troops to fire through the windows, destroy the glass, and maybe even take lives. Even before the bullet-resistant glass gave way and finally shattered, all hell would have broken loose.
Eyes were locked. Nobody, on either side, was going to back down. Not for anything. A standoff. The personnel inside the SUV all had their hands on their heads. One of them gestured to the Turkish officer that he was going to lower one of his hands in order to open the doors. The officer nodded. The doors opened and four Marines exited the vehicle with their hands still touching their helmets in surrender. Turkish soldiers forced their heads towards the
ground and made them kneel.
The other American soldiers were momentarily stunned. They had not planned for this. They had trained for an attack and potential hijacking by terrorists, who wouldn’t have been able to get so close, so easily. The Turkish traitors had been hiding in plain sight.
There was also significant doubt over whether it would be acceptable to fire on a supposed ally. The Turkish government was a military ally of the American government, but clearly these troops were no longer allies of anyone.
More Turkish soldiers suddenly arrived on the scene. Some of them came in a 4 x 4 carrying towing equipment that looked sturdy enough to tow the SGT and the weapons it carried.
Raines quickly figured out what was going on. Instead of trying to access the highly secured vehicle, the rogue troops would just take the whole thing. And by the looks of it, they would take it using the very SUV they had forced the Americans to exit. They only had to tow it as far as their own aircraft that was no doubt waiting somewhere on the base. Once it was in their possession, they could figure out how to access it later. It was a simple and effective plan.
“Lower your weapons, or they die one by one!” a shrill Turkish soldier screeched at the Marines who were still on their feet. The Americans did not lower their weapons.
“Do it now!” he shouted again. The ten seconds had been too long for the Turkish officer who had declared the coup. He put his gun to the head of one of the men who was kneeling on the ground. Blood exploded into the air. Raines gasped and began to squeeze on his trigger. Then he realized the blood had come from the head of the Turkish officer.
His fellow Marines around him had opened fire in defense of their own men who could no longer defend themselves. A symphony of fire and noise engulfed the base. Training now kicked in, and Raines didn’t have to think anymore. He provided covering fire for the men who were quickly advancing on the Turkish troops. The Turks came back with everything they had, firing off round after round. They were shouting at each other, trying to adjust their plan now that the enemy had decided not to go along with it.
Raines heard an awful howl of pain cutting through the noise of gunfire. A Turkish soldier who had been readying the towing gear had been taken out by a Marine.
“Do not let them hook that thing up!” screamed the Marines’ commanding officer. The small American force had little choice but to focus on the objective of defending the SGT. There was no way to know if they had the numbers to get on top of the situation and dominate the Turkish forces. All that was left to do was to fight for as long as they had breath in their lungs.
Raines could see that more Turkish troops were moving towards the SUV, trying to get the towing gear connected to the SGT. He fired into the shoulder of a man whose hands were on the cable. He was still unsure whether head shots were the right thing to do, given that he was firing on supposedly allied soldiers. But the shoulder shot had worked. The man’s body bent backwards as it slumped to the ground.
A massive explosion filled the air, and smoke stopped Raines from seeing. From somewhere across the base, an RPG had been fired in the direction of the convoy. It had blown apart the rear SUV that had been vacated by Marines just seconds earlier. Raines was wide-eyed with disbelief that someone would land an RPG so close to a vehicle carrying nuclear material. The whole situation seemed like total madness.
But more RPGs came raining in, and more Turkish troops were entering the scene. Raines knew that the Turkish forces charged with guarding this base were all under the direction of one commanding officer. Clearly, that commander was involved in the coup. And he wouldn’t have risked proceeding with his plan if he didn’t have the vast majority, if not all, of his subordinates on board.
The Marines were heavily outnumbered. Raines decided that if he wasn’t going to make it out of there alive, he was going to die defending that vehicle. With his gun raised, he sprinted towards the SUV that the traitors planned to use for towing. Nothing was in his mind except getting to that location and getting in the way of those plans. Another explosion. The world went black.
When Raines regained consciousness, he was flat on his back looking up at the stars. He could feel that his breathing was labored, but he could hear nothing. A face appeared above him. It was the CIA agent who had been embedded with the convoy. He was mouthing words, but in his dazed and deafened state Raines had no idea what was being said. The agent’s eyes were closed by a bullet. A second later, another bullet closed Raines’ eyes for the final time.
2 Weapons
Palace of the Sun, in the desert outside of Buja, Okapi
The Butcher stood in the Hall of Mirrors, admiring himself. He had recently been fitted with a brand new military uniform, adorned with sparkling medals. The design, with gold and red trim on bright white pants and jacket, was not the official design of any other uniform anywhere else in the world. He simply liked the style and had instructed his tailors to make it. Just like he had requested that an appropriate number of medals of honor be prepared. The honor for which he was receiving the medals was never specified nor questioned. He had not served in any military unit at any time during his life.
He had, however, attempted a coup at the age of twelve. Having realized that he would follow his father as leader of the country, he found that he was very eager to take power and all the trappings that came with it as quickly as possible. Especially the women. At that young age, he had already noticed that many different women came and went from his father’s private quarters, and none of them were his mother.
And so, secretly, he tried to communicate with senior military figures he encountered around the palace. Passing notes and whispers, gathering allies. Most of them had laughed. One of them reported the attempt to his father.
The president took his son into a private room and told him that he was proud of him. He was proud of him for his bravery and initiative. But that if he ever tried such a thing again, he would be fed to the dogs.
The Butcher was internationally infamous for his cruelty, his suppression of human rights, and his unwillingness to bend to diplomatic pressure no matter how powerful his adversary. In his royal court, he was also famous for the size of his head. Not figuratively, in the sense of having an oversized ego—though his ego was certainly oversized—but literally. His courtiers noted that he must have one of the largest heads in the world. It was grotesque and inflamed, like it had been pumped full of air, or had been crudely crafted from papier-mâché by a schoolchild creating a caricature. Other observers thought it seemed as if he must be suffering from a horrific disease but, unfortunately for most, the disease never progressed.
The strangest thing about the infamy he had for this physical feature was that many people thought about it but nobody ever spoke of it. It would be more than their life was worth. The majority of his courtiers all shared the same thought without ever expressing it. Plenty of his subjects were of the same mind, but seeing him on TV didn’t quite have the same impact as standing beside him, seeing eyes seemingly the size of poker chips roll around in a square, chunky cranium that looked like it was exhausting just to hold upright.
His hefty midsection, severely bloated from years of gluttony and a particular fondness for brandy and foie gras, should have been enough to balance out his appearance. But his spindly, sparrow-like legs removed any possibility of balance. After enough brandies and enough pressure on those skinny legs, the possibility of balance was literally removed. Somehow, nobody seemed to notice when he stumbled around his palace embarrassingly drunk and out of control.
As he gazed adoringly at his own reflection, he managed to ignore the flaws in his appearance and simply admired the uniform. The Hall of Mirrors in which he was standing was an exact replica of its namesake in the Palace of Versailles outside Paris, France. The opulent room had the same dimensions, being 240 feet long and 34 feet wide with a ceiling 40-feet high. Many of the 350 mirrors stretched the full height of the room from floor to ceiling. They reflected the vast chandel
iers and the exquisite frescoes that depicted the life of The Butcher. These frescoes appeared as if they had been crafted by Michelangelo himself. From a distance, at least...
The Butcher had stopped to admire himself as he made his way through his lavish palace towards one of the state rooms, where he was about to hold a high-level meeting with his generals and a handful of his most trusted advisors. A stooped and fawning manservant pointed the way through the palace with an open palm, as if The Butcher couldn’t remember his way around a building he had lived in since he was a child.
The manservant opened every door, except for the final set of doors that led to the state room. At that point, The Butcher shoved the servant aside so that he could fling the heavy doors open himself to create a glorious entrance. He stood in the doorway and assumed his generals were mesmerized by the resplendent sight before them. Standing behind their chairs, they applauded. As always, they didn’t sit until their leader had.
“A new world is upon us,” The Butcher declared after sitting at the head of the 30-ft long table. He always liked to begin his meetings with grandiosity. “The balance of power will soon tip heavily in our favor.”
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