Black Operations- the Spec-Ops Action Pack

by Eric Meyer

  "Only one?"

  Guy chuckled. "Yeah, but it's a big one. We're next door to police headquarters."

  Talley thought for a few moments. "Is there a back entrance?"

  "That's a negative. The front entrance is the only way in or out, and it's in full view of the cops."

  "Copy that. We'll think of something. Sit tight, and we’ll be with you as soon as we can get there."

  "Understood, Echo Two out."

  Talley explained the situation to Rovere. "We have to get them out, the question is how?"

  Dom grimaced. "It doesn't sound like it's getting any easier."

  Miles Preston was standing nearby, listening to their conversation.

  "It never does.” He turned to Preston. “Avoiding a nuclear holocaust is like that. It tends to be a bit more complicated," He fixed the CIA man with a hard stare, "and it's not for cowards or the fainthearted either. Make up your mind. We're not backing off. I'm going to get my men out and see this thing through to the end. Are you with us or not?"

  He nodded slowly, reluctantly, "Okay, I guess I'm with you. What do you want me to do?"

  "We're taking the Scorpion back into the center of Tehran to bring Guy and his people out. I want you to interrogate Majidi. He has information, and it needs an expert to get it out of him." He smiled at Preston, "I guess it's the kind of thing they train you to do at Langley?"

  "Yeah, I'll give it a shot. Believe me, by the time I've finished, I'll know what his grandmother had for dinner last night. But you should know that if he doesn't know what you're looking for, I won't be able to get it out of him."

  "Maybe not, not exactly. But you're an intelligence officer, so you should be able to piece together what he tells you and come up with some ideas that will take us forward. It seems he’s not Arash, but I reckon he knows, or suspects, who he is. He wouldn't be human if he hadn't been curious enough to find out at some time in the past."

  "Yeah, I see where you're coming from," Preston nodded. "As soon as you leave, I'll start taking him apart. By the time you get back, if you get back, I should have something for you."

  "We'll get back." He turned to Rovere, "Stay here, and make sure we don't have any unwelcome visitors. I'll take Buchmann with me. He can drive, and Vince can ride shotgun. If we get into a situation, I guess we may need a sniper."

  "You'll also need an interpreter," Anika said, coming up to him.

  He shook his head, "No, not this time. We haven't got the space to spare in the Scorpion, and besides, I want you to help Miles. It could well be that a different viewpoint on what he gets out of Majidi will give us the answers we are looking for."

  “I still think you may need an interpreter, someone with local knowledge, but..."

  "But what is far more important is extracting everything that Majidi has in his mind and piecing it all together. There’s only one priority, and that’s to find Arash, the Archer, and stop him getting the nukes."

  "I'll do my best. Take care, Tehran is alive with security forces after your last trip into town."

  "We'll be fine. They’ll just take us for a Revolutionary Guard APC. Heinrich, fire up the Scorpion. Vince, get aboard. Let's go and bring our people back."

  He climbed into the turret. Buchmann revved the huge diesel engine, and they roared out of the derelict factory in a black cloud of diesel fumes and smoke. He gave the German the directions as they drove, guided by the GPS that would take them to the church where Guy's squad was holed up. He estimated they were within two clicks of their destination, when he saw it at the same time as Buchmann called him.

  "Roadblock ahead, Boss. What do you want me to do?"

  Talley stared at the pair of cop cars slewed across the road, two hundred meters ahead. The cops manning the block didn't seem unduly alarmed by the sight of a Revolutionary Guard APC coming toward them. They just stood and stared out of their aviator shades, waiting for the oncoming vehicle to come to a stop. When they were within fifty meters, one held up his hand for them to halt. Talley knew there wasn’t a chance in a million they'd get through the check.

  "Go straight through the roadblock, Buchmann. I see two cops stood there. If you can sideswipe them, it'll prevent them from calling in that they've seen us."

  "Copy that."

  The German stood on the gas pedal, and the heavy armored car increased speed. They should have jumped out of the way, but this was Iran, and everyone stopped for the cops in Iran, especially in the capital, Tehran. When Buchmann was level with them, he stamped on the brake, and even as the armored car was slewing sideways toward them, they were still rooted in astonishment and glued to the spot. It was inconceivable that anyone would dare to disobey their orders. The Scorpion slammed into them and collided with the police cruisers, squashing the two men between metal and metal. Both cars were flung out of the way as the massive hull of the armored car collided with them. Buchmann released his foot from the brake, wrenched on the track control levers, and brought the armored behemoth back on course through the gap that had opened when the squad cars were tossed aside like children's tin toys. Talley looked behind him, and all he could see was a litter of wreckage smeared with blood.

  "That was good driving, Buchmann."

  "I never did have much time for the police," the German replied.

  "Right. Slow down, we don't want to attract undue attention. We're nearly there."

  He looked around him. If anyone had seen their collision with the roadblock, it was unlikely they'd be able to respond until they were long gone. Provided they moved fast.

  "Vince, are you ready for some shooting?"

  "Any time, Boss."

  "Standby, we'll be there in a couple of minutes."

  He inspected the firing mechanism for the 76mm main gun. It seemed straightforward. There was an auto-loading mechanism that would put a new shell into the breech straight after it was fired. Adjacent to the main gun was the secondary armament, a 7.62mm machine gun. He quickly familiarized himself with the controls and made sure everything was loaded and ready for instant use. The vehicle rocked as Buchmann turned into the street, and ahead of him was a large, modern office block with a half-dozen squad cars parked outside; Police Headquarters. They cruised along the smooth, tarmac roadway, and the church came into view, next door to the cops.

  "Drive past, Buchmann. When we get to the end of the street, turn around, and we'll see if we can make the pickup."

  Buchmann acknowledged. It was time to call Guy.

  "Echo One to Echo Two. What's your situation, Guy?"

  Heinrich reached the end of the street and began making a wide turn to bring them back to the church. The communications net was silent. He called again and still silence. Vince poked his head up into the turret.

  "What do you think, Boss? Could they have been taken?"

  "It's anyone's guess. Ordinarily, I'd just stop nearby and we could go in and check the building out. But we're wearing camo gear and we'd be picked up instantly. We need to think of something more subtle."

  "I have a better idea," Buchmann called from the driver’s position. "I think it will work." Talley was about to object, but the German picked up speed until they were almost adjacent to the boarded-up church. He wrenched on the steering levers, and the Scorpion swerved to the left, its tracks ripping up the sidewalk, tearing up pieces of masonry, and hurling them left and right. He smashed the APC straight through the enormous double doors guarding the entrance. Talley barely had time to duck and cling on grimly as they struck. Broken timbers rained down over his head. Buchmann drove forward and kept the vehicle moving, through thick curtains hanging down to separate the foyer from the main area of the church, and then they were inside. It was dark, with only one ray of light piercing the gloom from a narrow window set high up above the altar. The sole movement was the dust motes swirling in the light’s beam. Talley reached forward, clicked on the searchlight, and played it around the cavernous building. There was nothing. No sound, no movement. The pews had been r
emoved, together with all the other furnishings and ornaments that would normally be present in such a building. It was just a dark empty space; a testament to the politics of bigotry practiced by Muslim countries the world over. They were quick to protest against any perceived slight or discrimination, yet even quicker to destroy any religious body they felt to be in competition with their own.

  "Buchmann, keep the engine running and turn the vehicle around. We need to be ready for a fast exit. I doubt we have more than a couple of minutes before the cops arrive from next door. Vince, come with me, we'll look around and see if there's any sign of them."

  He climbed out of the turret and stepped down to the flagstone floor. There were doors to the left and right of what had once been the high altar.

  "Vince, you check inside the right door, and I'll take the left. Make it quick."

  "Copy that."

  Both troopers ran forward, their MP7's ready to fire. He put his hand on the tarnished brass handle of the small oak door, just as it started to open.

  "Vince, cover!"

  He dived to one side and waited, his gun pointed at the widening crack in the door. A man peered out and then stepped through.

  "You made enough noise coming in to wake the dead."

  Talley stared at Guy Welland's smiling face. "Guy! Christ, man, what happened? We've been trying to contact you."

  His number two grimaced. "We hit trouble, Boss. We were pulling out after we set off the charges, and Javeed led us to this place when the cops flooded the area. I know it's next door to Police Headquarters, but he reasoned it was the last place anyone would look. Then our radios packed up for some reason, maybe interference from the transmitters next door.”

  “Javeed is here?”

  Guy shook his head. “He said he would go out and try and find transportation to get us back. That's the last we saw of him."

  "Copy that. It's good to see you, but they'll be swarming around here like flies on a turd. We need to get out now. Climb aboard the Scorpion, and we'll pull out."

  "What about Javeed? He could come back at any time," Guy pointed out.

  "There's nothing we can do. It may be that he just split and has decided to lie low somewhere. We'll worry about him later, but for the time being, we have a job to do."

  They boarded the Scorpion and Buchmann drove forward. As the vehicle nosed out through the wrecked front doors of the church, he stopped. The place was alive with police. To the left the street was blocked with a half-dozen squad cars, and to the right they'd commandeered a big, articulated semi-trailer rig. A cordon of armed men was arranged in a semi-circle in front of them, and in the center of their ranks an officer stood with a loudhailer. He shouted something in Persian that echoed up and down the street. Talley ignored him and measured the situation to the right and left. He figured the weak spot was the rig to the right of them.

  "Buchmann, I'll clear a gap past that rig. Get ready to move as soon as you have enough room to squeeze through."

  "Copy that."

  "What do you want me to do, Boss?"

  He looked down at Vince and grinned. "Nothing. If this doesn't work, about the only option we are left with is prayer."

  He climbed down inside the turret and slammed the hatch shut. He shuddered. The clang as iron hit iron was loud, like a death knell, the lid of their coffin closing. He put his head to the optical sights of the 76mm main gun, and the huge semi-trailer came into view. He used the elevation control to bring the barrel down. It was a difficult shot. The join between the tractor and the trailer was a narrow target, and he knew as soon as he opened fire, the cops would call in their heavy artillery. Iran, like most Muslim dictatorships, had no shortage of heavy artillery ready to use against their own people. The cop was still shouting into the loudhailer. He pulled the trigger and winced as the shell crashed out of the barrel, deafening him with the crash of the shot. It was well aimed, and a small space opened between tractor and the trailer. Buchmann stamped down on the pedal, and the Scorpion lurched forward, gaining momentum. The police opened fire, and small caliber bullets peppered the hull so that the interior of the armored vehicle was like being inside a metal box caught in a raging hailstorm. He ignored the cacophony. They were safe enough inside the armor-plated cabin. At least, until the Iranians brought up something heavier, which would be soon. Through the viewport he could see the gap he'd hit with the shell, but the unit still partially blocked the way through, badly twisted and broken, but still joined.

  "Boss, what do I..."

  "Hit it, Heinrich. It's our only chance. You have to go through it and smash the trailer apart from the tractor. If you stop, we're dead."

  The German grunted and concentrated on pointing the APC exactly at what he estimated to be the weakest point. The tracks hammered on the tarmac as the Scorpion rumbled forward, faster and faster, churning up chunks of roadway as it gathered pace. Talley heard a shouted, 'Hold on' from Heinrich, and he gripped the breech of the gun to steady himself as they hit. The forward momentum of the armored vehicle smashed into the wreckage and almost broke through. Almost, but it held, and Buchmann had to reduce power to the tracks as they skidded on the tarmac, digging deeper and deeper ruts that may as well have been their grave. Then the first shell cracked out from behind them and exploded on the semi-trailer. He whirled to look behind and saw the Iranians had reacted fast. Too fast, they’d brought up a light anti-tank gun, a wheeled artillery piece that was enough to destroy the Scorpion with a single hit.

  "Heinrich, reverse, reverse! Get us out of these ruts and go forward slowly. You should be able to climb over the remaining wreckage using the tracks."

  "Ja, ja," he shouted. Talley felt the whiplash as he jerked the vehicle into reverse and slammed it backward, up and out of the deepening ruts he was creating. He didn't wait to come to a stop, slammed the gears into forward with a crunching noise of tortured metal, and the Scorpion started forward once more. Another shot cracked out from the anti-tank gun, hammering into the road only two meters to the side of them.

  "Boss, you want me to do something about that gun?" Vince called up to him. "There's the auxiliary 7.62mm machine gun. That should scare them off."

  "Not now, Vince. We have trouble enough. We don't want to escalate it by starting a shooting match. Let's hope this baby has the guts to climb out of here."

  Buchmann then hit the wreckage. This time the Scorpion was traveling slower, and instead of burying its nose into the twisted metal, the tracks scraped and bit onto the torn metal and started to climb. Up, up, even further, the nose went up and the rear went down until they were almost perpendicular. Talley opened his mouth to shout to Buchmann to stop before they overturned, and then slowly, very slowly, he felt the tracks begin to bite again, and the APC started to tip forward and climb over the shattered semi-trailer. The Scorpion went up and over, and they were almost there when the anti-tank gun scored its first hit. The shell hit the thin rear armor and crashed through the cabin. Every man inside waited for oblivion, but instead, the shell smashed through the side armor and exited the vehicle. It whistled across the road and impacted on the wall of an apartment block opposite, skidded to the ground, and hustled across the street. It buried itself in the center of a tangle of rubble and weeds that had once been a house. By a miracle, they'd been hit with a dud, or perhaps the gunner in his excitement had loaded a training round. It was a reprieve, probably the only one they’d get that day. Then they were over the blockage, facing an open street.

  "Get us out of here, Heinrich," he shouted. "They'll be after us, so try and lose them in the back streets."

  Even as he spoke, he realized how ridiculous it sounded; several tons of tracked APC trying to disappear in the center of the city, but they had to try. Buchmann accelerated away and hurtled through the streets, ripping up the tarmac roadway as he slowed the tracks to take bends and corners at the last moment. Talley opened the hatch and looked behind, surprisingly there was no sign of a pursuit. The parlous state of the cit
y’s back streets helped them. They were so damaged, littered with missing flagstones and potholes, that the damage caused by the passage of the Scorpion wasn't obvious. Buchmann managed to navigate through to the eastern outskirts of the city, and they made it back to the derelict factory. The men started to shout with joy at it came into view, but Talley was still worried.

  That escape was too easy, as if whoever's charged with chasing an armored car, using only a cop car and armed with light weapons, decided to play it safe and not pursue us with too much enthusiasm. There is another possibility. They were called off, but why?

  Buchmann charged straight into the dark interior of the factory and stopped the Scorpion out of sight of the road.

  "Jesus Christ, that was one hairy rescue!" Guy exclaimed, climbing out. "We didn't rate our chances of getting out of there too highly. Thanks."

  Talley nodded. "Anytime."

  Rovere ran out and shook hands with Guy. Anika walked out and examined the holes in the hull of the armored car.

  "It looks as if you've been in a fight."

  "Yeah, it was a tight one, but we were lucky. Did you have any luck with Majidi?"

  She nodded. "Some, we’re still working on him. He's a tough one, but I feel we're starting to wear him down. Miles is in there with him now. He was…"

  She stopped abruptly. The scream coming from deep inside the building was blood chilling; a strangled cry of agony and terror. Talley ran forward, followed by Anika, Guy, and Domenico. He pushed through into what had once been a maintenance workshop, littered with the remains of rusting machinery still bolted to the floor. Miles Preston was there, standing over Majidi who was stripped naked and strapped over the skeleton of a drilling machine. His back bent backward at an unnatural angle, and the CIA man was holding a long, thin drill bit that he was forcing into the man's urethra. Majidi was groaning in agony, sweat pouring off him, and his eyes weeping with fear and pain.

  "Miles, what the hell are you doing to him?"