Black Operations- the Spec-Ops Action Pack

by Eric Meyer

  "They're the drivers and the guards," she explained, "I’ve seen this before when General Sadat comes to visit with the others."

  "Sadat?" I asked her.

  "The future President of Egypt," she answered bitterly, "If they can drive enough people out onto the streets to be slaughtered, then they’ll step forward to save the nation."

  I looked at Niall and Manuel. "You know what this means? We don't have any business with these guys, but it seems to me we could do the locals a power of good if we popped them. In any case, someone's going to get caught up in the crossfire. It may as well be them."

  Manuel nodded. "I agree. I'm sick of being kicked around ever since we came here. If these bastards weren't stirring the pot and making so much trouble, none of it would have happened. It's time to kick ass."

  I looked Niall. "What do you think?"

  Even in the faint glow of moonlight, I could see his face was pale, stricken with conscience. He shook his head. "Even though I see the sense in what you're saying, I don't feel happy about taking random lives. Mukhtar, yes, we know what he did in Afghanistan, and what he's capable of doing if they succeed, but the others, no. It would feel like mass murder."

  It was neither the time nor the place to discuss religious history, but as I recalled, the Catholic Church had a long and inglorious history of mass murder. Even as recently as World War II, when Eugenio Pacelli, AKA Pope Pius XII, had appeared indifferent to the Holocaust. Another time, and another place.

  "In that case, you can stay out here and watch our six. I don't want anyone going in there who's not prepared to pull the trigger."

  He was silent for a few moments, and then he looked at me. "May God forgive me, but I can't let you go in alone. We are outnumbered enough as it is, without me hiding out here behind my priestly conscience."

  "You're not a priest, remember? You're on sabbatical."

  He nodded wearily. "Roger that. What's the plan?"

  I'd already worked it out. There were maybe a dozen drivers and guards, and they were certain to be armed. My idea was to send the girls in. Sabrina did live here occasionally with her father, and Isra could pose as her friend. He looked pretty convincing. The Islamic veil can hide a multitude of sins, and often did. Once they had the guards’ attention, we'd sneak in the back way and take the men inside. Mukhtar first. I turned to Sabrina.

  "How many men do you reckon are in there?"

  She counted the limos and thought about it. "Each of the cars would have a driver and guard, so there are likely to be six men inside, including my father. Mullah Mukhtar, General Sadat, Mustafa Khaled, Gamal Al-Ghitani, and two others. I'm not certain who they'll be. Possibly Mullah Bashandi. He's junior to Mukhtar. But the first four, they're the ringleaders."

  "You know what we're here to do?"

  "I know. I've wanted the bastard dead for a long time. He's liable to make any of his wives pregnant, and if they give birth to girls, they may not be able to prevent him doing what he wanted to do to me."

  Wives! I wondered how many he had. He must have been one unhappy sonofabitch.

  "Right. You know what to do?"

  Both of them nodded and Isra replied, "We use our feminine charms to divert them, and when the shooting starts, we hit the floor." He looked down at the ground, "Perhaps I should take something to lie on?"

  "Forget it. Get moving."

  They worked their way around to the end of the drive and started walking toward the house. I led off, treading carefully through the darkness to find a way in from the back. We reached the end of the villa, and a hundred yards away at the end of the landscaped garden, we saw the River Nile.

  The surface was lit up like silver in the moonlight. Close to the opposite bank, I could see the lights of fishing boats, and further away, the faint glow of oil lamps from isolated dwellings or encampments out in the desert. The sound of voices reached us, coming from the front of the house. Sabrina and Isra had reached the guards and were engaging them in conversation. I nodded to the others.

  "Let's go."

  We crept along the rear of the villa and found sliding doors that were open to allow fresh air into the house. I checked my Glock was still tucked firmly in my waistband, cocked the M-16, and stepped inside. We were in a long, covered sun lounge, and halfway along there was another open door. We could hear the murmur of voices from inside. Jackpot!

  There was no need to give orders. We'd done this too many times in the past. We grouped outside the door and then rushed in. Niall to the left, Manuel to the right, and I stood in the center, covering them with the assault rifle. There were five men grouped around a long table, obviously holding a meeting. A couple of them in uniform, one of them a general, so he had to be Sadat. The others were in civilian clothes, but no Mukhtar!

  "Get your hands up," I called to them, "Anyone moves, and he dies."

  They obeyed, some with alacrity; the men in uniform more slowly, and their eyes were calculating. I nodded to them.

  "Both of you, take out the pistols and put them on the table in front of you. Do it slowly, and use your left hand. Keep the other hand in the air."

  Both men started to do as I ordered, first the General and then the other man. I noticed he wore the pips of a colonel. The next task was to locate the target. There was a door at the end of the room. As I looked at it, a man came through, a man wearing the distinctive gray robe and black turban of an Islamic Mullah.

  It all happened in a fraction of a second. He looked across at me, and I could swear I saw the light of recognition in his face. Or maybe he just saw death about to pay him a visit. I swung up the barrel of my weapon, but before I could pull the trigger, the colonel made a grab for the pistol he'd just put down on the table. Manuel hit him with a short burst that tumbled him backward, and the villa echoed to the sound of shots. He was dead before he hit the carpet. I fired a quick burst at Mukhtar, but he moved like lightning and disappeared.

  "Cover them!" I shouted, "I'm going after him."

  I raced through the room and out through the doorway the other side. Our optimum envelope of time had just contracted. The guards outside would already be drawing their guns and racing toward the villa, and if I hadn't finished Mukhtar in the next minute or so, the opportunity would be gone. Even worse, we'd be faced with a shootout against overwhelming odds.

  A spiral staircase led to the upper part of the villa, and I could hear his footsteps pounding along the landing. I took the iron steps two at a time, reached the top, and rolled over onto the floor. It was just as well; he was waiting for me, armed with an AK-47. Doubtless chosen because it was the weapon used by his hero, Osama bin Laden. If I had anything to do with it, he'd go the same way. Okay, the Nile is a freshwater river, but fish food is fish food. I pulled the trigger of my M-16 and sent three shots in his direction. It was dark, and the only target I had was the muzzle flash as he fired. I knew Mukhtar was an old hand, a veteran of a hundred skirmishes in his native Afghanistan, and already he'd moved position.

  I snaked forward, hugging the floor, and another burst of 7.62mm rounds sliced through the air a few inches above my head. This time I was ready, and I fired three shots into the center of where the muzzle flashes had lit up his body. He screamed in agony as at least one of my shots hit the mark. Then he was up and running, or rather limping away. I leapt to my feet and went after him, and found he'd dashed out onto a wide terrace overlooking a place where the bank of the River Nile curved in close to the villa. He heard me coming, turned, and fired another burst. Too slow, I was already rolling out onto the terrace, coming up with the barrel of my M-16 pointed right at the bastard’s guts. And this time I made sure.

  I fired three shots and heard the meaty 'smack' as they slammed into his body. Incredibly, he was still alive and still trying to fight. He started to raise the AK-47, his face a mask of vicious, brutal fury, and the barrel came level with my chest. I saw his lips moving and hesitated as he started to speak.

  I squeezed the trigger again and
again. The rounds tore into him, pushing him further back until he reached the iron railing and tipped over. He hit the ground below with a loud 'thump', and his bloody body rolled down the slope toward the bank of the river. It hit the edge with a loud splash, and I saw it floating away, the gray robe slowly sinking as it filled with water and pulled the corpse down into the depths.

  There was no time for satisfaction. I'd somehow got myself into a time warp where everything had gone silent, and I was isolated from the outside world. Now I could hear the sound of semi-automatic weapons firing repeatedly from the first floor. It was time to get back to the real world, to join the men, and shoot our way out of here. I raced down the spiral staircase and flung myself down behind a heavy table Niall had overturned to use as a barricade. The Army general, Sadat, was flat on the floor, next to the corpse of his colonel. His face was turned toward me, with an eloquent expression that told me he'd kill me in an instant if he got the chance. The other captives were a few yards away.

  "About time, we're up against it here. It's a pity about Mukhtar."

  "Mukhtar? He's feeding the fish."

  Niall looked at me in surprise. "You sure about that? I saw him racing out the back way. I know it was him. He shouted something to the guards outside. You can't mistake that voice."

  "Then..."

  He nodded. "Yeah, you hit the other guy."

  "Fuck!"

  After everything, we still had it all to do.

  "We'll get him, don't worry," Niall said, "We have enough problems here. We'll worry about him later. Manuel is holding them off at the rear. There are about four of them back there, and the rest are trying to shoot their way in through the front."

  "Any casualties?"

  "We hit three or four of them, but we're still outnumbered. There's no sign of Sabrina and Isra, so maybe they had the sense to take cover somewhere safe."

  I ducked as a hail of bullets smacked into the table and some whistled overhead. I slammed in a fresh clip and let fly with couple of bursts from the M-16. Niall was shooting with a fury that suggested he'd left his priestly intentions outside the perimeter fence. We were rewarded with a scream of agony as at least one more of the hostiles went down.

  We turned as a new burst of firing came from the back. We could hear the sharper reports of Manuel's M-16 over the heavier shots from the AKs, but there were too many of them. The crescendo of bullets ripped all around us, and one of the Egyptian hostages cried out. It looked like one of the civilians, as he took a bellyful of lead from his own side. Abruptly, Manuel crashed into the room.

  "There're too many of them, I can't..." Then he spun and shouted a mouthful of curses as a hail of bullets knifed into his body. Someone was firing on full-auto, and he must have taken at least a dozen rounds. He was dead before his body crashed to the ground.

  "Manuel!" Niall shouted.

  He rushed over toward his friend, but I grabbed his coat and pulled him back.

  "It's too late. He's gone. We have to get out of here and find the women."

  He looked at me dully. I knew he hadn't heard me. "He needs..."

  "What? The last fucking rites! Don't be crazy. We need to look to the living. That's you and me, Sabrina and Isra. We have to abandon these hostages and get out of here."

  "Abandon them?"

  "Right. We came for Mukhtar. We're not executioners."

  There was only one chance, and it was pretty slim. I had a conscience stricken priest behind me, and an ill-assorted pair of women somewhere outside. One of those wasn't even the real thing. Out in back, an Arab with a machine gun. And in front, a bunch of hostile camel jockeys, who'd pay anything to see my blood draining into the dust. But a chance is a chance, so I did the only thing possible.

  I got to my feet and charged.

  Chapter Eight

  I was aware of Niall running behind me. The shooting was intense, bullets whistling around us, chipping off bits of plaster and splinters of wood. But we were firing back at them and could see four hostiles in front of us, and I was conscious of the machine gunner in the rear. Niall and I fired burst after burst, and two of the men went down, both dead or as good as from our bullets. Their shooting was wild, which was the idea of a frontal charge. Frighten the wits out of the bastards and spoil their aim. Either it works, or you're dead. This time it worked. The two surviving guards retreated out of sight, and we ran out into the front yard.

  There was no sign of Sabrina or Isra, and we started to run toward the perimeter, on the assumption they'd had the sense to clear out. When we reached the wall, we didn't find them, but we did find Winter Moss.

  "What the fuck! What are you doing here?"

  "I came to save your stupid asses," she snapped back at me, "We need to get as far away as we can. It's..."

  She put her hand on my sleeve, and I knocked it away.

  "We're heading for the Land Rover, just as soon as I can find the girls."

  "No! Not the Land Rover. They're targeting a missile on it."

  "A what?"

  "Please, let me explain later."

  "Now!"

  She glared at me. "The Land Rover, Turner fitted a tracker. Somewhere overhead they have a drone circling, a Predator. It's armed with..."

  "Hellfires," I finished. She nodded and ducked as a hail of machine gun bullets whistled over her head from behind us.

  "Niall, the shooter, he's..."

  "I'm on it."

  He fired several bursts at the muzzle flashes, and the weapon went silent. I looked at Winter. "How long do we have?"

  "Any moment," she replied, "We are out of time."

  Two things happened, almost in the same instant. First, I saw Sabrina and Isra sheltering behind a low wall that bordered the swimming pool. And second, higher up in the sky, there was a burst of light as the Hellfire motor ignited. I started running.

  "The swimming pool! It's our only chance. Get in there."

  Niall and Winter were already racing toward the water, understanding instantly what was needed. Sabrina and Isra had no inkling of what was about to happen, so I reached them, dragged them out, and dived into the pool, pulling them behind me. We went down several feet, and I found the pool ladder to hang onto. They were struggling and fighting to get back to the surface, as they wouldn't have had time to take a breath before we went under, but I held them down. It was the only way. And then the missile hit.

  The explosion was devastating. Although it was several hundred yards away, the entire area was on fire, and I suspected they'd used some kind of a Napalm device rather than a conventional Hellfire missile. Whatever, there was a huge blast, and then the area became a sea of flame. Both my captives were still struggling, still not understanding why I was trying to drown them. They both started to go limp, and I risked a quick look above the surface. The entire area was ablaze, yet around the swimming pool was a pocket of air, and I pulled them to the surface. They were gasping and splattering, and Isra spat out curses.

  "Schaeffer! What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Then he looked around at the fiery ruin of what had a few seconds before been a prime piece of real estate. "What the hell?"

  A few yards away, Winter surfaced, and then Niall. They looked around in astonishment. Niall met my eyes.

  "The bastards tried to kill us."

  "They tried to kill Mukhtar," I corrected him, "Remember, Turner told you to get rid of the Land Rover and drive out in Mukhtar's limo. They just didn't give a damn who was caught up in the explosion."

  Winter grimaced. "And the target got away. It was all for nothing."

  I looked around. We'd never have a better chance than this. Everyone was either dead or in a state of shock and disbelief at the attack.

  "And that's where we're headed. Away." I looked at Winter, "We need somewhere safe where we can hide out."

  She nodded. "There's a CIA safe house in Nag Hammadi. If we can find a car, it's only a short drive away."

  "It'll have to do, but I don't know about a car. I see
m to recall your pals torched our old one."

  She grimaced. "Not my doing. As soon as I found out, I came here to warn you. There are plenty of cars around here. Once we get outside of the blast zone, we’ll be able to hotwire one and clear the area before the cops arrive."

  It reminded me of Manuel. He could have hotwired the space shuttle, but now he was dead.

  "Don't worry. I can handle it."

  Of course she could handle it, treachery, assassination, murder, car theft. You name it; Winter Moss could deal with it. We walked past burned buildings, smoking vehicles, and the occasional corpse. The only movement was the place we just left. Ironically, because we parked the Land Rover a distance away, the blast had not taken out General Sadat and the other conspirators. When I looked back, I saw the General leading them away from the smoking wreckage and along the bank of the River Nile. And Mullah Mukhtar was long gone. As a bombing mission, strictly in terms of accuracy, I'd have graded it about average; par for the course.

  Winter was as good as her word. We came across an undamaged German Volkswagen SUV, and she went to work on the ignition. A couple of minutes, and the engine hummed into life. She looked at me and grinned.

  "I'll drive."

  We climbed into the vehicle. I sat in the passenger seat, and she drove away. We were heading for the town. In the distance, coming toward us, the sky was lit with blue and orange flashing emergency lights. Without doubt, after such an enormous blast, they'd sent every emergency vehicle for miles around. They raced past us, heading toward the villa, and I turned to Winter.

  "A good thing we got out. I guess we all owe you our thanks."

  "You don't owe me anything," she replied, "I didn't know anything about this missile strike at first. But when I overheard Turner talking to Smith, I came straight here."

  "I know about Turner, but is Smith in on it?"