Jungle Kill (Black Ops)

by Jim Eldridge

  ‘Making sure no one throws any grenades into the building,’ murmured Benny.

  The grounds were patrolled by guards, all dressed raggedly and as casually as the other crew of bandits had been. But they were all heavily armed, bandoliers of ammunition hanging from their shoulders, assault rifles dangling from their hands.

  Nelson and Tug scanned the building and the armed men through their binoculars.

  ‘How many can you make out?’ asked Nelson.

  ‘Ten,’ muttered Tug. ‘And that’s only from this side. My guess is there’ll be at least another ten out of sight on the other side.’

  ‘That’s what I’m thinking,’ agreed Nelson. ‘So, twenty outside. How many inside? What d’you think, Mitch?’

  Mitch shrugged. ‘Hard to tell,’ he said. ‘Ten, twenty. It depends if they’ve got any of their men out on patrol.’

  They studied the men outside the hotel. Most of them seemed very relaxed, joking and laughing with one another, but a few stalked around, guns levelled. They carried a mixture of weapons. Some had AK-47s, one or two had Steyr AUGs and a couple were carrying SKS semi-automatic rifles. One thing was sure: all the weapons had deadly firepower, even in amateur hands.

  ‘Considering they’re supposed to know we’re here, they don’t seem very bothered,’ commented Two Moons.

  ‘They don’t know we’ve got this far yet,’ whispered Tug.

  ‘And this isn’t an army,’ added Mitch. ‘This is just a bunch of gung-ho trigger-happy bandits. My guess is they think they’re safe here. Look at the building. There’s no sign of any damage to it from weapons. No burn marks. No shell damage.’

  ‘There are bullet holes in the walls,’ pointed out Gaz.

  ‘Target practice when they’re feeling bored,’ suggested Nelson.

  ‘This place has never been attacked,’ agreed Mitch. ‘Why should it be? Locals wouldn’t attack it because they’re too scared of this Ngola. Just take a look at Oba.’

  Oba was crouched low, his eyes darting from the derelict hotel to the armed men.

  Nelson turned to Mitch. ‘Ask him if he knows the layout inside this place.’

  Mitch nodded and asked Oba if he or anyone he knew had ever been inside the building. Oba’s answer brought a smile to Mitch’s face.

  ‘We’re in luck,’ he told the others. ‘Oba worked here for a while years ago when he was a kid, when the place was a working hotel. He was a cleaner.’

  Taking a sheet of paper and a pencil, Mitch persuaded Oba to draw a rough plan of the hotel to show where the various rooms were: the bedrooms, the kitchen, the dining room, the toilets. All the time he was drawing the sketch plan, Oba kept throwing nervous glances towards the building and the armed bandits.

  ‘He’s terrified,’ said Two Moons.

  ‘I don’t blame him,’ said Gaz. ‘We know what these people can do.’

  Mitch tried to calm Oba down, assuring him that the questions would only take a little longer, but it soon became obvious that Oba’s fear of Justis Ngola and his gang was overwhelming. He looked more and more towards the building and the armed men patrolling outside. Mitch was finding it harder to keep his attention.

  ‘We’d better let him go,’ Mitch said to Nelson. ‘We don’t want him suddenly freaking out and doing something that draws attention to us. He’s been brave enough to bring us here, and he’s given us a plan of the inside of the place. I think he’s done enough.’

  ‘Agreed,’ said Nelson, nodding.

  He smiled at Oba and held out his hand to the man. Oba didn’t take it – his attention was now focused entirely on the wrecked hotel. In a quiet voice, Mitch thanked Oba and told him he was free to go. Oba gratefully slipped back into the jungle and had soon disappeared from view.

  Mitch handed the sketch plan of the hotel to Nelson, who studied it.

  ‘Good work,’ Nelson said. ‘Some of this may have changed, of course.’

  ‘True,’ said Mitch, ‘but even if they’re using the rooms differently my guess is the walls will still be in place.’ He tapped the sketch map. ‘There’s a basement. I bet that’s where they’ll be holding Mwanga.’

  ‘Makes sense.’ Tug nodded in agreement. ‘More secure.’

  Nelson folded the sheet of paper up and tucked it into his pocket. ‘Now to scout the place out,’ he said. ‘See where the weak points are. We need to confirm that Mwanga is in the basement. We need to see if we can work out how many men are in this place, and where they are. Make sure we know the location of all the entrances and exits. Any windows that look like they can be opened up. Possible traps. Everything we can.

  ‘Mitch and Tug, you’re with me. Gaz and Two Moons, you’re with Benny. Get as much intel as you can about the place. Meet back here in thirty minutes.’

  Mitch and Tug followed Nelson to the east. Two Moons, Gaz and Benny headed west, all of them crouching low and keeping to the cover of the jungle.

  A motley collection of vehicles was scattered outside the front of the building: six off-road cars, a battered ambulance and two lorries, including one with the words ‘Food Charity’ stencilled on the side.

  ‘Hijacked vehicles,’ muttered Tug.

  He produced a small digital camera and began taking photos of the building every ten metres or so to get shots from different angles. Memory could play tricks; a photo was hard evidence.

  Doing the recce was slow work. Fast movements could catch the eye of anybody watching and it was crucial not to rustle branches and disturb things, both plants and animals. Scare a bird and it would give away your position. So the men moved forward on their hands and knees, bellies sliding over the uneven ground, stopping for a minute at each vantage point before moving on, aware all the time of the armed men patrolling just a short distance away.

  Nelson, Tug and Mitch crawled along until they came to a dust track that cut through the jungle to the hotel. The lack of weeds and the many tyre tracks showed the road was still in constant use.

  So far they had scouted two sides of the hotel. The third side faced away from them, and to get to that they’d have to cross the road. Mitch gestured at the jungle on the other side of the road.

  Nelson shook his head. ‘Too risky. We don’t want to get spotted this early. The road’s a dead end, so the other guys should be able to check out that side from their direction.’ He checked his watch. ‘We’ll head back and wait for them.’

  The three men retraced their steps, using the same ‘crawl and stop’ routine as before. They got back to the rendezvous point first. Benny, Two Moons and Gaz joined them five minutes afterwards. They moved deeper into the jungle to avoid detection and swapped observations.

  ‘Fifteen men outside at different places,’ summed up Nelson. ‘Ten at the front, five at the back, but they keep moving around, exchanging positions.’

  ‘The good thing is there’s lots of cover because of all the overgrown vegetation,’ said Tug.

  ‘And it goes right up to the walls of the building,’ added Benny. ‘Plus there are the old outbuildings for the tennis courts, and storage sheds. All offer good cover.’

  ‘The question is: how many men are we dealing with?’ asked Tug. ‘How many are inside the building?’

  ‘The villagers said they reckoned about thirty men are here,’ said Mitch. ‘That makes sense, if you think about it. The satellite showed twenty men with Mwanga. Add another ten who stay and keep guard on the place when the raiding party is away and that gives us our thirty. So, we saw fifteen outside, and although some men may be out on patrol I think we should assume at least fifteen inside.’

  ‘OK, let’s look at ways into the building,’ said Nelson. ‘We saw the main entrance and two smaller doors round the side. The doors to the main entrance looked open, but there are at least two armed guards just inside them. The two smaller doors were shut, but whether they’re locked, and how thick the doors are, we don’t know. What did you see, Benny?’

  Benny shook his head. ‘Two small doors at the back. Both
shut, could be locked. No windows easily accessible. The downstairs ones are all very tightly secured with sheets of corrugated iron. Wood’s been used to board up the windows on the upper floor.’

  ‘It looks like the building’s power comes from a generator,’ said Gaz. ‘There’s an outbuilding with an oil tank next to it on the far side.’

  Nelson nodded thoughtfully, taking all this in.

  ‘We really need more intel on what’s going on inside,’ he said. ‘Where Mwanga is. Where Justis Ngola is inside the building. Where the other fifteen men are. We need to get the intel and set up a proper plan of attack, and then we go in as soon as it gets dark. They’ve got a numbers advantage, but we’ve got night vision. If we take out the generator that provides electricity just before we go in, it’ll be pitch black inside there. That makes it almost a level playing field.’

  ‘I’m thinking the longer we wait the more chance there is we’ll find Mwanga dead,’ put in Tug.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ disagreed Mitch. ‘Mwanga’s their pay cheque. OK, one side wants him dead, but it’s looking like someone equally rich wants him alive. Justis Ngola will want to keep Mwanga alive until the money arrives.’

  ‘Makes sense to me,’ said Nelson. ‘So, the plan is we split up again and do a full recce. See what intel we can get. Then, tonight, we take out the generator and go in. Right now, three teams of two spread out to watch the place. Me with Tug, Benny with Two Moons, Gaz with Mitch. Stay in radio contact, but keep it to a minimum. Let’s not alert the opposition. OK?’

  11

  The first thing Mitch and Gaz did when they reached their observation point was make a hide for themselves. They chose a spot just inside the jungle, but with a clear view of the hotel through the trees and bushes.

  They found a dip in the jungle floor and dug and scraped away at it until they had created a shallow trench, large enough for the two of them to lie down. Then they covered it with branches to make a roof, and overlaid that with big leaves and brush. They knew that the other two teams would be doing the same at their vantage points, covering the bandits’ HQ from three positions, which would give them an overall view of the whole place.

  As Mitch and Gaz settled down under their hide, Mitch reflected that during his time in Special Forces he’d spent more time carrying out observation than he had in actual combat. Gathering intelligence was what kept him alive. You had to know where the enemy was, and how many you were up against. What weapons did they have? If they were in a building, was the building booby-trapped? Which were the fastest ways in and out of it?

  If the mission was to rescue hostages, you had to know where the hostages were being kept. Were they together or separate? How many guards were with them? Were they inexperienced and trigger-happy, or more cautious?

  ‘What’s the longest observation you’ve done, Gaz?’ asked Mitch.

  Gaz thought about it. ‘Three weeks,’ he said. ‘Sitting in a hole in the desert watching a border and waiting for some terrorists to come over.’

  ‘Did they come?’

  Gaz nodded. ‘Problem was they came over the day after we were pulled out.’

  ‘So your position had been betrayed?’

  Again, Gaz nodded. ‘That’s the way it looked to me afterwards. It’s often struck me that it’s a crazy situation: the enemy tries to kill you, and the people on your side betray you. You and me and the others have got to be mad to be doing this.’

  ‘Of course we are,’ agreed Mitch. ‘That’s why we like doing it.’

  Gaz laughed. ‘True,’ he agreed. Then suddenly something at the hotel caught his eye. He lifted his binoculars and looked hard at the building.

  ‘What have you seen?’ asked Mitch.

  ‘One of the downstairs windows,’ said Gaz. ‘The corner of the sheet of iron has come loose. I didn’t notice it before, but then I saw the shadow. It’s bigger in that one corner than at the other corners.’

  Mitch scanned the window through his own binoculars.

  ‘I think you’re right,’ he said.

  ‘If I am, then an observations gizmo would serve us well. A camera would be good, but even a microphone should be able to pick things up.’

  Mitch studied the side of the building. ‘Getting there to put it in place could be a problem,’ he said. ‘There are ten armed men between us and the hotel building, remember?’

  ‘There’s enough cover,’ said Gaz. ‘Bushes, vehicles, outbuildings. I’ve done this with less cover and more guards around. Like you said, these guys aren’t professionals. They’re sloppy, which helps us.’

  ‘I’ve nearly been caught out by sloppy guards before,’ said Mitch. ‘I was hiding in a ditch once, keeping observation on a building, when this guy came out for a pee and actually pissed on me. If he’d looked more closely at what he was doing, I’d have been caught for sure.’

  Gaz grinned. ‘I’ll watch out for anyone taking a leak,’ he said. He triggered his headset intercom, giving the call sign, and they heard Nelson’s voice. Using as few words as possible, Gaz outlined the proposal for him to get to the window and plant a listening and viewing device at the exposed corner of the downstairs window.

  There was a brief muttered discussion between Nelson and Tug, and then Nelson’s voice said: ‘We’re thinking the same on this side. We reckon we can get a mic in place. So go. But if it looks sticky, abort. We don’t blow this.’

  Gaz clicked off his intercom and then pulled a roll of cloth out of his pack, which he opened to reveal an array of tiny transmitters and cameras.

  ‘Were you a private eye before you came into this?’ asked Mitch, impressed.

  Gaz shook his head. ‘No, I was a burglar. These things saved me from getting caught. Well, not these exact things, but earlier versions.’

  ‘How long were you a burglar for?’ asked Mitch, surprised and intrigued.

  ‘From the time I was ten until I was sixteen. I worked with my Uncle George. He showed me the ropes,’ explained Gaz.

  ‘So what made you join the army?’

  ‘Uncle George robbed some big-time gangster in Gateshead who took offence and had him killed. I had to disappear before he worked out I was in on it, so I joined the army.’ He shrugged. ‘Burglary taught me a few useful skills, but it’s not a part of my past I’m proud of, and it’s not something I’d ever go back to. I hated doing it. But hey, you live and learn.’

  Gaz had selected a small piece of apparatus and tucked it into his top pocket. Then he handed something to Mitch. It looked like a mobile phone, complete with a small screen.

  ‘This the receiver?’ asked Mitch.

  Gaz nodded. ‘I’ve set the frequencies so it should start picking up as soon as I’ve got it in place.’

  Mitch lay down near the edge of the clearing and trained his rifle on the armed men hanging around outside the front of the hotel. He put the small mobile-phone-like receiver on the ground next to him so he could see the tiny screen.

  ‘Let’s keep radio silence,’ Gaz said. ‘Just in case they’ve got sharp hearing.’

  Mitch nodded in agreement. ‘If any shooting starts, I’ll come and get you,’ he promised.

  Gaz shook his head. ‘No need,’ he said. ‘Just give me covering fire if it comes to that. I’ll look after myself.’

  With that, Gaz edged forward, crawling to the point where the jungle became the overgrown garden of the hotel.

  12

  Mitch watched as Gaz slid out towards the hotel.

  On this side he could see six armed men keeping guard, but only one of them really seemed to be alert. Three of them were playing with dice, while two others sat on the fallen trunks of trees, their rifles held casually by their sides. The sixth stood up and paced around, jerking his rifle this way and that, aiming it into the jungle.

  Mitch shifted his binoculars to follow Gaz’s progress. As Gaz had said, there was lots of cover. But in a few places there were just open areas of grass. If Gaz was spotted moving across these open areas, the
trigger-happy bandits would open fire and the operation would be blown. The firing would bring the rest of the bandits out of the hotel.

  As Mitch weighed up the situation, he found himself fingering the trigger of his assault rifle, ready to swing into action. If anything went wrong, he was determined to do everything he could to make sure Gaz wasn’t killed.

  He kept switching his attention backwards and forwards between the armed bandits and Gaz.

  Mitch prided himself on being able to move covertly, but as he watched Gaz, he had to admit that the Geordie was a real expert. Gaz seemed to slide from bush to bush, tree to tree, keeping flat, using no rapid movements, but at the same time progressing so swiftly that there was no time for anyone to get a fix on him. It was the nearest Mitch had ever come to seeing a human snake on the move.

  Gaz reached the building without an alarm being raised and slid up to the window where the corrugated iron sheeting had come away at one corner. Slowly, Gaz rose up from the ground, his back against the wall, his eyes on the armed guards.

  The guards were still in the same positions as before: one reasonably alert, with his assault rifle at the ready, three playing dice, two lounging around and chatting.

  Gaz turned and began to prise the iron sheet apart, but as he did so Mitch saw one of the men suddenly stand up and raise his gun.

  Gaz must have seen him too, because he dropped out of sight behind a shrub.

  Had the man heard something? Seen a movement out of the corner of his eye?

  Mitch moved the barrel of his rifle so that it was now aimed at the man who’d got up. His finger was poised on the trigger. To shoot now would blow the mission, but so would letting Gaz be captured.

  The man who’d got up said something to the others, and then headed for the main entrance of the hotel. There was no urgency in his movements. Maybe he just wanted to get something to eat or drink.

  Mitch’s attention switched back to the window. There was a pause as Gaz waited for the man to get inside the hotel entrance. Then he rose up slowly and quietly again. Mitch saw him push the transmitter in between the corrugated iron and the window, and then he dropped down out of sight.