Saber Down

by Harrison Kone

  “I’m here to transport you to your assigned location,” Jones said.

  “Lead on,” Natalie replied. The three climbed into the SUV. Jones, having left the vehicle running, shifted gears and sped away.

  Wyatt suppressed uneasy emotions as they slowly rose within him, and he was grateful for the short car ride. He recognized the staging ground immediately; and smiled when he saw the familiar M81 camouflage of fellow Marine Raiders. Two MSOTs mulled about two MV-22B Ospreys. The vertical take-off and landing (VTOL) aircraft resembled a cross between a helicopter and a turboprop airplane. Two short wings extended outward from the fuselage, and two, massive, rotating props fixed to the end of each wing allowed for the aircraft to take off like a helicopter but fly like a plane once in the air. An Osprey allowed the Marine Corps to carry twenty-four Marines and travel five times farther in half the time than a standard military helicopter.

  “This is bigger than I thought,” Wyatt whispered to Shaw. Wyatt received a grin in return before Shaw opened the rear door and stepped outside. Petty Officer Jones shook Natalie’s hand again, waved farewell to Shaw and Wyatt, and returned to the driver’s seat.

  Natalie proceeded confidently forward, and Shaw and Wyatt fell in step behind her. One Raider approached as she neared.

  “Officer Hale, welcome,” Captain Heckman greeted.

  “Captain, thank you for getting here so quickly,” she replied. They shook hands, and her grip impressed him. Applause erupted behind them, and Natalie turned to behold the praise.

  A chorus of hoots celebrated Wyatt who bore a sheepish smile. He didn’t want to smile, but he couldn’t help it. He always had a hard time controlling his facial expressions anyway, but amidst their praise and the numerous pats on the back, Wyatt could only think of his team, of York, Reyes, and the others.

  Natalie turned back to Captain Heckman and said, “I didn’t know I was bringing a celebrity.” Heckman grinned.

  “Yeah, we’re a small community. Word got around of his survival in Yemen, and if Shaw wasn’t already enough of a legend, having helped found MARSOC and all, he is now. I don’t think the boys have recognized him yet.”

  “Dude, that’s Captain Shaw,” a Marine exclaimed.

  “No way, man, Captain Shaw is retiring, he wouldn’t be here,” another Marine countered.

  “It’s him,” a familiar voice echoed. Shaw smirked as he beheld the man.

  “Hey, Barone,” Shaw greeted. The two embraced, and Shaw offered Barone a solid pat on the shoulder. Barone was new to the team, but that action had elevated him up a few notches. “Hogan here?”

  “Right here, Boss,” Hogan replied.

  “Good to see you too, kid,” Shaw said as he moved to embrace him as well. “So, you got stationed at Camp Lejeune?”

  “It’s where the best are,” Hogan replied with a smile. He turned to Wyatt, “what’s up, bro?”

  “Hey, man. Good to see you again,” Wyatt replied. It felt good to reunited with the men with whom he had bonded during such a pivotal mission. The rest of the team, unaware of Barone and Hogan’s involvement in Yemen, wondered at the connection. The specific details surrounding the Aden operation was classified at the highest levels, but the rest of the team, knowing the gist of what had happened, began to put together the missing pieces.

  “You guys ready for round two?” Shaw asked.

  “Rah,” they both said in union. Shaw got the feeling they didn’t know the whole story behind Silva. It was probably better to keep it that way.

  “Captain Shaw, Staff Sergeant Wyatt,” Captain Heckman called. Shaw had not met Captain Heckman before, but he knew a bit about him. Unlike Neeman, Heckman embodied the cowboy nature of a Raider, having transitioned to MARSOC after a stint commanding in Recon.

  Shaw and Wyatt strode over to meet him. They exchanged greetings, shook hands, and briefly acknowledged roles within the op.

  “Captain Lopez and I’ve got full teams here, Shaw,” Heckman began.

  “No need, Heckman,” Shaw started, cutting him off, “we’re here as a CIA attachment, nothing more. I’ll explain more during the brief.” Heckman nodded, a bit relieved. Captain Lopez strode over from a long row of packs and weapons lined up neatly across the hanger floor. Shaw, Wyatt, and Natalie all shook his hand.

  “Let’s get this brief started, Captain,” Natalie urged the two officers.

  “Alright, listen up!” Heckman shouted, gaining the attention of each Marine Raider.

  31

  Inside the hanger, a large monitor displayed a mirror image of Natalie’s laptop, and the group of twenty-eight Marine Raiders sat arrayed around the screen and looked upon the satellite image with stern gazes. Shaw stood to the right of the monitor with Wyatt; Natalie stood to the left.

  “We’re all familiar with what happened in Yemen two months ago. Today, we have the opportunity for some pay back,” Shaw started. The surrounding Marines issued solemn nods in agreement. “Major General Weber will serve as TOC for the op, callsign Sage. Staff Sergeant Wyatt and I will be deploying as a recce team on site for target identification and overwatch. Officer Hale, here, will be serving as our TOC in country, callsign Ozark.” The two separate MSOTs, with notepads open and pens ready, listened intently. “Captain Heckman will lead Bravo Team, and Alpha will be led by Captain Lopez. As usual, each team will be split into two squads led by their element leader.” Shaw turned toward the monitor.

  “At thirteen-thirty we’ll arrive in Suez, Egypt at the target location. It’s one of the country’s largest port cities. Once on the ground, we will secure the target’s location, and both teams will commence their infiltration on Ozark’s command,” Shaw continued. “From there, Alpha One and Bravo One will serve as the primary direct-action force,” Shaw stated, “while Alpha Two and Bravo Two will hold the perimeter and secure our E&E once we nab the target. Natalie?” Shaw turned to regard her and took a step back as she stepped forward.

  “The target is Francisco Silva, a known arms dealer, who is confirmed to have supplied the weapons used in the attack against US personnel in Yemen in August,” Natalie said. The image on the monitor shifted to display a picture of Silva.

  “Silva is the priority mission objective. Secondary objectives are to locate and recover any intelligence on site,” she explained. “We believe Silva, in addition to his two bodyguards, will likely possess a security detail. We’ve got satellites in orbit over Egypt for the next seven hours, and the Egyptian Mukhabarat has offered their cooperation. Our recce team will be meeting one of their officers in country. Our intelligence comes from a reliable source, who indicates Silva’s next destination is indeed Suez. We believe he will be at Port Tawfiq, but we will relay new intel to you as it becomes available.”

  “Thanks, Natalie,” Shaw said once she finished. “For consolidation purposes, your transports, the MV-22B Ospreys, will be armed with Hydra rockets for aerial fire support. We don’t anticipate that level of resistance, but we aren’t taking any chances here. There is no room for failure,” Shaw finished. He met the gazes of the men seated before him. “To recap, once we identify and confirm the target, Sage will authorize a thirty-minute window of opportunity to grab this guy. Sync your watches now.” The Raiders all checked their wristwatches to ensure accuracy and looked up when finished.

  After receiving a nod from Shaw, Captain Heckman rose from his seat and turned to address the group. His silhouette covered the monitor, and he gripped the top of his plate carrier with both hands.

  “Lopez and I have agreed that Bravo One, which I will be leading alongside Gunnery Sergeant Alday, will serve as the HQ element on the field. As a contingency, should Bravo One be compromised, Captain Lopez with Alpha Two will assume operational authority. Rah?”

  “Rah,” the Raiders echoed.

  “Alright then,” Heckman said, capping his hands together, “let’s roll.” The twenty-eight Raiders rose, moved to their gear, and made their way out of the hanger. Heckman scooped up his helmet, offered Sha
w a pat on the shoulder as he passed, and followed his men out of the hanger. Shaw watched him trot away before turning to Natalie.

  “I’m glad to hear your contact came through for us,” he said.

  “Yeah, me too,” Natalie replied. She thought of Ella and the text she had sent inquiring after their next destination under the guise of wanting to meet again. Desiring to grow their budding friendship, Ella appeared to be all too eager to reveal Cairo as her next stop. The Israeli tracking software would confirm the jet’s trajectory once it was airborne. Cross-referencing Vittoria Fortuna’s navigational trajectory with Cairo proved effortless and pointed solely to Port Tawfiq in Suez.

  “Shall we?” Wyatt said as he approached.

  “Lead on,” Natalie replied.

  • • •

  Over Africa

  Mather-Pike watched Ella serve Silva his drink. She quickly turned and came back his way. They had left Dubai not thirty minutes ago bound for Cairo. Silva wanted to personally inspect the next shipment of merchandise coming in for his new client. The leaders of Hamas’ militant wing, the Al-Qassam Brigades, in the Gaza Strip had reached out after hearing about the success in Yemen, and Silva was happy to oblige.

  The private jet’s roar remained faint inside the luxury interior, but Mather-Pike hoped it would be loud enough to drown out his conversation. Ella knowingly smiled at him as she passed, and the large South African rose from his seat and followed her into the stewardess compartment.

  “Rian, what are you doing?” she asked, a bit alarmed.

  “I need to speak with you,” he said. She looked fearfully behind him at Silva. The Spaniard sipped his cocktail and kept his gaze on his laptop.

  “Be quick about it,” she whispered.

  “I can get us out,” he said. The statement completely rocked her back on her heels.

  “What are you talking about?” she asked. Mather-Pike glanced behind him at Silva; he remained fixated on his computer. The South African’s insides turned over as he found the courage to speak.

  “I want to be with you, Ella, and I can get us both out of here.” Ella flushed and looked into his blue eyes.

  “Okay,” she said quickly. Mather-Pike’s face erupted into a smile.

  “Okay, great,” he replied. “Great, okay,” he said again. Ella smiled; he was cute. Their interactions had been a bit awkward since their night together two weeks ago. Neither knew how to proceed, but they both still longed for each other. Soon, Ella hoped with more hope than she had ever before mustered. Rian’s question had breathed new life into her future, just as their passion in Dubai had.

  Mather-Pike turned and matched Affré’s gaze. He nodded and Affré rolled his eyes. The man, as hard as he tried, was not discrete.

  “Something you care to share, Mather-Pike?” Silva asked.

  “Just signaling to Affré that the stewardess will bring him his tea,” he said. At least he is quick on his feet, Affré thought. Silva stared at him for a moment. It was new, unexpected, and that unnerved him.

  “You’re ordering tea for Affré now?” He cut his gaze to Affré who sat across the cabin to his left. The Frenchman didn’t regard him. Silva closed his laptop, narrowed his eyes, rose from his seat, and moved toward Mather-Pike. The South African tensed, ready to smash the man into the floor, but Ella pushed past carrying a cup of hot tea.

  “Here you are, sir,” she said, presenting the saucer to Affré.

  “Thank you,” he replied without looking up. Ella returned past Mather-Pike, and Silva glanced down at the tea. He looked back up at Mather-Pike and smiled before patting the large man on the cheek. Mather-Pike fought against the rising anger in response to the demeaning gesture.

  “I’m glad you two are getting along so well,” Silva said before retaking his seat. The scrutiny and the threat behind his words were not lost on both the Frenchman and the South African.

  • • •

  Kibrit Air Base, Suez, Egypt

  “I’m amazed you pulled this together,” Natalie said as the plane touched down and Wyatt disappeared into the aft hold. Shaw shrugged.

  “General Weber is as invested as we are. He didn’t take much convincing. Besides, it’s you I am amazed with. It must have been hard orchestrating all this without authorization.” The blood drained from her face, and the horror of his discovery descended upon her. Shaw looked at her, wearing a smile. “You’ll have to tell me how you did it sometime,” he said, offering her a wink. The startling sensation that seized her throat released, but her concern didn’t fade.

  “Thank you,” she managed. He placed a hand on her shoulder, drawing her gaze up from the floor. He stared into her eyes.

  “Thank you, Natalie,” he said sincerely. She mustered a smile, which he gladly returned.

  “Be careful out there.”

  Shaw gazed into her eyes longer than he intended before turning away. “Wyatt, let’s go!” Wyatt emerged from the aft hold carrying a compact duffle bag and a backpack. He nodded his farewell to Natalie as he headed for the plane’s exit. Shaw followed, stopped just shy of the exit, and glanced back at her one more time. She raised her hand slightly and offered a wave, and he grinned widely back. Natalie couldn’t ignore the flutter in her heart as their eyes met.

  As Shaw stepped onto the tarmac of the military base, he approached the man with whom Wyatt conversed. Osman Maloof smiled and shook Shaw’s hand as he neared.

  “Welcome to my country,” he greeted in perfect English.

  “We are grateful for your assistance,” Shaw replied. Maloof offered Shaw’s hand an extra shake.

  “We are allies, no? It was no small matter for us to approve your country’s request for military action on our soil, but your general assured us of the mutual, beneficial nature of this operation,” Maloof explained. Shaw nodded his agreement. Maloof served in Egypt’s General Intelligence Service, known in Arabic as the Mukhabarat.

  He was short with a light complexion and dark eyes. Black stubble covered his narrow jawline, and his hair, wild and curly, danced in the desert wind. He wore a light-brown, cotton jacket over a plaid, flannel button-down. Shaw and Wyatt, attempting to appear as civilians, wore similar clothing.

  “How far to Port Tawfiq?” Shaw asked as Maloof directed them toward an SUV parked nearby.

  “It is approximately thirty-five kilometers from here, so maybe forty-five minutes,” he replied.

  The three men loaded into the vehicle, and Maloof pulled away. Shaw felt good about Maloof, and he trusted his gut regarding people. Wyatt, however, felt otherwise. He appeared a bit too welcoming, but the sniper disregarded it. He was probably just nervous being in the field again after all that had transpired in Yemen. Wyatt shifted his gaze out the window as they left the air base and sped south toward Port Tawfiq.

  32

  Cairo, Egypt

  The plane taxied to a stop, and Mather-Pike’s eyes cut to the aft of the jet as Silva disappeared into his private room. The South African quickly rose from his seat and moved to Affré’s side.

  “Did your people with the DGSE come through with setting up the foundation?” he asked quietly. Affré glanced toward Silva’s closed door.

  “They did, for a cut,” he replied. Mather-Pike nodded. He knew they couldn’t pull this off by themselves.

  “What about your people?” Affré asked.

  “They’re ready to do their part,” he replied, “for a cut.”

  “You’re enjoying this too much,” Affré warned. Mather-Pike simply shrugged and glanced at his watch.

  “We’re cutting this pretty close, hey?”

  “You let me worry about the itinerary; just be ready when the time comes.” Mather-Pike grunted and turned toward the arms closet. He strapped on his bulletproof vest before throwing on a loose, button-down shirt. He would have preferred a plate carrier with armor rated for rifle rounds, but the stiff Kevlar should be enough to stop any bullet from a typical weapon the Egyptians possessed.

  He holstered a FN
Five-seven pistol on his hip. The pistol’s light and fast 5.7x28mm rounds would punch straight through Kevlar body armor. The South African also took comfort in the twenty-round magazine capacity. He could easily carry over one hundred rounds. The pistol was nearly triple the cost of a Glock, but for Silva, price had never once been an issue when it came to arming his protection detail.

  A printer churned out a sheet of paper and drew Mather-Pike’s attention. At the same time, Silva reemerged from his room.

  “Affré, are we ready?” Silva asked as he worked his cufflinks through their designated holes.

  “Yes, but I received a form from Kormann regarding your beneficiary information. He’s asked for an update,” the Frenchman answered. Silva held out his hand for the paperwork.

  “The old man’s timing is always terrible,” he complained. He glanced down at the document and exhaled in annoyance. “What is the Wild Planet Foundation? The old fool and his environmental convictions; did he gain a seat on their board or something?” Silva really didn’t care what happened to his money after he died, but Kormann required all accounts to have a primary beneficiary.

  “I can’t say,” Affré replied.

  Since Silva didn’t care either way, he allowed Kormann to appoint a foundation of his choice. Perhaps one day, if Silva found something or someone he cared enough about, he would have the information changed, but at the moment, Kormann’s choice was as good as any, and it wasn’t unusual for Kormann to change the primary beneficiary regularly. It was annoying, but it was the price to pay for the secrecy and unparalleled confidence. That was the reason professional thieves, crime syndicates, arms dealers, and terrorist organizations all came to Kormann. He was discreet, and that type of reputation could not be bought.

  “We should address this matter after our meeting with Mr. Morgan. We don’t want to keep him waiting,” Affré stated after noting Silva’s hesitation.

  “I decide what we should and shouldn’t do,” Silva stated sharply. “Give me a pen.” Satisfied with his persuasion, Affré handed Silva a pen and watched as the Spaniard signed the document. “Send it now.”