Operator Down

by Brad Taylor

Ian said, “Look, I don’t have the forces to secure a hospital. All I can do is ensure the word gets out. My advice is simply to hunker down and let this pass.”

  She pointed at the Marine to her left and said, “What is that?”

  “That man is dedicated to the US embassy.”

  “So you get protected while my friends die? Why the hell am I paying taxes?”

  Ian said, “Ma’am, those Marines have a mission. There’s only so much we can plan for. If—”

  Another man entered their circle, cutting his speech short. He was dressed in civilian clothes but draped in military kit, and Jennifer knew he was who she’d been looking for. Take away the body armor and weapons and he dressed just like Pike. A shirt with a thousand pockets, and pants made to carry magazines of ammo. The clincher was his beard, a lumberjack thing that Pike would have made fun of. He might as well have put on a nameplate that read OPERATOR, DAMN IT.

  The man said, “Ian, you need us to do anything? Can I tell the boys to stand down, or what?”

  Looking aggravated, Ian said, “Yes. Just keep them in the break room. Nothing has happened to require an armed response.”

  Shoshana took one look at the man, then surreptitiously bumped Jennifer like she was trying to get her to introduce them for a date. Jennifer glared at her, letting her know she understood, and said, “Who are you?”

  The man glanced at Jennifer as an aside, not worthy of his consideration, then did a double take when he took in who was asking. He became polite, saying, “My name’s Clint. Clint Carnegie. Was that your friend who was just evac’d?”

  Jennifer said, “Yes, it was. And she’s not the last. We need some help. Americans are dying.”

  Clint looked at the RSO, asking, “What’s she talking about?”

  “Nothing that we can confirm. She just arrived.”

  To Clint, Jennifer said, “We need help! They’re in danger!”

  He said, “Danger how?” His head flicked between Jennifer and Ian, and she knew she’d just earned a seat at the table.

  Ian said, “No danger that we can see. The danger is driving around. If everyone stays put, they’ll be fine.”

  “Doesn’t look like she’s making it up.” He turned to Jennifer and said, “What’s going on?”

  Jennifer felt the first tendrils of shame, knowing she was lying. She said, “I don’t know. All I know is that our hospital is in the line of fire of whatever’s happening out there. We need some protection.”

  Ian said, “Wait, wait, your friend got shot on the way here, not at the hospital. You can’t say that. You don’t know.”

  Clint looked at Ian and said, “That girl was shot? In a gunfight?”

  “Yes, yes, but not in a threatening sense.”

  “Not in a threatening sense? What the fuck does that mean? Was she shot or not? I thought she was in a car wreck or something.”

  Ian drew up and said, “She was, but just on the street on the way here. I’ve given the Warden call. We can’t save everyone.”

  Jennifer said, “But you can save my friends at the hospital! You can do that!”

  Three men dressed like Clint appeared, draped in kit and bristling with weapons. One said, “What’s going on, boss?”

  He said, “I don’t know.”

  Ian said, “You cannot leave here without my authorization. You’re working here under my command.”

  Jennifer pulled the pin on her verbal grenade, hoping it was enough. She dropped it at their feet. “This is just like Benghazi. You guys are going to sit here protecting yourself while my friends die.”

  The words echoed in the courtyard, the men of the SF team looking at their commander. She felt Shoshana pinch her, meaning that little devil had read the reaction of the team, and Jennifer had won.

  Ian said, “Wait, wait, this isn’t Libya, and you guys aren’t going anywhere.”

  Clint said, “It isn’t Libya yet, and I don’t fucking work for you. I work for SOCOM.”

  Jennifer hid a grin. Shoshana bumped her with her hip again.

  Ian said, “Nobody leaves here. Nobody goes out into the street. You could make this so much worse if an American is killed. Let it play out. This isn’t Benghazi.”

  Jennifer knew he was absolutely correct. But also that his order would cause their plan to fail. She said, “Screw you guys. I’ll do it myself. I’ll be back with whoever I can save.”

  She turned to the gate, and Ian said, “You’re not going anywhere. You said it yourself: Being on the street is dangerous. I can’t let you go.”

  Jennifer gave Clint her most plaintive stare, and he said, “Fuck this. We’re going.”

  Ian said, “You will not go!”

  Clint said, “That’s the last thing that shithead in Benghazi said. I’m not going to sit here while Americans are slaughtered.”

  He turned to leave, and the RSO stood in his way. “You do this and I’ll fucking fry your ass.”

  Clint pushed him out of the way, shouting, “Timmons, load up the team!”

  Embarrassed for the RSO, Jennifer caught Clint’s sleeve and said, “Our vehicle’s outside. I’ll lead you to the hospital.”

  Clint nodded, and Jennifer glanced at Shoshana. Shoshana raised her eyebrows and whispered, “What are we going to do when there’s no threat at the hospital?”

  Jennifer followed the team, all shifting weapons and positioning kit like they were about to assault the Islamic State in Mosul.

  She said, “I don’t know. Sexual favors?”

  The comment actually made Shoshana chuckle. “I don’t think Aaron would agree with that.”

  They loaded their SUV, waiting on the team vehicles to appear through the gate. Jennifer said, “Neither would Pike, but it would serve him right for making up this stupid plan.”

  79

  I said, “So you’re rolling now?”

  “Yeah, we’re probably ten minutes out, but I don’t know what I’m going to say to the team leader when we get there and they tell him, one, that they’re perfectly safe, and two, that they have no idea who we are.”

  “We just left there. It’ll be okay. It is full of foreigners, with a lot of Americans, and they’re all scared shitless. You can hear the gunfire from the front gate, and they know something’s going down. I talked to the head nurse and she begged for help, petrified that Lesotho is going to turn into Rwanda and they’re all going to get their arms chopped off. I told her help was on the way.”

  “So she’s expecting us?”

  “Yeah. She’ll play ball. I told her I was headed to the embassy to get someone to help, so when you show up, just play stupid. In the meantime, I told her to call all of her American friends and have them consolidate at the hospital. It’s about to become the collection point for US citizens. That’ll force the embassy to leave the team in place. Kurt’s working a NEO option, so with any luck we’ll have more American soldiers wandering around than Lesotho citizens. It’ll keep anybody who’s thinking about a countercoup from appearing anytime soon.”

  “Sounds good to me. What do you want me to do once I’ve dropped these guys off?”

  “Go back to Thomas and wait for our call. We’ll meet up at the airport.”

  We’d left Thomas and his entourage at the abandoned hooch, telling him we’d come for him when necessary. I didn’t like leaving him alone, fearing he’d get cold feet, but I wasn’t going to leave a gunfighter behind just to babysit.

  “Got it. Will do.”

  “Koko, one thing: Stay off the main arteries. We just came through them, and Johan was a little premature on the consolidation phase. There is a running gun battle going on at the prime minister’s residence. Apparently, that fight has drawn the police force. They have no orders from higher, because the coup decapitated the leadership of the police, but someone at the residence got a call out to them. It’s
turning into a pitched battle. You finish with the hospital, and you take the back roads, you hear?”

  “I thought Johan said the prime minister was dead?”

  “Yeah, but apparently that news hasn’t received wide dissemination. Johan’s guys are pinned down. He’s trying to extract them, because at the end of the day the damn firefight is over nothing, but it hasn’t happened yet. Just stay clear of the main roads.”

  Jennifer said, “Okay, okay. We’ll do that. We’ll be fine. What about you?”

  “We’re headed to the police headquarters right now, and people are starting to loot and pillage like a Rodney King riot. Johan’s got the rest of the teams breaking down and headed to the airport, as planned. The Lesotho Special Forces guys will stay to secure the targets, I guess waiting on General Mosebo to show up.”

  “So where does that leave us?”

  “I’ll let you know in twenty minutes. We’re either going to be heroes or zeros.”

  Kurt had gone batshit over the prohibitions for covert action in Title 50 of the US Code, but now I was really doing it. The title read, “An activity or activities of the United States Government to influence political, economic, or military conditions abroad, where it is intended that the role of the United States Government will not be apparent or acknowledged.”

  Change out “United States Government” for “Taskforce” and that was exactly what I was doing. I was attempting to alter the political conditions abroad right under the noses of my masters, hoping my actions wouldn’t be apparent. If I succeeded, I’d be a hero and nobody would even realize it had happened. If I failed, the entire mission would fail, because there was no way I would capture Colonel Armstrong if this blew up in my face. But I honestly felt Thomas was worth it. Aaron had been right about him. Thomas had seen how the other half lived and had realized that Lesotho had been living in a world of poverty it didn’t deserve.

  Unfailingly friendly, willing to give the very clothes off their backs, the Basotho people had been scraping by hand to mouth for more than a century. In the past it had been just the way of things, as all tribes in Africa were no better off, but it had remained the same even after the exploitation of Lesotho’s water and the discovery of diamonds, the government content to sell its people’s birthright to corporate interests. Thomas could put a stop to that. But only if we were successful.

  What made it worse was that I was doing the mission in the shadow of my own team. They thought Kurt was on board with our plan, but I was hiding my actions even from them. It was a lot of weight to bear on my shoulders, and I really wanted to bounce my insanity against Knuckles or Jennifer—the two sounding boards who routinely kept me on an even keel—but I couldn’t. To do so would put them in jeopardy. If this thing went to complete shit, at least they’d be able to claim innocence.

  Brett heard gunfire ahead and slowed down. He said, “The headquarters is just around this corner. I thought you said it was secure.”

  Johan looked up and said, “It is. They’re doing some cleanup.”

  We all knew what that meant. Cleanup was code for vendetta.

  I said, “I thought this was supposed to be surgical. None of the bullshit from a real coup. That’s what you told us.”

  He grimaced and said, “It is. Andy has the police headquarters. He’s . . . a little loose.”

  “And he’s the guy you need to convince?”

  Johan had already ordered the evacuation of his men on the other targets. The original plan was that they’d leave the objectives in control of the ranking Lesotho Special Forces officer, who’d hold down the fort until General Mosebo and the new prime minister, Lenatha, consolidated control. In the meantime, the mercenary force would flee the country, leaving behind the wonderful new government.

  Johan’s deviation to the plan was to show up at the police headquarters, order the evacuation of the team there, then free whatever police were still alive, taking them to the airfield for a little surprise when the aircraft with the new prime minister arrived.

  Johan said, “I can handle Andy. It won’t be an issue. He trusts me. I’ll get him to leave, then call you in.”

  Brett said, “You sure about that?”

  Johan said, “Yeah, I can hold up my end of the bargain. As long as this guy doesn’t piss his pants.”

  Going in with Johan was a man named Khosi, one of Thomas’s inner circle. Johan was supposed to be colocated with the Special Forces regimental commander and wasn’t expected to show up at the police headquarters at all. Him showing up would be a surprise, so we needed to give him every edge he could get. Johan was convinced that appearing alone would raise all sorts of red flags, and he wanted someone to play the part of the Special Forces staff.

  Since the guy would have no role other than eye candy, I’d originally tasked Brett, but Johan had axed that idea, saying he didn’t speak the language, which could prove crucial if any of the locals threw a question his way. We’d batted the ideas back and forth, and a man from Thomas’s circle had stood up. He wasn’t Special Forces, but he’d served in the Lesotho military and had volunteered to help. His courage was pretty impressive, given he was going into the lion’s den.

  All of the Lesotho Special Forces men had assaulted in civilian clothes to prevent anyone from fingering a specific unit when it was over—giving the coup a veneer of a popular uprising—so it was a simple matter of changing Khosi out of his prison rags and into something more appropriate. The charade was complete with a banged-up AK Aaron had taken off the base.

  Khosi shifted the AK in his hand and said, “I won’t lose my nerve.”

  Johan said, “You know how to fire that weapon, right?”

  Khosi nodded but said, “I thought that wouldn’t be necessary.”

  “It won’t.”

  Brett passed across his earpiece and Taskforce phone, saying, “Don’t lose that shit. I’m signed for it.”

  Johan smiled and opened the door to the SUV. He said, “I’ll call when it’s clear. You guys come in loaded, because we need to get the drop on whoever is left behind. Worst case, if the comms fail for whatever reason, if you don’t hear from me and you see two white guys driving off, come on in.”

  I nodded, then said what was on my team’s mind. “Good luck, Johan. Don’t fuck us here.”

  If he wanted to turn the tables on us, we were giving him the perfect opportunity.

  He said, “You still don’t trust me, do you?”

  Aaron said, “No, I don’t.”

  80

  Johan left the SUV, went to the end of the street, and took a knee, peering around the corner. He saw four men with AK-47s in the parking lot of the police headquarters, pacing back and forth and looking for trouble. It was enough to prevent him from attempting to walk right in.

  The headquarters was a squat one-story building surrounded by chain link and razor wire, with a single vehicle entrance and two pedestrian gates. The vehicle entrance was blocked with the hulk of a destroyed sedan, the interior on fire and billowing smoke. Scattered about were the carcasses of dead policemen, their blood congealing in the morning heat.

  Khosi took one look at the carnage and the armed men and said, “Maybe this isn’t a good idea.”

  Johan said, “Yeah, you’re probably right, but we don’t have a choice now.”

  Johan got on the radio and was relieved to hear Chris, the American Special Forces man, on the other end.

  “Hey, this is Johan. I need to come in and coordinate.”

  “What’s up? Something going wrong?”

  “No, no. It’s just easier to do it face-to-face. The TV station is only a couple of blocks from here, and I’ve got everyone else moving out to the airfield. I just want to finalize with Andy before we bring in the aircraft.”

  “Okay, where are you?”

  “Right out front. Can you turn off the gorillas that are pacing t
he parking lot?”

  Chris laughed and said, “Stand by.”

  Johan saw Chris enter the gravel lot, say a few words, then walk to the pedestrian gate, pushing a body out of the way to get it to open. Johan showed himself, and Chris waved him in.

  Johan and Khosi sprinted to the gate, leaping over the broken remnants of the police force to get there. They entered the building, and Johan saw four more bodies, only this time lined up neatly in a row on the floor of the lobby of the headquarters. Each had a bullet hole to the head. Johan said, “What the fuck is that?”

  Chris looked embarrassed. He said, “Mosebo’s boys got a little out of control. They said it was payback for something.”

  “Where the hell is Andy?”

  He heard, “Right behind you, mate. What are you doing here?”

  Johan pointed and said, “What happened?”

  Andy said, “Lily Boy, sometimes you have to let the savages blow off some steam to keep them in line.”

  Johan snarled, “You bloodthirsty fuck. You’re in charge here. Not them.”

  Andy leaned against a wall and said, “What’s done is done. Now, why are you here?”

  “It’s time to evacuate. Almost all objectives are secure, and I’ve got the teams headed to the airport. The only target still hostile is the prime minister’s residence.”

  “That’s settled. The prime minister’s dead, and the team evacuated. Didn’t you hear them on the net?”

  Johan showed true surprise. He said, “No, when did that happen? I spoke to them an hour ago and they were still fighting.”

  “An hour ago. What have you been doing since then? It sure as shit wasn’t acting as the ground-force commander.”

  “I was at the television station, in accordance with the plan. When did they leave?”

  Andy ignored the question, saying, “Yeah, speaking of that, why is the fucking station transmitting?”

  “What?”

  Andy pointed at a television in the corner and said, “They’re broadcasting.”