by Brad Taylor
Johan said, “That must have just started. I’ll take care of it when I get back. Look, it’s time to go. We still need to secure the airport for reception of the bird.”
“Where’s the regimental commander, Colonel Goodluck?”
“He’s at the station.”
Andy unslung his weapon and said, “At the station, huh? Who’s this guy?”
Johan felt the first tendrils of fear. “He’s Goodluck’s adjutant. His name is Khosi. Now, start packing up your shit. It’s time to go. I talked to Colonel Armstrong, and he’s preparing to land, but he can’t until we secure the airport. Everything’s tracking.”
Andy said, “You know, Lily Boy, Colonel Armstrong never trusted you. He respects your skill but not your moral compass.”
Johan casually brought his weapon up, and Andy said, “Stop. Put the rifle down.”
Johan did, slowly, saying, “What the fuck has gotten into you? We need to go.”
Andy said, “It’s funny you say you spoke to Colonel Armstrong, because I just got off the net with him, and he didn’t say a thing about talking with you.”
And Johan realized that Colonel Armstrong had been watching him all along. His plan to turn the coup on its head had been defeated before he’d even boarded the aircraft.
He decided to throw everything on the table, hoping to convince Andy to join his side. He said, “Andy, Colonel Armstrong is giving nuclear triggers to Tyler Malloy, and Tyler is going to sell them to terrorists. We can prevent that. We can let the coup go forward, but we can stop that.”
Andy said, “I don’t give a shit about nuclear triggers. I care about getting paid, which means I need to prevent whatever you’ve set in motion.”
He flicked his head, and two of the Special Forces men descended on Khosi, ripping the AK-47 out of his hands and driving him to his knees. Andy said, “Since I’m sure it would take an awful long time to get you to talk, and, as you say, we don’t have any to waste, I’ll start with your friend here.”
Johan said, “Andy, we don’t have to fight. We need to work together.”
“We’re not fighting. You misunderstand your position. Didn’t Colonel Armstrong tell you when you talked to him? I’m now the ground-force commander. Chris, watch him.”
Chris raised his weapon, his expression one of bewilderment. Johan realized the turn of events was as new to him as it was to Johan.
Khosi began to struggle, but it did little good. The last thing Johan saw was the terror on his face as they dragged him away.
81
We waited for about twenty minutes, and I heard nothing from the Taskforce radio. I called in: “Johan, Johan, this is Pike. Give me a SITREP.”
I got silence. I turned to Brett and said, “Go to the corner. Get eyes on the headquarters and give me some intel.”
Dawn had finally broken, and the sun was beginning its slow rise into the sky. Up and down the street we could see groups of people roaming, moving about like packs of wild animals, the stores along the street belching looters out of their broken windows.
Brett exited, keeping his Glock low and out of sight. He peered around the brick wall at the corner, then pulled back into cover. Over the net he said, “Headquarters looks like a war zone. Four guys out front with AKs, and about a half dozen bodies near the entrance.”
I said, “Roger that. Any sign of Johan?”
Brett stuck his head around the corner and said, “I don’t see him . . . stand by . . . there’s a vehicle coming out.”
He whipped back around and leaned up against the brick, looking at me through the windshield. He said, “They’re winching a wrecked sedan out of the way. Two SUVs coming out. The lead has a Caucasian and three locals. The second SUV is nothing but locals. Both vehicles armed.”
Five minutes later, I saw the caravan appear at Brett’s corner, and we ducked down, letting it pass. I sat back up, staring hard as the vehicles disappeared from view. I said, “Did anyone catch who was in that front vehicle?”
Knuckles said, “I didn’t recognize the white guy.”
“No, I meant in the back. It looked like Khosi in the back, in the middle.”
Brett returned to our vehicle, saying, “We going in now?”
“I don’t know. He said two Caucasians. That was only one, which means there’s another mercenary still on-site.”
I called, “Johan, Johan, this is Pike. What’s going on?”
We heard two clicks of the microphone, usually meaning whoever was on the other end was acknowledging they’d received the call but couldn’t talk.
Aaron said what was on everyone’s mind. “You think he’s fucking us?”
I opened the door and said, “Yeah, I do. And that bastard is going to wish he hadn’t.”
We slipped up to the corner, and I saw the four guys Brett was talking about. I said, “Okay, Brett, you cross and conduct a close target reconnaissance. Focus on the southern pedestrian gate, report back, and get ready to join the fight. Veep, Knuckles, same plan as the prison. Remain here and neutralize those guys when I call. Veep, you still have your breaching charge?”
“Yeah. One left.”
“Get it.” I looked at Aaron and said, “You and I are going down the alley in the back, see if we can breach somewhere without the heavy firepower.” Veep returned and handed me the small charge, and I said, “Objective is to clear that target and capture both Johan and the final mercenary. Local nationals are designated hostile threats. We’ll leave after we get atmospherics from Brett. Questions?”
Brett said, “I’m getting the CTR because of my lethal skills?”
With a straight face I said, “Yes. That’s why.”
He tucked his Glock into his pants, dropped his shirt over it, and turned the corner, saying, “Lying sack of shit.”
Aaron chuckled, saying, “One of these days he’s going to take affront to your taskings.”
“Yeah, well, the next time we’re hunting mercenaries in Norway it’ll be me pretending to be a local.”
Brett reached the end of the block and said, “I can see bodies inside, lying execution style. The men outside took an interest in me, but not much of one. No sign of Johan from my vantage point, but I saw two other locals inside. Alley is clear.”
Which brought our target deck up to six. I said, “Continue into the alley. We’ll meet you there.”
To Veep and Knuckles I said, “Drop those targets, then use the primary entrance to breach.”
Knuckles nodded, saying, “I’m getting a little sick of the sniper work.”
I said, “Do it quickly and there might be some fighting left inside,” then patted Aaron on the leg to go.
We went down our building until we hit an alley that ran perpendicular to the police headquarters. Overgrown, with shrubs and weeds fighting a battle with the asphalt, it was full of trash, making our stalk a game of avoid-the-cans.
We reached the intersection of the alley that paralleled the southern end of the headquarters, and I saw the chain link extended another fifty feet before stopping abruptly and joining the brick of the building. Brett was waiting for us, hiding in the shadows of a cluster of trash cans.
He said, “I could only find one breach point on this side. A door about thirty meters down, but I can’t tell where it goes. The rest is just brick all the way down.”
Shit.
I really didn’t like being forced into a single choice of breach, especially since it was an unknown one. Worst case, we’d find we entered into a storage area or some other dead end. It was one of the reasons we usually breached from three or four different directions at the same time.
“No other intel on where it leads?”
“No. I tried, but there aren’t any windows in it or near it. It’s just a steel door. There is a camera above it, so it probably has access to the rest of the building. No reason
to put a camera on a breach point unless that breach point is a risk. Besides the door, there are a couple of windows between here and it, but they’re barred. Both just offices with nobody inside.”
“Can we surreptitiously enter the door, check it out?”
“It’s got a triple lock. We can do it, but it’s going to take some time.”
“Well, the windows aren’t an option, and we don’t have time. Looks like it’s an explosive breach on the door. Let’s hope we’re not leaving all the fighting to Knuckles and Veep when we pile into a paint locker.”
We advanced down the alley until we came to the end of the chain link. I could see the door ahead, a camera above it. Aaron said, “You worried about the surveillance system?”
“No. I doubt whoever was tasked to watch it is still alive.” I tossed Brett my breaching charge and said, “It’s showtime.”
He scampered forward and emplaced it in between the dead bolt and the doorknob, a position that would shred all three locks. I called the overwatch team: “Knuckles, this is Pike. At breach. You ready?”
“Roger.”
“Go on the sound of the boom.”
I checked with Aaron, then nodded at Brett. He pulled the fuse igniter, then raced back to us, getting behind me in the stack. Ten seconds later, the locks were obliterated in a cloud of smoke, and we raced into the building. The first room turned out to be for storage, empty of men, but it spilled into a hallway. On the net, Knuckles called, “Targets down, targets down. Moving to primary breach.”
We exited into the hallway and a man sprang out of a room ahead of me, holding an AK. He didn’t even glance our way, instead running away from us. He reached the end of the hallway, still running flat out, weapon raised at a threat, and then he flipped in the air, landing on his back like he’d been clotheslined from an invisible I beam across the hallway, his head split open.
Knuckles.
I raced to the door he’d exited, pulling up short. I felt a hand on my shoulder and kicked the door in, going right while the man behind me went left. I saw Johan on his knees, his hands flex-tied behind his back, a Lesotho Special Forces man above him holding an AK. I put a double-tap into the soldier’s chest, hearing firing behind me, and Johan tossed his head repeatedly, trying to point with it and screaming, “Behind me! Behind me!”
He was indicating an open door, and I raced to it just as a Sig Sauer MCX barrel appeared, followed by a large Caucasian man. His eyes sprang wide, and he tried to rotate his weapon toward me. I grabbed the barrel, slammed it against the doorjamb, then punched him in the face with the end of my suppressor, a quick bayonet jab that left a circle on his forehead. He lost his weapon, staggered back windmilling his arms, then fell heavily on his ass. I pointed my rifle at his head and said, “Don’t fucking move.”
Behind me, I hollered, “Status!”
Knuckles appeared at my shoulder, saying, “Building is clear. We’ve got one room full of police all hog-tied. Another room full of police, all dead.”
“Threats?”
“Neutralized.”
“Watch this fuck.”
I returned to the room, finding Brett at the door pulling security and Veep cutting Johan free. I went to him and said, “What the fuck is going on?”
“We’re in a world of shit. Andy is working with Armstrong, and neither one trusted me. Andy has Khosi, and they’re headed to our little safe house for Thomas. They’re going to kill him and his men. We’re about to lose.”
82
Shoshana watched Clint talking to the head nurse and prayed she wouldn’t make things worse. If they could drive away from this, they’d be home free. She had no idea that it wouldn’t be the hospital but Pike who would throw the plan into the gutter.
Clint walked over to their SUV and said, “We can secure this, no problem. It’s away from the city and gated. I’ve talked to my boss at SOCOM, and they’ve gotten wind of the problem. They’re spinning up a Marine FAST team and some Ospreys from the Med. It’ll take some time for them to get here, since we’re on the bottom of the earth, but you girls don’t need to worry anymore.”
Jennifer said, “What’s the embassy telling you?”
“It’s a coup. A real coup. But it’s calming down now. The worst is the looting, at this stage. My orders are to stay here and protect AMCITs. Apparently, someone told them to congregate here.”
He pointed to the front gate, where Shoshana saw couples and families coming through, dragging suitcases and trunks full of whatever they thought they’d need fleeing a country under fire.
Clint said, “I don’t know who’s pulling the strings back home, but this is ridiculous. Typical overreaction. You mentioned Benghazi before, and apparently that’s solidified like puke on a toilet seat. Now I’ll spend my time herding a bunch of cats while the US government wastes billions proving that no crisis is too small to wave the flag.”
He spit on the ground and said, “Christ, tomorrow I’ll have fourteen dignitaries stomping around proclaiming how quickly they reacted to this nonthreat. It’ll be a clusterfuck of epic proportions.”
He realized he’d been a little more than crude and said, “No offense. I mean, I saw your friend, but she’ll be okay.”
Jennifer said, “I’m sorry. We were so scared. I didn’t know what to do.”
Clint glanced at Shoshana in the passenger seat and said, “I know, I know. Running alone here can be scary, but trust me, I’ve seen much worse in Uganda. Not your fault.”
Shoshana leaned forward, about to say something, and Jennifer pinched her hip. Shoshana relaxed, but only because Jennifer was in the seat next to her. She really wanted to teach the man a thing or two about “defenseless” women.
He said, “You might want to stake out a sleeping place while you have the chance, because it’s looking like the good spots will be taken shortly.” He tapped the roof of their SUV and walked away, supremely disgusted that there hadn’t been a fight.
Shoshana said, “That guy is so arrogant he’s going to trip on his own ego.”
Jennifer said, “We’re good. We did what we needed. A bunch of Ospreys landing here disgorging Marines will prevent anyone from raising a weapon after they arrive.”
She patted Shoshana’s knee and said, “I’m just glad we didn’t have to give him any sexual favors for showing up.”
Shoshana laughed, and Jennifer’s cell phone rang. Ending the good times.
Shoshana saw her go from proud to worried. Jennifer said, “Is Khosi alive?”
Then: “What can we do?”
Shoshana began bouncing off the seat, with Jennifer holding a finger in the air, her ear still glued to the phone. Jennifer said, “Pike, I don’t think he’ll execute that.”
Shoshana heard snatches of noise from the phone, and Jennifer looked at her, saying, “I’ve got Shoshana. We’ll do what we can.”
Jennifer ended with, “I won’t. I won’t. Get to the airport.”
She hung up the phone, looked at Shoshana, and said, “Khosi has been captured. Colonel Armstrong was suspicious of Johan from the start. He didn’t trust him. They’re going to kill the bunch of them.”
“And?”
“And we’re a klick away from the safe house. Safe hut. They’re on the way, and Pike needs us to beat them to it.”
Jennifer rolled down the window and shouted at Clint’s retreating back. Shoshana said, “Just us?”
He turned around, and Jennifer said, “Not if we can convince that guy to get in a fight.”
Shoshana smiled, pulled her ZEV Tech Glock, did a press check to make sure a round was seated, and said, “You might want to ask him his favorite position.”
* * *
Thomas peeked out the window one more time, seeing nothing on the road. Not even a local walking, which was strange. It had been close to an hour since they’d watched the so-called force
leave to execute their plan at the police headquarters, and nobody had come back. The man called Pike had promised him they’d return, and when they did, they’d take him to the airport to arrest the man who’d instigated the coup, and, in a fit of insanity, he’d agreed.
They’d infused him with confidence and plied him with shame, but now, an hour later, the gravity of what they were doing was wearing him down.
Nobi sat down next to him and said, “This is a great day. A day to remember.”
He patted Thomas’s knee and said, “All of that suffering, every day, you said it was for a purpose. And now that has come to pass.”
Thomas wiped his brow, feeling sick, and said, “Don’t count on victory until victory is assured.”
“What do you mean? You’ve seen what’s happened. It is our time.”
They heard a vehicle pull up outside, and a man looked out the window and said, “It’s Khosi!”
Nobi’s skeletal face broke into a smile. He said, “No more pain. No more hunger.”
Khosi entered the hut, his face battered and bleeding. Thomas sat upright, saying, “What happened to you?”
A man shoved him forward, then pointed a wicked-looking rifle at Thomas, saying, “I’m sorry about this, but your friend is wrong. There will be more pain.”
* * *
I hung up the phone, and Knuckles said, “You sure you want to do that? Get US forces involved directly in the coup?”
Aggravated, I said, “What the fuck was I supposed to do? Let him die?”
Brett said, “I’m with you, but he’s got a point. Getting a US Army Special Forces team to rescue Thomas is definitely taking sides on this thing. Going to be hard to explain that when we’re done.”
“Well, fuck it. It’ll be that much harder for the US to back away from supporting Thomas after they saved his ass. They’ll come up with some bullshit story, but he’ll survive.”
I turned to our captive, saying, “What sort of vehicles are here? What do you have?”
The man named Chris, now on his knees with his own hands secured behind his back, said, “We’ve got a van and a couple of Toyota 4Runners.”
