Tears of God (The Blackwell Files Book 7)

by Steven F Freeman

  “Watch your left side,” said Mallory. “There’s a ravine coming up in a couple of hundred yards.”

  Alton bounced the SUV over a series of ruts. The jarring motion felt as if it would crush a vertebrae or two if it didn’t soon let up. He squinted into black shadows, looking for a smoother path. The dim light cast by a thin slice of visible moon helped conceal their approach but also rendered night driving nearly impossible.

  “I thought moonlight would be enough,” he said, “but I can’t see a thing. I need the night-vision goggles.”

  “I’ll get them for you,” said Gilbert, reaching from his position in the back seat into the cargo compartment. He passed the equipment to Mallory, who activated it and handed it to her husband.

  “Better?” she asked.

  “Yes.” He scanned the path ahead. “I figured this area would be more or less flat, like Gazib. Now I can see just how dangerous this terrain really is.” He drove at a snail’s pace for the next fifty minutes, sweeping his vehicle in a great northwesterly arc like the hands of a clock.

  “The foothills we want are just to the right…about a quarter-mile ahead,” said Mallory. “Keep on your current path.” After another minute, she spoke again. “Okay, stop.”

  Alton switched off the Cherokee, and the trio exited the vehicle. As expected, the dark slope of the foothills shielded them from Pasha Tech.

  “Let’s recon the site now, before the others arrive,” said Alton.

  Gilbert furrowed his eyebrows and glanced around in a nervous fashion. “Shouldn’t we wait for them?”

  “I doubt Pasha Tech heard us, but if they did, they’ll be scrambling by now. We should look to make sure that isn’t happening. Otherwise, Silva could drive right into a Pasha Tech search party.”

  “I see. That makes sense.” Gilbert still looked worried.

  “Wait here for Silva,” said Alton. “Don’t use the radio unless it’s an emergency.”

  Alton and Mallory scrambled up the small hill. The incline wasn’t too steep, but their feet slid in the crumbling soil time and again. Panting, the couple neared the top of the slope and low-crawled the last few feet to peer over the rise.

  The Pasha Tech site lay below. With the exception of a sole entry point protected by a guard shack, a ten-foot high fence topped with razor wire lined the entire perimeter. The closest section of this fence lay about half a mile from the covert observers.

  Inside the compound, a three-story building occupied each of the corners. A larger edifice filled the center of the site, its mass rising above the other buildings like the neighborhood bully. Blazing rooftop floodlights at each corner of the center building lit up a network of sterile, grey sidewalks connecting all five structures.

  Alton leaned over to Mallory. “That middle one must be the lab, like Vega thought.”

  “It sure looks like something’s going on there,” she replied.

  Gleaming metal pipes ran from the two southernmost buildings into the sides of the center building. More pipes rose from the lab’s roof, forming a compact array of steel tubes. A continuous plume of steam escaped from smokestacks rising from opposite corners. A bank of industrial-strength air conditioning units lined the exterior wall of the lab. Even from the hillside, Alton could discern the motors’ steady roar.

  “Those AC units must cool the refrigerated section we saw on the blueprints,” he said. “They’re more than loud enough to cover the noise of our SUVs.”

  Mallory nodded. “It doesn’t look like anyone heard us, does it?”

  “No.” He glanced at his watch. “Let’s get back down to meet the others.”

  They turned to pick their way back down the hill. After a few steps, Alton’s earpiece sprang to life with a crackle.

  Gilbert’s voice trembled as he spoke. “Someone’s coming!”

  CHAPTER 23

  “Relax,” said Alton, increasing his pace down the hill. “Now tell me…what do you see?”

  “Outline of a car. And I hear engine noise…coming right this way!” said Gilbert.

  Alton checked his watch. The rest of his team was due to arrive any time now. “Could it be Silva?”

  “Oh…well, wait… I suppose it could be. I heard a car coming and thought…”

  “You might be right to be worried,” said Alton, “but I didn’t see any indications we’ve been spotted. Just in case, take a defensive position—”

  “You’re right,” cut in Gilbert. “It’s Silva. She’s here. Sorry for the false alarm.”

  “No worries,” said Alton. “We’ll be there in a minute.”

  Moments later, Alton and Mallory joined the rest of the team between the two SUVs and greeted the latecomers.

  “Mallory and I reconned the site to make sure we hadn’t been spotted,” said Alton.

  “And…?” asked David.

  “Looks like we’re good. I didn’t see any kind of unusual-looking activity.” He turned to face everyone. “Let’s go back to the top of this hill together. We’ll want everyone’s input on next steps.”

  They trudged up the incline, zig-zagging up the slope to secure better footing on the loose soil. At the top, they all lay flat and peered down onto the industrial site. Alton positioned himself at the end of the row of operatives so everyone could hear him.

  “What’s our plan?” asked Silva in a manner that sounded as much challenge as question. Was she testing Alton’s capabilities to lead an NSA team?

  “That’s what we’re here to develop,” replied Alton, “now that we can see our objective.” He studied the site for a moment. “See that building directly across from us…the one with white double-doors facing us? That’s the administrative building, according to Mastana’s translation of the schematics. That’s our target—the one we’ll need to enter.”

  “Look,” said Mastana, pointing to the northern edge of the site. “Are those guards?”

  They studied a pair of figures sauntering around the interior perimeter of the fence. They both carried some type of weapon in belt-mounted holsters but seemed more interested in their conversation than in scanning the grounds for security threats.

  Mallory activated the clock app on her cellphone and pressed a sequence of buttons. “I’ve started a timer. Let’s see how long it takes for those two to come back around.”

  “Good,” said Alton. “In the meantime, let’s discuss our line of approach. If we try to go right down this hill towards the site, we’re more likely to be spotted on the slope. We’ll go back down our side and come around the southern base of the hill. Then we’ll head straight for the fence, as close to the white double doors as possible. I’ll take the point. Mastana and Gilbert, stay with Mallory in the middle. David and Silva will bring up the rear.

  “Mastana’s going in there?” asked David. “I thought she’d wait here with one of us.”

  “I thought about that,” said Alton, “but I’m not sure she’s any safer with the SUVs than she is with us. Think about it…if no one at Pasha Tech spots our recon team, she’s safe either way. If we’re discovered inside, the first thing Pasha Tech will do is look for our vehicles. And what if we fight our way out but can’t get back here?”

  David nodded. “Yeah, I’d rather have her with us. Honey, you okay with that?”

  Mastana nodded, her eyes pensive yet determined.

  “One last reason for bringing Mastana, too,” said Alton. “She’s mission critical. She can direct us to the right documents once we’re inside.”

  “I have a suggestion regarding our line of approach,” said Silva.

  “Yes?” said Alton.

  She pointed toward their objective. “See that section of the fence right between those two lampposts? It’s the darkest section, and it’s still pretty close to the double-doors. We should be able to cut through there without anyone spotting us.”

  “Good point,” said Alton. “Let’s do that. Remember: silence is key. If one Pasha Tech person sounds the alarm, this mission’s a wash. Theref
ore, once we’re inside the fence, unholster your Tasers and be ready to use them.”

  “Why not the SIG Sauers?” asked Silva. “They have suppressors. They wouldn’t be much louder than stun guns.”

  Alton thought of the many friends and civilians he’d seen die in this country. “We don’t know who’s inside. This site may be an Al-Qaeda stronghold, or it may be a bunch of civilians. It doesn’t seem to me that stunning an opponent would be any less effective for accomplishing our mission than killing him. As long as we get the files we need, I’d rather not see anyone die unless we know for a fact they’re an enemy combatant.”

  “Look below,” said Mallory, “There are two more guards.”

  “Are those the same ones we saw before?” asked Gilbert.

  “No,” said Mallory. “That guard down there now is a lot taller than either of the ones from earlier.”

  Alton ran a hand through his hair. “There are two pairs of guards, each walking in opposite directions. This is going to be a little tricky. David, start a clock on the new guards. We’ll have to time our approach to an interval when neither pair will be swinging back around to this side of the fence.”

  David nodded and used his phone to kick off a stopwatch.

  “Once we’re inside the administrative building,” said Alton, “we need to look for the center room, the one with reinforced walls.”

  “The one you pointed out would be hard to find?” asked David.

  “Yes. I downloaded a navigator—“nav”—app and uploaded the map of the building’s hallways. The app will tell us where to turn. It works like a car’s GPS, only for the inside of a building.”

  “Can the nav app give alternate routes if one way is blocked?” asked Mallory.

  “Yep. And it’ll give us directions for getting back out once we’ve finished in the records room.” Alton looked to Mallory. “How long since we saw your pair of guards?”

  She examined her phone. “Seven minutes.”

  “We’ll need to wait long enough to determine how long both pairs of guards take to make a full lap,” said Alton. “Once we’ve done that, we should be ready to move…tonight.”

  CHAPTER 24

  After reconnoitering the site for nearly two hours, Alton and his teammates had a good fix on the timing of the guard patrols.

  “It takes them about forty-five or fifty minutes to circle the entire perimeter. Good thing they’re not concerned about walking faster, or we’d be cutting it thin to make it inside without being spotted. Based on their speeds and current locations, we’ll have a good window of opportunity in about three and a half hours. They’ll be crossing on the opposite side about then. I’ll stay up here and ensure the guards stay on this pattern. The rest of you can go back down to the vehicles. Hydrate…and get some rest if you can.”

  Gilbert snorted. “Maybe you all can, but my adrenaline is in overdrive. I couldn’t sleep if my life depended on it.”

  “Give it a few dozen missions,” said Silva with a smirk. “You’ll loosen right up.”

  At a quarter past eleven, Alton descended the foothill. Body armor, web gear, and weapons lay scattered around the site. David and Gilbert sat in Alton’s SUV, chatting, while Silva sprawled across the back seat of her vehicle in a deep slumber. Mallory murmured instructions and words of encouragement to Mastana, who wore a nervous expression. No…Mastana bore a look of excitement, not anxiety. Perhaps working as an NSA agent one day really did represent a good career choice for the exceptional teen.

  Alton nudged Silva and motioned to the others. “Suit up. It’s almost time.”

  The crew dressed in their gear, pulling up zippers and snapping helmet chinstraps. During this activity, Alton handed one pair of bolt cutters to Silva and the other to David. He slipped the small container of hydrofluoric acid, some det cord, and two shaped charges into a rucksack and shouldered it onto his back. Knowing this mission would require several miles of walking, he popped a few ibuprofen tablets for his leg’s inevitable discomfort.

  Alton wandered over to Gilbert. “You ready for this?”

  The toxicologist nodded rapidly, like a preening duck. “Yeah. But my mouth feels like sandpaper.” His trembling fingers fumbled over the large green buckle of his web gear.

  Alton chuckled. “Take another swig of water. When we move out, stick behind me. You’ll be all right. Remember, you’re the one wearing the tactical gear, not those guys in Pasha Tech.”

  Mallory sidled over to Alton and wiped her thumb across his cheek. “Your camo paint was coming off,” she said with a faint smile.

  Alton reached over and squeezed her hand.

  The team members wrapped up their preparations and gathered into a knot. Alton stood before them. “I doubt we’ll be spotted, but if we are, we’ll regroup here and drive back the way we came—only faster.”

  Silva chuckled.

  “For the duration of this mission,” continued Alton, “we’re on a noise, radio, and weapons blackout. While in transit, stay on my ass and stay tight. It wouldn’t be hard to get lost in this darkness.” He checked his watch. “Let’s go.”

  The team moved in silence around the south side of the foothill. Alton led the procession, limping yet setting the right pace for traveling over uneven terrain on a dark night.

  Once again, Alton found himself outfitted in tactical gear in this desolate land. He had to fight his mind’s inclination to slip back to the time of his Army deployment. The four-year interval fell away, and he expected long-dead squad members to appear at any moment and to offer greetings and a friendly salute.

  He felt a touch on his hand. Mallory looked the question at him. Are you all right?

  Alton nodded in reply. Time to get his head back in the game.

  After twenty-five minutes of slinking through the desert, the crew had nearly rounded the southern base of the foothill. The Pasha Tech site, now seen from ground level, rolled into view. Alton led his teammates around the hill and hugged its eastern edge, as far away from the compound’s streetlamps as possible.

  Another fifteen minutes found the team next to the darkest spot on the chain-link fence. Alton pointed to Silva and David and motioned to the fence. The former soldiers pulled the bolt cutters from their rucksacks and set to work on the links. Starting at ground level, they snipped a vertical path up through strands of galvanized steel. They reached a height of three feet, then cut horizontally towards each other. Seconds later, a rectangular section of fence fell into the compound.

  Alton crawled through the hole and motioned for his team members to follow. Once David brought up the rear, Alton positioned the section of fence back in place. Without looking closely, a guard would have had a difficult time spotting the damage, especially in the dark.

  Alton led the team past the administrative building’s white double doors, which fell in plain view of three other buildings. He directed the team to the building’s northern side, where only a passing guard on perimeter patrol would be able to see them. After finding the small side door the blueprints had indicated, Alton tried the handle. Locked. He pulled the tiny pouch of locksmith tools he had brought from home out of his pants pocket and set to work on the locking mechanism.

  The tumbler snapped open, releasing the door. But was an alarm set? There was only one way to find out.

  Alton held an eye half shut as he inched the door forward. It opened to the soft sound of a desert breeze stirring the dust. He created his own breeze as he exhaled a long-held breath.

  He led the team into the gloomy space and closed the door. Down a distant hallway, a fluorescent ceiling light at half-power cast a feeble rectangle of illumination onto the floor, but most of the long hallway in which they found themselves was cast in utter darkness.

  Alton pulled his phone from a vest pocket. Turning it on, he reduced its brightness level to the lowest setting. He activated the navigating app into which he had entered the building’s blueprint. Typing rapidly, he requested a route to the central storage ro
om, and a map sprang to life. A chunky arrow pulsed across the screen, directing them to proceed down the long hallway.

  Steeling himself, Alton turned and began to penetrate the building’s shadowy interior.

  CHAPTER 25

  A strange combination of smells assaulted Alton’s nose—industrial lubricants and cleaning agents, perhaps. Ignoring the odors, he led the NSA team down the hallway. In the deserted corridors, their light footsteps seemed impossibly noisy.

  At the end of the first hallway, Alton’s “nav” app directed him to turn left into a second, shorter passage, followed by another left turn a few paces later. Alton continued to wind through a labyrinth of dimly lit hallways and foyers. Every dozen yards or so, the team would pass a squiggle of Pashto script on the wall. David turned towards them each time, presumably picking up the script on his body camera for Mastana to interpret later. His friend’s Army Intelligence background once again proved to be useful.

  Alton’s eyes darted between the pulsing arrow on his cellphone screen and the series of dark passages unfolding before him. Occasionally, he would pass by large steel doors labeled with Pashto script. Mindful of his intended destination, he continued past these rooms without stopping.

  Guided by the app, Alton took a right turn and found himself in an alcove measuring a mere ten feet in depth. Had he reached a dead end?

  The nav app blinked an insistent arrow to the right. But that direction led only to a small, wooden door—a janitor’s closet, from all appearances. Alton reentered the location of the central storage room, but the directions appeared again, unchanged.

  Nobody spoke, but the team’s questioning eyes fell upon Alton. Now what?

  Lacking any other ideas, Alton tested the door and found it locked. He pulled the locksmith tools from his pocket and leaned over to jimmy open the entrance. To his surprise, the door sported not a standard knob but rather a heavy-duty mortise lock with three steel deadbolts. Perhaps this passage led in the correct direction after all.