Time Skip

by Craig L. Seymour

Most importantly, Lovelle began to learn the skills of a sniper. If he were to have any chance of success, this would likely be it. If he could shoot the terrorist from a distance, he might make his clean getaway. Otherwise, he would probably have to trade his life for Bin Laden’s. He was willing to make that trade if necessary, but, he had no death wish. He would not do it as a suicide bomber. He would struggle to survive any encounter. But, he knew full well how unlikely survival would be in such a close quarters scrap.

  Lovelle started working with Corporal Hans Martin, the sniper with Morris' company. His marksmanship improved dramatically under Martin's tutelage. He also picked up invaluable skills in concealment and stalking. His tutor lamented that they could not work under more varied conditions and terrains, but, for what Lovelle wanted, being forced to concentrate on the city environment was quite advantageous. He couldn't let Martin know that he had a specific goal in mind, so it was perfect that circumstances forced them into a more intensive study of the environment in which he expected to be working. Lovelle learned a great deal about reading the landscape and choosing the best position from which to operate.

  He also made a point of working with a vast array of weapons, honing his skills on as large a variety as he could get his hands on. He did not yet know what he would have to work with when the time came. He also did not know how much he would have to improvise.

  It was during one of these training sessions that Lovelle picked up a kernel of information that would turn into a plan. Martin and Lovelle were on a roof top siting targets and trying not to be seen by Martin's spotter. The pair were peering over a parapet when Martin volunteered, “Running around Doha is starting to become a waste of time. There's no place left to hide. I'm starting to circle back around to the same perches. We need to get the Captain to send us to Africa for a little training time.”

  “That doesn't seem very likely,” Lovelle was skeptical.

  “Actually, it wouldn't be a big deal. You can get across by ferry any time.”

  Lovelle's next extended leave was spent in Eritrea. Although there had been no way they were going to get official sanction to cross over into Africa for training, this turned out to be the perfect point of entry to Africa, and his gateway to Sudan. At the time, Eritrea was a country in turmoil. It lay on the Eastern edge of Africa, just across the Red Sea from the Middle East. It was relatively easy to enter, even for an American. And it shared a long border with Sudan. It was only a matter of a few hundred miles from that border to Khartoum.

  Eritrea was also a place where things like weapons, safe harbor, and transportation could be procured. During his first visit Lovelle started preparing for his later incursion. He secured the primary thing he would need to work out of Eritrea, a house. A healthy bank account back in the U.S. was quite an asset in this phase of the mission. Setting himself up with a base in Asmara, Eritrea made it possible for him to move quickly in and out of Sudan, and allowed him to finalize his own plan.

  He started off dealing with people who were above board. But, as an American running around with a lot of cash, he didn't have to go looking for people in the black market, they found him. They wondered if he was there for contraband cigarettes, or illegal drugs. It wasn't hard to go from that to illegal arms. The man he met was clearly disappointed that Lovelle wasn't there to set up a smuggling deal, but, that didn't stop the man from selling him exactly what he needed.

  He met the small arms dealer during his first visit and placed his order. He took delivery on his second and stashed everything in his Asmara home. Having his weapons in place made it possible for him to focus his training in the final months before his mission. He had chosen weapons that his Special Forces compatriots had shown him how to use. He simply expressed his preference for those weapons and his friends were happy to concentrate their efforts in that direction.

  CHAPTER TEWNTY SIX

  In October 1992 Lovelle was granted leave for two weeks. As far as his fellow soldiers were concerned, he was going home to Detroit, as would anyone in his supposed circumstance. As far as his family, and his fiancée knew, he was going on a mission which would require him to be incommunicado for a while.

  Lovelle even allowed one of his friends to take him to the airport and see him off to Saudi Arabia, where he was to connect with his flight home. Of course, there was no flight to Detroit, or at least not one which Lovelle would be on. Once on his own, he caught a taxi and made his way to a hotel for the night. There was a ferry that crossed to Eritrea, but it only ran sporadically, and he would have to wait a day.

  Lovelle arrived in Eritrea late the next day and picked up his Toyota Corolla right where he had left it. He would have liked to have had a Land Rover, considering the cross country driving he would be doing. But, he did not want to stand out, and the Toyota was a good car for blending in. This he drove to the city of Asmara, where he had purchased a small villa in the Italianesque city. That was the repository of his weapons cache, and would be the jumping off point for the next day’s travel.

  The interior of the villa was completely Spartan. No more than three chairs, a dining table, a chest of drawers, and a bed, occupied the space. Lovelle’ first order of business was to pull a trunk from the bedroom closet and check his weapons. Then he set his alarm for 5 hours, removed the plastic sheeting he had placed over the bed to keep it dust free, and crashed. Despite the fact that he was a bundle of nerves, he slept soundly.

  The next morning he loaded his gear and supplies into the Toyota and drove across country to Teseney. This city lies conveniently on the border of Sudan, and he stopped there for a fill up and a bite to eat. After a quick stop, Lovelle drove from Teseney west-northwest overland, leaving behind the roads, until he crossed the border away from everyone and everything. He then turned north to follow the Mareb river. This led him to Kassala, Sudan, where he could pick up a road for the remainder of the trip. Having left early in the morning, and October featuring the long spring days of the southern hemisphere, he arrived in Khartoum before nightfall.

  Lovelle had not been in Khartoum before, but, he had done every bit of research that he could, going back to his college days. The city is located at the intersection of the Blue Nile and the White Nile, and is bisected by the latter. Lovelle had a map of the city burned into his brain, and knew exactly where he was headed, driving almost with the confidence of a local.

  He checked into the Dongtu International Hotel using the identity of a Canadian tourist named Patrick Page. Having made his way across the border undetected, the hotel personnel seemed to assume his legitimacy and were disinclined to question his identity. As long as he kept his nose down and his movements to a minimum, he hoped that no one would ever feel the need to question him. He could provide little cover for himself if the local authorities were to take notice. Although he had plenty of money, he was not connected in any way that would allow him to secure forged documents. He had to rely on remaining off the radar. He was particularly worried that a run in with the authorities might not only jeopardize his mission, but, also create an ethical dilemma. He did not want to have to harm anyone who might be an otherwise innocent bystander. Although what he was doing was certainly the right thing, he was well aware of the fact that it was also quite illegal.

  Lovelle hauled the suitcases he had picked up in Asmara into his room and began to unpack them. Under the various garments, each case featured a secret compartment. This was nothing that would have helped at an airport or an official border crossing, but, might well have got him through a superficial inspection on the road, or here at the hotel. He peeled back the inner liner to reveal a false panel with a single small hole. He removed his Swiss Army Knife, something he thought he could carry openly without raising suspicion if discovered, and opened the corkscrew. He twisted the screw down into the hole and pulled the panel free. Inside, inserted in tightly fitting foam rubber, were several small pieces of gear. He removed them all and laid them out on the bed. Before him lay three daggers, a small but
powerful night vision monocular, a snub nosed .38 holstered to tuck into the small of his back, and a .22 caliber Sig Sauer, fitted with a silencer, in a shoulder holster. The daggers were each sheathed for his wrist, ankle, and waistband respectively.

  The compartment in the second case revealed a disassembled AK-47. This was not really his weapon of choice, but, as it was the primary weapon of his enemies, it had four redeeming features. It, and it’s ammo, were readily available. It was battle tested and reliable. He could ditch it if need be without worrying too much about raising alarms when it was discovered. And, he had been afforded a good amount of time to familiarize himself with it. After purchasing and stashing the rifle on his previous excursion to Eritrea, he had secured several like weapons in Iraq and began to work with them. Considering the extracurricular training he was already receiving from his Airborne buddies, this did not stand out. “You never know when you’ll find yourself improvising with whatever you find in the field,” he had explained whenever anyone inquired. Although the short barrel and folding stock of this particular model were no help in accuracy, they were essential to concealment. Besides, this was the weapon he would turn to in a firefight. For accuracy, he would depend on the rifle in his third case.

  He fitted himself up with all of his small arms and removed their containers to make room for his largest case. From its interior he withdrew the various pieces of a hunting rifle. It wasn’t the finest sniper weapon, but then, he wasn’t exactly a sniper. It was a Browning BAR Mark II, and it was more accurate than he was. It would do the job from any distance he would be comfortable taking a shot. It was exceptionally accurate, for an auto loading rifle, and the ability to rapidly repeat fire was a feature Lovelle thought might make a real difference in case he missed. No bolt or lever action rifle would offer him a quicker second shot, not only because of the automatic reloading, but, also from the superior recoil control of that particular arm. It could also prove quite useful in a scrape. He might be able to drop a few potential pursuers or at least pin them down while remaining at a somewhat safe distance. He knew that buying himself a little time could be a matter of life and death. The BAR was a great compromise as the combination of a sniper and an assault rifle.

  Lovelle left the BAR in its case for the night and prepared to go out scouting. He slung the AK over his shoulder and put on a loose fitting coat which covered it well enough for moving around in the dark of night. He walked out a service door and set out in his car for the Soba area in the south of Khartoum.

  Lovelle knew from news reports after the November 6 attacks that Bin Laden had been living in the Soba area, right on the Blue Nile. He also knew that Bin Laden chose to conduct most of his business right there, especially Al Qaeda business. Finally he remembered that Bin Laden would have horses on the property. All this, he thought, would help him to narrow down the location enough that with a little patient reconnaissance he would find the terrorist’s home before his two weeks of leave were up. What Lovelle hoped was that he could find Bin Laden inside of a week. This would allow him time to form and execute a plan. He would be much more likely to be able to set up a sniper attack if he was afforded the time not only to position himself, but, to await the best opportunity to strike.

  What Lovelle hadn’t decided upon was what he would do if time ran short. He had little or no compunction about trading his freedom, or even his life, for Bin Laden’s. Lovelle had been around a long time already, so it really didn’t seem that heroic of a decision. But, it might not be a simple question of going AWOL, Absent Without Leave, in exchange for getting to Bin Laden. If Lovelle ran afoul of the military and then failed to take his target out, it might be a matter of throwing away any future chance. If he couldn’t locate Bin Laden in time, it would almost certainly be prudent to come back at a later date and pick up the search. But, if he located the man with too little time remaining, and found no good opportunities before time expired, then he would have to decide whether to force the issue, risking failure, his safety, or both, or to go AWOL, awaiting a better scenario. He would cross that bridge when he came to it, and hoped he would never have to.

  For three days and nights he identified what seemed to be all of the possible locations for Bin Laden’s compound. Gratefully he found that there were relatively few places that fit the description. He spent most of his time looking at empty land, just making sure he wasn't missing anything. Other places were so clearly not private residences that he could eliminate them immediately. By day four he was confident that the compound was among his targets. He just had to decide which place it was.

  Having narrowed his search down, he systematically set about to eliminate them, one by one, until he found his target. He started with the locations which were easiest to observe. Easy to observe meant the ones where he would be least likely to draw attention while he watched and waited to determine if he had the right place. Over the next four days Lovelle watched the comings and goings at one property after another, day and night. As he determined that the occupants were African and not Middle Eastern he moved on. By the end of those four days he had eliminated six of his prospects to his satisfaction.

  On the eighth evening Lovelle had parked behind a building and was scouting around for a good vantage point from which to watch one of the compounds on his list. Concealment around this one was not great, so he had waited for nightfall, when he stood the best chance of remaining undetected. But this also meant that if he were spotted, it would appear especially suspicious. On that night, his luck ran out. He was approached by a pair of armed men. He didn’t know who the men were. They might have been local authorities, Bin Laden’s henchmen, or just random people looking out for trouble in the area. It really didn’t matter. He could not afford to be taken by anyone.

  “Who are you? Why are you waiting around here?” The first man questioned in Omdurman Arabic, a dialect of Arabic that was the common language of the region, so that did little to help Lovelle decide who he was dealing with.

  “I’m on vacation,” Lovelle answered. “I’m a little lost. I am looking for the National Museum.” Lovelle lied, somewhat obviously, as no one would actually believe that he might be looking for the museum in this rundown part of the city. “Could you point me in the right direction?”

  “Are you an American?” the man queried him somewhat belligerently.

  “I’m Canadian”

  “You sound like an American.”

  “We’re neighbors,” Lovelle replied, hoping for the man to understand the geographical reference. He did not.

  “What do you want here, American?”

  “I'm just lost.” Lovelle tried again.

  The men exchanged a few whispers between themselves that Lovelle could not hear before his interrogator insisted that he come along with them.

  “Of course,” Lovelle answered agreeably, “I just need to get my wallet from my car. It has my identification.”

  The man agreed, with obvious reluctance, and began to escort Lovelle to his Toyota.

  Throughout the interchange Lovelle was weighing his options. He could attempt escape, but, no matter who these men reported to, it would put someone he did not want to deal with on alert, and with a good description of him. He could buy time if he eliminated them, but, only so long as he could do it quietly. Lovelle wasn’t sure he could do it at all, let alone discreetly. He could go along, hoping these were legitimate police, but, with his flimsy cover story, that seemed like a bad idea as well. The only real option seemed to be killing them. Everything he was trying to do was on the line at that very moment.

  While they walked, Lovelle pulled the dagger from his left wrist sheath and whirled on the man closest behind him. He shoved the blade into the man’s throat, slicing right and then left in one fluid motion. He wasn’t sure how quickly the man would die, but, he was sure that he would now do it quietly, so long as he could knock the gun from the man’s hand without him taking a shot. Lovelle took care of that with his left hand without eve
n removing the dagger from the man’s throat.

  He left the blade in the man’s neck and used it to keep him from slumping over. This gave him a chance to locate the other man, keeping his victim between them to shield the other one’s view. For a moment the second man couldn’t be sure what was going on. He could see that there was a problem, and raised his rifle in response. But, he couldn’t know that his compatriot was as good as dead, so he wouldn’t fire as long as Lovelle held the man between them. Before the second man had opportunity to take action, Lovelle charged at him with the first man’s limp body still resting on the blade. Warm blood poured out over his arm, gushing as he removed the dagger. The second man looked stunned in the pale light, clearly unsure of what to do. Lovelle hoped the man was poorer at hand to hand combat than he was himself. It seemed he might be lucky, as the man just stood there while Lovelle pressed the body into him, knocking the gun aside. It was another piece of luck that the man did not discharge his weapon at this point. Lovelle was able to swing the dagger around the body and slash the man’s left forearm. Although this was not his trigger arm, the man dropped the rifle entirely, leaving Lovelle time to finish him off without the worry of noise. The man surprised Lovelle however, moving quickly to get himself free of the body and grab at Lovelle’s wrist. Lovelle was a shade quicker though, using his limited Special Forces training, and twisted his arm loose. The man then took the opportunity to run. Yet he didn’t have his wits fully about him, and he did not call out.

  Somehow managing to keep his head, Lovelle did not pursue. Instead, he removed his silenced .22 from its holster, aimed carefully, and shot the man in the back. The man fell to his knees, reaching around to feel at his lower back. Again, he failed to cry out. This was another lucky break, and Lovelle only had to take a few long strides before he could easily put another bullet through the man’s neck, ending any chance of an outcry. Lovelle moved up behind him quickly and used the dagger on his belt to slice the man’s throat and finish the job.