Traffick Stop, an American Assassin's Story (Paladine Political Thriller Series Book 3)

by Kenneth Eade

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  Ayisha had already been reported absent by the time Shawish had received the news that Boulem Halabi had been murdered in his apartment. The suspect was a woman, dressed in black and impossible to identify. It seems the strict dress code also made for good disguises. There was no suspicion that the suspect may have been a Hisbah officer, but, just the same, Shawish thought it odd that Ayisha had not reported for duty and ordered Zurfah to her apartment to fetch her. When Zurfah came back with the news that Ayisha was nowhere to be found, Shawish alerted the police and the military that she was absent without leave and considered a possible murder suspect.

  ***

  Robert’s suggestion to Lyosha to abort the mission fell on deaf ears.

  “It’s too dangerous.”

  “But we have to save girls.”

  “We’re exposed.”

  “Then we go right away, before they have chance to organize. That’s what your government does, right Boab? They announce they are having covert operation and then do it three weeks later? Big surprise, right? But they still do it.”

  “Yeah, I never could see the logic in that. But there’s one thing you’re not considering.”

  “What?”

  “With Ayisha out, we’ve lost our second man.”

  “What you are talking about? You are second man.”

  “Who’s the first man?”

  Lyosha stubbed at his chest with his thumb.

  “Me.”

  “I thought no Russians were to leave the BTRs.”

  “Plans change.”

  Lyosha was right. If they were going to pull this off, plans really had to change. The perfect cover of going in as Hisbah was no longer available. They decided to go in like gangbusters instead. They would concentrate on the two sites that were closest together, and included the tannery and the largest brothel. They spread out printouts of satellite maps on the table and arranged pieces on it to represent the BTRs, like a board game.

  “With only two locations, we won’t need as many BTRs.”

  “Why don’t we go for all four, Boab?”

  “How are we going to do that?”

  “I’ll ask guys for volunteers. Two guys will hit each location. Counting you and me already makes six more. If we can get six volunteers, we can get all girls.”

  Deep inside, Robert preferred taking out all the locations, but he didn’t think the Russians would authorize the use of their men.

  “What about authorization? Won’t that take time?”

  “If guys volunteer, they will give us green light right away. We are already sneaking around here in Syria, Boab.”

  He laughed and slapped Robert on the back.

  “We came here to kill terrorists. I’ve heard there are lot of them in Raqqa.”

  Robert smiled. He couldn’t argue with that logic.

  “I call meeting tonight. If enough volunteers, we modify plan. Agreed?”

  “Agreed.”

  ***

  Lyosha held his briefing for the 30 men who were to man the BTRs. He explained the need for volunteers, and they all volunteered for the rescue mission, so he had to choose the best six. All 30 were spetsnaz soldiers, which were comparable to U.S. Special Forces, a club that Robert used to belong to. Lyosha chose his best six shooters. All eight of them, including Lyosha and Robert, would go in at night, undercover, with civilian Arabic style robes over their body armor and equipment. Each would be wearing a dark keffiyah and cap, designed to blend in with the local population. But under their dishdashas would be an Izmash AK-9 Silenced Assault Rifle, a Heckler & Koch HK MP7 submachine gun pistol, an MP-443 Grach military pistol with noise suppression, and a healthy coating of body armor. In their bags they would each carry a tactical helmet with communications and night vision, smoke bombs, and grenades. Each man would be a weapon of mass destruction in his own right.

  Robert and Lyosha revised their plan to include the other two facilities. Driving the eight men into Raqqa in conventional vehicles was considered, but if there were any checkpoints along the way, the ISIS fighters would spot the Russian faces and it would be “game over.” Not that they couldn’t take out any checkpoint personnel who happened to be in their path, but it would seriously damage the element of surprise, which they were counting on. Lyosha decided they would be dropped in a high-altitude, low opening insertion, so the aircraft would be undetected. Lyosha’s troops had parachuted behind enemy lines many times this way. Once in, they would continue the rest of the journey on foot.

  When they were each in place, each team would have a synchronized ten minutes to neutralize any hostiles, release the women and rendezvous with the BTR crews, who would help them provide cover for the evacuation. Then the BTRs would proceed at top speed across the Euphrates and into the countryside surrounding the city, where they would receive full air support to handle any pursuers.

  Lyosha put the maps up on the board and used a pointer to emphasize each part of the operation. He spoke in Russian to the men which Robert didn’t understand, of course, but he had memorized every detail of the plan, so it was easy to follow along as Lyosha explained it as he pointed on the map. They would commence at 1 a.m. Lyosha excused the men and sat with Robert to go over last minute details, as well as supply him with his equipment.

  “It is good plan.”

  “Yeah, there’s just one thing, and you know it.”

  “What?”

  “All good plans, even the best ones, go to hell in the field.”

  Lyosha smiled. That was something they both knew well.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  Robert and Lyosha would be handling the assault on the largest complex. They had fought together in the past with success, and since one man was really the counterpart of the other, they even thought alike, even though they had lived their lives on different sides. Both of them lived by the code of the warrior. Never surrender as long as you could resist, and leave no one behind, whether living or dead. They shook hands and Robert made his way back to Raqqa the way he always had – by motorcycle. He would be the only one on the team not to be dropped. The other seven suited up and boarded a helicopter to Al-Nayrab Military Airbase in Aleppo.

  While Robert was getting into place, his Russian counterparts were jumping out of an Antonov An-26 aircraft at 8,000 meters, free falling to the earth below, breathing pure oxygen and navigating with a GPS compass. When they hit the ground, Lyosha radioed Robert they were on their way to the rendezvous point.

  Although they had separated into two groups of uneven numbers, Robert recognized Lyosha’s lead group through his field glasses before Lyosha even gave the secret signal.

  “The streets are dangerous.”

  “One can’t be too careful. Glad to see you made it in one piece.”

  “Yes, always better than pieces.”

  Ducked into the core of a bombed building, they reunited with the second group and made their last minute checks. They synchronized their stopwatches and Lyosha waved off his compatriots and set out with Robert to the brothel.

  They took the planned vantage point from across the street and examined the building. They spotted a man on the top of the staircase at the main entrance. He was armed.

  “Ready buddy?”

  “Ready.”

  Robert aimed and shot the man with his silenced AK-9. He dropped like a puppet and slid down the stairs. Robert and Lyosha quickly crossed the street, keeping low to the ground. They moved the body and disarmed it. Then they bounded the stairs and smashed open the door.

  Robert entered first, followed by Lyosha. They met no resistance right away, and proceeded forward, fully expecting to shoot anything that moved. Offices fronted the corridor on both sides. Robert motioned to Lyosha to take the right while he took the left side.

  Silently, they went room to room, until Robert found one occupied. The man had less than a second to move when Robert shot him in the head, and moved on to the next office.

  Two do
wn, six to go.

  At the end, the corridor opened into a large warehouse. Crouching low, Robert and Lyosha entered and took cover behind an old forklift. Peering around the side, they both surveyed the theater before them. There were the pens Robert expected to find, many more than had been in the tannery. There were several men in some of the pens with the girls and seven men outside of them, six of them armed with AK-47s.

  “I count seven hostiles, six with rifles,” Robert whispered. Lyosha nodded.

  “We take them out, then you cover me,” he responded.

  “No, we take them out, then you cover me. You weren’t supposed to be here, remember?”

  “As you wish.”

  They both aimed through the sights.

  “On three. One, two, three!”

  In a barrage of silent fire, the seven dropped to the ground dead. Robert nodded to Lyosha, who nodded back, and then he advanced toward the pens. The girls were screaming and the men he could see in the pens were crouching down. He carefully aimed and shot one, then the other, and then continued his advance to check the rest of the pens. As he approached the next bank of pens, a half-naked man raised a pistol at him, but before he could react, he fell to the floor, the victim of Lyosha’s cover fire. The girl in the pen was squatting on the floor on her knees, her head covered, and screaming in terror.

  Robert found the final “customer” in the last pen raising his hands in surrender.

  “We’re not taking any prisoners. Allahu Akbar.”

  Robert shot him between the eyes and he went down.

  Lyosha and Robert made a quick sweep of the warehouse, then Robert made his announcement in Arabic to the girls.

  “We are here to rescue you, but you have to move quickly and do everything we say!”

  Robert noticed he had their full attention and continued, while Lyosha disarmed the bodies.

  “We are going to open the pens now, and we want you to gather anything in your immediate vicinity to cover up with and then line up right here.”

  Robert waited while Lyosha opened the pens and the girls lined up as instructed. They counted 61 of them, scantily covered with blankets.

  “Now we are going to have to move fast. I will be out front and my friend here in the back. We may have to shoot some more people, so please don’t panic and keep moving with us. If we tell you to get down, then drop to the floor and lie flat. Do you understand?”

  There were no questions, many nods and many murmurs of agreement. Obviously, the women were happy to be rescued. Now came the hard part – getting out alive.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  In the corridor, Lyosha radioed his team and confirmed the status of all other teams in the mission as: “Rescue accomplished with no casualties – ready for extraction.” There was one minute to go on the clock. Robert opened the window a crack and began receiving small arms fire from the outside. Instead of firing back, he called to Lyosha.

  “I’m taking small arms fire.”

  “I’ll take higher ground and take them out.”

  “Go ahead!”

  Lyosha radioed when he was in place and Robert heard as he drew hostile fire above. He cracked the door open again and joined, just as the BTRs pulled up. Robert fired in the direction of the muzzle fire from across the street. The BTR’s turret rotated toward the firing as well and shot an 81 mm smoke grenade into the building. When the firing had subsided, Robert radioed Lyosha.

  “We’re going to load now.”

  “I cover from here.”

  Robert called out his instructions to the girls.

  “We’re going to load you into armored trucks in groups of ten. When I tell you, run to the truck and stay low to the ground. Don’t be afraid of the firing. It’s to keep you safe.”

  Robert counted out the groups. There was an eruption of firing from across the street, which Lyosha returned. Robert prepared the first group, lobbed a grenade in the direction of the small arms fire, as well as a smoke bomb to obscure the exit path. The first two girls scrambled to the BTR, their hands over their ears.

  “Keep going! Into the truck!”

  The next two ran to the BTR under heavy cover, followed by two more, and then the last two sets. The BTRs were bumper-to-bumper, and the first moved forward so the next truck could load. They were still taking small arms fire from across the street, which Lyosha and Robert were returning. Robert lobbed a grenade toward the muzzle fire and the explosion temporarily silenced the fire. The machine gunner on the BTR fired for cover to distract the militants from the precious cargo it was taking on.

  “Next group! Go! Now!”

  The second group of girls ran to the next truck two by two, which loaded and rolled forward. Robert threw another grenade and sent the third group, followed by the fourth and fifth with no glitches except sporadic firing from different angles, which Lyosha was able to cover, along with Robert’s grenades and the BTRs firepower covering their exit.

  As Robert prepared the last group of girls, he heard the whoosh of an incoming RPG.

  “RPG! Get down!”

  The girls hit the ground at the top of the stairs as the rocket-propelled grenade exploded on the staircase. The BTR shot a high explosive projectile from its 30 mm cannon in the direction of the RPG fire, obliterating the position. Robert threw another smoke bomb, followed by a grenade, and huddled over each girl in the last batch, one by one, guiding them over the damaged stairs to the truck. He called to Lyosha on the radio.

  “The last one’s in. Come down!”

  “Coming!”

  In less than two minutes, Lyosha appeared at the entrance, and Robert fired for cover as he rambled into the last BTR.

  Lyosha took off his helmet, and switched to his hand-held radio. He was speaking in Russian to his team, but he had a disappointed look on his face.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “We lost two girls at tannery to RPG explosion. One of my men hit trying to rescue them.”

  “All others accounted for?”

  “Yes. We have 93 girls total.”

  “Now we just have to get the hell across that river.”

  The convoy was taking small arms fire from both sides of the street, and their machine gunners shot back, but now they were being pursued by trucks that had been turned into improvised fighting vehicles and a Cobra armored vehicle firing a machine gun at them. The rear BTR’s turret turned and aimed at the Cobra and fired a direct hit with an armor-piercing projectile. A plume of smoke emanated from the top, indicating that it had been completely disabled.. The BTR riddled the trucks with machine gun fire, stopping three of them immediately. Two other pursuing trucks veered off course.

  The lead BTR used its surveillance camera with a range of three kilometers to spot the hostiles ahead, and its commander targeted them, firing the cannon in rapid succession. An incoming RPG came out of nowhere and exploded on the side of the third BTR, but it kept rolling.

  At the next intersection, an old T-55 tank rolled in front of the convoy but before it had a chance to fire, the lead BTR fired its cannon multiple times, hitting it. Steam and smoke emitted from the tank as the convoy passed it, shooting their machine guns at it for good measure.

  The convoy finally reached the river, taking fire from several armed vehicles ahead and pursued by two amphibious BDRM armored patrol cars. The BTRs began to traverse the river, and the rear BTR fired on the BDRMs that took evasive action, but followed them into the water, shooting at them with their 14.5 mm machine guns.

  When the BTRs made it to the river, they were taking fire from an odd assortment of military vehicles on the other side. Firing back, they entered the river and their rear water jets took over, turning them into boats. When they reached the opposite bank, their wheels took purchase and lifted them out of the ground, firing their cannons at the hostiles ahead. Lyosha called to the last BTR, and as soon as they had passed the hostiles, he called for air support, which was standing by.

  Two Ka-52 attack helicopters ca
me rumbling in from high above, raining down rockets of hellfire on the pursuing militants. Lyosha confirmed the hits and checked in with his BTR crew as they sped away into the desert.

  “I think we have made it,” Lyosha declared, and high-fived Robert.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  The BTR convoy reached the FOB and unloaded their feminine payload into the waiting hands of the medics, who draped them with blankets.

  “What will happen to the girls now?”

  “We take them to Damascus, first to hospital, and then help them sort out immigration problems. Then they go back home.”

  Robert recalled the story of Rahbi Moghadam and his daughter.

  “I hope they’ll make it.”

  Both men knew it was impossible for the women to go back to their lives. They would be haunted forever, day and night, by the horrors they had experienced in the Islamic State. But time would soften the wounds for at least some of them, and they would be free.

  “What about you, Boab?”

  “I’m going back into retirement.”

  Lyosha laughed. “Right. Which explains why I keep seeing you here in Syria.”

  “No, really. This is it for me. I’m going to sail the world.”

  A helicopter descended and touched down on the landing pad. Lyosha slapped him on the back.

  “Here is your ride. If you ever find yourself back in this fucked-up part of world, remember you have a friend here.”

  “So, you’re stuck here?”

  “Until we clear out all cockroaches from this place, yes.”

  “You will. Good luck, Lyosha.”

  They shook hands, then grasped each other in a “man-hug.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  The memorial service was an unusual one for the Noor al-Islam mosque in San Francisco. Unusual because there was no body. But Ayisha had explained her sister’s unwavering faith to the imam and the fact that her wishes would have been to have a Muslim funeral service. The mosque was plain, simple, and had none of the gold trimmings that Ayisha’s father, David, would have expected from his Catholic church. But he respected the wishes of his departed daughter, which is what his wife, Adeline, would have expected him to do, and her wishes were far more important than any religious faith.