After the Fall: A Prelude to The Senator's Son
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Matador’s team pressed ahead as quickly as caution allowed. The footpath wrapped around the contours of the hills and over the top, where no ledge could be found. He knew exactly how much time it would take to reach their first objective. Locke pressed ahead unseen. The rest of the team followed just out of sight. They covered the distance without interference.
They stopped on the crest overlooking the bridge. Matador dropped down next to Locke, who was surveying the opposite hill with his rifle scope. Matador found his binoculars and did the same.
“Anything?”
“Nothing yet.”
Matador considered that. There should be a patrol this close to the camp. On the far side of the bridge, the path ascended sharply up a rock face, then disappeared around a corner. The rest of the path was beyond sight.
Matador spoke into his bone phone. “Bring up the Wasp.”
A moment later, Schlitz skidded down next to them. “Fellas.” He pulled off his rucksack and retrieved a flat beige container. Inside, parts for what looked like a model plane rested in shaped foam.
It took only a few minutes to assemble the Wasp and prepare it for flight. The miniature plane’s electric engine hummed quietly. Schlitz stood, turned away from the bridge, and launched it like an oversized paper airplane. It dipped slightly until it caught the wind under its own propulsion. Matador watched the grey drone disappear into the night.
The control system looked like a military-grade game console. Schlitz worked the joysticks on either side of the compact screen. The Wasp’s EO/IR sensor transmitted a black and white image that resembled a film negative. The Wasp gained altitude, arced, and passed over the gorge. Schlitz set it into a wide circle pattern, searching for an unseen enemy.
Matador watched the screen. From this view, he could see the path climb steeply up from the bridge, switch back to the right, then disappear into a deep fissure in the rock before emerging on the ridge above. The pass was shrouded in darkness. The Wasp looped around again. Nothing. On the forth revolution, the sensors picked up something.
“There.” Despite the bad angle, Matador was sure of what he saw. Two indistinct shapes—men standing in a hollow of the rock. At least two. An advantageous location; they would spot anyone rounding the corner, but couldn’t be seen from the bridge or the far side of the gorge. “The welcoming committee.”
“Won’t be able to draw them out,” Schlitz said.
“Nope. They’ll dig in and radio for help.”
“Want to hit ‘em heavy?”
“Can’t risk the noise.”
Schlitz nodded. “Let me do it.”
“That’s a negative. You’ve got your toy to play with.”
“Fullback can operate the Wasp.”
“You know, I liked you better when you smoked.”
“I never smoked, chief.”
“You should start.”
Schlitz grinned. “I’ll keep eyes on target.”
“That’s right.”
Matador stepped out of the shadows. Trigger followed. The path down to the bridge descended sharply. Long ago, steps had been chiseled into the limestone, their edges rounded from the passage of countless travelers. The path tumbled down, across the narrow bridge, and up the other side. The opposite ridge was so steep, the path was actually built of limestone bricks stacked along the vertical cliff face.
Trigger trailed Matador by ten paces, their movements almost synchronized. A plaid bandana hung around his neck under a blond beard and a shooter’s cap.
The path dropped and curved to the left. They were fully exposed to anyone watching from the other side. No place to hide; no place to take cover. The wind picked up, pulling lustily at Matador’s beard. He took each step with care, keeping his dark eyes and iron sights centered on the ridge where the enemy hid.
After a tense descent, he felt the path level out under his feet. The bridge stretched out ahead. Stones stacked knee-high along the edge provided little more than a stumbling block to anyone who ventured too close. The gorge dropped abruptly below. The bridge formed the perfect bottleneck for an ambush—one he felt coming.
He crossed.
Ten steps in, his bone phone came alive.
“Matador, this is Overlord. Over.”
Matador knelt and held up a fist. Trigger knelt too.
“Roger, Overlord. Go ahead.”
“Matador, we are patching a call through from Hotel Oscar. Copy?”
Matador looked back at Trigger. His rifle was trained on the ridge.
“Roger, Overlord. Can it wait?”
“Negative, Matador. You’re being retasked. You have a new mission.”
He cursed. “What is it?” He listened while Overlord gave him a quick summary. He cursed again.
“Roger that. Hold for Hotel Oscar. They will fill in the details. Over.”
Matador clenched his teeth. He looked around at the jagged hills towering over the gorge. His target was hiding out there somewhere, he knew it. Matador had taught him how to evade detection, how to hide from the satellites and electronic surveillance. He trained him in the art of covert action. He knew how the man operated because it was exactly how he would if in his place. In a way it was like tracking himself. That was his one advantage. If he let off now, he might lose that edge.
He still had time.
He stood, and a bullet grazed his shoulder.
The shot echoed through the canyon. It came from above. Matador dove to the ground. The shot was follow by three more. Those sounded different; they were clustered and muffled. More like a loud cough. A man fell out of the shadows and onto the path ahead. Matador glanced over at Trigger who was scanning for his next target. It came with a vengeance.
The mountains burst into fire. Gunfire flashed on both sides of the bridge. Matador returned fire. Controlled, he stood and moved across the bridge and up the path, firing measured bursts as he went. The fighting roared through the gorge.
Stone splintered around him. He kept moving with his eyes down sight, searching for a target. He found one, then another. He came to the switchback on the path. The first dead man lay there. Around the corner, he’d be exposed to the men in the pass—those they spotted with the Wasp. He didn’t even pause.
In one fluid motion, he took a compression grenade, pulled the pin, and lobbed it left-handed up the path. As soon as it exploded, he rounded the corner, weapons hot.
The pass was utterly dark and cave-like. Parts of a man were scattered on the path. The grenade had done its job. Matador moved on, looking for others. The pass climbed and grew more narrow. Ahead, a large boulder choked the path. He paused, knelt, then let out a low whistle.
A man with a Kalashnikov stood and fired. He ripped off a wild burst of fire that thundered through the pass, yelling as he emptied his clip. His muzzle flashed blindingly, like standing on the tracks of an oncoming train.
Matador squeezed off a three-round burst.
The Kalashnikov went silent.
Matador advanced past the dead man’s boulder. The pass opened up to a wide hilltop overlooking another canyon. In the distance, the trail snaked around the rocky escarpment to a cluster of stone houses perched in the hills. Their final destination.
His tactical radio came to life again.
“Matador, are you there?” The voice belonged to Robert Gutierrez. Ambient noise coming through the line competed with Gutierrez’s voice. Matador assumed he was on speaker phone in some conference room back in the States.
“I’m here. Go ahead.”
“Have you been briefed on the purpose for this call?”
“Hostage situation in the Kingdom. Somebody important, I guess.” Trigger came up behind him. Matador watched him check the body of the fallen terrorist.
“A senator’s son,” Gutierrez said. “They want the senator and president in exchange for his life.”
Matador exchanged his empty mag for a fresh one. “So in other words, this guy’s a dead man.�
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“That’s why we’re calling you. They’ll kill the hostage in thirty-six hours if their demands are not met. Clock started two hours ago. We need you in Jeddah as soon as possible.”
“I’m in the field.”
“A Little Bird is on it’s way. A passport, car, and a weapons cache will be waiting in Jeddah. You’ll be attached to the consulate, so you’ll have diplomatic immunity. We’re uploading an intel package to your phone now.”
“Hey, I’m legal this time. Guy must be important,” he said incredulously. “What about my team?”
“Your team will complete the mission without you. The Saudis agreed to let us send you in. Colonel Abdullah Al Saccar, commander of the Saudi Emergency Force, is expecting you. It’s been arranged.”
“Lovely.” Matador killed the call.
His target was within sight.
He wasn’t going anywhere.
THREE