All looked toward where he pointed.
McCarter said, “All right, enough sightseeing. Let’s shag our butts and get this done. Rafe?”
Encizo nodded and after one last check he emerged from cover and sprinted across the uneven terrain of wet sand. Tides had been high the past three days so there wasn’t a dry spot to be found. Despite the squashing underfoot, Encizo managed to glide across the ground in a whisper-quiet fashion. Years of training in maritime combat had made him the weapon of choice for situations just like this one.
Hawkins came next, prompted by a gesture from Encizo, who had settled near where the trees gave way to a path leading from the dock up to what served as the back door into the bunker complex. At least according to the layout Kurtzman had provided.
McCarter had insisted on a two-pronged attack this time, letting Encizo and Hawkins clear a path before the other three would bring up the rear in a support role. Once they were assured that an ambush didn’t await them on the path, the pair nodded to each other and burst from cover. McCarter waited for James and Manning to go before leaving his spot. They had just barely reached the same point from which Encizo and Hawkins had just left when they heard weapons fire coming from up the path.
“About twenty yards,” James said. “Give or take.”
“Let’s do it,” McCarter ordered.
The three charged up the path and crashed through a narrow point before it opened onto the production facility housed inside the bunker area. The range was visible just to the left, as was the roof of the main facility. The trio spotted Encizo and Hawkins as they picked their way toward one point of the bunker where muzzle-flashes were visible.
All three men grabbed the nearest cover, raised their weapons and began to trigger alternating volleys at the muzzle-flashes. They may not have hit anything but the suppression technique worked well all the same. Hawkins and Encizo pressed forward, moving with the cautious ease of practiced professionals.
Encizo reached the enemy emplacement first. He pressed his back to the part of the bunker protruding from the ground, primed a fragmentation grenade and tossed it through an opening. He then moved off and away at an angle in time to avoid the blast, which followed just microseconds after the shouts of surprise coming from the enemy within. The shrapnel did its work, the blast in the confined space even powerful enough to send a human arm, or what remained of it, rocketing from the opening. Phoenix Force had succeeded in their mission.
I only hope we find something to make it bloody well worth it, David McCarter thought.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The battle to take the bunker had only just begun.
Although Phoenix Force managed to breach the perimeter, there were still the mortar emplacements to contend with, as well as personnel that might be waiting to ambush the warriors. McCarter decided the best way to deal with that situation was to split his team into two groups, one to handle the exterior resistance while the second did an interior search to clear any remaining enemy occupants.
Manning and James were lucky enough to get handpicked to take out the mortars, a job they were itching to do since it would mean securing the rest of their teammates from any further light artillery attacks.
Manning, having been wounded during their initial breach, felt especially committed to taking them out once and forever. He demonstrated his relish for the job by being the first one to engage a pair of mortar men. Madari’s engineers had cut a shallow trench on the perimeter of the proving grounds where they’d lined the same with mortar emplacements. It seemed almost like old-fashioned trench warfare, but in this case the enemy didn’t seem all that aware its position had been overrun.
Manning explained it with two controlled bursts from his MP-5 SD6. The impact of 9 mm rounds was close enough to lift the first of the two targets onto his toes. He teetered backward and slammed into his comrade, who took the first two-thirds of a 3-round burst to the shoulder and the last slug through the side of his neck. The man emitted a queer, blood gurgle before dropping like a stone onto the corpse of his partner.
Two more enemy gunners saw the battle and rushed up the trench from the opposite direction, drawing side arms, revenge evident in their expressions. James knew it wouldn’t stand. He raised the M-16 A3 to his shoulder, the weapon in single-shot mode, and triggered one successive round after another. The 5.5 6mm high-velocity bullets made short work of the pair. The first caught a round just below his nose. It smashed bone in his face, crunching the upper palette before continuing onward until it sheared his brain stem. The second gunner received two shots to the chest but that didn’t stop his forward motion. Even dead on his feet, he managed to trip over his deceased comrade before his lifeless body landed in the mushy sand floor of the trench face-first.
“Blast those emplacements downrange!” Manning shouted to James. “I’ll take care of these!”
James nodded, whirled and dashed in the direction from which their would-be ambushers had come. His AR had an M-203 mounted beneath it and was already primed with a 40 mm HE grenade. Manning didn’t have a grenade launcher but James knew it wouldn’t be a problem. He had his bag of tricks with him, and destroying the emplacements at the other end would pose no difficulty to the Canadian explosives expert.
James stopped when he got within firing distance, took a knee and brought the M-16 A3 to his shoulder. He free-sighted, disengaged the flip-down safety and stroked the trigger. The weapon bucked against his shoulder with the kick of a shotgun, and a moment later the mortar emplacement disappeared in a fireball of high explosive that whooshed eighty-two feet into the air. James grinned, nodded with self-satisfaction and then rose and headed back to cover his partner.
* * *
ONCE RAFAEL ENCIZO used det cord to make short work of the door, he, McCarter and Hawkins proceeded inside. They staggered themselves with plenty of space between as they came through the makeshift entrance and moved down the corridor, weapons at the ready. Once more, Encizo had point with McCarter and then Hawkins on rear guard.
They reached the end of the corridor unchallenged and encountered a snag. The heavy steel door was secured by an electronic lock mechanism, one only accessible by a swipe card.
Hawkins suggested blowing this one, too, but Encizo shook his head. “Out of ordnance.”
“And we can’t risk taking the time to go find Gary,” McCarter said
Hawkins’s face brightened. “Wait a minute…”
He turned and trotted down the corridor, disappearing from view. McCarter and Encizo backed off the door a few feet and crouched in the dim light.
“You think there’s anyone inside waiting for us?” Encizo asked.
McCarter shrugged. “Who knows? Could be. Madari’s people have been able to stay one step ahead of us so far. This is actually the first time we’ve managed to do our bloody jobs with any effect.”
Noise at the entrance demanded their attention and Hawkins returned holding a computerized swipe card with a grin. “May we be needing this?”
“Where’d you get it?” Encizo asked.
“Picked it off one of those sentries we took out back on the path.”
“That’s good thinking, T.J.”
Encizo reached out and Hawkins transferred the card to him. The Cuban inspected it a moment and then rose, shuffled the door and swiped it downward. The lights next to the control pad changed from red to amber, and then after a soft double beep went green with a hiss.
As Encizo pocketed the card and pulled the handle to open the door, he muttered, “Interesting—sounds almost like it was hermetically sealed.”
“Hold it,” McCarter ordered, putting his hand on Encizo’s arm. “You think it’s a good idea to go in there unprotected? They might have been experimenting with chemical weapons.”
It was Hawkins who replied. “Doubtful, boss. While they may be dealing with s
ome basic industrial chemicals like helium and such, there wouldn’t be any danger of biologicals.”
Encizo nodded. “He’s right. Not to mention that nobody we’ve encountered up to this point appears to have been wearing hazmat suits. I think it’s safe.”
McCarter exchanged glances with the two and then slowly nodded at Encizo to proceed as he removed his hand of restraint.
The trio went through the door, McCarter and Hawkins following well after Encizo made entry and signaled he’d cleared the immediate area with a twirling sign. They continued in the same staggered formation up the hall, generous space between them, their target a well-lit doorway. The hallway terminated at a flight of steps that descended to a landing. Beyond the landing they emerged in a massive production area. Odd-looking machines of every type dotted the lab-like facility. There were computer monitors and testing equipment scattered along stainless-steel tables, but all of them were dark. Bright, sterile lights overhead provided the only illumination.
Hawkins emitted a long whistle. “Holy guacamole.”
“You said it,” Encizo agreed.
“Well, obviously this is where they were producing the EMP prototypes,” McCarter observed.
“You think Madari really was cranking out weapons here?” Encizo inquired.
McCarter nodded. “I’m no specialist but I’d say this is awfully intricate to be sheer window dressing. It looks to me as though he was using Dratshev to conduct the real deal.”
Hawkins pointed across the room to cylinders lined against a far wall. “Those are helium tanks. I recognize the chemical symbols painted on them.”
“Why helium?” Encizo asked.
“Probably acts as some sort of cooling mechanism,” Hawkins replied. “Like McCarter, I’m no physicist. But I know enough to tell you with certainty that building an electromagnetic pulse strong enough to be used as a weapon would generate massive amounts of heat. Liquid helium or frozen CO2 are about the only two substances I know of capable of reducing that heat.”
McCarter nodded. “He’s right. Water-soluble oils or glycols wouldn’t cut it. We’re talking massive heat.”
“And the CO2 probably isn’t practical because it would take so much,” Encizo said with a nod.
“Sounds like you know a bit more about it than you let on, Rafe,” Hawkins said with a playful punch.
“Not really. I was a maritime accidents investigator at one time. Remember? Large quantities of carbon dioxide are very common aboard marine vessels.”
“Of course,” McCarter said. “Use them for fire suppression.”
Encizo nodded. “Among other things.”
Their earbuds signaled for attention followed by Manning with his call sign. McCarter said, “Go ahead.”
“We’re clear here. Heading on your position now.”
“Roger that.”
“Um, my comp shows you’re underground?”
“Yeah. Just follow the breadcrumbs.” McCarter grinned at his comrades as he added, “You’ll find us. And keep a watch on your six. Looks the facility’s been abandoned but no telling if there are stragglers.”
“Understood. See you in two mikes.”
“Out,” McCarter replied. “Okay, we’ll wait until they get here and then start combing this place for any intelligence. Hawkins, see if you can get these computer systems turned on. Rafe, you start scraping for any evidence of what they might have been up to here. No detail is too small. If they really do have active weaponry, even prototypes, we’re going to need to know everything we can about what we might face.”
“What about Madari and friends?” Hawkins asked. “We can’t let them get to wherever they might be going if those things are hot.”
“Won’t matter if we don’t know how to fight him.”
“Agreed,” Encizo said. “Those computer models Bear ran for us indicated a single EMP weapon could fire a beam with a magnitude sufficient to pulverize all of us in a moment. It’s like a midair earthquake.”
“Either way, it’s not how I plan to go,” McCarter said. “So let’s get to work and figure out how to combat this threat. It’s time to put Madari to bloody rest.”
* * *
THANKFULLY, NERO finally ordered the klaxons off now that his men were in position. The HSY had closed the gap considerably, despite Nero’s instructions to his pilot and navigator to keep the boat on course and make best possible speed toward the port city of Derna.
“Technically,” Nero told Stanish, “we’ve cleared the nautical boundaries of the Aegean. However, that wouldn’t seem to matter to this interdiction patrol.”
She nodded. “Our good Hellenic captain aboard that patrol boat apparently got his directives from on high. I’d say he plans to follow them to the letter.”
“As I’ve said, we’re no match for a military vessel.”
Stanish whirled on Nero. “Captain Nero, this is your ship but it is the property of Ishaq Madari. You will not surrender the ship under any circumstances.”
Nero splayed his hands. “But I have no choice.”
“I do,” she said. She yanked her pistol from its place of concealment and pointed it at Nero’s head. “Now either you resist them with every tool at your disposal or I’ll be forced to take over and do it for you.”
Nero’s eyes grew wide. While he might have been a seasoned sailor, he was no means an experienced combatant.
Technically, what Stanish was doing could be considered mutiny and would most possibly buy her a bullet in the back when she wasn’t looking. But that didn’t mean she’d give up without a fight. She’d always been a fighter according to her father, who she was sure had secretly wanted a son but instead got a bouncing baby girl.
Oh, her father had always loved her. She didn’t have a daddy complex, something she’d been certain to rid from her psyche so she could pass the psychological batteries the CIA had thrown against her during the early recruitment period. Unfortunately her father’s attitude toward her had been more aloof and her mother hadn’t been around long enough to figure out she’d been missing love. Stanish wondered if that’s why she’d clung so desperately to her love for Ishaq Madari—or at least the idea of loving him. Now, after what he’d done and how he had lied to her, she had to wonder what it had all been about. She didn’t believe anymore that he really cared about her.
Either way, Stanish needed to protect her own interests now, whatever the costs. She would use Nero for such purposes and, failing that, she would kill him and take her chances with the Hellenic navy. After all, she could convince them she’d been kidnapped and brought aboard against her will, and request the protection of the Greek government. She already had the proper documents with any number of new identities. “Mishka” and Muriel Stanish would simply disappear.
“Decide, Captain Nero. Now.”
Nero nodded finally and Stanish lowered the pistol to her side. She wasn’t about to put it away. A new relationship had been created between them and it wasn’t one she preferred. She looked to the foredeck, where the massive square fixture covered the EMP weapon—or so that’s what Nero had told her. She had no reason to doubt him, since at that point he’d not had any reason to mistrust her.
“Order your men to put that thing into action,” she said. Nero nodded and reached hesitantly for the radio. She added, “Do it slowly.”
When he’d finished giving the orders, Stanish watched at least a half dozen men go into action. They rushed across the deck and got busy disassembling the shell covering the weapon. When they’d completed the work, the weapon stood gleaming in the midday sun. The HSY-56A had now come within firing distance. The radio squawked to life the next instant, and Stanish knew it had to be the commander of the Hellenic navy vessel.
“They’re ordering us to heave to,” Nero said.
She shook her hea
d. “Ignore them. They’ll next fire a warning shot across the bow. Get that thing prepared to fire.”
“But—”
Stanish raised the pistol once more. “Do it now! Don’t make me ask again!”
“Yes, despinis!” He grabbed the radio and barked some more orders.
She watched with satisfaction as the octagonal body swerved into position. The oddest thing about the weapon was that it didn’t have any barrels, and thus no profile to indicate it was a weapon. In fact, to Stanish it looked like little more than a spotlight. The exterior coating was painted matte white with no other distinguishing marks, and the main firing port was rectangular in shape. To look at it head-on would have left nearly anyone with the impression of a gigantic flash bulb, similar to the fancy cameras of decades past.
The only odd accoutrements on the device were the massive, high-pressure coils that rippled from its sides. She didn’t know much about EMPs but she’d heard enough talk from guys like Steinham and Dratshev to know they were filled with liquid helium. This served as a cooling agent to the device as the EMP charge built up, moving the liquid helium through high-pressure chambers at supersonic speeds.
“It’s much like the same system used by the CERN large hadron collider,” Dratshev had once explained, “but on a microcosmic scale by any reasonable comparison.”
The men aboard the ship shifted nervously as the EMP finally locked into position. Stanish looked at Nero, who watched her with nervous eyes, and then she nodded. Nero seemed hesitant at first, but a few flicks of his eyes at the pistol she held casually at her side seemed to serve as a sufficient reminder of her threat. Finally, Nero reached for a button atop the main console of the bridge controls and pressed it.
At first she thought it was the actual firing mechanism but then realized it was nothing more than a signal to the men below to engage the weapon. Stanish’s eyes traveled to the weapon with fascination. She’d never seen anything like it. Sonar disruptions and laser beams in small laboratory tests, yes. Once she’d even been invited to watch surface-to-air defense systems aboard a U.S. Navy cruiser. But this? No, nothing like this—a weapon that boasted such power it could easily destroy whole vessels if applied well and able to build a sufficient amount of energy.
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