Gray Matter Splatter (A Deckard Novel Book 4)

by Jack Murphy

  Jiahao took off deeper into the tunnel, trailed by a dozen men. The others began hauling in the tectonic device on its sled.

  “Find the geothermal power plant and get it connected,” the Chinese commander ordered. “I want it energized and ready to fire as soon as possible.”

  “I’ll oversee the installation myself,” Shun volunteered.

  “Come to me when it is done,” Jiahao said.

  Walking deeper into the tunnel, he smiled as he heard the Danish workers screaming when his gunmen confronted them, their cries echoing down the dark walls.

  * * *

  Infiltrating across the flat, open tundra seemed impossible at first glance, but Nikita had been perfecting the technique. Tying his skis together, the sniper lay on his belly, using the skis as a sled to slide across the snow. In front of the skis he had jury-rigged a wire mesh that had a piece of white fabric pulled tightly across it. Although it would never stop a bullet, it blended in perfectly with the snow, creating a camouflage screen between him and the suspected enemy position. Using the toes of his boots and hands to scoot forward, he pushed himself toward the mine.

  Aghassi had a similar rig and was doing the same 10 meters off of his right flank. All they had to go off of was a picture he had pulled off of Google Earth back at the fiber optic station and a few stories that Evan and David had heard about the ASX mine, as neither of them had actually been there. The private sector had to provide their own internal security, so the men of Sirius Patrol were not going to hang around like mall cops.

  “See anything yet?” Aghassi whispered over his radio to the Kazakh sniper.

  “Da,” he replied. Having cut a small hole in the white fabric, he was able to scout up ahead with his scope and, if need be, take a shot. “Five or six small buildings. It looks like there is a cable car system that runs up into the mines in the cliffs above.”

  As they scooted their way closer, Aghassi pulled out his binoculars and looked through a small slit he had cut in his own sniper blind. A cluster of squat one-story buildings formed near the base of a sheer cliff that rose about 900 feet up. The dark rocks looked as if they had been pushed from the earth’s crust in primordial times, left standing as a memorial to a time before man.

  “I’ve got someone,” Nikita’s voice whispered in Aghassi’s earpiece.

  This operation was starting to feel a lot like a previous recce mission they had done at a Mexican drug lord’s villa.

  “Two, no three,” the sniper corrected himself. “Looks like a perimeter patrol. I don’t see any communications platform or satellite dish though.”

  What did the NSA pick up, then? They had told him that it was a high-frequency system, and HF was usually very hard to track.

  “We should hear generators as well,” Aghassi said. “Otherwise, what is powering their commo system?”

  “You want me to take these guys out?” Nikita asked eagerly.

  Just as the transmission finished, Aghassi spotted another two Oculus men with Tavor assault rifles come out from one of the buildings.

  “Hold your fire. We don’t know how many there are and we are sitting ducks if they figure out where we are shooting from.”

  “No firefight? Then what’s the plan?”

  Aghassi looked up at the rectangular-shaped holes carved into the side of the cliff hundreds of feet above the ground. Perhaps it was just intuition speaking at this point, but they didn’t have much else to go on.

  “Same as always. You’re on overwatch while I do something really stupid.”

  Chapter 31

  Aghassi shifted his trajectory toward the shed that ran the cable cars up the side of the mountain, slowly kicking and pulling himself across the snow like a turtle. It was none too comforting to know that if he was spotted, there was only a thin piece of white cloth between him and a half dozen Tavor assault rifles.

  Nikita radioed him several times, instructing him to remain still until a sentry passed and was no longer looking in his direction. Then he would continue forward, stealing a glance through the slit in the cloth to make sure he was still on azimuth to his intended destination. After half an hour, he arrived behind the shed and covered his skis and camo blind with snow. Inside, he could hear the gentle whirl of the cable being pulled along steel wheels.

  “Let me know when I’m clear,” Aghassi radioed to the sniper.

  “Give it a minute. One of them is having a smoke about fifty meters from you.”

  “Any sign of the miners?”

  “No, none.”

  Aghassi took a breath, knowing that he was about to take a huge gamble. Without any sign of a communications system outside, it was likely they had energized something else to turn it into an active antenna.

  “OK,” Nikita transmitted. “You’re clear.”

  Aghassi broke from cover and snaked around the corner of the shed, into the wheelhouse, the cable running above his head as he disappeared into the shadows inside. When Oculus took over the compound, they had clearly not bothered to mess with the control panel and shut the cable cars down. Large rectangular boxes were running up and down from the mountain on a perpetual loop. Most likely they were loaded with rare earth minerals that were now going for a merry-go-round ride since the miners had been killed or were tied up somewhere.

  He watched pensively as one of the mineral boxes came down the cable from the mine toward him. Positioning himself on the opposite side of the giant iron wheel that turned the cable, he waited for it to approach. The metal box cranked down into the shed and flared outward from the bottom slightly as it went around the wheel. Aghassi pounced on it like a cat, his hands clawing for purchase as he was nearly thrown onto the concrete floor. Luckily, he found a metal rod sticking out of the back end of the box that the miners would use to position it when emptying minerals onto the nearby conveyer belt.

  In seconds, he was being lifted skyward, quickly gaining elevation as the box was hoisted back up the side of the mountain. Looking down, he saw the mining camp, which looked like model railroad scenery from above. A sentry wearing his overwhites and carrying a spray-painted rifle patrolled below him, unaware of the Samruk mercenary’s tactical gambit.

  “That took some balls,” Nikita’s voice said inside the spy’s earpiece.

  Aghassi gritted his teeth and focused on not plummeting to his death. The dark entrance to the mine loomed ahead, slowly getting closer and closer. The cable car bounced, dropping a few inches and then righting itself as the cable strained. The mercenary held on with both hands, white knuckling it all the way up to the mine. Finally, the box slid into the cutout in the side of the cliff, passing with just inches to spare on either side.

  Ensuring that he had solid ground beneath him first, Aghassi released and fell five feet, landing on the balls of his feet in a crouch. Taking a few steps out of the way so that he didn’t get slammed by the next cable car, he unslung his Kalashnikov and took a knee. For a full minute he watched and listened for sounds of life. The first thing he noticed was the parallel set of rails for mining carts at his feet. He knew he had to be careful not to touch the rails. If his hunch was correct, making physical contact with the metal could kill him.

  Slowly, he stepped forward, remaining as quiet as possible by setting down the heel of his boot with each step and then rolling it forward to his toes. A series of bare bulbs lit up the corridor that tunneled into the mountain, but they also left enough shadows for him to hide in. The sides of the tunnel were chipped black rock that had been drilled through, now coated in a thin sheet of slick ice. His breath hung in the air like a cloud. A few hundred meters in, Aghassi thought he spotted a distant glow that wasn’t generated by one of the light bulbs. It seemed to be closer to the ground.

  Tension filled his body with each step forward. If caught in an ambush, there was nowhere for him to run to. He would be gunned down in seconds. As the glowing rectangle grew clearer in his view, it became apparent that the glow was an open computer screen. He heard the shuf
fling of gravel under a booted foot, then some clicks coming from the computer terminal. It could have been one of the miners hiding in the tunnels, but Aghassi wasn’t willing to take that bet.

  Sticking to the side of the tunnel, he crept forward until he saw a silhouette passing in front of the computer screen. Just one person. Now he crouched down, careful not to cast a shadow from the light thrown off by one of the bulbs behind him. Finally, he found himself just a few meters away from the computer terminal and the lone figure crouched over it. A Tavor rifle lay propped against the wall of the mine next to him.

  The Oculus commando had close-cropped hair and a medium build. He also wore overwhites like the rest of his teammates. As Aghassi neared, some sort of sixth sense must have told the Oculus member to turn around to face an imminent threat. He was a half second too late. Aghassi brought his buttstock down on his trapezius muscle. Aghassi didn’t want to knock him unconscious as he needed to question him. Instead, he went for a muscle that would only incapacitate him. The butt stroke had the desired effect. The commando fell to the ground in a heap, clutching his shoulder.

  The American put a boot down on his chest, pinning him to the ground as he trained his AK on the enemy.

  “How many more of you guys are up here?”

  The Oculus commando looked at him blankly. Maybe he was just playing dumb. The mercenary took a hard look at his face, noting the dark skin tone and thick eyebrows.

  “You energized the minecart rails,” Aghassi said in Persian Farsi.

  Now the bushy eyebrows shot up his forehead in surprise.

  “Yes, I know your language.”

  “Then you should know that I would never talk to the likes of you,” the Iranian hissed.

  “It’s over,” Aghassi said. “You played your cards well, but this is the end of the line for Oculus. Now you need to start thinking about an exit strategy for yourself. A bullet in a mineshaft, a lifetime sentence in a supermax prison, or a presidential pardon for defection and a nice house in Virginia. Your choice.”

  “I choose a fourth way.”

  “There is no—”

  With that, the Iranian swung his hand and cupped it over his mouth, swallowing something.

  Aghassi slammed his knee into the Iranian’s chest and pried his hand away, but it was already too late. In seconds, the Iranian’s eyes began to roll back into his skull and his body convulsed. As he shook, white foam formed at the corners of his mouth. The American shook his head, recognizing the smell of almonds. A cyanide pill.

  “Death before dishonor,” Aghassi whispered as he turned toward the computer terminal.

  Sure enough, the computer was connected to a radio receiver, which was in turn wired to the minecart rails. Another line went deeper into the shaft, connecting to a generator with a transformer to modulate the electricity to the correct frequency. More than likely it was dialed in around 54.5 hertz to transmit on high frequency, which was harder to locate using direction-finding equipment. By energizing the rails, they had created a massive active antenna. Oculus had captured the mine to use as a massive radio relay station between their field team and their controllers. But where was the main body of the Oculus troops and the earthquake weapon?

  The former ISA spy turned his attention to the computer and began working the keypad. Interestingly, the computer’s operating system was set to English. Perhaps it was the common language that the multinational force communicated in. He could see that transmissions were going back and forth from the ASX mine as a relay station between the field team and the control team. Aghassi knew he had little hope of locating the controllers, as the signal would be rerouted dozens of times to protect their masters. The field team would not have that option, however.

  Looking through the relay program, Aghassi was able to determine where the rest of Oculus was, but the grids were not making any sense.

  “This can’t be.”

  And yet, it was.

  Turning back toward the entrance to the mine, Aghassi picked up a faster pace. He had to radio Nikita, who would in turn relay to Sirius Patrol, ultimately passing the information to Deckard. Something was seriously wrong.

  * * *

  “Deck,” Kurt Jager called across the cargo hold of the ekranoplan. “They need you up in the cockpit. Sirius Patrol has something from Aghassi.”

  Deckard jogged toward the front of the craft and climbed a ladder into the cockpit.

  “Just pick up that receiver,” the pilot said from his seat, already knowing what he was there for.

  “This is Six,” he said picking up the hand mic.

  “This is Sirius. Your men are on target. Stand by for a grid for the enemy location.”

  Deckard wrote down the numbers as they came in and referenced them on a map the pilot’s navigator had.

  “You’re sure?” he radioed back. “That’s in the middle of nowhere.”

  There was a long pause over the net.

  “That is the grid that was relayed to us.”

  “But it is in the middle of fucking nowhere. What the hell would Oculus be doing in the middle of Greenland?”

  Another long pause.

  These fuckers are holding out on me, Deckard thought.

  “Unknown at this time.”

  “Listen, your government instructed you to cooperate with us. Aghassi must have told you what the stakes are here.”

  “We are cooperating but….”

  “But?”

  “We need to clear it with higher.”

  “This is a state secret?”

  “I cannot comment further,” the Sirius Patrol leader said. “I apologize.”

  “Never mind. I’ll clear it up on my end. Out.”

  Deckard set the radio down and looked to the pilot. His gray mustache bounced in anticipation as he looked back at the mercenary, a paper cup filled with instant coffee in his hand.

  “Do you have a satellite phone? I need to call back to the States.”

  The pilot reached into a pouch on the back of his seat and tossed Deckard an Iridium phone.

  “Want to pass that grid to my navigator so we can get moving?”

  “Sure, but we can’t leave until I get confirmation.”

  Deckard slid down the ladder and walked by the dozens of mercenaries who were sleeping and cleaning their weapons. A few were playing cards on top of a rucksack. Powering up the phone, Deckard waited for the screen to activate as he stood on the ramp, the ekranoplan gently rolling with the surf. He dialed the number. SCOPE picked up on the third ring.

  “Hello?”

  “It’s me,” Deckard said as he looked across the water and scanned the barren terrain in front of him. “We need to talk.”

  * * *

  Jiahao strode into the radio room and stood behind one of the former Russian GRU operators who served as their commo tech. Sensing the presence of the Chinese commando, the Russian turned toward him.

  “Is the relay site operational?” Jiahao asked.

  “Up and running,” he replied, handing over a note.

  Jiahao took it from his hand but continued to stare straight through his commo man.

  “From control,” the Russian said uneasily.

  Looking at the note, he read it with a smile.

  “Perfect,” he said as he flicked open a butane lighter and held it to the piece of paper.

  Dropping the note as it finished burning, Jiahao left the radio room and walked down the icy corridors. The main drag was large enough to drive a tank through, or park a few dozen fighter jets if one was so inclined. Branching out from the corridor were other small tunnels that contained the various functions needed to keep the base operational: water, geothermal power, an armory, motor pool, chow hall, and even a club for recreation. As it stood, the compound was a ghost town, sitting empty and waiting for an Army Jiahao knew would never arrive.

  Rounding a corner and ducking through another doorway, he entered the geothermal energy station. The previous custodians, three Danes wh
o were now tied up in the corner of the room, had to drill deep to make geothermal energy possible in Greenland. It was to their benefit, as a large power source was exactly what he needed to make the device fully operational.

  Chinese, Iranian, and Russian commandos surrounded the metal box that they had expended so much energy transporting across the Arctic from Russia. Of course, their original plan had been to load it on a submarine and operationalize it elsewhere, but plans change.

  Deckard.

  The Assassin's Mace soldier cursed his name. The American interloper was fighting windmills, unable to accept the fact that his country was going into a steep decline. Other powers would now rise, with China supplanting America as a global superpower. In the end, all Deckard had accomplished was to delay the inevitable.

  “How much longer?” Jiahao demanded.

  One of the Persians looked apprehensive. “A few more hours. We have to calibrate the energy intake—”

  “You have an hour. We cannot delay any longer.”

  “Make it happen. I will not miss another opportunity. Control has authorized us to fire at will.”

  “We will get the weapon online.”

  “See that you do. And what about the fine-tuning of the standing waves?” he asked, turning to another Chinese member.

  “We are almost there. At this point it is a matter of ensuring that the energy does not get lost as it travels through the Earth’s core, or even worse, we overshoot and the energetics dissipate into the atmosphere.”

  “I want updates every ten minutes.”

  “Of course,” the technician said, getting back to work.

  Jiahao turned back to the corridor, searching for more of his men. They had their own work to do, preparing defenses and setting explosive charges at the entrances. At this stage of the game, he would leave nothing to chance.

  * * *

  The 60-some-odd mercenaries simultaneously rocked forward as the Ekranoplan set down, forcing them to desperately cling to any hard point before they somersaulted down the fuselage and did a faceplant on the ladder leading to the cockpit. Mann’s Ekranoplan had the added benefit of being able to land on both water and snow, pontoons mechanically transforming into skis as needed.