by Steve Richer
Carver recognized the sign of a terrible marksman. The shots were rushed, his men were safe. He saw them disappear around the corner. It was time and he turned toward his executive officer.
“Do it.”
The captain turned the key on his wireless detonator and then pressed the round button. Less than half a second later, the two trucks exploded into a huge fireball.
Secondary explosions were triggered as the gas tanks were breached and before long a massive, flaming hunk of metal was blocking the base’s primary entrance.
Chapter 68
Just inside the tree line beyond the presidential retreat, Hewitt looked at his own wireless detonator. The device was smaller than a garage door opener and fit comfortably in his hand. He turned the key and a red LED light was switched on.
Next to him, Preston was visibly nervous. The binoculars were trained on the house as he scanned the windows trying to get an inkling of what was going on inside.
“You know,” the Englishman began. “We can solve this situation right now, lad.”
He didn’t have to explain what he was talking about. The detonator in his left hand spoke volumes.
“She’s still in there.”
“I thought you weren’t into favors, that you only looked after yourself.”
“I like her, Nigel.”
Hewitt nodded. “I thought it was something like that.”
He turned the key again and the light became green. Safe.
“Something’s wrong,” Preston grunted. “I’m going in.”
He removed his binoculars, grabbed his M-4 carbine, and stood up. The four mercenaries emulated him. Hewitt knew there would be no arguing. He pocketed the detonator and drew his pistol.
“You know the odds are against us, don’t you, Preston? We don’t have sound suppressors, there’s no way to do this quietly.”
“Then we do it fast.”
He cocked his weapon, looked at his men, and at once they sprinted toward the house.
Under Embry’s improved security measures, the kitchen door was now locked. Still, it didn’t stand a chance against a hard kick. It flew open and Preston charged in.
He immediately headed left and found two soldiers snacking on M&Ms. He shot them both in the head.
Hewitt was right behind as the four mercenaries entered. They chose to go right. They unfortunately were not prepared for what was waiting for them. The two who were in front were killed at once.
“Cover the hallway,” Preston ordered.
As the two remaining mercenaries turned to comply, shots rang out in the narrow corridor. They were pinned down, there was no escaping in this direction.
Preston looked at the layout. There was another way through the dining room. He calculated the odds and turned toward Hewitt.
“Watch my back.”
The older man pressed himself against the wall and shot at nothing while Preston took off. The American ran past the long table, rounded the corner, and found the two soldiers who had his men pinned down.
They were flanked, it was a perfect maneuver. He aimed his submachine gun and emptied his clip into them.
He inserted a new magazine into his weapon while the mercenaries came down the corridor to join him. As soon as they emerged, he saw their faces blanch.
“No!”
Two Katogan soldiers appeared behind Preston and fired. The last two mercenaries fell down, dead.
Preston threw himself to the ground and at the same time turned toward the enemy. His carbine was barely aimed and he was already shooting. He riddled the two soldiers’ bodies with bullets.
“You okay, lad?” Hewitt asked as he joined Preston.
“Fine. Let’s go.”
The two of them followed a hallway, guns high and ready. Before long, they got to the library. Preston peeked inside, expecting to have his head blown away at any moment, but it was empty. All he saw was a reading room that had been decorated by a 70s era pimp.
They continued walking, went around a wall, and found themselves in the living room. At last, they had found Jasmine.
Embry was holding her by her hair and he had a pistol to her head. Traore was standing next to them. He was armed with a gold-plated Hi-Power Browning.
“Let her go, Embry!”
“You’re not in a position to negotiate, Mr. McSweeney. Drop your weapons and maybe we can find a peaceful solution.”
Right then, the remaining soldiers and bodyguards appeared behind Preston and Hewitt. The latter caught the movement from the corner of his eye and turned around.
“Preston!”
The mercenary instinctively rotated and dropped to his knees, ready to face this new threat. These men were nervous but eager to save the day, to become heroes. They squeezed off some rounds and a bullet punched Preston in the upper right arm.
“Ah!”
He was thrown back and this was what eventually saved his life. It threw off the Katogan security men. Preston pulled himself together, raised his carbine and shot all these men until they were dead.
What he wasn’t instantly aware of was that Embry and the dictator decided to get in on the action. They fired toward the intruders.
Hewitt’s eyes grew wide and his mouth opened.
He looked down and discovered his chest was covered with blood. Breathing became difficult, he knew he’d been shot. He knew his seconds were counted. He raised his arm, had enough energy for one last move.
As he fell down, he lifted his pistol, and squeezed the trigger. The shock was so unexpected that the dictator didn’t even have time to react. The bullet caught him in the throat.
Preston turned his attention back to the pressing situation. He looked to his left and found two corpses. Hewitt and Traore were dead.
“It’s over now,” Embry said. “Drop your weapon.”
Preston was angry, breathless, in pain, and a little confused. His eyes darted between Hewitt’s body and Jasmine’s terrified face. There was nothing he could do, not anymore. While still crouching, he let his M-4 fall to the ground.
“I want the pistol too.”
Making sure not to make any sudden moves, the young man drew his sidearm with two fingers and tossed it away.
“Good. Now if you try anything, the girl is dead. Do you understand, Mr. McSweeney?”
Yanking Jasmine by the hair, he walked backwards until they were positioned behind a big leather couch.
“I understand that you fucked up my career and my reputation,” Preston said. “You sure as hell won’t be fucking up the last thing I care about in this world.”
Embry wedged Jasmine between himself and the couch so that she couldn’t easily get away. He let go of the hair and quickly pulled out his cell phone. He hit one of the speed dial commands.
“I need assistance right now. What’s taking so long?” His brow furrowed as he heard the response. “What do you mean you’re pinned down?”
Preston almost smiled. There was at least one part of the plan that was going well. Actually, that wasn’t true. Hewitt had succeeded in taking out the tyrant.
From here on out, leaving this house alive would be a bonus.
Chapter 69
At the Army base, a battle was raging. Carver had sent in more exploding cars around the perimeter. The idea wasn’t to kill as many soldiers as possible but rather to confuse the enemy. So far it was working. The Katogans were still in disarray.
“We have movement,” the captain said.
Carver raised his binoculars. Beyond the burning wreck blocking the main gate he could see a BM-21 Grad multiple rocket launcher system. It was basically a deuce-and-a-half truck with a huge cigarette pack in the rear which could be raised to launch rockets.
It was bad news.
“Blue squad, on the double!”
Right on cue, two men came out of the bushes and ran forward until they had a good line of sight with the rocket launcher. The idea was to get as far away from the flames as possible to make sure the warhe
ad didn’t veer off course
It was awkward running with the 50-pound portable anti-tank missile but they had trained well.
Once it was properly aimed, the gunner depressed the trigger. The HEAT missile flew out. They dropped the empty tube and ran back for cover. They lunged forward instinctively when the projectile hit the target.
The Russian-made BM-21 went up in a series of blasts, thanks to the 40 rockets exploding one after the other.
Carver allowed himself to smile. If a loud siren had made them run amok before, this would definitely make them shit bricks!
Abruptly, his expression darkened. Through his binoculars he saw the soldiers were beginning to understand the nature of the assault.
He spotted a three man team gearing up for a mortar attack. While this was definitely more low-tech, they would have mobility which could spell disaster for them.
“Mortars! Move in on their position, fire and maneuver. I want Red Leader to flank them on the south, rear guard. Let’s go!”
It was time for a real assault, the type of attack they would likely not survive. But that was what he was paid for. He stood up, nodded to his men, and charged forward.
~ ~ ~ ~
Embry tossed his phone away and it landed on the couch. Preston glimpsed his frustration and that meant he was distracted.
He used the opportunity to stretch toward Hewitt. He discreetly felt his pockets until he found the wireless detonator. He swiftly retrieved it and put it in a side pocket of his fatigues.
“You know, there’s nothing else for you to do now. Your dictator is dead, there’s no more protection for you.”
“Wyatt is still very much alive,” Embry gloated. “You’d be surprised how well money can get you out of situations like these.”
“You really think he’ll help you? You couldn’t protect his investment, why should he reward you now?”
The comment struck a nerve and the old man looked at Preston with both fury and contempt. Before he could do anything about it, a loud diesel engine could be heard outside the window. He instinctively craned his neck to look outside.
Jasmine saw an opportunity. Without wasting a fraction of a second, she elbowed Embry in the chest to try and get away.
Preston sprung forward, using the couch as a stepping stone, and leaped on Embry. Pain shot up his arm as he made contact with the man though he didn’t let it hinder his assault. All that was on his mind was to kill the man who had destroyed his career.
His life.
Embry lost his pistol as they both fell to the ground. He parried a blow, and another, finally countering with a knee to his enemy’s stomach.
Preston had anticipated this and had tightened his abdominal muscles. It still hurt but the wind wasn’t knocked out of him. He punched the man in the face, got one in return. Blood pooled in his mouth.
“Shit!”
Hurriedly, Jasmine rounded the couch and grabbed the gold-plated gun. She aimed it but the two men were clustered together; they were both standing now as they boxed. There was simply no way she could shoot Embry without hitting her friend.
Embry managed to grip the other man by the throat and pin him against the wall. That’s it, a little longer. He would choke him to death. But the kid was young, vigorous. He was thrashing hard, doing his best to evade him.
Jasmine tried to get a bead on the bad guy once again. She moved around the couch. As much as she could get a clear shot this time she was afraid the caliber of this weapon was simply too strong. She was liable to kill Preston at the same time.
Embry took a chance and let one of his hands travel from his throat to his injured shoulder. He drilled his fingers into the wound, hoping that he would stop struggling.
“Aaaaaah!” Preston screamed, beginning to wish for a quick death.
Chapter 70
The pain was so intense that it sapped all his energy. His knees buckled which made him escape the older man’s grasp. This was a blessing in disguise. He could breathe again.
As to not lose momentum, Preston hit him directly below the kneecap. The man started to fall and Preston stopped him with a punch to the abdomen.
Regaining his footing, he straightened up. Preston hit him again in the chest and then in the face.
Embry was biding his time and rolled with the punches. He was waiting for the death blow. McSweeney was bound to finish him off with a haymaker. That meant that he’d have to back away to build up his swing. That’s when he would strike back.
Footsteps were heard inside the house and within seconds Colonel Chikaba appeared in the living room. He came face-to-face with Jasmine and she had to restrain herself from shooting him from sheer fright.
“Come on, we must leave.”
The subtext was unambiguous. Reinforcements were bound to arrive at any given moment. He was right, they had to get away from this place.
She turned away from the former secret police commander and pointed her gun once again at Embry.
“Preston,” she called. “Separate!”
He didn’t question her. He shoved Embry one last time against the wall and backed away.
Jasmine squeezed the trigger twice and hit the older man in the chest. He was thrown back and slid down the wall.
“Let’s go!”
She rushed forward and grabbed Preston to support him. With Chikaba urging him on, they walked toward the exit.
But Embry wasn’t dead. He rarely went anywhere without a bulletproof vest during an operation. He was tired and winded but he still had enough energy to reach for the discarded M-4.
Preston saw movement reflected in the window. It could only mean one thing...
“Down!”
He dove out of the way, taking Jasmine with him. They missed the incoming bullets by millimeters. Chikaba grabbed Jasmine’s hand and pulled her toward him.
“We must leave!”
Preston wasn’t armed. There was no way he could retaliate. With all the strength he could muster, he jumped back on his feet and ran after Jasmine and Chikaba.
More bullets came flying by his head but the three of them made it out of the house alive.
At first, Preston was wobbling. The bullet, the fight, they had taken a lot out of him. But now he was flat out running and catching up to Jasmine and Colonel Chikaba. The three of them headed for the pickup truck.
Before they could reach it, one of the large living room window panes was shattered. Embry dragged his aching body to the gaping hole, raised the carbine, and fired at the escapees.
Bullets dotted the pickup truck. Chikaba pushed Jasmine into the cab and climbed in after her. There was no room for Preston and he knew it.
He leaped into the back and stayed down, flat on the rusty bed to avoid getting shot.
The truck was old and noisy but Chikaba had selected because it was trustworthy. He floored the gas pedal and the vehicle zipped down the driveway.
“Son of a bitch,” Preston exclaimed as a round ricocheted around him.
He reached into his pocket and produced the wireless detonator. The light was green which meant it was still working. He turned the key until the light became red. The house being more than 100 yards behind them, he pushed the button.
The presidential mountain retreat went up in a ball of flames!
The entire structure collapsed on itself and a rim of superheated air burned everything in a hundred-foot radius. Heat reached all the way over to the pickup truck but they were too far already to be in danger of being hit by debris.
Preston sat up to watch his handiwork. He felt bad about leaving Hewitt’s body inside but was comforted in the knowledge that Burt Embry was unequivocally dead.
~ ~ ~ ~
The battle was over at the military compound.
The mercenaries were within the perimeter and had seized the tanks. Machine gun nests had been set up on top of barracks which had allowed Carver and his men to overcome the Katogan garrison. It helped that there had only been about a thousand men st
ationed here tonight.
While the machine guns were still manned, Carver and the mercenaries patrolled the base. The soldiers had dropped their weapons, no one was shooting. There had been no more than a dozen killed, two of which were mercenaries.
The place was secure now.
Carver approached General Tombo who was disheveled and had his hands in the air. He stopped in front of him and motioned for him to put his arms down.
“It’s over, General. President Arly Traore is dead. But if you keep your soldiers in line, you can remain in charge of the Armed Forces. Is that something you can live with?”
Tombo was a career military man but more than that he was a proud citizen of Katoga. There had been too much bloodshed already, too much chaos in a country that deserved better. After a brief moment of hesitation, he offered the American his hand to shake.
Chapter 71
The Katoga airport was back to being under heavy military control. Both mercenaries and army personnel were on the tarmac to keep things secure. At the end of the runway was a Gulfstream private jet. The engines were gearing up.
Preston, his arm bandaged and throbbing despite the prescribed painkillers, stood in front of Gervasi at the bottom of the stairs.
“I’m not funding this aircraft, am I? Because I’m broke.”
Gervasi grinned at that. “Agency’s footing the bill. Now that the country is in good hands, CIA isn’t so silent anymore. Go figure.”
“Does that mean the US government will provide help for Katoga?”
“I don’t know, probably. Anyway, I wanted to say congratulations. We won’t forget it.”
Jasmine approached from the right with her luggage. Preston’s eyes shifted to her and she stared back.
“It was my pleasure,” Preston told Gervasi, actually meaning it.
They shook hands and the CIA officer came closer.
