Scorpion Strike

by John Gilstrap

Jonathan explained, “His stepdad owns this place.”

  “That so.” Boxers’ voice dropped an octave.

  “He says he doesn’t know anything about the dark side of the enterprise and I believe him.” Jonathan knew that Big Guy would catch the personal endorsement as a cue not to pursue it further. “Let’s meet the rest of the team.”

  Jonathan recognized everyone, but Gail needed to be introduced to Conan and Chief. Tyler needed to be introduced to everyone.

  While Team Yankee divested themselves of their dry suits and straightened out their clothes, Jonathan led the effort to unpack the bags. He had to chuckle. If explosives were like cupcakes, then Boxers packed like a twelve-year-old heading off to camp. They’d brought grenades, a couple of claymore mines, a shitload of GPCs, and detonators for everything.

  The gun bag contained a bunch of suppressed M27s—a Marine Corps modification of the Heckler & Koch Model 416 (which itself was an improvement on the M4)—and a couple of suppressed H&K 417s chambered in 7.62 millimeter, Boxers’ favorite choice in rifles.

  “Just eyeballing, I’m guessing a thousand rounds?” Jonathan said.

  “Fourteen hundred,” Boxers corrected. “But a thousand are for the five-five-sixes.”

  “We’ve got another four hundred to add to the five-five-six pile,” Jonathan said.

  “Well, shit,” Conan said. “We won’t even have to aim.”

  In seven minutes, they were ready to roll. When Jonathan slipped the night vision over his eyes and fired them up, it felt like he had come home. Honest to God, sometimes he wondered if he didn’t prefer the comfortable green glow from the NVGs over the romance of starlight.

  He was grateful to change out of the bloodstained chest rig he’d taken from the dead terrorist and slip into the plate carrier he was more accustomed to. This one even had plates installed, which surprised him because Boxers was not a big fan of them.

  That’s when Jonathan remembered that in Boxers’ mind, his status had changed. Big Guy saw him and Gail less as team members than as precious cargo. And you always provided optimum protection for the PCs.

  When his gear was in place and his rifle was slung, he found the coms gear and wired himself up.

  “Hey, Boss,” Boxers said. “Check a little deeper into the ammo sack. Go to the outside pocket. There’s a present for you.”

  It was Jonathan’s go-to sidearm, a heavily modified Colt 1911 in. 45. It was as close to a kiss on the lips as Boxers could give.

  “Ah, you like me,” Jonathan said. “You really like me.” He strapped on the pistol’s thigh rig, and he felt soldierly again.

  Team Yankee had brought a set of everything for both Gail and Tyler. Gunslinger knew her way around the gear blindfolded, but the kid needed some help. “Jesus, this thing is heavy,” Tyler said as Jonathan settled the plate carrier on his shoulders.

  “Nah,” Jonathan said. “It won’t be heavy for another couple of hours.”

  “Then it’ll be really friggin’ heavy,” Madman said. They shared a chuckle.

  The last thing for Tyler was the NVGs array, and Jonathan took a minute or two to explain their operation. There actually wasn’t a lot to it, once you got the four-tube array balanced on your head. “It’ll take a few minutes to feel normal,” he explained, “but just keep them in place and your brain will adjust.”

  Tyler stood still as Jonathan adjusted the eyepieces. “A couple of things to keep in mind,” Jonathan said. “First, these things cost about sixty thousand dollars apiece, so I’d appreciate it if you’d take care of them.”

  “Holy shit.”

  “And second, remember that when we kill the generator, it’s going to be blacker than black. Keep the lenses as close to your eyes as you can, to limit the amount of light that leaks out. I’ll try to keep an eye out for you to remind you, but still.”

  Tyler grinned as he pivoted in a circle, taking in his surroundings. “Wow, you really can see everything, can’t you?”

  “Hey, Big Guy,” said Chief. “Let’s give my boy a call. He’s gonna get worried soon.”

  “So, Scorpion,” Big Guy said. “You want command?”

  It felt like the natural order of things, but . . . “I don’t want to step on your toes.”

  “This isn’t friggin’ high school,” Boxers scoffed. “You might as well take command, because you’re gonna tell people what to do sooner or later, anyway.”

  “Okay,” Jonathan announced, “I’m taking command. Chief, what channel is your boy on? He’s Torpedo, right?”

  Davey answered, “Yeah, Torpedo. He’s expecting to hear from us on Channel Two.”

  “Copy Channel Two,” Jonathan said. “Our tac channel will be three, Mother Hen will be Channel One. PTT only, please, unless I say otherwise.” PTT meant push to talk, as opposed to VOX, which would broadcast everybody live.

  Jonathan dropped to Channel Two. “Torpedo, Torpedo, Torpedo, this is Scorpion. The team is in place and safe. Acknowledge.”

  “Oh, yeah, I acknowledge,” Jesse said over the radio. Jonathan recognized both the voice and the stress in it. “Where the hell have you guys been?”

  Davey’s voice said, “Ease up, son. This is Chief. What’s going on?”

  “There’s a big ship on the way in toward you—”

  Jonathan could see the lights in the distance. It was still far enough away that it wouldn’t cause a problem.

  “—and it came really close to me. They saw the boat. They lit it up with a searchlight, but I don’t think they saw me.”

  “I copy,” Jonathan said. “Be advised that Scorpion is in command now. I don’t know what your orders are yet, but stay close to the radio in case we need you.”

  “Got it,” Jesse said. “Good luck to all of you.”

  The words made Jonathan cringe. He refused to admit that luck played more than a passing role in hot operations. Success and failure hinged on skill and marksmanship alone. “Thank you,” he said over the radio. “Now stay off the air unless there’s an emergency, in which case you go to Mother Hen over on Channel One. Scorpion out.”

  He switched over to Channel One. “Good evening, Mother Hen,” he said, knowing that she’d likely been plugged into the net for a couple of hours.

  “Now, there’s a nice voice to hear,” Venice said. “Gunslinger, are you there, too?”

  “I am,” Gail said. “Along with all of Team Yankee. Any new developments we need to know about?”

  “Negative,” Venice said. “But let me know when you want the lights turned off.”

  “That’ll be about thirty minutes from now,” Jonathan said. “But wait for the order.”

  “I understand,” Venice said. “Shoot straight, everybody.”

  Jonathan turned back to the team. Everyone was kitted up and ready to go.

  “Hello, She Devil,” Jonathan said. “You’re kind of quiet.”

  “I’m very quiet,” Jolaine said. “I’m getting into my Zen killing place.”

  Given her past, Jonathan couldn’t swear that she was kidding. He could hope, but he couldn’t swear. He noted that she alone among the group had affixed an M203 forty-millimeter grenade launcher to her rifle.

  “We need to get off this beach,” Madman said. “We look like a bunch of ants in the sugar bowl.”

  Jonathan laughed at the imagery. It was especially true given the prehistoric-insect look of the NVGs.

  “Shouldn’t we get briefed on the plan?” Dylan asked.

  “We’ll do that at the top of the hill,” Jonathan said. “Everybody ruck up and we’ll move.”

  In addition to their plate carriers and ammo vests, each of the operators split up the supplemental gear—explosives, medical gear, extra batteries, and such—into surplus Army rucksacks and hung them on their backs. That still left a lot of spare explosives, food, and medical gear staged at the infil/exfil site as a hedge against the possibility of the operation taking longer than planned.

  “Gotta carry your load if you want to pla
y,” Jonathan said to Tyler.

  “Does the kid know the round end from the flat end of his bang stick?” Boxers asked loudly enough to get a laugh from everyone but Tyler.

  “I’ve had extensive training on the safety switch,” Tyler said without dropping a beat.

  “Can’t ask for more than that,” Boxers said. Jonathan knew that if Big Guy could run the world, every one of its residents would receive a week of training in firearms safety and marksmanship as a requirement to attend first grade. He didn’t like it when Jonathan armed the newbies.

  It was one of the reasons why Jonathan so rarely asked for a show of hands on any decision.

  When they were ready to rock, Jonathan said, “Okay, Tyler. You know this island better than anyone. Lead us back to the overlook.”

  “Me? Okay.” He pivoted and headed back toward the path they’d just traveled down from the top.

  Jonathan let the others follow in line before he and Gail fell in with Boxers in the rear.

  “It’s great to see you again, Box,” Jonathan said. “It’s nice to be able to bring the fight back to these assholes.”

  “So, how bad is it?” Big Guy asked.

  “These bad guys are bad guys,” Jonathan said.

  Gail talked about the bodies that had been draped at the pool entrance.

  “We’ll make quick work of that shit,” Boxers said. “How many hostages we working with?”

  “A lot,” Jonathan said. “I don’t want to go through it all twice, so we’ll share info when we get to the top of the hill.”

  “How’s Jolaine?” Gail asked.

  “Still crazier than a shithouse rat,” Boxers said. “But you gotta like that Zen of killing line. I might have to steal that one.”

  * * *

  At the top of the path, Jonathan laid out the tactical plan. “We secure the kids first,” he said. “Then the adults.”

  He spread out the tourist map and hit it with the beam of his infrared flashlight. “I know this isn’t much of a map, and it’s a lot of scribbling, but it’s the only map we’ve got. We’re here.” He pointed to a spot on the northwest arc of the island. “This is the resort down here. From what I can tell, the children are being held here, in Bungalow Seven. The adults are here in the area of the swimming pool—”

  “The groups are too close for separate ops, Boss,” Boxers interrupted. “That’s only, what? A hundred yards separating the two groups? Somebody hears a single scream or a single gunshot from the kids’ house, and they’re gonna start shooting up the swimming pool. We’ve got to hit both at the same time.”

  “We don’t have the manpower for that,” Gail said.

  “I agree,” Jonathan said.

  “We’ve got all the manpower we’re gonna have,” Boxers pressed. “If we had fifty operators and we screwed up the timing, a lot of good guys would die.”

  “And let’s not forget about that shit they’re bringing in on the ships,” Rollins said.

  “That’s not our problem, Madman,” Jonathan said.

  “The hell it’s not. What’s the point of saving a bunch of rich tourists and then letting a bunch of peasants somewhere choke to death on VX?”

  “We’ve got to avoid mission creep,” Jonathan said. “VX is not the precious cargo.”

  “Neither are the tourists,” Boxers said. “You and Gunslinger are the PCs. This mission has already creeped.”

  “You know what I mean,” Jonathan said.

  “I don’t think I do,” Jolaine said. “Are we here to save lives, or aren’t we?”

  Dylan said, “VX is really, really nasty shit, Scorpion.”

  Jonathan looked to Gail for an ally, but she said, “I’m with them on this one.”

  “Okay,” Jonathan said. “What’s the mission with the VX? What does victory look like?”

  “The bad guys don’t get it,” Rollins said. “Can’t get less complicated than that.”

  “You know this is an Agency operation we’ll be getting in the middle of, right?” As Jonathan spoke the words, he realized they’d been a mistake.

  “Since when have you been worried about getting between Secret Squirrel and his nuts?” Boxers said.

  Jonathan chuckled at the imagery.

  Rollins said, “When the lights go out, there’ll be those first moments of panic on their part. With our NVGs, we’ll have absolute supremacy for ten or fifteen seconds. Most of the bad guys will be dead before they know they’re in danger.”

  Jonathan knew that he’d lost his argument. “So, we’ll have three simultaneous assaults going on,” he said.

  “Better than a running gunfight,” Boxers said. “Bang, bang, get it over with fast.”

  “It also pushes back our timeline,” Jonathan said. “We need for the ship to settle into place before we can do anything.” He looked to Davey. “Chief, how long does it take to get a cargo vessel ready to be off-loaded?”

  “Once she’s berthed and tied off, they can start right away.”

  “You’re not going to shoot the resort workers who are moving the stuff, are you?” Tyler looked horrified as he asked the question.

  “Of course not,” Rollins said.

  “Then who are you going to shoot?”

  “These guys are terrorists,” Gail said. “And the shipment is an illegal load of chemical weapons.”

  “That they intend to steal,” Jonathan added.

  “Exactly. That they intend to steal. There’s no way that invasion force is going to trust them. They’re going to have to assign someone to watch what they’re doing.”

  An upbeat thought occurred to Jonathan as Gail was speaking. “And for every soldier who’s down at the dock, that’s one who’s not guarding the hostages,” he said. Just like that, he found himself in favor of the third front. “We’re not the only ones who will have to split our forces.”

  There was a general rumble of consensus. They were going to do this.

  “Now, there’s the matter of teams,” Jonathan said. “Madman, you’ve got the jones for VX, so you’re on that, along with Conan and She Devil. We good with that?”

  Nods and thumbs-up.

  “Good. That will make you Yankee One. Slinger, you take charge of the kids, okay?”

  “Okay,” she said. “Tyler, I want you with me.”

  The kid didn’t argue.

  “Dylan,” Jonathan said, “you make up the third member of the nursery team, Yankee Two. That leaves Big Guy and the chief with me at the pool and we’ll be Yankee Three.” He paused for a few beats to allow for questions.

  “Where are we taking everybody?” Tyler asked.

  “In a broad sense, we’re not taking anyone anywhere,” Jonathan said. “We want to neutralize the bad guys and go home. The faster, the better.”

  “What about the dead and wounded?” Dylan asked.

  “To hell with the bad guys,” Jonathan said. “And, hopefully, there won’t be any casualties among the good guys.”

  “Not likely,” Henry said.

  “Probably,” Jonathan conceded. “We’ll do the best we can for wounded good guys, but our priority really needs to be to neutralize and leave.”

  “Shoot and scoot,” Boxers said. He looked proud of himself.

  “There’s an infirmary on the resort,” Tyler said. “The medical people are probably among the hostages. Where else could they be?”

  “Tyler, listen carefully,” Jonathan said. “The children are your responsibility. Gunslinger and Dylan will handle the bad guys, but once they’re down, you’ve got to keep the kids contained. Once the shooting is done, I’m going to need them as reinforcements up at the pool and the Plantation House.”

  “How am I supposed to contain them? They’ll have just seen a bunch of people get shot. There’ll be blood everywhere. They’re gonna go nuts.”

  “Not if you stay calm,” Gail said.

  “Calm! How the hell am I supposed to stay calm?”

  “Because it’s your friggin’ job,” Boxers said.
“Because they’re kids and you’re not, and if you don’t do your job, they’re likely to wander off and get hurt. And that will be on you.”

  Big Guy’s words seemed to take the oxygen out of the air. Everyone looked at Tyler, and Tyler looked at the ground.

  “Oh, don’t look so butt-hurt,” Boxers said. “The truth is the truth.”

  Jonathan held up a hand. There were days when Big Guy could be less than calming. “Sometimes the dealer slings bad cards, Ty,” Jonathan said, deliberately using the familiar form of his name. “Don’t ever take offense at direct communication. The kids are going to want to scatter. Some will hunker down and freeze, but others will run like frightened deer. You need to keep them from wandering off.”

  Tyler thought for a few seconds. “I can get them into the utility tunnel,” he said. “We’ll make it a game.”

  “I like that idea,” Gail said. “That will put them out of harm’s way.”

  “What about the darkness?” Tyler thought aloud. “Kids are afraid of the dark.”

  “Oh, hell,” Jonathan said, “Big Guy’s afraid of the dark. Isn’t that right, Big Guy?”

  Boxers grumbled, “You know I could have just stayed home, right?” As he spoke, he dug into one of the pockets of his ruck and produced a handful of thin foil packets. “These are glow sticks,” he said. “Do you know how to use them?”

  “Break ’em and shake ’em,” Tyler said.

  “Yup. Stuff some of these in your pockets. They won’t give you a lot of light, but they’ll take the edge off the darkness.”

  Tyler accepted the packages and shoved them into pants pocket. “They’ll give the kids a cool toy to play with, too.”

  CHAPTER 32

  AS BAKER SINISE APPROACHED THE DOCK, HE NOTICED FOR THE FIRST time that the secondary cargo pier was already occupied by what appeared to be a World War II–era warship, minus any guns. “What the hell is that?” he asked Alpha, who led a team of three other soldiers to serve as the staff’s security detail.

  “Nothing you need to concern yourself with,” Alpha said.

  Of course, it could only be one thing: the vessel that would transfer the stolen weapons to wherever these terrorists were taking them. “How will I explain it to the crew of the Katie Starling? These are people who do not like surprises.”