by Mack Maloney
“It’s strange,” Hunter said, looking at the transcripts. “Lucifer is not much of a military leader. He made mistakes during The Circle War. Letting his troops move out in the open, not sending critical messages in code. Things like that. They gave us the breaks we needed to defeat him.”
“As we figured before,” Sir Neil said, “he’s more of a cult leader than a battlefield general. Sending messages like these, uncoded—I take it as an act of arrogance. I’m sure he knows what we are up to, although he probably doesn’t know where we are or what our exact plans may be. And I’m sure he also is aware of what The Modern Knights are doing—his spies are everywhere, after all.”
“So what he’s doing is underestimating us,” Hunter said, hoping at the same time that the Saratoga’s small force actually had something to be underestimated about.
“Let’s hope so,” Sir Neil said with a wink. “One thing is for sure, Lucifer will be moving his troops within a few weeks. Once they are aboard those ships and sailing, nothing will stop them. That’s why it’s imperative that we beat him to the Suez. And that we have enough weapons to fight them with when we get there.”
Hunter and Giuseppe nodded. The race for the canal was on …
The two friends of Emma, Chloe and Claudia, reached the outskirts of Cagliari and began taking off their clothes. Below them, down the road about a quarter-mile away, they could see the city streets were lit up and decorated with banners, streamers, and thousands of multicolored balloons. It reminded Chloe of the Mardi Gras she had once attended in Rio.
Quickly both women discarded their overalls and donned a toga-like garment that they had sewn together from bedsheets. They wore sandal-like shoes on their feet. Each woman was also carrying a small derringer-like gun, loaded with three bullets, to be used only in emergency.
They both checked their garments. After judging them to be authentic enough, they embraced, kissed each other’s cheek for luck, then began to walk into the city.
It wasn’t long before they saw just what kind of celebration The Day of Kings was meant to be. They came upon a roadblock, manned by six men carrying M-16 rifles. But the sentries didn’t even bother to give Chloe and Claudia a second look. They were too busy having sex with six women they had conveniently tied down on tables inside the guardpost building.
Chloe and Claudia moved on, occasionally passing similar scenes along the way—soldiers having their way with young girls and women, some of whom were actually enjoying it.
But these isolated instances were nothing compared to what the two call girls saw inside the city itself.
“My God,” Claudia said after walking through the unguarded city gates. “It looks like—”
“Sodom and Gomorrah,” Chloe finished for her.
It was true. The city was in the throes of a lust frenzy. Everywhere—on street corners, in open houses, in small parks that lined the roads—there were people committing sexual acts on each other. Even two people as worldly as Chloe and Claudia couldn’t believe the extent and the intensity of the orgy-like goings-on.
They saw men screwing one, two, three women at once. Women making love to other women. Two men on one woman. The variations went on and on. Age didn’t seem to matter—and the wine was flowing as if from an endless supply.
They neared the center of town, trying to take everything in. An arena of some kind had been set up and bleacher-style seats erected around it. They wandered up to the side of one of the seating galleries and peered inside. It was like a gladiator’s ring, but with one important difference. There were sexual games going on in the arena. At that moment, one man, armed with a net and a length of rope, was attempting to lasso one of five screaming young girls who had been placed in the ring with him. As Chloe and Claudia watched, the man finally netted one of the girls and instantly tied her up like a calf caught in a rodeo.
The victim, just a teenager, was pleading with the man to let her go. But her captor only laughed. Each scream resulted in a great cheer from the crowd. More cheers erupted when the man ripped off his clothes and entered her, jamming her violently. The man was quickly spent. He stood up, raised his hands to the crowd for one last cheer, then slowly walked out of the arena. As soon as this happened, another man was let in to chase one of the four remaining girls.
Chloe and Claudia knew they had to move on. They walked around the side of the arena and toward the center of town. Here they saw the grandiose Roman-style structures the Holy Sardinians had built for themselves. Huge, pillar-supported affairs, all of white gleaming marble. In these buildings, and even on the buildings’ steps, they could hear and see people having sex. Occasionally they would come upon a still body—maybe dead, maybe just unconscious. But they never stopped to find out.
They were almost to the far edge of the town when the mob met them. There were about seventy men, walking toward the main celebration in the center of the city. They caught Chloe and Claudia unaware. The leader of the gang was a tall, burly, animal-like man wearing a long beard, a loin cloth, and nothing else.
“Ah, more pussy to join our party!” he said, grabbing Claudia. He instantly began stripping off her toga and fondling her breasts. Chloe was next. She was thrown into the crowd of men. Her clothes were also ripped off. Both women were then passed from man to man, each one fondling or sucking their breasts, or jamming their fingers into their privates. As soon as each man had had his due, he would rejoin the mob that was moving toward the center of the town.
Chloe felt as if she were in a dream. So many hands were on her at once, her senses were reeling. Most men tried to use their hands to penetrate every orifice, while some were trying to force her to her knees to perform oral sex on them. She was bouncing from man to man, and could see Claudia doing the same thing out of the corner of her eye.
It was absolute insanity. She wanted to cry, but at the same time she wanted to laugh. She was repulsed by the crude men, yet excited by the multitude of hands swarming all over her body. She felt as if something were going to explode inside her. Her head felt light, her eyes started to close, she gasped once, twice, then nearly fainted.
Then it was over. She and Claudia had passed through the crowd of men and now the crowd was gone. The women looked at each other in amazement for a few moments. They had never thought to use their small guns.
They quickly gathered up their clothes, what remained of them, and hurried out of town.
“Chloe!”
The young woman instantly recognized the voice as Hunter’s. She and Claudia had walked the mile and half from the city of Cagliari to the abandoned US air base and ammo depot. Now she knew that Hunter and a strike force from the Saratoga were hiding nearby, ready for the second phase of their operation to begin.
Hunter emerged from a large, long hedgerow and quickly embraced her. Chloe was Emma’s best friend, so Hunter felt a special attachment to her.
“Are you okay?” he asked with some anxiety in his voice. Her mission with Claudia to reconnoiter the strange Sardinian town had been extremely dangerous, but critical to the operation.
Hunter was relieved to see she had made it in one piece. In fact, he couldn’t help but notice the slightly blissful look she had about her.
“There are no soldiers that we could see in the city,” she reported as Hunter led her to the side of the dusty road near the base. “No SAMs either. It appears that anyone who is able to have sex is having it—plenty of it—in that city tonight.”
It was just what Hunter wanted to hear.
Earlier in the evening, a strike force made up mostly of Australian Special Forces troops and Spanish rocket teams had helicoptered into a remote part of the island from six Norwegian frigates offshore. Hunter was the strike force leader, while Sir Neil, itching for a bit of action, had come along as the overall commander. With the twenty-five tough Aussie troops at his disposal, Hunter hoped to locate and airlift out as many Sidewinders and other weapons that he could find in the Sardinians’ ammo bunkers. Sir Neil, along
with a half-dozen Spanish rocketeers, would guard the strike force’s rear from any threat, whether it be on the ground or in the air.
Hunter knew that the mission had to be done quickly. While the two women provided a diversion for any guards at the base, he and the Aussies would sweep into the weapons bunkers, locate what they needed, then radio back a special code to the six helicopters waiting nearby. The choppers were already outfitted with cargo nets. The strike force would have to drag out as many cases of weapons as they could and load them onto the chopper nets. If things went very well, Hunter thought they might be able to load up four of the six choppers. Of course, he knew there would always be unpredictable elements to contend with.
The strike force, wearing black coveralls and old Marine guard helmets they had found on the carrier, advanced cautiously up the narrow road to the front gate of the weapons-storage site. A small guardhouse stood next to the entrance, a single light burning in its window. Off in the distance, the lusty revelers back in Cagliari had begun setting off fireworks, unintentionally adding to the strike force’s cover.
Hunter motioned for the Aussies to take cover on either side of the road, then called Chloe and Claudia to the front of the column. They quickly went over their prearranged plan. Then, checking their small guns once again, the two women headed for the guardhouse.
The five soldiers inside the guardhouse were surprised when they answered the knock on their door and found Chloe and Claudia standing there. Both women had expertly made themselves look disheveled. Claudia’s toga was nearly completely torn off, and both of Chloe’s breasts were exposed. Both women were wearing their best professional smiles, which, when mixed with the smell of the alcohol, made for a powerful combination.
“Parlez-vous francais?” Chloe asked the burly man who answered the door.
“Oui, madam,” the soldier answered, a strange look coming across his face.
“Your comrades in town sent us to you,” Claudia said, snuggling up against the man. “They felt bad that you were up here missing out on all the festivities.”
“Our comrades sent you?” another of the soldiers asked, getting up from the card game the men had been playing.
While Claudia was talking to the men, Chloe was taking in the equipment the soldiers had in the guardhouse. Several rifles were leaning in the corner. An elaborate radio set was off to one side. A large pane-less window opening dominated the rear of the house, allowing a clear view of the city a mile and a half away.
“Can we come in and join you?” Chloe asked.
Hidden in the bushes twenty feet away, Hunter and Sir Neil watched the two women go into the guardhouse, the door closing behind them. Hunter turned to the leader of the Aussie troopers and gave him the thumbs-up sign.
“Go to it, Hunter,” Sir Neil said, patting him on the back. “We got your asses covered.”
With that, Hunter and the Aussie force slipped passed the guardhouse and down into the depression that contained a large underground weapons-storage bunker and several smaller ones.
Staying in the shadows and moving silently, Hunter and the troopers inched their way toward the bunkers. Once he was sure that there were no guards patrolling the inside of the facility, he gave the Aussie leader a prearranged signal. Meanwhile, off in the distance, the Sardinians were continuing their fireworks display.
The strike force began splitting up. A dozen men took up positions around the facility’s perimeter. The remaining soldiers divided into two-man teams, each headed for a small bunker. Their task was to force open the door, get inside, quickly determine what weapons were on hand for the taking, and then report back to their group leader. Hunter and two Aussies, meanwhile, would head for the main storage building that dominated the facility. He was certain that the Sardinians kept most of their Sidewinders there.
That’s when the strange feeling came over Hunter. Something wasn’t right. He could feel it. Reaching the large housing, he quickly picked the simple lock and, together with the help of the Aussies, pried the huge iron door open. Clicking his flashlight on, Hunter and the two troopers entered the bunker.
Hunter took one look and swore, “Christ!” he whispered angrily. “After all this … ”
“Well I’ll be damned,” one of the Aussie soldiers said.
The bunker was empty …
Hunter ran outside and found the Aussie group leader coming towards him.
“Turning up negative all around, major,” the Aussie leader, a man named Dundee, told him. “None of my guys have found a bloody thing.”
“Nothing here,” Hunter said, bitterness in his voice. He was mad at himself. While this certainly wasn’t the only weapons-storage site on the island, it was the one furthest from the city, and therefore, in Hunter’s mind, the easiest target. But undertaking the dangerous operation for nothing was not good military planning.
So the Sardinians were smarter than he thought. For some reason they had moved all the weapons out of the storage facility, apparently some time ago.
Quickly and quietly, the Aussies began moving their way back toward the guardhouse. Hunter was hoping that Chloe and Claudia had already been able to knock out the guards. They would have to get the girls out and make their way back to the choppers waiting two miles away.
But now he felt a second strange feeling come over him. The fireworks in the town had stopped. For the first time since they had landed on the island, there was complete silence all around them.
Hunter knew that meant trouble.
They reached the guardhouse. While Dundee went on to tell Sir Neil of the empty bunkers, Hunter and two Aussies went to retrieve Chloe and Claudia.
Hunter cautiously approached the guardhouse, only to see his worst fears had come true. The guards had not been knocked out; he could plainly see two of them walking around the sentry post. What was worse, they were carrying rifles with them.
Something had gone wrong and now Hunter knew there would have to be gunplay.
He crept up to the side of the house and peered inside. For some reason the guards hadn’t gone for the girls’ ruse. Chloe and Claudia were tied up back to back on two chairs, while the soldiers paced around them anxiously. It could only mean one thing: they had reported the girls’ presence to their superiors in the town. Hunter was sure someone was coming to investigate.
Two more Aussies joined Hunter and the others around the house and, on the count of three, they burst in. Hunter himself came through the open window, his M-16 blazing. Two more Aussies kicked in the door and sprayed the interior of the shack with bullets, while two other troopers dove towards the girls, knocking them down and covering them with their bodies.
It was over in a matter of seconds. All of the guards were dead. But it had been noisy. Too noisy.
“What happened?” Hunter asked Chloe.
“The soldiers knew that their comrades didn’t send us,” she answered in a slightly frightened voice. “They told us they had no use for women.”
“No use for women?” Hunter said. “You mean they were—”
“Eunuchs,” Claudia said. “Apparently most of the lowly guards here are.”
“Well I’ll be damned,” Hunter said. “Just like in the old days … ”
Suddenly a shot rang out, followed by the sound of an explosion. Hunter, the Aussies, and the girls were out of the guardhouse in a second, making their way down the road to the main group. Sir Neil and Dundee were there to meet them.
“We’re going to have company very soon,” Sir Neil said, pointing back toward the town. Hunter could see he was right. A convoy of trucks was making its way up the pass towards the weapons facility. An American-built Bradley Fighting Vehicle—a kind of half-tank, half-personnel carrier—was leading the way.
As they watched, its weapons officer was pumping out mortar rounds in their direction.
“Let’s go!” Hunter yelled as the shells started to crash down around them. The strike force troopers needed no further prodding. The small band to
ok off through the brush and out into the open fields.
Chapter 20
THEY RAN INTO MORE trouble right away. Another enemy force, this one containing foot soldiers plus some trucks, was making its way toward them from the north. If Hunter didn’t act quickly, the strike force would be cut off from both sides and squeezed by the advancing Sardinians.
Hunter had no choice—he had to call for the choppers. The strike force made its way down into a gulley and found an abandoned farmhouse and barn. The enemy approaching from the town had momentarily lost sight of them, but began lobbing mortar rounds into the gulley nevertheless. The foot soldiers looked like they were heading to link up with the column. Then they all would search the small valley together. Hunter figured the strike force had about twenty minutes tops to be evacuated by the frigate copters.
The Aussie troopers formed a defense perimeter around the farmhouse, while the Spanish rocket teams readjusted their warheads for use against the ground troops. Chloe and Claudia took refuge inside the farmhouse while Hunter and Sir Neil helped with the defense preparations outside.
Hunter sent a one-word message to the chopper pilots which he knew would bring them into the general area. Then he would be forced to send up two flares—the predetermined signal for trouble—and hope the chopper pilots would think quickly and come in for the rescue.
Five tense minutes passed. Mortar shells were landing nearby, but the strike force held its fire so as not to give away its position.
Using one of the Aussie troops’ nightscopes, Hunter could see the two Sardinian forces had linked up about three-quarters of a mile away and now were slowly starting to descend into the small valley, a Bradley Fighting Vehicle in the lead.
That’s when he heard the choppers approaching …
He quickly informed Sir Neil.
“Let’s get the ladies out first, Hunter,” the Englishman said. “I hope we’ll be able to hold them off for long enough.”
Hunter knew it was going to be close. Already the sound of the six rescue choppers was beginning to fill the air. Trouble was, the Sardinians heard them too. Within seconds, the night sky was filled with tracer bullets, all directed toward the approaching helicopters.
