“We’ll also need to get a couple of big four-wheel drives that can handle the desert between here and Jordan.” Ron once again was thinking out loud. “There are no roads or border crossings within an hour and forty minute drive of this area.
“On the Jordanian side, there aren’t any towns within an hour and only a few abandoned farms until you cross the River Road. It’s not a very well-traveled road. It runs north and south, about ten kilometers east of the Jordan River,” Ron continued to explain. “The main road to Damascus is further east still. With no roads crossing the border anywhere close, we’ll have to make a river crossing to enter Jordan. Luckily, the water level is very low this time of year—just a couple of feet deep at most and a few yards across.”
They arrived at the B&B just after sunset and quickly found their way to a nearby restaurant. They ordered and began making sure they were noticed. Nothing too wild or crazy, just talking loudly and appearing to consume too much wine. When they left, they a made a show of praising the waiter and the chef for the fantastic meal, and tipped the whole staff far more than the usual rich American tourists normally did. The few other restaurant patrons there shook their heads in disgust and made disparaging remarks about the rude Americans under their breath as the team left the restaurant, their mission accomplished.
Once the team arrived back at the B&B, they went straight to their rooms and appeared to call it a night around midnight. A short time later, the group escaped their rooms en masse through windows, balcony doors and the building’s side entrance as if they were skipping out on their bill. They met up in the parking lot across road, behind an old shed. Each member of the team was dressed in all black combat fatigues which incorporated the latest in body armor called Safe Skin. This new body armor was sewn in place between two layers of fabric. It was rated to stop high-powered rounds fired from as close as fifty yards and small caliber rounds as close as point blank.
Ron was waiting for the team with two four-wheel drive SUVs that had been modified for desert use. Kilauea staffers had dropped them off while the team had been at dinner. Ron began handing out equipment as soon as the team gathered.
He started with the latest version of night vision goggles and H&K 40 cal. silenced machine pistols with ten, twenty round clips each. He also pulled a night vision camera from a large duffle bag and handed it to Pam. She quickly checked it out and slung it over her shoulder. He pulled two standard cameras from the bag and handed them to Alex and Steve. Next, he removed a side panel from the interior rear of the SUV and produced a .308 NATO sniper rifle with a custom modified suppressor and handed it to Mike.
“How do you know I’m any good with this?” Mike asked.
“I read your file,” Ron nonchalantly replied. Mike gave Tom a look of concern, but Tom just shrugged his shoulders and continued gearing up.
From the B&B, they drove north on the Nahal Moda until they ran out of houses, then took a sharp right turn setting out across the desert to the east. Upon reaching the Jordan River, they stopped to confer on which direction they needed to go. It was here that Tom suggested Ron go back and get the drone to ensure they had the right target.
“I need you to find us a drone and make an escape plan. I don’t think we’ll be able to just drive back across the West Bank,” Tom explained to Ron. “So, hopefully, you can find a couple of different getaway routes.”
“We’ll be in and out before they even know we’ve been there. There’s only a token force guarding this guy. I highly doubt that they’ll even have radio communications. Their communications are probably limited to cell phones which we can block. I’ll bring back a scrambler from the office. Now, relax. They don’t know we’re here,” Ron chirped happily, a grin plastered to his face as he drove away. As far as Tom was concerned that was just wishful thinking. In his entire eleven year military career, Tom had never been involved in any ops that had gone perfectly smooth. He seriously doubted that this one was going to be the first.
The team squeezed into the remaining SUV and continued across the border using GPS to guide them. Soon, they were at a spot across the river from the target farmhouse, and they quickly set up a forward observation outpost about twenty yards back from the river. The post was nothing more than a foxhole with scrub brush camouflage. It took less than an hour to dig it out and camouflage it. Once the forward observation post (FOP), was finished, they went about setting up the wireless cameras and parabolic dish at the edge of the river with a clear line of sight to the farmhouse. They also made gilly suits from the local bushes and grasses to help camouflage themselves. The team hoped they wouldn’t have to wait too long to catch a glimpse of their target confirming this was the right place. They only had a week and had already used up one day.
Alex and Steve were assigned the first watch at the FOP. Mike was assigned the job of the team’s guardian angel so he wouldn’t have to endure the boredom of lying in the hot sun and sand at the FOP. He would have the fun of being in constant motion doing a continuous recon of the area. His job was to ensure that no one got too close without warning the team. Tom and Pam returned to the B&B to catch some sleep before they took their turn at the FOP later that day. The schedule was twelve hours on, twelve hours off.
Alex and Steve busied themselves by further camouflaging the FOP with small bushes and piles of sand. They would also use the sand to cover themselves in the foxhole, which cut down on the sun’s heat slightly and made it very hard to pick out their shapes from the other sand piles. They were able to cut down on their movements further by watching a continuous feed from the cameras at the river’s edge on the flexible wireless monitors attached to their shirt sleeves. Staying fresh in the relentless heat was made easier by taking turns sleeping throughout their shift until they were relieved or something happened.
The first two days and nights were quiet. The farmhouse and the grove were clearly under guard, and the guards kept a very strict schedule. They changed shifts at the same time each day. They used the same trees to hide in. They sat in the same shadows around the house, and they ate chow at the same time with the same guards switching to allow the other guards to eat.
Mike had not found anything unusual in any of the surrounding farms. The nearest one was abandoned and just over two kilometers away to the southeast. Several of the farms further away were occupied but appeared to be strictly family operations with small children in residence. On the third night, things changed.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Ron phoned in his daily report on the team’s progress once he was back in Tel Aviv. He hit the highlights, exaggerating the likely success of having found Ashrawl and the ease at which they would be able to capture him. He explained the ‘off the cuff’ plan they had come up with and made sure the boss understood they would be revising it as the intelligence presented itself. He also expressed his opinion that it would be much safer if they could just call in an airstrike.
The boss explained he was fresh out of Tomahawks and Cruise Missiles, but he’d file a requisition and see what happened.
“If I can’t have an airstrike, how about a drone?” Ron asked.
“Now that’s something I do have. I can ship one out immediately,” the boss stated. “I’ll shoot to have it there in twenty-four hours. I’ll label it proprietary computer parts.”
Immediately upon hanging up from Ron, the boss ordered the shipment of the drone to Israel labeled proprietary computer parts for Kilauea Corp. Once done with that, Chip started thinking about how difficult it might be to actually escape from the West Bank. The situation was problematic at best, considering the distance they had to cover through the heart of definitely hostile territory. What concerned him more was the fact that should the team be discovered while trying to capture Mr. Ashrawl, their escape might be impossible.
“Hello,” Steven Howard answered his private line after just one ring.
“That was fast. Were you holding the phone or something?” Chip asked.
“I had
a feeling you’d be calling, so I was sitting here waiting for you,” Steven answered.
“Right. Have you got a minute? I need to ask your opinion.”
“What, the great general is going to ask my lowly opinion? Oh, this must be a major crisis. Or are you going to ask which restaurants are good in Miami?”
“Hey, a man has to eat, doesn’t he? Besides, now that I’m a criminal kingpin running a major private army, aren’t I supposed to hang out in Miami with all the other would-be and has-been tin pot military strong men from the Caribbean?”
“Only if you want to get shot or arrested,” Steven stated. “Is there some point to this call?”
“Yeah. Our B team may be in a situation where they’re going to be behind enemy lines, and I’m wondering if you have any reservations about my sending in some backup?” Chip asked without mentioning where or what kind of backup.
“No. Why would I care if you send in backup for the team?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because they’re in the West Bank of Israel and backup will have to fly in over Lebanon and Syria on its way to the West Bank. All while avoiding Israeli, Lebanese and Syrian anti-aircraft emplacements.”
“Why can’t they go in like B team went in?”
“It’s not a question of manpower. It’s a question of firepower. You watched the tapes of the Israelis getting their asses chomped by the al-Aqsa Martyrs Brigade, right?” Chip continued on without waiting for Steven to answer. “That could be exactly what the team is up against. If they get too deep in the shit over there, I want to be able to bail them out.”
“How can we do that? We can’t fly a plane in there, land, and take off again.”
“I know that, but I can send in two helicopters to cut down the pursuers and give them a fighting chance. The choppers might even be able to evacuate the team if something goes terribly wrong.”
“Won’t that mean we’ll have to stage the choppers nearby in order to respond if needed? Where will we get armed helicopters in Israel? It’s not like we can ask the Israelis to escort our employees across the West Bank in the dead of night because we want to interrogate and kill some terrorists,” Steven objected.
“I can have our freighter, the Triton, sitting in the Mediterranean off Lebanon. Just before the team starts their attack, I’ll have the choppers flown to a spot in the desert in Iraq where they should be able to wait for the signal to either go in or come out.”
Triton was the name that the second ship in the Kilauea fleet was using this week. It was one of the three sister ships that Kilauea Corp had purchased and refurbished as state- of-the-art warships disguised as old freighters. It was packed with firepower and electronics, not to mention the best accommodations this side of any billionaire’s private yacht. The ship’s complement of weaponry included short-range ship-to-ship missiles, surface-to-air missiles, thirty and fifty caliber machine guns, several other automated light weapons systems, and a crew that was all ex-military. It also had an attack helicopter and a larger transport chopper with its own set of teeth.
“The Triton is in the Mediterranean?” Steven asked.
“It can be. It’s in the Azores at the moment. But I can alert them to the need and have them underway within four hours. They can be on station off Lebanon by the day after tomorrow.”
“How do you intend to get the choppers in country? Did I say that right? In country?” Steven asked. He’d been trying to learn the military lingo for the past few months and was still struggling with it.
“It’s close enough. They’ll fly in under the radar, using the least populated routes I can find. There are lots of black helicopters flying around over there. Most people will write it off to the Israelis running some sort of an operation.”
“Well, you’ll probably do it whether I want you to or not, won’t you?”
“No, you can take over the security forces operations anytime you want. I’ll be glad to go and sun my toes in the sand on Maui. It’s your call.”
“That’s what I thought you say. I’ve created a monster with my checkbook,” Steven lamented.
“Ain’t it cool! I bet all your computer geek buddies are envious.”
“Just promise you won’t shoot down any Israeli aircraft, okay?”
“I’ll try not to, but I can’t promise.”
“Hey, did you hear about those two refinery fires today?”
“No. Which two? Not in the States, I hope,” Chip replied.
“One was in Japan, and the other one was in India. Both of the refineries are expected to be total losses. The cause hasn’t been announced yet, but the death toll is substantial in India and almost as bad in Japan. Put your ear to the ground and listen for what the real experts think happened, okay? I think someone is purposely destroying the world’s refining capacity.”
“Yeah, you see conspiracies everywhere. Did the fires affect the price of oil?” Chip asked.
“Only slightly—a buck or two. But refined gas went up twenty-five dollars a barrel worldwide. That normally doesn’t affect the U.S. too much, but now that we have to import almost half our daily gas needs, it should show up at the pump pretty quickly,” Steven said.
“I’ll get the word out. We’ll see what anyone comes up with. You really think it could be related to Houston?” Chip asked.
“I’d be surprised if it wasn’t. Look who benefits from the price spike. And who supports the terrorists? The Muslims do. And who are the Muslims for the most part? The Arabs,” Steven said.
“Now, you know I love you, but that’s way too far a stretch without proof. They don’t have the refining capacity to handle their own needs, let alone corner the market on the world’s needs. I’ll ask around, and you do the same. In the meantime, I’ll get the Triton in place to back up the team.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“F-O-P. F-O-P,” Mike called out in a harsh whisper over the comlink.
“Roger, Archangel,” Alex responded in a whisper himself.
“You have an uninvited guest about to arrive from the south at your ten o’clock. He appears armed and dangerous. I say again, you have an uninvited guest arriving from the south. Three minutes out,” Mike alerted Alex and Steve.
“Roger, Archangel. We have an uninvited guest, three minutes out, coming from the south,” Alex confirmed.
Alex and Steve had taken over the FOP from Pam and Tom at around 2300 hours. It was now approximately 0100 hours. They were lying perfectly still, hidden in the FOP by brush, sand and the darkness of the semi-cloudy night. Three minutes later, almost to the second, a man came walking into the vicinity of the FOP from the south. He was walking along casually between them and the river with an AK-47 slung over his right shoulder and despite the darkness, wasn’t using a flashlight.
He was dressed in military camouflage fatigues with a baseball cap that bore a Yankees insignia. The uniform, excluding the hat, was the style that was worn by the al-Aqsa Martyrs Brigade.
“Blend in, guys. I’ve got your six. If this guy tries anything, I’ll pop him before he can blink his eyes.” Mike confidently affirmed that he had the man targeted. Neither Alex nor Steve responded as the man continued to close on their position.
He walked right up to their position, stopping within a few short feet. Alex and Steve did their best to remain frozen in place, trying to melt into the landscape. They lay perfectly still in the darkness waiting for the man to move on—except he didn’t.
The man stood so close to their position, they could smell his body odor. He stood there looking across the river into the darkness for several minutes until his cell phone rang. He waved his arm high above his head for a minute while he spoke quietly into the phone. After a minute, he hung up and moved a little to his left. He kicked at the brush growing there. He then turned and walked to his right a couple of meters where he kicked the brush again. Both Alex and Steve almost had heart attacks as he was clearly searching for something, but after a couple minutes of looking around and kicking at the br
ush, he lost interest and finally moved on to the north.
Alex and Steve waited several minutes after the encounter, doing their best to keep the man in sight by rotating the cameras to follow him. Finally, the man disappeared behind a low hill. A minute later, he was on the other side of the river, and they finally began to breathe easier.
“FOP, this is Archangel. Our ‘guest’ has crossed the Jordan and is now conferencing with the guards at the farmhouse,” Mike informed Alex and Steve that they were relatively safe now. “Be advised they do have night vision capabilities. Repeat, they have NV.”
“Roger, Archangel, we have them conferencing on video feed now. I’ll inform team leader of the situation,” Alex stated.
“Roger, FOP, I’ll follow our friend home and see where he lives,” Mike responded.
“That’s a big 10-4, buddy,” Steve answered.
“What?” Mike questioned, but before Steve could make a nonsense response, Mike added, “Out.”
“One, Two,” Alex called out to Tom. “One, Two.”
“Two, One,” Tom responded groggily after a moment.
“We’ve got a problem,” Alex stated flatly. “We’ve had company. They were searching around our FOP. I don’t know if we’ve been compromised or not. The bad news is that they have night vision on the farm.”
“Shit!” Tom swore loudly. “We saw a couple of trucks at the farm today. I assumed they were dropping off the week’s food supply. That’s probably when they supplied them with night vision. Shit!”
“The company was dressed in a Brigade uniform and seemed to be looking for something, but I don’t think he found it, though,” Alex continued.
“Well, that’s a break. Five, One. Can you see the intruder?” Tom asked Mike.
“Roger, One. He has crossed over the river about a hundred meters north of our post. He came from a house two clicks to the south of the post on the Jordanian side. He is meeting with the farmhouse guards as we speak. He’s definitely with the opposing team, and they do indeed have night vision.”
Reprisal!- The Gauntlet Page 10
