Pompeii's Ghosts (A James Acton Thriller, #9)

by J. Robert Kennedy

  But he had nodded. Though not a verbal acknowledgement of what she said, it was an acknowledgement nonetheless.

  “So, now that we’ve agreed on the facts, and I’ve informed you of several things that you were not aware of minutes before, I have no doubt that you will now want to cooperate fully in the international effort to retrieve these innocent United Nations representatives.”

  “Of course.” The response was curt, clipped, almost forced. But she didn’t care.

  “Excellent. Here’s what we will need to proceed.”

  Outside al-Sadiq Compound, Hamashkoraib, Sudan

  “You wanted a diversion, I’d say you’ve got it,” said Spock as they all watched the assault now taking place on the compound. About half a dozen technicals with fifties mounted in the rear were taking turns strafing the front of the compound while several dozen hostiles on foot had taken cover all along the street, firing at any target of opportunity that might pop their head up to take a shot.

  And in classic amateur style, they had left the rear completely open for escape.

  Or in this case, entry.

  The lights were quickly being taken out by the attacking forces and several RPG’s had hit the gate which was being heavily defended.

  “Now or never,” Dawson said, motioning for them to move forward. As they raced through the flatlands surrounding the north of the town, the sun behind them and low, they managed to close the distance in less than ten minutes, coming to a rest behind some heavy shrubbery. Dawson surveyed the situation once again, the sun now set behind them. “It looks like they’ve only got one guard in each of the towers, everyone else is up front. Let’s take out the corner tower lights, wait sixty for him to tell his buddies he’s okay, then take him out, enter over the wall, then find someone for a friendly chat. Questions?”

  Four head shakes and they repositioned closer to the two-three corner outside the north-west of the compound. “Take out the lights,” ordered Dawson. Atlas and Jimmy took aim with their suppressed Glocks, Atlas shooting from the left, Jimmy the right, eliminating the four lights in just as many shots, leaving the corner in near complete darkness.

  Then they waited.

  “Hasni, are you okay?” came the shout within seconds.

  “Yeah, they just hit the lights!”

  “Too bad Hasni’s about to die,” muttered Atlas. “Say goodbye, boys.”

  Dawson continued his mental countdown, listening for the chatter between the guard posts to stop. As predicted, it did with ten seconds to spare. He raised his own Glock with suppressor, provided by Red earlier. “Bye bye, Hasni.” He fired, the body dropping to the floor of the guard tower.

  They listened.

  “It would appear nobody noticed,” said Atlas. “Poor Hasni.”

  They rushed forward, Red tossing a rope with hook over the wall then holding it tight as Dawson then the others scaled the ten feet. Dawson swung over the lip then dropped to the ground below, immediately scanning their surroundings. As he turned he fired his weapon into the stomach of a surprised guard who had apparently been making rounds alone. As the man grabbed at his stomach Dawson raced forward, shoving his hand over the man’s mouth and pushing him to the ground. Moments later the rest of the team was covering him.

  Dawson looked down at the man, his face barely visible in the dark.

  “Where are the hostages?”

  The man shook his head. Dawson pushed his knee into the man’s stomach. His muffled cry did nothing to hide the pain he was in.

  “I’ll ask once more. Where are the hostages?”

  The man’s eyes darted toward the back of the building. Dawson removed his hand, leaving about an inch of space should the man decide to cry out. “Through the door, down the stairs.”

  “Thank you.” Dawson pistol whipped him into unconsciousness, the man at least now dying with no more pain, a stomach wound a hideous way to go. They reached the building unscathed, the firefight out front still intense, the light from fires now flickering across the entire area as grenades and RPGs continued to be exchanged. Dawson found the door and tried it.

  Locked.

  He pointed at the door and Jimmy placed a charge on the lock, blasting it with a small explosion that merely mixed in with the background noise as the door swung open. The lights were on inside revealing two guards at the bottom of the stairs. Two quick shots and both were out of the game as Dawson rushed down toward them. There were four doors, two on either side, all with small barred windows. He looked inside the first to his left and gasped.

  Inside were at least a dozen women lying on the floor in near darkness. He slid the lock across and pushed open the door. The stench was unbelievable, clearly latrine facilities not provided.

  “Oh my God!” gasped Jimmy as he stepped inside. “What the hell is this?”

  “Slaves,” boomed Atlas. “Modern day slaves.”

  Dawson felt his stomach hollow out as the women slid across the floor toward the back wall, clearly terrified. Dawson holstered his weapon, raising his hands. “Does anybody speak English?”

  A girl, no older than ten, raised her hand, it shaking in fear. Dawson almost felt himself crack. “I do,” came the whispered voice as gunfire continued to crackle outside.

  Dawson knelt down. “My name is Burt. What’s yours?”

  “Aliya.”

  Dawson smiled at her. “That’s a pretty name.”

  Her head dropped, but her wide eyes still met his.

  “We are American soldiers. We are here to help you,” said Dawson, praying to God he wasn’t about to give these poor women false hope and just get them killed. “Do you understand?”

  She cried out in Arabic what he had just said then leapt into his arms, hugging him as hard as he had ever been hugged as the other women, most just girls, rose and surrounded them, hugging the soldiers and thanking them.

  “We’ve got three more cells just like this,” said Red from behind him. “What the hell are we going to do, BD?”

  “We can’t leave them here,” said Dawson as the mass of once hopeless women continued to surround him.

  For the love of God we can’t leave them here!

  al-Sadiq Compound, Hamashkoraib, Sudan

  “It’s getting pretty intense out there,” said Niner.

  “I wonder whose attacking?” asked Acton.

  Niner shrugged. “Dunno, but I don’t think we can count on them being friendly.”

  Several bursts of gunfire outside their cell door silenced the room, everyone spreading to the sides and away from the line of fire. The bolt on the door slid aside and the door swung open. Acton tensed himself up, ready to leap into action, they having all agreed to fight the next time they had an opportunity.

  When the person he least expected burst through the door.

  “It’s us!” cried Reese, covered in blood and dirt and still barefoot. She was quickly followed by Lee Fang who looked her usual stoic self, but her eyes revealed something different, and Acton prayed that she hadn’t been raped.

  “What the hell happened?” asked Niner as he stepped forward.

  Reese tossed him the gun then pulled out the knife he had slipped her earlier. “I killed them!” she cried, clearly still wired from the adrenaline rush as she bounced around the room. “Me! Who would have thought? Little old me! Little old me!” Her eyes met Acton’s and she threw herself in his arms, suddenly sobbing. He embraced her, patting her head as the realization of whatever horrors she had had to commit to escape sank in. That the alternative would have been far worse he had no doubt, but he said nothing, realizing words weren’t what she needed right now.

  The others said nothing, instead pulling the bodies of the guards inside and closing the door over as they assessed their newly acquired weapons. They now had four AK-47s and half a dozen extra magazines, along with one well-used knife.

  “Let’s move out. We’ll clear this level room by room,” said Niner, taking point. The door was pulled aside and he stepped out
in the hall, the entire group advancing, Niner covering the front while Lee Fang covered the rear, the Italians opening each cell door as they moved, all thankfully empty. At the end of the hall there was another door, and through that Acton knew were the stairs that led up to the rear of the compound, the same way they had been led in here. Unless one of these doors led to another set of stairs, it was the only way out he knew of.

  The rooms cleared, Niner opened the door at the end of the hall, all four of their weapons now facing forward.

  “Hold your fire!” he yelled, his fist shooting up in the air as he stood straight, a huge grin on his face. “We’ve got company!”

  Acton couldn’t see what was going on from his position at the back, Reese still clinging to him, but the joy in Niner’s voice was obvious.

  “We thought you were dead!” cried Niner.

  And then Acton knew. It had to be Dawson. He pushed himself up on his toes and felt a sense of relief wash over him as he spotted several of the Bravo Team members on the other side of the door. He lowered his head and whispered in Reese’s ear. “Everything’s going to be okay now, help is here.”

  Red stepped through the crowd and tossed a satellite phone to Acton. “Speed dial #1,” he winked. “Why don’t you give them a sit rep?”

  Acton’s eyes narrowed and he held in the #1 button. It dialed.

  “Hello?” asked the voice he would recognize no matter how bad the connection.

  “Hi hon, it’s me,” he almost whispered, his voice cracking as the pressure of the past two days began to lift.”

  “James! Oh thank god you’re alive!”

  “We didn’t all make it, I’m sorry to say, but Dawson and Niner are okay, and so am I. Reese is good along with four of the observers. We’ve also got two of the hijackers here. I’m afraid we took some casualties though.”

  “Where are you?” asked Reading’s voice as Laura obviously switched them to speaker phone.

  “Hi Hugh, good to hear your voice. We’re still in the basement of the compound. We’ve cleared this level but there’s a heavy gunfight happening outside.” He looked down the hallway, through the doors, and saw the faces of scared women begin to appear in the hall from several of the rooms. “Oh my God,” he whispered as he realized what they had stumbled upon.

  “What is it?” asked Laura, her voice filled with concern.

  “I think we just found a human trafficking ring.” He felt Reese’s fingers dig into his arm at his words as she witnessed her possible future. “We’re going to need some serious help.”

  “Hold your position, we’ll be there soon with the Sudanese army, ETA ten minutes,” said Hugh.

  Dawson saw Acton with the phone and smiled as he watched his friend speak to his fiancée. It made him want to call Maggie, which surprised him.

  Maybe there’s something real there after all?

  Dawson stepped through the crowd toward Acton. “Situation?”

  “They’re on their way with the Sudanese army. ETA ten minutes.”

  Dawson wasn’t sure he was overly happy with it being the Sudanese coming to the rescue, but at the moment he had no choice. “Very well,” he said. He and Red pushed through the crowd and reached the steps, Niner with them. “What’s the layout, Sergeant?”

  “Half a dozen cells beyond the door, all empty save a few bodies including one of our own.” He nodded toward the stairs. “This appears to be the only way in or out.”

  “Okay, then this is what we have to defend,” replied Dawson. “Have all the civilians moved as far back as we can, into the rooms with the doors closed. We don’t want anybody getting hit by strays. First line of defense will be upstairs at the door. Shoot anything that approaches. This is fallback position number one, the second set of doors is number two. If we lose that, we lose the fight.” He motioned to Atlas and Jimmy. “You two take point.”

  Both men rushed up the stairs and took up position on either side of the door. Dawson followed them up and shattered the light bulb with his Glock sinking the entire stairwell into complete darkness. He peeked out the door, satisfied no one had yet discovered the true situation. The air was thick with smoke now, and his trained ear suggested there was gunfire being exchanged from within the compound now, the attackers apparently having broken through the gate.

  Suddenly his comm squawked, as did the others.

  “Bravo One, Defiant Leader. Identify your location, over.”

  Dawson’s eyebrows popped as he activated his comm, Red punching him in the shoulder with joy. “Defiant Leader, Bravo One. Identify yourself, over.”

  “Bravo One, Defiant Leader. We are here courtesy Mr. Grey. ETA on your location in sixty seconds. Please identify location of friendlies, over.”

  Dawson sent a silent thank you to Colonel Clancy, aka Mr. Grey at times. “Defiant Leader, Bravo One. If it’s above ground, it isn’t friendly. We are in the basement of the compound. Be advised Sudanese regulars are approaching location along with at least one helicopter. I will try to get them to hold, over.”

  “Roger that, Bravo One. Keep your heads down until the rain stops, over!”

  Dawson rushed down the stairs with the others, being near the above ground doors no longer a wise move. “Phone!” he yelled to Acton who turned and said something to whoever he was talking to then tossed it to him. Dawson caught it. “To whom am I speaking?”

  “Laura Palmer and Special Agent Reading,” replied the professor’s excited voice.

  “This is Dawson. Under no circumstances have the Sudanese enter this zone, I repeat, under no circumstances. I will contact you shortly.” He ended the call and tossed the phone back to Red.

  “Let’s button this place up, the cavalry’s arriving!”

  Approaching al-Sadiq Compound, Hamashkoraib, Sudan

  “He said to hold your troops!” yelled Laura, the General none too pleased to be given orders from some unknown on the ground.

  “Look!” yelled Reading, pointing out the open side door of the chopper they were in with the American Ambassador and the General.

  Laura gasped as at least a dozen helicopters raced toward them. Muzzle flashes lit up the area surrounding the compound, much of the main building on fire, the gate blown open but blocked by several destroyed technicals. The scene was utter chaos and as the General spotted the approaching strike force he yelled into his comm. Reading pointed below at a column of Sudanese military vehicles as they raced toward the firefight then suddenly stopped, several vehicles turning around, a hasty retreat underway.

  Missiles streaked from the weapons pods of the helicopters, the guard towers ringing the compound erupting in flames. A series of rockets quickly eliminated much of the forces outside the compound, removing their cover within seconds, then turning the exposed hostiles into ground beef as their cannons opened up on the startled attackers.

  From their vantage point through the open door it was like a movie screen, the horror almost lost at times as the action in the distance played itself out, dozens upon dozens dying, never seeing their attackers, and as the heavy resistance faded, several large Black Hawks positioned themselves over the compound, their cargo leaping out the sides as dozens of Marines slid down ropes.

  As the troops split into coordinated teams, the compound was quickly subdued, the firefight moving into the large house. Gunfire continued to be heard, muzzle flashes lighting up the night through open windows, the occasional explosion as a grenade was tossed.

  And then it was over.

  They continued to hover as they watched the compound being secured, several of the choppers now landing.

  “Look!” Laura pointed to the rear of the compound as a large group of people began to file out. “That must be them!” She turned to the General. “We need to land! Now!”

  Acton stepped outside, the gunfire silent, the shouts of dozens of American soldiers and the thumping of helicopters filling their ears instead. He and Dawson led Reese toward the command chopper, a full-bird Colonel standing
near it on his comm giving a situation report to somebody. As he saw them approach he ended his conversation.

  “Mr. White, I presume?” he said to Dawson.

  Dawson nodded. He motioned toward Reese. “This is Miss Reese. She’s the ranking UN official.”

  “Glad you made it out of this alive,” said the Colonel, nodding toward the large group of women that had been liberated. “All in all it looks like a lot of good was done here tonight.”

  “We lost a lot of good people,” replied Reese, still covered in blood from head to toe, her story still a mystery to Acton. “Too many died, but every single one of them died a hero in my books.”

  “Agreed,” said Acton. “There was one French soldier who threw himself on a grenade and saved us all. It was the most heroic thing I’ve ever seen. When we’re situated I think we’d all like to make sure that those who died get some sort of special recognition from their governments for what they did.”

  The Colonel nodded. “You’ll all be debriefed on the carrier.”

  Dawson pointed at the two Russians they had captured earlier. “Those two are hostiles, part of the team that hijacked our transport.”

  The Colonel pointed to two of his men. “You two! Take those two into custody!” he ordered, indicating the Russians. He motioned toward the freed sex slaves. “What are we going to do about them?”

  “We take them with us, of course,” replied Reese, her tone indicating how shocked she was at the question.

  “It’s not part of my mission parameters,” said the Colonel, who held up a finger cutting off Reese before she could respond, “however, they are clearly victims in a hostile environment, and didn’t you say one of them claimed to be American?”

  Acton smiled. “Yeah, that was me. I can’t remember which one though. And I had the distinct impression there may have been more than one.”

  The Colonel motioned to one of his men. “Some of those women might be American citizens. Load them all on the choppers and we’ll sort it out on the carrier.”