“Mike,” Logan said, “you know there are some highly trained operators with him. Just remember, this could go south fast, especially if they understand what they’re doing is considered treason.”
John added, “Which is why the colonel’s quick-reaction force is currently staged in a locked garage adjacent to the large bay the convoy will enter once it arrives. It’s as good a place as any in this facility to seize them.”
The bay was actually an enormous staging area over two hundred yards long and sat directly atop the multiple gates that fed the Euphrates when opened up to the reservoir. It was segmented by five gigantic concrete pillars, which created multiple openings from the bay to the concrete railing. Beyond the railing was a straight drop into the waters of the Euphrates, one hundred and twenty feet below.
It would be closed off at both ends by two infantry companies—also staged and out of sight—once the convoy entered the bay. There would be no escape.
“Captain West,” said a grizzled, hard-looking man, the regiment’s sergeant major—he preferred to use Logan’s former rank as a sign of respect—“our Marines are ready. They’ve been briefed on the seriousness of the threat to our national security these men pose—without mentioning the details of the nuclear bomb, of course. No matter what happens, they’re good to go.”
“Sergeant Major, I appreciate that. I know the resolve. I still have it. But again, these are professional killers hell-bent on attacking a foreign nation. Cain Frost and Scott Carlson are just as dangerous as anyone on our side. Any tricks they might have up their sleeves will be lethal.”
“Well then, Logan, we’re just going to have to see how this thing shakes out. It’s going to go one way or another, but I’m betting on the home team.” Colonel Walker had been a high school football star in Texas and was known for his sports references, as were many Marine Corps officers.
“Gentlemen—and that includes you, Sergeant Major, no offense,” the colonel said, referring to the fact that senior staff noncommissioned officers took pride in their enlisted status and jokingly “worked for a living,” as opposed to the officers above them, “I believe it’s time we head down to the COC and wait for our guests to arrive. There’s nothing more we can do up here.”
The colonel turned to the FO and said, “Jack, you stay up here until this is over. If this goes wrong, be prepared for anything, got it?”
The Marine captain wasn’t fazed. He’d seen too much combat in Fallujah to be surprised by anything, even a nuclear bomb.
“Sir, if they try to make a break for it, I’ll rain death from above and send them all to Kingdom Come.”
Colonel Walker smiled. “That’s what I like to hear, son.”
He turned to the group and gestured to an opening in the roof that led to a ladder. “Shall we?”
Mike looked at Logan and said, “I really can’t wait until this shit is over.”
“I hear you, brother, but we have one more job to do before we can go home.”
“No kidding. Let’s just make sure we do it right,” John said.
The men climbed down off the roof, leaving Captain Jack Barnett to watch over all of them.
CHAPTER 50
INSIDE THE HADITHA DAM
2 NOVEMBER 2008
The five Cougars pulled into the staging area and rolled to a complete stop on the left side of the enormous bay. Two steel doors twenty feet wide and fifteen feet tall rolled toward each other.
Clang!
The doors shut, sealing the convoy inside the bay. Another set of doors closed at the opposite end.
A group of Marines in overalls were hunched over two Humvees halfway down the bay. One Marine was inside on the floorboard, while another aggressively looked for something under the hood. They glanced up as the vehicles stopped, acknowledging the private security force with a few nods, and returned to mechanical work in progress on the nearest vehicle.
Cain Frost spotted Colonel Walker near a large, closed metal door that led deeper into the dam. He’d obviously been waiting for his visitors, his sergeant major at his side.
The colonel waved at Cain, and the two Marines walked in the convoy’s direction.
The security force dismounted the Cougars, exiting from the rear of each vehicle and forming a loose perimeter.
From inside the lead Cougar, Cain spoke to Scott Carlson. “No matter what, Jackson’s team stays with the vehicle until we can unload our gear. If anyone asks, the suitcase is secure communications gear for us to talk to our headquarters back in Baghdad. Call or text my cell if something changes. Got it?”
“Roger, sir.”
“Good. Now let’s put on this dog and pony show and try to act gracious at the warm welcome of the good colonel here.”
He looked at Scott through Oakley sunglasses covering eyes that revealed no emotion. “In other words, lie.”
Cain opened the passenger door and stepped down. He carefully used the large step to reach the ground several feet below, bending his knees as he landed.
As he straightened up, he glanced over at the Marines working on the Humvee. Two of the Marines now stood on the other side of the Humvee, glancing more frequently at Cain and his security force.
What? Never seen actual professionals before?
What Cain didn’t see were the other four Marines in the back of each Humvee quietly checking their weapons.
Cain turned his attention back to Colonel Walker. He’d almost reached them, a broad welcoming grin on his face.
Cain moved around the front of the Cougar and looked to his left to see Scott conferring with Jackson and his security detail. All of his men had exited the vehicles. He noticed their guns were still in their hands, gripped casually but firmly and aimed toward the ground. He knew his men could go weapons hot in seconds. The thought eased some of the tension he felt.
“Mr. Frost,” he heard in a warm southern accent. “I’m so glad the weather broke, and you were able to make it.” Then the colonel was directly in front of him, extending his hand in an enthusiastic greeting.
Cain immediately assessed the man’s character, noting the fit physique, the short, Marine haircut, and the confident stance of a serious man.
The colonel smiled, but Cain saw the glint of something else in his eyes. It flashed momentarily and was gone, the grin once again the dominating feature on his face.
Was that contempt? No way. It’s just your nerves. Calm down or you’re going to make him suspicious, even though he has no reason to be. You’ve come too far to screw this up at the end.
“I appreciate the hospitality, colonel. It’s been a long few days, and this is the last stop on our little tour. Are my men around? I don’t see any of them here.” Cain looked around the bay, noting again the Marines that were now watching his men intently.
“They’re actually on a perimeter sweep today. I figured they’d want to double-check the fence line since their boss was coming. And your boat crew should be returning from a patrol on the river. I thought you’d link up with them after we had a chance to grab some chow and chat awhile. I hope I wasn’t being presumptuous?”
Cain smiled, gnawing skepticism beginning to erode his confidence. The hair stood up on the back of his neck. “Not at all.” He already knew the location of his boat crew. “Makes sense to me.”
“In that case, Mr. Frost, let’s head to the COC, grab that bite to eat, and I’ll take you on a tour of the facility. I’ll have my sergeant major here”—he paused as he nodded at the man to his right—“show your men to their billeting.”
He gestured toward the closed vertical door in the back of the bay wall and said, “Shall we?”
Cain heard Scott order the men to unload their gear. He turned and gave him one final nod and fell in next to the colonel as he was led away toward the back of the bay.
Cain scrutinized the environment, his senses highly trained and acutely aware, rapidly processing information from his surroundings. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Then for
no other reason than professional curiosity, he glanced down at the colonel’s sidearm in a quick-draw holster on his right hip. Two facts immediately registered, and alarm bells began to ring loudly in his head.
Why is he wearing a quick-draw? It’s uncomfortable and intended for combat. Shit. His weapon’s loaded. The magazine was inserted into the bottom of the pistol grip. No reason for him to carry a loaded weapon here. The security threat is minimal, even nonexistent. There’s a greater threat of a negligent discharge by a careless Marine than an attack. Unless—
Before he could finish the thought, his cell phone vibrated. He stopped midstride and grabbed his BlackBerry from its holster on his belt as he said, “Excuse me, Colonel. Give me a sec. It’s my home base in Baghdad.”
“It’s an ambush. They know.”
The short message sent his cognitive processing into overdrive. His mental calculations returned with only one option, no matter how many times he ran the scenario.
He calmly replaced the phone back in its holster. Colonel Walker looked quizzically at him. “Is everything okay, Mr. Frost?”
Cain’s face was expressionless. “Unfortunately, Colonel Walker, I’m afraid not.”
Without uttering another word, Cain withdrew his own HK .45 pistol in a blindingly fast movement and shot the colonel point-blank in the chest.
As the shot echoed off the concrete walls and pillars, one lone moment of silence stretched across the bay like an eternity. Then it was shattered by explosions and gunshots as the enormous staging area on top of the Haditha Dam was turned into a war zone for the second time since the United States had invaded Iraq.
* * *
THE EUPHRATES RIVER
Tom Denton had secured his small-unit riverine craft—or SURC—to the concrete pier along the base of the dam. The flow from the dam was turned off to allow his HRI patrol boats to use the dam as a staging area for riverine operations. As far as the Marines in the COC were concerned, Tom and his four other HRI security personnel had just concluded another patrol on the Euphrates.
Tom Denton had also fulfilled one other function that only he knew about—be prepared to evacuate Mr. Frost if he contacted him on his cell. He’d been given precise coordinates and told to stage his boat and wait. Tom had told his team they were providing escort for the HRI convoy in case anything happened on the road to the dam. If needed, they could beach the SURC and move to support. Fortunately, no order had come, just a text informing him that his boss was clear.
The rest of the riverine unit hadn’t been briefed on the real intent of their employer’s visit: only Tom had a need-to-know for that information.
So when he’d received the “all clear” signal, he’d assumed the mission was still a “go,” absent any unforeseen obstacles. His instructions had been to act normally and link up with Mr. Frost this evening. He intended to keep his appointment. He was being paid an exorbitant amount of money to do so.
As he threw the boat’s line to a young Marine, he heard another Marine speak to someone on the dock. His crew had already disembarked and were walking away down the concrete pier. He’d told them he’d tie up.
“I don’t know what’s going on up there, but the place is locked down. I couldn’t get to my Quadcon on the other side. Was going to use the bay to cross but was told to find another way around.”
Tom’s ears perked up, and he looked up to see the Marine engaged in a conversation with a fellow team member. They were part of the Marine’s own Riverine Squadron, but their boats were tied up farther down the dock.
“You serious?” the second Marine asked.
“Abso-fucking-lutely. Hell, I even saw part of our quick-reaction force head into the COC as the gunny shut the door in my face. Fucking crazy, man.”
That was all Tom needed to hear.
He grabbed his cell phone from his cargo pocket and sent Mr. Frost a text message to warn him. The message sent, he waited.
Come on, sir. You better see it. He knew Cain and his men were fish in a barrel up there.
Suddenly, the sound of gunfire poured across the dam like crashing waves.
He didn’t hesitate. He yanked the line back from the dock and started the engine.
This is going to get ugly.
He had no idea how right he was.
CHAPTER 51
HADITHA DAM STAGING AREA
Cacophonous gunfire roared through the enormous space. Even as the first shot ricocheted off the walls, Marines poured into the space from hidden staging areas behind doors at both ends of the bay, weapons up and searching for targets.
Cain Frost screamed, “It’s an ambush!” and pivoted to run back toward his Cougar, determined to reach his vehicle and the nuclear suitcase.
His men reacted instantly, opening fire on the Marines as the Marines found cover behind large stacks of crates sitting on pallets scattered at both ends of the bay.
Cain didn’t look back as he heard the door to the COC—his initial destination—raise on its vertical rails. Footsteps pounded on the floor as someone screamed, “Grab the colonel!”
Cain reached the front of the Cougar and suddenly came face-to-face with Scott Carlson, who pointed his HK G36C Commando assault rifle toward Cain and fired past him.
Cain turned and saw one of the Marines who’d been pretending to be a mechanic fall to the floor as Scott’s rounds found their target.
“Sir, we have to get out of here, or we’re all going to get slaughtered.” He spoke loudly but didn’t yell. Scott was not a man disposed to panic, even in situations like this one. It was one of the main reasons Cain had chosen him as his second-in-command years ago. He’d heard about the chameleon who worked for the CIA in the Green Zone. His reputation as a master manipulator had preceded him. It was a skill Cain valued more than any other.
“They have the entrances at both ends blocked.” He stopped talking to fire the G36C again. Cain didn’t bother to turn as he heard a Marine scream in pain behind him. Scott usually hit what he aimed at, unfortunately for the Marine he’d just shot.
“Tell the men to load the vehicles. Get the .50-cals up. Once they’re providing covering fire, grab a SMAW from the back and take out the door at the far end,” he said, referring to the shoulder-launched multipurpose assault weapon. “We’re driving out of here. We’ll figure out the rest once we get outside.”
Scott acknowledged the orders with a nod and moved toward the back of the vehicle so that he was in earshot of the closest man at the next Cougar. He barked the instructions as bullets bounced off the concrete floor between his vehicle and the next.
Each member of the HRI security force had found cover, either behind the Cougars’ enormous wheels, his back to the open air and the river below, or near one of the gigantic columns of concrete that served as a partition and support.
Cain saw a few of his men lying motionless near their respective Cougars, victims of the assaulting Marines.
He grabbed the passenger door and leapt into the front seat. Inside the vehicle was the safest place at the present moment. He kept the door open in order to provide Scott with additional cover as he yelled orders to the men, who relayed them all the way back to the last vehicle.
So close . . . No matter what, have to keep trying. His only thought was of his brother. Nothing else mattered, even as men were killed and wounded on both sides of the battle. Nothing else matters!
The firefight rose to a fevered pitch. Automatic and semiautomatic fire joined in one endless cacophony of sound. Bullets pinged off the Cougar’s armor and windshield.
It’s going to take more than that, Cain thought, managing a malevolent grin.
He heard the roar of five .50-caliber Browning machine guns open fire. Inside the cavernous space, the heavy weapons turned the tide of the battle in Cain’s favor in a matter of seconds.
This might actually work, he thought as his men unleashed steel hell all around him.
* * *
INSIDE THE COC
On the
other side of the vertical, corrugated steel door, Logan West and John Quick reacted instinctively at the sound of the first gunshot.
Neither man contemplated what might’ve tipped Cain to the ambush. It was irrelevant. As all professional soldiers knew, no plan survived first contact. The only thing that mattered now was securing the nuclear device.
“Get the door up!” Logan shouted at a Marine major who stood next to a control panel along the right wall. He pushed a button, and the door slowly slid upward on its rails, revealing the unfolding chaos beyond.
Logan and John were crouched behind a heavy metal desk, one of many arranged throughout the large operations center. The furniture was currently being used as cover by the Marines, all aiming M4s toward the opening door.
Logan and John were closest to the door and the first ones to spot Colonel Walker’s form, motionless on the floor. His sergeant major was trying to drag him to safety inside the confines of the COC.
“Choose your targets and watch for friendly fire!” Logan screamed above the din. He opened fire with his M4 at the nearest HRI man aiming an assault rifle toward the sergeant major. Unfortunately, in his haste, he’d moved from cover, and a short burst from Logan’s weapon struck him squarely in the chest. He fell to the concrete floor.
Logan was looking for his next target when John yelled, “Cover me!” and jumped over the desk, sprinting toward the sergeant major.
As John ran, a platoon of quick-reaction force Marines that had been lined up along each wall dashed through the door. They peeled away out both sides of the entrance in search of cover and enemy combatants.
Logan watched as John reached the sergeant major. He grabbed the commanding officer’s left arm as the sergeant major gripped the right one. Both men pulled the fallen Marine along the smooth, cold floor toward the COC, a small streak of red trailing behind.
Logan spotted another mercenary at the rear of the lead Cougar. He aimed through his reflex sight and unleashed three quick rounds. Only the first bullet was necessary. It struck the man in the forehead, snapping his head back and killing him.
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