The door opened, and two Montalban retainers came in, each one holding the arm of a third, his feet dragging limply behind him. They pulled the semi-conscious man into the center of the room. Kat waved her hand. “Leave him.” The retainers dropped the man with a thud, turned and quickly left. The man curled up in a fetal position and moaned. He had obviously been severely beaten.
Katarina pushed her chair away from the table, and strolled toward the man, still holding her glass. The rest of us at the table exchanged confused glances, including Anders and Diego. The injured man seemed incoherent. “Everyone, allow me to introduce you to Dieter, one of my employees.” Kat paused, and then threw her wine in his face. He jerked awake as the alcohol burned the deep lacerations on his face. He cringed back from Kat’s feet, trying to roll away, his hands raised to cover his head.
“Ms. Katarina! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” he shrieked.
“Shut up!” she screamed back at him, and then flung the glass into his face. It shattered and he yelped and scurried back further. His back collided with the wall, and he had nowhere else to go. Her voice went immediately back to a normal inflection. “Dieter was working closely with Diego on the plans for the raid. It has been brought to my attention that my employee has a big mouth.”
“I didn’t tell anyone anything!” Dieter insisted, still recoiling. Blood was running down his forehead into his eye, and he instinctively wiped it away with his torn shirt sleeve.
“Only because we caught you in the act before you could open your stupid mouth,” she said calmly. “How long have we worked together? We were equals under Big Eddie. So, what, eight years? Eight years I’ve considered you my friend?” She turned back to address the table. “Ibrahim, if you doubted my sincerity in this operation, don’t let your heart be troubled. Allow me to demonstrate the depth of my commitment.”
“That isn’t necessary,” Ibrahim said, stone-faced.
Kat smiled. Her teeth were a sharp white line splitting her face. “Oh, yes. It is.” A stainless SIG P232 appeared suddenly in her hand. She spun around, and there were two rapid cracks. Dieter screamed as a bullet exploded through each knee. Reaper was the only one to let out an audible gasp.
Dieter just kept on screaming, a hand on each leg, blood welling up between his clenched fingers. “Shut up! Shut up! You haven’t earned the right to scream!” Kat shrieked. The injured man choked back his pain. She walked over to the fireplace, removed an iron poker from the rack, and stuck the tip into the coals to let it heat up. She was again calm as she studied the fire. “This meeting is adjourned. We’ll rendezvous at the assigned positions tomorrow. Anders will see you out.”
So there she was. I was wondering if that personality had finally been put away. She had been so calm since we had reunited, but apparently not. This was Evil Kat, and from the look in her eyes, and the poker in the coals, I knew the Crazy one wasn’t far behind.
I was the last one out. Kat was still watching the poker. I shook my head sadly. If Dieter was lucky he would pass out from blood loss before the metal got red hot.
“She’s irrational,” Fajkus insisted. “I say we postpone, and find a way to do it without her.”
The Exodus members were clustered under an overhang down the street from the Montalban Exchange. Roland, Svetlana, and another young Exodus operative named Phillips met us there. They’d been tailing Ibrahim to make sure their leader was safe. I scanned back and forth, but couldn’t spot any eavesdroppers. We hadn’t walked very far, so my good ear was still ringing from the sudden pistol shots.
“No,” Roland said forcefully. “Every day we wait, more slaves die.”
Svetlana spoke up. “Not only that, we’re committed to the Montalbans now. If we back off, they could easily sell us out to Jihan. No. To postpone now means that we will have to fight both of them.”
Ibrahim folded his arms. Ultimately the decision rested with him. “Lorenzo. You know her best. You were her lover once.” He stated that fact without animosity or judgment, I was simply the best source of intelligence. “Will she fail us?”
I probably knew her as well as anyone could. I weighed my answer carefully. “Is she unstable? Yes. Will she fail you? I don’t think so. She’s as committed as you are, but in a different way.”
Fajkus snorted. “Bullshit.”
“Katarina is dangerous, but she’s focused like a laser beam. As long as she’s targeted on something, she’ll see it through to the end. When she’s got a goal, nothing else matters and she’ll risk anything to achieve it.” I hoped I was right, because heaven help us if I was wrong. “She’s damaged. By what, I don’t know. In a way, she’s like some of the slaves you’ve freed, only she never had someone like Dr. Bundt to help put her back together.”
The Exodus members waited for their leader’s decision. I had come to like each of these fanatics. Roland was an American, as was Phillips, and they were buddies. How they had ended up here was a mystery, but they were both earnest, smart, and likable young men. Svetlana was a sharp woman and, it turned out, a good friend of Ling. Fajkus was a surly bulldog of a man, but he struck me as honorable and honest.
“This isn’t the only way, Ibrahim,” Fajkus insisted.
There was a lot Exodus wasn’t telling me. They were playing it cool, but I knew they had other plots. First off, the number of men on the choppers was a little smaller than what I estimated they had in The Crossroads, and some of the ones I’d met so far weren’t part of the raid. In fact, nobody would tell me where Ling and Valentine were going either. However, you get used to that sort of thing in a business where nobody tells the whole truth.
“Fajkus, old friend. You’ve seen more combat than the rest of us put together, and I always value your counsel, but today I’m afraid that we must choose to associate ourselves with the lesser of two evils. If we turn back now, then Jihan will find out about our mission, and tens of thousands more will die in servitude. Not on my watch.” Ibrahim nodded. “We strike tomorrow.”
VALENTINE
Exodus Safe House
Crossroads City
March 24th
“We strike tomorrow,” Katsumoto began his briefing. “Our operation will commence simultaneously with the main assault on Sala Jihan’s fortress.” The Japanese Exodus commander used a laser pointer to indicate the old Soviet fortress on a large Cyrillic topographical map that was years out of date. The map hung on a wooden board propped against the wall. Someone had written all over it in Sharpie, indicating the present-day positions of things.
Next to the map was a large screen, onto which was projected a PowerPoint presentation detailing our assault plan. A laptop sat on a small table at the front of the room, hooked to a projector. I stood off to the side with Ling. Some fifty Exodus operatives, all of whom were taking notes or listening intently, sat in metal folding chairs. Skunky was among them.
Katsumoto continued, using a wireless mouse to advance the PowerPoint presentation as he spoke. “Our first challenge lies here,” he said. The laser dot fell on a cluster of buildings on the road that led to the hydroelectric plant. “This is a former Red Army checkpoint that is now being used by Jihan’s forces. The road from there to the dam itself is straight, open, and uphill. If we get stalled trying to break through the checkpoint, the enemy will be able to rake us with machine-gun fire and RPGs all the way up to the dam itself. Our strategy will be to smash through this checkpoint as quickly as possible. It’s about a kilometer from there to the dam. If we move quickly enough, we will be on top of the dam before its garrison knows what’s happening.”
Someone raised his hand. “Won’t they still be able to hit us with fire on the way up?”
“Yes,” Katsumoto said grimly. “Our safety lies in darkness and speed. The raid will commence after dark. To the best of our knowledge, Jihan’s forces at the dam are more primitively armed and will likely have limited night-vision capabilities. We will advance up the road without using headlights. This is risky, there is no doubt, but the
re is no other way. We do not have any personnel to spare to try to infiltrate the checkpoint quietly.”
The fifty guys we had were going up against a garrison of over a hundred at the plant itself. They were part of Sala Jihan’s slave army, brainwashed conscripts, but what they lacked in training they made up for in fanaticism. If we didn’t move quickly enough, the Brotherhood could be called down on us as well, and although we didn’t know how many of them there were, apparently they were well trained.
I listened intently as Katsumoto described the rest of the operation. Our initial approach would be made in a small caravan of vehicles, including two old BTR-70 armored personnel carriers that Exodus had acquired in The Crossroads. These vehicles would lead the charge through the checkpoint and up the hill, followed by the unarmored trucks.
The rest of the plan was pretty straightforward. The hydroelectric plant itself wasn’t that large, which simplified things. The road that led up from the checkpoint crossed over the top of the dam itself, running from west to east. On the east side, nestled against the mountains on a flat spot, was a cluster of buildings that housed the defensive garrison and part of the dam’s operational crew. There was also a group of huge transformers, connected to power lines that led down into The Crossroads. There was only one way in and out of this compound, and that was across the top of the dam.
The reservoir, which was covered in ice that I assumed was thick enough to drive a truck across, was on the north side of the dam. Trying to cross the ice would be too dangerous, as there were no roads that led to the shore, and there was absolutely no cover out there. Also, the water line was about twenty feet below the top of the dam.
The south side was even less accessible. The dam was over a hundred feet tall, with no easy way to scale it. A river flowed from the south side of the dam, but there was no way for personnel to access the interior from down there.
The road across the top of the dam was the only way to access its interior. A large concrete superstructure, centered on top of the dam, contained most of the hydroelectric plant’s machinery. You had to go through this building to get inside the dam itself. The actual turbines were buried deep inside, and that is where Katsumoto’s team of sappers would be placing their charges. The explosives would have to be expertly placed to permanently disable the dam and compromise its integrity to such an extent that it would collapse, but not right away. That would be quite an accomplishment. Just blowing the thing up right away would have been easier, and I got the distinct impression that that is exactly what Katsumoto had wanted to do.
Our task would not be easy. We were to hold off the garrison, housed in the compound on the east side of the dam, while also holding off reinforcements from the road to the west. We were outnumbered and there was no room to maneuver on top of the narrow concrete structure.
Fortunately for us, Sala Jihan’s forces would have their hands full. There would be an attack on his fortress, which would surely draw the brunt of his attention and the bulk of his forces. The Montalban Exchange’s mercenaries would attack the garrison in town and create a diversion there. With any luck, the assault on the dam would be low on the enemy’s priorities list.
It remained to be seen whether or not we’d have any luck.
Katsumoto surprised me by drawing the group’s attention to me. “Mr. Valentine will be joining us on this operation. His reputation, of course, precedes him.”
All eyes were on me. I waved sheepishly.
“Mr. Valentine, perhaps you have something to contribute? I have been told that you are a very experienced operator, after all.”
Is he putting me on the spot? I looked at Ling briefly. She subtly nodded for me to speak to the group. Fine. I didn’t know what the hell Katsumoto’s problem was, but I wasn’t going to be made a fool of. I smiled at the Exodus leader politely and made my way to the front of the group.
“Uh, hello,” I began. “My name is Michael Valentine. I’m not one of those guys that likes to blather on about his credentials, so I’ll give you the short version just to assure everyone,” I looked directly at Katsumoto, “that I know what I’m talking about.
“I began my career in the United States Air Force before moving to Vanguard Strategic Solutions International. I have seen combat in Afghanistan, Africa, the Chinese DMZ, Bosnia, Central America, and Mexico. Though, being honest, that thing in Central America was pretty uninteresting. I was also involved in the recent mess in Zubara.” I left out the shootout in Nevada.
“Who are the team leaders here?” I asked. Several of the Exodus operatives in the audience raised their hands. “Okay, good. Now, how many of you have ever worked with each other before? I mean, actually were involved in a combat operation, or even a training operation, where you worked in concert?”
The team leaders slowly lowered their hands, awkwardly looking around the room.
“I don’t know much about how you guys operate in the field,” I said. “As was pointed out, I’m not a member of your club. But I get the distinct impression that you primarily operate in small, independent teams, and aren’t always involved in direct action. Am I correct?”
Several members of my audience, now interested in what I had to say, nodded their heads.
I nodded back. “Right. Well, boys and girls, that can cause problems. You have multiple teams that will be operating in the same small area. You guys aren’t used to working with each other. You may do things different ways. Communication is going to be vital here. This isn’t going to be some quick-in, quick-out sneaky secret squirrel shit. We’re outnumbered and in hostile territory. It’s going to get ugly out there. Things will go wrong. You will take casualties.
“What you need to do, guys, is go over every detail of the plan together. Memorize the terrain as much as you can. Pass that information down to the people under your command. Each person on your team should be able to do the job of another. Everyone should know what the plan is, and what the backup plan is. At no time should anyone out there be wondering what to do. There’s always something you can be doing.
“I don’t mean for anyone to get discouraged. I’ve been in combat with Exodus before. You guys are some of the best trained, most disciplined, and most motivated troops I’ve ever worked with. I wouldn’t be coming to this party if I thought it was a suicide mission. Give ‘em hell.”
With that, I smiled politely at Katsumoto, winked at Ling, and strolled confidently out of the room, even though I didn’t really have anywhere to go. I just wanted to make a good exit.
Later on, needing some air to clear my head, I ventured outside into the cold. The sky was overcast, a low blanket of grey clouds blocking out the stars. The world was lit with a dull ambient amber glow from the lights of Crossroads City reflecting off of the snow and the clouds. Snowflakes lazily drifted downward from the sky, and there was no wind. It was almost pleasant. It reminded me of home, of long winters in Northern Michigan as a child.
Behind the crumbling Soviet-era warehouse was a fenced-off lot where a couple of vehicles were parked. Armed guards quietly kept watch. A couple of barrels had fires lit in them. One had a blazing fire going in it, and was surrounded by half a dozen Exodus operatives, talking and laughing.
The other barrel was deserted, and the fire was dying. I made my way over to it and threw on a couple pieces of wood from the pile stacked neatly next to it. I pulled off my gloves and warmed my hands before shoving them in my pockets. That’s when I remembered I was carrying my harmonica.
I removed the instrument from my pocket and examined it by the glow of the firelight. It was an old Hohner Super-Chromatic 12-hole that had belonged to my father. I held it in my hands and remembered him. He died when I was young. After all these years, I couldn’t remember what his face looked like.
We’d spend summers at his cousin’s hunting camp in the Upper Peninsula, deep in a forest at the end of a dirt road. We’d have a campfire every night, and my dad would play his harmonica and tell stories to us. Sometimes my
mom would be there too, but usually she’d go inside and make dinner, since she’d heard all of my dad’s stories a million times. But my little cousins and I were always riveted, no matter how many times we’d heard them.
My father would tell us stories about being in the Air Force. He’d been a navigator on a B-52. I remembered laughing as he’d talk about playing his harmonica while in flight, driving the rest of his crew crazy. He told us about the time his BUFF got hit by an Iraqi SA-2 during the First Gulf War, and no matter how many times I heard the story, it always had me on the edge of my seat.
“I didn’t know you played an instrument,” Ling said, startling me. Her breath smoldered in the cold air as she stepped close to the burn barrel to warm herself.
I smiled. “I haven’t played this thing in a long time. I keep it because it’s the only thing I have that belonged to my father. What are you doing out here? Can’t sleep either?”
Ling shook her head. “Not yet.”
“Something on your mind? Talk to me, you’ll feel better. Something about the plan is bothering you, isn’t it?”
“The plan is good enough,” Ling said. “We’re making the most out of the assets we have. It’s risky, but Katsumoto and I discussed it at length and I couldn’t come up with any viable alternatives.”
“But . . . ?”
“This entire operation is bothering me, Michael,” Ling said, shoving her hands in her pockets. “Sala Jihan is a blight upon the face of the earth, there’s no doubt about it. It’s just . . . ” she trailed off momentarily, looking around to make sure no-one else was within earshot. “It’s just this whole thing seems rushed. We’re trying to get more people in place, but Ibrahim won’t wait.”
“The longer we wait the more likely it is we’ll be found out.”
Swords of Exodus Page 33
