by RD Gupta
Jarrod, a bit startled, looked in the direction of the noise. Sarah didn’t look happy. “Jarrod, get your head in the game. We need to step it up; focus on the task! Don’t get distracted.”
Unfortunately, she was right. He had to keep this news from her. “Sorry! I’m on it,” he responded.
Jarrod took a deep breath. In fact, he took about three breaths in succession, trying to compose himself before anyone noticed. He wiped a lone tear from his right cheek and took another hard look at a section of pipeline. He saw a faint glow near one of the supports and quickly realized it was the phone he had dropped a few moments earlier. As he bent down to pick up his phone, he noticed the glow illuminated the back of one of the pipeline supports and exposed what looked like a slit in the back of the support. As he bent down, it became clear that a small section of the support had been tampered with. He noticed the outline of a small, two-inch square had been carved into the hollow metal post, and thin metal tape matching the color of the support was covering it up. He took out his Swiss army knife and pried open the thin tape that was affixed to the square slit. What he saw was unmistakable.
“It is C4! C4 is wedged into the supports! And a transmitter is attached. Check all the goddamn supports!” Jarrod yelled to everyone in earshot.
Immediately, the Turkish agents gravitated to the nearest supports and started looking for other explosives. Sarah, Koksol, and Eli all ran over to assess the situation. “Where is it? Where is it? There isn’t a timer?”
“No timer. Sarah” responded Jarrod. “Look.”
Sarah did a once-over of the explosive. She bent down and took a careful look at the device, calmly and carefully to ensure she didn’t end up in pieces. “Wait, this is definitely a radio transmitter of some sort.”
Eli piped in, “I’m not sure that is a transmitter. It may be a timer.”
“Eli, no this is definitely a transmitter,” Sarah retorted with some clear annoyance. She continued, “Koksol, any other confirmations from your agents?”
“Not yet,” he responded. “We can’t find any others. This doesn’t make sense.”
Before he finished his sentence, one of the Turkish agents about a football field away yelled in their native language. “I bulduk! C4 I bulduk!”
Koksol confirmed, “Jarrod, we found another explosive.” Then another agent a half kilometer away confirmed yet another explosive hidden in a support.
Jarrod was distraught. “Damn it! They are placed randomly. There are probably over fifty thousand supports along the pipeline. We will never be able to find them all.”
“Jarrod, the triggerman would need a line of sight to the transmitter to be effective. Whoever is detonating must be close, within thirty miles or so,” Sarah said, looking around.
Jarrod thought aloud, “It’s probably someone flying in a helicopter then.”
Koksol shook his head. “That would be too unstable. Based on these transmitters, they would have to fly close to the ground along the entire pipeline and would risk getting blown out of the sky by either the explosives themselves or the Turkish NIO.”
Sarah responded, “All the explosives would have to be detonated from a location that has a clear unobstructed path to each transmitter!” Simultaneously they both turned their focus on the Taurus Mountains off in the distance.
“Sarah, it has got to be up there, somewhere on the lower range. You would have line of sight to fifty plus kilometers of pipeline from up there. Wait a second. I believe there’s a…” Jarrod paused and quickly pulled out his long-range binoculars. He rescanned the barren range left to right three times in succession. “Yep, they are there. A set of observation towers about 35 kilometers away means the triggerman, maybe Basayev, could be somewhere there. He wouldn’t trust this to one of his goons. Bulent, get the plane ready and confirm the parachutes.” Bulent gave a quick nod as he pulled out his phone. Jarrod took the moment to pull Sarah aside. “Sarah, there is something I need to tell you in private.”
“Unless it is going to help us find Basayev, it will need to wait,” Sarah said, shrugging off his arm. She turned and went to the Jeep with Eli. Jarrod was frozen in place for a second, then took a deep breath and started off behind them.
*
Taurus Mountains
Southeastern Turkey
“Altitude, eight thousand feet, speed 284 knots, sir,” the pilot responded as Jarrod asked for the current altitude and airspeed. Jarrod ordered the Gulfstream pilot to fly lower so they could get a better view of the observation towers. Low clouds made the search for the target towers more opaque than they had hoped.
Eli was staring at an infrared display connected to some high-tech gadgetry next to him. He had convinced Jarrod that the infrared was the best way to track the men, so he was on board to help. The terrain showed up as a gray background with red-orange outlines of occasional stags and goats. Sarah donned the binoculars frequently as she looked out one of the windows of the jet. As they circled near the top of the peak, Sarah glanced over at Jarrod. “So you OK with the plan? You make the first jump, and I will coordinate from here. Once you pinpoint a target, I will jump, and we can engage the target. If we are wrong about the target, we are going to lose our window and our only chance to nail this bitch.”
Jarrod didn’t answer.
“Jarrod, are you sure you want to do this? It’s been a long time since you jumped out of a plane, let alone navigated a descent on a tree-lined mountainside.”
“Of course. This is the part I’ve been missing the most.”
“I think we are getting close.”
Just then, an alarm went off on the infrared equipment. A number of moving figures, presumably human, were spotted near a structure about two kilometers away on the mountainside past a clearing. Eli feverishly tuned dials and settings, trying to get the figures in focus. Eli seemed to be quite bad at his craft, however. The moment it seemed like they were zeroing in on coordinates, Eli would twist a dial and the screen would go fuzzy. Finally Sarah bumped Eli out of the way and took control. Within seconds she was able to gather coordinates and a suitable drop zone. Eli seemed a bit annoyed at been upended by a woman as he fidgeted around in his pocket.
Sarah turned to Jarrod. “This must just be it. Based on the intel, there shouldn’t be anyone at this tower; it is only manned during the winter months. There is a clearing about a kilometer from the tower. Land there, and then start the recon. Don’t engage until I touch down. We have one shot at this. Don’t screw it up.”
Jarrod clicked the carabineer on the one side of his pack and pulled. “See you on the other side, Sarah,” he responded and turned toward the hatch. He pulled down on the override lever next to the door, which commenced a series of loud whirring sounds, at the end of which the door opened and the influx of air caused the noise level to rise tenfold in an instant. Jarrod grabbed the side of the door and focused on the upcoming clearing as he prepped to make the jump.
Sarah braced herself against the opposite side of the aircraft. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Eli still trifling around his jacket pocket with his hand and extracting it to reveal a handgun. You have got to be shitting me, she thought. “Weapon!” she screamed at the top of her lungs trying desperately to raise her voice above the loud engine noise that engulfed the plane.
Sarah had little time to react, so she threw her parachute toward Eli. Eli flinched for a second and was able to dodge and fired at Jarrod a sub-second later. Jarrod who was facing out of the plane’s hatch unaware of the events unfolding behind him, lurched forward violently as the bullet made impact. He reached out as a reaction but only grasped air as he was swept out of the plane towards the clearing below.
Sarah, overcome with anger, got close enough to kick Eli’s elbow, causing him to drop the gun toward the airplane hatch. Eli, enraged, began cursing in Hebrew as he scowled and then lunged towards Sarah. He managed to grab Sarah’s hair and jerked her forcefully toward the metal grated floor of the aircraft.
&nb
sp; She hit the unforgiving deck of the airplane shoulder first and winced in pain. Sarah, dazed but still conscious unsuccessfully grasped for Eli’s leg to prevent him from retrieving his weapon. She saw Eli quickly lumber towards the open hatch a few feet away to try and reclaim the gun. The weapon vibrated back and forth with the motion of the plane and was now teetering precariously near the open hatch. If Eli were to get to his gun, Sarah knew she was as good as dead. She quickly ran through her options in her mind as the loud drone of the engines continued immersing the plane. In reality, the list of available options were slim. The only thing between her and probable death was Eli’s infrared equipment and monitor which were on a metal rolling cart near her feet.
When he bent down and picked up the gun, out of both instinct and desperation Sarah kicked the cart as hard as she could muster with the black sole of her steel-toed boot, sending it (and all its contents) hurtling toward Eli. His eyes widened as he knew he would not be able to get out of the way. He fired off an errant shot before the cart struck his right leg with significant force, causing him to take a step backward with his left foot. Unfortunately for Eli, that step was three-quarters on air outside of the airplane hatch. He grabbed for anything he could to stabilize himself. Luckily for Sarah, the only thing he was able to grasp was the cart itself, which was already exiting the plane. Eli tumbled backward out of the plane hatch and continued to curse intelligibly in Hebrew as he hurtled towards the mountain below.
Sarah took a deep breath, still in shock from what happened. She rubbed her shoulder and was relieved that nothing appeared to be broken. The Turkish pilot who witnessed the last thirty seconds of mayhem yelled back and asked if she was OK, to which she nodded. Then her focus quickly turned to Jarrod. She crawled over to the far side of the plane, where her long-range radio (really just a walkie-talkie on steroids) was buzzing with the sound of static. “Jarrod, are you OK? Please report status.”
Silence. Three seconds went by before she tried again. Then again. After the eighth time, she slumped to the floor. “Goddamn it, Jarrod! Please respond!”
For the first time in four years, she teared up and buried her hands in her face. A flash of memories filled her head, including Jarrod taking a proverbial bullet for her actions in Beirut. “What the hell are you doing?” was all she recalled him saying from that day when she decided to go rogue. She kept hearing his voice in her head.
Except it wasn’t in her head. It was a crackled response from the radio. “What the hell just happened? Are you OK?”
“Jarrod, thank God! I thought Eli shot you point-blank in your back.”
“He did, but my vest stopped it. It sent me spinning for a few seconds, but I’m all right. I’ll have a nasty bruise in the morning. Thank God he didn’t hit one of my grenades. That would have been messy. Were you able to neutralize him?”
“You can say that I convinced him to depart the flight a bit earlier than he wanted.”
There was a pause, then Jarrod said, “Thank God you are OK, Sarah. Please be cautious. Eli must have been some sort of double agent, but for whom I’m not sure. There was no way he was a Chechen sympathizer. We can alert Koksol later. We have no time now.”
“No time? Jarrod, have you already identified a target?”
“Yes, I think we are in the right place. There is a cabin next to the communication tower about a kilometer away. I can definitely see movement. I see two dark gray or brown unmarked Land Rovers, one of which is heavily armored. There also appear to be a handful of armed soldiers, only they are not wearing standard-issue Turkish cammo.”
With that, Sarah signaled the pilot to circle around and pass low so she could meet with Jarrod at the rendezvous point a few hundred meters from Jarrod’s current location. Jarrod was on an opposite ridge on the mountaintop so he could observe without blowing his cover. Even better or perhaps luckier, it looked like the plane hadn’t alarmed the terrorists…at least not yet.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Taurus Mountain Top
Southeastern Turkey
Jarrod checked his watch and figured he had approximately twenty-four minutes until Sarah was to touch down. He wanted to put it to good use. He decided to get a closer vantage point on the foggy mountaintop to formulate a plan. Jarrod hid his chute between some rocks and rotting moss covered logs in the dense woods. The observation tower was about a kilometer up a dirt switchback road that zigzagged its way up the mountainside. He made sure to keep about a safe distance from the road itself in case the terrorists were coming back (or leaving for that matter). About a hundred meters from the cabin, Jarrod decided to get a bit closer to the gravel road as the terrain was easier to navigate than the thick underbrush. Jarrod suddenly heard shouts in the distance along with random bursts of fire in his general direction, which quickly got his undivided attention.
Jesus, he thought. My impatience may have just gotten me killed. He took off in a sprint toward a denser (and foggier) portion of the woods while distant shouts and continued bursts of fire seemed to follow close behind.
Jarrod wedged himself behind a large rock between him and his assailants. As he paused to catch his breath, the absurdity of the situation hit him. This is insane. I’m a god damn stock trader, he thought. What the hell am I doing here? A few weeks ago, I was drinking a mojito on a freaking yacht.
Bullets ricocheted off the rough terrain around him. He fumbled in his pocket and took out his phone, using it as a mirror to see what he was up against. There were a hundred yards between him and the terrorists who were trying to take him down. He counted four guys total. Two of the commandos were within fifty yards, both shooting randomly from behind forty-foot pine trees. The other two took refuge behind a dusty gray Jeep parked outside the outpost. There was also an armored green Land Rover parked about 20 yards from the cabin. The two behind the Jeep were yelling back and forth to each other and pointing repeatedly to the Land Rover like it was housing a dragon. On a positive note, the two commandos that were closer to Jarrod seemed confused about his whereabouts, as they were now firing randomly into the opposite side of the woods.
Jarrod nudged a bit closer to the boulder that was offering him protection and taking a moment to think to himself, I’m still alive, that’s somewhat of a positive, but what the hell is in that Land Rover?
He then quickly pulled the phone down and took a few short deep breaths in succession. He thought about what he saw. If the triggerman is here, wouldn’t they have just blown the pipeline when they spotted me? So either the triggerman isn’t here after all... or could it be possible the detonator is in that Rover? He put the phone up again and saw a fifth man with a beard exit the cabin toward the commandos.
“Holy shit! That’s Basayev!” he blurted. He picked up his radio and whispered as loudly as he could. “Sarah, I’ve got myself into a bit of a bind here. Let me know if you are at the rendezvous point yet.” No response. He figured she was still parachuting in, hopefully safely.
The two commandos that were a stone’s throw from Jarrod continued to slowly move in the opposite direction, indicating that they didn’t know exactly where he was. Jarrod crawled to his left to get a better vantage point. Basayev was also yelling furiously at the other two guards and pointing to the Rover.” He heard one or two words but in the chaos, he couldn’t make out the language. Jarrod heard the word “pill” over and over.
Jarrod was confused, That doesn’t make any sense. Are they trying to protect some sort of drug trade as well? Regardless, Jarrod needed some breathing room. The two commandos that were originally heading away from Jarrod changed course and were now closing in on him as they passed within a few dozen yards of the front of the Land Rover. Jarrod knew it was time for action.
I need a distraction to buy us some time, he thought to himself. Jarrod then pulled the pin off one of the grenades from the belt and lobbed it as high as he could toward the two commandos who were now getting too close for comfort. The grenade was headed off track and it landed well s
hort of the target but took a lucky bounce when it hit rock and rolled toward the commando’s right foot. Even better, the commando didn’t even notice it until the last second as he quickly bent down to try to redirect the grenade. Jarrod covered his ears out of habit moments before the impending blast. The explosion blew the weapon out of the terrorist’s hand. Well, technically, it blew off both the hand and the gun. Jarrod thought to himself, One down and four to go.
The grenade had the positive side effect of shattering the windows of the armored Land Rover. The terrorists were, at least temporarily distracted as they yelled to each other and were temporarily off Jarrod’s back. They took to a defensive position on the porch of the dilapidated cabin behind a mound of rotting logs.
“Need a hand?” Jarrod heart skipped a few beats as he turned toward the voice to see Sarah crouching next to him.
Jarrod was more than surprised, “What? How did you find me?”
“Are you joking? I have your GPS beacon coordinates, remember?”
“Right. So I’ll get you up to speed in the next five seconds. Basayev and three of his goons are in the area. Basayev and two are near the porch. One is in the woods, near the Rover, but he is tracking us. One has been neutralized. The detonator is in the armored Land Rover at three o’clock over there about thirty yards up that dirt path right in front of the cabin.”
“Wait. How do you know it’s in that Land Rover?” Sarah inquired.
“First of all, they haven’t blown the pipeline, and second, they go absolutely ape-shit every time I shoot near that Rover.”
“Jarrod, Let’s hope you are right. OK, so let’s blow up the Land Rover and then take out Basayev.”
“But it’s heavily armored. I bet if we get the grenades near the gas tank, it will blow it to pieces.”
“Great,” replied Sarah. “Weren’t you Bocce champion back in college?”
