Ghost Recon (2008)

by Clancy, Tom - Ghost Recon 01

  But sitting in the truck and waiting was dangerous. At any moment he would slip into the past, into a day out with his father as they cut wood for the fireplace, into a night when Dad had tried to explain why he and Mom were getting divorced.

  Jenkins shuddered and glanced at all the charges they'd been preparing. C-4 for you, C-4 for me, C-4 for everybody--over fifty pounds in all. Buddha and his little buddy had supplied the materials; now it was up to Jenkins and Hume to call upon their old engineering training to create a glorious diversion, should the need arise.

  The transformer station was located at the base of a curving row of foothills in a heavily wooded area at least a quarter kilometer from the nearest house. Their CIA driver, who was running with lights out and wearing a pair of night-vision goggles, parked them about a hundred meters south.

  Jenkins's pulse rose. Time to rock 'n' roll.

  Beasley and Brown leapt out first and charged off to secure the area. Jenkins and Hume loaded the bags with C-4, hoisted them onto their shoulders, and waited.

  "Breakers on the left. Remember," said Hume.

  "No problem."

  Within three minutes Beasley gave the signal. Jenkins led Hume out of the truck, and they rushed up a dirt road and reached the chain-link fence crowned with barbed wire. Beyond stood the transformer station, rising out of the ground like the exposed bowels of some slain electronic beast, poles like intestines, cables and wires like arteries and veins spanning the gaps between large metal organs.

  Brown had already cut the lock on the gate, so Jenkins followed Hume inside.

  A schematic of the entire transformer station with its switching, connection, and control equipment was already being displayed in their HUDs, and the two of them got to work, first setting up the small and carefully placed charge that would trip the breakers and cut the power to the castle and the surrounding area, then rigging up the larger charges to destroy the entire transformer station and darken an even larger portion of the province.

  Meanwhile, Jenkins knew that Beasley and Hume were relieved to lighten their equipment packs. They had been carrying the team's Small Unmanned Ground Vehicle (SUGV), a tracked recon robot equipped with thermal infrared and digital cameras, along with a loudspeaker system. After opening the bot's waterproof packing, they began assembly. The SUGV was barely larger than a kid's radio-controlled tank, with rubberized tracks supporting the folding camera neck. Although armed only with smoke grenades to delay an oncoming adversary, the SUGV would stand watch over the transformer station and ensure that no one could tamper with the charges. Beasley controlled the bot and would be automatically alerted should it detect movement, heat sources, or any other signs of entry within its target discrimination hemisphere, which was adjustable by the operator.

  When Jenkins and Hume were finished with their charges, the SUGV was already powered up and online, and any member of the team could call up its camera images in their HUDs. Jenkins did so and glimpsed panning images of the fence line, as captured by the bot.

  Brown slipped a brand-new lock on the gate, one nearly identical to the original, while Beasley used the wireless handheld controller to position the robot into a cover position beside two large poles where it could still maintain good surveillance. Once they got out of range, commands to the robot would then be routed through the network, although the SUGV would respond more slowly because of the satellite delay.

  From start to finish the entire operation took 19.45 minutes, and Beasley signaled the captain that they were leaving the area and heading for the castle.

  "We'll cut the power on your order, sir," he added.

  Back inside the truck, Jenkins removed his Cross-Com earpiece/monocle and tugged off his balaclava to palm sweat from his face and massage his tired eyes.

  "You all right, Bo?" asked Hume.

  "Yeah, why?"

  "You just look tired."

  "I'm not. Let's get up there and get this done."

  Mitchell took a deep breath. "Here we go."

  The truck had turned off the road and driven through a narrow path between the trees. Then Buddha had stopped and said, "We are here. Everyone out."

  He led them farther into the adjoining forest, where they found two vehicles: late-model four-wheel-drive SUVs, both black and parked under camouflage netting.

  "We ride up in crap for a good disguise. But we ride out fast and in style," said Buddha.

  Mitchell grinned. "Good surprise."

  Buddha winked. "We take no chances for our escape. Now check your map. The castle is right over the next hill. I will hide the truck and remain here, waiting for you, along with Boy Scout, after he drops off the other team. If you need us to come up, okay, but I would rather not. And I warn you, my partner is a rookie."

  "So a good surprise comes with a bad one," Mitchell said with a groan. "Is there anything else you want to tell me?"

  "No, Captain. I am just a fat man with two cars." After a lopsided grin, Buddha trudged off.

  "All right, let's go to our eye in the sky," Mitchell said as he waved them on and started back toward the road, reaching up to his earpiece. "Cross-Com activated."

  Live streaming video from the castle revealed dozens of lights shining from the windows of all five buildings, and Mitchell zoomed in on each structure, noting the men posted outside. They were only silhouettes, and it was hard to positively distinguish between them and the several dozen civilians still milling about. Occasionally he would spot the end of a rifle barrel. The place was a cluster of anthills, with their targets hidden deep inside.

  Once they reached the edge of the tree line, Mitchell led them up the hill, and near the crest, they tucked themselves deep into the underbrush and set their own eyes on the valley, a rolling, dark green mat speckled with a cluster of yellow diamonds.

  "It looks a lot bigger in person," said Diaz.

  "No kidding," Smith added. "And those buildings do look like missile silos from up here."

  "Paul, get the drone ready for deployment," ordered Mitchell, cutting off the small talk.

  "You got it, Boss."

  Paul Smith dug into Mitchell's pack and withdrew the MAV4mp Cypher, a newly designed man-portable drone not much larger in diameter than a Frisbee and even quieter than the UAV3.

  While Mitchell continued studying the satellite images, Smith activated the drone via its controller, then announced that it was ready for launch.

  "Bravo Lead, this is Ghost Lead," Mitchell called over the radio. "Stand by to cut power."

  "Roger that," answered Beasley, whose truck had just stopped to let off his team. "And we're inbound for the choppers and vehicles."

  Mitchell switched views to his Situational Awareness Tactical Display showing the four green diamonds--Bravo Team--heading toward the north side of the castle, where two choppers were parked in the field, along with two more trucks. The map was color-coded, with hostile terrain glowing orange, secured terrain in blue, and inaccessible areas in gray. Bravo Team would quietly ensure that none of those rides remained operational. If any Tiger tried to escape, he'd be doing it on foot.

  Abruptly, the uplink channel window crackled to life with the image of a young man with bleached blond hair impaled by a headset. "Captain Mitchell, this is Lieutenant Moch, sir."

  Ah, yes, Mitchell had met him briefly and heard more about him from Diaz. "Go ahead, Lieutenant."

  "Sir, we had a clean launch, and you'll have Predator support in one minute, thirty seconds, sir."

  "Roger that. And just remember to keep that flying lawn mower on the perimeter. You scan for outside threats and complement the satellite. We've got the AO covered from here."

  "Uh, roger that, sir."

  Mitchell grinned to himself. The "aviator" wasn't happy, but he had admitted on the sub that the Predator's engines could blow everyone's cover. Still, having the drone provide additional surveillance of the mountains was certainly welcome.

  "Ghost Lead, this is Bravo Lead. We have drivers and pilots pos
ted near their vehicles, and we're in position. Waiting on you, Boss."

  "Roger that." Mitchell glanced at the time in his HUD. "Still a little early."

  He then stole another look from the satellite images, waited a moment more, then switched to the Predator's thermal infrared sensors just as the drone came online.

  He immediately spotted the two snipers posted in the hills, red diamonds flashing.

  "Diaz, check your HUD. Predator's got two out there."

  "I see them. All right, sir, they're mine."

  "Alicia, when that power goes down and I signal, you'll need to work faster than you've ever worked before. Snipers, then main gate sentries. Then you move again."

  "I understand, sir." She backed out of the brush and darted off into the woods across the path.

  Mitchell unclipped the cell phone from his waist and called Buddha. "Okay, where are my targets?"

  "Sorry, Captain. He has not called back yet."

  "What's the delay?"

  "I don't know."

  "Then call him!"

  "Too risky. We must wait. He will call."

  "What if he has second thoughts?"

  "I have read this man correctly. He is scared, but he will help. He wants the best for his village."

  "Buddha, I got air assets, I got people waiting."

  "Captain, you may launch your attack now, but it seems there are still people awake at the castle, and I can't promise how soon that information will come."

  Mitchell thought a curse. "Understood."

  "Sir, do you want to launch the drone?" asked Smith.

  "No, we'll wait till we cut power--but I was hoping to have our targets pinpointed before then, damn it."

  Of course, if they didn't, they'd be searching for four needles within five haystacks. Yet for every second they remained in position, the odds of them being spotted increased.

  Below, a few more castle windows darkened.

  The uplink channel in Mitchell's HUD switched to a view from the tiny camera mounted on Diaz's headset. "Captain, I got a bead on our first sniper. I'll have to move to get the other guy."

  "Hold."

  "Holding."

  "Captain, we're still waiting here," called Beasley from his position in the forest near the choppers and trucks.

  "I know, I know. Just sit tight."

  Inside the castle grounds, Huang held the leash of his dog and started toward the main gate.

  "Where are you going?" asked one of Fang's men posted there.

  "For a walk," Huang snapped.

  The guard frowned. "Walk him here."

  "He will not go here. I take him to the field."

  "No."

  "Do you want me to call Captain Fang?"

  The soldier swallowed. "You know him?"

  "I'm going to walk my dog." Huang turned around, moved to the gate, unlocked the door, then started outside, deliberately leaving the gate open.

  Once he reached the bottom of the path and was turning toward the field, he tugged the phone from his pocket and nervously made the call.

  Forty-three minutes later, Colonel Xu Dingfa was lying in his quarters inside the central, rectangular-shaped building. Fresh flowers had been arranged in vases, and the beds had been made with clean and sweet-smelling linen. Captain Fang had made all the arrangements for the "comfort girls" who had recently arrived, and one of them was already giving Xu a deep and erotic massage. The other three Tigers were, assumably, enjoying their own nights of pleasure before turning to much more grave business in the morning.

  When they had planned the meeting, Xu had suggested that they gather immediately within the first hour of their arrival, but his impatience had been summarily quashed by the older Chen, who considered the "event" a long weekend and chance to work, celebrate, and unwind. Consequently, Xu had arranged for the girls and the banquet-style meal.

  In the morning, they would establish the chain of command, finalize their timetables, and clearly identify the individual types and numbers of ships and aircraft involved. Call signs would be issued, as well as operating area assignments. Chen would distribute the communication encryption key cards for secure communications on what he had dubbed the Pouncing Dragon Primary Tactical Network (PDPTN).

  Xu sighed as the girl dug her soft hands a little deeper into his shoulders.

  The lights suddenly flickered a moment, then went out.

  The girl gasped.

  Xu rose, fumbled in the dark for his radio, found it, and called Fang.

  The captain sounded irritated. "Sir, Huang tells me they are working on the transformers every night. The power should return within thirty minutes. It is no worry."

  "I don't like this, Fang. Security is your mission. Do not fail us."

  "I will not."

  Xu thumbed off the radio and thought of calling Major-General Chen to give him the news. Then again, Chen could already be asleep. Why alert him to something that he might never discover?

  Xu rolled over and grabbed the girl, who giggled.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  HAKKA CASTLE

  XIAMEN, CHINA

  APRIL 2012

  Master Sergeant Matt Beasley was ordinarily a patient man. All those years as a student of human nature had taught him to be still like a predator, always looking and listening.

  But the lights had just gone out. And the captain had ordered them to do . . . nothing.

  They were waiting ten more minutes to give the Tigers' security team time to check in with each other, time enough to give them all a false sense of security.

  Hitting the castle directly after the power went down was much too conventional, and they would be tense, despite whatever story the CIA's inside man told them about the outage.

  And that explained why Beasley, Brown, Jenkins, and Hume continued lying on their bellies within the ditch at the edge of the woodland. The pair of small, two-man civilian helicopters were less than a hundred meters away.

  Images of those choppers had been captured by Beasley's camera and uploaded to the network. Within a minute the helicopters had been identified as Brantly B-2Bs manufactured by a Texas company that had been bought out by the Chinese. A detailed set of schematics and even a suggested sabotage point within the cockpit focusing on the bird's electronics systems accompanied the intel.

  Parked near the choppers were a pair of jeeplike SUVs identified as the new Brave Warriors, and Beasley didn't need the geeks back home to tell him how to sabotage them.

  Out there, a few hundred meters beyond the vehicles, lay the castle, growing even darker as swollen clouds descended like enormous zeppelins to blot out the stars. From one window came the faintest trace of a flashlight being switched on.

  Beasley returned his gaze to the helicopters. He'd hoped that the Tigers would have chosen much larger birds so that the Ghosts could've revised their exfiltration plan to include a swift chopper ride back to the coast courtesy of a Chinese pilot held at gunpoint.

  But as Murphy and logic would have it, the Tigers had chosen to be discreet and flown in via those smaller civilian birds.

  A few drops of rain struck the ditch, followed by a few more. Beasley hoped the captain didn't wait much longer, because once the storm really kicked in, their targets would seek cover in their vehicles, making them even harder to pick off.

  The two chopper pilots and two drivers had gathered near the open tailgates of the trucks and were drinking, smoking, while one was engrossed in a small, handheld computer game.

  Beasley had already played out Bravo Team's raid a half dozen times in his head. He'd initially considered a standoff attack, dropping each guy quietly like snipers and taking full advantage of the camera mounted on his Modular Rifle--Caseless (MR-C) to peek around the vehicles. However, once those men had gathered in close, he'd realized that the raid must be more swift, that all four needed to go down at once.

  And to ensure success, Beasley knew they had to get in close. Very close.

  "Well, that's ten minutes,
" whispered Jenkins over Bravo Team's radio channel.

  "Ghost Lead, this is Bravo Lead," called Beasley on the main channel. "Still waiting on you, Boss."

  "Uh, yeah. Sit tight."

  Something ominous had crept into the captain's tone.

  "What the hell's he waiting for?" asked Brown.