LOST AND LETHAL
Page 16
“True,” Zilan said.
“On the other hand, if I go to your father’s home and tell him my story and he doesn’t believe me, I probably won’t walk out of his office. Will I?”
“Not likely. Which will you choose?”
Molka smiled. “Take me to Zoran the Great.”
CHAPTER 34
“The Red Lion’s Den”
7:12AM
“And this one is for just now telling me she killed the three men I sent to abduct her instead of one of the old man of Mucize’s units like you first told me!”
Rivin slapped Tariq again hard, adding a split lip to go along with a bloody nose he’d given him, also adding to the red boot sole abrasion on his right cheek and black and purple knot under his right eye from Molka’s earlier kick.
“Sorry.” Tariq kept his head tipped forward so the blood dripping from his nose would not fall on his white turtleneck.
The confession, interrogation, and slapping meeting took place in the interior yard.
Jäger and Fuchs looked on with Fuchs wearing a large white bandage on his injured nose.
In the background, Rivin’s men worked to square away their vehicles and unload their take from the previous night’s thievery.
Rivin shoved Tariq to the gravel. “I’m going to ask you again, how did she get into the armory and get that weapon?”
“How could I know?” Tariq said. “I don’t have access to it. You know that.”
Rivin paced three steps to the left, turned, and paced three steps right, and repeated the maneuver. “So, she killed three of my men by herself and then kicked you in the face and knocked you out like a little bitch and then killed two more of my men and then tried to bite Fuchs’ nose off and then kicked him in the balls and then kicked him in the head and knocked his ass out.”
Fuchs spoke with a pinched nose voice due to his wound and bandage. “She just got lucky. I see her again, the bitch dies.”
Rivin continued his rant to Tariq. “Is she that good, or are we just that bad?”
“Well,” Tariq stood, “she served with an Israeli special forces unit. That’s what they’re trained to do. They’re very dangerous people to be messing with.”
Rivin’s face became more annoyed. “Then why did you get my man Omar drunk and try to fuck her?”
“I couldn’t resist,” Tariq said. “Her beautiful butt mesmerized me. Have you noticed how it has that perfect athletic but feminine shape?” He drew an air outline with his index fingers to illustrate.
Rivin raised his hand to Tariq again.
Tariq flinched.
Rivin pulled his hand away. “You were always such a smart -ass bullshitter. And you still are. You shouldn’t have come back here.”
“Again, I’m sorry,” Tariq said. “And yes, it was my fault you lost one Israeli intelligence operative that you wanted to sell and then decided to keep for yourself. But look on the positive side. You still have one Israeli intelligence operative you can sell left.”
Rivin glared at Tariq and then smiled. “No. You’re wrong about that.”
“Wrong about what?”
“I still have two Israeli intelligence operatives that I can sell.” Rivin pointed his weapon at Tariq. “To the dungeon with you.”
“Hold on a moment,” Fuchs said. “Since he’s fallen out of favor here, I would like to give him a chance to back up his tough talk to me yesterday.”
“Go ahead,” Rivin said. “But take him down to the dungeon and do it. I don’t want the men to see a foreigner beating on him. They really like him for some reason. Omar will open the dungeon door for you.”
Fuchs smiled at Tariq and motioned him toward the blockhouse. “After you, pretty man.”
Tariq walked to the blockhouse with Fuchs on his tail. Fuchs opened the door for him and followed him inside.
Tariq stopped and faced Fuchs. “Before you take me down there and beat me near to death, I have something to tell you.”
Fuchs smirked. “What, your theory about not turning a valuable commodity like a hostage into damaged goods?”
“No—well, yes, there is that—but I also want to tell you something else that you should seriously think about.”
“What?”
“Something that can make you seriously rich.”
“How?”
“Do you have a satphone?”
“Yes,” Fuchs said. “Why?”
CHAPTER 35
Zoran the Great’s Private Office
8:32AM
Zoran the Great sat behind his desk listening.
Zilan sat in a chair next to him, translating.
And Molka sat in a chair facing Zoran, telling him her story in all the details she could recall.
When Molka finished, Zoran spoke.
Zilan translated his words to Molka. “My father says he believes you.”
Molka bowed her head humbly. “Thank you.”
Zilan translated.
Zoran spoke.
Zilan translated to Molka. “My father says he will deal with Tariq’s treachery in due time. My father says he has lost some money, and you have lost a general and a pilot. My father says there are much worse things to be lost in life and that you should go home and find a nice man to marry to raise many healthy children with.”
Molka frowned. “I can’t go back home without the general.”
Zilan translated.
Zoran spoke.
Zilan translated to Molka. “My father says, if that is so, you are welcome to stay here and join his fighters.”
“A tempting offer,” Molka said. “But your father did not mention something else that is lost. That being, seven pretty young women from his domain locked in a cage in a dungeon and being used for the vilest of purposes by Rivin.”
Zilan translated.
Zoran spoke.
Zilan translated to Molka. “My father says he thinks of these poor girls each day and grieves for their situation. And someday, the cowardly dog who took them will pay for it. But unfortunately, he cannot rescue them right now.”
Molka spoke. “In the two hours since I arrived here—and enjoyed another delicious breakfast, thank you—I’ve been thinking. And I’ve come up with a plan to rescue those poor girls, free the general and my pilot, recover the money, and take ‘The Red Lion’s Den.’”
Zilan translated.
Zoran laughed and then spoke.
Zilan translated to Molka. “My father says you possess the bravery and fierceness of a true warrior and the cleverness of a leader, but even these great qualities are not enough to achieve such impossibilities.”
Molka spoke. “When I was imprisoned inside the fortress, I learned that when Rivin goes out on a raid, he takes all but a few of his men.”
Zilan translated.
Zoran spoke.
Zilan translated to Molka. “My father says this is because Rivin is scared when he leaves the fortress and wants to ensure of his safety.”
“I agree,” Molka said. “And that means the fortress is very lightly garrisoned and vulnerable during these times.”
Zilan translated.
Zoran spoke.
Zilan translated to Molka. “My father says, even a small garrison operating the heavy machineguns and heavy mortars from behind those huge walls can hold off a much larger force. My father says he knows this to be true because he and his fighters have attacked that fortress unsuccessfully on two occasions before, both times suffering heavy losses.”
Molka spoke. “In my time serving with the IDF, I witnessed that a good diversion can be a very powerful force multiplier. And that if properly employed, this tactic can overcome seemingly near-impossible odds. And I believe I can suggest just such the diversion we would need.”
Zilan translated.
Zoran spoke.
Zilan translated to Molka. “My father says he is listening.”
CHAPTER 36
“The Red Lion’s Den”
9:51AM
&nbs
p; Rivin entered the blockhouse’s common room outfitted for action again, including a red keffiyeh and carrying an assault rifle.
Jäger slouched in a chair wearing a white tee shirt and his khaki cargo pants. His khaki work shirt was draped on the chair back and his cap sat on the table before him. Hatless Fuchs lay on an old couch against the wall also wearing a white tee shirt and his khaki cargo pants.
Both watched another German football match on the big screen.
Rivin viewed them. “You two look beyond bored.”
Jäger answered without looking. “We are.”
“Well, come with us. We’re about to have a lot of fun.”
“What kind of fun?”
Rivin grinned. “The old lion is dead. Long live the young lion.”
Jäger twisted in his seat toward Rivin. “And what does that mean?”
“My informant has just confirmed the old man of Mucize left his stronghold and is heading to the little village of Umut in his domain. The people there are hosting a big ceremony at 11AM to formally thank him for saving their village from smugglers.” Rivin grinned. “And we’re going to crash the party.”
Fuchs kept his eyes on the game. “Didn’t you tell us the last four times you took your 100 against one of his 50-man patrol formations you got a real ass beating.”
Rivin grinned again. “My informant also confirmed that he’s only traveling with a two-vehicle, 8-man bodyguard detail. Apparently, his fighters had a hard time in that village battle, and he wants them to rest and recover.”
“What is your strategy?” Jäger said.
“We’ll ride to Umut, dismount about a half kilometer away, and then quietly encircle it. I want to catch the old man alive so I can take my time killing him.”
“You will deploy a reconnaissance team first, of course.”
Rivin’s face flashed with annoyance. “No need for that. I just told you, he only has 8 men with him.” He moved around Jäger and Fuchs and stood before them. “Thirteen long years I’ve waited for this day.” He pointed to his facial scar. “The old man gave me this for making a simple error that cost a single man his life. He said it would remind me for the rest of my life the price of careless mistakes.” He unsheathed a combat knife on his belt and plunged it into the table next to Jäger. “Now he has made the careless mistake of his life and will get more than a scar to remind him.”
Jäger looked to Fuchs. “Daddy issues are a tragic thing.”
Fuchs tipped his head back and howled in laughter.
Rivin glared at them. “You two coming, or not?”
Jäger rose, unstuck the knife from the table, and tossed it back to Rivin. “May as well.” He grabbed his shirt and hat. “Better than watching Bayern lose again.”
“No, thanks,” Fuchs said. “I’ve seen enough dirty little villages with dirty little villagers to last the rest of my life.”
CHAPTER 37
Zoran the Great’s Staging Area
Outskirts of Mucize
10:33AM
A full 25-man unit of Zoran the Great’s fighters stood in formation beside their vehicles.
Each man wore their standard olive-green fatigues with gold-colored keffiyeh headwear. They all waited equipped for combat with full web gear, and shoulder slung AK-47s.
The unit commander viewed two people exiting the aluminum barn-like building behind them and called his men to attention.
One of the approaching individuals was Zilan dressed in her dark blue cargo pants, dark blue jacket, and carrying her red trauma kit bag.
Molka walked alongside her. She traded her black mock turtleneck and black jeans for olive-green fatigues and wrapped a gold-colored keffiyeh around her head. She carried an AK-47 with a folded under metal stock slung on her back. Her black tac-boots and old pilot’s watch on her left wrist carried over from her previous look.
Zilan and Molka arrived before the formation.
The commander spoke to Molka.
Zilan translated. “The commander asks that you speak to his men before the attack.”
Molka nodded to the commander and addressed the men with Zilan translating as she spoke.
“Fighters, as you may know, I was imprisoned in ‘The Red Lion’s Den.’ And while I was fortunate enough to escape, I came to appreciate why in its 1,300-year history this mighty fortress has never once fallen to an attacking army.”
“However, if we all carry out our assignments within Zoran the Great’s plan, I feel we have a better than average chance of victory.”
“Fighters, best of luck to you all. I hope to see you inside.”
CHAPTER 38
Village of Umut
11:28AM
BOOM!
BOOM!
BOOM!
BOOM!
Jäger knelt behind boulder cover on a rocky hill overlooking the village. He used binoculars to observe Rivin, and about 20 of his men, retreating toward him at the run from the village center while being chased by explosions from mortars and heavy automatic weapons fire.
A sweat-soaked, agitated Rivin, and his accompanying men, scrambled up the hill near Jäger and took cover behind other boulders.
Rivin called to Jäger. “What the hell was that?”
Jäger lowered his binoculars with a wry smile. “I would say that was a little more than a two-vehicle, 8-man bodyguard detail.”
Rivin scowled at Jäger. “No shit, smartass!”
Jäger raised the binoculars and observed again. “And that is not a village hosting a celebratory party. That is a village converted into a fire support base with two 120-millimeter mortars and at least four 12.7-millimeter heavy machine guns.”
Rivin pounded his fist into the ground. “The old man tricked me! He had his spy feed me just enough truth for the past two years to get me to trust him and walk me right into this trap.” He grinned. “Zoran the Great is still the best.”
Jäger continued his visual assessment. “They have pushed back your center, and your flanks are about to be flanked by superior infantry formations and two armored personnel carriers with 30-millimeter cannons.” Jäger lowered the binoculars. “This engagement has been decided.”
Rivin crawled over to Jäger, grabbed the binoculars, and focused on the debacle unfolding below. “Damn it! I’ve lost over 40 men down there!” He removed the two-way radio from his pocket and yelled into it. “Red team, white team, pull back! Pull back! Everyone, pull back! Get to the vehicles! Prepare to withdraw!” He lowered the radio and locked his terrified eyes on Jäger. “We better get to the Den before he kills us all!”
CHAPTER 39
Large Rock Formation
Five Hundred Meters South of “The Red Lion’s Den”
11:41AM
What would the major say if he was here?
He would say…
Ok, Molka. They now have two guards on the wall. One of whom is manning the heavy machinegun pillbox in the southwest corner. And that weapon has an effective range of around 2000 meters. So as soon as you leave cover, he can cut you into mangled little pieces. And even if he misses, the other wall guard and gate guard can get you with their AKs.
That’s the bad news.
The good news is, if your plan works, they’ll never see you coming.
Now go accomplish your mission.
Yes, sir.
Molka lowered the binoculars she’d borrowed from the unit commander and started to climb down from her observation position atop the large rock formation.
The unit waited on the ground below her. They left their vehicles beside the dirt road a kilometer away and concealed themselves behind the rock formation without detection.
Someone should have blasted those rocks to dust years ago to give the fortress defenders a deeper field of fire. But after centuries of invincibility, maybe they never felt the need.
Molka reached the ground and approached the commander with Zilan standing beside him. Three fighters worked to set up a 120 mm mortar, and the others took a knee a
nd awaited orders.
Molka handed the commander his binoculars back, and the commander handed Molka a purse-sized, olive-green canvas bag holding a bell-shaped object. The bag was closed by a drawstring, and Molka used the string to tie the bag to her belt on her left hip.
Zilan viewed the object on Molka’s belt with apprehension. “Are you sure that will work?”
Molka shrugged. “Nothing is for sure in an operation. But once I get to the wall and deploy this,” she patted the bag, “there is a good chance ‘The Red Lion’s Den’ will fall to us. If I don’t get killed first, of course.”
Zilan frowned. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
“Me too. Tell the commander I’ll call when I reach the wall.” Molka nodded at a two-way radio in Zilan’s hand. “If you don’t hear from me, don’t come looking. Just get back to the vehicles and rejoin Zoran the Great.”
Zilan translated to the commander.
The commander nodded at Molka.
Molka took a deep breath and then exhaled. “Alright. I’m ready if he is.”
Zilan translated.
The commander nodded again and moved behind the mortar and its crew.
Molka walked to the rock formation’s edge, unslung her weapon, and viewed the fortress again.
She glanced back to the commander and gave thumbs up.
The commander issued an order to the mortar crew, and they fired two rounds.
Molka watched and waited for the impacts.
THUMP!
THUMP!
Right on target, the two smoke rounds impacted at the base of the fortress wall slightly to the right of the entrance ramp and created a dense white cloud that rapidly obscured the gate and a large portion of the south wall.
Molka broke from her cover and ran for a point she visually fixed on the wall to the left of the entrance ramp.
One hundred meters into her run, the machinegun atop the wall opened fire.
Molka increased her pace.
The machinegun kept firing.
But she did not hear any rounds zipping by or see any ground impacts, and she was not dead yet.