by Brad Taylor
He saw the crest of a butte, the release point. They crossed it.
He stood up, turned to the men, and pointed off the ramp, into the vastness of space. They exited without hesitation, the entire team spilling out of the back of the aircraft like lemmings with a death wish.
The last man passed him, and he followed, leaping out of the aircraft with a faith born from a thousand jumps before.
He felt the buffeting wind from the slipstream of the aircraft, then entered the clean air left behind, arching his back and falling flat and stable, looking for the team. He saw the blinking strobes, all in front of and below him, and relaxed, checking his altimeter.
There weren’t any Hollywood stunts like linking up and turning points. They were twenty-five thousand feet above the earth at night, each carrying more than a hundred pounds of equipment and breathing oxygen from a tank. If they could all open their parachutes at the designated altitude, that would be success.
All too soon, he reached four thousand feet. He cleared his airspace, making sure nobody was around him, passing through three thousand feet. He arched hard and pulled his rip cord.
He felt the chute kick out but knew immediately something was wrong just by the way it deployed. It partially inflated, whipping him hard to the right. He looked up and saw a tangled mess. He seized the toggles, jerking them down, attempting to fully inflate the canopy. It did no good. He began spinning in a circle, the rotation becoming more and more violent, to the point that the centrifugal force was about to make him black out.
Flying through the air with half lift, falling to earth like a fidget-spinner toy, he felt the rucksack between his legs begin to twist. It caught enough air to flip him on his back, the weapon at his side punching him hard in the jaw.
He shook his head, squeezed his knees, and forced the rucksack back below him. It caught the wind again, flipping him back onto his belly, still spinning. He frantically traced his harness to the cutaway pillow, yanking it out like he was pulling Excalibur from the stone.
The bad parachute jettisoned, and he was briefly in free fall again, a sickening sensation, causing his stomach to lurch. He grabbed his reserve rip cord and ripped it free. The parachute inflated, and he had a brief moment of respite, then saw he was within two hundred feet of the ground and flying fast. He had no time to lower his rucksack. He saw the earth racing to meet him and yanked deep on the toggles. He hammered the ground, bashing his knee into a rock. He screamed, rolled over, and realized he was alive.
He lay in the dirt for a moment, savoring the act of breathing. He worked the fasteners on his rucksack, put his weapon into operation, then stood up, his chute splayed behind him. He realized he was on the plateau, but way off the designated mark.
He saw trucks in the distance and thought, Not all bad. At least that asshole found the drop zone.
64
The rain started coming down harder and I began to wish the safe house location we’d been given by Mowgli was in the city of Maseru, so I could establish a TOC inside a hotel. But at least I didn’t have it as bad as Knuckles and Jennifer. I was sitting in a coffee shop with Shoshana, one of the few local establishments open for business in this small village. Although calling it a coffee shop was probably giving it an air of suburban legitimacy it didn’t deserve. It was a thatched-roof cinder-block building with four plastic tables and a small room off to the side where the owner cooked over a propane stove. It was incredibly rustic, something I completely ignored because it was also dry, and the hosts overcame any lack of modern conveniences with their open, friendly attention to us.
Knuckles and Jennifer, on the other hand, were in a hide site dug into a hill across a valley from the Morija Guest House. When Jennifer had learned the safe house was within rock-throwing distance from a set of actual dinosaur tracks, she actually volunteered for the duty, something she was probably now regretting.
I’d placed Brett and Veep in another hide site with a view of the main road into Morija, giving us early warning of any suspicious traffic. I’d kept Shoshana with me, for obvious reasons. I wanted her on a short leash because I was sure putting her in the field would be like dangling bacon in front of a Rottweiler.
The village of Morija was tiny—really nothing but one paved road—but it was the historical heart of the country of Lesotho, with the king’s residence only a few kilometers away, the Lesotho Museum and Archives down the street, and the church of the first French mission founded in the country within it. While Maseru had ended up being the capital, Morija was the wellspring of its heritage.
Mowgli had told us he’d coordinated for the rental of an entire establishment known as the Morija Guest House—to include the owner’s house—which turned out to be three buildings at the end of a rutted dirt road high in the mountains. Not exactly the Ritz. Getting close had been a little bit of a chore, but once we’d determined we’d beat the force to the location, it gave us time to prepare.
The distance to Morija had ended up being about double Jennifer’s earlier assessment, as it took us close to eight hours to get to the village. We’d arrived just prior to nightfall, and I’d determined that the guest house had no easy surveillance positions, as it was built onto the side of a mountain all by itself, at the end of a road only a four-by-four could use. I’d detailed Knuckles and Jennifer to hike into the woods and build a hide site into the brush on the hill across the valley. They’d established an observation post, and they’d been sending negative reports ever since. Then it had begun to rain.
I’d used a Thrane Inmarsat to send a SITREP to Blaine in Djibouti, the owner of the coffee shop looking at me like I was a wizard full of black magic. Blaine had had no additional updates from the Oversight Council, so I assumed I was still good to go with my mission. Which, honestly, I wasn’t sure how I was going to accomplish. First on the list was locating and recovering Aaron, but I wasn’t holding back on the second and third objectives because of the first. Aaron could be dead for all I knew.
I had a lot of options to pursue. I could hit the guesthouse if anything appeared; I could tag whatever vehicles were there, tracking them for follow-on operations; or I could simply assess and report to Blaine, letting him get the mighty machine of the United States in motion. Either way, I figured we had twenty-four hours to figure it out. The guys weren’t going to hit the ground and immediately go into operations. They’d use the guesthouse for planning, and that gave me some breathing room—time to coordinate an appropriate response in conjunction with Blaine.
I focused on my primary twin objectives—finding Aaron and stopping the transfer of the nuclear triggers. The coup really didn’t factor into my thinking—I’d let Blaine work that through the State Department or DoD. Or not. That was above my pay grade.
Eventually, the coffee shop closed and we were forced to leave the shelter of the thatched roof for the rain, making me wish we’d driven the Land Rovers through the Sani Pass, compromise be damned. We’d paid the wonderful hostess much more than she’d requested and ended up sitting against an abandoned brick building that was missing its roof. We were within view of the road that led to the guesthouse, looking like a couple of hippies trying to thumb a ride to Woodstock.
With the rain pelting down in an incessant bongo drum against the makeshift poncho hooch I’d built, and the darkness consuming us, Shoshana said, “I should go to the house. Explore it now, before anyone arrives.”
“Aaron’s not there. We haven’t had a single sign of life from that place.”
She played with a pebble on the ground between her feet and said, “I felt something bad. Aaron’s in trouble. Deep trouble.”
I sighed and said, “What, like you felt a disturbance in the Force?”
She said, “What’s that mean?”
I said, “Seriously?”
“Yes.”
She is not human.
I said, “Nothing. Look, we’re stic
king with the plan. If we don’t get jackpot here, we’ll reassess our options, but for now, we aren’t tainting the one lead we have.”
She said nothing, snuggling into me to capture the warmth of my body. It was a completely Shoshana move, with no overtones at all, and it made me smile. She was without intrigue, a blank slate. She felt cold, and I was providing heat, so she would use it.
I adjusted the makeshift hooch I’d made, stopping a drip, and put my arm around her. She said, “I cannot believe Aaron is in danger because of some American pursuing nuclear triggers. It doesn’t seem fair. We left that behind. We don’t do that stuff anymore. We do nonthreatening work.”
I said nothing, letting her words settle. She continued. “I no longer kill just because someone orders me to do so.” She shifted, looking up at me. “But I’d kill to save you.”
I said, “Shoshana, you don’t need to convince me to help Aaron.”
She settled back down and said, “I think I do. You don’t hold him as important as I do. You don’t understand our connection.”
I said, “I completely understand. He’s your Jennifer. I get it, trust me.”
She whipped her head around and said, “You think that? You think our relationship is like yours?”
“Don’t you?”
She said, “Don’t toy with me.”
I said, “Look, it’s not jinxing anything to say it out loud. I feel like I’m walking on eggshells with you whenever Aaron’s name is mentioned. I know what he means to you. I understand. I was you at one time.”
I squeezed her shoulder and said, “I’m still you, at my core.”
She wormed closer and said, “Well . . . you understand, then. You are also the Pumpkin King.”
I laughed and said, “Yes. I suppose I am.”
Our earpieces crackled, and Veep came on, saying, “Three SUVs just entered town, headed toward the mountain road. Couldn’t see what was in them.”
I looked at my watch and saw it was just past ten P.M. Considering we hadn’t seen a vehicle the entire time we’d been here, I figured it was them. I said, “Roger all. Knuckles, you copy?”
“Got it.”
The SUVs passed by us in the darkness, the headlights reflecting the incessant rain. Twenty minutes later, Knuckles called, saying, “It’s them. Twelve men. I got positive ID on Johan.”
I glanced at Shoshana and said, “Any sign of Aaron?”
“None. It’s the assault force. If I were to bet, they’re going to bed down here tonight, do some planning, get situational awareness, and then assault tomorrow night. Maybe he’ll show up later, once they’re settled.”
Which was pretty much what I was thinking. I said, “Okay, stay in place until they bed down. I’ll rotate you guys out with Veep and Brett.”
Veep came on, saying, “I don’t think that’s going to happen. Pike, you know that field next to the river we had to forge? The one with the old sign for the cultural festival? Adjacent to the boys’ school?”
“Yeah?”
“Five deuce-and-a-half-looking trucks just pulled up. Full of soldiers.”
What the hell?
65
I clicked on the net and said, “What are the trucks doing?”
“Nothing. They just killed their lights and are sitting in the field.”
“Are you secure?”
“Yeah, yeah, they can’t see us. We’re down in the river, looking over the bank, but this isn’t a coincidence.”
Knuckles said, “Two of the SUVs are headed back down the mountain, empty.”
I tucked the poncho around us, blending in to the darkness of the building. The SUVs passed by, and a few minutes later, Veep said, “They’re at the army trucks. A gaggle of men are loading.”
Five minutes after that, he said, “They’re headed back up.”
Shoshana said, “This is it. They’re attacking tonight.”
The vehicles passed us again, and I said, “No. They wouldn’t do it this quickly. They just got on the ground. They need to do reconnaissance. Conduct final planning.”
“They have a Lesotho general on the inside of this thing. We know that. How much planning do they need to do?”
I said, “Knuckles, do you have optics inside the building?”
“I can see the den of the main house. The men are all gathered around a table. Johan is talking to them.”
“Give me a read.”
“They’re planning, no doubt. Got the headlights of the SUVs. They’re parking. Five men got out. Local nationals.”
I waited, then heard, “A lot of handshaking going on. The locals are pairing up with the assault guys.”
And I knew Shoshana was right. They were going to attack tonight. My hope to develop the situation was going to hell in a handbasket, along with successfully executing my primary objectives. I couldn’t assault the house with a damn company of men waiting down below. Hell, I couldn’t assault the house if it were only the mercenaries, as they outnumbered us two to one, and we certainly couldn’t chase behind them with our bikes.
And there was still no sign of Aaron.
Knuckles said, “The majority of the package is leaving. They’re loading up in the first two SUVs.”
Shoshana said, “We should hit them. Right now. Ambush them when they come back down.”
I seriously considered it, then said, “We do that and we might break up the coup, but we do nothing for Aaron.”
“We capture one of them. Take him alive.”
“We don’t have the time to plan an assault like that. We’ll just end up in a running gun battle. We’ll be lucky to escape with our lives.” The words were no sooner out of my mouth than we saw the headlights bouncing down the road, the rain now a light drizzle. They raced by us, and I said, “Knuckles, what’s up there now?”
“Looks to be Johan and two locals.”
I waited for the SUVs to reach the field, then said, “Brett, what’s happening?”
“They’re loading up. Four of the lorries are turning around.”
“Where are the white guys? What are they doing?”
“They’ve split up. Two to a truck. They left the SUVs behind.”
Shit. They were going on the attack, moving much, much quicker than I thought they would have. I’d misjudged them.
“They’re leaving the field.”
“Knuckles, what’s Johan doing?”
“Johan just rolled up a map. Looks like they’re leaving as well in the final SUV.”
I stood up, breaking down our little hooch. I said, “Veep, Veep, are the first four trucks gone?”
“Yeah. They’re clear.”
Shoshana stood with me, saying, “What are you doing?”
I raced around the building to where we’d stashed our bikes. I withdrew my long gun from its sleeve, saying, “Following your plan. We’ve only got one SUV to contend with, and the guy inside it is the one who captured Aaron.”
She flashed her wolf smile, and I said, “I’ll take front tires. You take rear tires. Do not kill Johan.”
She nodded, then said, “There’s still a lorry full of soldiers down at the field.”
I said, “We’re shooting suppressed. We do this right and they’ll never know.” I turned on my holosight as she pulled her own weapon. I said, “You post up here; I’m going to the end of the building. I’ll shoot the tires the minute he’s parallel to you; you hit the rear as he rolls by.”
I got on the net, saying, “All elements, all elements, we’re going to ambush Johan’s vehicle. Blood, Veep, keep eyes on that truck full of soldiers. Tell me if they react. Knuckles, Koko, give me trigger. When the vehicle’s gone, break down the hide and crack that house. Get it ready for reception.”
I heard nothing for a second, I’m sure their brains processing the absolute insanity of what I’d said.
I took a knee at the end of the building and aimed up the road, past Shoshana’s position, saying, “All elements, you copy?”
“This is Veep. We copy.”
“This is Koko, copy. Vehicle is leaving now. I say again, vehicle is leaving now.”
Two minutes later I saw the headlights bouncing down the treacherous mountain road. It reached the intersection with the asphalt lane we were on and turned toward us. I would have to guess at where the tires were located due to the glare, but luckily, the gravel track was so pitted that the SUV couldn’t do more than ten miles an hour on it, which meant he wouldn’t be able to accelerate to much faster than thirty when he passed me on the asphalt. It wasn’t like he was driving a sports car.
He came parallel to the far edge of the building, where Shoshana was located, and I started firing controlled pairs, pinging first the left, then the right, then back to the left, shooting where I thought the tires would be. I saw a muzzle flash behind the vehicle and knew Shoshana was doing the same, but it appeared to have no effect.
The SUV passed my position, and I pulled my weapon, hiding against the brick and holding my breath. It didn’t take long. The vehicle skidded to the left. The driver overcompensated and the SUV jerked hard to the right, the right two wheels sliding over the embankment on the far side of the road.
It wasn’t a long drop, but it was enough to cause the SUV to roll over. I sprang from my cover, my weapon raised, racing across the road, seeing Shoshana doing the same. She reached the embankment before me. I heard a shot ring out, then saw Shoshana drop to the ground. I thought the worst had happened, but then she returned fire.
I crested the rise and saw a local national crawling out a window, the truck upside down. He fired a pistol, and Shoshana’s rounds slapped him up against the door, his life-force mixing with the rain. I sprang down the embankment, and another man rose on the far side. The other local. All I could see was his head, and he was looking toward Shoshana. I couldn’t see his hands but had to assume he had a weapon.
