Circle of Death - Strike Back Series 05 (2020)

by Ryan, Chris

  ‘I doubt it, mate. But you can show me how good you are at shooting in a straight line.’

  ‘I’d tread real careful, friend. You don’t want me as an enemy.’

  ‘I’m yanking your chain, you daft prick.’

  Porter glanced at Hulk. ‘You’re all ex-SEALs?’

  ‘We were in the Unit,’ the latter said.

  ‘You mean Seal Team Six?’ asked Bald.

  Hulk nodded. ‘Bobby’s a little younger, but Brendan and myself fought alongside each other for the best part of ten years. Guess you could say we’re blood brothers. Been through a lot together.’

  ‘Hell, yeah.’ Dudley grinned. ‘Taught those Arab sumbitches a few lessons they won’t never forget.’

  Bald’s eyes drifted towards the maps on the trestle table. He craned his neck to get a closer look. There was a detailed map of Venezuela, and a series of black-and-white photographs of the president. ‘What’s going on here?’ he asked.

  ‘Background report,’ said Taylor. ‘I’m bringing the others up to speed.’

  The CIA man glanced furtively at Hulk.

  ‘That’s right.’ Hulk tipped his hat at his comrades. ‘See, Brendan and Bobby are late additions to the group. Had to take the place of two other guys at short notice. Wasn’t no time to brief them before heading out.’

  ‘What happened to the other blokes?’

  ‘They had to shoot off to Europe. A business thing.’

  Porter said, ‘What’s the plan?’

  Taylor glanced at his watch. ‘Get yourselves settled in while I finish briefing these fellas. I suggest you put up your shelters and grab something to eat, tend to any personal stuff. Report back here in an hour for a detailed briefing. I’ll explain everything then.’

  ‘Roger that.’

  The three ex-SEALs returned to their laptops. Taylor wandered off down the camp, his smartphone pressed to his ear as he spoke to someone on the other end in a low tone. Bald and Porter wheeled away and headed back towards the accommodation area.

  As they trudged down the mud-slicked track, Porter glanced back over his shoulder at the meeting house. ‘What was all that stuff about their mates being tied up in Europe?’

  ‘I’m past caring,’ Bald said. ‘We’re here now. That’s all that I give a shit about. One last mission, then I’m done with Six.’

  ‘It’s never that easy,’ Porter muttered.

  ‘This time it is. Once this is over, I’ll have a nice big office, running a security company, counting my millions. Some other mug can do the grunt work for a change.’ He grinned. ‘Who knows? Maybe I’ll give you a job, mate.’

  ‘Fuck off, Jock.’

  SIXTEEN

  They left the meeting house and headed off to set up their hammocks. Uribe directed them towards a quiet area of the camp, away from the other dens and shacks. As much privacy as they could be given, in the confines of a jungle camp. They basha’d up and grabbed refreshments from the camp cookhouse. Warm bottles of Fanta, chunks of bread and fresh vegetables. Porter grazed at his food and sent a message to Strickland, confirming that they had arrived at the camp. A few minutes later, Porter got a three-word reply from Strickland. Keep me posted. At exactly 14.00 hours they left the cookhouse and wandered back over to the meeting house for the briefing.

  Taylor was waiting for them inside. The CIA man stood in front of the noticeboard, his flabby arms folded across his chest as he watched the gang take their places around the trestle table. There were several satellite photographs and detailed maps laid out in front of them, plus half a dozen tablets and laptops connected by a series of extension leads to a whirring outdoor generator. Bald and Porter took up a bench on one side of the table. Hulk, Dudley and McGee sat down opposite. Then Taylor cleared his throat and began the briefing.

  ‘I’ve just been talking with Langley,’ he began. ‘Colonel Gallardo has heard from his contact inside Venezuela. The lieutenant. The latest word is that Fuller will be transferred from prison to Vasquez’s private estate in the next couple of days. He’ll let us know as soon as she’s on the move. Until then, you will wait here in a holding pattern and train for your mission. Shouldn’t be more than a day or two, gentlemen.’

  ‘That doesn’t give us much time to prepare,’ Porter said.

  ‘Can’t be helped, fellas. Langley’s orders. You need to move out as soon as we know that the hostage is being transferred.’

  ‘Why the rush?’ asked Hulk.

  ‘It’s for her own safety. Once the hostage arrives at the mansion, Vasquez will put his personal interrogators to work. God knows what they’re going to do to her.’ He nodded at Bald and Porter in turn. ‘I appreciate you guys are very anxious to get her out of there. The sooner we move in, the less time Vasquez and his cronies have to work on her.’

  ‘We need more time to plan the op,’ Bald said. ‘Two days isn’t enough.’

  ‘Tough. This is all you’re getting.’

  ‘Thought you SAS boys were used to going in at short notice,’ said Dudley. ‘Flying by the seat of your pants, kicking down doors. Isn’t that how you guys roll?’

  ‘In Iraq, aye. But this is different. We’re going deep into unknown territory, with no backup and attacking a heavily defended stronghold. If we don’t plan this properly, it’ll be a clusterfuck.’

  ‘Sounds like we got ourselves a couple of Brit pussies, boys,’ McGee cracked.

  Bald stared daggers at the Bostonian. ‘I didn’t know the SEALs were in the habit of recruiting fucking idiots.’

  Taylor stepped forward, holding up his hands in a peace-making gesture. ‘Easy, guys. We’re all on the same team here. No need to get anybody’s back up.’

  ‘It’s all good,’ said Hulk. ‘Bobby here was just fooling around. Right, Bobby?’

  McGee glowered at Bald, his wax-like face twitching with hatred. ‘Right.’

  Taylor waited for their tempers to cool and said. ‘There’s another problem.’

  ‘There’s a fucking surprise,’ Bald muttered under his breath.

  Taylor ignored him as he went on. ‘According to Gallardo’s contact, there’s talk of a large-scale military presence being transferred to the military base. His most loyal soldiers.’

  ‘How many?’

  ‘Two hundred men. Possibly more. Seems Vasquez is worried about the unrest spreading across the country and wants reinforcements in case his regime is toppled.’

  ‘Any idea when they’re due to arrive?’ asked Hulk.

  ‘Four days from now, we think. But that’s only a calculated guess.’

  Dudley said, ‘Let’s hope they don’t get there before the hostage arrives. Otherwise we’ll be blundering into a fucking suicide mission.’

  ‘It’s beginning to sound like that already,’ Bald growled.

  Taylor gave him a hard stare. ‘We consider that highly unlikely. But the timings are very tight.’

  ‘What’s the situation, once we know Fuller is on the move?’

  ‘As soon as our people have confirmation, you’ll leave the camp for the border. Two of Commander Uribe’s men will lead you to the crossing point. You’ll cross the river by boat, near the town of San Vicente, eight miles from your present location.’

  McGee said, ‘What happens if we run into border guards?’

  ‘Uribe has assured me that won’t happen. Border security outside the major checkpoints is non-existent. You’ll be taking an established route for trafficking product into Venezuela, for onward export to the West. The guerrillas control a number of such routes along the border.’

  Porter sat forward, the lines above his brow forming a deep V. ‘You’re suggesting we rely on drug smugglers to help us across the border?’

  ‘You have a problem with that?’

  ‘Not us,’ Bald replied, giving his mucker a look. ‘It’s all gravy. Go on.’

  ‘Once you’ve crossed the border, you’ll RV with a local contact and collect your vehicle. Then you’ll head directly to the stronghold.’
r />   Taylor reached for the map of Venezuela and tapped his finger at a point to the west of Caracas, thirty miles or so due south of the Caribbean coast.

  ‘Vasquez’s private residence is located here, north of a town called Los Altos. Seventy miles south of the capital. He’s got himself a luxury spot right next to a mountain. Beautiful views, an infinity pool, underground car park. His own army of chefs and maids. We’re talking seven-star facilities, in the middle of one of the poorest parts of the world.’

  ‘Who else knows about this place?’

  ‘Outside his inner circle, almost nobody. The residence isn’t one of his official residences. It used to belong to a former general in the military. He was secretly running one of the biggest cartels in the country. Made hundreds of millions and owned this place, in addition to properties in Miami and Barbados.’

  ‘Lucky him,’ Bald remarked.

  ‘For a while. His luck ran out when he backed the wrong side in the coup. Vasquez had the general executed and confiscated his property. Including this place.’

  ‘How far is it from the Colombian border?’ asked Hulk.

  ‘Five hundred miles. An eleven-hour drive.’

  Taylor turned his attention to one of the satellite photographs. Bald, Porter and the others crowded round for a closer look. The mansion was situated on the edge of a wide fertile valley encircled by mountains. Further to the north, immediately beyond the property, the land rose up towards a high peak. Four miles to the south, on the other side of the valley floor, was a line of low broken hills. A gravel track ran from the entrance on the southern side of the residence, past uncultivated fields, towards a junction at the main road, two miles away. The town of Los Altos was located to the east of the estate, three miles further along the main road.

  The mansion was huge. There was a main residence enclosed by a security fence and a guardhouse, with towers on all four corners and several outlying buildings to the rear. Plus a luxury garden and a pair of tennis courts and a private lake looking out across the mountains. There was a gully near to the road junction, a mile and half south of the entrance, Bald noted, and a hillock a few hundred metres from the stronghold.

  ‘What’s the deal once we get there?’ he asked.

  ‘You’ll make your way to a first RV at the road junction. From there, you’ll debus and move forward into the gully and establish a lying-up point. Then you’ll wait for the signal to move into striking distance and begin the assault. You’ll go in before first light.’

  Hulk scratched his beard as he studied the photograph. ‘How well defended is this place?’

  ‘Very. As you might imagine, Vasquez is a deeply paranoid individual. Especially since the failed assassination attempt. The residence is rigged up with infrared cameras, motion detectors, a sophisticated alarm system and a two-metre-high steel fence. Towers on all four corners, with security cameras overlooking the approaches.’

  ‘What about manpower?’

  ‘There’s a permanent security detail based at the stronghold. Twelve guys. Plus six men from the Presidential Guard. Vasquez’s personal bodyguard. Eighteen in total.’

  ‘So what you’re basically saying is, this place is tighter than a duck’s arse.’

  ‘If you want to put it that way.’

  Bald puffed out his cheeks. ‘Going to be hard to get her out of there.’

  ‘I agree,’ Hulk said. ‘This is some real skin-of-our-teeth shit, Taylor. You’re not leaving us with a lot of options.’

  Taylor mopped his sweat-lathered face and shrugged. ‘It is what it is.’

  ‘Where’s the package?’ asked Porter.

  ‘According to our source, there’s a prison cell in the basement. Vasquez likes to keep his political enemies captive there. Have himself some fun with them. We believe Fuller will be held in that cell.’

  ‘Will the president be there, when we go in?’

  ‘We don’t know. But our guess is he won’t arrive until the hostage is in place and ready to interrogate.’

  ‘One thing’s for sure,’ Bald said as he ran his eyes over the photos.

  ‘What’s that?’ Dudley asked.

  ‘We can’t sneak into the stronghold. Not if the place is rigged up to the eyeballs. We’ll have to go in noisy.’

  Hulk grinned. ‘My thoughts exactly, brother.’

  Porter said, ‘We’ll need to identify possible entry points. Any armoured glass windows, any reinforced doors, strong rooms.’

  ‘You’ll find all that contained in your briefing packs. Satellite pictures, 3D renderings of the estate, architectural drawings. We’ve also included a report from one of the colonel’s contacts. A guy who used to work on the president’s bodyguard detail. He knows the layout inside out. That should cover any questions you might have.’

  ‘Sounds like you lot have thought of everything,’ said Bald.

  ‘We’re here to provide as much assistance as possible. Orders from the very top. They want you to have the platinum service on this one.’

  ‘To help us rescue some British researcher?’

  ‘That’s what the chiefs want.’

  Porter studied the satellite image for several moments. He pointed to a separate cluster of buildings situated roughly a quarter of a mile to the east of the mansion, two miles from the town.

  ‘What’s this area?’ he asked, tapping a finger on the map.

  ‘Venezuelan army barracks,’ said Taylor.

  Bald looked dumbfounded at the CIA officer. ‘There’s a barracks right next door to his residence?’

  ‘It’s no big deal.’

  ‘I’d say it fucking is. How many soldiers?’

  Taylor glanced quickly at Hulk before replying. ‘Four platoons. Between thirty-two and forty guys, total. It’s a small base. Cookhouse, accommodation block, armoury and an electrical substation. But also extremely well defended. Automatic doors, reinforced gates, blast-proof walls. Place is like a miniature fortress.’

  ‘Why all the high-grade defences for a small base?’

  ‘It’s for the benefit of the president. If he finds himself under attack, he can flee to the safety of the base.’

  ‘How are we supposed to pull this thing off with an army barracks up the road? Even if we’re in and out of the stronghold in a few minutes, it’ll sound the alarm at the base.’

  ‘It’s covered. We’re taking care of it.’

  ‘How?

  ‘That’s not for you to worry about. The soldiers won’t be an issue.’

  ‘No offence, pal, but we’ve heard that before. We’re going to need more reassurance than that.’

  ‘Our people have got a plan. We’re creating a distraction. That’s all you need to know.’

  ‘Fuck off. You’re asking us to go into an area crawling with troops. We’ll never make it out of there alive.’

  ‘The barracks won’t be a problem. You have my word.’

  ‘This is a bag of bollocks,’ Bald said, rising from the bench. ‘I’m not getting myself dropped for the sake of some think-tank nerd.’

  ‘You can’t walk away.’

  ‘Watch me.’

  ‘Where are you going to go, buddy? Look around. You’re in the middle of nowhere. Not as if you can just hail a cab back to your hotel.’

  ‘I’ll get one of the simpletons to take us back. One of the Mendoza kids.’

  ‘They’ve left already. You’ve got no way out of here.’

  Bald said nothing.

  ‘Quit now, and you’ll regret it,’ Taylor added. ‘You’ll be turning down the opportunity of a lifetime.’

  Bald stopped and looked round. His expression tightened. ‘What the fuck are you talking about?’

  Taylor smiled wickedly. ‘We know about your deal with Vauxhall. The security business. Walk away, and you can forget about it. Deal’s null and void. But if you stay, you’ll be making a friend of the Company for life. That will lead to some business opportunities, down the line. We can open up a lot of doors.

 
‘You have a choice,’ he added. ‘Work with us, and good things will happen. But you really don’t want to make an enemy of the Company. We’ll ruin your life.’

  Bald hesitated. He wondered about the plan. He wondered how the fuck the Americans were confident of tying down a couple of hundred foreign soldiers, from thousands of miles away.

  ‘This diversion had better be watertight,’ he said.

  ‘It is. One hundred per cent. You have my word.’

  Bald gritted his teeth as he weighed up the odds. He thought about his arrangement with Vauxhall. The private security business. He figured Six might toss him a few bones, a couple of decent contracts here and there. Enough to tide him over, keep the business ticking along. But with the CIA on his side his prospects would be a hell of a lot brighter. He could make millions. After years of being a Regiment outcast, Jock Bald would finally be minted. He’d be rolling in cash.

  Leave now, the voice told him, and the best you can hope for is a job working the doors of a Hereford boozer.

  You’ll spend the rest of your days living in shite digs and breaking up fights between pissheads outside the Nag’s Head.

  He sighed heavily. Sat back down on the bench. Taylor nodded at him, looked at the other faces sitting around the table.

  He said, ‘So. Once you’re in position at the gully, you’ll wait for confirmation that distraction is ready to deploy. We won’t authorise the assault until then.’

  Bald said, ‘How long will that take?’

  ‘Hard to say. The distraction is being handled by another team. They have their own protocols. It will be before first light. That’s as much as I can tell you.’

  ‘It had better not be any later than that. We’re going to be badly exposed in that gully.’

  ‘Shouldn’t be a problem. The estate is three miles away from the nearest town, Los Altos. There’s no police in that area. No military patrols.’

  ‘I ain’t interested in the military. It’s the civilians that worry me.’

  McGee cracked a smile and jerked a thumb in Bald’s direction. ‘Check this guy out, fellas. Mr SAS here is scared of a few locals.’

  Porter caught sight of the vicious look on his colleague’s face and stepped in before Bald lost his temper.