Hellfire- The Series, Volumes 1-3

by Leigh Barker

“We’re bugged!”

  Loco was framing the question as Smokey stood on the brakes, with the rest of the squad already pushing open the doors.

  “What?” Loco said.

  Winter pulled open the door and dragged Loco from the vehicle. “Move. Now.”

  Loco didn’t need telling twice, he knew that tone, and it meant trouble coming. He started up the slope towards the rocks, stopped and looked back to see Gunny standing by the Land Rover with his arms folded and staring at him as if he expected some other action.

  Loco flinched and returned to the vehicle without looking at the sergeant, opened the rear door and grabbed the weapons. He tossed the submachine gun to Smokey, who was grinning at him like the kid not caught in the teacher’s gaze, then handed out the M16s to the rest of the unit before lifting out his sniper rifle as if it were a newborn. Missile or no, this was the tool of his trade and he treated it with respect. Or it would retaliate by getting him killed. It was just the way of things. Everybody knows weapon gods are fickle and vain.

  “Can we go now?” Smokey asked.

  Gunny glanced at the southern sky. “My years of combat training tells me that your suggestion is valid.”

  Nobody moved.

  “Yes,” Gunny said, shooing them forward. “Run away.”

  Smokey and Loco scrambled up the hill away from the road, and Winter followed, stopping for a moment to make sure Andie was managing her laptop, backpack, and M16, without making it obvious he was keeping an eye out for her. Women don’t like being looked after. Times had changed.

  “We could look for the tracker,” Gunny said as Ethan checked the Land Rover to make sure nothing vital had been left behind.

  Ethan walked past him. “Be my guest.” He followed the others up the hill. “I’ll notify your next of kin.”

  “You are my next of kin,” Gunny said, still looking back at the vehicle and thinking about the long walk.

  “Then I’ll say a few words at your funeral,” Ethan said. “Though we’ll be burying a jar of what’s left of you.”

  “Good point,” Gunny said, and strode after him, throwing quick looks at the horizon.

  He caught up with Ethan as he passed Loco at the top of the rise, his hand shading his eyes as he scoured the sky for whatever it was coming their way. Ethan and Gunny exchanged a long look, and Gunny stopped.

  “How far you think that vehicle is?” Gunny said.

  Loco changed his focus and squinted at the Land Rover. “Sixty-five yards.”

  Gunny didn’t doubt that for a moment. Loco was a sniper, and accurate judgement of distance came with the label. He turned and walked away. “What’s the blast radius of a Hellfire?”

  Loco didn’t need to think about it. “Twenty yards, give or take.”

  “So you’re safe there. That’s okay, then.” Gunny stepped up his pace.

  Smokey watched him go for a second then followed quickly. “Marines say hundred twenty yards to be safe. Minimum,” he said over his shoulder.

  Loco continued to watch the sky. “The brains who came up with that never saw a Hellfire in action. It’s a precision weapon.”

  He lowered his hand and looked back at the unit moving away down the other side of the hill and shook his head. What was the hurry? They were well clear. Blast twenty yards, shrapnel maybe another ten. Well clear. Except for the hearing damage and blindness. He took a quick step back, turned and walked away quickly. Then jogged. And ran. Hearing was a good thing, and eyesight, especially for a sniper, is way up there on the good-to-have list.

  They didn’t see or hear the Reaper flying thousands of feet above them, but they heard its ordnance arrive. The Land Rover disappeared in a blinding flash, turned to scrap metal, and rained down across the road. Shrapnel punched into the ground where Loco had been standing, proving Gunny right yet again.

  Ethan kept walking. He’d seen drone strikes before, and this one was on the other side of the hill, so nothing to see here. The rest of them stopped and looked back at the plume of smoke rising into the empty blue sky.

  “You watch western movies?” Ethan said without turning.

  “Yeah, sure,” Smokey said. “Audie Murphy’s cool. Why?”

  Winter and Gunny walked on without speaking, and Smokey and Loco frowned at each other and mouthed westerns.

  “Then you’ll know Indians see campfire smoke and come a-hooting and a-scalping,” Winter said, and suppressed a grin at the galvanizing effect his words had.

  “Shit,” Smokey said, looked again at the smoke rising like a beacon for anyone within twenty miles to see, and slapped Loco on the shoulder. “Move out.”

  Loco was already moving out. The western reference had worked just fine for him.

  They followed Ethan as he worked his way through the moonscape of boulders and fissures in the ancient rock, then cut left and circled back to emerge a few hundred yards up the road from the hole that used to be their ride.

  “Where we heading, Gunny?” Smokey said, deliberately not looking at the Indian smoke signal.

  Gunny shrugged. “Ask Top; it’s his gig.”

  Smokey glanced at Ethan standing on a flat boulder and staring at the northern horizon with an expression that said do not disturb, and changed direction. “I’ll ask Winter.”

  “Right,” Loco said, joining him. “Winter’ll know; he knows everything.”

  Winter was taking a pee against a rock and looked back as they approached. “Let me finish commenting on your ability as marines and I’ll be right with you.”

  Loco and Smokey stopped walking.

  “I think he’s talking about you,” Smokey said.

  Before Loco could answer, Winter zipped up, turned and walked past. And wiped his hand on Loco’s shoulder. Another comment on their military ability.

  Ethan looked at the smoke from the remains of the Land Rover. The only people in the area with the capability to launch a drone strike was the air force. The US Air Force. They were supposed to be on the same side. Orpheus was behind that little early view of hell. He had no illusions as to what money could buy in this man’s world, but that Orpheus had gone to all this trouble was telling.

  He turned back and watched the clouds scudding across the mountains that stretched into the far distance like crumpled copper in the afternoon sun.

  Their actions had rattled someone’s cage big time. The hit man could’ve been a reaction to them scuppering the plans for the spaceship sale, but a drone strike halfway across the world was a whole lot more serious. It looked like they’d truly pissed someone off. Nothing new, but the reaction was way out of proportion.

  It had started with the spaceship. No, before that. A thought that had been buzzing around in the back of his mind got its fifteen minutes of fame. Why had the Jap CIA man helped them out in Bolivia? There was nothing in it for him or his agency, and the CIA weren’t famed for playing nice with others. They mostly let the shit hit the fan and stepped in to grab the prize while everybody was shouting and screaming.

  He stepped off the boulder and sat on it.

  Something bigger than taking down an arms dealer was going on.

  He was used to being shot at, usually by the enemy, and for the brass to be making stupid plans to speed his demise, but this felt different. More personal. Orpheus wanted them gone. Question was, why? Not just because they were on his case; he’d have to terminate every agency in the country if he was touchy about that.

  He looked up. Loco was standing there looking like a kid about to snitch on his brother.

  “Top,” Loco said, “Winter tells us we’re heading for the Hindu Kush Mountains.” He frowned. “That right?” He looked back at the others sorting out their gear and packing ammunition into their backpacks. “I say how does he know that if you haven’t told us?” He shook his head. “And the Kush is, what, five hundred miles that way.” He pointed north and then shook his head. “So no way we’re walking there.” He started back towards the group. “Thanks for that, Top. Good to get thin
gs straight.”

  Ethan looked past him at Andie sitting on a boulder with her legs tucked up and the computer on her knees and completely oblivious to the rest of them. What is it with young people and technology? He watched her fingers skipping over the keyboard. The answer was easy. Online they can be whatever they want to be, out in the world they can only be who they are. And that can be hard work. Technology had all the answers and none of the solutions. That little box she had on her knees knew everything about everything, had all the data in the world right there, just limited by knowing what questions to ask. Without it they wouldn’t have found out about the spaceship and the North Koreans. Or about Orpheus. But that didn’t matter because without that kid, they’d still be in the Land Rover. Smeared on the Land Rover.

  Orpheus was trying to squash them, but that didn’t make any sense. If he wanted them out of the picture, he just had to have the mission scrubbed, and he could do that with a phone call. But he’d sent a Hellfire missile instead. That was more noise than an organisation like his would want. Unless the price was worth it.

  He looked again at the smoke and stood up. He wasn’t going to find the answer sitting there, and they’d waited long enough. If the spook had intended turning up to check the result, he’d have been there by now. That he planted the tracker wasn’t even worth the thinking. But he wasn’t thorough enough to come take a look. So their new 4Runner wasn’t coming.

  The others were on their feet and ready to move. Ethan tapped Andie’s foot and wrenched her out of her world with a start.

  “We’re moving out.”

  She snapped the computer closed and pulled her backpack onto her shoulders. Ethan reached over and straightened a twisted strap.

  “We heading for Hindu Kush, Top?” Winter said, and glanced at Loco.

  “The Kush is north,” Ethan said. “Yeah, we’re heading north.”

  Loco stepped forward quickly. “That’s six hundred miles, Top. We can’t walk six hundred miles.”

  “You’re a marine,” Gunny said.

  “I am, ever since the judge pointed out what a great life it is,” Loco said.

  “Then Top says walk six hundred miles, we walk six hundred miles.”

  “And run the last hundred,” Winter said, joining Gunny and Ethan as they headed out along a narrow trail.

  Andie followed them through the house-high rocks, and Loco caught her arm as she passed.

  “He’s kidding, right? We’re not going to the Kush.”

  Andie shrugged. “I heard we’re heading for a mountain retreat not far from here. Got a Holiday Inn and MacDonald’s and a pool.” She looked at his hand on her arm and walked on when he snatched it away.

  Loco grinned at Smokey. “See that? The kid got that from her computer. MacDonald’s and a pool. Cool.”

  Smokey glanced at him for a moment and pushed past without a word.

  They walked in silence for the next hour, concentrating on keeping their footing on the narrow, rocky trail through the mountains. Gunny was point and ahead fifty yards or so, far enough to be out of sight among the boulders.

  Ethan saw Gunny coming back down the trail and unslung his M16. Trouble was coming, but he always knew it would, right from the moment SecNav’s people had told him to scoot over to Pakistan and have a look-see.

  The rest of the unit followed his lead and checked their weapons. Andie’s weapon of choice was a computer, but she carried an M16 just like the others. Even if she didn’t really feel that easy with the thing. They waited for Gunny and looked around carefully for any sign of what had spooked him.

  Gunny nodded towards the trail. “We’ve got company.”

  “How many?” Ethan said.

  “How many rebels are there in this part of the world?”

  “Not many. A few hundred maybe, on a good day.”

  “Well, it’s a good day, because they’re all here.”

  The others visibly tensed and moved off the trail and into the rocks.

  “Have they seen us?” Ethan said.

  “No chance,” Gunny said, turning to look back along the trail. “Funny thing, though, they seem to know just where to look.”

  “Yeah, funny thing,” Ethan said. “Same funny thing as our ride being bugged.”

  “Somebody doesn’t like us,” Winter said, joining them.

  “Don’t think it’s us,” Gunny said, and nodded towards Ethan.

  Winter smiled for a nanosecond. “Can’t be Top; everybody loves Top.”

  “Except officers,” Gunny said.

  “True,” Winter said, frowning. “And politicians.”

  “And pen-pushers,” Gunny added.

  “And—”

  “Okay,” Ethan said, “I get it. Everybody hates me.”

  “Not everybody,” Gunny said. “We think you’re…” He frowned at Winter. “What’s that word for it?”

  “A pain in the ass?” Winter said.

  “Never met a master sergeant that wasn’t a pain in the ass,” Gunny said. “I was thinking that Top picks up his tab at the bar, so can’t be all bad.”

  “Shall we move someplace else?” Ethan said. “Or shall we just stand here with our dicks in our hands and wait for the Taliban to come boiling over the hill?”

  “We should head over to MacDonald’s,” Winter said, and looked back down the trail. “Loco knows where there’s one nearby.”

  Ethan wasn’t listening; he was looking at each of them in turn as if searching for something that shouldn’t be there. “The spook bugged the Land Rover,” he said, almost to himself. “Chances are he bugged us too, just in case we did what we did and avoided the drone.”

  Loco saw Ethan looking right at him and shook his head. “I would know if he’d stuffed a bug into my shorts.”

  “He wouldn’t need to,” Ethan said. “He gave you that.” He pointed at the rifle case hanging off Loco’s shoulder.

  Loco unslung the M40 and held it out at arm’s length as if it might bite him. “You think there’s a bug in here?”

  “Only place,” Gunny said. “Nowhere to hide one on the M16s or the SMG.”

  Winter stepped up to Loco and relieved him of the rifle bag, laid it on a rock and unzipped it. He felt around inside for several seconds, his fingers probing the seams until he found what he was looking for, turned and held up a tiny silver square.

  Before anybody could comment, they heard someone approaching, a lot of someones by the sound of the stones and rocks clattering off the trail. They all knew what to do without any prompting and slipped back among the boulders, readied their weapons, and covered the approach.

  The sound of stones being kicked out of the way grew louder, and the unit eased themselves into their firing positions and waited, Ethan, Gunny and Winter up front, with Loco back as far as he could get to give him space for his M40 to get into action. To his right, Smokey covered him with his Colt submachine gun. Way at the back, Andie watched the trail through her M16 sights and tried not to think about their chances against a hundred Taliban.

  “Here they come,” Gunny said under his breath and shifted his M16 an inch to the right. And saw the enemy framed in its rear sight. He blinked twice and lowered his weapon. “Goats.”

  “Ya think?” Ethan said, standing up but keeping his weapon pointing at the line of animals coming around the bend in the trail. Just in case they were Taliban sympathiser goats.

  They kept off the trail and watched the animals stroll past without a care in the world.

  “My uncle herded goats,” Loco said as he watched them amble by, and wrinkled his nose at their smell.

  “That the same uncle who got syphilis?” Smokey said.

  “Yeah. He got the syphilis from the goats.”

  Smokey hadn’t asked with any desire for an answer, but that one got his attention, and he turned to face his friend across the trail. “Is that even possible?”

  “Sweet Jesus,” Winter said, looking up to heaven, “you can take me now.”

  “
Your wish is about to come true,” Gunny said, coming quickly down the trail. “The Taliban are going to be all over our asses in no time flat.”

  Winter pulled the tracker out of his pocket, dropped it onto the trail and raised his foot.

  “Belay that,” Ethan said, and scooped the tracker from under Winter’s raised boot. “Those ragheads want something to follow.” He strode after the goats, caught up with the trailing one and pushed the tracker into its oily, tangled hair. He slapped it on the rump to get it moving a bit quicker but could’ve saved his effort. The goat had one speed and he was doing that.

  “Goat’s going that way,” Ethan said, pointing down the trail. “We’re going this way.” He pointed along the trail in the opposite direction to the one the goats had taken.

  “That’s not going to fool them for long,” Gunny said, but grinned anyway.

  “Doesn’t need to,” Ethan said. “Ten klicks this way is the village we’ve come to sightsee at.”

  Winter looked around at the splintered rocks and shattered cliff face. “This is a good place to make a stand.”

  Ethan did the same and came to the same conclusion, but then shook his head. “We should maybe avoid a full-scale firefight in our allies’ backyard.”

  “We allies with the Indians, then?” Smokey said as he fished out another ammunition drum from his pack.

  “Pakistan,” Ethan said and pointed at the mountain. “This is Pakistan. India’s about a hundred yards that way. And yeah, we’re allies with them too.”

  “It’s a crazy world,” Gunny said.

  “Copy that,” Ethan said and set off down the trail.

  “Where we heading?” Loco said to nobody in particular.

  “Khalua,” Winter said as he slung his M16 and followed.

  “How’d he know that?” Loco said and pushed his sniper rifle back into its case.

  “Sergeant Winter knows everything,” Smokey said. “He’s like one of them oracles from Roman days.”

  “Greek,” Winter said.

  “Who is?” Loco said, shaking his head.

  “Oracles were Greek,” Winter said. “The Romans just stole the idea.” For a moment he thought about explaining further and then gave up on it.