by Dave Edlund
Ethan, Todd, Gary, and Peter all took up firing positions as instructed, allowing eight to ten feet between them. Gary gently eased into a prone position, favoring his wounded shoulder but still showing adequate dexterity.
“Ready, Gentlemen?” Magnum asked. He received a unanimous yes.
“Fire at will.”
Slowly, and one by one, the rifles belched their deadly loads. The report with each shot was truly deafening, but at Magnum’s suggestion everyone had stuffed a small wad of tissue in their ears.
Amazingly, each shot was a hit; not just close hits, but right-on hits.
After each man had fired his ten rounds, the make-shift range became silent. Ethan rolled to his side and looked at Magnum. “The kick isn’t near as bad as I thought it would be.”
“That’s the muzzle break and spring recoil dampeners. They work wonders, I can tell you.”
“That is totally awesome!” exclaimed Gary. Todd also had a huge grin on his face, testimony enough to the impression the weapon system had made on them.
Peter looked to Todd. “Remind me when we’re back in Bend that we need to adapt one of these BORS to our impulse guns. Should be able to extend the accuracy out at least to 1,000 yards, don’t you think?”
Characteristically Todd’s answer was short and direct. “Yep.”
Gary and Todd helped Magnum clean and repack the rifles in their hard cases. The chatter was light, mostly about the BORS optic system. Peter placed a hand on Ethan’s shoulder, and they walked away several yards.
“How are you doing?” Peter asked.
Ethan shrugged. “What can I say. I’m here and we have to do this.”
“You shouldn’t have stayed. You should have evacuated with your friends. This is no place for a—” Peter stopped himself.
“No place for what? A child? I’m not a child anymore Dad.”
Peter forced a smile, but his eyes glistened with anguish. “You’ll always be my son. I know you’re grown up now, but seems like it hasn’t been that many years since you were just a little tyke.” Peter turned his head, forcing back the sadness that felt all consuming. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“Dad, look at me.”
Peter slowly faced his son. He bit his lip, sniffled, and composed himself. He had to be strong, and right now that seemed impossible. “You should have gone home,” he said again, this time his voice tender.
“No, I couldn’t. After all you and your friends and Commander Nicolaou and his team have risked to save me…” Ethan squared his shoulders, choosing the right words before going on. “No, I have to be here. I can’t run away from this; I can’t.”
Peter threw his arms around Ethan, resigning himself to the fact that he had no power to change the situation. Just as when Maggie died.
Jim had been standing well behind the firing line and was impressed by the shooting skills of these men. Although he was not close enough to overhear the private conversation between Peter and Ethan, there was no mistaking the raw emotions. Jim knew this could present problems later on, and he would have to pay close attention to father and son.
Stepping forward his order was clear and concise. “Pack’em up. We’re moving out in two hours. I want to be at the coordinates for this mysterious compound before sunrise. We’ll rest during the day, and tomorrow evening we will see if Colonel Ming has set up a new shop of horrors.”
Chapter 23
Darfur
June 13
Commander Nicolaou’s team was bolstered in number by the new recruits—Peter, Ethan, Gary, Todd, and Hamaad. Whether they could fight or not was another question. Having sent the surviving SLM soldiers out with his own wounded, Jim asked Hamaad to stay with his team. He believed Hamaad could prove useful as an interpreter if they encountered any local residents.
They made good time considering how exhausted some of the men were. An hour before sunrise, they arrived at the coordinates where the satellite photos had indicated the compound was located. The night started out very dark, but a nearly full moon had risen early in the evening and was still hanging low above the horizon at dawn. The air was blessedly cool for the long march, but everyone knew that once the sun rose it would quickly become unbearably hot.
Right now, the first priority was to establish shelter from the merciless sun while remaining out of sight of anyone who might inhabit the compound.
Jim deployed his men on the reverse side of a rocky ridge overlooking the collection of buildings, which lay on a desolate plain below them. The remnants of a dry riverbed wound between the base of the ridge and the structures. A smattering of bushes dotted the riverbed suggesting that water was still to be found beneath the swirled sand and gravel.
The ridge ran roughly from the southeast to the northwest, with the compound about 2,000 yards to the west of the ridge where Jim had chosen to make camp. A collection of shallow caves—really not much more than overhanging rock—provided shelter on the eastern slope of the rocky ridge near the top.
Of course, there would be no campfires and no lights of any type other than as absolutely necessary. It was vitally important to the mission that their location not be detected. By climbing 30 yards to the ridge crest, the SGIT soldiers would observe the target buildings using light amplification scopes at night and standard spotting scopes during daylight.
“All right men, listen up,” Jim said.
“I want everyone to get something to eat and plenty of water. I want you hydrated. The civilians need to get some sleep… you are all on the ragged edge of exhaustion.”
“You’re telling me. I’d swear I was sleep walking the last three miles,” Gary complained.
“Ghost and I will take first watch. We’re Team Alpha. Two hours on, four hours off. I want that compound under constant surveillance. Magnum and Bull, you are Team Bravo; you will relieve Team Alpha. Coyote and Homer, you are Team Charlie; you will relieve Team Bravo. Questions?”
Jim knew his team exceptionally well. Although he always asked if there were questions, he knew there would rarely be any. His men were sharp, motivated, dedicated, and knew the drill.
“Okay then. Remove your communication gear and stow it. Any time you are within ten yards of that ridge…” Jim pointed to the top of the rock ridge from which they would observe the compound, “…no one says a word. Standard hand signals only.”
Each member of the team was equipped with an ear bud and throat microphone connected to a secure, encrypted net that allowed every member of the team to communicate during missions. The head set was voice activated and did not require a free hand to operate. Even though the system was engineered for short-range communication, it did operate on standard but randomly changing radio frequencies. This made it difficult, but not impossible, to detect.
Colonel Ming had escaped surveillance for the better part of two decades, so he was crafty and smart, and although Commander Nicolaou could not be absolutely certain Ming was at this remote base, he wasn’t going to take any chances.
Next, Jim addressed the civilians, who were completely new to military operations. “I know you men like to hunt, and you want to exercise many of the same practices here. If you smoke… don’t. If you need to relieve yourself… do it quietly. Don’t drop anything… don’t talk. Clear?”
s
Ghost and Commander Nicolaou made their way to the top of the ridge just as the sun was beginning to cast a faint glow on the eastern horizon. Just shy of the crest the two men dropped to their bellies and slowly crawled the remaining distance, exercising care to remain very low and to move slowly and with fluid grace, avoiding fast or jerky motions that could possibly be seen even from a great distance.
Since the dawn sky was approaching, and with it a ribbon of purple-red glow low on the horizon, Jim and Ghost each set up a standard optical spotting scope. Its light gathering capabilities and superb optical magnification allowed them to see detail even in the dim morning light. First, they could make out the two tow
ers, triangular in shape. Each tower stood taller than any other buildings in the complex. Jim estimated the roof of each tower was maybe 40 feet above the ground.
The top of the towers were completely enclosed, with recessed shutters over what might normally have been windows. Any ladder or staircase for ascending the towers were not visible, and Jim assumed they were enclosed within the core of the structures.
The main buildings—four of them—appeared to be conventional one-story buildings with flat roofs. Each structure was a simple rectangle about four times longer than its width, all about the same size, and all lined up parallel with the others. They appeared to be constructed of concrete or maybe cement block; Jim could not be certain from their viewing distance. One of the main buildings had two vertical columns projecting upward, not quite as tall as the towers but close. Although Jim wasn’t sure what they were, he thought they resembled smoke stacks or chimneys.
Jim and Ghost noticed that there were no visible lights anywhere at the compound. But they did take note of three generators and two large fuel tanks. Each machine was about the size of a one megawatt generator. Only one of the machines was operating. The size and number of generators caused Jim to wonder what was inside the compound that required so much electrical power.
For all practical purposes the collection of buildings appeared to be deserted. No trucks or cars were parked outside the buildings and not a single person was visible.
As the sun rose daylight spilled across the land, a wire fence surrounding the compound was revealed by the glint of sunlight reflecting off the coiled razor wire stretched along the top of the high fence. It delineated a boundary that was set about 1,000 yards out from the compound’s four buildings. Much closer in, a second fence surrounded an area about the size of a football field adjoining two of the four buildings. Jim surmised this fence was electrified since there was a red light projecting from a pole above the fence.
A single dirt road approached the front of the buildings, and a simple guard shack and gate marked the entry into the facility.
Outside the razor wire fencing a lone vehicle, looking something like a dune buggy, slowly patrolled the perimeter. Jim counted three two-man foot patrols operating a seemingly random pattern. This was the first evidence they’d seen that the complex was inhabited.
Jim and Ghost continued their surveillance in complete silence, each man mentally cataloging the images and details below. Later, in camp, they would share notes and record their observations while the next team continued the surveillance.
Suddenly there was a faint rustle of earth behind Jim. He turned and was face to face with Bull. He nodded as if to say “good morning.”
As his call sign implied, Bull was a beast of a man, so named in recognition of his bulk and strength. Like Coyote, Jim had recruited Bull from the Marine Corps, force recon, which was remarkable because nearly all of the SGIT team had been recruited from the Navy SEALs. A California State Champion wrestler in high school, Bull had turned down a full ride to Notre Dame, preferring to follow his family tradition and earn the moniker of Devil Dog, like his father and uncle before him. In the Corps, he regularly lifted weights in addition to the usual regimen of physical exercise. In training, no one had wanted to spar with Bull because they were always soundly beaten.
The largest and strongest man in the SGIT team, Bull was also considered the most gentle. He was their trusted corpsman, braving bullets and RPGs to render immediate medical aid to his wounded comrades—he had patched up most of the team at least once.
As the hand off was being made, Bull noticed a faint odor. It was peculiar and seemed out of place in the arid landscape. He touched his nose with his right index finger while looking directly at Boss Man. Jim nodded and turned back toward the compound. A faint wisp of grey smoke was drifting up from the left chimney.
Bull and Magnum took up their viewing positions and settled in as Jim and Ghost slowly crawled back from the ridge and down the eastern slope. Once they were certain their bodies were blocked from view, they stood and silently walked the final twenty yards to the camp.
Ghost spoke first. “Did you smell that, sir?”
Jim nodded. “Yes, just as we were leaving. Bull caught it, too.”
“Kind of reminds me of a barbeque, but not a very good one. You know, like the chicken was burned.”
“It was burned alright. But that’s no barbeque.”
Chapter 24
Darfur
June 13
Throughout the morning and into the afternoon Jim’s team determined that the compound closely resembled a prison camp, despite the fact that no prisoners were observed in the fenced yard. In fact, they had seen no one at all except the two-man patrol teams until two military-green trucks arrived. The trucks stopped outside the main gate for a minute, probably for verbal clearance, and then the gate opened by a remotely controlled electric motor.
The trucks entered the fenced compound and stopped outside one of the four main complex buildings. As uniformed guards removed the covers over the beds of the trucks, a dozen men from each truck jumped out and lined up. More uniformed and armed guards appeared from inside the nearest building, suggesting that these men were prisoners, not volunteers. Their clothing suggested they were native tribal men, and none appeared either older than 40 nor younger than about 17 or 18.
The guards marched the men at gunpoint into the building. As the door closed, the two drivers climbed back into the trucks and departed.
“So, that’s what we know,” Jim concluded. He was reviewing the events with his team while also briefing Peter, Todd, Gary, Ethan, and Hamaad. It was late afternoon, and the sun would be setting in an hour or so.
“You said the compound resembles a prison camp. But why aren’t there any prisoners out in the yard? You should have seen some people, even if only for a short time. What is the point of a secured yard if the prisoners are kept locked inside the building?” Todd inquired.
“Perhaps the fence is a second layer of security… you know, in case someone escapes from their cell inside the building?” Bull offered.
“I don’t think so,” Peter added. “In fact, the notion that this is something resembling a maximum security prison makes no sense to me at all. Why here? We’re a long way from anywhere. That compound is designed to be very low key. Whoever built it and runs it doesn’t want the facility to be noticed. There are no marked roads, no signs, nothing.”
Jim nodded agreement.
“And another thing,” Peter continued. “You said there are two large backup diesel generators in addition to the main power generator, right?
“That’s my conclusion since only one generator was running. The other two must be backup,” Jim said.
“Agreed, but why would they require such a high degree of redundancy?”
“Simple. In case the main generator goes down they need power for lights and air conditioning,” Bull answered.
“One backup is good enough for that.”
“Okay. The cells have electric locks and if they lose power they don’t want the prisoners to walk out of their cells,” Bull was not easily giving up the notion that this was a prison.
Peter was shaking his head. “No, that’s not the case at all. A two-dollar lock keeps the cell door closed and secure. Why would anyone use electronic locks on prison cells out in the middle of nowhere… too expensive and, as you pointed out, too unreliable. No, there has to be a better reason for the backup generators. Buying and maintaining that equipment doesn’t come cheap. Those machines are here to make certain they always have electric power—and a lot of it—for some other critical load.”
“If you ask me, they’re running some electrical or electronic equipment—maybe computers or something—that they can’t afford to have go down. Maybe they have a super computer down there; I hear those need a lot of power.” Todd offered.
“Makes a certain amount of sense,” Jim said. “So, the question is: what is the purpose of that comp
lex? I’d bet my paycheck that we smelled burnt flesh this morning as smoke began coming out one of the chimneys. They could have been destroying laboratory animals used in experiments. If this is a bio-lab, then they would want a backup generator to keep sensitive equipment running.”
“Maybe it’s a re-creation of a Nazi concentration camp?” Gary suggested in all seriousness.
Both Jim and Peter turned to look at Gary, a spark of insight flickering in each man’s eyes.
“My God…” Peter’s voice trailed off. He was shocked and horrified by the concept. “Maybe the lab specimens they’re destroying are more than little white rats?”
“There’s only one way to be sure,” Jim replied. “Tonight we’re going to infiltrate that facility, and I will report back to Colonel Pierson what we find.” Jim looked around the men gathered in front of him before continuing. “We’re going in lean—less chance of getting caught. Ghost, you’re in.”
“Yes, sir!”
“And since I don’t have T-Bone and Sulu, that makes you our resident expert on this sort of technology,” Jim said addressing Peter. “I want you along as well.”
“All right”.
“Coyote, Homer—you will be our lookouts from the ridge. I want you in position an hour after sunset.”
“Roger.”
“Everyone grab some chow and rest. It’s going to be another long night,” Jim said as his way of dismissing the troops.
“What about me?” Gary inquired.
Jim turned and stared blankly at Gary.
“You need a computer expert. No offense, but that’s not Peter.”
“None taken,” Peter admitted.
“What makes you think we need a computer expert?”
“You said it yourself. You think there’s critical scientific equipment in that facility—stuff they would use in biological experimentation. Just where do you think all that data is stored? The hand-written laboratory notebook is a thing of the past. If they’re running experiments, they will have terabytes of data stored electronically. It’s going to be password protected and likely even encrypted.”
