by Dave Edlund
Some rooms seemed to have a scientific orientation. There appeared to be another dissection lab and one large room held multiple examination tables with a scattering of high-tech instruments and microscopes. Another room looked like a hospital emergency care room. It had several patient beds with surrounding drapes hung from a U-shaped track in the ceiling. Jim glimpsed oxygen lines along the wall and monitors for displaying a patient’s vital signs.
With Wong still in the lead, the group left the building into the early-morning air. It was cool, and the fresh air exhilarated Jim. He breathed in deeply, filling his lungs before exhaling.
Wong stopped in front of the door to the next building. This must be the cellblock, Jim thought. As Wong was using his key card to unlock the door, Jim decided it was time to take action. He waited until Wong opened the door and passed through. It was a single door, so his captors would have to pass Jim through, and then follow.
One Homothal grabbed the door before it closed after Wong, holding it open, and motioning for Jim to walk through. Wong had already taken three steps down the corridor.
As soon as Jim passed through the door, he turned swiftly and kicked the door hard, slamming it into the Homothal. Although the door closed, it did not latch. Before the Homothal could regain its balance Jim slammed into the door a second time with all his weight. BAMM! The door locked shut with the two Homothals on the outside.
Wong turned at the noise of the door slamming just as Jim barreled into him, bashing his shoulder into Wong’s stomach, his momentum slamming him into the wall. Wong dropped his rifle.
Jim punched him hard in the face, causing his head to recoil back into the wall. He slumped to the floor, unconscious.
Picking up the rifle, Jim quickly decided not to kill the sergeant fearing the rifle shot would alert more security guards. He grabbed the key card from the sergeant’s breast pocket, and hurried down the corridor.
Jim passed at least a dozen doors, each with a small window protected by steel bars, but he didn’t stop to see what lurked inside. He was nearing the end of the passageway. The door directly in front most likely led to the common area. Since that was where Ming wanted Jim to be released, presumably to be mauled to death by hoards of Homothals, that was the last place Jim intended to go voluntarily.
On the left side of the corridor, Jim spotted a doorway lacking the barred window of the cell doors. Jim tried the door—to his surprise, it was not locked. He entered and saw four tables. Each was large enough to hold a man, and the leather straps on the table suggested that was indeed their purpose. And there, on the last table, was a human body.
Jim walked over and saw that the man strapped to the table was dark-skinned, most likely a refugee. He checked the man’s pulse… still alive. His breathing was strong.
As Jim was loosening the straps the man startled awake, speaking in a language Jim didn’t understand. He continued removing the restraints on the man’s arms and legs.
“I am Commander Nicolaou. Do you speak English?”
The man blinked his eyes, trying to regain focus and concentration. His green eyes seemed to communicate understanding. Jim tried again.
“Do you understand English?”
After a moment the man replied, “Yes, I speak English.” His words were heavily accented and seemed rough. But they could communicate.
“What is your name?”
After a moment, the man answered. “My American friends call me Daniel.”
Jim nodded. “You have been to America?”
“Yes, to Columbia University.”
“Okay Daniel, call me Jim.”
Daniel nodded.
“Where are we Daniel?”
“This is one of the labs. This is where they perform the treatment.”
“We need to find a way out of here and not through the lion’s den either.”
“There is a way out.”
The man raised a shaky arm and pointed toward the back of the lab. Jim ran over to take a closer look at the suggested exit. There he found a supply room. He opened the door and entered. The walls were lined with shelves holding all kinds of lab and medical supplies. The labeling was mostly in Chinese, and he couldn’t read it. Some of the cases were labeled in English, identifying the contents as syringes, gauze packs, and other medical supplies. These probably had been confiscated from the Aid Camps.
As Jim reached the back wall he saw that there was another door. He opened it and found himself standing in a second lab, but this one didn’t have any patient tables.
Instead, there were shelves lining the walls. On those shelves were large glass jars containing various organs—some looked to be human. Various jars contained limbs and heads, presumably preserved in some sort of embalming fluid, maybe formaldehyde. Judging by the sizes, not all were taken from adult natives.
In the center of the room were three tables with cabinets beneath. “Dissection tables,” Jim mumbled to himself.
The air smelled strongly of alcohol. Laid out on white linen towels on a tray at each table were an array of stainless steel medical tools for cutting flesh and bone—scalpels, bone saws, and the like. Jim had no way of knowing that for each new viral infection procedure a dedicated dissection room was established to avoid potential sample contamination.
As Jim was taking all this in, he saw a dark shadow move past the small window in the door opening into the hallway he had just traversed. Like the other rooms he had seen, there was no exit other than to the central corridor. He turned and hurried back to Daniel.
“That just goes back to the corridor. I saw troops coming this way.”
Daniel looked concerned. “There is no other way.”
The outer door burst opened and two Chinese soldiers rushed into the lab. Jim didn’t hesitate. He leveled his weapon and fired two shots, one into each guard. Their rifles clattered to the floor as they fell dead.
Jim picked up the nearest rifle and turned back toward Daniel. “Time for us to leave. Do you know how to handle one of these?” referring to the rifle.
Daniel nodded, and Jim gave him the second rifle. They entered the central corridor. Jim looked both ways before choosing to go back the way he had come. If they could make it out of the building, maybe they could work their way to the perimeter fence, cross through it, and head toward his team on the ridge.
Jim ran down the corridor with Daniel close behind. He expected to see Sergeant Wong’s unconscious body, but it was gone.
They were almost at the door when it opened suddenly. A Chinese soldier, a key card dangling from a lanyard attached to his shirt pocket, stood there in surprise at seeing Jim and Daniel rushing towards him. Behind him stood two Homothals.
The soldier and Jim fired at the same instant. Reflexively, Jim dove to the side of the hallway after pulling the trigger to avoid the shots. It was instinctive; training had drilled the response into him. But Daniel had no such training. Caught off guard, he had stayed in place and died on the spot.
The Chinese soldier went down as well, while the two Homothals cleared the doorway seeking cover outside the hallway. The door slammed shut, locking the creatures outside. Jim hoped that neither of them had a key card.
He turned around and ran in the opposite direction, backtracking, trying to get to the door at the far end of the hallway before the Homothals reached it. Maybe he could still get out of the building and evade capture.
The corridor was long, easily a hundred yards. Jim ran, not slowing to look behind him. If a bullet slammed into his back he would be dead. He just kept running—fearing all the while that the door would be locked or have guards posted to prevent his escape.
Fifteen seconds seemed like minutes. Only ten yards to go. He was going to make it. He was at the door. Breathing heavily, Jim pushed the door open just a bit, enough to see a sliver of open ground. No gunfire, that’s a good sign. He slammed open the door and burst into the early morning dawn.
He quickly looked around… good, no one’s here. Bu
t he had exited into the common area. Looking to his right he saw the gate separating the common area from the general grounds. Jim ran toward the gate.
It was locked securely with a padlock and chain. He pressed the rifle muzzle against the lock, turned his head to avoid eye injury from metal shards, and pulled the trigger. The lock blew apart and the chain clanged loosely against the gate.
Jim deftly removed the remnants of the lock and chain, opened the gate, and continued his rush toward the perimeter fence.
He was close, only three strides away, when he heard the shots and saw the dirt kicked up at his feet. Then the order came.
“Stop! Drop your weapon!”
It was useless. His back was toward the enemy and they could obviously kill him with the next shot. He stopped running and raised his hands.
“Drop the rifle, or the next shot will be through your heart!”
Jim did as he was told and slowly turned to face Sergeant Wong and a collection of Homothals and Chinese soldiers. Admitting defeat, Jim placed his hands on his head.
“I should kill you now,” Wong hissed. “But Colonel Ming has other plans for you.”
Chapter 35
Darfur
June 14 0545 hours
“Colonel Pierson, this is Sergeant Beaumont. We have a situation, sir.” Bull had used his given name rather than his call sign, not certain Colonel Pierson would be familiar with the latter.
“Get to the point Bull.” Bull immediately recognized his error in assuming the Colonel had a faulty memory. In fact, Colonel Pierson had to manage a continual barrage of facts and figures daily, so to him knowing the call signs of his field operatives was a given.
“We engaged an unknown enemy outside the target compound this morning. We took casualties, sir.” Bull hesitated before continuing.
“Coyote is dead and Boss Man is missing. We presume he was captured and is now being held in the compound.” Bull deliberately avoided mentioning the injured civilians—it would take too long to cover the background story so that Colonel Pierson could understand why four civilians and an SLM rebel had been attached to his SGIT team.
Colonel Pierson remained silent. Inside, he was seething. He had created SGIT, and he was responsible for every team member recruited into the elite organization—a responsibility he took personally. He had selected James Nicolaou from a strong list of highly-qualified and experienced candidates, making Jim the first commander of SGIT. Over the years the bond between Pierson and Jim was as close as that between brothers, despite their two-decade age gap.
“I’ve been in communication with Lacey. She has extracted substantial information from those computer files you managed to send out. There is still a lot of data to be deciphered, but what we have learned seems to confirm our suspicions. Portions of the research appears to be brilliant… who would have thought Neanderthals and humans were so closely related.”
“I’m not following, sir.”
“What I’m saying, Sergeant, is that the target compound does indeed appear to be a secret laboratory. Lacey’s team has only just begun to examine the data in those records, but what they’ve seen so far suggests the research involves genetic engineering and human test subjects. That’s all we know right now. However, this supports our suspicion that Colonel Ming is involved.”
Bull brought the conversation back to the topic of his interest—rescuing his commander.
“Sir, I am requesting permission to infiltrate the compound and rescue Boss Man,” Bull paused for effect. “We have reason to believe he is being held and is still alive.” These points were fabricated, but Bull was worried that if he didn’t press the issue Colonel Pierson would not approve the mission.
“Bullshit, Sergeant. You wouldn’t have radioed me if those statements were fact.”
Bull clenched his teeth and squeezed the radio handset so hard his knuckles popped.
“Look,” Colonel Pierson continued. “You do whatever is necessary to retrieve Jim—and by God I pray he is alive. But if not, bring home his body along with Coyote’s for a proper funeral. They each deserve that much.”
“We’ll do that, sir.” Bull felt a flood of relief wash over his emotions, and then he added, “…come hell or high water.”
“I suspect you and your team have a lot of hell still before you. In addition to retrieving Boss Man, your new orders are to destroy that compound. I want all records of their research to vanish—for good. Have I made myself clear, Sergeant?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Good. You will have to improvise. I can’t authorize an air strike on foreign territory. The Chinese and Sudanese governments would be all over the State Department within the hour.”
“What about cruise missiles, sir?” asked Bull.
“Too risky. They would have to fly very low to avoid radar, and if one malfunctions and crashes we’ll have an even bigger public relations fiasco. No, you will have to figure it out. Earn your salary. It’s a laboratory, Sergeant! There have got to be a dozen different ways to blow it up!”
“Yes, sir! The compound is history. All records will be destroyed, sir!”
“Very good. Bull, good luck.”
The next thing Bull heard was a click and the line went dead.
Chapter 36
Darfur
June 14 0548 hours
Bull gathered his team and relayed the key elements of his just-completed conversation with Colonel Pierson. He faced Peter. “You say you can get us into that compound?”
Peter had been staring past Bull. His mind kept replaying the terrible beating he had seen Ethan suffer. The worst part was the irrational guilt that would creep into those thoughts. Peter knew he had done everything possible to protect his son, but it wasn’t enough. The rational part of his mind was slowly losing the argument to the emotional side of his brain.
“Peter?” Bull’s query pulled Peter back to the conversation, his eyes focusing on Bull.
Bull understood what Peter was going through. “Look, you need to focus on the job. Ethan will be okay. Right now he just needs rest so his body can heal.”
Peter nodded. “I’m sorry. You were saying?”
“You have a plan to get us into the compound?”
Peter nodded again. “You put Gary, Todd, and me on a good vantage point with those sniper rifles and lots of ammo. Any target gets in your way, and he’ll meet up with a very big bullet.”
Bull contemplated Peter’s plan. Although Bull knew Peter was not educated as a military tactician, he still recognized talent in the man.
“All right, listen up,” Bull announced. “Here’s the plan.”
All traces of earlier tension between the men vanished; they had a mission to complete.
“We’re going to post snipers on the finger coming off this ridge that reaches closest to the compound. You can see it to the left from atop the ridge. We have four Barrett rifles and enough ammo. I want Homer, Gary, Todd, and Peter on the rifles. We’ll keep Ethan close by, but still and quiet, and as comfortable as possible.”
The four men nodded agreement.
Bull continued. “Ghost and Magnum are going with me into the compound. The rifles are going to clear the path in front of us. Wipe away any threat. We can’t afford to be slowed down engaging any bad guys in a firefight—we have to maintain momentum and speed.”
Todd was skeptical. “That’s going to be a bit tricky, don’t you think? I’ll admit I’m not completely familiar with this landscape, but it must be a thousand yards or more from the ridge finger to the compound.”
Rather than waiting for Bull, Magnum answered. “Probably closer to 1,200 yards if you measure all the way to the nearest building. But those rifles are good out to 2,500 hundred yards. And you boys seem to know how to shoot; I don’t imagine this will be much of a challenge.”
“Magnum’s right,” Bull added. “Besides, the first part of your job will be done when we reach the compound. Once there we will enter the nearest building and begin a rap
id and systematic search for Boss Man. Then we will toast the entire complex. I want the four of you to engage any target within range of Ghost, Magnum, and me. Whether you kill them or not, your job is to keep them pinned down.”
Todd didn’t look convinced, but he knew enough to stay quiet.
Homer added, “The electronic sights on those Barrett rifles are fantastic. You can pick out a moving target, get your scope and take the shot a lot faster than you could with the older scopes. You’ll love it… trust me.” Homer’s grin at the end didn’t do much to alleviate Todd’s concerns.
Peter—his mind now focused on the task at hand—understood the mission’s success depended largely on their ability to hit man-sized targets at a distance much farther than he had ever shot before. Although his brief introduction to the Barrett rifle and electronic scope gave him reason to be confident in the equipment, he could not fully shake his doubt.
The four-man sniper squad would have to remove every threat that came within striking distance of the party—without fail. This was considerably different from an afternoon at the shooting range.
Peter chewed on another worry that he left unspoken. He saw how robust these strange enemy soldiers were. He had personally felt their incredible strength, witnessed their inhumane brutality, and seen the pure adrenaline-charged ferocity that kept them fighting even after being mortally wounded. At least we’ll be shooting big bullets, he thought.
“How do you want us to gear up?” Ghost asked.
“Pack as much weaponry and ammo as you can,” Bull answered. “I suspect we’ll need every bit of it. When the briefing is over, gather up the weapons that were dropped by the two boulders. I figure the fighting will be close, since I have confidence in our four guardian-angels-of-death.” The slight smirk on Bull’s face made Peter wonder if he was trying to convince himself the plan would work, or just trying to improve Todd’s confidence.
