Covert Commando: A Sam Harper Military Thriller

by Thomas Sewell

  "PAF?"

  "Philippine Air Force, Ma'am."

  "Of course." She stepped around the table to see what he was talking about.

  "The SAF requested they track a pair of helicopters taking off from the west coast. Included start coordinates. I mapped them."

  He gestured at his screen, where a dot showed on a map of the Philippines. Right at the location of their resort.

  "Crap."

  "Yes, Ma'am. They must know we're here. Probably on their way now, both to here and to wherever the birds land, if they manage to find them."

  "If they're not already outside. They spotted Schnier's pickup somehow. Must have a drone overhead. Can you jam it?"

  "Unless I can find the frequencies it's using, not without cutting off our own communications with a broad spectrum of noise."

  "Wait until we're ready to leave, then do it."

  "Leave?"

  She looked around the room. At the remaining ruins of her mission.

  No time for hesitation. She raised her voice.

  "Okay everybody. Listen up. We've been compromised. In a short time the SAF will come through the resort gates. So shut everything down. Set thermite charges on anything you can't hump out of here.

  Most started moving, used to following orders. The analyst who'd found the message traffic paused. "What about Captain Schnier's mission?"

  "They'll have to abort for now. Meet us on the LCS. We can't support him. You get busy getting us out of here. I'll call him. Give him the bad news."

  How was her boss in D.C. going to react once he found out the SAF located them?

  And even if they slipped away from the SAF, what would happen to Sam?

  * * *

  Larrikowal's team were slowly rotating on and off active surveillance duty. With a wall around the complex, their drone had a better view, anyway.

  He sat back in one of their vehicles, tucked behind brush in a clearing off the road. A monitor in his command truck displayed the unchanging drone view of the complex.

  He'd relieve his senior sergeant in the field once he'd completed his own paperwork. While half his force rested, he listened to his boss on the radio.

  "Your warning to Lubang got a response, but too late to capture anyone."

  "Oh?"

  "A local customs officer spotted a stowaway on the ferry. Gave chase, but lost him among the housing along the shore."

  "Might not be related. Could be a local hitching a ride."

  "Described as a tall, blonde, foreigner. Ring any bells?"

  "One of the counter-snipers. A mercenary killer for hire."

  "Exactly. So what's he doing on Lubang instead of the resort you're at, or on one of those helicopters you've got the air force chasing down?"

  "Good question."

  "I know."

  None of this made sense. High-level contractors or military forces protecting the Speaker. Why would they be on Lubang with the assassins?

  He took a shot in the dark. "Maybe they're all after the other snipers. They shot at 'em in Manila. Disrupted their attack. Wouldn't be a stretch to think they'll continue going after 'em. Maybe the helicopters are meeting him there. Sort of an advance scout."

  "Perhaps."

  A squelch of static burst out of the truck's speakers. If she said anything else, he lost it in the noise.

  The drone feed went dark. Shot down? Something wrong with their electronics on the truck? A busted antenna?

  He rewound the video feed to just before it went dark. A stream of individuals leaving all the huts simultaneously, just a few seconds before they lost contact.

  Enemy action for sure. How did they know they were here? Must've spotted the drone, as unlikely as that seemed.

  But they'd jammed everything in the area, and not for no reason.

  He powered off the radio. No use now.

  Turned to the corporal in charge of the command truck. "Wake everyone up. We're moving in."

  Chapter Thirteen: Captive Flights

  Raven carried a clear plastic pitcher of water and a matching cup with her as an excuse to visit the American prisoner.

  He lay, dressed as a tourist, in seeming meditation on the cold cave floor.

  She still wasn't sure what to make of the fact that her old college boyfriend, Schnier, was in the Philippines. According to Pahk, a soldier. Somehow involved in Omar and Pahk's business.

  Had he been the one to fire at them in the parking garage? Or was that this man here?

  She needed answers, but quietly. She placed her lips near his ear.

  "Wake up."

  He opened his eyes. Glanced around, as if assessing the situation for threats.

  Suspicious, although as a prisoner, he had cause to be. His eyes settled on her face.

  "Raven?"

  Her eyes widened. He knew her name? "So Schnier… Schnier knows I'm here?"

  "Doesn't know. Suspected he might have seen you. Dismissed it as a mirage, but he's been searching for you in his spare time, ever since we arrived here."

  "You are soldiers together? I've lost track of my old life."

  "Rangers. Special Operations. Here to protect the Philippine people from China and terrorists like Omar."

  So he knew Omar's name as well. "Yet you come in secret?"

  He tried to shrug, but the chains turned it into a half-movement. "Sometimes a sheepdog has to help where the wolves are. Can't always just hang out with the flock."

  "Sorry about the chains. Omar's idea." She looked away from him. At the floor. "He uses them for new girls. Ones not properly broken in to the life here. Says it's too dangerous to just let them run free. Unsupervised. Might give away the camp."

  "Do you have any tools? Something to open these?"

  They'd attached his shackles to the chains with a nut and bolt, reinforced by washers and a spot weld. No key. Lack of tools and time limited escape.

  "It's no use. There's a guard outside, at the end of the corridor. Unless you can bore through solid rock, no one leaves this section of the caves without passing him."

  "If we can figure out a way, are you willing to help me escape?"

  Was she? "I… I'm not sure. I can't risk harm to the others."

  "Others?"

  "The other girls. Omar trusts me now. I could've left months ago, except I know he'd punish the others. As long as he's happy, we're safe."

  "What if we could get everyone out?"

  "I've thought about it, but haven't found a way. We all live under guard. They're supposed to keep people out, like a harem, but they're just as much to keep us all in. Omar's favorites, at least."

  "Are they all willing to leave?"

  She thought so. Probably. If this was her chance, she couldn't show doubt. "Why wouldn't they be? Omar mistreats them all. They'd leave, if they could."

  He smiled. "Call me Sam. Find the tools to get me out of these chains. Or at least something we can use as a wrench. Some kind of metal tube. I'll take care of any guards. That's the first two steps covered. Let's talk about the rest."

  Could he really, or was this a false hope, destined to doom them all, rather than save them? Could she trust his confident bravado?

  Fortunately, she didn't need to decide right away. She'd find out more about him, instead.

  She answered his questions by describing the layout of the base. The cavern structure. Where various equipment was located. Where they stored spares. Their food and water supply.

  The multiple paths in and out. Routes up and down the mountain. The waterfall, lake, and river. Plus the fortified lookout post on top of the mountain.

  Sam leaned forward and his eyes narrowed as she described their weapons and traps.

  After she'd given him the lay of the land, he tugged on his chains.

  "Do you have a source for acid? Maybe a tile cleaner? Rust remover? Mold remover? Bar Keeper's friend? Citrus juice?"

  "Omar's armorer uses diluted hydrochloric acid to clean their weapons. We have to buy it for him sp
ecial."

  "Even better. Can you get the undiluted container?"

  "I'll put the container in the pitcher. The guard doesn't check inside."

  "Awesome!"

  Could this work? Might she get out with the other women?

  * * *

  Michelle followed the shadowy outlines of Sam's ranger platoon in the dark.

  They jogged in a loose line. Down the firm part of the beach, the sand recently watered by the sea. Used night vision to remain on course.

  Michelle held diplomatic immunity, so in theory, she could just turn herself into the local police and show her passport. Nothing they could do except kick her out of the country.

  Embarrass her. Maybe even get her fired for causing the State Department to lose face, but not actually hold her.

  But she wasn't about to finish tanking her career without a fight, and that didn't apply to the rangers running with her.

  Behind them, the flames of burning nipa huts filled the sky. She, or rather the agency holding company she'd used to rent the place, would eventually have to pay for the damage to the resort.

  But that was better than leaving top secret equipment and information on their mission behind. Once they began burning it all at high temperatures, there'd been no way to stop the thermite from devouring the wooden flooring and spreading to the roof and wall thatching.

  Normally, they'd at least pile the equipment in the sand, but there'd been no time.

  Schnier and Sam's platoons originally arrived in the dark via rubber boats with outboards. They'd stashed them in a grove of palm trees, covered with foliage, to get them out of sight.

  Besides being slow, there was no reason the remnants couldn't depart the same way. Would take them time to reach the LCS, though. Hours.

  Assuming their remaining fuel held out that long.

  A loud crack, and then a boom as something exploded behind them. She instinctively ducked. Glanced back.

  No immediate danger from burning debris, but the flames silhouetted figures with weapons.

  Had they left in time?

  * * *

  Larrikowal really missed his jammed drone feed. The drone would auto-return to its launch point once it lost communications, but meanwhile, his force moved in blindly.

  They overlapped in pairs to reach the wall surrounding the resort complex.

  With an enemy this disciplined, they couldn't risk an ambush. Besides, where could they really go? No one in the area was going to accept a bunch of strangers with guns in the middle of the night.

  Not without calling the police, anyway.

  Maria reached the wall ahead of him. Gestured to Andre to give her a leg up. Peered over the top. Dropped back down. Reported as he arrived at her side.

  "Flames in the windows. Targets have fled to the beach."

  "They're torching the place?"

  "Appears so."

  "Get someone to call in the… never mind, they've jammed everything. No fire department. Well, hopefully a neighbor will notice and call it in on a land line." He considered the problem. "Actually, Andre, go find a land line and call in what's happened so far. Get them to send the fire department. We'll relay further updates to you."

  Nothing like sounding decisive in the field to boost the troops' confidence in their captain.

  Andre glanced at Maria, as if expecting her to maybe countermand his orders, then took off running when she glared at him.

  Maria turned back to Larrikowal. "Looks like they've abandoned the gates. Undefended. Permission to go blow one in rather than make everyone climb this wall?"

  As usual, she understood the overall situation. Came from more than a decade as an NCO. "Go ahead." The flames reached the roofs, showing above the wall, even from a close angle. "This whole place will be a loss, anyway."

  She jogged around the wall. Collected select SAF members as she went. The ones certified in demo, who habitually carried explosives.

  He followed behind her. Ensured everyone else kept sufficient distance to both not be caught bunched up by surprise, but also not be caught by the impending big boom.

  Maria's ad hoc team set directional charges on the connection points of the resort's gates. Tall wrought-iron barricades, out of place against the stone and wood surroundings.

  Guess they could charge guests more for a fancier looking entrance in their brochures.

  Fiery scene through the front now. Flames devoured each individual building, but they hadn't spread to the foliage yet.

  Just a matter of time, once it dried out.

  Maria stepped back. Got everyone near the gates into cover. Shouted "Fire in the hole." three times.

  Tugged on the detonator.

  Four explosions cracked as one. A boom as the remains of the gate fell over on its side.

  The team on point rushed in. Spread out. Scanned the area for threats.

  Larrikowal and Maria followed more casually. Masters of all they surveyed.

  Which was a group of giant bonfires near the beach, surrounded by a wall. No enemy in sight.

  "Send out the scout teams up and down the beach. Get someone going in our vehicles to search the nearby roads. Send a runner to Andre, have him request piloted air support with infrared, although these fires are going to make that tough in the immediate area. Hell, he can call the navy. Maybe they have a boat nearby which can check the water and the shore."

  Maria nodded. "Roger that."

  "We need to hunt them down. Figure out who they are."

  Even if they weren't truly the enemy, even if the Speaker had hired them as extra protection, they would pay for not only the damages to this resort, but for the risk to his force because they didn't share information.

  And if they were enemy troops, here for some nefarious purpose of their own, he'd ensure they paid double.

  Chapter Fourteen: Captive Collisions

  Schnier didn't want to abort. They were so close. Loaded for tangos. Shooters ready to go. Just offshore Lubang Island. Flying only feet above the wave tops.

  He gestured to the pilot, then remembered his headset. "Hold here. We have a go/no go decision to make."

  The pilot put the Seahawk helicopter into a slow bank. Their second copter followed.

  His men's harnesses kept them in place. The ones seated closest to the doors on the lower side of the tilted deck got a great view of the water.

  The resort was compromised. Sam's MI platoon would be useless as real-time intelligence support, fleeing for their own freedom.

  But Sam was out on that mountain somewhere. Locked up, or worse, laying dead.

  Schnier wasn't always sure their missions were completely legit by local's standards, even when blessed by the highest military authorities back home, but rescuing a buddy, a fellow ranger, that topped his personal righteous priority list.

  But he didn't have only himself to worry about. Independent command hung heavy on his shoulders. He glanced at his fifteen men vibrating inside this bird with him.

  All serious. They knew about Michelle's call. Sam's predicament. Waited for his decision.

  He'd be taking responsibility for dropping thirty rangers into a firefight with very little support.

  Sure, the LCS crew might be able to run a drone for them, try to tag targets, or vector them onto trails, but it wasn't the same as their normal trained hand-in-glove working relationship.

  "Sir, we're going to be bingo fuel in five. Running out of time for both a deployment and return to base."

  As much as he hated to, it was time to pull the plug. They'd refuel, meet up with Michelle and the rest of the rangers, then return.

  At best, a few hours. At worst, until the next night.

  "RTB to the LCS. Stay on the deck, but keep an eye out for the outboard boats."

  "Aye, aye, sir," the navy pilot responded. He manipulated the collective, stick, and pedals to level out their curve into a straight line back their landing pads on the ship.

  He just hoped that if Sam was alive, he'd l
ast that long in the hands of the self-styled Wrath of Allah.

  His nose took in the bouquet of fish and salt water from the airflow blasting through the copter's cabin, but it was ruined by the stink of fear for his friend. Worse than ridin' bareback on a bull.

  What a colossal screw up as a commander he'd turned out to be.

  Lord, please let Sam live long enough for us to rescue him. Preferably, in one piece.

  * * *

  Pahk tossed down another shot of rotgut gin, called "Stainless" by the locals. Omar didn't indulge in front of his followers, but he kept a supply for his benefactors. The Wrath of Allah had no sense of style, though.

  Wasn't anything like the soju from his homeland.

  Omar made up for his lack of liquor education with his enthusiasm for Chinese weapons. He stood near the top of the fortified mountain lookout post, using missile tube electronics to scan the sky for infrared targets.

  They planned to interrogate the American prisoner, but one of Omar's men had interrupted with urgent news of a pair of low-flying helicopter sightings off the north coast.

  At least, what they took to be the engine heat signatures of helicopters. Pahk had his doubts about their ability to use the sophisticated weapons.

  No sign of them now, but that didn't stop Omar from rushing up to use his new toy, the FY-6 Flying Eagle missile tube.

  "Perhaps they were in transit to another island?"

  Omar grunted, but continued to scan the sky for the enemy.

  "Or a fishing boat. This is all new to your men, they might have mistaken infrared signatures on the water for ones in the air."

  "Do the Americans have a stealth helicopter?"

  "Yes, but they're quiet and have a low radar return, not immune to giving off heat. Maybe diffuse the signatures a little. Why?"

  Omar pointed with the tube almost vertical and leaned back so he could point at the screen. "What's that, then?"

  A pair of parallel hot air streams fluctuated in prop wash on the display. Too small for a plane. Circled too fast to be a helicopter.

  Nevertheless, Pahk recognized the signature from along the Korean DMZ.

  "You've got an MQ-9 up there. American Reaper drone."

  "I'll take it out."

  Pahk shook his head. "Consider, you'll let them know of your new weapons. Wouldn't it be better to allow them to watch? Destroy them when they attack?"