Covert Commando: A Sam Harper Military Thriller

by Thomas Sewell

  Too low for dumping flares to do any good, nevertheless the chunk of regular eviction from the flare launcher showed he followed all the right procedures.

  A stream of lights popped and then fizzled into the water.

  Schnier spotted two lights rapidly approaching from ahead, each one spewing smoke.

  The other chopper was off to their left somewhere. On its own. Left to fend for itself.

  As the missile approached, the pilot flipped directions and dove even closer to the water to pick up speed.

  The SAM blew past above them. Tried to dive and turn back. Slammed into the water with a flash and splash.

  Schnier looked for the other bird. With the other half of his platoon. No explosion. A good sign?

  Larrikowal coughed twice, but kept whatever it was down. He croaked out, "So, we head for the beach landing as soon as possible?"

  Schnier ignored him. Called to the pilot. "Any word from the second bird?"

  "They're safe. Got their wheels a little damp, but dodged as well. Must've been extreme range. Saw them coming from a long ways away."

  "Good. Get us down on the beach before they launch more."

  People pay good money for rides like this. Like riding a bull in the arena.

  Schnier just kept telling himself that. Maybe it'd be more convincing with repetition.

  * * *

  Once Omar and his men were well past us on their way up the mountain, I stood up and motioned for the women to gather next to the stream.

  "It'll be easier to cross here and take the trail back down the mountain than attempt to climb directly down."

  The women looked dubiously at the fast-flowing water only a few feet above the waterfall.

  Raven tried to reassure them. "I'll go first. If you slip, you'll only end up in the pool below. It's perfectly safe."

  I stepped over to the top of the waterfall. Tried to sound confident. "I'll catch you, if I can."

  Raven splashed through the water and then took up a position on the trail with her rifle. She knelt behind a boulder and faced the direction the tangos had gone.

  Following her example, the rest of the women minced across and gathered on the mountain trail.

  The final one across, the cook, still holding her knife, had her feet slip out from underneath her. Flailing, she couldn't catch herself with her hands full and refused to leave either her possessions or her weapon.

  I grabbed her robe as she floated past. The fabric yanked at my hand and rode up her back, but to my relief, stayed on her.

  All I needed was to have to face an angry disrobed Muslim matron!

  I crossed the stream myself. Chose carefully where to place my feet. Picked rough and flat surfaces if possible.

  Dragged her along sputtering until we reached dry land and she could wring out her clothing.

  I motioned Raven over.

  "You know these trails much better than I do, so lead the way. Avoid any guards. We can take to the jungle to bypass a fight if we need to. They'll focus on the perimeter outward, not watch for enemies from behind. I'll take the rear. Anyone who catches us, or Omar's roving patrols, will hit us there."

  She stood up. Nodded. Looked at the women. "Don't bunch up. Let's go!" She marched down the trail; back toward the waterfall and pool.

  Gotta admire that kind of decisive efficiency.

  I watched up the mountain until the cook brought up the rear of the formation and then followed her in turn.

  We tracked past the waterfall. Around the pool. Deep into the jungle. All downhill.

  Limited noises. The women ahead tried to stay quiet, but they weren't so good at it that the creatures of the broad tall trees and thick palmy bushes didn't notice them.

  I didn't mind the smell of rotting plant material, disintegrating over time into the jungle floor. Marching outside gave me a welcome contrast to the sterile dampness of my prison cell.

  Not sure I want to go back into a cave anytime soon. Prefer at least a light breeze, if I can't have the surf.

  Raven stopped ahead, interrupting my reverie of newfound freedom.

  The other women stopped as well, so I passed them to quietly consult with the head of our feminine column. "What's up?"

  "The trail splits here. To the left is a boat dock on the river. Might have a watercraft available. To the right the guards will have set up a checkpoint on the trail. It's the farthest Omar controls on this side of the island."

  "Forget the river. You don't know if a boat is available. There may be guards at the docks or even father downriver. As I found out on my way in here, it's too constrained. Too predicable."

  She nodded and turned to face the other way. "We know there will be too many guards on the trail, though."

  "Better that than the unknown. Once you're past that checkpoint, you're home free. Or at least, should be able to make the coastal villages. Find a phone. I'll give you a number. Call it. Ask for Michelle. Explain who you are. Where you met me. She'll move heaven and earth to get you out and find out how to get me."

  "Aren't you coming with us?"

  "Nothing I'd like better than to continue to travel with you ladies, but I suspect a bunch of my friends are about to arrive soon and having me inside the wire will be a big advantage to them. Potentially save some lives. Maybe even your friend Schnier's. So I can't go farther, now that I know you'll be safe. Just continue an easy hike downhill and you must eventually reach the sea."

  Raven smiled at him. "Thank you for leading us out. I'm not sure we'd have had the courage otherwise."

  "It was all you. After all, you released my chains. Now swap magazines with me. I can use replacements for the shots I fired earlier, and if you need more than those I have left, even more are unlikely to help."

  She ejected her mag like a pro and handed it to me in exchange for mine. "Let's go, ladies. Through the jungle now, but in this kind of canopy and walking downhill it won't be long before we're beyond recapture."

  "Good luck," I muttered to their backs. "I'm sure going to need a rabbit's foot here."

  Turning, I hiked back up the trail we'd descended. Each step combined the torment of aching bruises and the weight of dangling chains.

  This was all so much easier when I was heading downhill and away from the fight.

  Stealth seemed out of the question, so I moved fast and counted on my observation and reaction times to save me in the event of a fatal encounter.

  After all, we'd just passed this way, and no one saw us, so there'd be no ambush, just a chance meeting engagement.

  My first move would be to dive off to the side of the trail. Hide in the depths of the jungle.

  But no need. I retraced our steps to the pool.

  A point of danger. Open area. Close to the waterfall, beneath which I knew guards had likely returned to take up their post.

  So now I snuck along the edge of the trail, as one does when hauling ten pound chains on each limb.

  Slowly.

  I reached the far side of the falls. Crept up the mountain trail.

  Two missiles lit up the mountain with their fiery exhaust. Shot away toward the coast. Trailed white exhaust to reflect the moonlight.

  Angled downward from the peak.

  Must be a target on the other end of that. Friendly planes or helicopters.

  No obvious explosions, but their trails stretched below the jungle canopy from here.

  I kept off the trail when I could. Edged up the mountain. Used the miniature stairs cut out of rock. Cut the switchbacks to save time. Panted.

  Climbing, even on two legs, sucks energy out.

  Carrying a rifle was like catching an early morning wave off Point Loma to me, but my chains together weighed as much as a packed ruck.

  Much rather be surfing.

  Noises above. At the end of the trail. Chants of "Allahu Akbar!"

  I found a ridgeline. Felt my way along it, perpendicular to the trail. Shuffled sideways. Kept my face toward their voices.

  Onc
e I'd reached far enough away to hide, I climbed upward. More difficult without the trail, but the slope was easy enough. Almost to the true peak, I found a spot overlooking the bad guys.

  A rough circle of stone surrounding a clearing where the trail ended. A dozen men focused down and outward. A fistful near two with missile tubes.

  Omar and Pahk. They leaned over the edge. Aimed down the mountain. Toward the sea.

  At targets carrying friends of mine, no doubt.

  I found a flattish rock. Laid down. Focused through the rifle's scope. Mentally adjusted for the distance. Maybe fifty yards.

  Tough to miss, but downhill can be tricky.

  Made sure once I fired, I could quickly scoot back and have rock once again between us. Too many of them to do otherwise.

  Watched their body language. Pahk and Omar argued about something. Omar cursed him out for inaccuracy.

  Pahk slurred his words. Handed his tube to another man, who took up position between me and Omar. Pahk sat next to the reloads, his back to the stone wall.

  Should I shoot now, or wait to fire until I could get Omar or Pahk in my sights?

  The stone blocked most of Pahk. The other man occluded Omar.

  They decided for me. Seemed to get a lock. Prepared to fire again.

  Couldn't let that happen.

  I targeted the closer man. Below the missile tube. Center mass. No mistakes. Limited ammo.

  One shot, one kill.

  Exhaled. Paused. Pressed the trigger.

  Chapter Twenty: Captive Reset

  Larrikowal enjoyed a firefight. Had no problems with cover and move, shifting his aim despite adrenaline pounding in his ears, even focusing while under fire.

  But helpless in a helicopter? Bounced back and forth as the pilot dodged missiles?

  No control at all?

  He squeezed his straps and prayed to Saint Lorenzo Ruiz, patron of the Filipino people, that they wouldn't break and cast him into the sea.

  His stomach rumbled, but he kept the unfamiliar American food he'd eaten on the ship down.

  Schnier sat there unmoved. Stared down at the white-topped waves blurring past.

  The Americans flew helicopters much more than the SAF. Couldn't afford the repair bills.

  Land rushed forward. A thin strip of beach met towering palms at the edge of the jungle.

  Uninhabited. Undeveloped. Unlikely to be directly defended.

  Schnier opened the side door. The door gunner opposite took his cue and did the same.

  Before they'd even landed!

  Two more missiles tore down from the mountain top, seeking their engines.

  Saint Lorenzo, save us all!

  This time, their pilot didn't dodge. Was he worried about the open doors?

  The first missile, the closest, headed straight for them. Fire roared behind it.

  Larrikowal listened for the chunk of flares ejecting. Nothing. Just the thump of the four-bladed main rotor.

  Were they out of countermeasures?

  Seconds from impact.

  Larrikowal crossed himself.

  The pilot pushed forward on the stick. Cut the power. The chopper dove toward the sand. He flattened into ground effect.

  Touched down.

  The missile stayed on target. Its aim remained true.

  But in the sky, there are no obstacles.

  A big broad palm tree exploded. Rained burnt coconuts.

  Fiery fronds fell.

  Larrikowal exhaled. The jungle was green. The fire would quench itself.

  The second helicopter landed next to theirs. Schnier and his men leapt down to the beach.

  The final missile passed overhead. Too high to impact anything.

  Between the explosion and the jungle canopy blocking its view, lost its lock. Eventually reached the end of its range without re-acquiring anything.

  Plunged into the sea.

  He unhooked his harness. Followed the Americans down to the sand. Relaxed. Stepped over to Schnier.

  "Easy enough, but I'll stay here. Wait for my force to arrive. The pair of patrol boats shouldn't be too long behind us."

  Schnier nodded to acknowledge him. Carried on a quick chat with their command center back on the LCS.

  "They can't have many more missiles. Already fired half a dozen. Convince him to authorize one more drone. Bad enough we have to climb through the jungle to attack without doing it completely blind."

  The other rangers spread out with their weapons. Found positions of cover to watch the jungle and the sea.

  Larrikowal tracked the exhaust trails of the missiles back to the mountain peak. They slowly drifted down, but would take a while to completely break up.

  Until then, the missile tracks pointed the way to their primary enemy, so he tried to memorize exactly where they touched the mountain.

  Revenge would be nice.

  Schnier didn't sound happy. "Okay, if that's all he'll do, having one high up and just out of missile range on this side will at least cover our approach to the mountain. Better than nothing. We'll wait for it to get into position. Give more time for the SAF boats to catch up, anyway."

  At the end of the trails through the sky, at the place Larrikowal stared, an explosion lit up the mountain.

  He tapped Schnier on the shoulder and pointed. "That's exactly where the SAM site is. Where they launched the missiles from."

  Schnier grinned. "Change of plans. We just watched the missile site blow up. Send that drone overhead. Assuming they don't shoot it down, we're taking the helicopters."

  He cocked his head to listen to Michelle before replying.

  "No, if he won't send it overhead, we're taking the helicopters in, anyway. So ask him if he'd rather lose a pair of thirty million dollar machines and their pilots, or a sixteen million dollar drone."

  Larrikowal decided he'd continue to stay here and wait for his SAF boats.

  Schnier made a circling up motion above his head. "That's what I thought. Relay when it's in position."

  The rangers gathered back to the helicopters from where they'd dispersed to provide security.

  "Good luck." Larrikowal shook Schnier's hand. "I'll go watch the jungle until my people arrive."

  Schnier climbed back into the helicopter and strapped in. He waved.

  Better him than me.

  Burning coconuts are pretty, though.

  * * *

  My appropriated AK fired as my trigger press interrupted my concentration.

  Loud and painful. No ear protection.

  The tango with the missile launcher collapsed. Good hit to center mass.

  I shifted aim to Omar's beard.

  Two of the others reflexively fired full auto into the darkness. Omar dropped out of sight behind a stone wall.

  Dratz.

  They knew I was out there somewhere, but not where. One shot when they weren't paying attention to my upward location wasn't enough to find me.

  No need to relocate yet.

  I hunted for Pahk in my scope. Too close. Glanced over the top to take in the entire scene.

  The enemy hunkered down. Peered over stone battlements. Watched the dark jungle mountain-side.

  Who next? At least they wouldn't be firing at my friends any time soon. So I waited.

  Patience is a sniper's best quality.

  I counted my heartbeats against the flat rock under me. Calmed them.

  Two hundred beats later, a tango ran past the one I'd shot. Left him there. Grabbed the missile tube. Ducked down by the rock wall.

  In plain sight from here. He'd chosen the wrong side of the redoubt. The far side was totally exposed.

  Locked my cross-hairs on his head. Exhaled.

  Paused. Pressed the trigger.

  Head exploded.

  My eardrums rang with the shockwave.

  The rest shifted. Turned their heads to find the source.

  I didn't wait. Slid back on my belly until out of sight. Hustled a dozen meters around a rock formation. Used it as a
partial shield. Leaned forward to examine the flat, cleared area surrounded by rock wall.

  One trail in and out. Omar left the clearing. Hustled down that trail. Carried a missile launcher.

  Pahk followed after him. Held a missile reload over his shoulder.

  I shifted my aim to catch them.

  They jogged away. Turned a corner.

  Vanished.

  Too late.

  I sighed. Shifted back to the redoubt. Found a new target.

  Another tango took advantage of my movement to grab the remaining missile launcher. He moved across, hidden by the rock wall closer to me.

  Next to the stack of reloads for the weapon. Stood up next to them. Aimed at something in the sky.

  Got a lock.

  My cross hairs floated past his body.

  I fired one shot. Short on ammo.

  The bullet tagged him in the shoulder. He pulled the firing lever. Fell to the side.

  His missile launched horizontally into the sky. Away from their previous shots. Other side of the mountain.

  The exhaust lit his foot on fire.

  And the boxes containing the remaining reloads.

  I ducked back. Behind rock.

  The clearing exploded. I got just the reflection. Plus the sound.

  Multiple detonations.

  The full force hit the jihadists.

  Don't use your fighting position as a magazine for storing explosive devices, no matter how convenient it may be.

  I moved because paranoid is better than dead. Turned around the other side of the rock. Watched them burn.

  The tangos closest to the explosions were gone. Vaporized into ash, no doubt. At least painted the rock walls.

  Those farther away ran screaming. On fire.

  The smartest one stopped. Dropped to the ground. Rolled to put out the fire.

  I shot him.

  The rest ran in terror until they collapsed.

  Put them out of their misery?

  Short on ammo, but the fire was short on fuel. Not much remained to burn in the dirt and rock clearing.

  I slung my rifle. Bounded down the hill like flowing down a wavefront. Drew the katana.

  They didn't even see me. It was like slaughtering pigs.

  I finished them all, the stench of burnt flesh and voided bowels in my nose.

  Where did Pahk and Omar go? Chasing Raven?