Aruba Mad Günther

by T L Yeager

  Part IV

  Conquer

  57

  Regal Palms Neighborhood, Aruba

  Within minutes of Geert leaving, Maddie had pulled the mattress from the bed and was busy setting up a shooting position.

  “We’ll see you when we see you,” had been Geert’s words of goodbye. Maddie had shaken his hand, gripping it with both of hers. There was nothing left to say. He had evolved from a twice-a-year acquaintance to a dear friend in days. Like a comrade in arms, Maddie would never forget Geert, no matter how long she lived.

  For the next several hours, Maddie alternated between watching the stream of hostages, practicing her rhythm of attack, and talking with PTang via Skype.

  “They’ve received 85 million dollars so far,” said PTang. Maddie might have felt lonely, might have questioned the lunacy of her plan, if not for PTang’s voice in the room. She was almost two thousand miles away but her unquestioning company was encouraging.

  “Jesus, they’ve started a whole new industry,” Maddie replied. The terrorists were releasing hostages. The Netherlands, Germany, Sweden, Italy and Wincopia Corporation had all paid the ransom.

  “If you had that many bitcoin just five years ago, it would be worth six times the amount. Five-hundred and ten million. News say that bitcoin prices jumping again now. All this ransom money good for the market.”

  “Wow. We live in a fucked-up world, PTang… Any news on the good ol’ USA or Great Britain paying for the lives of their people?”

  “Speculation that England might pay before the deadline. The US government went silent. Nothing left to say.” That was unwelcome news but served as validation. Maddie just needed the damn foreigners out of the way now.

  Wincopia had announced that there were nearly nineteen hundred people checked into the resort when it was taken over. Something on the order of sixty-five percent listed their flights as arriving from Great Britain and the United States. PTang ran the numbers. There were eight hundred to a thousand due to be released. That didn’t account for the deaths, a toll that some speculated might run into the hundreds based on videos released by the terrorists.

  “Oh, I got into his control computer,” PTang added.

  The comment took a pair of seconds to land. “What? How do you not tell me that?”

  “You’ve been asking so many questions.”

  “Damn. My fault. Sorry about that. Next time I’ll start by asking if there’s anything critical you need to tell me before I get to talking.”

  “Okay,” PTang replied. There was silence for several seconds.

  “Goddamn, PTang. Are you going tell me if this is a good thing?”

  “I detected a minesweeper on the system.”

  Maddie hated when PTang spoke in lingo she didn’t understand. She’d throw something technical out there and not elaborate. Maddie didn’t think it was intentional, but it drove her nuts.

  “Keep going, PTang. You know I’m old, slow and don’t know my way around a computer.”

  “It’s a program. It scan computer looking for foreign software. It machine learn what make sense for you then check for anything foreign. Whoever is running it knows what they’re doing.”

  “How’d you get around it?”

  “It was a problem I’ve considered in the past. Different tactics have been used. The best I have seen so far was also the most simple. You mask the software. There was a folder filled with huge videos. I made the emulator look like a video and stuck it in with the others.”

  “Jesus. An emulator? Can you control the machine?”

  “Not quite. Once I open it, the bandwidth will be noticeable. I wait for now. It send me low res screen scrapes every four seconds until I make it active.”

  “Where the hell did you get that?” An emulator attack was the golden egg hack. An emulator, if done right, could allow a person to take control of another system. They could lurk, just waiting and watching, or take control and completely fuck with the person on the other end.

  “Remember small-time hacker that was getting into auto body shops and running duplicate charges to his accounts?”

  “Uh-huh.” Maddie did remember the conversation. Auto body shops didn’t wield enough cash to be customers, but they’d discussed the attacks in a weekly emerging threats meeting.

  “He was using an emulator. He loaded it on a thumb drive and made it look like vehicle part manuals. Once the emulator was installed, he took advantage of it for a couple of days then moved on.”

  “Stole something like a hundred thousand in a week,” Maddie finished.

  “I modify his code. Make it better. I load from your machine to internal web host and programed it to download when he connected the computers.”

  “You’re one scary Cambodian computer geek.”

  “Earlier he pushed a graphic of the buildings and updated text with instructions for the hostages being released. This was very fast, though. Just enough time to have a quick look around. Later, he reconnected and set up live stream of the hostages being released. He left the connection open so other hostages could see they were making good on promises. I assume, anyway.” PTang paused. “Plenty of time to load my program to its hiding spot.”

  “If the CIA got ahold of you, they’d lock you in a room and turn you into a full-time spook.”

  PTang ignored Maddie’s comment. “They set up a deadline timer on outside web.” She hesitated. “It’s counting down to the executions set for 10 P.M. They say they leave with boat full of hostages and detonate explosives if the final two ransoms are not paid.”

  “What time is sunset?”

  A pause.

  “Quarter to seven.”

  “I’ll have light for a good bit after that.”

  Maddie peered down the scope. The building facing her had a machine gun nest on either end. Both were protected with sandbags that made the target window small. Several other armed men came in and out of view as the day wore on. Two were armed with Dragunov sniper rifles. The others carried what looked to be a variant of the AK-47.

  One sniper in particular, caught Maddie’s attention. He had arranged a makeshift shooting position using a shipping pallet that looked to have been sawed in half. Behind it, he sat on a chair. It allowed him to rest the weight of the rifle and gave him an angle down to the ground where he watched the released hostages through his scope. The man had fired two rounds while she watched but Maddie couldn’t see the targets.

  “Take some notes and pass them on to Chuckles when you call. That way at least they’ll have the intel.”

  “Okay. Ready,” PTang replied.

  “I’ve got six or seven on the roof. Some wearing skeleton masks, others with scarfs or bandanas tied up to the nose. There’s a party of six or so escorting the hostages. They watch them to the road then go back for more.”

  “Latest information has total numbers somewhere around forty men,” PTang added. “Several were killed at the mall.”

  “They’ve got men along the perimeter, but I can’t see through the vegetation.” Maddie had been trying to see through the grass that lined the parking lot. In the breaks, she’d caught glimpses of masked men and glints from rifles.

  “Add this up, PTang. Seven on the roof I can see. Say… seven I can’t. Let’s say four along the front, four along each side and four keeping an eye on the water. How many’s that?”

  “Thirty.”

  “Six running the hostages and probably more working the buildings… That about does it.”

  She planned to clear as many from the roof as she could. Her plan was to make an initial pass, moving left to right, and then drop to the entrance where another machine gunner protected the lobby.

  It was just a matter of time now. As it passed, she became increasingly confident in her decision and plan. For once, she would put her ridiculous amount of training and experience to use for a cause that mattered. She would get to Ross and Izzy, or she’d die trying.

  58

  Surfside Resort,
Aruba

  All day, Ross had heard yelling and arguing in Anas’s office. He’d listened closely enough to know that they’d lost several drones and it had something to do with the airport.

  The tension had him on edge. He’d been monitoring the updates to the website. He’d watched video of the hostages being released. It was painful to witness, knowing they couldn’t go with them. Plastic and paper from certain countries, separated the freed from the uncertain.

  The United States still hadn’t paid. It was time to run if given the chance. Deadlines came with terms. There were none listed on the webpage, but Ross knew better.

  He wanted to ask Anas but he hadn’t been in all day. The only sighting had come early when his brother threw open the door.

  “Do you want something to eat, sweets?” Ross asked.

  “I’m so bored, Papa. When are these mean people going away?”

  “I don’t know, sweets. We just…” The door flew open, cutting him off.

  “Gather some things and come with me.” Anas looked terrified. Sweat ran down his forehead, and he appeared to be hyperventilating.

  “Where?”

  “Away from here. Someplace safer.”

  “What’s happening?”

  “Get your things. We must go! We only have a short time.”

  Ross stared for a second longer, deciding whether to run. “Anas?”

  “It’s okay. You’re just not safe here anymore. I’m taking you up to a room.”

  Ross grabbed the bag of food that was nearly empty and looked around the room feeling like there should be more. The iPad was lying on the mattress.

  “Hurry!”

  Ross reached for his daughter. “Hold my hand, Izzy.”

  Anas turned back to them. “Listen to me. Keep your eyes down and don’t look at anyone. Do you understand?”

  Ross and Izzy both nodded.

  “Stay close.” Anas went first.

  Ross pulled Izzy in front of him and pushed her forward at the back of her shoulders. As they passed from the office where Anas had been working, Ross sensed another man watching from a chair in front of a bank of computer screens. He didn’t turn to look. His eyes remained focused on Anas’s back as he opened the door to the lobby.

  Another man, masked and armed, turned and watched as Anas led them around the desk toward the hall. Ross realized he hadn’t taken a breath.

  “Hurry, Izzy,” he said, encouraging her to keep up.

  They turned right at the elevators and Anas took three quick steps ahead to open the door to the stairwell. He ushered them through then forced it closed and stole a glance back through the window.

  Anas ran past them, taking the stairs two at a time. Ross lifted his daughter and followed as quickly as possible. At the door to the first floor, Anas again checked the window.

  There was a bar blocking the door. It was slightly crooked and entirely out of place. Anas lifted handles on either side, then leaned it in the corner.

  They’ve turned the building into a prison, Ross thought.

  Seconds later, they were through the door and into the hall. Anas hurried to the first room on the right. He stopped and looked up. Ross followed his eyes up to the ceiling and a black domed security camera. He flashed a key card across the handle and the lock beeped.

  Anas held the door wide and hurried them inside.

  “Stay here. Only I have a key. Don’t answer the door unless you hear my voice. If someone knocks and you don’t hear me calling, hide in the closet or something. Okay?” The panic he wore shot through the space that separated them.

  “Okay,” Ross replied. Anas waited an instant more, his gaze locked on Izzy.

  “No children need to die. Enough is enough. This is one Isabelle I could save.” Anas turned to go.

  “Thank you,” Ross called after him as the door drifted closed.

  59

  Regal Palms Neighborhood, Aruba

  Light was fading fast as Maddie peered through the scope. She tracked a black form walking along the roofline, backlit by the setting sun.

  “I’m ready to roll, PTang. Gonna hang up because it’s about to get real loud in here. Thanks for your help, and good luck.”

  “No such thing as luck,” PTang replied. “I see you when I see you.”

  Maddie snapped her attention away from the rifle and stared at the computer. “How’d you know to say that?”

  “I’m not sure what you mean, Mrs. Gunt.”

  Maddie shook her head. “Never mind. You’re right… I’ll see you when I see you.” She clicked the hang-up button.

  Target number one was eating some type of pie in a package. He’d been snacking the better part of the day. Maddie had the scope zoomed to three-quarters its max. She wanted a big target but also the ability to see laterally in the sight picture as she swept the roof.

  The ring of the fire alarm met Maddie’s ears. She’d heard it several times throughout the day.

  “Class dismissed,” Maddie whispered.

  The jihadi in her scope had removed his mask and was studying the nutritional information on the pie package. He was sitting cross-legged, and because of the sandbags, wasn’t much of a target. Cross hairs hung on the center of his face.

  “I’ll see you when I see you,” Maddie muttered. The rifle bucked, filling the bedroom with a violent flash of light. Her ears went from hearing the subtle moans of the house, to a loud ringing.

  Five-hundred and twenty meters provided just enough time to relocate the target. The dark orb that had been the man’s head, erupted into a black screen of mist in the waning light.

  Shifting right, Maddie zeroed in on two soldiers sitting at the roof’s edge. Apparently, it was snack time for the whole crew. They looked like a pair of young co-eds, too into one another to notice the Caribbean sunset behind them. Both were looking to their right, no doubt still trying to comprehend what had happened to their comrade.

  Maddie placed the reticle center of mass on the leftmost man.

  “Nighty-night.” A second explosion of energy consumed the room.

  Muscle memory cycled the bolt. Maddie had it down to a fraction of a second. Target number two had been thrown back, leaving just his legs in view, still dangling over the edge.

  Target number three met a less pleasant fate. The bullet tore away the base of his neck. The kinetic energy transfer wasn’t enough to throw him back. He clutched at the void, rolled to his side and then fell from the edge of the building.

  Continuing right, Maddie acquired her nemesis in arms. Only one of the snipers had hung around into the evening. He was still sitting on the chair behind his makeshift bench rest. The Dragunov was laying on the pallet but his head was up, still searching for his mark. He hadn’t made Maddie’s hide.

  There had been plenty of time to fortify her concealment. Maddie had pulled mattresses from both spare beds. She leaned them against the windows, left and right of her shooting hole. The mattresses muffled the sound to the point that it couldn’t be heard from across the salt pan. They also cut down the size of the flash. Instead of two windows strobing with light, the visual report from her rifle was the size of a cookie sheet.

  Half a second passed as Maddie waited for the bottom of her breath. The staccato, clackety-clack of a belt-fed machine gun barked the open salt pan into war.

  “Just business.” Maddie drew back on the trigger, sending another spinning needle of lead into the Aruban dusk. It crossed the space in a fraction of a second, tore through the pallet and dropped the sniper from view.

  The machine gun fell silent as the gunner repositioned his aim. Maddie was on him with the scope before the muzzle flashes returned. Within the width of a heartbeat, bullets started chipping at the siding along the back of the house. One buzzed through the drywall at the far end of the bedroom and thudded into the back wall.

  The target was hunkered down behind the sandbags. Every four or five rounds, a bright tracer streaked through the void, arching in toward Maddie’s pos
ition.

  She set the crosshairs on the sparking muzzle and pulled the trigger. Sand from the bag holding the rifle plumed over the attack. Maddie hesitated, searching for any sign of movement.

  There was stillness.

  She shifted her sights down to the lobby and was again greeted by bursts of fire. Maddie had been impressed with the care taken to protect the lobby gunner. Sandbags were piled around the base of a desk. Additional layers were stacked on top.

  The flashes came in a series of three and then four. Where they were landing, Maddie hadn’t a clue. Even with the fluorescence of the lobby casting light on the position, there was little in the way of a silhouette. Maddie waited and watched.

  “Show yourself, motherfucker,” she growled to herself.

  Like a gift from the divine listener, a form appeared. The jihadi stood, seeming to pull back on the receiver handle to clear a jam. Maddie fired.

  The round missed, spiderwebbing the plate glass lobby just inches left of the target. She cycled the bolt a sixth time.

  No sooner had her eye picked up renewed flashes from the roofline, the window above her shattered. The bullet split open the mattress with a puff and showered her in foam padding.

  She’d missed twice. The machine gun on the top right corner poured rounds into the house. The room came alive as drywall was torn from the exterior walls.

  Maddie stayed focused on the lobby. A half-moon silhouette of the man’s skull bobbed in time with the flashes from the desk. She lowered the crosshairs just beyond its edge and sent another .338 down range.

  A veil of black spatter caught as a fuzzy blot on the glass and the weapon fell silent.

  Maddie panned up quickly.

  The gunner had locked her position. Tracer rounds tore in with warp speed. One sailed high, the next curved off to Maddie’s right. Only a portion of his rounds were still hitting the house. The distance and dancing of the 7.62 automatic were working in Maddie’s favor.