by Brent Towns
On the gravel turn-around were three dark SUVs, and he suddenly realized who the extra shooters were; they were from Grayson. She knew they’d come after Marek, and she’d placed men there to be ready—except they’d had an up-close and personal encounter with a Hellfire. But it didn’t mean—
The door of the main entrance opened, and something flew toward them. “Shit, get down.”
The grenade exploded in a bright flash, and Kane felt the heat of it wash over him. Gravel rained down on the two team operators like hailstones. “You all right, Troy?”
“Still in the fight. Reaper.”
Kane came to his knees as a handful of shooters spilled out of the open doorway. With a flick of his finger, he switched the rate of fire on his 416 to auto and lit them up. Behind him, Troy did the same, and the shooters performed the macabre dance of the dying under the assault of the incoming rounds.
The two Team Reaper operators pressed forward, stepping over the bodies in the doorway. They raised their NVGs as they entered the brightly lit foyer. Troy was first in, and he swept it from left to right.
Kane followed him in and moved right toward a closed door. Troy walked backward toward him, watching their rear and the door on the left. He put his back against the wall near the doorframe and looked at Kane. He gave a nod, and Kane let his carbine hang by its strap and drew his M17. He opened the door and walked through.
Axe and Brick entered through the rear. After dealing with the two shooters outside on the paved dining area, they gained access and cleared the kitchen. It was empty, so Brick led the way into a large dining hall. The table was long and ran almost the full length of the room. As Axe went down one side, Brick traversed the other. They met at the opposite end and moved into a hallway. They reached the foyer just as Kane and Troy breached the room on the left.
Gunfire erupted from within the room. Axe took a couple of steps toward the door, but the door on the right opened and an armed man appeared, wielding an automatic weapon.
The 416 in Axe’s hands spat fire and the man was thrown back against the doorframe before sliding down it slowly, the weapon spilling to the floor. Without interrupting his pace, Axe changed direction and entered a spacious room.
The man on the other side of the doorway held a handgun at shoulder height, ready to shoot, and as soon as Axe appeared, he squeezed the trigger. The big man grunted from the bullet strike, and he staggered for a moment before falling to his knees. Behind him, Brick’s suppressed 416 rattled off three shots, the casings clinking and skittering across the tiled floor.
The shooter fell and rolled onto his back. Brick hurried forward to check the threat and found it had been neutralized. He checked the face of the man against a picture he had taped to his forearm and saw that it was Marek himself. He pressed his transmit button on his comms and said, “Reaper Five to all call signs. Jackpot. I say again, Jackpot.”
He turned away from the dead Marek and hurried to check on Axe, who was still on his knees. “How you doing, old man?”
“It fucking hurts,” he groaned.
“Where’d he get you?”
“Body armor. Think he broke a fucking rib.”
Brick slapped him on the back. “You’ll be all right.”
“Thanks. Great of you to check, old cock.”
The former SEAL grinned at his use of one of Knocker’s favorite sayings. “Can you get up?”
“Yeah, just give me a minute to catch my breath.”
Kane and Troy appeared in the doorway. Kane looked at his friend. “What’s wrong?”
“Took a round to his chest plate. He’ll live.”
“Good, then get him up. We’re out of here. Cara, how are we looking outside?”
“All clear so far.”
“Right, we’re coming out. Mission accomplished.”
Chapter 17
Juba, South Sudan
Former SEAL Chief Borden Hunt watched the two men across the street from where he and Rucker sat in their old, battered VW van. They’d been parked there for an hour and were no closer to finding out if these were the two men they needed to follow, or they’d been barking up the wrong tree for the better part of the afternoon.
“This is bullshit,” Rucker growled as he ran his hand through his light-brown hair in frustration. “The admiral has sent us on a Hail Mary assignment here, Bord.”
“Maybe,” Hunt said. “But we’ll nevertheless see it through.”
Both men worked for Joseph’s Special Activities Division. Four of them had been deployed to South Sudan, Hunt, Rucker, Grady Taylor, and Molly Hollister. Taylor and Hollister were back at their safe house. They monitored the comms and were hooked into a satellite feed, one that would go blind in—Hunt looked at his watch—twenty more minutes.
“Scimitar, copy?” The voice came through his comms.
“Copy, Grady.”
“Coming along the street is an old Toyota Landcruiser. Molly and I have seen it go past twice already. It might be worth keeping an eye on.”
Hunt looked out the window as it drove past. “I’m on it.”
The vehicle slowed down, and he could see there were two men inside. Then it stopped, blocking their view of the men they were watching. There was movement, then the Toyota drove away.
“They’re gone,” Rucker said.
“Yeah. Follow that Toyota,” Hunt said. Then, “Grady, our targets just got into that Toyota. Stay with it as long as you can.”
“We’ve got it covered.”
Rucker started the VW and grated the gears as he engaged first. They pulled onto the street and began tailing the Toyota.
They drove through the narrow streets of Juba until the Toyota turned right and passed a makeshift checkpoint made of old tires and barbed wire blockades. Standing sentry were three men armed with AK-47s.
“Keep going,” Hunt said, pointing across the street. “Then pull up over there.”
Rucker did as he was ordered, then cut the engine. Hunt climbed into the back of the van and pulled the curtain aside far enough to see out the back. He said, “Molly, have you still got the Toyota?”
“Sure have, Bord, but our window is about skunked. Two minutes tops.”
“Tell me what you see.”
“They’re driving along the street. This part of Juba is known for its unsavory types. Armed militia has taken root in there. It’s a good haven for terrorists who pay them for protection.”
“So, the guy we’re looking for could be in there?”
“It’s possible.”
“And we’re about to run out of fucking time,” Hunt muttered.
“It looks like they’re pulling up outside a building, Bord. We might be able to get something before we go offline in the next thirty seconds.”
“Here’s hoping.”
“Someone has come out to meet them. He’s struggling…and we’ve lost the feed.”
“Shit. Send me what you’ve got to look at,” Hunt said and grabbed the Toughbook from beside him. “Ruck, keep an eye open.”
Hunt waited for the screen to come to life, then skipped through the pictures that had been captured until he came to the last one. He zoomed in as best he could and looked at the figure. Molly said, “Just before we lost the feed, when the guy came out, he looked like he was struggling on crutches.”
Hunt concentrated on the man. He flicked through a couple more pictures until he got to the last one, where the man, for some reason, looked skyward. “Got you.”
He turned to Rucker. “Time to go home.”
“We got him, ma’am,” Flint said into the encrypted satellite phone. “In Juba, South Sudan.”
“Good. I’m glad since everything else has turned to shit,” Grayson hissed.
“What happened?”
“Marek is dead, and the team we sent to Macedonia was wiped out. Fucking bastards.”
“The WDI?”
“Yes. Who else?”
“What do you want to do?”
“Forget a
bout them for the moment. We need to concentrate on our terrorist friend. He’s worth fifty million dollars to us. With that, we can get the Cabal back to where it was.”
“Did you reach out to the others?”
“Yes. My people have been working to put a new council together. They have convinced the members from France, Germany, Belgium, Italy, and Greece to come on board.”
“Some of the biggest armies in the EU.”
“Yes, and we will need to stand together against the aggressors of the communist east.”
“Why not America?”
“Maybe once we are established, but not quite yet. Not after what happened.”
“And the UK?”
“That is still a work in progress,” Grayson allowed.
“I will have Red Team in-country inside a couple of days. You will be with them?”
“I said I was going to be.”
“Then I will talk to Miller and work things out.”
“I’ll see you then.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Skopje, North Macedonia
“All right, get it all packed up as quick as you can,” Thurston barked. “We need to relocate as soon as possible.”
Word had come through from Alex Joseph that there was a possibility the man they were seeking was in Juba, South Sudan, so the team was in the process of packing up everything and getting ready to move.
“Reaper, a word,” she called to her team commander.
Kane and the others had been back for all of ten hours, seven of which had been downtime while they slept off the op. “Yes, ma’am?”
“Once we relocate, I want you, Cara, and Carlos to go over a plan of attack. Let the rest of the team run their eyes over it in case they can see something you missed. Remember, this place is a hotbed.”
“We’ll work the problem, General.”
“You can forget the rank. I’ve received word that I’m being discharged from the military, and as of tomorrow, I will be a civilian. Everyone else is being let go as well.”
“So, what is it we’re doing?”
“Getting to Africa as fast as we can before Uncle Sam comes knocking. Knocker is our first priority, and I’m still in command until tomorrow. So, fuck them.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Suddenly the door to the operations center opened. The center was inside a large warehouse that was able to house all their equipment with ease.
Walking in were four men dressed in suits, and they had “spook” written all over them. Their leader was a man Thurston knew on sight. “What do you want, Brett? You’re a long way from home.”
“I’m here to shut you down.”
“We’re not shut down until tomorrow,” Thurston stated.
“Yeah, well, since you’ve wrapped up your op here, you’re all done.”
“No, we’re not done until tomorrow.”
Edison reached into his pocket and took out a piece of paper. He unfolded it and passed it to Thurston. By this time, the rest of the team had gathered around then. Kane glared at Edison. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“I’m here to speak to your boss, not you.”
Kane looked at Thurston. “What’s happening?”
“According to this, we’ve been disbanded.”
A murmur ran through the team. Cara said, “Is there something you need to tell us, ma’am?”
Thurston stared at Edison and felt like ramming the smug look on his face down his throat. “This asshole has talked the President into bringing the WDI into the National Intelligence fold under new command and new operators. We’re all out of a job.”
“We’ve still got a mission to complete,” Axe said. “Knocker is still out there.”
“Not your problem anymore,” Edison told him.
“But we have a lead.”
“I can’t help that.”
“Can’t General Jones do something, ma’am?” Axe asked.
“The general is no longer in a position of power.” The expression on Edison’s face grew even smugger.
“Permission to punch him in the face, ma’am?” Axe asked.
“Stand down,” Thurston ordered, but she had drawn her sidearm. Before the National Intelligence man realized what was happening, the barrel of the M17 was placed against his forehead. “All right, this is how things are going to work. Take their weapons and tie them up. We’ve got a man downrange who needs to come home. We’re going to get him.”
“You’ll get locked up for this.”
“Yeah? Oh, well. It’ll be worth it.”
Minutes later, they were all tied up while the rest of the team completed their task. Once they were done, Thurston walked over to Edison. “I’ll have someone come and untie you after we’re gone.”
“And I’ll have someone come and arrest you once we’re untied.”
“Asshole.”
On her way out the door, Thurston picked up her encrypted satellite phone and dialed a number.
“Jones.”
“We have a problem.”
“Tell me about it.”
Thurston went into detail about Edison. There was a sigh from the other end. “Get your man back, Mary. I’ll see what I can do. Just don’t be too keen on getting back to the States for a while.”
“I kind of expected that, sir. But there is another problem there as well.”
“Families?”
“Yes, sir.”
“It may take a few days, but I’ll see what I can organize there as well.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Juba, South Sudan
“What do we have, Bord?” Thurston asked the former SEAL.
Hunt stabbed a finger at the map on the table. “We believe they are holding him here.”
“Are you sure?”
“No, ma’am,” he said with a shake of his head. “That’s one thing we’re not sure of. However, we did get this picture.” Hunt put the picture on top of the map.
Kane leaned over and stared down. “Is that him?”
“We believe it is The Ghost, yes. If he’s here, Knocker could be here too.”
“What’s the terrain like?” Kane asked.
“The neighborhood is like Syria on a Saturday night. It’s full of terrorists and small fry wanting to make a name for themselves. Going in there is going to be hairy at best.”
“Well, we’re going in; that’s a no-brainer,” Thurston said. “How the team gets back out is up to them.”
“It’s going to be tricky without air support,” Kane pointed out.
“Darkness is your friend, Reaper. Use it, get the job done. Work out a plan and bring it to me.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Thurston left Hunt and Kane to look over the map. The Team Reaper commander looked at his counterpart and said, “I could use a good satellite picture about now.”
Hunt took a pen and circled a point on the map.
“This is the target building.” Another circle. “Over here is a building that allows a good field of fire down this street and this one. Put Cara in there with one of my people to watch her back, and she can provide overwatch. The rest of us can take the building.”
“That all sounds fine, but I can tell by your voice that it’s not going to be that easy.”
“We’ve counted about twenty men around the target building alone,” Hunt told him. “Throw in the others that are all around the neighborhood, and you’ve got an estimated sixty or seventy fighting-aged males who want to do nothing more than to kill Americans.”
“Should be interesting, then.”
“Might I suggest we break into two teams?”
“Tell me, Bord. Let’s work it out.”
“There is no working it out,” Hunt replied. “We have to get in there and back out as quickly as possible. If we get caught in there, we’re all fucked. We won’t have the firepower to get out. It’ll be Mogadishu all over again, except there will be way fewer of us than there were with them.”
Kane
nodded slowly. “You’re right. Without air support, we’re as screwed as a New York hooker giving out freebies on a Saturday night.”
“What are we going to do?” Hunt asked.
“There’s only one thing for it. Get air support.”
“But where?”
“The last place you’d expect it.”
“What?” Thurston blurted. “You never thought to run this past me before you made the decision?”
“It was the only decision to be made, General,” Kane said. “Besides, they were already here on a separate mission.”
“How do you know that?”
“I just do.”
“Shit.”
“The visitors are here,” Cara called.
“Make a decision, ma’am,” Kane said. “They can help us with manpower and air support.”
“Fine. Let them in.”
Two men came into the makeshift ops center and stopped in the center of the room. One was a tall man with broad shoulders, a buzz-cut, and tattoos on his arms. The other was shorter but just as wide as his companion. Kane stepped in front of the big man and held out his right hand. “Grigory, it is good to see you. Thanks for coming.”
“You did not think I would come?” the Russian mercenary asked. “I have not forgotten about our debt. Now it is time to repay it.”
Kane stepped aside and introduced the man to Thurston. “Grigory, this is General Mary Thurston. She’s my boss.”
“It is good to meet you. Now you are our boss too. This is Adrik Grekov. He is my lieutenant. The others are outside.”
“Others?” Thurston inquired.
Baburin glanced at the gathering crowd of operators and nodded sharply. “Yes. I have ten more men.”
The general nodded. “Reaper said you had air?”
“I have an MI-24. It can be used to insert men at the target and fly air cover for a time.”
Thurston stared uncertainly at Baburin for a long time before saying, “Alright. Get with Reaper and make a plan. We go tonight.”
Baburin smiled broadly. “I like her, John. She could be my next wife.”