Black Operations- the Spec-Ops Action Pack

by Eric Meyer

  “Some. But this one’ll be okay,” he answered her.

  She was quiet again, and he rapidly checked the gear they were taking with them. He strapped on the NVS goggles and inserted the earpiece in his ear. She looked at him.

  “Where did that stuff come from?”

  “Will gave it to me, so I’ll be able to communicate with the Platoon when they come in. And the goggles will keep us out of trouble. Do you know how to use one of these?”

  He handed her one of two M4-A1s from the trunk.

  She nodded. “I’ll manage. I’m a cop, remember?”

  “How could I forget? Besides, you’re out of your jurisdiction.”

  He felt a light punch to his good arm. “Watch it, buster. I’m not always in this good a mood.”

  Wisely, he made no reply. They put on camo jackets and armored vests, and she helped him fasten the straps. They both carried pistols. His was a standard Sig Sauer P226, and she carried her service Glock 9mm. He tucked four grenades into the pockets of his jacket, and when Carol insisted, gave in and allowed her to carry two grenades herself. Finally, he took out a further case from the trunk and opened it.

  “A model airplane?” she uttered. “Are you sure?”

  “Trust me, this is no model.”

  He assembled the aircraft, one of the RQ-11 Ravens. The small, remote-controlled UAV was launched by hand and powered by an electric motor. It could fly six miles at altitudes of five hundred feet above ground level, and over fifteen thousand feet above sea level at speeds of up to sixty miles an hour. Nolan explained it to her and showed her the electronic tablet they would use to view the compound.

  “How did you get it? These things must cost the Pentagon a fortune?”

  “This one crashed, and they threw it out. I took it home and fixed it up to fly again, with a couple of modifications.”

  “You’re a man of many talents, Kyle Nolan,” she gushed. “I’ll have to remember that.”

  “Yeah. Can you work that tablet? I don’t have a spare hand.”

  “It looks easy enough.”

  “It is.” He worked the buttons, and the engine quietly started to spin the propeller. He set the desired course and altitude on the tablet, then picked up the Raven and threw it into the night sky.

  “That’s it? Won’t it crash? We’re not controlling it.”

  “It’s flying itself using a built-in computer. It’ll climb to altitude, and then circle on the course I programmed. That’s right above the coordinates for the compound. Switch on the display, you’ll see.”

  He leaned across and flicked a switch on the display, and her eyes widened in astonishment as the Raven’s onboard night vision camera sent back a moving image of the forest two thousand feet below it. And then the compound came into view. The security lights were on, and they could clearly see guards patrolling the wooden walls.

  “That’s interesting. They have ramparts. That’ll make it more complicated. Let’s go, we’ve got ground to cover.”

  Carol watched the image for a few more seconds, noting a number of solid looking buildings, a warehouse and an unmistakable garage, with cars and trucks parked outside. And guards everywhere, even at this time of the night.

  Could they know an attack was imminent? Surely not, that could spell disaster for all of us.

  She hurried after Nolan who was already striding away. She heard him say, “Keep behind me. I can see where I’m going with these goggles.”

  “Yes, Sir!” she snapped back.

  He stifled a grin and walked rapidly through the dark forest. They made good time. The trail was well walked, and there were no obstacles to impede their progress, but even so, it was 0105 when they drew near to their target. The high wooden walls towered above them, and there was a wide-open strip around them, perhaps fifty yards wide. He wondered idly if it was mined, but it was unlikely. There were too many hikers and campers in these woods, as well as hunters. Mines would risk an incident that brought in the authorities. But there’d be sensors or some kind of warning system. He looked carefully at the ground and made out the faint reflection from the infrared of the NVS on a trip wire; very fine, and placed about a foot above the ground. It was almost exactly halfway across the open ground. He explained it to Carol.

  “I’ll stop when we reach it and show you where to step over it.”

  She nodded. “What about the guards? They’ll be using night vision.”

  “They’ll be looking the other way.”

  “Why would they do that?”

  “Wait and see.”

  They started over the open ground. When they reached the trip wire, Nolan helped her over and called a halt.

  “This is where my little box of tricks on the Raven will come in handy. I hope.”

  He activated a control sequence on the tablet, and they both watched the display as the Raven headed away. Then it started back towards the compound, and lights appeared in the sky. Simultaneously, there was a low, humming noise.

  “It looks just like a UFO,” she breathed.

  “It’s supposed to. I thought I’d build something we could use as a diversion. The sixty-four dollar question is, whether they’ll go for it?”

  They waited in the middle of the open ground, watching the apparition in the sky. They were badly exposed to the defenders’ night vision systems. Nolan knew the risk they ran. If they didn’t go for it, the next thing they knew, they’d be diving for cover from incoming machine gun fire. They watched, and they waited.

  “Look, it’s working.”

  Nolan heard Carol’s excited whisper and glanced at the display. They could clearly see the green figures running to the far side of the wall, pointing at the sky.

  “Yeah, it’s working.”

  He put the Raven in a continuous, tight orbit to the east of the wall at two thousand feet and programmed the light and sound for a further two minutes.

  “Time to go.”

  He ran forward to the wooden wall, and she followed. Nolan crouched at the base and fired a tiny grapnel over the parapet, then started climbing, ignoring the pain. He reached the top, climbed over to the rampart, reaching down to help Carol over. As her feet touched down onto the wooden platform, the lights went out, and the sound ceased. They could hear shouting; Latin American voices.

  “Dónde está? Dónde ha ido?” Where’s it gone?

  “Yeah, I wonder. Sort that one out, motherfuckers,” he growled. “We need to get to the ground while they’re still looking the other way, then we can start searching these buildings. Let’s keep it good and quiet.”

  “Don’t worry, I don’t intend to make a sound.”

  He glanced across at her. She looked terrified. She was a cop, but this was way outside her normal duties. Nolan pulled the line over, dropping it down to the ground, and they quietly slid downwards to the beaten earth. Already, men were moving around, shouting to one another, dispersing and returning to their normal guard duties. It was time to go to work. They started with the nearest building, a locked storeroom, and an obvious choice for a prison cell.

  “Keep an eye on the screen, and tuck it out of sight,” he whispered to Carol. She nodded.

  Nolan looked around. There was no one nearby. He took out his combat knife and struck the heavy hilt against the lock. It parted, and he cautiously opened the door and went in. There were wooden crates stacked in one corner, probably cocaine. He went back out, and Carol followed him to the next building, but it proved to be a workshop. As he closed the door, a guard came around the corner. They saw each other at the same instant. The man unslung his rifle, but Nolan double tapped him with the suppressed Sig Sauer, and he collapsed to the ground with a crash as his assault rifle skittered over the ground. It was impossible to lower someone quietly with one arm just after you’d shot him. He cursed silently, dropping into the shadows.

  “Quién es?”

  A guard came around the corner and saw Carol.

  “Quién eres?”

  He covered
her with his rifle and walked closer, passing Nolan who had pressed himself into the shadow of the doorway. He reached out one-handed and wiped the blade of his heavy combat knife across the man’s throat. Blood gushed from his throat, and he dropped to the ground. This time Carol had time to hold him, lowering him carefully. He nodded his thanks.

  “We’re running out of time. We’d better go for broke and check the main house. Stay behind me.”

  He heard her mumble, “Yeah, and where the fuck would I get to?”

  He smiled to himself and found a way through the shadows to the rear of the house. The guards were back on the ramparts, patrolling the area and watching for intruders. Watching the outside, not the inside. Still, there were other guards inside. It was only a matter of time before they discovered their dead comrades and sounded the alarm. To his surprise, the back door was open, and they slipped into a huge kitchen. They went past preparation tables, racks of pots and pans, and shelves laden with crockery and foodstuffs. The smell of spices was rich and exotic. Nolan opened the door, and they passed through into a hallway. They were in a large dining area, more of a dining hall, with a long table in the center, able to seat a score of diners. They kept on through the door and found they’d reached a wider hallway. Further along, an ornate staircase went to the upper floors, but of more interest was a doorway opposite marked, ‘Sótano’.

  “The door to the basement,” he whispered. “It’s an obvious place. I’d bet they’re down there.”

  She nodded her understanding, and they walked across the hall, and he opened the door. Once again, it was unlocked.

  “This is good and easy. They don’t like locking their doors around here.”

  Nolan nodded, but he was unhappy. It was too easy, much too easy. He holstered his Sig Sauer and gripped his M4-A1 one-handed, ready to shoot. If they were walking into an ambush, he wanted to be ready to dish out the pain. The wooden stairway led down to a rough, concrete passageway. With the night vision goggles, everything was green, and more importantly, the space was empty. Until the light in the basement went on and blinded him, as a guard appeared suddenly from his station behind the stairs.

  “Quién es?”

  Through the flashes of searing light that had rendered him temporarily blind, Nolan could see movement below; then a loud gasp and a man’s rough voice.

  “Suelte el arma! Arriba las manos!”

  The guard was holding a 9mm MAC-10, pointed straight at him.

  He started to lower his rifle, desperately trying to recover his vision. Yet as long as the light was on, he was blinded, and he couldn’t remove the goggles one-handed without dropping the rifle. His mind raced over the possibilities, and he realized he needed to remove the goggles before he could do anything. He put the rifle on the concrete floor and started to straighten, too late. Through his ruined vision, he saw a flash of movement and realized the guard was trigger happy, probably high on coke. He threw himself to one side, just as a half dozen shots blazed out of the gun barrel. He grabbed for his Sig Sauer, grunting as his shoulder crashed into the concrete with no second arm to stop the shock of impact. But he was too slow, too blind. He gathered himself to jump at the guard in the hopes of knocking him down physically, but from behind him there was the crash of a shot, and then another. He whirled around, and dimly made out the figure of Carol, holding her Glock 9mm. His sight became more focused, and he made out her face, white and stricken, as the echoes of the shots reverberated around the house.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t think I had any choice. He was about to kill you.”

  “That’s okay, you were probably right. You saved my life, but we need to get moving. I doubt we have more than a few seconds before they come down here to find out what’s going on.”

  They ran down the last few steps of the basement and along a whitewashed corridor. A heavy door was bolted shut, top and bottom. He turned to Carol.

  “Cover that stairway in case anyone comes down. Don’t worry about shooting them. It’s too late for that now.”

  She nodded. He slid open the bolts and found himself staring at John and Violet Robson. They goggled at him.

  “Kyle! You came!”

  He stared at them. Violet Robson had bruises on her bare arms and a black eye where someone had punched her.

  Punched an old woman!

  John Robson was in a worse state. One eye was shut completely, and one of his pants legs was covered in blood. His right arm hung down at an awkward angle.

  Bastards!

  They’d had some fun with these old people. They knew nothing to help their captors and could offer no resistance or try to escape. It was unadulterated sadism. He averted his eyes from their injuries. The time to dwell on them was later.

  “Yeah, I did, and Carol’s in the passage. We need to move fast, are you able to walk?”

  He looked at John’s leg.

  “They roughed us up some, but yeah, if it means getting out of this shithole, I could walk all the way to Canada,” John said.

  “Right, let’s get going before the shit really hits the fan.”

  John started forward but collapsed to the ground with a cry of pain. Kyle went to help him up, but Violet waved him off.

  “You need to use that gun, young man, and with only one good arm, you can’t spare one for John. You go ahead, and I’ll help him. I’m quite capable, you know.”

  He smiled at her slightly ascerbic tone, but she was right. He watched her struggle to get John back to his feet, and then draped one of her husband’s arms over her shoulder. She glared at him.

  “We’re fine, go on!”

  They made their way up the stairs and out into the hallway. Nolan checked that Violet was still holding out with John, and led them through the dining room and into the door to the huge kitchen. And found himself staring face-to-face at a group of armed men coming through the kitchen towards him. They gaped but quickly recovered, swinging up their gun barrels. Bullets ratcheted into breeches ready to fire, and fingers tightened on triggers. There was no course of action he could take, save one. Any resistance he offered would get the hostages shot. He threw down his Sig Sauer and put up his good hand.

  “Both of them, Gringo.”

  “It’s broken, you stupid fuck! Can’t you see it?”

  The man came down to him and swung his rifle. Nolan felt a crushing pain to the side of his head. He collapsed to the floor, but it was enough to cover his movements as he tucked his combat knife underneath a wooden preparation table. He watched as the man stood over him, wondering if another blow was about to land on his head. But at the last moment, a voice shouted, “Stop!”

  He looked up and felt an enormous relief wash over him. Behind Carol, a man stood holding an assault rifle. A black man, with a face he knew well. He’d obviously freed himself and appeared like a magic genie out of a bottle. Nolan stared at him.

  “Roscoe!”

  “Yeah, Chief Nolan. I wondered how long it’d take for you to get here. How you doin’, Chief? And who’s this with you? The cop?”

  He realized that Carol no longer had her pistol. She had dropped it when they bumped into the Colombians. They’d have made it clear there was no alternative. He looked at the armed men. They’d lowered their rifles when Roscoe appeared.

  “Yes, from San Diego. This is great, Roscoe. But we need to get out of here before the rest of them turn up. The Platoon will be here soon to finish off this place, so it’d be better if we were somewhere else.”

  “Is that so? What time are they set to arrive?”

  And then he understood it all. The Colombians were relaxed, smiling, and holding their weapons loosely.

  “You’re with them.”

  Roscoe rolled his eyed upwards. “Well done, Chief, you got it right in one. It’s a great gig, and more money than a man could spend in a lifetime. They’re good people.”

  “You won’t need much money, Bremmer. Your lifetime is going to be a lot shorter than you ever imagined,” Nolan snarled.<
br />
  “Is that so? What time does the action start, Chief?”

  “Fuck you, Bremmer. The first you’ll know is when they stick a gun barrel up your ass and blow your stupid brains out.”

  “Yeah?” He looked at Carol and nodded to one of his men. “The girl, put a bullet in her knees. One each side.”

  “0300, Bremmer.”

  Roscoe smiled. “That wasn’t too difficult, now was it? Carlo, go and find Mr. Rivera, and tell him we’re expecting company at 0300.”

  “Si, Senor.”

  The man ran off. Roscoe issued rapid orders in Spanish, and the Colombians gestured to Nolan to get up. He climbed to his feet. They gripped his one good arm and led him back to the basement.

  “Just a moment,” Roscoe shouted. “Search him, we don’t know what he’s carrying.”

  They stopped him and patted him down, found the grenades in his pockets, and Roscoe whistled appreciatively. “Wow, you could have done some damage with those.” He glared at his men. “Make sure there’s nothing else, then take them downstairs. When they’re locked away, join me in the control room. We need to prepare for the arrival of his friends.”

  “Bremmer, you fucker, you can’t do this to your own people,” Nolan shouted desperately. “Don’t you know the meaning of loyalty?”

  “Sure, I know what it means,” Roscoe grinned. Then his grin faded to an angry glare. “It means poverty in a white man’s world. It means being the token nigger wherever you go, and that includes your precious Seals. This organization has made me rich, man. It’s given me promotion and everything I could want.”

  “Surely you know this place is know to the authorities? It’s over, Bremmer. You’re finished.”

  The black man smiled. “Over? You don’t get it, do you? This business brings in billions. Sure, they’ll take down this place, but do you think we haven’t got others prepared?”

  “So why don’t you leave now? Why take the chance of tangling with the authorities?”

  Roscoe shrugged. “That’s the boss, the new boss, Manuel Rivera. He got pretty pissed over that business down in Colombia, so I guess he wants revenge. It means a lot to these people. Me, I couldn’t give a flying fuck for any of it, but if he wants payback, then he get’s it. Then we’ll move our business to a new location, and we’re back in business - us, and about fifty billion dollars. Maybe we’ll buy ourselves a whole state.”