by Brad Carlson
“Sure thing, I’m sure they’ve got a Pedro unit available. Would that help at all?”
“That’d be awesome if you could arrange that. One of these guys needs a medic pronto. You got a pen handy? I’ll give you the coordinates where they can meet us.”
“Just a sec . . . ,” Jim said as he found the scratch pad by his bed.
“We have two, count them one, two, needing immediate medical evac. Arielle and I can drive out if need be.”
“Forget that, if I’m sending a Pedro, all four of you are flying out.”
“Roger that, I’ll call you when we get to Al Tanf.”
“Stonewall, give me a chance to get a few hours’ sleep before you call, okay—we have a little bit to talk about. Okay, go ahead with the coordinates.”
“We’re about ninety-five miles east, northeast of Damascus . . . .”
“Jim’s sending a couple Pedros to pick us up,” Stonewall hollered to Arielle from the back of the 4Runner. “We’ll meet them in half an hour as we round that ridge up in the distance.”
“Wonderful! Can Ave hang on that long?”
“I think so. I think both of them are stabilized for now, though Ave’s hurt pretty bad. He’s lost a lot of blood.”
Al-Qadim Mosque, Raqqa, Syria
8:05 AM Local Time
“Eli, are you seeing this?” The Israeli scout radioed to his counterpart across the street from the mosque. “What’s with all the people here? Their last prayer time was two hours ago.”
“Not sure. Arielle said they’d probably be bringing our guys up here. From when she called, they should be here anytime. My guess? They’ll be putting them on display for everyone to see and let the world know how great the caliphate is.”
“Okay, here comes a Humvee. There’s a truck right behind them. I bet this is our guys. Both vehicles just entered the Mosque compound. How’s your view of the place?” Eli asked.
“I got ‘em. Taking them a little while to get through all of the people. Okay, they’ve stopped and appear to be unloading whatever, or whoever, is in back.”
“That’s our guys. I see ‘em.”
“Sure is. Okay, I’ll let the General know we’ve located our guys.”
VIII
Al-Tanf, Syria
8:15 Local Time
“Do you know what happened to the other Pedro?” Arielle asked Jackson as they landed at Al-Tanf.
“No, I don’t. I saw it break off from us a few miles back.”
“They went to our airfield about twelve klicks from the base,” the crew chief advised. “Your friend was in pretty bad shape so they’re taking him straight to Al-Asad.”
“Okay, I thought it was something like that,” Stonewall said.
“We need to find a place to change. You’re literally a bloody mess and my top’s pretty well shredded,” Arielle added. “I don’t necessarily need to wash up, but I really need to change.”
“We don’t have any women currently stationed here so I’d check over at the aid station, ma’am, if all you’re needing to do is change clothes.”
“That’ll do fine, sergeant,” Arielle replied, as the sergeant brought them to the aid station. “They’re still serving breakfast at the mess hall. That’s the building just opposite this one,” the crew chief indicated, pointing out the structure for them.
“Thanks, sergeant. Appreciate it,” Stonewall said as they both walked into the aid station.
Arielle emerged still wearing her cargo pants but she now had a black long sleeve Under Armour half zip form-fitting top. Jackson still wore his desert cammies, though he wore a black Under Armour compression T-shirt. “Glad they don’t have any women stationed here,” Arielle said to Stonewall as they walked towards the mess.
“Why’s that?”
“Zivah’s right. You and a black T-shirt like that look soooo good together! You could be Mars himself with that sculptured physique. You’d have every woman on base fawning all over you.”
“Yeah, well, you don’t have anything to worry about.”
“Oh, I know that. I just love seeing you like this.”
“Looks like we got here just in time,” Jackson said to Arielle. “No line and still a few open tables to sit at.”
“And do you see that over there in the corner?”
“We had a USO group here last month and they left that for us,” the mess sergeant said to Arielle, noticing her interest in the piano. “No one’s played it since.”
“Well, I’m going to have to check it out,” she said to Stonewall. “Grab me whatever you’re having.”
“Will do. I’ll be right over.”
While Stonewall grabbed breakfast for both of them, Arielle checked out the piano. Before he even left the breakfast bar, the unmistakable tune of ‘Hey Jude’ resonated throughout the room. By the time he sat down next to the piano, Arielle had captivated the entire gathering of soldiers and airmen in the building. Arielle followed ‘Hey Jude’ with ‘Let It Be’ and, for a change of pace, Jerry Lee Lewis’ ‘Great Balls of Fire.’
“You missed your calling,” Stonewall said to Dani as she sat down across from him and over the applause from the impromptu audience.
“Nah, I told you before, my sister’s the pianist in the family. She taught me everything I know. As it is, I find the piano a great escape from everything going on. But . . . seriously?” she asked suddenly noticing the bacon on her plate.
“What?” he replied with a huge grin. “Bacon’s practically an American staple. I mean bacon goes with everything. Have you seen the latest? Bacon maple bars—they’re amazing!”
“Stonewall, you can be so maddening at times,” she said as she tossed the bacon on his plate. “You’ve never had a ‘bacon maple bar.’ That’s just gross. You have one of the healthiest diets of anyone I know. The thought of bacon alone just clogs my arteries.”
“Yeah, but it tastes sooo good!” he said with a smile. “So, got something else for ya,” as he slid over a bowl of strawberry yogurt. “Didn’t know you were a Beatles fan.”
“I’m not really, so much as I really admire what they did. You realize these guys were in their early twenties when they went to the States—back in the sixties—and broke up when Lennon was just 30. Think about that—these four guys turned the music world upside down at an age that’s younger than either one of us. These guys, especially John and Paul, were geniuses. Plus, look at the men here. I bet there isn’t anyone here under twenty-eight. The Beatles’ music is one of the most iconic and recognizable there is. Do you think there isn’t anyone here who hasn’t heard any of their songs?”
“Good point. Guess I’m like most and just simply enjoy listening to them. Well, we’ve probably got a few hours to kill so I would imagine the troops here wouldn’t mind a little concert of sorts. You take requests?”
“Hardly a concert but, oh yeah, we’ll have some fun with this! They’ve got some music here and I know a few numbers.”
Ankara, Turkey
10:00 Local Time
“What the hell happened at Eskisehir?” President Demirel demanded of his national security staff.
“Mr. President,” the Director General of the National Police, began. “We have very little to go on. Shortly after Ataturk arrived a truck bomb exploded directly beside the building. We have several videos from neighboring security cameras and we have a clear picture of the truck and driver. The name of the company does not exist and we cannot tell if the driver ever leaves the building.”
“Do we know who did this?” the president asked.
“At present, no one has claimed responsibility,” the Director General replied. “I don’t think I need to tell you that the PKK and Daesh are the two main suspects. This kind of attack fits the MO of both groups so simply based on the type of attack, we can’t rule either of them out.”
“Given what we know of both groups, who’s the more likely suspect?”
“We’ve been conducting airstrikes in both Syria and Iraq, hi
tting the Kurds pretty hard. Just in the last week, we’ve hit multiple Kurdish cities with daily raids, usually with over a hundred sorties a day,” the Chief of the General Staff replied. “Lately, we’ve expanded on this and gone as far south as the oil regions of Kirkuk and Suleymaniya. Obviously, they’d be my first guess. There’s been a strong independence movement in northern Iraq and we’ve been trying to beat it back as hard as we can. This could be an attempt to strike back.”
“Have we taken a shot at their leadership yet? If not, let’s do it now.”
“We haven’t. We’ve been hitting their personnel and their economic infrastructure but not their political leadership. I’ll make sure we make that change,” the general replied.
Al Tanf, Syria
10:15 Local Time
“Colonel Jackson, Major Yaniv, I’m Colonel Matt Reyes, the base commander. Sorry I haven’t gotten over here earlier. I’ve been on a conference call with Centcom”—US Central Command—“and General Logan at JSOC”—Joint Special Operations Command—“and then had another one from a friend of yours, Jim Carmichael. He’s making arrangements with the Jordanians right now. We’ll get you on a helicopter to Jordan’s H-4 Air Base—that’s about seventy-five miles from here. From there, Jim’ll get you on a flight to Tel Aviv. I would expect you two’ll be home some time later this afternoon.”
“That’s great. I can’t thank you enough,” Dani added. “What about our two friends?”
“The one that’s more seriously wounded is still in surgery at Al Asad air base. The last I heard, they think he’ll be fine though he’s going to have a long recovery. The other one’s also in surgery, though he’s not nearly as bad off. He’ll be back on his feet in a week, two at the outside, from what they’re telling me.”
“That’s great news, Colonel. Thank you,” Arielle replied.
“Not a problem. I don’t mind delivering good news like that, especially when you’re the one who’s been providing the entertainment all morning. You rival what the USO folks did for us. Thank you!”
“Well, speaking of Jim, I kind of need to check in with him,” Stonewall said, as he dialed his satellite phone.
“Stonewall, how’s everyone doing?” Jim asked his friend.
“It sounds like they’re both going to make it, thanks to you. One of the guys was seriously hurt and they took him straight to Al Asad to get him into emergency surgery. We just heard they think he’s going to pull through.”
“Excellent. You can tell Tamir I’ll be sending him a bill for this one.”
“Will do. What else’s going on? You made it sound pretty important. Tamir told me about the attacks on Boston and New York.”
“I’m sure he didn’t give you the latest—it’s been a fast developing issue. I don’t want to take a lot of time with this, especially when Tamir has all of the intel so ask him for the latest update. As for right now, the Israelis are looking to put together a combined operation similar to one you developed with the Kurds a couple years ago, if you catch my drift. The president specifically asked that you lead this operation. He was pretty impressed with your last one.”
“We’re putting together a combined operation with the Israelis?” Jackson asked, casting a surprised look towards Arielle. “This has gotta be big. Yeah, I worked with the Kurds on a few things around northern Iraq and Syria awhile back and those were all combined operations. Of course, we planned a lot of operations we never launched as well.”
“I think we’re on the same page. Tamir will fill you in on all of the details on this as well when you land. For that matter, Dani might have a good idea as to what’s in the works. She might be able to answer some questions for you.”
“Tamir hasn’t really filled me in on anything, Jim,” Dani added, “but I think I can connect a few dots here and let Stonewall in on a few things.”
“Hi, Dani,” Jim replied. “Good, I don’t want to risk someone eaves dropping on this conversation but I at least wanted to give you a head’s up as your team looks to be pretty heavily involved.”
“Okay, thanks, Jim,” Dani replied, as Stonewall ended the call.
“So, what’s this little operation all about?”
“Tamir hasn’t told me anything about what’s going on but remember, he mentioned that he’d be sending us up to Latakia once we returned from this mission. If he’s putting together a combined operation, and my team’s that involved, we’re going after the S-400 missile system the Russians installed at their Kheimim Air Base outside of Latakia. Nothing else makes sense. We’ve looked at taking this thing out on our own but it’d be more than a little brazen on our part to attack this singlehandedly. If this was a Syrian system, it’d be no big deal. However, this is a Russian system, on a Russian base with Russian troops. For that, we’ll need your help, and of course, the cover your country can give us.”
“If we’re putting together an operation against the Russians, this is big, really big. They must have been the ones behind Hezbollah. Nothing else makes sense.”
“No doubt, but did you actually look at taking this thing out with the Kurds?”
“Nah, that’s what I meant when I said that we planned out a few things but never launched them. I had some Rangers on my staff and those Rangers can plan out anything—and taking out an airfield is their specialty—but we never really expected we’d do something like that so no one really took it seriously.”
“Well, we have. We actually have a couple safe houses on each side of the base that are continually occupied watching the base. I’m sure this is where Zivah’s at right now. I’ve been to each one a few times. We tend to go there at regular intervals to give the locals the idea that we’re seasonal tourists. With your help, it should be a lot easier than doing it on our own.”
“If I remember correctly, this base is pretty close to the coast. I imagine we’re talking something like a sizeable SEAL force joining you guys, right?”
“That’s what I’d expect. With the capabilities of your navy and the SEALs, I would think they’d come in very early in the morning, take out the missile sites, and then return to the sea still under the cover of darkness. We’ll be able to help with a lot of the logistics and probably split the base in half with the Unit taking half the base and the SEALs the other half.”
“A ‘hit and run’ raid, huh? Shouldn’t be too difficult, right?”
IX
Moscow, Russia
1:00 PM Local Time
“Where do we stand with the Americans and the Israelis?” Russian President Sergei Gromyko asked his defense minister.
“We’ve just recently intercepted a phone call from the Assistant Director of the CIA to one of his subordinates about a combined American-Israeli operation,” the defense minister replied. “We don’t know what, or when, this will take place but the intercept made it sound like something is definitely in the works.”
“What’s our best guess as to possible targets?” the Russian president followed up.
“The only obvious targets are in Syria, maybe northern Lebanon. There are a few Quds Force holdouts in the Damascus area and then Hezbollah has several newly established areas in Syria as well since they’ve had to vacate Lebanon. The call we intercepted was with Colonel Thomas Jackson. He’s the same colonel who led the raid in Tehran a couple months ago, so we are pretty sure this will be some type of commando raid and will most likely not include the Kurds—that eliminates a few targets.”
“What about some of our bases? Is there any possibility they could target us?”
“We don’t think so,” the minister replied. “Based on what Ambassador Chekhov indicated, the Americans know that two of the ships that attacked them are from our merchant marine. How much more than that, we don’t know, but they didn’t give Chekhov any indication otherwise. Since these originated from Latakia, I’m sure they’ve guessed we had a hand in this, though again, we don’t know how much they have learned. If Mossad has learned of our role, you can bet they’ll have tol
d the Americans. However, I haven’t heard anything about this, and if the Americans knew, you can be sure they’d be letting us know. Either way, the limited role we had in this that the Americans know we had wouldn’t warrant a military operation, let alone a combined one. As far as we know, they still believe this to be a strictly Hezbollah-Iranian operation—and there are plenty of Hezbollah targets in the region. Who knows, the Israelis might simply be looking for political cover for a large-scale operation against Hezbollah—something they’d definitely need. I’m sure they remember the fallout from their attack in Lebanon under Ariel Sharon back in the ‘80s. I wouldn’t want to relive that if I were them. Nevertheless, I’ll be placing our forces on alert throughout the region but I don’t see the need to send in any reinforcements at this point.”
“Okay then, how can we handle this oil issue? If they succeed in driving the price of oil below sixty dollars a barrel, it’s really going to hurt.”
“Mr. President,” the foreign minister replied, “I’ll be starting with the Saudis and seeing if we can’t get them to seriously cut back on production. They’ve been after the same missile system we have in Syria and I’d like to think that if we gave them a sweet heart deal on this system, they’d be willing to curtail their production to keep the price closer to where it’s at right now. I’ll be doing the same thing with Venezuela. Even though they are in America’s back yard, if we could introduce the same system to them that would be a huge coup for us—both in keeping the price of oil high but also give us another customer for the defense industry.”
“I like that. However, I still don’t like the US and the Israelis joining forces. You don’t have any concern with the Israelis and the Americans joining forces in Syria?” President Gromyko asked his defense minister.
“Concern? Of course there’s some concern,” the defense minister replied. “However, since the Americans haven’t even said a word about our involvement in this, I don’t think we need to worry. Again, as Ambassador Chekhov indicated, if the Americans learned of our role, they wouldn’t hesitate to not only let us know, but they’d also let the whole world know how deeply involved we actually were. So far, I think it’s been quite the coup in its own right.”