Lethal Authority (Wade Hanna Series Book 2)

by Joseph D'Antoni

  Yari and Charlie nodded.

  “When you make your move to the new location, stay as close to the brush line as possible. Give the shooter the smallest possible target at all times.”

  Yari started to ask another question when Wade cut him off. “Just listen to Charlie and follow his instructions. I’ve got to deploy.”

  “Good luck.”

  Inch by inch, Wade and Max pulled their bodies forward, relying only on elbows and knees for locomotion as they had been trained. Every few feet, the men stopped and listened for sounds and movement.

  Keeping his head low to the ground, Wade saw the heavy fog rolling in from the south. He thought to himself, You can’t see more than a foot in front of you. Even with a night scope the conditions are not ideal for a sniper. He hoped the sniper was dwelling on the same thought.

  Twenty minutes passed, and the men advanced a few feet further. Branches and leaves were becoming wet from descending fog and mist. Their position wasn’t comfortable, but the moist leaves and wet ground ensured greater protection from discovery as they moved closer to the sniper with every pull.

  After fifty feet of alternating crawls and stops, Wade heard something in front of him perhaps twenty yards away. The sound appeared to come from a thorny thicket to his left. His first thoughts were of a deer or one of the many animals which roamed the woods, often feeding at night, but he couldn’t be certain. He assumed Max heard the same noise.

  Wade stopped his crawl and just listened. His senses, keen from so much time in the swamp, focused on a single point of sound. The soft sound pattern he heard was movement over wet leaves – which meant it wasn’t being made by an animal or something that crawled.

  Wade changed the timing of his intermittent crawl-and-stop pattern to one with longer pauses in between. His mind raced, trying to identify the sound he heard for the second time. It sounded like the quiet steps of a boot exerting pressure against wet leaves. One slow step up, then a pause before the down step. After hearing the sound again, he was certain it wasn’t coming from a four-footed animal.

  Wade wanted his next movement to be quieter than his last. He slowly collected wet leaves under his body, and then tested the padding with a gentle roll to his right. His roll made no sound at all. There was no new sound from his shooter, but Wade was two feet closer to the source. His immediate thought was, This shooter is well trained.

  He could no longer continue to move in a straight line. More leaves and another quiet roll put his new position behind two large tree trunks at a different angle to the shooter. His change in direction might cause the shooter some confusion about Wade’s actual position. He was now comfortable with letting silence work its magic on the shooter’s mind.

  Snipers usually position themselves for the best possible visibility, not sound. Wade stayed behind the large tree trunks. His low profile made a clean shot extremely difficult. To lessen his infrared signature, he covered himself with cold, wet leaves, hoping they would lower his body temperature and thus the chance of visual recognition.

  Wade wanted the shooter’s recognition of him to be based solely on sound. He once again rolled twice to his right, stuffing more wet leaves over and under him to muffle his sound and signature. Wade crawled another two feet closer to the sound he’d last heard.

  This time Wade broke his pattern by remaining still even longer. He hoped the silence would cause the shooter to think he was closer than he really was. With two people coming closer on both flanks, sooner or later the sniper would figure out his position might be compromised, and either fire or leave the area.

  After two more rolls to the right and several short crawls forward, Wade heard nothing. He wondered, Are the two of us playing the same game? Wade could only hope Max was approaching in the same manner.

  His stomach tightened as he felt the increasing stress of waiting. A flash back to the USS Prowfish came vividly to mind, with visions of the cramped, even claustrophobic submarine quarters. Remembering the strain of not knowing the location of the Soviet sub or who would fire first, he remembered how it felt to be so close to death, and sweat poured from his body.

  Wade slowed his breathing, telling himself he had better control over his current situation. He had gotten as close as he could; the next move was in the sniper’s court. Wade froze himself in time. Seconds seemed like hours before he heard the crack of a twig. Another crack soon followed. The pattern of sounds became synchronized. The target was moving away from his position.

  He lay still to confirm the sounds were footsteps. It could still be a trap if there was another shooter involved. Wade carefully raised his head a few inches to better position his ear. He noted the direction of the sounds and counted footsteps in order to estimate the distance and how rapidly it was being covered.

  Wade had to be certain there was not a second shooter. He heard an unfamiliar sound to his left and wondered, Could that be Max? He didn’t want to give away his position until he was sure.

  Wade signaled by making a bird call with his cupped hands. It was something he’d learned in childhood from hunting in the swamp. Max heard the call and recognized it was Wade. He replied with a simple, “Yo.”

  Wade responded in a low quiet tone, “Forty feet to center slowly. Watch for second shooter.”

  “Confirmed.”

  The two men crouched behind two large spruce trees, just weary from their “pull.” Wade turned to Max. “The shooter went off in a westerly direction from my position. He had a good stride once he cleared those thickets. He was really hauling.”

  “He was good. I think he sensed us but wasn’t sure of our positions.”

  “We were lucky to have this dark overcast night.”

  “You’d better believe we were lucky.”

  “I think we should try to preserve some evidence here until we can report the incident. Let’s see if we can find his shooting position. There may be a spent cartridge or footprints. Get some twigs to use as markers.”

  Wade began tearing his undershirt into marking strips. A few yards away, the men found the shooter’s lair. The area was surrounded by bushes strategically arranged for maximum cover and a stable platform. The floor of the clearing was trampled down to ensure steady footing. There was even a cleared escape path leading off to the south for his departure.

  “He was here quite a while before he shot. That tells me he was waiting for us to return from our mission,” noted Max.

  “I don’t see any spent cartridges. He may have removed his brass. There are some footprints leading out in that direction,” Wade said, pointing to several indentations. “Be careful where you walk – don’t destroy any footprint impressions.”

  “There’s a wet area over there that has some good prints on the other side of the puddle. We should mark that.”

  “I see it. I’ll tag it.”

  The men followed the shooter’s escape path for thirty yards until it ended at the beginning of an open field. There was a thicket on the other side of the open field, but it was too dark to see much on the other side. Wade couldn’t see much past the mist that had settled over most of the field.

  “We need to stop here. We don’t want to be exposed in that open field. He’s probably on the other side of that thicket, scoping us right now.”

  The men continued marking evidence in the dark and returned to camp. Red Team was once again huddled in a second bivouac but without the benefit of a fire. They set up doubled watches around the perimeter. No one got much sleep the rest of that night.

  Dawn came early with a hot rising sun and little sleep. The group had assembled around two large stones in the center of the clearing to discuss their next steps.

  “We have another cache to capture, but I’m more concerned about what happened last night. The incident needs to be reported. Problem is, I’m not sure at this point who we can trust. We have to cross a dirt road about two klicks west before reaching the last cache. Just to be on the safe side, let’s move toward the last cac
he, staying out of sight until we get to the road. There might be a training monitor on the road.”

  “If we find a monitor, we’ll report the incident, but probably blow our chances to win the exercise. If we don’t find a monitor, we’ll move forward with our planned diversion for cache five, and report the incident when the exercise is over at noon.”

  Yari could barely contain himself. “Who gives a damn about the exercise? I almost got killed last night.”

  No one responded to Yari’s comment. They spread out silently, moving through cover toward the road. No one said it, but Wade, Max, and Charlie were of the same opinion, that the sniper might still be on their tail. After a quarter mile of hiking, staying within the forest thicket, Wade held up his fist as a sign for everyone to stop.

  Each took cover under or behind the closest bush or tree. The road was visible in the morning light. Off to the left stood a training monitor with a bright green arm band, standing in the middle of the road near his jeep.

  The team members went a short way back into the thick forest to quietly converse. Unanimously the team asked Wade to approach the sergeant in the road while the others remained out of sight and under cover.

  Wade went around the forest and approached the road from a different direction from where his team waited. Waving his hands and yelling as he left the protection of the forest, he called out to the monitor. He crossed the ditch and walked up the grade to road level, carefully watching the monitor’s eyes and movement.

  He explained to the sergeant what had happened the evening before, and the sergeant immediately went back to his jeep and called headquarters on the two-way radio. Wade gave the signal for his men to come out of the woods.

  The sergeant repeated what he’d been told by headquarters. “You and your men wait here. Colonel Miller will be over shortly.”

  The Red team members came out from behind assorted bushes and assembled on the road around the sergeant.

  It wasn’t more than ten minutes before Wade saw the rooster tail of dust behind a vehicle heading quickly towards them. Like a lizard crossing a hot asphalt road, the Colonel’s vehicle moved with purpose and then came to a quick stop just fifteen feet in front of the sergeant’s jeep.

  Colonel Miller emerged from the passenger seat, and his driver followed, leaving both vehicle doors open.

  Turning to the sergeant and then to Wade, the Colonel asked, “Are you the one reporting the incident?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Miller wanted to isolate Wade from the rest of the group. “Step over here, son. The rest of you stay where you are. Let’s start with an introduction.”

  “Yes sir. I’m Wade Hanna from Intelligence in Washington D.C., taking part in the Sniper Navigational Training Class. For the last two days, we’ve been participating in the cache exercise. I am leader of Red Team and those are my men.” He pointed back to his men standing in the road.

  “I’m Colonel Miller, second in command at the base. Tell me what happened, Mr. Hanna.”

  Wade quickly recounted their response to the sniper’s action of the previous evening, careful not to leave out any important details. Miller listened intently, following every step and waiting to ask Wade for more details.

  “How do you know it was a rifle shot?”

  “I’ve heard the M-21 with a silencer and fired it myself many times, sir. I believe the crack I heard was the incoming round hitting a branch a split second before hitting the tree next to Yari. I believe that incoming branch probably diverted the round just enough to miss his head.”

  The Colonel commented in a doubtful tone. “Last night was a dark, overcast night. Sometimes in the field you hear strange sounds…”

  “Sir, I am certain of what I heard. It was dark last night. I think a night vision scope or night goggles would be the only way that shooter could come that close with a round. I think the evidence at the location will speak for itself, sir.”

  Miller waved over his driver, who was standing a few feet from the car. “Get Captain Padilla on the radio.”

  Colonel Miller turned back to Wade. “We have a forensics team on base. I’m calling them in on this. I hope your facts are correct, or I’m going to have egg all over my face. Do you understand that, son?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The driver turned and said, “Captain Padilla is on the line, sir.”

  Handing over the phone, Miller and Padilla spoke for some time. Wade overheard the Colonel say he wanted the forensics team on the site right away as part of a crime scene investigation.

  Handing the receiver back to his driver, Colonel Miller started walking toward the men of Red Team standing with the sergeant. He turned to the sergeant and said, “Let’s wait until forensics arrives.”

  The Colonel then addressed the rest of the waiting men. “We’re going to call off the cache exercise at this point. I want Sergeant Martinez to find Blue Team and have them return to the barracks and report to my office. I’m going to wait with Hanna and go over details with forensics. You men return to the barracks, get cleaned up, and grab some chow. Meet at my office for a debriefing at 1100 hours. Someone from my office will handle the debriefing.”

  “Yes, sir,” the Red Team acknowledged in unison.

  “Sergeant Martinez, I want Red and Blue teams kept separated – no discussions between them until after debriefing.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Chapter 9

  Dusty rooster tails rising from the road caused Miller and Wade to turn their heads at the same time.

  Pointing to the dust trails, the Colonel said, “I suspect that’s our forensics team.” Miller then turned to Wade. “Show me where the incident took place.”

  “About a half a click south of this point.” Wade pointed into the woods where there were no roads.

  The Colonel turned to his driver. “You stay here, and have the forensics team follow us. Turning back to Wade he said, “Lead the way, son.”

  Wade proceeded into the forest with Miller following. They walked slowly but deliberately on and off small paths deeper into the forest toward the clearing Wade knew would soon appear.

  Approaching the clearing, Wade pushed two branches away so the Colonel could pass. “Here’s our first bivouac.”

  Wade showed Colonel Miller the branch in the tree where the round impacted. The Colonel came in for a closer look as Wade pointed to the source of the projectile, saying, “The round came from that direction and impacted small branches in this area.”

  Wade stood where Yari had been standing and used his arm to simulate a straight line into the bush. “I figure the shooter was about seventy yards away in that direction.”

  The Colonel went over and stood behind Wade’s shoulder, sighting down his arm.

  Wade explained the position of each man around the campfire, pointing so the Colonel could see their relative positions. Colonel Miller was not focused on the damaged branch. It was clear the branch had suffered a high velocity impact from the direction Wade previously indicated.

  “Sir, there are probably lead fragments in that tree bark that might help identify the composition of the bullet.”

  “I agree. Good point. I’ll have forensics take that branch back to the lab.”

  Wade showed Miller where he and Max had rolled and started their crawl toward the shooter. The Colonel remained silent, mentally reenacting the sequence of events as though they were all occurring at that very moment.

  “Did you hear any additional shots?”

  “No, sir. I felt we were dealing with a trained sniper just from the way he moved. I think he was surprised to find us coming toward him.”

  “Why do you feel that way?”

  “I had the sense that he knew approximately where we were, but because of the bush, heavy fog, and dark night, he couldn’t get a fix on our position or a clear shot.”

  Miller wanted to know when they first heard a change in the sniper’s movement. Wade replied, “We were thirty yards from the target wh
en we heard him change positions. He was moving to our right.”

  Wade walked to the spot where he’d heard the movement and pointed in the direction the shooter took. The Colonel continued walking slowly down Wade’s crawl path.

  “How could you tell he was on the move?”

  “I could hear the leaves move under his feet. I also heard several small twigs break. If you look at this terrain, it’s almost impossible to move without making some sound.”

  Miller was now in a crouch, rubbing handfuls of leaves in his hands to sense the moisture content and replicate the sounds the shooter may have made before commenting. “The morning sun has already dried out these leaves a little. Was he moving slow or fast at this point?”

  “He was moving very slowly, and trying to make as little sound as possible.”

  “At what point did you hear the sound pattern change?” The Colonel followed Wade down his crawl path to the larger stand of trees Wade used as cover.

  Wade stood behind the trees and pointed to where he’d heard the steps.

  “Did you ever catch sight of him?”

  “No, sir. By the time I felt certain there was only one individual, he was pretty far away. Max and I followed his path to the edge of an open field and couldn’t see far into the field from that point.”

  “Let’s walk over to that field,” said the Colonel.

  When the dense undergrowth opened to the field, Wade pointed to the where they had been standing.

  “A heavy fog had rolled in, covering the field up to about seven feet high. We didn’t want to take the chance of entering that fog bank unarmed. I suspect the shooter was either in the fog or on the other side in that thicket.”

  “Do you have any idea who this shooter might be, or why he targeted you or your men?”

  “No, sir, not for sure.”

  “What do you mean ‘not for sure’?”