by Niv Kaplan
Two men were left to secure the retreat route and the rest continued through the maze of corridors, Devlin guiding from behind the two commanders. They reached the more modern section with steel doors and glass windows and crouched hugging the walls. They continued further silently passing the section Aziz and Devlin discovered as classrooms when suddenly a commotion broke out ahead of them.
Devlin launched for the Muslim prayer room he had visited the previous time and signaled Aziz to open the storeroom he had investigated.
The troop split up in a hurry finding shelter in the two rooms, the last of them able to hide just as a burst of light illuminated the corridor. They heard shouts and hurried boots storming the corridor, voices excitedly and passionately arguing in Arabic.
“The communications center is two doors down on the right,” Devlin whispered to Nesbitt. “The personnel office with the safe is the first door on the left as you go out to the yard at the end of this corridor.”
Nesbitt relayed the information via a portable radio to Lennon who had taken refuge in the storeroom with his men.
The commandos went into action.
Nesbitt opened the door a crack, looked quickly in both directions and ordered his men to follow. Lennon was doing the same with the Seals from the storeroom.
Nesbitt quickly ran, stooping, for the corner, his men following, guns at the ready. He checked both his flanks as the corridor split in two directions and practically crawled to the window to take a look. As he stood up, a burst of gun fire shattered the window throwing Nesbitt backward with force. The men threw themselves to the ground when more gunfire broke from behind them. Bullets started flying from both directions as Lennon’s men tried to get back in the store room.
They were caught in a cross fire.
At the front the SAS men were taking heavy fire from the split corridor and the courtyard. Sergeant Crawford raised his M-16 above his head and fired into the Communications Room, then jumped in through its shattered window, rolling on the floor firing blindly. A man in fatigues, bleeding from one arm raised his gun and shot the storming sergeant in the stomach.
Two more SAS men followed the sergeant, shooting the man from short range when more fire opened up on them from across the room. They hit the floor and fired back, bullets splintering the floor around them. The remaining SAS men crawled forward firing at the resistance from the split corridor and the courtyard while Lennon's Seals were firing at the threat from the back.
The corridor became a death trap.
A grenade came rolling toward the Seals exploding in front of the storeroom. Two commandos who were late seeking cover behind the door were hit. Lennon crouched at the storeroom door dispensing orders, trying to raise the Apaches on the radio.
“Razor One, Razor One, this is Shadow. Come in Razor One! We’re taking heavy fire!”
The uninjured Seals began to move along the wall, returning fire towards the back when they noticed the enemy had turned its attention away from them.
‘It’s Codey and Graham,” someone shouted the names of the troopers left to guard the tunnel entrance.
“Razor One, can you hear me? Come in Razor One!” Lennon was getting desperate. “No reception in here!” he shouted to the people around him. He had to reach open space.
Devlin and Aziz were pinned down in the Muslim prayer room. The door had been blown off its hinges and they lay behind the walls looking out.
Devlin heard Lennon’s plea and shouted across the corridor, pointing with his finger. “The courtyard, Sir, that way!”
Lennon heard him. He alerted three of his men pointing them in the direction, instructing the rest to hold off the attack from the back, and followed them toward the courtyard. The Seals moved quickly, linking with the sprawled SAS men who were engaging in heavy fire. Several grenades were thrown toward the split corridor and courtyard exit and the men rose and ran into the fire. They were able to terminate the fire from the adjacent corridor, but constant gunfire from the courtyard kept them from venturing out.
Lennon crouched by the wall trying to contact the choppers.
This time he was successful.
“Razor One here,” he heard the confident voice of the pilot.
“Engage the compound!” Lennon instructed “And bring in the troop carrier! We got casualties.”
A bullet struck the wall over his head and he instinctively lay flat on the ground. Heavy fire came from outside. Bullets sprayed the walls around them.
The two men he had sent to sweep the adjacent corridor were just back signaling him that all was clear.
“Start bringing the casualties in there,” he instructed, shouting over the noise. Two of the men crawled back to the main corridor under the barrage of bullets, while the rest remained in place, engaging the gunfire from the courtyard.
A battle was raging between the Seals and the force that had attacked from behind, who were caught in-between the main force and the two commandos who had remained guarding the retreat route. Sergeant Boone had no idea how many were there but he kept firing sporadically, the men around him doing the same. Someone was tugging at his boot. He turned and saw a darkened face talking to him, but he could not discern what he was saying. He turned and crawled to him.
“Lennon’s got the corridors taken and he called in the Apaches to clean the yard. He wants us to start assembling the casualties.”
Two of his men, including Lieutenant Gold, were hit in the initial attack, and two had been injured in the grenade blast, but he could not get to them, pinned under constant fire.
“Can you spare some men to help me assemble them?”
Boone looked around. He was left with five men, excluding himself, who were engaging the enemy. Lennon had taken the rest to get to the yard.
“How many casualties?” he asked.
“Nesbitt is dead. So is Sergeant Crawford,” the trooper informed him. “Larson and Lieutenant Murphy are badly injured. If the choppers don’t come in soon we’ll lose them. The rest are with Lennon holding the fort.”
From the corner of his eye Boone saw Devlin and Aziz peeping out of the Muslim prayer room.
“Take those two to help you,” he said, pointing to Devlin, signaling him. “We’ll give you cover. Tell Lennon to have the guys on the other side of this corridor take cover when we chuck a bomb at the assholes shooting at us.”
Boone crawled back to his men and ordered his explosives guy to prepare an improvised explosive device to chuck along the corridor.
Goodlad crawled toward Devlin and Aziz.
“I need help with the casualties here!” he called out over the noise.
Devlin and Aziz did not hesitate. They joined Goodlad and started pulling the bodies along the corridor toward Lennon’s position. Each was pulling a body they were not sure was dead or alive.
An explosion rocked the corridor and for a few seconds there was an eerie silence, then part of the structure began collapsing. They heard Boone call out: “Let’s move!” The remaining commandos moved toward the back, blitzing bullets, allowing Goodlad and his two aides to straighten up and carry the bodies toward the split corridor and come back for more.
Bobby Walker had managed to eliminate the second guard who came looking for his partner, shooting him with a silencer at point blank range before he was called to assist the troops in the compound. Together with Brown and Dillard, the two Seals left with him and Natasha at the garage they quickly left the garage, sprinted through the tunnel and now joined Codey and Graham who were engaging the enemy’s back when the explosion took place and suddenly there was a rush of men in fatigues toward them, firing from all weapons. The commandos managed to cut down the first wave but more terrorists kept coming at them. Being chased by an unseen force they simply ran into the bullets.
Walker took a bullet to the shoulder and Codey to the left arm and the five commandos retreated to the large hall behind the couch. Seconds later the hall was filled with smoke and a grenade exploded in back of them
but the advancing terrorists had used the cover of the smoke to flee through the tunnel.
Graham took some shrapnel in his back and was in obvious agony. Codey was holding his M-16, shooting with his good arm and Walker was seemingly unaware he was bleeding from his shoulder.
The smoke cleared and several figures appeared moving hesitantly along the wrecked corridor. Codey was getting ready to fire but Brown stopped him.
“Hold on, I think it’s our guys… Hey Boone is that you?” Brown called out loud.
“Where did those sons of bitches go?” He heard Boone’s Southern accent echoing from the corridor.
“They fled through the tunnel,” Brown said with obvious relief.
“Everyone OK?” Boone inquired.
“Codey, Graham, and Walker are hit but they’ll survive if we evacuate quick!”
“Where’s the girl?” Boone demanded.
“I gave her a radio and sent her back to the alley,” Dillard said.
“Let’s head back,” Boone commanded. “Lennon’s called in the cavalry.”
The five commandos came out from behind the couch and joined Boone and his five men in a slow trot back up the corridor. A large part of the ceiling and walls collapsed from the improvised bomb explosion but there was still room to pass among the broken concrete and fallen bricks.
The fire from the courtyard kept Lennon and his men at bay inside the compound, unable to venture out to the personnel office where supposedly the safe with the vital organization information was kept. Lennon was able to see through to the gate and he now realized it was opening up and just outside some reinforcements were jumping out of a truck.
He was looking out as the hellfire missile hit the truck and anyone around it, then a second and a third missile hit inside the courtyard and a fourth shattered the side of the compound, obliterating the entire side of the courtyard knocking Lennon to the ground.
“Shadow, this is Razor One, I think we’ve cleared the lot for you. I’ve got the troop carrier standing by. Where’s the LZ?”
Lennon sat up and grabbed the radio.
“Razor One, this is Shadow, great job! There’s an empty area a half click north of the compound. Can he land there?”
“Shadow, this is Iguana Two, I see it, I’ll try to land. Can you make it there?”
“Iguana Two, this is Shadow. We’ve got casualties, we’ll see you there. Razor One and Two, can you provide cover? Check the LZ first - there may be some bad guys out there. We’ll come out of the gate you just evaporated and head north along the compound wall toward the LZ.”
“Shadow, this is Razor One, en route, give us two minutes then come out, we’ll cover you.”
Lennon looked around. His people were assembled around him.
“OK, guys, we’ve got cover. Load up the bodies and wounded and let’s get the hell out of here!”
“What about the safe?” someone asked.
“Take a look,” Lennon suggested, “I think it’s dissolved along with the rest of the yard.”
Lennon was right. The entire office side of the courtyard was blown to pieces by the Apache attack. There was no point and no time to look for the safe.
They ventured out carefully, Lennon in the lead. It was mayhem. The missiles had decimated the courtyard. Two large craters had formed in its middle, bodies and body parts lying uselessly around. He saw movement and let a long burst of automatic fire toward where the gate had been. Several figures were fleeing the scene.
The Apache hung from above as the troop exited the compound and marched along a deserted street toward the LZ.
From her vantage point, hidden in the alley where they had initially come from, Natasha could see the two choppers circling the area before the larger one began to descend.
She dared not move.
Several figures had come out of the garage minutes earlier fleeing in all directions, some carrying others, looking spiritless and injured.
She had no idea what had occurred in the compound. The troopers left her in a hurry not saying much, leaving her the radio, instructing her to wait in the alley.
Since then she’d heard muffled shooting and explosions until several deafening explosions shook her and she began to wonder if anyone would come out of there alive.
The chopper landed, spraying dust and small pebbles. Its rotors kept spinning while the side doors opened and two dark figures with guns jumped out, cleared the spinning blades and crouched on the ground looking in all directions as if expecting an attack any moment.
The smaller chopper hovered above.
The radio crackled.
“Natasha, can you hear me? Over.”
It was Devlin.
“Yeah, right here. Over,” she replied, pressing the talk button.
“Can you see the choppers? Over.”
“Yeah, right in front of me. Over.”
“You in the alley we came from? Over.”
“Yes. What should I do?”
“Stay put! We’ll be with you shortly. If you identify any bad guys, let us know.”
“Got it,” Natasha said and the radio went silent.
It was several tense minutes before she saw the troop approach, a sorry procession of soldiers carrying their wounded on their backs and there were almost as many men being carried as walking.
The two dark figures went into action pointing the men to the helicopter’s side doors making sure they stooped under the blades.
It took seconds before the Black Hawk took off, shielded by the Apache. The two figures left on the ground took off toward the alley.
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
Sam was looking up into the sky, seeing nothing. He tried to imagine what his son would look like but was unable to form any picture. He felt for the photos he had prepared in his pocket. His heart was racing with excitement blended with fear.
What if they had been wrong? What if it was the wrong boy? Sam tried to work out in his mind all the possible scenarios. What if little Sammy refused to acknowledge him? After all, his biological son had just been ripped away from the only parents he ever knew and who was he to decide for him? The child would have no knowledge whatsoever of his past. For all he knew the people who raised him were his Mom and Dad.
He was eleven now. Not a child anymore. It would not be a given that he would play along.
Everyone was looking up as the black dot on the horizon slowly turned into a helicopter. It was early morning and the first rays of light were turning the Mediterranean from dark to misty gray.
Sam felt the tension rise in him as the chopper came in over the Larnaca Air strip and descended to the helipad, not twenty meters from where he was standing.
The boy came out first, supporting a woman in an Arab gown, who kept tripping on the tarmac. A trooper came to their aid on her other side and dragged her along.
It was still misty and gray, but Sam could see the resemblance right away. Sammy’s head was closely cropped but his face was a boy’s image of Michelle.
Tears came to Sam’s eyes as he moved forward to meet his long lost son. It was suddenly difficult to walk. Copeland noticed Sam’s hesitance and put an arm on his back supporting him.
Father and son stood staring at one another. The boy looked a little confused, the woman next to him continuously coughing, doubling up as if grieving over a dead relative. Copeland went over to her and tried to lead her away from the reunion but the boy would not let her go.
“I am your father,” Sam managed to say looking into the boy’s confused large blue eyes. “You were taken from me a year after you were born!” Sam added, seeing the boy more concerned with the coughing woman now being held by Copeland.
The boy looked around at the crowd that had gathered around them. Sam continued.
“We have been looking for you for over ten years now,” he said in a pleading voice. “All these people here helped get you back to me.”
The woman coughed again. Dori grabbed her, raising her head towards Sam and the
boy who were staring at one another.
“Tell the boy the truth!” he said in Arabic.
The woman coughed again then began to wail. The boy, looking aghast, went to her, hugged her and began caressing her hair.
Sam looked dismal.
Dori pulled the boy away from the woman and stood between them.
“She is not your mother!” he said slowly in Arabic. “You were kidnapped from that man when you were a baby! You are an American! Ask her to tell you the truth. Your dad's been looking for you for over ten years!"
The boy stood confused. He had not yet uttered a word but now he was looking more carefully at Sam who just stood there looking back.
“Mother, is this right?” he asked the woman in Arabic.
The woman increased the pitch of her wail.
Dori slapped her on the cheek and the boy jumped to her aid but Dori would not let him near her. "You think we would have gone through all this trouble if this wasn’t true?" Dori continued in Arabic making a sweeping motion with his free hand directing Sammy's attention to what was happening around him.
“Tell the boy the truth!” he demanded again holding Sammy at arm’s length.
The woman became quiet suddenly. All eyes were on her.
Then she nodded.
The boy bolted. He turned and ran toward an open hangar that housed a silent turbo-prop. Sam held up his hand to stop anyone from giving chase.
“I’ll do it,” he said and ran after the boy.
He found him crouched against the hangar’s tin wall, looking dazed, and crouched next to him.
“I’ve dedicated my life to finding you,” Sam said quietly in English. “My life completely changed when they took you.”
The boy had his head down and was scratching the asphalt with his fingernails.
“The name we gave you is Samuel Jr. or Sammy, after me. My name is Sam too. Our family name is Baker. But if you prefer I can call you Amir.”