Reprisal!- The Eagle Rises

by Cliff Roberts

  “Once you’ve made it to shore, we’ll signal the Harbormaster that we’ve developed engine trouble. We’ll try to stretch the delay for as long as we can, hopefully twenty-four to thirty-six hours, before they start giving us too hard a time. But we can’t count on that, so you’ll need to work as fast as you can.

  “Once we’ve moved into the harbor, we’ll only be there for twenty-four hours. We’ll first be moored in the outer harbor,” the captain moved the highlighter to the appropriate spot on the map, “and then when a berth clears around 4:30 a.m., they’ll move us to the pier where we’ll be unloaded. Even with us taking our good old sweet time, we’ll still be forced to pull away from the pier in just over four hours. We only have twelve containers to drop off and four to pick up. Then, we’ll be moored once more in the outer harbor, and the crew will be given the rest of the day for shore leave. Everyone must be back on board by midnight. When we leave the harbor, we’ll fake a breakdown again at the coordinates where we dropped you off and retrieve you. All together, we’ll have at best thirty six hours to get the job done.”

  “That’s not going to be easy,” David replied.

  The captain shrugged. “We’ll do all we can stall as long as possible, but the Cubans tend to be rather pushy. They don’t like having foreign freighters sitting around their harbor for too long. Any way we play it, 7:00 a.m. the next morning we’ll be expected to sail. If we need more time, we’ll develop engine trouble again, delaying our departure as long as possible. At best though, I’d suspect they’d only allow us a few hours more before wanting to either tow us out of the harbor or to the naval repair yard. Hopefully, if everything goes right, we will accomplish the mission without the Cubans realizing for a long, long time what happened to our friends or that we were involved,.”

  “This is going to be a real challenge to do in such a short time frame,” David stated. “We don’t know any real details, and it will take time to figure them out. Plus, if they are as security minded as you say, we’re going to stand out from the crowd if we go skulking down the alleys. I just don’t see how we’re going to be able to make this happen that fast,” David lamented.

  “Unfortunately, it’s all the time we have,” the captain pointed out again. “You’ll need to think fast and develop the plan on the fly. Exactly how you eliminate our friends is up to you. I’m sure something will come to mind once you’ve seen the actual setup,” the captain stated flatly, then added, “I’d like more time myself, but we don’t have it. Besides, aren’t you the guy who is supposed to be the best in the world at this type of thing? Your old man seems to think so,” Captain Conners questioned David’s hesitance, while challenging him. “You’ll find topographical maps in the system, as well as street maps, any photos we have, and oh, I forgot to mention, the Cuban Navy has a base at the entrance to the harbor. There will be patrol boats along the coast, so that means you’ll need to keep your heads down, coming and going.”

  “Oh, happy, happy!” Mitchell blurted out snidely. “I guess you’ll have to prove that you’re really that good, hey, Clarett?”

  “Let’s start with the maps of the coastline and see where the best place is to go ashore,” David ordered, ignoring Mitchell’s comment. Montoya though, gave Mitchell a look that could kill.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  They met up just before dark in the marina bay. They were dressed in what research said was the everyday garb of a Cuban laborer. They each had a wide brimmed straw hat; a white, lightweight, short sleeve cotton shirt; cotton slacks, either dark blue or black; and what appeared to be well-worn work boots. The costumes were created in the ship’s tailor shop which was manned by a team of six production tailors from Hong Kong. Another miracle find by Captain Conners in his travels. To make the costumes more convincing, each team member had his hair dyed black and received a spray tan to ensure they would blend in with the local population.

  Hanchell handed out their papers which backed up their cover stories about being laborers coming to town to find work at the docks. Hanchell assured them no one would be able to tell the difference between the real documents and those he was providing. What he didn’t explain was that the ship’s resident computer genius, Richie Stackhouse, had hacked into the Cuban government’s computers and appropriated all the documents they needed. Hanchell even supplied the names of several foremen at the dock, courtesy of the Harbor Authority Computers, so the team could claim they’d been in contact with someone and weren’t just showing up without a reason. Hanchell assured them that if push came to shove, one of the foremen would put them on his crew, but he didn’t say which one.

  In addition, each team member was issued a Glock with a silencer, several spare clips and a pair of the latest version of night vision goggles. They looked like regular shooting goggles, but they changed light intensity levels in the blink of an eye, providing the wearer with protection from being blinded by a sudden light source or lack of one. Each team member also received a couple of carbon fiber throwing knives, a pen light, a small amount of spending money, a local map and a change of clothes—all of which was neatly packed into a small canvas bag.

  Shields was the only team member issued a more powerful weapon, a Walther WA2000 sniper rifle. It came complete with night vision scope and silencer. It broke down to fit inside a very small, semi-hard canvas carrying bag which he simply slipped over his shoulder under his shirt, thus concealing it from view unless you looked at him from the side.

  Hanchell also handed out encrypted wireless communication links which utilized bone mics, allowing each team member to communicate with the rest of the team as well as the operations center. It fit deep in the ear, and unless you looked directly in the ear, you’d never see it.

  David didn’t like the fact the link also gave the operations center the ability to listen in and keep track of the mission without being asked to do so. He tried to impress upon Hanchell that he didn’t expect to hear from him unless he requested it. In other words, he told him to butt out.

  As the ship neared Cienforgo, Cuba, they radioed the harbormaster that they were going to be late due to some minor engine trouble and that they would anchor a few kilometers outside the harbor while they made repairs. Hanchell assured the harbormaster that they didn’t need any help, and they’d only be delayed an hour or two at most. He planned on calling them back once the team was underway and tell the harbormaster the repairs would take a little longer. He’d push for a day or two all in an effort to give the team more time to execute their mission.

  Once in the water, the black inflatable filled with men dressed in black combat coveralls skimmed across the calm water effortlessly with barely a whisper from the specially modified seventy-five horsepower electric motor. If there was a patrol boat working the shore, they would be hard pressed to see or hear the boat skimming across the water in the pitch blackness of the sea at night.

  They covered the two miles to shore in about fifteen minutes. There they stripped out of the black combat coveralls, stowing them in the boat and hiding it among the rocks. Then after burying the Zodiac more than halfway in sand, they covered the rest of it with old seaweed and some drift wood they found nearby. When they were done, you couldn’t pick it out from its surroundings.

  It took the team just under two hours to hike to the edge of town where the main road runs alongside the harbor providing a panoramic view of the port complex itself. The port dwarfed the city. From their vantage point, they could see the port was packed with men and equipment. Cranes and forklifts were busy loading and unloading cargo to or from half a dozen ships. Compared to the dimly lit town, the port was lit up like it was Times Square on New Year’s Eve.

  It wasn’t until the team reached the tree-lined central park, the area where all of the city’s hotels, tourist bars and its central market were located, that they encountered very many people. Here, there were a large number of people out and about for an evening stroll in the park, while others were shopping in the markets.<
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  Many of the people out and about were obviously tourists, who stuck out with their pale white skin and light brown hair. One group of men seemed overly fascinated by a woman who appeared to be a hooker. They were busy taking pictures of her, while acting like fools to get her attention. No one on the team could identify what language they were speaking, though Fields thought that it might have been Polish or maybe Hungarian.

  Quickly moving on from the evening’s entertainment, the team arrived at the small hotel called the ‘Paradise Palace.’ Hanchell had marked it on the map saying it should have some open rooms. David wanted to know how he knew that but never got the chance to ask. The hotel was located halfway between the docks and the safe house.

  Checking in by himself, as planned, David pretended to be a single man in town looking for work. The desk cleric was a dour, older man with white hair who was asking a surprising amount of questions. David was becoming concerned until he mentioned the dock foreman’s name, which abruptly ended the makeshift interrogation. The desk clerk actually smiled as he handed David a room key, suggesting he get some sleep because that particular dock foreman worked his men very hard. The rest of the team checked in at fifteen minute intervals with each member receiving the third degree by the desk clerk just as David had before receiving his room key.

  Once everyone had checked in, they met in David’s room where he set the watch assignments. “For our first watch, we’ll recon the site and the surrounding area. We need to know how many minders there are and when they change shifts. We’ll also need to find their FOP (forward observation post) and determine what, if any, electronic surveillance equipment they’re using,” David explained.

  “I’m guessing our friends feel quite safe here and aren’t taking any special precautions, but they are still dangerous, so stay alert. We need to know if there is a pattern to their comings and goings but only one man follows the targets, while the others continue to watch the safe house and surrounding area. Montoya and I will take the first watch. Then at 0700, Mitchell and Fields, you’ll take over. Shields, sorry, but you’ll be our eye in the sky and guardian angel, so you’ll need to remain in place the whole time.”

  “No problem. I brought plenty of stay awakes,” Shields interjected.

  “At 1500 hours tomorrow,” David continued without acknowledging Shields, “we’ll join up and stand the watch together for the rest of the day and night before we execute the plan, unless we get lucky and can execute sooner. So get some sleep,” he said as he glanced at Mitchell and Fields. “Use my room so we only have to go to one room when we come back. The little bit of sleep you get today is all you’ll get until we get back aboard ship. Any questions?” No one said a word. They all knew the drill.

  “Shields, stay alert for anyone following us in our travels. I don’t think we’ll have a problem since we’re passing as locals, but keep a sharp eye,” David directed. “I’ll set up at the small café across the street from the safe house. I’ll move down a couple of doors if people start getting too interested in me.

  “Montoya, you get the dicey job of walking around the neighborhood and checking for minders. Once you’ve done your recon, you’ll need to circle around the block and use the alley to access the rear of the safe house. Check in when you’re ready to recon it. I’ll be out front looking for any reactions from the locals. Remember, keep your voices down. We don’t want anyone wondering why you’re talking to yourself,” David instructed.

  Shields was the first to leave, slipping out the window of his room. He needed to be in place when the others began wandering around. David was next to leave five minutes after Shields, and five minutes after that, Montoya followed.

  Shields stayed in the shadows as he made his way towards the safe house. Along the way, he passed what he believed were a couple of minders lounging in doorways reading newspapers. Even though they weren’t very attentive, he gave them a wide berth while continuing to search for the perfect spot to use as his hide. A block from the safe house he found the tallest building around. It was a whole three stories and it was the only one in the area with a fire escape on the back of the building.

  He quickly climbed the fire escape to the roof, being careful to move as light-footed as possible in order to limit the amount of noise caused by his clamoring up the rickety metal ladder. No matter how hard he tried though, it was noisy. Luckily, no one seemed to notice. Obviously, security wasn’t as tight as the captain led them to believe.

  The building Shields chose had a flat roof with a slight pitch running front to back. The roof was coated with a black bitumen sealant or at least had been at one time. Now it appeared to be more patching tar than anything else. He was pleased to see there was a row of pallets running from the fire escape to some sort of an electrical box in the left front corner of the roof. From there he could oversee the street in both directions, and he’d have a clear view of the safe house.

  Shields pulled a thin black and white blotched sheet of plastic from his canvas tote bag. The plastic was non-reflective, and he’d use it as camouflage to hide under and to protect himself from the sun’s heat.

  He then spent several minutes looking through the night vision scope from his rifle, which he’d disconnected from its mount to help hide his presence. He scanned the other rooftops, searching for watchers or cameras but found nothing. He noted that there were two men standing on the balcony of the safe house smoking, and right across the street, a man was standing in a doorway cast in shadows, watching those two men.

  “One, Three,” Shields spoke quietly into his comlink.

  “Three, One,” David replied in a whisper as he walked slowly down the dark street towards the safe house.

  “I’ve got my eyes on the target. There is a minder across the street in the second doorway on the left and two vacationers on the balcony. The surrounding rooftops are clear and there is no obvious electronic surveillance.”

  “Roger,” David answered.

  David continued to slowly walk up the street, checking every window, every doorway. He was looking for security cameras or human resources as he went, but there was nothing. When he reached the corner closest to the safe house, he noticed there was a man sitting on the curb drinking from a dark brown glass bottle. David quickly decided he was a drunk, based on the man’s seriously dirty clothes and the fact that the man desperately needed a shave and a haircut. He made a mental note of the man’s face and continued on.

  Less than an hour after the team was ashore, Captain Conners changed his mind about delaying his entrance into the harbor. The harbormaster had called several times during the hour they had stalled, asking if they could send out mechanics to help. Hanchell politely refused their help every time. But when the Cuban Navy started sniffing around the ship, Captain Conners knew he wouldn’t be able to hold them at bay for much longer. So he had Hanchell alert the harbormaster that they were underway again, and they joined the queue of ships waiting to be led into the harbor. It had been just under two hours.

  Arriving at the small café two doors down from the Minder’s FOP, David took a seat in a shadow near the sidewalk. The only unnatural light besides the dimly lit café was the porch light across the street at the safe house. The street lights here, as in the rest of the city, were turned off. Obviously, electricity was used for more important things, like the port operations.

  As he checked out the people in the café, David was impressed with how perfect his clothing blended in with what the other locals were wearing. He had no doubt that the café customers thought he was just another dock worker having a late night drink. At first, David thought it strange that there were still a couple of dozen customers milling about at midnight on a Wednesday night, until the obvious dawned on him. This was a port city with a large shipping terminal. People would be working in shifts around the clock and at staggered intervals. So, of course, there would be people having drinks on a Wednesday at midnight. They had probably just gotten off work.

  D
avid ordered a cerveza from an older, heavyset woman who barely looked at him. He then sat quietly watching and listening to the people in the café as they discussed everything from their bosses to their families. He noticed that the woman who served him spent most of her time watching a young teenage couple at the rear of the café. They were holding hands and when she wasn’t watching them, they’d steal a quick kiss and then separate just before she turned to look again.

  It was a game to the teenagers, which for the most part they were winning even though the old woman had caught them kissing twice so far. Each time, the old woman went into near hysterics causing the kids to cringe and sink low in their seats, while the adults in the café snickered or smiled broadly. David thought it must be a universal concern of all parents, regardless of where you were on the planet, that their children not grow up too fast, and that as parents, they try to instill some morals in them before they left home to make their own way in the world.

  The almost comical scene started him thinking about his own family, now lost forever, and his attention began to drift but only for a moment. The sound of the old woman yelling once more drew his attention back to the present, and he refocused on the task at hand.

  Since David had arrived at the café there had only been a few people to walk past, and there had been no vehicle traffic at all. All of the pedestrians had been men dressed like him, except for one middle aged woman dressed in a red evening gown. She was obviously going home as she was carrying a sack with a loaf of bread sticking out of the top. As she approached, she quickened her pace and crossed the street, moving briskly without looking around. Once she was past the café, she glanced over her shoulder briefly before continuing down the street to the next corner where she made a right turn and disappeared from sight. David wondered if she might have had some sort of a relationship with the minder two doors down, because he had watched her intently as she passed. Perhaps they had been lovers, or perhaps the man abused his power and she had been the recipient of that abuse.