Ruth moved out of the shadows, “hello Roy.”
“Good evening Ruth, under any other circumstances we could all be having a drink on this island of paradise.”
Roy slung a bag over to Max, “your kit Max; I thought you might want to join in on the action?”
Max looked over at Ruth, “well go on, you don’t need my permission just don’t forget to come back for me.”
“No chance of that happening gorgeous, stay here and keep you head down.”
Once Max was dressed, he showed the teams a rough sketch he had made of the island and buildings.
Each team consisted of six men; Max quickly gave them a SITREP followed with the action plan.
Teams one and two led by Roy Smith would land near the harbour where the hotels water sports equipment was situated and take out the guards, teams three and four would make their way back to the beach by the villa, Max and Ruth had been occupying.
The plan was based on stealth, speed and surprise used by many Special Forces units around the world.
They would surround the reception building where the hostages were being kept; take out any guards and then
using stun grenades assault the reception building.
Teams one and two would move in from the harbour and sweep the island for any stragglers following the main assault.
Teams one and two paddled their R.R’s. arriving at their location first spotting two guards sitting around a make shift fire seventy-five yards to their east, both were smoking and their voices could be heard as they conversed between each other.
As soon as they had landed on the beach Roy had begun using close range engagement hand signals, having quickly assessed that on this extremely quite location any sound made via their Comms would possibly be detected.
Roy scoped the area for any other hostiles, once satisfied he gave the hand signals to two of his men, indicating with his left hand and raising two fingers, he then raised his weapon pointing it towards the two on the beach.
The two OSC men were carrying the single fire bolt action suppressed L96A1 with a ten round 7.62 NATO round magazine propelling the round at three thousand feet per
second, the tripod was supporting the rifle.
Each six-man team always had a sniper specialist, even though every man was capable of performing this action.
Both snipers had their bodies in line with the weapon as
much as possible-not at an angle, as this presents less of a target to the enemy and their bodies were in line with the weapon as much as possible-not at an angle, as this presents less of a target to the enemy.
Each sniper began the aiming process by aligning the rifle with the target when assuming a firing position. They pointed the rifle naturally at the desired point of aim, by adjusting the weapon and body as a single unit, rechecking, and readjusting as needed, each sniper achieved a true natural point of aim.
Once the position was established, each sniper aimed the weapon at the exact point on the target, in this case the head.
They commenced their breathing control by inhaling and exhaling to achieve the natural respiratory
Pause, they had their index fingers low down on the trigger, but clearing the guard.
Each sniper took a slightly deeper breath and then exhaled; this caused the breathing muscles to relax
thus avoiding strain on the diaphragm, at this point they both fired simultaneously.
At that close range, both rounds found their targets instantaneously, penetrating the skulls and causing large exit wounds as they exited.
Each sniper had kept the trigger fully back only
releasing it when the recoil had stopped.
Roy had observed the kills through his binoculars, and immediately gave the CRE arms signal to move up using his
right arm moving it from his back and forwards alongside his waist with his hand open.
The two teams moved forward checking the two bodies confirming they were dead, Roy raised his left arm palm facing down above his helmet and pointing his weapon forward, the team immediately understood the signal, to cover this area.
Within a minute the area was secured, Roy could now use his Comms, Eagle four to three harbor area secured over.”
“Roger that four out,” Came the reply back from Max.
Max and his two teams had made it to the villa, and were know moving silently towards the main building that came into view after a few minutes.
Max gave the command to fan out and hold, he scanned the area with his binoculars, the two guards were still at the entrance to the reception building, and Max carefully scanned the remaining area with no visible signs of movement, just as he was putting the binoculars
down in his peripheral vision he spotted a small reddish glow to the left of the building amongst the shrubbery.
An armed man smoking appeared walking towards the reception door.
The two guards acknowledged him as he approached and
entered the building.
Max spoke quietly into his Comms, “Snipers I want those two guards taken out, and as soon as they drop; team three move in and use stun grenades through the open windows, and then move rapidly inside, kill all hostiles, team four provide cover outside, any hostile making a break and kill them.”
“Okay mask up,” each man donned his SF-100 respirator with tinted eye pieces to protect against the flash and the respirator itself guards against the effects of the smoke and gas released by the grenades, whilst ear-plugs protect the trooper’s hearing.
We are taking no prisoners on this one, right snipers take them out.
The two snipers took around half-minute to set up, the suppressed shots were fired and the two guards crumpled to the floor simultaneously.
Team three moved rapidly forward followed by team four, several stun grenades were thrown into the building via
the open windows.
The stun grenade contains a mercury and magnesium
powder, which upon detonation creates a blinding flash, equivalent to 300,000 candlepower.
The 160 decibels of sound produced by the grenade not
only shocks and stuns but is also loud enough to disrupt
the balance function of anyone in range, causing severe dizziness
The aim of the stun grenade is to disorientate and distract hostiles in a room, giving the entry team a few precious moments in which to enter and neutralise any threats.
Inside the reception area the stun grenades exploded, the peace and quiet of the island had been disrupted, the hostages and terrorists instantly became disorientated, team three were already in the room as the detonations began, within seconds short suppressed shots were taking down terrorists, their training from the killing house was now being utilized to devastating effect by the OSC team.
Team three moved swiftly through the large room and within fifteen seconds all hostiles in the room were dead.
Now the room was cleared of hostiles, three of team four were escorting each of the hostages outside.
Five minutes later all hostages had been checked and
cleared as non-combatants, this was always done to ensure
no hostiles had intermingled with them.
Max spoke, “team three do a head count of hostiles.”
A few moments later came the reply, “thirteen in here
plus the two on the door and we have fifteen KIA’s.”
Max quickly added the two on the beach front, “we have three missing.”
Roy Smith had been listening to the radio chatter and spoke, “eagle four to three, we will begin a sweep of the island.”
“Roger that four,” replied Max.
Max began checking the dead hostiles looking for their leader Ajaz Ahmed; he turned
over the last body and quickly spoke into his Comms, Eagle four one of the missing is Ajaz Ahmed.”
“Copy that three, out.”
Max walked outside where the hostages were being untied when a large explosion ripped through the air from the direction of the sea.
“Eagle four; can you identify the source of that explosion?”
Roy had not only seen the explosion but had felt it, turning towards its origination, he was now looking out at the sea and could see a plume of smoke rising from the
old boat Max and Ruth had hidden in; now it was a total
wreck and engulfed in flames.
Roy felt within him the enormous hurting of what he now had to transmit to his good friend.
“Eagle three to four SITREP on the explosion over?”
Verdugo Hacienda
Bucaramanga Colombia
Lat = 7 degrees, 8.3 minutes North
Long = 73 degrees, 6.1 minutes West
Wednesday 21st December 1988
Twenty twenty-six hour’s local time
Sam Winnett had been observing the Verdugo ranch for several minutes from half a mile down the road, the rain had finally stopped however; the humidity was stifling.
He turned to Sergio still handcuffed in the back, “what’s the security like at the ranch?”
Sergio just gave him a sneering “look gringo; I brought you here you’re on your own, do what you want with me, for surely as the sun will rise in the morning; you will not live to see it.”
Sam looked at Sergio, “thank you; you have just answered my question.”
Sam exited the car and opened the boot; he uncuffed Sergio from the grab handle, and quickly forced him to lie face down on the back seat. Sam recuffed his hands behind his back and gagged him with his hanky; then dragged him to the boot and expertly struck the back of Sergio’s neck causing him to become unconscious. Sam then rolled him into the boot compartment shutting the boot lid.
Up at the ranch a pair of binoculars was trained on Sam
Winnett, behind them were Ramiro Cubrero whom had observed Sam; park up and bundle Santiago into the boot.
He turned to Toledo Verdugo, “the English gringo is now making his way towards the ranch senior.”
“It was good of our informant at the British embassy to make us aware of this man Ramiro.”
Once they had been made aware of Sam Winnett’s presence and what he was after, they had dispatched a man to keep watch at Santiago’s apartment.
From that moment on, every move Sam had made had been observed.
Their informant had also advised them Sam was an MI-6 agent.
“What do you want us to do with him senior?”
Toledo paused for a few moments whilst he pondered for the right decision.
“Take him alive,” replied Toledo. “It will be interesting to question him; he may have more information on this Project Reaper.”
“Si senior,” with that Ramiro spoke into a two-way radio.
“Take the gringo alive and take him to the ranch secure room.”
Sam had made his way to the perimeter wall that was a good nine feet high; he jumped up and grabbed the ridge
pulling himself up.
He landed on the grass on the other side and instinctively drew his weapon and walked in a crouch posture through about twenty feet of small trees shrubbery before coming to the wide expanse of a beautifully cared for lawn.
He crouched right down surveying the area; there was no choice for it; but to make it quickly across the one hundred yards of lawn.
He sprinted forward covering the first fifty yards in several seconds when the whole area was suddenly bathed in bright light like it was daylight; he immediately froze into a knelt position his right arm extended with his weapon pointing forwards.
The silence was broken by a voice from a speaker system, “Senior Willett; we have been expecting you, lower your weapon and throw it behind you.”
Sam paused for a few seconds, when several shots raked the lawn to his left, “gringo don’t test my patience, now get rid of the gun.”
Sam threw the gun behind him, “now place your hands fingers intertwined behind your head; I’m sure you are familiar with this process.”
Sam complied; he heard the sound of several pairs of feet
Moving into towards him, he felt a powerful blow to his
back knocking him the face forward into the ground and
driving the wind from him.
His hands were roughly pulled down to his waist and secured, his weapon was quickly recovered and then two pairs of hands dragged him up and walked him towards the house, five minutes later he was in a brick built room about nine feet square, a bed and a plastic bucket were the only items in the room.
His hands were released and the two captors left him, they closed the door, which looked like solid oak about four inches thick, a heavy lock mechanism turned.
Sam sat down on the bed wondering how he had been rumbled.
Bucaramanga Palo Negro Airport
South America.
Lat = 7 degrees, 7.5 minutes North
Long = 73 degrees, 0.9 minutes West
Thursday 22nd December 1988
Seventeen fifty-one hundred hours local time
Charlie Papa 89 Hotel touched down on the single runway at Palo Negro airport and taxied to an area on the east side of the airport, the pilot shut the engines down and one of the two cabin crew opened the door and lowered the integral stairway.
The outside humidity quickly engulfed the interior.
A car was waiting on the apron alongside the plane; Professor Hooke stepped down the stairway onto the apron followed by Ramón, it was dark and clammy, the apron was wet and steaming from the early evening heat adding to the clamminess.
Ramón opened the car’s rear door, “after you professor.”
A minute later they were leaving the airport and turning left onto Route 66 heading south several minutes later they entered the town of Giron picking up route C-70 heading east.
Professor Hooke noticed a road sign; six miles to
Bucaramanga.
His geography was not the best but it confirmed what
Ramón had told him about their destination.
Twenty-five minutes later having journeyed through
Bucaramanga they were driving down a long road with a high wall on the right, the car slowed down and turned
Right, a large gate opened and the car moved forward onto a gravel surface, the area immediately lit up revealing a beautiful building about half a mile ahead.
The car pulled up to the main entrance, a man approached and opened the rear left door, Ramón exited followed by the professor.
Ramón extended his arms and spoke, “Your new home professor.”
Baros Island Maldives
Lat = 4 degrees, 16.4 minutes North
Long = 73 degrees, 26.2 minutes East
Thursday 22nd December 1998
Twenty twenty-three hour’s local time
Max was sitting on one of the hotels chairs surrounding the swimming pool, his bowed head in his hands. His emotions were a mix of grief and anger having just been informed of the explosion on the derelict boat where Ruth had been waiting.
He was remembering their first encounter, when she had followed him and Strayker to ICIS, how she had been shot with a tranquilliser dart, how feisty she had initially been when interviewed and then her capitulation to her dilemma.
Strayker had seen something in her; and she was offered the job as the OSC’s press liaison officer.
That was nine months ago.
He sat heavily; yet shivering in the barmy evening heat, he felt nothing but an empty coldness that was frighteningly i
cy at the pit of his stomach.
She was dead.
No, he told himself she was alive, he allowed himself a
slight smile, no; do not be ridiculous.
Ruth is dead.
He stood up and lashed out with his right foot, kicking the chair into the pool; he looked up into the clear starlight sky and emitted a primeval roar into the silent night; Nooooooooo...
He looked down at the pool, “No” he said again, very softly.
Roy had been watching his friend from a short distance away, giving Max some time to come to turns with his loss.
He now approached him, “Max; I’m sorry for your loss, I should have left a man with her.”
Max turned and looked at his friend, “No Roy; I should have stayed with her and let you lead the assault.”
“How the hell did he get away from us Max?”
“I don’t know Roy; but this planet is not big enough for him to hide, I will have my revenge on Ajaz Ahmed.”
One of the OSC men came running over to them it was
Manny Gall, eagle seven.
Manny stood all of five feet five inches in height he was the smallest of the OSC team, his complexion gave away his native heritage jet-black hair and very dark brown eyes he was built like a whippet, lean and sinewy.
Manny’s skill’s as a tracker were legendary earning him a
place on the original selection of members for training.
Manny’s great grandfather was named white feather of the Lakota Sioux, whom had arrived in England in 1887.
It is hard to imagine One hundred Native Americans living in 19th century Salford Manchester. Nevertheless, it happened when Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show came to town.
An Indian named Black Elk and some others including Manny’s great, great grandfather were left behind when the show left town without them.
White feather had been seeing a local girl that resulted in Manny’s grandfather. White feather settled in Manchester and died at the beginning of the First World War fighting in France.
Like his father before him, at the age of 6 years he was sent back to the homelands in North Dakota from Manchester to learn the tribal skills.
Project Reaper Page 6