Hunting Savage

by Edlund, Dave;

  Following personal introductions, Nyden distributed communication headsets to the foreign agents. The comm gear had limited range, but every member of the team could send and receive messages over the squad network.

  It was an hour before sunrise.

  “I doubt Peter Savage has moved during the night,” Nadya explained. She had already briefed Nyden prior to their arrival, explaining the loss of most of her team.

  Only hours ago, Nyden made the phone calls and assembled a squad of other Guardians, all hard men with military training and prior combat experience. Pilots and aircraft owned by United Armaments were used to ferry everyone to the staging area at a secluded UA test facility stretched across a remote patch of desert in Eastern Oregon.

  The giant defense contractor also fully armed the team and provided the Battlehawk. The helicopter, an armored version of the venerable Black Hawk, was employed by UA as a test platform for a new laser-guided missile system it was developing.

  “If we move quickly, we can be at his location in less than an hour,” she added, her voice barely a whisper. Marcus stood to the side, silently sizing up Richard Nyden.

  “You know his location, so why wouldn’t he move on?”

  “He thinks I am the only survivor, that he killed the rest of my team. Plus, he has a good field of view and a stone fortress for cover.”

  “And if he’s not there?” Nyden said.

  “Then we track him. He has his dog, so the trail will be unique, easy to follow.”

  She indicated the location on her GPS in topographical display mode, zooming in so the features of the crescent-shaped stone formation were evident. Then she switched to satellite display to reveal the scattering of trees amongst an otherwise open landscape.

  “It’s a good defensive position,” Nyden said. “With good weapons and visibility, he can hold off a considerable attacking force.”

  “Now you understand,” Nadya said, sarcasm evident in her voice. Nyden let it go. He wasn’t sure yet what he thought of these Israeli agents, but he had a score to settle with Peter Savage. At least for the moment, that’s where he would channel his aggression. Of course, it didn’t hurt that he’d negotiated a bigger payday late last night in the process of organizing this assault team. It seems the escalation of events with law enforcement and the elimination of two-thirds of the Mossad team had motivated his employer to finish this assignment quickly.

  “Do you know if Peter Savage has NVG equipment? Civilian or military?”

  “It’s possible, but I didn’t see any,” Nadya answered. “All of our encounters were in daylight.”

  “Although it would be very unusual for him to have night vision equipment,” Nyden observed, “Mr. Savage has already demonstrated he is a very unusual man. Plus, my sources tell me he has contacts within the Defense Department. So, we will assume he has NVGs. Maybe not current generation, but we will proceed on the assumption he can see in the dark.”

  “We have to be smart, advance cautiously. He will wait for our approach, and then pick us off one by one, just as he did to my team.”

  “Not this time,” Nyden remarked disdainfully. “The Guardians are all handpicked. They know combat.”

  Nadya cast her gaze around the assembled mercenaries. “Maybe you’re right. We have enough men. We can get into position, surrounding him before sunrise.”

  Nyden considered his options as he surveyed the land. Everything shown clearly although the electronically amplified images were in shades of green and gray. Naturally he had reviewed recent satellite images of the mountainous terrain prior to helicoptering in, but there was no substitute for first hand observations. The rises and dips all looked steeper in person, the open expanses larger.

  He opted for a different plan, one that would keep his numbers hidden from Peter Savage until contact was made.

  “Ashcroft,” Nyden called.

  A man—several inches shy of six feet, and with three parallel scars across the side of his face—was standing in front of Nyden in four strides. Beside him were the two dogs that had been lowered in slings.

  Marcus and Nadya stared at the beasts. They were not the largest dogs they had seen, probably a little over two feet at the shoulder, but they appeared massive—thick limbs, and bulky chest and head. Thick, long fur covered their bodies, even cascading over their eyes.

  “What are those?” Marcus asked.

  With pride, Ashcroft answered, “Black Russian Terriers. They were bred by the Soviet Army at the Red Star Kennel during the Cold War. Their goal was to achieve the perfect military and police dog.”

  “You can discuss canine genetics and breeding after the mission.”

  “Sorry, sir,” Ashcroft replied.

  Now that he had Ashcroft’s attention, Nyden explained the plan. “We will split into two squads. You and the dogs are with me.” He turned his attention to Nadya and pointed at her. “You’ll lead the second squad. I want you to go north, circle around the target’s coordinates. I’ll take my squad south and approach from that direction.

  “We are to take Peter Savage alive if possible. A bonus will be paid to the persons who apprehend him in one piece. My boss has some questions he’d like answers to.”

  “Well, I doubt he will just give up and walk out with us,” Nadya said.

  “Wound him, incapacitate him if you can. If not, kill him. But remember, the bonus is paid only if Savage is alive.”

  Silently, like a pack of wolves on the hunt, the nine Guardians and two Mossad operators moved out at a fast pace toward their objective.

  “That didn’t sound like a search and rescue helo,” Jim said. “And I didn’t see any running lights.”

  Boss Man and Homer had jumped out at 30,000 feet and glided in the still night air to a perfect landing. With no idea where Peter might be, they moved slowly and stealthily within the trees, aiming to be positioned on the slope of Broken Top by daylight.

  At the sound of the approaching helicopter, they dropped and squeezed up against the closet tree or boulder. If the helicopter was hostile and equipped with thermal imaging, they’d almost certainly be spotted.

  But the thump of the rotors soon gave way to the whine of receding twin turbine engines as the aircraft passed over. Seconds later, the sound became consistent in pitch and intensity, indicating the helicopter was in a hover, and not far away. Moments later, the sound faded.

  “Could be a Black Hawk,” Homer whispered.

  “If it is, they just inserted up to eleven combat troops, all gunning for Peter.”

  “It would seem you guessed correctly and Peter is in these woods.”

  They stalked in the direction they estimated the helicopter had hovered prior to departing the area. It was impossible to be certain how far away that was, but based on the attenuation of the sound, Boss Man and Homer both agreed it had to be at least half a mile, maybe farther.

  Had it not been for their NVGs, it would have been impossible to move through the forest and maintain any progress. With a clear sky, there was abundant starlight to amplify, enabling easy visibility even within the tree line. The biggest obstacle was the never-ending collection of dry branches on the forest floor. A heavy boot snapping a dry limb would be a sure signal of their presence.

  The frigid night air was now a blessing, for Boss Man and Homer could move swiftly without overheating. Balancing pace with stealth, they advanced along the vector where the supposed Black Hawk was heard. If it was a Black Hawk, then it would have unloaded military men—mercenaries who fought for money, not ideals. Trained men, deadly men, who had no qualms about killing anyone for any reason as long as there was a payday at the completion of the job.

  Ahead, the trees thinned. Cautiously, Boss Man and Homer crouched and approached, stopping at the edge of the wooded patch. The meadow opened up before them, and continued to the west, following the slope upward.

  Boss Man turned on his GPS system. “This would be a good spot to rappel men.”

  “The distanc
e we traveled is about right,” Homer added in agreement.

  Boss Man was still studying the GPS unit when Homer asked, “Where to now?”

  “If it were me, I’d be ahead of the enemy, up at high elevation. Make them fight up hill.”

  “Any of these groves of timber could make reasonable defensive positions, especially for an ambush.”

  But Boss Man had his eye on another location on the GPS display. “We’ll stay in the trees and keep moving up to high ground.”

  Chapter 28

  Eastern Drainage of Broken Top

  April 22

  Peter awoke to a deep bass-like reverberation. He stretched his limbs, and his knee immediately protested. Probing his other injuries, he drew in a deep breath, expanding his chest slowly. At least the bruised ribs were barely noticeable.

  He immediately recognized the sound for what it was—a helicopter—and he silently cursed for having fallen asleep. How long was I out? He checked his watch—he’d been asleep for almost an hour.

  The rhythmic sound of beating air was growing louder, although Peter estimated the helicopter was still a considerable distance away. He was searching the night sky to the east, where the sound was coming from, but could not make out any aircraft running lights. After half a minute, the sound began to recede.

  A minute later and silence returned to his wilderness.

  It was the lack of aircraft lights that had Peter worried. He looked to Diesel—his companion was watchful, staring into the darkness beyond.

  Peter’s anxiety only increased as he thought through the possibilities—none of which were good. Only a search and rescue helicopter would be out here in the dark, and they would be flying with their exterior lights on. By logical deduction, he concluded that a new enemy had arrived, a black ops team. How many men, he had no idea.

  Peter thumbed his GPS and the screen illuminated, showing a detailed map of his present location. He considered his options. He could stay, but the woman knew his location. Although defensible, if there were enough enemy, he could be surrounded and forced to fight off an attack from the front and rear. Not a good proposition, even at his current fortified location.

  “We have to go, Diesel.” He selected a set of coordinates and saved them to the GPS memory and then downed another couple ibuprofen tablets. Although he was reluctant to leave his defensive position, at least he could still use the element of surprise to his benefit.

  About a mile to the east of Peter’s presumed location, Nyden split his team and sent six, including the two Mossad operators, to the north, while Nyden’s squad broke to the south. Each squad would follow a course on their GPS that would take them another mile from the crescent rock formation and loop them around to the west. From a higher elevation, the two squads would fan out and assault the stronghold from the west. With eleven guns engaging Peter along a long front, Nyden and Nadya were confident in success.

  Each squad continued to move along their routes at a brisk pace, almost a jog. As much as possible they stayed just within the tree line, but at this high altitude the trees were less frequent, giving way to large open expanses of powdered pumice and gravel.

  Nadya and Marcus stayed close to one another; they weren’t sure yet how deep their trust of the Guardians went. They each held their rifles with both hands, ready to snap the weapon to a firing position.

  Even with six pair of boots pounding the ground, the sound was barely audible. The green-tinted image projected by the NVGs made the path as clear as if it were a sunny day.

  Both the north squad and the south squad kept up their pace despite the thin air and steep slope; there was no time for even a short break. To the east, the horizon was beginning to take on a light glow: sunrise would arrive soon.

  Both squads reached their GPS coordinates at almost the same time. They were about 300 meters to the west of the geologic anomaly. Nadya spoke into the communication headset. “We’re in position.”

  A moment later came the reply from Nyden. “Copy. South Squad is also in position. I can see clearly into the crescent formation, but no one’s there.”

  Nadya was studying the curve of fractured lava rock as she listened.

  “Are you sure this is where you encountered Savage?”

  “Yes, I’m certain,” she replied irritably.

  “Well, unless there is a cave or something down there, our target’s gone.”

  Eleven pair of eyes were scrutinizing every inch of the rock and boulders. Nothing.

  “I suggest we move closer,” Nadya advised.

  Nyden considered his options. He glanced at Ashcroft. The Black Russian Terriers were sitting obediently at his side—motionless, quiet. Failing to think of a better course of action, he agreed. “Everyone spread out in a line. Use whatever cover you can, but move forward in unison. Halt when I give the order.”

  They still had the advantage of darkness, although not for long. Of course, if Peter Savage had night vision equipment, he would have already spotted them.

  Without a sound, the 11 assailants formed a line 100 meters in length and descended toward the flat meadow filling the west side of the rock crescent. When Nyden estimated they had closed to within 200 meters, he ordered the team to stop. They took what cover they could find, some lying prone and motionless on the gravel.

  “If he had NVGs, he’d have seen us by now,” Nyden said.

  Nadya replied right away. “Or he’s asleep. I still don’t see any sign of him, but the dirt looks disturbed at the right end of the ledge. Do you see it?”

  Several seconds of silence passed while Nyden—and every other team member—scrutinized the ground where Nadya had directed their attention.

  “Yeah, I see it,” Nyden answered. “I don’t like it. If he’s there, why haven’t we spotted him yet?”

  It was a good question, and Nadya did not have an answer.

  “Here’s what we’re gonna do,” Nyden said. “Nadya and Marcus, you split, flanking right and left. Search the formation and we’ll cover you from here.”

  She looked to Marcus, who was by her side. He nodded, signaling he was ready. As one, they rose and darted down the slope, separating as they advanced. Soon they each arrived at opposite ends of the lava protrusion. Then, with rifles pointed forward, they advanced methodically—always aiming wherever their eyes looked.

  Nadya came across the disturbed ground where Peter and Diesel had settled in for the night. No objects had been left behind. She continued her search and soon found the shallow cave; again marked by footprints and paw prints, leaving no doubt they had camped here.

  Continuing to work her way forward, searching along the junction between meadow and rock, she found more footprints. But there was no other cave, no hiding spot to conceal his presence.

  There was only one conclusion—Peter Savage was gone.

  Peter and Diesel had climbed quickly and were now close to the Tam McArthur Rim. With the sheer cliff to his back—to the west—he could focus his attention on the lower approaches from the east. That is the direction the enemy will have to come from.

  The terrain was close to level at the edge of the Rim, and Peter selected a spot at the cusp, where the land just began to slope downward. The trees remained stunted and scattered, but the volcanic origins provided plenty of dense igneous rock formations for shelter.

  He selected one particularly promising thrust of rock about three feet thick, with a sloped side facing downhill and a perpendicular face on the opposite side. It was plenty wide and cleft in the middle, the crack wide enough to peer through. He settled in behind the shield, testing his field of view. Good enough, he thought.

  The sky to the east was grey, and soon the sun would rise above the horizon. Not ideal at all. I won’t be able to get a clear image in the scope when the sun is low in the morning sky.

  Peter shouldered his rifle and scanned the terrain before him. Nothing. No sign of anyone—just wilderness.

  With the approach of dawn, the forest was slowly
waking up. First it was the gray tree squirrels descending from their homes in an endless search for food. Then the ground squirrels emerged from burrows on a similar quest. As the sky continued to lighten, the feathered inhabitants—nuthatches and chickadees—began to stir. All this activity created a commotion that was in stark contrast with the stillness and silence of night.

  Every disturbance of air or rustling of foliage became a new focus of interest for Diesel. His head was in a constant state of motion as he swiveled to each new sound.

  Against this curtain of life, a deadly threat approached undetected.

  Chapter 29

  Sacramento, California

  April 22

  Still on her first cup of coffee, Lacey was reviewing the latest intelligence updates that had come in overnight when she was joined by Stephens. They each had their laptops open and a scattering of papers covered a major portion of the conference table.

  “I phoned Angela Meyers already and left a voice message. Nothing useful from the local law enforcement.”

  Lacey was tapping the table with her pen, only partly aware of the brief report from Stephens. Suddenly she rose and started to pace the length of the conference room.

  “What is it?” Stephens asked.

  Lacey held up her index finger. “What if this has everything to do with the Liberty incident, and yet nothing at all?”

  “I don’t understand, ma’am,” Stephens replied as her mind immediately went into overdrive, trying to catch up with whatever line of reasoning her boss was following. “How can it be both?”

  “That’s an excellent question.” Lacey regained her chair and selected a paper from the dozens on the table. She slid it across to Stephens.

  A minute later her eyes widened. “Wow! Are you suggesting what I think you are?”