Odessa Strikes

by Bobby Akart

  She regained her composure and shielded her eyes to see. “Their boat’s really on the move. I think they’ve seen us.”

  “Let’s introduce ourselves!” yelled Gunner.

  Gunner was closing on them, so Cam steadied herself and pulled her sidearm. “I’ll be wasting ammo at this range. We’re gonna have to get close.”

  “Bear said two of them are carrying shouldered weapons under their jackets. I wonder if it was these two guys.”

  Without warning, one of the guards turned in the rear seating area of the Chris-Craft and opened fire. The staccato gun bursts sent several rounds skipping across the lake to the port side of the fishing boat, leaving brief splashes of water as they missed their mark.

  “I guess that answers our question!” shouted Cam.

  Gunner veered to the right to pull even with the fleeing boat. He slapped the grip bar affixed to the dashboard. Cam gripped with one hand and kept her handgun trained on the other boat. Gunner turned hard to the left and approached the Chris-Craft from the side, risking taking on fire but at least making their boat a much smaller target.

  “Take the shot,” he shouted to Cam.

  She released several rounds, two of which missed, but one struck the side of the boat just below the gunwale.

  “They’re taking evasive maneuvers,” she shouted as the silhouettes of two of the passengers appeared to go below deck, and the other men readied their weapons. They returned Cam’s fire.

  Bullets tore through the fiberglass hull of the boat above the waterline. Gunner set his jaw and continued, leaning down behind the wheel to lower his profile to the shooters. The fishing boat knifed through the water, and Gunner turned slightly to give Cam a better shot at the security personnel. He also pulled his weapon and steered with his right hand while he opened fire with his left.

  The four of them fired wildly at one another, neither side hitting a human target while riddling each other’s boats with bullet holes. Suddenly, the half-windshield in front of Gunner exploded.

  “We’ve got company,” he yelled as he pulled back on the throttle and swerved away from the Chris-Craft, skipping out of the kill zone to mount a defense against the newcomer.

  A hundred yards away, another boat had appeared from the west, their approach obscured by the sun, which was dropping between the mountain ridges.

  “Gunner, we’ve got a problem. One of their bullets caught the port engine. It’s leaking oil.”

  Gunner turned to study the gauges just as the other boat began firing again. He ignored the warning signals and throttled down again, keeping the bow raised as he turned toward the oncoming boat. Their attackers’ first volley of bullets missed them, but the second one stitched half a dozen holes across the hull.

  “They’re gonna be on us as soon as the hull drops,” he yelled. “We’ll have one shot at taking them out.”

  Cam lowered her body against the port side of the boat, raising her handgun in case their attackers approached on her side. Gunner did the same.

  The bow of the other boat appeared on Gunner’s side, so he shouted to Cam to join him. She rushed across the deck and slid on her knees to the side of the boat, her weapon pointed at the target as it appeared.

  The two operatives fired simultaneously, their bullets exploding through the windshield of their pursuers’ boat, ripping through the head and neck of the boat’s driver.

  One of the two remaining men opened fire, his bullets sailing high over Gunner’s and Cam’s heads. Then the pursing boat careened wildly out of control, taking a hard left, resulting in the gunman being thrown overboard.

  Gunner opened fire on the last passenger on the Odessa boat, shooting him in the back as he struggled to gain control of the fast boat. As soon as the other gunman’s head bobbed above the lake’s surface, Cam fired a single round into his skull, killing him instantly.

  The two were still on edge as they waited for anyone else to show themselves in the boat that uncontrollably drove in circles in the center of the lake. The sun had set, and visibility to the west had improved somewhat. They both watched for another vessel that might be trying to intercept them, but none showed up.

  “I think we’re sinking,” said Cam. “The bow’s dropped quite a bit.” She unlatched the door leading to the cabin below the foredeck. There was some water accumulating on the floor in addition to the blood of the boat’s owner. The bullets that ripped through the bow had struck him multiple times. He lay in the lake water facedown.

  Gunner glanced into the darkened cabin. He grimaced. He certainly hadn’t wanted the man to die. However, he didn’t have time to lament his choices. They were in the middle of the lake, and the boat was taking on water. Despite the warmer temperatures during the day, as the sun set, the icy waters of the deep glacial lake would be unbearable it they had to swim for an extended distance.

  Without saying a word, he shut down the port engine and gave full throttle to the starboard side. The boat moved at half speed toward the shore below the rock formations rising out of the water. The tree-covered ridges stuck out into the lake like green, Grinch-like fingers gripping the dark water.

  Cam slapped Gunner on the shoulder and pointed to their left. “I see it. There. See the silhouette?”

  Against the clear, orange sky created by the setting sun, Castle Bariloche stood alone on top of the ridge, daring anyone to try to enter.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Puerto Cantaros

  Lago Nahuel Huapi

  Argentina

  The fishing boat was still afloat when Gunner pulled it up against a fallen pine tree on the north shore of the remote west end of Lago Nahuel Huapi. Cam stepped over the bow onto the tree after confirming it was stable. Pulling a dock line, she steadied the boat while Gunner allowed the stern to swing around toward the bank. As it slowly made its way into position, he retrieved the dead fisherman from below deck and gently laid him behind the center console. He apologized again and then prepared to send the man and his boat back toward Bariloche.

  “I’m ready when you are,” announced Cam as she grabbed the side rails of the boat so that it remained parallel to the fallen pine.

  Gunner carefully stepped over the rail and dropped to his hands and knees on the pine. He leaned into the boat and gently pressed down the throttle to slowly power the vessel away from shore. The two operatives pushed the boat away from the tree, and at a steady pace, it disappeared into the darkness in the general direction of where the final gun battle had taken place.

  They walked along the pine, using its decaying branches to maintain their balance. They’d just reached the shore and taken a seat on the rocks to rest when the faint, high-pitched sound of a boat motor could be heard in the distance.

  They both looked toward the vessel they’d just pushed away. Its low rumble was consistent with a boat that was moving through a no-wake zone. Cam noticed the source of the new motor first. She nudged Gunner and pointed toward their right.

  Two more fast boats rounded the bend, their spotlights leading the way, as they’d been dispatched to intercept the interlopers. Gunner and Cam had avoided being attacked again by less than five minutes. It would’ve been a battle they couldn’t have won.

  Gunner reached into his pants pocket and retrieved his cell phone. He powered it on and checked for a signal first. He didn’t expect to find one, and he was right.

  However, his global positioning app, which bounced a signal from the satellites flying in near-Earth orbit back to his cell phone, was working properly. He was able to retrieve the coordinates of their rendezvous point with Bear.

  “A little over two clicks to the northwest,” he said as he showed Cam the display.

  She nodded and said, “So much for the element of surprise, right?”

  “Yeah. But we didn’t plan on knocking on the front door anyway, did we?”

  Cam laughed and then took a deep breath. She knew they needed to get moving. “Just call me spider woman.”

  Gunner s
tood and offered his hand to help Cam off the rock. The two dusted off their backsides from the sandy soil mixed with peat, and surveilled the side of the ridge they had to climb.

  “There’s no easy way to do this,” observed Gunner. “We can make better time walking along the water’s edge, but we need to keep an eye out for their patrol boats. If we see them return, they could wash the shore with their spotlights.”

  “It’s better than up one side of this ridge and then down the other, only to have to climb the next one to the castle.”

  Deep in thought, the two crawled up and over some fallen pines along the shore while also climbing onto large rocks to make their way closer to their rendezvous point. At the base of the ridge where they landed was a natural treasure for that part of Argentina, known as the Cascada de los Cantaro, or Cantaro waterfalls. People came by boat to the dock at the base of the ridge, where they could then make their way on a self-guided hike to where the two ridges meet.

  Castle Bariloche was on the next ridge at the top of a rocky cliff overlooking the lake. It was impossible to hike up the southeastern face of the bluff, so curious visitors to the falls made no attempt to get a closer look. Those who attempted to hike through the woods were met with armed guards and vicious German shepherds to ward them off.

  Bear had to drive to the Argentina-Chile border in order to then backtrack to the top of the falls. The road was narrow and treacherous. Once he reached the trail to the falls, it was possible for him to drive around, or through, the barriers during the nighttime when there were no hikers present. Based on Cam’s calculations, assuming Bear didn’t run into trouble, they’d arrive just after he did in approximately two hours.

  As they methodically made their way along the shore, fatigue began to set in for the two operatives. The boat attack had taken its toll, but the slow going through the wilderness was causing their bodies to tire. Their ascent up the cliff and onto the outer corridors of the south face would challenge their strength and stamina.

  They didn’t have a choice. Having lost the element of surprise, two things were likely happening. Their targets were preparing to flee by whatever mode of transportation was available to them. And their security team would be on high alert as they defended their employers. The Gray Fox team’s only hope was to approach the castle via the nearly unapproachable southeastern wall.

  At the base of the waterfall, they paused to drink the fresh spring water that cascaded through the rocks until it reached the lake. It was cold, pure, and refreshing. They took a break before they started their ascent up the ridge to meet Bear in the parking area of Cascada los Cantaros.

  “Hey,” Bear’s baritone voice boomed through the quiet solitude of the forest. “You guys owe me for this.”

  Gunner stood and swung around, his handgun gripped and pointed into the dense thicket of trees. “Bear? How did you find us?”

  “There’s cell service at the top of the ridge. Jackal was able to track your phones. I figured you were making your way around the base, so I thought I’d save you a climb.”

  “Thanks,” said Cam, who hoisted her body off a rock near the water’s edge.

  Bear came into view with two large duffel bags slung over each of his muscular shoulders. He gently dropped them in a cleared area covered with pine needles. He illuminated the space with his flashlight and then bathed them in light.

  “Y’all okay?” he asked as he noticed their exhausted faces.

  “Yeah,” Gunner replied. “Had a little trouble on the water. Is this everything?” He pointed toward the duffels.

  Bear knelt down and unzipped one of the bags. He removed clothing, weapons, ammo, explosives and the equipment that would make their climb up the side of the ridge as well as up the side of the castle much easier.

  “It took me two trips, but we saved a lot of time and effort on your part,” he began to explain. “I take it our sneak attack ain’t gonna be so sneaky.”

  Gunner joined Bear’s side and examined the contents of the duffel. “Unfortunately. We may have to change our approach to dealing with these Gruber guys and their bad boy from the KSK.”

  “Has anything happened stateside today?” asked Cam.

  “No. Lots of chatter on typical terrorist networks. The feds are spending a lot of time in New York and LA. Ghost is having to dodge phone calls from other agencies, who now believe he’s hiding intel from them. He’s having a hard time of it.”

  “We’ll know a lot more by dawn,” said Gunner. He stood and patted his buddy on the shoulder. “I suspect we’re gonna come out of this fortress in a rush, if you know what I mean. I need you to either eliminate or distract as many perimeter guards as you can. It’s gonna be hard enough to escape once we’ve found what we need without being chased into hostiles waiting for us on the outside.”

  “Ghost has a message that might help,” said Bear. “No prisoners required. Get all the information you can. He wants video and photo evidence. And then, he said, for all he cares, you can blow the damn thing off the cliff. His words. Not mine.”

  Cam laughed. “Do you get the sense we need to get Ghost out into the field so he can let off some frustration?”

  “Dude, he’s feeling the pressure just like the rest of ’em. People want answers for Levi’s Stadium and Detroit. But they’re also scared that the attacks aren’t over.”

  Gunner nodded before turning around to stare up at the castle sitting atop the ridge. There was just enough light from the rising crescent moon to remind him of the near-impossible task ahead.

  “Let’s roll, guys.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Castle Bariloche

  Argentina

  Gunner and Cam began their hike up the ridge toward the base of Castle Bariloche. The temperatures dropped as the evening wore on, and as clouds developed overhead, light flecks of snow began to drop on top of their heads. The thought of making the final treacherous climb to the castle in snowy conditions gave the pair a new sense of urgency, causing them to pick up their pace. Their gear was heavy. Both their resolve and will were strong enough to carry the load.

  It took a little over an hour to make the steep trek up the rocky slope dotted with a variety of evergreens that sprouted out of the side of the cliff. At the two-hour mark following their departure below, Bear would roam the woods as an assassin, seeking out Odessa security personnel and quietly eliminating them. If they alerted Odessa personnel within the castle, it might draw them into the open and away from the climber.

  The imposing castle was a marvel to view from the lake below. Standing at its base and looking up the chiseled stone exterior confirmed to the Gray Fox team how daunting their task was.

  Approximately fifty feet from the base of the castle, a walkway had been built that ran the perimeter of the castle. Their goal was to reach this walkway, neutralize any guards, then find their way inside. Unlike their entry to the Knight Gruppe offices, they were completely in the blind on this mission. There were no floor plans on file with any governmental entity. No architect drawings were proudly displayed on a website. There was nothing online in the form of a blog or even a comment from anyone who’d entered the mysterious structure. If they successfully ascended the wall, once on solid footing again, they’d have to rely on instinct and logic rather than advance knowledge of the castle’s layout.

  Gunner knelt down and began to organize his gear. He glanced up at Cam, who was still in awe at the towering structure. “Are you ready? It’s been a while since we’ve used these things.”

  She rubbed the side of the chiseled granite walls. “Yeah. The surface is a little rougher than I’d hoped for. Do you think the peevac will grip it?”

  “We’re about to find out,” replied Gunner.

  Cam joined Gunner in preparing their PVACs, an acronym for personal vacuum-assisted climber. First developed by students at Utah State two decades ago, the original device consisted of a vacuum motor that powered two suction paddles. It was capable of sticking to any su
rface, including glass, stucco, and brick.

  After being purchased by the Air Force, thanks to several technological advances, the PVAC was redesigned to make it more lightweight and much quieter. The early models sounded like an actual vacuum cleaner when in operation, certainly not what a covert operative needed when scaling a wall. Also, the hoses attached to the paddle grips were gangly. Using technology by Dyson and Miele, manufacturers of vacuum cleaners, the Air Force redesigned the PVAC to run whisper-quiet with only the faint sound of a fan motor running, and the hoses were reduced to the size of an air-compressor hose.

  The suction paddle grips on the original model were also modified over time. Instead of a large round disc that popped loudly as it was engaged or disengaged, the newly designed PVAC had gloves and kneepads for the user that resembled the tentacles of an octopus. These new additions enabled the climber to ascend a wall vertically, sideways, and even descend face-first as if he were crawling on a floor.

  Gunner and Cam checked one another’s gear to confirm everything was firmly affixed. They decided to scale together, except a dozen feet apart to avoid being a single target if seen from above. If necessary, the gloves provided sufficient dexterity to operate a pistol, but accuracy would suffer.

  “Comms check,” said Gunner into the small microphone affixed to the black balaclava covering his head and face. His earpiece was firmly in place with the additional support of the tight headgear.

  “Five by five,” responded Bear. “Sitrep?”

  “In position,” replied Gunner as he looked up the castle wall again. “Hold your position for thirty minutes.”

  “That’s ambitious,” Cam commented.

  “Nah, we’ve got this,” Gunner reassured her.

  If all went well, the climb to the exterior corridor of the castle would take under twenty minutes. The additional ten minutes would provide the operatives time to eliminate any threats and get their bearings.