by J E Higgins
Not wanting to risk needless exposure, Tarkov had ordered that the weapons would not be used for practice until the last few days. The team would do their dry runs imitating using weapons until the routine and operating procedures down solid. Two days ago they took the fishing trawler far out to sea to familiarize themselves with the weapons and conducted target practice.
The small machine pistol was in good condition. By all accounts, it looked like it hadn’t seen much action. When she shot it from the boat, she found it fired smoothly. Though she lamented that it was more an automatic pistol than submachine-gun. For such a mission she would have preferred a more rapid firing weapon like the Israeli Uzi or an HK-MP5k. However, in her world, one worked with what one had, not with what one wanted.
Sacchini had dismissed the two Palestinians he had been going over the weapons with. Thankfully a good number of them spoke decent English. The reputation of Force-17 had proven quite accurate in rehearsals ─ the men executed the operation swiftly and with precision once the routine had been established. The two men nodded politely to the young woman as they made their exit, leaving her alone with the Italian.
“You feeling good about this?” Sacchini asked as he regarded the pallets of weapons sitting at his feet.
“Whether I am or not, we’re doing it,” Sauwa responded in a defeated tone. She stood by silently watching her friend. His behavior signified someone who was looking to talk.
“Well, as I see it, you’ll have the dangerous part,” he continued. “You’ll be the one handling God knows what with little help from anyone.”
“This whole project is dangerous,” she said, “and, we’re all handling a piece of it.”
Sacchini cracked a smile and began quietly chuckling. “Maybe I’m just an old hand at my part, and so it doesn’t feel as dangerous. Though I have to wonder about De’vor. Ever since he was tagged to lead the assault on the pier and command the bulk of the forces, he’s been behaving as if he were the one in command of everything.”
“Devor has a high opinion of himself, both as a soldier and as a self-righteous asshole,” Sauwa stated.
“Yes, he does,” the Italian replied still smiling.
“But, Tarkov is a good leader and keeps everyone in line,” Sauwa continued.
Sacchini observed her, his face still watching the pleasant but slightly defeated look. Sauwa didn’t have to ask what was wrong, she already knew. The mission was getting close, and everyone was starting to feel it. Attitudes became more somber as the mercenaries began to withdraw into their own deep thoughts and mental preparation. Even Gorzo had, in the last few days, become less cocky as reality began to set in.
She handed the weapon back to Sacchini, who placed it with the rest of the arsenal. She looked at the greater stock of weaponry that lined the room. In addition to the guns, there were several plastic containers lining the wall. She walked over to them. The containers were labeled indicating the substance had passed through East Europe. The packaging was new, signifying the substance had been recently manufactured and must have been diverted from its intended destination to their makeshift arms room.
The containers held quantities of Semtex, military-grade plastic explosive, developed and used largely by the now-defunct Czechoslovakian military. It was one of the most easily obtainable and commonly used explosives favored by terrorist groups. She had already inspected the substance and determined they were not counterfeit and in good condition. She had taken to doing daily inspections to ensure the inventory was not getting short or had been tampered with. After finding nothing wrong here, she went to another couple of boxes containing the detonation cords and blasting caps. She would be the primary user of these and had a vested interest in their condition.
Satisfied all was well, Sauwa returned to where Sacchini was sitting. She sensed he was in the mood to talk if for no other reason than to help relax. He was finishing up his own inspection and cleaning his weapon. “Strange,” he began, as she walked up on him. “All this firepower for a mission that will probably last no more than a few minutes. I never seem to get over that concept.”
She said nothing as she slowly joined him. He looked her up and down as if he were inspecting her, and she was no different than the rest of the equipment. “I don’t care what you say,” he began again. “You have the most dangerous part of this mission, and yet you’re calmer about this than all the rest of us. It’s so natural to you.”
“It’s not natural,” she replied. “I just show my emotions differently than the rest of you.” She dropped into a sitting position taking a place at the edge of one of the pallets staring up at him. To anyone walking in at that moment, it would have looked like a father delivering parental advice to his daughter.
“Perhaps,” he said kindly. “Or, just maybe it’s because you’re so serious all the time that it’s hard to tell.”
“Maybe it is,” she cracked a smile for the first time since they began speaking. She liked Sacchini. He wasn’t critical and condescending like De’vor. Nor was he trying to prove his machismo by constantly trying to bed her, like Gorzo. He had been kind to her, and she appreciated it. In the time they had worked together, he had proven himself quite capable and intelligent as an operator, something she could respect.
The conversation ended with both of them leaving the supply room and heading back to the main area of the warehouse. There they found everyone decompressing after a long day of practice and planning. Tarkov and Carzona were in the planning area pouring over the maps and charts as if it were the first time they had seen them. De’vor and some of the men, who would comprise his team, were exercising. With his shirt pulled off, the Frenchman was pushing the weights hard challenging those around him. In the corner, Gorzo spoke to some of the recent arrivals. A sly smile was plastered across his face.
“He’s bragging about some of his sexual conquests,” Sacchini explained.
“I imagine so,” Sauwa replied with a shrug of indifference. “Sex has always been a topic of discussion that men bond over.”
“You’re right,” Sacchini agreed. “Men, both young and old, judge each other by their virility. Though, I should inform you that in his conversations, the subject of you has come up.”
“I assumed that as well,” she replied indifferently. She had worked around professional soldiers for a long time. She had learned early on that in such a world a woman could not go unclaimed. “Let me guess, Gorzo is telling everyone I fell to his charms and bedded him the first or second night we met?”
Sacchini nodded, “Something like that.”
“Well, I guess I should probably set everyone straight about Mr. Gorzo, and ensure I’m not fending off several more potential suitors.” She looked back at Sacchini. “Care to help?”
Sacchini shot her a bemused look. It took him a few seconds to respond, “Sure.”
With that Sauwa turned to face the older man. She looked at him with mischief in her eyes. Reaching up she placed her hand behind his head and pulled him down to her for a deep, passionate kiss as her hands moved to cup his cheeks. When she finally released him, he looked unsure of how to react. She turned to find the little episode had quickly caught everyone’s attention, including Gorzo’s ─ he looked slightly deflated.
“Thank you,” she replied to Sacchini, who had gathered himself enough to play his part. He let his hand rise up to touch her shoulder and then, just as easily, slide down over her arm ending in holding her hand. He let her go to allow her to go back to work after sending such a clear message to all.
Sauwa walked over to join Tarkov and Carzona. Their heads were still buried in the documents in front of them.
“That was quite a display,” Tarkov commented, not bothering to lift his head to acknowledge her.
“It clears up a lot of potential problems,” she stated as she met his eyes.
“Actually, it does,” Tarkov responded. “All the young Cossacks we have here have been paying a lot of attention to the one young la
dy on the team. The testosterone of so many young studs together was starting to run high. Showing all that you belong to someone has probably curtailed some potential conflicts and distractions.”
“Good, then I shouldn’t hear any more about it,” Sauwa stated. “And, we can now focus on business.”
“Yes, we can,” Carzona interjected stoically.
“Are you comfortable with your part?” Tarkov asked.
“Whether I am or not, it’s the plan we’re going with,” Sauwa replied as she gazed at the documents that occupied Tarkov’s attention.
The plan relied on three components. Because Gorzo’s and De’vor’s backgrounds were largely based on ground operations, it was decided they should lead the assault on the piers. De’vor and his team of six Palestinians would use the fishing trawler. Gorzo, using an inflated rubber craft, would launch just outside of the port and enter through the water. Going through the mouth of the port, his team would bypass any surveillance and security measures. The darkness over the water would provide ample concealment as they made their way to their objective. The noise of cargo being moved and the sound of the ship’s engines would mask the sound of their own motor as they closed the distance. Nearer to the target, they will kill their craft’s motor and wait in the water until the ships start to move. Then using the interval, they will silently paddle in under darkness and pull up slightly away from the target before deploying into action.
Tarkov and Sacchini, former naval commandos, would follow in a similar raft, approaching the starboard side of the target ship, at the same time De’vor and his team were ready to initiate their assault. There, using two limpet mines, they would attach them to the ship’s hull and depart. The mines would detonate, blasting two massive holes in the side of the ship that would send it to the bottom of the ocean while creating the perfect distraction for the assault team to go into action. In the event the mines had problems, or some other issue emerged that made the mines impractical, Tarkov and his team, Sacchini and two of the Palestinians, would go to the alternative plan. They would board the ship, using ropes to scale onto the main deck and commence a full attack, killing everyone they came in contact with, then destroying the ship and cargo manually using some of the Semtex. The original plan had called for his team to remain on the trawler, follow the target ship out to sea, and use an inflatable rubber craft to close the distance and commence the sabotage operation.
This plan had been altered after Tarkov found that none of the rubber craft possessed the engine speed capable of catching up to the Chin Wu once it was out to sea. Hitting it when it was in port became the only viable option. They had also understood that for De’vor and his team to effectively get on shore to initiate the attack, it would be necessary to produce some distraction that would seize the attention of the security forces on the ground. It would be a risky proposition, but given the low lighting of the port and the target ship, they figured they had a good chance to pull it off.
Sauwa, being the most skilled covert operative, would manage the assassination of Kalopolis. Once De’vor initiated the assault, the assumption was the arms broker would attempt to escape rather than stay and fight. The port road would take him out the gate. Once outside, the adjoining road presented two directions, one leading to the city and the other toward a suburb. Either route, once chosen, was a straight shot to its destination with no turns or means of getting off. With a team of three more Palestinians, Sauwa would set up an ambush point at both ends of the road. Either direction Kalopolis took, he would run into one.
Cars that would have been stolen for this mission would be armed with Semtex and a remote detonator. When the target passed either car, they would detonate the explosive. Any survivors or remaining vehicles would be met by one of the hit teams who would follow up the blast with gunfire as they shot the stunned survivors. Assuming that Kalopolis would choose the route leading directly to the city, Sauwa would be staged there with one of the Palestinians, the other two would be staged at the point leading to the suburbs. She didn’t like the plan of having their forces so spread out, but it was the only logical way. The ambush was set up outside the port to avoid being seen by the security cameras or running up against any potential security patrols that might have been placed at the gate entrance.
Tarkov watched Sauwa as she studied the travel route she would be using. He was fully aware her role was more dangerous than anyones. She would be spread thin having to operate the two-man teams to cover both bases. He was also aware that while everyone else would have the benefits of larger more powerful weapons, her people would be using virtual handguns.
That she seemed to handle this with an eerie calm seemed even more unreal.
27
Kennson Rhys rubbed his brow as he listened to Managua explain the circumstances of how the young attorney, Esmeralda Morayo, had been killed in such a public and brutal display. He tried to mask his utter annoyance with the sheer clumsiness of the men sent to retrieve information from her. These specialists, a group of Hungarians operating in Germany, were supposed to have been part of an elite infiltration unit.
Managua reported that the Hungarians had broken into her home at an inopportune time and attempted to kidnap her. Their ambush failed when she ran. The response by these so-called professionals was to shoot her several times in front of her apartment with numerous witnesses watching. This was done while chasing her down several flights of stairs allowing any number of potential witnesses to view this very public display including the collateral death of a man who had the misfortune of being in the stairwell when the young lady and her pursuers ran by. It was bad enough that the man was brutally stabbed in an upscale apartment complex, but he turned out to be a well-respected veteran reporter for the noted German news publication, Der Spiegel. Morayo’s death was sure to hit the headlines.
Rhys’ fingers pushed harder and harder against his brow as he heard the details. If this had been Manilla or another city in the Philippines, or in Southeast Asia, it wouldn’t have even been an issue. But this very public murder happened in Germany, and it happened in the very sophisticated city of Berlin where such violent acts were most uncommon and sure to arouse the interest of the police who would treat the killing of a noted corporate lawyer as a priority. This problem was on top of the fact that the young woman had been their only lead to finding out who they were pitted against.
The only saving grace Rhys could see arising from this event would be if it ended with some viable intelligence they could use. And, that nothing from this monumental cock-up traced back to them and their operation in Cyprus.
“As I was saying,” Managua pressed on, “I am new to this area and am working with the only connections I have.” The lawyer made this statement and repeated it at various intervals during his briefing. “These guys were supposed to be professionals. I was told they were special operators for their military during the cold war. I mean I…”
“It doesn’t change anything,” Rhys interrupted, cutting the lawyer off. “What is important right now is the exposure we have. Europe is a commonwealth that acts more like a single country these days. I don’t want the police in Germany tracing this back to us.”
“I can assure you that won’t be the case,” Managua said. “The person I went through and all the coordination was done entirely in Slovakia. Nothing was done through me ─ it was done through a colleague of mine who specializes in the same field. He will return home as soon as he has the documents that were obtained from the lawyer’s apartment. The people he hired are from Hungary. So, nothing done connects us to Cyprus.”
Rhys tapped his finger irritably against the armrest. It was clear he was not satisfied with the explanation he was being given. Still, he realized there was nothing to be done about any of it. Certainly, nothing would be rectified by this conversation. He decided to move to his next concern. “How long until we receive the documents they were able to obtain?”
Managua waved his finger at the New Zealand
er. “That is the good news. My colleague is meeting with them as we speak. Once he has the documents, he will send them straight here via his assistant who will also have no connection to any of this. He won’t even be Filipino. So, we don’t have to worry about any trails leading back here. We should have our documents by tomorrow night at the earliest.”
“And, we can expect that none of the documents will have been gone through by your people?” Khadga Yadav suddenly spoke up after standing quietly in the corner.
The lawyer haphazardly bobbed.
“Then, we’ll have to go through all those documents ourselves to find any viable intelligence,” the Nepali said acidly.
“It was too risky to have my people analyze them given the time constraints and the fact that they were too close to the crime scene to stay around after they obtained the documents,” Managua feebly explained. “As your commander has made all too clear, these documents were taken in the act of committing a serious and very public crime. None of our people could afford to stay around.”
Yadav shot the lawyer a disgusted look. Rhys had seen that look on his cohort only a few times, but it signaled that his friend was about to do something harmful. In an effort to defuse the situation, Rhys quickly interjected. “Perhaps it’s best this way.” He watched the anger in the Nepali’s eyes shift in his direction.
The New Zealander continued, “Your people don’t really know what we’re dealing with or what to look for. It might be best if the unit on the ground looks through the documents.”
Yadav’s eyes darted back to the lawyer. While they still possessed a look of cold steel, they had lightened a little from what they had been. Rhys took it as a sign he had successfully calmed Yadav. At least Managua would be leaving the room with all his body parts, something that could not be said for many who angered the former Gurka to such a degree.
Managua seized the opportunity to end the meeting and take his leave. He walked out the door briskly, leaving the two mercenaries discussing the matter further. “What stupidity,” Yadav growled the second he saw the door of the beach house slam shut.