by J E Higgins
He looked back at the young men. Both looked at him with eagerness and impatience that demanded something be done. To Rhys’ surprise and luck, all the Greek mercenaries had opted to stay on and continue the mission. He suspected that while they were interested in getting paid the full sum of their promised wages, their need to get even with the assailants who attacked them and killed their comrades burned deeply in their minds.
“No,” Rhys went on. “If we go after these guys we need to get them when they’re out in the open.” His answer was vague but seemed to satisfy the anxious young men.
Earlier that day, he had received a package from a bike courier from one of the cheap shops that asked few questions and required little paperwork. Just the kind that easily forgot who they were taking from and who they were delivering to. The package contained a new disposable phone with a single number already programmed into it. When he called it, he was met with a voice familiar to him that identified himself as ‘Mr. Garcia’. To which, Rhys responded with the name ‘Mr. Blue’, the code names that the two parties knew to identify each other by.
Mr. Garcia was brief and to the point. He explained that the loss of Mr. Managua now placed him in charge as their man on the ground. He also explained what the decision was from ‘The System’ leadership and his instructions in regard to what was to be done with these interlopers who had disrupted their operation. Having lost their previous means of obtaining weapons, Rhys was also given a number for a new weapons supplier as well as an account number from which to draw money.
In all honesty, the New Zealander did not like the idea of an operation to retaliate. Cyprus was not the jungles of the Philippines. In the wake of everything that had happened, and the police investigating the situation at the port, he felt now was not the time nor the place for brash actions. With the information they had recovered, his recommendation had been to alert the police to the location of their enemies’ hideout and let the authorities do the rest. Mr. Garcia explained that the leadership saw a need for a response ─ they wanted a strong message sent.
Reluctantly, Rhys did as instructed and began his pursuit of the mysterious terrorists. In truth, his men were eager to avenge their fallen comrades. They were also highly trained professionals who wanted to strike at the enemy for the humiliation of letting them get the drop on them. It was doubtful they would have liked being told the mission was over or, worse, letting the police adjudicate on their behalf. When he told his men that the mission was now to find the enemy and deliver a powerful response, the mood amongst his ex-Legionnaires brightened.
Only Yadav was dismayed at the chosen course of action. He, like Rhys, had been inclined to cut their losses in the wake of all the attention the police were focusing on the event at the port, and the television and radio news reporting was extensive. The need for retribution for the loss of his good friend, Mehendra, did not overshadow his sense as a soldier. Men died in their line of work, and one can’t look back when they must press on. For him, revenge was often costly and fruitless. Though the Nepali wanted to leave, his conditioned sense of traditional loyalty made it impossible.
Focusing his attention between the warehouse and the surrounding landscape, the New Zealander still managed to listen to everything his men briefed him on explaining all the relevant points from their recce. The conclusion was that the unknown defenses they might run into inside the fortress-like warehouse made any attempt at an assault futile. And, the wide open spaces surrounding it made trying to mount any long-term ambush impractical. The veteran soldier decided that fighting on such terrain was simply out of the question.
Rhys was now pinning his hopes on Yadav. He had dispatched the ex-Gurka, along with the rest of the men, to observe the other warehouse that was of interest. They were to conduct a recce of the area and see what they could find. He hoped this recce would yield better results than the first warehouse.
Yadav quietly watched from his strategically positioned vantage point. He had found a good observation post on the second floor of a nearby building. The darkness of the occupied room and the office furniture made it easy for him to remain concealed. He had spent a few hours observing the warehouse across the way and the activity around it. For the most part, the warehouse looked empty. It was only the occasional exiting from the side door by a few individuals at a time that alerted anyone that the structure was occupied.
Every so often a couple of people emerged from the drab, grey structure and walked around. Not wanting make a hasty judgment, the Nepali studied the individuals. Their clothes were largely jeans and T-shirts, not the coveralls common to workmen in such facilities. The men were all incredibly fit and athletic looking. The absence of the larger garage doors ever being opened or even the sight of equipment such as forklifts being operated stirred his interests.
He also began to notice their movements. Though appearing to be random, he began to observe a pattern. Two men would emerge from the warehouse at irregular times. They would walk about in a nonchalant manner as if they were just a couple of guys getting some air. However, they would make a complete lap around the entire the parking lot each time. While they were walking, they would make a point of stopping at every point that coincided with a good entry leading to their perimeter. It looked like it was similar to how an enemy might approach if they were intending an assault. These stops were repeated identically by every pair that came out and completed a similar rotation around the structure. He began to wonder if he was looking at a security patrol checking the area.
He also noticed that each time the men carried backpacks over their shoulders. That seemed odd to him until he realized the bags were always thrown over a single shoulder which made it easy to remove quickly for easy access. The bags were also always unzipped no less than halfway. It would be a perfect way to hide weapons from view but access them quickly in the event of trouble.
After watching this relay, Yadav became convinced he had found the ones responsible for attacking the port. He dispatched one of the Greeks back to the other warehouse to alert Rhys and link up with his team. He joined the rest of his men to conduct a more thorough recce of the area and find places they could use to stage an attack. They waited for the current security detail to retreat inside.
His attention was caught by the surprising sight of a young woman coming out the door with a coffee skinned man. Like the others he’d seen, she and the man also walked about the area in a casual manner talking to each other, but they also had their backpacks slung over a single shoulder. It bewildered him to think this young lady was performing guard duty as if she were a soldier. Not wanting to risk attracting their attention, he waited until the duo completed their round and retreated into the warehouse. Then he made his move.
Gathering his team, they made their way through the dark hallway and down the concrete stairs that echoed with every clack of their footsteps. They emerged from the back door on the opposite side of the building that allowed them to avoid their enemies. They walked a block and a half and piled inside a green van they used for transportation. One of the Greeks manned the driver’s side and had the engine humming the moment the men opened the doors.
The van was soon coasting down the street. Yadav hated not leaving someone on site to keep watch, but he knew it might be dangerous. None of them were armed and if these were the people who so skillfully attacked the port, then staying too long would certainly lead to discovery. They would come back with a fully armed force.
33
Carzona and Tarkov quietly observed the mercenaries packing the remaining explosives and moving the containers toward the pier where the fishing trawler had waited. Large canvass covers were draped over the boxes of Semtex, hand grenades, and armaments to avoid attracting attention. For good measure, some pieces of fish netting were allowed to dangle from underneath the canvas to give the impression they were simply moving fishing equipment and boat parts.
They had also chosen to move the weapons at a time set to coincide wit
h the fishing schedule to provide even more cover. Luckily, fishing was the best at sunrise which meant the boats were all casting off at the wee hours of early morning. Not only did this schedule provide darkness for the mercenaries, it also gave them a legitimate reason for being out that early. Once far out in the waters, they would dump the munitions over the side just before they lowered their netting and all traces of weaponry would be lost.
There had been heated debate over whether or not to keep their rifles and some ammunition handy in case they were met by a hostile force. Tarkov feared being caught defenseless by a possible enemy attack. Carzona feared that with the police investigation of the port a top priority, any evidence that linked back to them was too dangerous. Holding onto illegal weapons would be the worst possible thing they could do. He didn’t think it likely that the enemy would risk a direct assault and needlessly expose themselves to the danger of alerting the police. Besides, arrangements had been made for them to leave the country the following night. In such a short timeframe, he and Tarkov figured no one would have time to find them let alone plan and organize a decent assault. The subordinates were dismayed that all the weapons were to be dumped.
Moving through the gate, the mercenaries walked the short distance down to the pier to the waiting trawler. It was 0400 hours and the sky was only just beginning to show the slightest signs of brightness. The mercenaries stumbled along the wet uneven ground they had walked on several times before. In the darkness, carrying the equipment, it felt more awkward than usual.
Tarkov thought it necessary to brief them on the situation regarding Rita’s death and the possibility that they might have been compromised. This left many in the ranks concerned of possible retaliation. For assurance, many of the mercenaries opted to wear their back packs containing their rifles and a few spare magazines. It was an argument neither Carzona nor Tarkov were willing to have and decided that it was a moot point for now.
Sauwa had been one of the mercenaries who had opted to hold on to her weapon. It had not been an easy choice. Normally, she would have accepted the rational consideration, that the enemy, if they were onto them, would more likely let the police do the work of neutralizing them. However, what bothered her about all of this was that she still knew practically nothing about these nameless figures they were fighting. And, what she did know amounted to how easily they were inclined to employ violence themselves. These were two factors she that did not sit well with her. Her uncle had taught her years ago that in combat rational thinking did not always dominate the decisions made.
She had kept her pack slipped over her shoulder, with the zipper partially undone. In addition, she had sneaked two hand grenades clipped to her belt and covered by the long brown leather jacket she now wore. This was the arsenal she had carried for the last day or so as they went about their cleanup of the warehouse, preparing for their next move to the next one. The team had been divided over the weapons issue with many of the Palestinians wanting to retain their weapons until they had left Cyprus altogether, and a few others, including most of the Europeans agreeing that they should be disposed of quickly.
Nearing the pier, she held the other side of the canvass covered pallet, with one of the Palestinians, a man she had come to know as Ali controlling the other end. She had only spoken to the man a few times and found him to be quite intelligent. He had been a loyal soldier of the elite Palestinian forces fighting Israel. When the Oslo accords were signed creating peace between the Palestine Liberation Organization and the Israeli government, they found no place for him. When his unit Force 17 got absorbed into Arafat’s Presidential Security force, he like many others who had been highly involved in military operations against Israel found themselves out of a job. With no other prospects, he took up working as a free-lance soldier. Sauwa felt a relatable sympathy for the man and the rest of his group.
They descended the last few meters over a small mound before stepping onto the large stones and gravel that comprised the beach. As they did, Sauwa looked ahead, found her attention drawn to two men standing off to the side just a short distance away. Their bodies partially obscured by some of the old wood boats dropped up on land. It wasn’t out of place to see people around coming from some of the active warehouses and buildings a few blocks over. Yet, these two men caught her attention. They were slipping on rubber raincoats which seemed to send an unnerving jolt down her spine. She didn’t want to be paranoid about being concerned over such a trivial matter. However, the longer she watched them, her concern grew as they seemed intent on keeping out of sight behind the boats.
She told herself it was nothing, though she instinctively began to drop one of the straps from her pack off her shoulder. Looking over at Ali, she saw that his attentions were fixed toward the trawler. She wanted to alert him about the two men, yet she didn’t want to think that she was raising concern over sheer paranoia.
It was only when he looked back in her direction that she noticed his eyes did not go toward her, but, instead cast over in the direction of the same two men she had been watching. Ali’s face registered a look of concern as he looked over at them. He then looked back at her as if trying to catch her attention. As one of the straps of his own backpack slid slowly off his shoulder, their eyes met with the same concerned glance.
The rest of the team was down by the trawler and too far away to alert. Then, suddenly the quiet exploded with the loud succession of booming sounds that thundered angrily and with enough power to be felt vibrating in the earth under Sauwa and her compatriot. The explosions were quickly followed by the loud curdling screams of men howling into the darkness. The explosions were immediately followed by a hail of loud crackling sound erupting in a wild frenzy. The sound was all too familiar to both of them as the distinct sound of AK-47 gunfire all coming from the location of the trawler.
They turned just enough to see the boat exuding a big cloud of smoke from the bow, with sparks of gunfire flashing about it. On the ship as on the pier, men were crawling about in agony from their wounds. Around them hails of gunfire erupted from a triangular position that caught them from both flanks and pinned down everyone in a terrible crossfire that was intermingled by the continued explosions of grenades being tossed onto the pier and trawler.
Sauwa and Ali dropped the pallet simultaneously and threw their bags around to their front. Dipping into her bag, she pulled the weapon out by throwing the bag off to the side. Releasing the steel shoulder stock from under the weapon she was free to engage. She caught sight of the two raincoated men as they lunged down taking cover behind the boats and lined up their rifles preparing to fire. Not giving them the chance, she raised her weapon and fired a quick burst in their direction. It went high as she saw the wood splinter in the boat just above them. However, it did enough to disrupt the two men, who in the shock of the surprise dropped their weapons as they threw their hands over their heads to shield them.
Seizing the opportunity, she sighted in as best she could in the limited visibility and began to fire again. This time she felt a force of gunfire next to her and realized that Ali had deployed his weapon and had taken to joining her. Nodding to the Palestinian, Sauwa dropped down to one knee, as she slung her rifle across her back. She reached behind and grabbed one of the grenades. Pulling the pin and releasing the second safety, she hurdled the object in the direction of their assailants. Not waiting, she and Ali ran for the nearest cover and barely made it behind a large pile of wood planks when they heard the rupturing explosion behind them. They rose up from the pile to see a thick cloud of smoke floating from behind the now half-destroyed boats the two coated figures had taken cover. Carefully they started to walk out and saw no movement from the location.
Satisfied after a few minutes that they had killed their threats Sauwa and Ali moved to where the rest of the battle was going on. Most of the mercenaries had been on the pier when the attack was initiated. A handful, however, had been off the pier and had managed to avoid getting caught in the crossfire. She
and Ali moved a short distance down the path to find Gorzo, who was taking cover along with a few of the Palestinians.
They were preparing to move up on one of the enemy’s positions when they were joined by Sauwa and Ali. Taking a few seconds to analyze the situation they figured that one of the enemy positions was situated just over the berm several meters over and just overlooking the pier. The other was just off behind a large woodpile a good fifty meters away on the other side.
Deciding to split into groups, Sauwa and Ali took two of the other Palestinians to look around and take out the team behind the wood pile while Gorzo and the others circled around and hit the team at the berm. Breaking from their position, Ali took the lead as the group slid back up the pathway and past the boats. They walked by to see the mangled corpses of the two men they had fought.
Rhys let loose with another burst of fire, while Yadav, hurdled another grenade in the direction of the embattled fishing trawler and the old wood pier next to it. He had seen the bodies of men drop like flies as explosion after explosion tore away at the vessel and the men occupying it. Likewise, the men on the pier laid motionless or crawled about with injuries unable to escape the death trap they were now in.
This was not the best plan. The New Zealander had only a day to recce the area and figure out a better plan. He knew that this area was the best chance he and his force would have for successfully hitting the enemy. To lose this opportunity would mean losing them. When they saw the fishing trawler arrive so early at the deserted location, he figured it was arranged for his enemy. Seizing the chance, he quickly separated his men into three teams. He and Yadav taking the left flank behind a large woodpile, breaking the Greeks into two other teams ─ one behind a berm on the right and the second behind some old beached boats. The plan was to hit the enemy’s rear blocking their escape and ensuring all were trapped within the triangular gunfire.