Waterkill (Dave Henson Series)

by Mark Donovan

  Again, Jones glanced down at his watch. Three minutes had elapsed since they left the Escalade. Jones touched his throat mic. “We’re ready at the east-end.”

  “Copy, west-end is ready.”

  “Copy, back is ready.”

  “Copy, we are in position on the roof,” said Gomez.

  “This is only going to burn and fizz,” said Jones as he looked over at Dave.

  Dave nodded in understanding as Jones touched his throat mic again and said, “Go”, while simultaneously triggering the fuse imbedded in the clay material.

  A second later Dave saw the door handle and the surrounding door material turn a burning red as the clay material burned through the metal and wood.

  ***

  Dana lifted her head from the pillow as she thought she heard movement in the hallway outside her bedroom. She had not slept at all since being brought back to her room after having dinner with Aref Zarin. Maybe she was just imagining things, as she had been hoping all night that Dave would come to her rescue. Again she heard something out in the hallway. It sounded like multiple pairs of feet running lightly down the hallway. She quickly sat up in bed and listened intently in the darkness, urging to hear more sounds, trying to visualize what was on the other side of the bedroom door. Suddenly, she heard whispering out in the hallway. A chill shot through her body. The words spoken were not in English. They were in Farsi. Though she could not understand the language she could sense heightened urgency in the voice. Whoever was in the hallway was rapidly issuing hushed commands. Dave. He must be close by she thought, renewed hope racing through her brain.

  But her thought of hope was fleeting as fear instantly gripped her again. Zarin and his men must know Dave has arrived, and they are preparing to spring their trap on him she realized. Zarin had commented to Dana during their dinner that he was expecting Dave. However, she had interpreted his words as a general statement, as more of a supposition than a known fact. Now she realized that Aref had specific intelligence on Dave. Aref had had definitive knowledge of where Dave was and when he would arrive, when he made his statement to her.

  Thoughts began to race through her brain. She needed to do something to signal Dave. To add another variable to Zarin’s plans. The candle in the bathroom flashed into her mind. She had noticed that the servant girl had left matches next to the candle after lighting it. She jumped out of her bed and ran to the bathroom. They were still there, sitting just where she had seen them while taking her bath.

  Dana grabbed the matches and returned to the bedroom. She looked up and saw the LED flash red on the smoke detector mounted on the ceiling. However, the ceiling was three meters high. She thought for a moment. If she could somehow create enough smoke without asphyxiating herself, she could set off the smoke alarm in her bedroom and quite possibly the other alarms throughout the residence. Besides the smoke alarms causing a massive distraction to Zarin and his guards, the smoke that would inevitably seep from underneath the bedroom door could also serve as a beacon for Dave. But how could she create enough smoke to set off the smoke detector she thought. Suddenly an idea flashed into her head.

  Dana ran back into the bathroom, grabbed two bath towels and a wash cloth, tossed them into the tub and turned the water on to soak them. She also grabbed another towel and ran back to the center of the bedroom. She tossed the towel on the floor and knelt down beside it and lit one of the matches. A few seconds later the towel was ablaze, black smoke billowing up from it. While the towel burned Dana ran back into the bathroom and pulled the wet towels and wash cloth from the tub. As she ran out of the bathroom the smoke detector suddenly went off, creating a loud piercing siren sound in the bedroom. She hesitated for a few seconds and watched the towel burn, wanting to make sure that enough smoke was generated in the room to keep the smoke alarm active even when she put out the fire.

  When the room filled with so much smoke that she was beginning to have trouble breathing, she draped the two wet towels over the remains of the burning towel to snuff out the fire. She then put the wet wash cloth up to her face and covered her nose and mouth with it so that she could breathe filtered air. Her eyes were stinging badly, however, so she made her way over to the window to lean her head out of it to escape the smoke and breathe in fresh air. Now all she could do was wait and hope that she had helped Dave enough in some way that improved his chances of finding her.

  ***

  Jones pushed on the door with his right boot slowly, testing the door to see if it would open freely. It did. He immediately slid through the door threshold with Dave on his heels. As they did, alarms instantly went off in the residence. The two of them froze for a second in shock. However, Jones, viewing the dark hallway in front of him with his night vision goggles saw no sign of movement. Jones rushed forward with Dave right behind him. As they made their way to the center of the residence, towards the central stair case, Jones saw Stewart and his wingman pass by ahead of them en route to the basement stairwell. “I’ve got you in sight,” whispered Jones into his throat mic.

  “Roger that, good luck,” responded Stewart as he began his way down the basement stairwell.

  “We’ve made it to the west stair case,” came Ames’s voice over Dave’s ear piece, though Dave struggled to hear him over the din of the alarms screeching in the residence. “We are proceeding up towards the second ….”

  Dave felt the concussion hit him in the chest, followed by an immediate and deafening explosion that briefly lit up the hallway they were standing in. It took him a second to realize that he was down on his back with Jones lying on top of him.

  “Jones, are you okay?” yelled Dave, but not hearing his own voice, partially because he was temporarily deaf due to the explosion and partially because of the sound of rapid gun fire.

  “Yes, I’m fine,” said Jones as he hurriedly picked himself up off of Dave. “Ames, Ames, come in,” he yelled into his throat mic, Jones already comprehending what had happened, that Ames and Davis had run into an ambush.

  “Ames is down, Ames is down,” repeated Davis, the sound of gun fire crackling over their earpieces as Davis spoke rapidly. Dave could clearly hear the anxiety in Davis’s voice as he reported Ames condition.

  “Stay where you are,” responded Jones. “Stewart’s men will attack the ambush’s position from the rear.”

  Jones, hunched low, continued moving toward the center stair case, his M4 carbine extended out in front of him, his finger on the trigger. Dave followed right behind him holding the 9mm in his right hand. The alarms continued to pulsate in deafening volume throughout the residence. “Damn those alarms,” swore Jones over the com. “They are abusing my naturally good nature.”

  They had just made it to the staircase when gun fire erupted directly above them. The bullets were aimed high in their direction, but both Jones and Dave were able to duck behind a nearby wall and avoid taking any hits. Out of his peripheral vision Dave saw something small fly by his left eye. It was moving in the direction of the staircase, however, he lost sight of it in the darkness. Suddenly Dave and Jones heard gun fire erupt from below them.

  “Shit,” said Jones, “Stewart is now taking heat. They must have known we were coming.” Dave had already been thinking the same.

  There was a brief lull in the firing of enemy weapons from the top of the staircase. Jones took advantage of the moment to expose himself. As he did, he said, “Clear. Clear. Clear.” into his throat mic just before firing a buck shot round from the grenade launcher on his M4 Carbine. He had aimed the round directly at the top of the staircase, where the enemy weapon fire had been originating from just seconds before.

  The grenade exploded causing instant death to anyone standing within five meters of it. After the initial shock from the exploding grenade Dave heard moaning from the top of the staircase.

  “Let’s move,” said Jones as he ran to the central staircase firing his weapon simultaneously. Dave followed Jones in tight pursuit. They took the staircase two treads at a time,
in the direction of the moans.

  Four bodies, nearly unrecognizable to Dave, were lying at the top of the staircase landing. Two of them were dead and completely missing faces due to the amount of buckshot that had torn through them. Another dead body was lying flat on its back, the man’s entire body pockmarked with bloody holes. The last man, however, was still alive. He had apparently been shielded from much of the buck shot absorbed by the other men. His hands though were bloody, and one of his arms looked like it had been snapped in half. The man, dazed by the concussion of the grenade, looked at the both of them. He was moaning and holding outwards his one good arm in a half attempt to shield his face with his bloodied hand. Without hesitation Jones fired two rounds from his M4 into the man’s head. The man’s head flinched back and then fell dead sideways. Jones then fired two additional rounds into the heads of each of the other three bodies.

  “Let’s move,” he said as he stepped over the bodies. Dave followed right behind him with his 9mm pistol still extended.

  With their cover blown, Jones and Dave moved quickly down the long hallway, stopping at each door they came across along the way. With every closed door Jones tested it to see if it was locked, which none were, before abruptly pushing it open and entering the space behind it. In each case, Jones went in high and left with Dave following low and right, their weapons extended out in front of them and fingers on triggers. All of the rooms turned out to be empty bedrooms, with no signs of Dana or Zarin.

  As they continued to work their way down the hallway, they suddenly heard another loud explosion up ahead of them and around a bend in the hallway. The sound of intense weapon fire followed for another few seconds before there was only the sound of the alarms still ringing in their ears.

  “West end is neutralized,” came Gomez’s voice over their ear pieces.

  “What about Ames and Davis?” asked Jones.

  “Ames is dead, but Davis is with us,” responded Cook. “We are headed up the west stairwell towards the second floor.”

  “Copied,” said Jones. “We’re on the second and making our way in your direction. So far no sign of Zarin or Cogswell.”

  As Dave and Jones approached the next door on their left Dave smelled an odd odor. It wasn’t the familiar nitroglycerin smell associated with their rifle fire, but instead an odor that smelt of burning textile, a fabric of some sort. Dave spoke, “I think the house is on fire. Can you smell it?”

  “Yes. I think something is on fire, but I think it is coming from behind this door,” said Jones, the pungent smell increasing in intensity as they came up to the closed door.

  “You’re right,” said Dave as the two sat hunched low beside the door.

  Jones reached up with his left hand and gently tested the doorknob. It turned freely. “Alright, are you ready?” said Jones.

  “Let’s do it,” responded Dave.

  Jones stood up, pushed the door open and slipped into the room in one continuous movement. Again, he went in high and left and Dave followed low and right. As with the others, the room and the connecting bathroom were empty. However, the room was filled with smoke. Both men scanned the room quickly looking for the source of the smoke. No fire was present.

  Jones saw something odd lying on the floor in the center of the room. He walked over to it cautiously. It was a cluster of bunched up towels. He kicked them to one side. As he did he noticed that they were sopping wet. While Jones stared down at them and contemplated why they were wet, Dave was looking over at a bed. It was unmade.

  “Jones, take a look at this,” said Dave.

  Jones looked up from the floor and in the direction of the bed.

  “Someone was lying in this bed not long ago,” said Dave.

  Jones immediately looked around the room again to see if they missed someone or something in the room. Dave knelt down beside the bed and checked underneath it with the 9mm in his hand. The room was empty, but Dave could sense that Dana had been there recently.

  “Let’s keep moving,” said Jones.

  Jones walked out of the room, however, Dave hesitated a moment as he scanned the room one last time looking for any sign of Dana’s presence. There was nothing. Fear suddenly gripped him as he realized Zarin had probably pulled her from the room just minutes before they got to it. Again, something small flew by his head, but it was gone before he had the chance to identify what it was.

  A thunderous boom occurred from below as Dave stepped back into the hallway. The rumble of the building was so intense that he was almost knocked off his feet again. Instantly he dropped down into a crouched position and looked for Jones. He was a meter ahead of him, also crouched down, and looking back at Dave. “Stewart,” was all that Jones said before turning his head and moving forward again.

  As they continued their way down the long dark hallway sporadic rifle fire occurred below. From the muffled sounds it was coming from the basement. At least Stewart was still alive thought Dave, but he wondered for how much longer. The gun fire was intense at times.

  Gomez, Davis, and Cook came around the corner into Jones and Dave’s field of view. They had finally made their way up the west stairwell and through the hostiles, all of which were now dead.

  “Your team still healthy?” asked Jones.

  “Yes, with the exception of Ames,” replied Gomez tersely.

  Jones nodded his head once in acknowledgement. “Okay, Zarin’s suite is just up ahead of us,” said Jones as he pointed to a set of closed double doors ten meters ahead of them.

  Between them and the master suite double doors, the hallway expanded outwards into a large open area just beyond the west-end staircase. A railing sat to the right, looking down into an open area to the first floor below.

  “We should fan out,” said Cook. “Why don’t Gomez and I approach the suite directly, while you and Dave go off to the right, near the railing? Have Davis hang back in a defensive position, or for back up if one of us goes down.”

  “Roger that,” said Jones, “but let’s move before that bastard either escapes or kills himself and Cogswell.”

  Gomez and Cook half bent over scurried forward. When they were within a few meters of the master suite doors, Jones and Dave advanced forward and shifted to the right, out of the line of any potential fire that could emanate from the master suite. Similarly, Davis shifted his body down and to the left of where he had been standing so that he too was out of the direct line of fire.

  Dave took a quick glance back towards Davis. As he did, he saw a massive silhouette of a man advancing up behind him. The man must have been hiding in one of the bedrooms they had already inspected he guessed. Dave also could see that the man held a large knife in his right hand. Davis must not be able to hear his approach over the blare of the alarms thought Dave. Dave immediately swung his right arm around in the direction of Davis, holding the 9mm pistol firmly in his hand, and fired three quick and successive rounds into the chest of the silhouette. Davis caught Dave’s sudden movement out of the corner of his eye just as the man behind him began to lunge towards him. However, instead of the sharp point of a knife stabbing into his back, Davis felt the heavy dead weight of a man fall on top of him. Davis quickly extracted himself out from underneath the man’s body and discharged two rounds from his M4 into the man’s head. He then gave a quick wave of thanks to Dave before dropping back into position.

  Dave looked back in the direction of the master bedroom suite after confirming Davis was safe. Gomez was pulling a grenade from his belt. He immediately yanked the pin from it and rolled it towards the heavy wooden doors. As he did, Dave, Jones, and Davis all dropped to the floor to take cover, while Gomez and Cook simultaneously slid into a recessed alcove in the hallway to shield themselves from the blast. The two men turned their heads and faces away from the direction of the master suite doors just as there was a bright flash followed by an explosion. After a couple of seconds all of the team members looked back in the direction of the master suite. Both doors had been blown inwards
and off their hinges, and were lying splintered on the floor of the room.

  Gomez and Cook did not wait for the dust to settle. Both entered the room fast, guns extended. It turned out the space was a vestibule that twisted sharply to the left and led to the main area of the bedroom suite. As they entered the vestibule they immediately took fire on their left. Both men were hit multiple times and immediately went down before the sound of weapon fire ceased.

  Davis, Jones and Dave saw their team members go down and quickly moved towards the master suite entrance to attempt to recover them. As they neared the entrance they could see that Gomez and Cook were still alive, but in tough shape.

  “Give me cover Davis,” yelled Jones as he crawled into the entrance way and reached for the back of Gomez’s flak jacket.

  Standing, Davis leaned his body into the vestibule area and started firing wildly with his M4, in the direction of where the attack had come from. As he did, Jones grabbed onto Gomez’s flak jacket and yanked him out of the vestibule area.

  The two repeated the process for Cook while Dave bent down over Gomez to assess his injuries and vital signs. Gomez had been hit in the legs, arm, and chest, but fortunately the bullets had missed his head and the flak jacket had absorbed the bullets to his chest.

  “You’re going to make it,” said Dave to Gomez.

  Dave looked over at Cook who Jones had just dragged back from the bedroom doorway. Cook had been hit in the face and throat, amongst several other places, and had already bled out. He was dead.

  After pulling Cook back out of the doorway, Jones returned to Davis’s side. For a brief moment all weapons had ceased firing, but the smoke alarms continued to blare.

  “What’s our situation?” asked Jones.

  “I count three hostiles returning fire,” said Davis. “They appear to be wild shots.”

  “I don’t want to kill or injure Cogswell,” said Jones. “I’m going to toss a stun grenade into the far end of the vestibule area when we draw those bastards out again. I want you to fire another several rounds into the vestibule area and then pull back. After your fourth round I will roll the grenade in. Hopefully if I time this right, those sons of bitches will just about step on it when they go to return your fire. On my mark. Three, two, one, fire.”