Caesar the War Dog 2

by Stephen Dando-Collins

  Charlie, still in the dinghy, unsheathed his stiletto-blade commando knife and stabbed holes in the inflatable’s side. As water rushed in and the boat quickly began to sink under him, Charlie took Ellerman’s hand and stepped up onto the deck of the Pencil. As the dinghy went under, Charlie clambered down the hatch’s internal ladder. Ellerman followed him, pausing on the ladder’s second last rung to reach up and grasp a handle on the round hatch cover. Pulling it shut above him, Ellerman gave its handle several twists, sealing them all in. ‘Hatch secure,’ he called to Commander Renzo.

  ‘All aboard for Deep Cave,’ said Baz, as he settled beside Ben on a bench that ran along the side of the sub’s narrow forward compartment. Caesar, now sitting on the floor, was wedged between Ben’s knees.

  ‘Sky Team is now Sub Team,’ Lucky Mertz remarked.

  ‘Very cramped in here,’ observed Mortenson.

  ‘We prefer to think of it as cosy,’ said Ellerman, as he brushed past them and stepped over Caesar, making his way to the control position.

  The craft’s two motors and batteries were located in the stern – a diesel motor for surface running, an electric motor for underwater. At the control position immediately forward of the engine compartment, Commander Renzo was in the pilot’s seat. He had a computer screen and a periscope in front of him, and some of the boat’s controls.

  Lieutenant Ellerman slipped into the co-pilot’s seat beside him. As the actual driver of the sub, he had a steering wheel, a sonar screen and a variety of gauges in front of him. In the low, green electric light of the sub’s interior the passengers, crowded on benches forward of the control position, could only see the legs of the two pilots, though they could still hear their exchanges.

  ‘All set, Brad?’ said Renzo.

  Ellerman consulted the gauges in front of him. ‘All set, sir.’

  ‘Commence pressurisation.’

  Ellerman flicked a switch. ‘Pressurisation commenced.’

  ‘Now, let’s see if we have any propulsion. Start electric motor.’

  Ellerman pressed a button. The sub shuddered a little, and then there came a reassuring electric hum from the stern. ‘We have “go” for electric motor.’

  A relieved Renzo smiled to himself. ‘Very good. Slow ahead.’

  ‘Slow ahead it is, sir,’ Ellerman acknowledged.

  Ben, Charlie and the other passengers could feel the Pencil vibrate as the propeller began to drive the craft forward.

  ‘Blow forward tanks,’ Renzo commanded. ‘Take her down to fifty metres.’

  ‘Fifty metres. Blowing forward tanks.’ Ellerman pressed a button and pulled a lever.

  With a loud hissing sound, the sub’s forward ballast tanks emptied air out into the lake, and filled with water from outside. The Pencil angled downward at the bow, and within moments, the little craft had slipped beneath the surface of Dragon Lake.

  Through his night-vision field glasses, Duke Hazard studied the landward entrance to Deep Cave.

  ‘Any sign of life?’ Sergeant Tim McHenry asked beside him.

  ‘Two, maybe three, guards behind a rock barrier just inside the entrance,’ replied Hazard.

  ‘There must be more Taliban further inside.’

  ‘Uhuh.’ Hazard checked his watch. ‘We gotta move closer, across the open ground, ready to launch the frontal attack at Zero Hour.

  ‘Roger that.’

  ‘With luck, those guys at the entrance will be asleep and won’t see us coming.’

  Walking in a stealthy crouch and with all their senses on alert, the members of Land Team began a careful night approach to within a hundred metres of the entrance of Deep Cave.

  Once the Pencil had glided down to fifty metres, it levelled out.

  ‘So far so good,’ said Ellerman. ‘Pressurisation is complete. Do we go to a hundred metres now, sir?’

  Commander Renzo didn’t reply.

  Ellerman glanced to his left. Renzo, white in the face with perspiration visible on his brow, sat staring blankly ahead. ‘Sir? A hundred metres?’

  ‘Er, sure, sure,’ Renzo replied, shaking his head as if to clear it. ‘Go to one hundred.’

  The submarine eased down another fifty metres. Once it levelled off, Ellerman eyed his sonar screen. Sonar signals could be heard pinging away from the craft and bouncing off the rocks on the lake walls and floor. ‘Lakeside cave entrance to Deep Cave two hundred metres ahead,’ he announced. ‘No major obstructions on sonar. Looks like we have an unobstructed opening a good twenty metres across. Okay to go in, sir?’

  Again, Renzo didn’t reply.

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ Renzo came back, sounding irritated. ‘But take it easy. Slow ahead.’

  ‘Slow ahead it is.’ Watching the sonar screen intently, Ellerman steered the sub toward the underwater entrance to Deep Cave.

  In the Pencil’s forward compartment, it had become hot and stuffy. Caesar began to grow uncomfortable and restless. Noticing this, Ben kept Caesar occupied by ruffling his neck and whispering soothingly in his ear. For all those aboard, apart from Ellerman, the only one with a sonar view of what lay ahead, it was just a matter of sitting and waiting.

  ‘Entrance dead ahead,’ Ellerman announced. ‘Entering now.’ Sonar beeps increased in intensity as the sub eased into the tunnel through the rock. ‘We’ve cleared the entrance and are navigating the channel that leads to the pool in the cave.’

  ‘Steady, steady,’ said Renzo, sounding anxious.

  ‘Cave wall twenty metres dead ahead,’ Ellerman reported. ‘Permission to reverse engine and stop the old girl, sir?’

  ‘Yes! Yes! Reverse! Reverse!’ Renzo cried, suddenly panicked.

  Ellerman threw the engine lever to into reverse, but nothing happened.

  ‘For God’s sake, man! What’s wrong?’ Renzo demanded.

  ‘Chief Brogan did warn us there was a problem with the reverse thrust,’ Ellerman replied, calmly trying the lever again and again, without success.

  ‘Hold on! We’re going to hit the wall!’ Commander Renzo shrieked, alarming the passengers.

  Moments later, with a resounding thump, the Pencil came to an abrupt halt as the bow rammed against the wall of the channel. The impact almost threw everyone from their seats. The green lights inside the sub flickered then went out. For a few long seconds they sat in darkness.

  Something inside Renzo snapped. ‘We’re going to be stuck down here!’ he cried. Slipping from his seat, he threw himself into the passenger compartment. ‘I can’t take that again! I’ve got to get out! Got to get out!’

  Charlie was the first to slip a torch from his belt and turn it on. In its beam, he saw the wild look on Commander Renzo’s face as he scrambled over the passengers, making for the forward hatch.

  ‘Stop!’ Ellerman yelled from the control position. ‘He’s lost his marbles! Stop him! Before he opens the hatch!’

  All the men onboard knew that, if the hatch was opened, water would pour into the sub and, a hundred metres down, they would all be done for. Those nearest to Renzo, who was already reaching up to the hatch handle, were Baz and Corporal Banner. As one, they jumped up and grabbed hold of him. The commander, with a crazed look in his eyes, tried to wrestle free. Ben was on his feet, too, and from a trouser pocket he took out a plastic cylinder the size of a toothbrush.

  ‘Hold him still!’ Ben said firmly, ripping a plastic cover off the cylinder which contained a one-shot, pre-filled syringe. All members of Sky Team and Land Team carried one of these for personal use in the event they were wounded. In the light of torches now focused on Renzo by Lucky and Sergeant Bruce, Ben jabbed the syringe into Renzo’s arm. Pushing it through the man’s sleeve, he depressed the top, injecting fluid into the commander’s bloodstream. Within moments, Renzo’s struggles slackened and he collapsed limply into Corporal Banner’s arms.

  ‘What’ve you given him?’ Ellerman called.

  ‘A very strong painkiller,’ Ben replied as Banner eased Commander Renzo onto
a bench. ‘He’ll be out for a while.’

  ‘Can you run this thing on your own, sir?’ Charlie called.

  ‘Yes, pretty much. But I could do with a hand up here from one of you guys.’

  ‘That will be me,’ said Charlie, slipping into Renzo’s vacated seat. ‘What do you want me to do, sir?’

  ‘Just sit tight for the time being,’ Ellerman replied, ‘while I get the old girl out of this tight spot.’

  With the press of a button, Ellerman blew compressed air into the sub’s tanks. Like a lift in a lift shaft, the Pencil slowly rose horizontally, the bow scraping lightly on projecting rock as it went. The craft soon emerged into the clear water at the bottom of Deep Cave’s vast pool.

  ‘Turns out the cave entrance is a pretty tight fit,’ said Ellerman. ‘Had we known that before, we mightn’t have embarked on this mission! But we’re in now – like coming up the drainpipe into a sink full of water. We’ll go to periscope depth and take a look around.’

  Again the Pencil ascended, this time stopping just metres below the surface. Following Ellerman’s instructions, Charlie activated the periscope control and the sub’s long, thin periscope rose with an electric hum and gently broke the pool’s surface.

  ‘Use the periscope’s joystick to take a look around,’ Ellerman instructed.

  ‘Roger to that.’

  As Charlie turned the scope, an image appeared on the screen in front of him. Despite the low light, it was possible to discern blurry human figures on a ledge beside the pool.

  ‘Bingo!’ said Charlie. ‘Looks like our hostages. Hard to make them out, though.’

  Ellerman reached over Charlie’s arm and flicked a switch, changing to an infrared lens. ‘Better?’

  ‘Much,’ Charlie said with a nod. The green image on the screen clearly showed eight human figures. ‘Looks like we have two guards – one with an RPG and one with an AK-47 – and six hostages.’ He sounded a little concerned. ‘Should be seven. One hostage is missing.’

  ‘Killed by the Taliban?’ Ellerman pondered aloud.

  ‘I hope not.’ Charlie checked his watch. ‘You’d better get us ashore, sir. It’s thirty minutes to Zero Hour.’

  With just a ripple on the surface of the water, the Pencil silently emerged from the depths, surfacing bow first. The sub levelled out on the darkened, far side of the pool, five hundred metres from the ledge where the hostages were being kept. The forward hatch opened slowly and silently. Casper Mortenson was the first to climb up on deck. Slipping over the side and into the water, he swam to the rocky shore without making a noise. Pulling himself from the water, Mortenson pointed an infrared torch back to the sub, signalling the all clear.

  Ben and Caesar were next in the water. They, too, swam to the rocks. While the others came ashore, Ben set up his equipment. With Caesar standing patiently beside him, he attached the video camera and transceiver to Caesar’s black vest, and booted his laptop. When Charlie joined him, dripping wet like the rest of them, Ben said, in a whisper, ‘Caesar’s good to go, Charlie.’

  Charlie nodded. ‘Okay, send him out.’

  Ben bent low to Caesar’s right ear and whispered, ‘Seek on, Caesar. Seek on!’

  With his tail wagging, Caesar trotted forward. Acting as Sky Team’s pathfinder, he disappeared into the darkness. Before long, Charlie and the others had readied their equipment. Leaving Ellerman in the sub with the unconscious Renzo, and with Ben leading, the team shuffled forward, one man at a time.

  Lying on her stomach a hundred metres from the glowing lamps of the hostage site, Liberty Lee suddenly felt something brush her leg. Spinning around, ready to fight, she was astounded to see a labrador looking at her with its tongue hanging out and tail wagging.

  ‘A dog?’ she said to herself. ‘How did you get here?’ Noticing the high-tech equipment on Caesar’s back, Liberty realised that help must be nearby. She pulled the labrador in close. ‘Hello, four-legged friend,’ she said, smiling, as she patted him.

  Caesar knew instinctively that Liberty was a friend. Recognising her from their meeting on the lawn of Admiralty House back at home, he licked her face in greeting.

  Several hundred metres away, Ben saw flashes of Liberty’s face on his screen, captured by the camera on Caesar’s back. He dropped to one knee. ‘Caesar’s found the missing hostage,’ he whispered to Charlie. ‘It’s Liberty Lee and she seems to be okay.’

  ‘Great. You and I will go forward to her,’ said Charlie. ‘Tell Caesar to keep going.’

  Ben pressed the ‘transmit’ button on his radio. ‘Caesar, advance. Seek on!’ Ben said softly, his voice emerging from the speaker on Caesar’s back. Caesar immediately pulled away from Liberty’s grasp and padded on toward the hostages. When Ben judged that Caesar was as close as was safe, he instructed his EDD to stop. ‘Caesar, halt. Caesar, down.’

  Caesar promptly dropped onto his stomach.

  While the other members of Sky Team lay low, Charlie and Ben wriggled their way to Liberty Lee.

  ‘I knew you wouldn’t abandon us,’ Liberty whispered when they slithered in beside her.

  ‘Are the other hostages okay?’ Charlie asked.

  Liberty nodded. ‘But some are unwell, and the Taliban have placed an explosive vest on the secretary-general.’

  On his laptop screen, Ben was looking at the blurry image of Dr Park transmitted from Caesar’s camera. ‘I can see the vest,’ he whispered. ‘How will it be detonated?’

  ‘I think the one they call Abdul Razah has a detonation switch.’

  ‘Then we have to take him out first,’ said Charlie, before crawling back to brief Lucky, their marksman.

  Ben checked his watch. It was almost Zero Hour.

  Duke Hazard’s eyes were glued to the face of his watch. The moment it ticked to 0510 hours, Zero Hour, he rose from cover and called, hoarsely, ‘Let’s go, people!’

  M-16 at the ready, Hazard ran forward, crouching, headed for the entrance to Deep Cave. From nearby, McHenry, Lyon, Wolf and Harada also ran forward. Meanwhile, from behind a cluster of rocks, Mars Lazar and Brian Cisco opened up with Minimi machineguns, pouring covering fire in the direction of the cave entrance. Behind the same rocks, Ali Moon was left in charge of the two bound Taliban insurgents.

  Answering fire came from the cave entrance. Bullets from AK-47s ripped through the air. A rocket propelled grenade exploded beside Lazar, and he ceased firing. Another RPG lanced through the air and detonated on the ground a few metres in front of Hazard, the blast knocking him off his feet. Lying on his back, he could feel blood flowing down his cheek from a shrapnel cut. Cursing, he pulled himself to his feet and resumed the dash to the cave.

  Sergeant Lyon fired a grenade on the run, spewing it from the launcher beneath the barrel of his M-16. He was the first to reach the rocks at the cave entrance. Seeing the barrel of an RPG poking out, he yanked the weapon from the hands of an astonished Taliban fighter. Sergeant McHenry appeared beside him and vaulted over the rocky barrier to find two Taliban fighters on the ground, wounded, while a third insurgent was trying to reload an AK-47. Using the butt of his carbine, McHenry collected the man on the jaw. The insurgent went down. Lyon, and then Hazard, Wolf and Harada, now scaled the rocks to join McHenry.

  After surveying the scene in the gloom, Hazard pressed the ‘transmit’ button on his personal radio. ‘Land entrance secured,’ he announced. ‘Lazar, bring up Alabama. We need him to penetrate this cave.’

  ‘Negative to that, Sarge,’ Lazar replied, sounding strained. ‘I’ve got frag wounds to the legs. So has Alabama. I can’t move!’

  At that moment, more AK-47 rounds went whizzing by Hazard’s head. Ahead, he saw muzzle flashes. Many more Taliban were rushing to the entrance from deeper inside the cave. ‘Oh, crap!’ Hazard exclaimed. ‘Hit the dirt!’ he yelled, dropping to the ground. ‘Stun grenades! Give ’em stun grenades.’

  At the Taliban encampment inside Deep Cave, Commander Baradar had been awoken by the sound of gunfire. He knew at once wha
t this must mean – ISAF troops were on the attack. First dispatching his remaining men to the entrance, to hold it as long as possible, Commander Baradar took out his mobile and tried to call Abdul Razah inside the cave, to instruct him to detonate the explosive vest on Dr Park. But Baradar’s phone wouldn’t transmit.

  ‘Work of the devil!’ he cursed.

  For the moment, the life of the secretary-general had been preserved by a failure of technology. Casting the phone aside with disgust, Baradar took up his AK-47 and hurried deeper into the cave.

  ‘Stay still!’ mumbled Lucky Mertz. Using the infrared sight on his long-barrelled sniper rifle, he tried to get a bead on Abdul Razah.

  The sounds of firing at the cave’s landward entrance could be heard faintly in the distance. Abdul Razah had tried to call Commander Baradar for instructions but without success. Panicking, Abdul dodged about, uncertain of what to do. Then he stopped. He took out the detonation switch from his trouser pocket. As Abdul hesitated, a voice called to him from the distance.

  ‘Detonate the vest!’ yelled Commander Baradar. ‘Do it now!’

  With his target now stationary, Lucky Mertz pulled the trigger. The sniper’s bullet hit Abdul in the left shoulder, spun him around and knocked him off his feet. The detonation switch went flying from his grasp and landed on the cave floor.

  ‘Let’s go!’ bellowed Charlie, as Razah went down.

  The members of Sky Team leapt to their feet and charged forward, their weapons levelled. As they dashed past Caesar, he, too, jumped up and ran after Ben.

  The remaining Taliban guard turned their way, loosing off his RPG. A fraction of a second later, another round from Lucky’s sniper rifle hit this second Taliban fighter in the arm. The man went down, dropping his weapon. Meanwhile, the blast from the man’s RPG had knocked both Charlie and Mortenson from their feet as the others continued to charge.

  Secretary-General Park, seeing that his two Taliban guards had been neutralised, struggled to his feet with his hands still bound behind his back. ‘Thank you, thank you,’ he said gratefully as his rescuers came running up to him. ‘Bless you.’

  ‘Secretary-General, get down!’ Liberty Lee ran forward on the heels of the Special Forces men. ‘It’s not yet safe!’