by Ron Smoak
Thirty seconds later Tecal and two of his men appeared out of the bush beside them. Tecal squatted and began to tell Ben about the patrols they saw. He was just finishing his report when one of Tecal’s men stopped suddenly as his chest exploded. Blood flew everywhere. He fell like a sack of potatoes. They never heard the gunshot.
“Down!” screamed Ben as he pulled Tim and Tecal down to the ground, one in each hand. Tim rolled over and raised his weapon scanning the jungle where they thought the shot originated. A second shot smacked into Tim’s canteen strapped to his hip. The force rolled him over.
“Shit,” cried Tim. “This guy has our range. We gotta move!”
Tecal looked over at his man. He had died instantaneously, the shot piercing his heart and tearing through his chest. Tecal placed a hand on him seeming to both say goodbye and bless his body to their god. He picked up his weapon and shot into the jungle. Tecal was mad as hell and someone was going to pay. Ben and Tim crawled over to the right behind a large tree.
“You get a sight on him?” asked Tim.
“He’s over there somewhere; he’s using a silencer! He’s a good ways out and closing,” answered Ben. “Tecal went after him. Let’s stay here and try to pick up on the shooter.” Tim raised his head slightly and looked in the direction of where the shot came. After a minute, his eagle-eye caught movement about fifteen yards out moving through the bushes. Tim raised his weapon and took aim and glanced at Ben.
“You see him?” Ben asked whispering.
“Yep, I think so,” answered Tim quietly, trying to get a good shot. A second later Tim watched as Tecal and his remaining man sprung upon the shooter and stabbed him repeatedly. Tim blew out his breath, stood down and turned to Ben.
“They got him.”
“Great,” said Ben. “We know there are more out there so keep sharp.” There was a noise to their right and both turned swinging their weapons and taking aim. Tecal and his last man popped out of the bush and took a knee. Tim noted that Tecal’s man had the shooter’s ears tied around his waist.
“Is that…” asked Tim, pointing to something bloody hanging from Tecal’s man’s waist.
Ben placed his hand on Tim’s shoulder and interjected. “He has the man’s ears to take back to the family of the man killed. Here in the jungle when someone kills someone part of the payback is to bring the family the ears of the man who killed their loved one.” Tim nodded wide-eyed. He understood but it was still mighty weird.
“Let’s move over to the bunker by the hatch. We will take the bunker so we can have some cover and watch the hatch,” said Ben, getting up to one knee. “But keep sharp. We can’t afford to lose anyone else. The ruthless guys are out there. We know that. We have to get them before they get us.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
Monday, July 18, 2011
Fortress Alpha, Security Operations; 6:30 a.m.
“Bingo Alpha.” A message came in over the listening post’s speakers. The technicians leaped into action. Recorders were checked to ensure the messages were being properly recorded for further review.
“Bravo, go.” Another transmission came almost immediately. The security technicians were monitoring several frequencies and their scanning equipment was excellent.
“Sir, we have a contact!” one of the technicians cried. The security supervisor stepped over briskly.
“Report,” he said.
“We picked up two transmissions within the last minute. Both were transmitted in the open. Here is the transmission.”
“Bingo, Alpha.”
“Bravo, go.”
“Where did the messages come from?” asked the supervisor.
“Hard to say, sir,” replied one of the senior technicians. “Both messages were too fast to get a hard contact location, but they appeared to be close.” The supervisor checked the written report offered by the technician. With a quick scan he concluded there was a transmission of some kind and it was from close range. Both messages were transmitted on a very low frequency but strong signal strength suggested the intruders are close. The supervisor knew this was a problem since the fortress was miles from other radio sources.
“I want you to stay on this,” he told the technicians collected around him. “I have to assume we have intruders very close to us. And they are talking to each other. Using Alpha and Bravo, I believe we have two groups. What their intentions are, I do not know. That is not my call. I will report this contact immediately.” He turned and began to walk away. “Very good work,” he said encouragingly.
The supervisor stepped over to his desk and picked up the phone. “Security, this is Communications. We have intercepted two distinct radio transmissions. Confidence is very high this is not an aberration. We believe the transmission was very close.” A voice over the phone acknowledged and took the oral report and asked for a written confirmation report immediately. The supervisor acknowledged and hung up the phone.
“Get me a written report now!” he bellowed. Almost before he was able to finish his sentence the senior technician handed him the written report.
“I have it here,” the senior tech said.
“Perfect,” replied the supervisor. “Keep on top of this. I want to know immediately if we pick up anything else. I’m going to Security with this report.” The supervisor spun around and walked out of the door and down the hall.
The supervisor walked briskly toward the main Security Center. He was convinced they were under attack. But he knew that around here many times the messenger was punished rather than the instigator. He thought through what he would say. He decided to merely report the messages and not divulge his personal hypothesis. He turned the corner and walked into the Security office.
“I have a detected messages report,” he said matter-of-factly. He laid the report on the security officer’s desk. The officer snatched the report up. He was not amused.
“What the hell is this?” he demanded. “What do you mean messages? Who are you listening to?”
The supervisor straightened up. This was not going well already, he thought. “Sir, we monitor all radio transmissions around the area per direct orders from Captain Maas, sir. A few minutes ago we detected these brief messages.” The supervisor was not impressed with this young officer. Against his earlier thoughts, he decided to go out on a limb. “We have intercepted radio transmissions from two distinct groups closing in on us.”
The security officer sat back and stared at the supervisor. He picked up the report again and scanned it. “I don’t see that here. Besides, we make the determination whether there is a threat based on these reports. You say there were only two?” he asked the fidgeting supervisor.
“Yes, sir,” he answered.
“And I see they lasted for only a few seconds?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now, don’t you think if someone was storming our position there would be a bit more conversation between the two forces?” asked the officer pointedly.
The supervisor hesitated. He did not want to argue with this officer or any officer for that matter. “Yes, sir.” He bit his lip to fight back the urge to say more.
“Well, I will pass this on but I seriously doubt there is anything to it,” said the officer, acting as if the supervisor had already left. He placed the report in an out tray and began working on other documents. The supervisor just stood there. He wanted to say more but wouldn’t dare. The officer looked up again. “You may go,” he said, dismissing him. The supervisor saluted and spun around and left the office. What a damned idiot, thought the supervisor. Anyway, I did my job and reported the messages. Let him take the blame when the shit hits the fan.
Twenty minutes later the security officer reported the messages to his superior.
“When did you get this?” demanded his superior, bolting out of his chair.
“About twenty minutes ago,” said the officer. “It looks like some idle chatter out there somewhere.”
“You damned fool!” his superior
screamed. “Your orders were to report all message interceptions immediately. Why the hell did you wait twenty minutes?”
“Well, I…” the officer said meekly.
“Shut up!” his superior screamed. “I’ll deal with you later. I have to report this right now!” The officer’s superior ran over to the telephone and dialed.
“I have an emergency message for Captain Maas,” he said loudly. “Maas needs this information now. Where is he?”
The answer was Maas was not there but somewhere in the Fortress.
“Find him!” the superior officer yelled. “Find him now and tell him we have messages from two groups attacking the Fortress.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
Monday, July 18, 2011
Deep within Fortress Alpha; 7:00 a.m.
Jorgen Maas slowly waltzed into the room savoring his actions. He studied the operations of the Reichsführer of the SS in Germany, Heinrich Himmler. Himmler’s actions and the actions of his Gestapo (the German Secret State Police) directly caused the deaths of more than six million souls during World War II. Their actions were a prominent tenet of Nazism; attack the total person; attack them completely and sadistically without regard to morality or human life.
Maas had no regard for anyone, even his own men. Oberleutnant Grübner was already a mess. Maas’ men had him for only an hour but had almost beaten the poor man to death. Maas walked over to Grübner, whose wrists were tied securely behind his back and he was suspended by his wrists, hanging naked in the center of the room. His hanging brought horrific pain to his muscles and shoulder joints. His body was drenched in sweat and blood. He endured the suspension for thirty minutes, during which time he was beaten with an old truck fan belt. This was a favorite interrogation tactic of Maas’ men. They took notice of the techniques not only of the Germans in the war but those used by Saddam Hussein’s troops against the Iranian prisoners during the Iran-Iraq war in the mid to late 1980’s. Many hundreds of rule breakers and other offenders in the Fortress were dealt with in this manner.
The reinforced fan belts were strong and would not come apart. They lasted for a long time and survived multiple uses. The belts did enormous physical damage to the poor person they were used upon. The belts had wire reinforcing built into their structure. They created heavy damage to the skin and seemed to rip the skin open, delivering horrible results.
Most persons did not survive extended use of the belts against them. Western military personnel viewed the use of the fan belts as a violation of the Geneva Conventions, although the belts were not specifically mentioned.
Maas stood before Grübner looking over his men’s handiwork. His face had been beaten as well. Several well placed lashes across the face almost blinded the poor man. He was hanging there moaning.
“Very nice work,” Maas said, smiling at the two goons standing over by the wall preparing some other ungodly torture. “It looks like Grübner’s last hours on earth will be very painful. That is exactly what I intended,” Maas said loudly as he smashed his fist into Grübner’s midsection. He spewed blood and spit all over Maas. This infuriated Maas. “You stinking pig!” he screamed. “I will flay you like a fish!” Maas strode over to his henchmen. “Flay the skin from his body. But take care. I want him alive to suffer the pain. If you kill him, you will take his place,” he hissed.
One of Maas’ men opened a small chest and took out a sparkling set of stainless steel cutting instruments and laid them on a tray. This was not going to be pretty.
Maas walked over to a large padded chair placed eight feet in front of Grübner. He wanted a front row seat. As he settled in, a man came running into the room.
“What are you doing here?” Maas bellowed as he stood and faced the man.
“Sir, I’m sorry but I have urgent news. We are under attack!”
Maas’ face went from rage to concern in less than a second. “What is happening? Tell me!”
“Sir, the communications room picked up several radio messages. We believe they point to an attack by two separate groups,” reported the man, still breathing hard.
Maas’ thoughts switched immediately from Grübner to the situation. He strode out of the room with the man following. “How many men were involved? Where are they attacking? Have you sent our troops in?” Maas was asking questions faster than the poor man could answer.
“Sir, we do not know how many men or where they are attacking,” he explained. Maas stopped and looked at him puzzled.
“Then how in the hell…” Maas started.
“Sir, we believe the two groups are small and are very close to the Fortress. Where, we do not know. Our patrols have not reported any contacts but the radio messages persist.”
Maas stopped, turned back to yell at his henchmen. “Keep him alive,” he screamed. “I want to see him die myself.”
“Yes, sir,” one of Maas’ men responded.
Maas spun around and raced to the elevator. He needed to get on top of this right now.
When he got to the Security Center, Maas’ assistant, Max Delper, met him at the door.
“Sir, we have confirmed multiple radio messages close to the complex. All of our watch posts and patrols were notified. All but two reported back in.”
“Those that did not report back,” Maas questioned, “have you sent someone to notify them directly?”
“No, sir. Their operative orders were to maintain watch in the bunkers and periodically patrol the area around their bunker. We believe they are on patrol,” explained Delper.
Maas looked at him with steely eyes. “You believe…” Maas looked like he was going to explode. “Where are the two bunkers in question?”
The two men stepped over to the map on the wall. After checking the reports, Delper pointed to two block-shaped red icons on the map.
“One is here and the other north of that bunker,” noted Delper. Maas looked at the map and the locations. He immediately saw the problem.
“That bunker,” he said, pointing to the southern bunker, “is the one we set up after the last visit of the intruders. In fact, it was placed there to provide visual protection for the external access hatch there.” He jammed his finger on the map where the hatch was located. “Now you tell me the bunker is not responding; the exact location of the first incursion? I don’t believe it for a second!” he boomed. “Get some troops to that position immediately! I think the reason our patrol has not checked in is because they are dead!” Maas stared at Delper. Delper hesitated for a split second and then grabbed up the phone and ordered troops to the bunker.
“While you are at it, send troops to the other bunker as well,” Maas sighed. “They are probably dead too.”
Delper hung up the phone and turned to Maas. “Sir, we have troops en route.”
“Thank you, Delper,” said Maas in a low tone. “That makes me feel better!” he screamed, pounding his fist on the desk. Almost immediately the phone rang.
“Delper,” answered Maas’ assistant. His face turned pale. He listened and nodded his head. “Thank you,” he answered and turned to Maas. “Sir, we have confirmation of the death of two of our men from the northern bunker. A patrol just came across their bodies.”
“Dammit! I knew it. They are back. The sons of bitches are back,” he yelled. “Put the entire complex on highest alert, now! All defense teams to their positions. As of this second we are at war!” Have Captain Boehm report to me at once. I will be in my office. Maas stormed out of the Security Center and down the hall to his office.
Five minutes later, Captain Boehm stepped into Maas’ office. “Sir, you requested my presence?” she stated.
“I did not request anything, Boehm. I ordered it!” he stated loudly. Boehm did not flinch. She stood her ground. Maas liked that. He thought about Grübner. That sniveling bastard would have tucked his tail between his legs and meekly apologized. Boehm took it like a soldier. “We have now been at war for more than ten minutes. Report!”
“Sir, all units answere
d the call. I personally deployed our best troops to the two areas in question as well as to all other important ingress and egress points. If they are after something here, they have to get in. We will stop them from entering the Fortress. All access points are secured and under heavy guard. I also deployed tactical teams outside of the complex to guard the access points. They are under orders to fight to the death before letting anyone in.” Boehm stood there in front of Maas like an iron stake driven into the ground. “I am, of course, open to any additional suggestions you may have, sir,” she snapped.
“Very good,” said Maas, actually feeling better about the situation after hearing Boehm’s report. “I have no further orders but this…” He leaned over within an inch of Boehm’s face. “I hold you personally responsible for the defense of the Fortress. I don’t have to tell you how important its defense is to our cause. Now go. You have my full support. If you need more men or equipment, you have authority above all others except me. Do you understand?” Boehm’s eyes remained fixed on Maas.
“Yes, sir, very good, sir,” she said as she spun around and opened the door. She turned back to Maas. “My troops and I will defend this Fortress to our deaths. Make no mistake about that.” That said, she walked out of the room and closed the door.
Maas smiled for the first time in several hours. What a complete bitch she is, he thought. I knew there was something I liked about her besides her ass.
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
Monday, July 18, 2011
Fortress Alpha; 7:20 a.m.
Dane and Hugo were lucky, very lucky. According to the maps they found, they were close to the freight elevator to transport them to the lower levels. As they passed room after room they only had to hide twice in their quest across the width of the complex. That is until they came to the last corner before the elevator.