Lt. Commander Mollie Sanders

by Miller, Mitchell R.

Over the intercom she heard Surfer sputter. “Dammit, Gearhead, I’m flying this thing!”

  On Mollie’s radio Sea-Tac Control responded: “Navy 755, that’s way the hell away from anything. That what you want?”

  “Practicing some cross-country nav, Sea-Tac.”

  “No SAR anywhere near that course, 755. If you go down, you’re on your own.”

  “I’ve got the best pilot in the Navy, Sea-Tac. We’re not going down!”

  “Okay, 755, ascend to 40 angels. No scheduled traffic anywhere near you, but keep your eyes open, okay?”

  “Roger that, Sea-Tac.”

  Surfer spoke through the com: “You going to tell me what we just did?”

  “As soon as you make the course corrections.”

  The plane veered into a slight climb and then banked.

  “Somebody in Dagger is leaking information,” Mollie said.

  “You’re joking, right? That’s an SCI compartmented program. How would they get someone in there?”

  “Money, a sleeper agent, could be anything.”

  “What do we do about it?”

  “For now we kick this bird in the ass! Take it to Mach 1.8.”

  “Now you’re talking!”

  “Set course for Kotzebue. We’ll hook up with the Eskimo Scouts there.”

  “Is this some kind of record, from F-18 to dogsled in one day?”

  Mollie laughed. “Just drive the bird, please.”

  CHAPTER IX – ESKIMO SCOUTS

  Kotzebue Army National Guard Base

  April 20

  1047 hours

  Kevin landed the bird on the Kotzebue Army National Guard Base airfield in an arc of overhead lights. Christ, he was tired. He sure as hell hoped Gearhead wouldn’t want them to set out overland asap.

  He climbed down the ladder that had been pushed up to his cockpit. Shit! The air was cold.

  On the ground he faced an Eskimo in arctic gear. From behind someone draped a fur-lined flight jacket over Kevin’s back. Out of the corner of the eye he saw Gearhead climb down and get the same blanket wrap.

  “Welcome to Kotzube,” the Eskimo said. “I’m Scout Lieutenant Nasak.” He had to shout to make himself heard. “Still no commo with the test site.”

  Kevin nodded. Naturally that had been too much to hope for. “Is there a place we can rest?” Kevin asked.

  “You’ll have time for only a couple of hours of shut-eye. There’s a storm coming and we’ll need to get moving soon.”

  “If the storm is ‘coming,’ what do you call this?” Kevin asked.

  Nasak looked around, sniffing the air. “Light precipitation, sir.”

  Gearhead jumped in. “What about moving out now and rest on the road?”

  Nasak laughed. “What road?” Then he shook his head. “Too cold out there. Grab a couple of hours – we have time before dawn. We won’t attack before then. ”

  Kevin felt the gratitude flush through his body as he followed Nasak into an igloo-shaped building. In a room off the foyer Nasak pointed to two bunks and a table with some chow. “Head’s through there,” he said. “I’ll be back at 2330 hours. We’ve got a distance to travel.”

  Kevin motioned Gearhead to take the first shift in the head. Still standing, he stuffed half a roast beef sandwich in his mouth, washed it down with some coffee. Hell, he was so tired the caffeine wouldn’t keep him up.

  He scooted into the head for his turn and then climbed up into the top bunk before Gearhead had taken more than a couple of bites of her food.

  For a moment before closing his eyes, Kevin stared down at the woman. Damn, she was good looking. She was also hard-as-nails. He wondered if she ever got any. Probably didn’t let a guy within 10 feet of her, which was too bad, because she was probably a good lay – all that energy…

  **

  Mollie awoke instantly when she felt the tap on her shoulder. She rolled out of bed and grabbed the cup of coffee that Scout Lieutenant Nasak handed her.

  “Thanks,” she said as Surfer climbed down from the upper bunk.

  “You’ve got five minutes,” Nasak said.

  Five minutes was all she needed. She even let Surfer have equal time in the head.

  They both pulled on the white arctic outerwear that Nasak had left for them. Then they went outside to meet the other Eskimo scouts – soldiers from the 3rd Battalion, 207th Infantry – as they rushed to mount Sno-Cats and other arctic vehicles.

  Mollie clambered up into the indicated Sno-Cat, followed by Surfer. She watched Nasak grab a walkie-talkie from his kit and talk on it as he climbed up the side of the Sno-Cat.

  “Arctic Fox, this is Arctic Fox Six. Move now! Move now!”

  Nasak climbed into the cabin. The engines roared as the vehicles charged though the gate and blasted over the tundra, their treads throwing up fountains of snow.

  Four hours later Surfer shot Mollie a look as the ‘Cat barreled along, rattling furiously, and he stared at a map, peering out the window and shaking his head.

  “How much farther?” Surfer asked Nasak.

  Nasak opened the door, got out on the step, looked around in the pre-dawn light, then came back in. “’Bout another 10 klicks. Half an hour.”

  “There aren’t any landmarks – what did you …?”

  Mollie laughed as the Eskimo looked at Surfer.

  “Right. Eskimo Scouts. Sorry,” Surfer said.

  Thirty minutes later the Sno-Cats were laagered in a circle. The Scouts climbed out, swinging packs on their backs and passing out equipment.

  Nasak handed Mollie and Surfer each a pair of cross-country skis. “Know how to use these, right?”

  Mollie watched Surfer lay out the skis and slip his boots into the bindings. She just looked at the skis, then threw them on the ground and tried to put them on.

  “There’s something you’re not perfect at?” Surfer said.

  She scowled at him.

  He slipped out of his skis, put his arms around her to position her correctly, and then got back on his own skis in less than a minute. “How the hell?” she said.

  “California. Mountains and beaches,” he said.

  Nasak pointed out the objective. “It’s right over that ridge. We’ll ski up, be in a position to hit them with the sun at our backs.”

  He signaled to the sole woman trooper to take the point. She slid off, flankers following.

  Nasak nodded in satisfaction, then moved out.

  Surfer motioned for Mollie to follow; he’d track behind.

  “It’s a rhythm thing,” he said. “Right foot slide, left foot slide, right foot slide, left foot slide. Shift your weight. Not so heavy on the poles. Shift your weight. That’s better. Thrust down with your hip and shoulders. Then the other side. Better.”

  Mollie imagined a t’ai chi movement that required such shifting back and forth, and with this image in her mind she moved smoothly forward.

  Within 20 minutes they reached a ridge overlooking the anti-missile test base. Mollie and the others deployed on the ridge.

  Below the crest, with only their snow-camouflaged helmets and rifles showing, they were for all practical purposes invisible from the base.

  Mollie watched Nasak scan the base with infrared binoculars. He slid down from the crest to where he couldn’t be seen from the base, then stood next to her.

  Nasak signaled and a sergeant tapped a guardsman, who duck-ran over to Nasak. “Eddie, doesn’t your cousin work here?”

  “Yes, sir. He’s a guard. I’ve been up here before. Know most of the guys.”

  “Willing to try something a little crazy?”

  “Crazy is my first name, Lieutenant!”

  Nasak smiled. “Give me your rifle and take off the camo smock. Skid over there to the gate and ask for your cousin. If they call him and he comes out to meet you, we’re okay. If they give you some bullshit story, back out of there!”

  Mollie saw a dubious look spread over Eddie’s face.

  “Not to worry, Eddie,” Nasak said. �
�Sergeant Rostopovich will have you covered the whole time.”

  Nasak pointed down the ridge to where another Scout with a long rife had set up a field position accompanied by his spotter.

  Mollie slung the M40A3 Marine sniper rifle she’d chosen back at the Scout base. She took out a suppressor and screwed it to the front of the rifle.

  “Leave him his targets. I’ll cover Eddie.”

  Nasak looked at her.

  Surfer saw the look and said, “She may not be able to ski, Lieutenant, but put a weapon in her hands and she’s the Angel of Death.”

  Mollie looked side-ways at Surfer. So he’d been impressed with her shooting. He damn well should have been!

  Nasak’s eyes locked with Surfer’s to check if he were serious.

  “That’s my man out there,” Nasak said. “You’d better be right.”

  Surfer moved closer to the Scout lieutenant, slapped him on the shoulder. “Once she starts shooting, every tango visible from her position will be dead. Before you heard the round fired.”

  Nasak shrugged, then nodded to Mollie, who crawled over to the ridge and started digging out snow to make a sniper’s hide.

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw Nasak wave Eddie forward, then Nasak duck-walked back to the ridgeline.

  Surfer hurried over to Mollie and took a position next to her as her spotter, wielding a pair of binoculars. “I gave my word,” Surfer said when she shot a look at him.

  Through her rifle scope Mollie saw Eddie approach the guard post. A uniformed guard came out, his parka concealing his face.

  She could see Eddie speaking, then the guard answering. Hand on his holstered pistol, the guard waved Eddie away.

  As Eddie trudged through the snow, the guard drew his pistol, swung it up in Eddie’s direction. Wrong move.

  Mollie pressed her trigger and there was a soft, hollow “thuup.” The guard’s head snapped back, hitting the wall of the guard post, and his body slowly fell to the guard. One shot, one kill. As the body scraped along the wall of the shack, it left a trail of blood and brains.

  K’thick-k’thock – Mollie operated the bolt and another round was loaded into the sniper rifle’s chamber. Controlled as her hand motions were, she couldn’t suppress her internal excitement. She had been right to fly up here! The anti-missile base had been compromised.

  Eddie whirled and hit the snow, drawing out a pistol from under his parka. Nasak signaled one squad forward. The squad advanced down the hill. No shooting yet.

  Mollie watched another guard start out of the shack to look for his buddy. Surfer, watching through the binoculars, spoke to Mollie. “Right, two meters, up. Second guard.”

  “Target,” Mollie said.

  The guard was not halfway out the door when another “thuupp” blew off the back of his head.

  By now the first squad was at the guard post. They entered it and, a moment later, reappeared, signaling no other tangos.

  Nasak pointed to the snipers, then to his eyes.

  Mollie, Surfer, Rostopovich and his spotter remained on overwatch.

  Mollie watched Nasak jump up, leading the rest of his Scouts forward. They passed the guard post, entered the outside yard of the compound.

  Nasak turned back toward the hill, pointed to his eyes, turned around and made a cutting motion with his hand on a line between the guard post and the base main building. The snipers’ areas of responsibility were demarcated. Mollie nodded to herself.

  Two pairs of Scouts ran up to the two wall-mounted cameras. While one guarded, the other threw a weighted monofilament fishing line to loop around the camera cable. He tugged, and the cable was severed by the ultrafine line.

  Nasak waved his men to ground. From Mollie’s position, they seemed to disappear.

  She watched Nasak enter the guard post and reappear a moment later as a loud alarm BLARED. Nothing happened for 30 seconds or so …

  Then six men charged out of the front doors of the base building, firing their AK-47s from the hip on full automatic, and screaming: “Allah Akbar! Allah Akbar!”

  Mollie knew they were blazing away into thin air. The rising sun was in their eyes and the storm was approaching – the tangos couldn’t see anything.

  When the terrorists stopped running out of the building and their magazines began to lock open on empty, Nasak jumped out of the guard post and fired – on semi-automatic.

  Mollie knew that was the signal for the rest of Nasak’s men to do the same. Through the single-shot fire of the M4s, she could hear the squad automatic weapons fired in two-to-three shot bursts.

  The tangos in front were down in seconds.

  A tango leaned over the roof with an RPG. Before he could take aim, Rostopovich had taken him out. The RPG round fired uselessly into the sky.

  Screaming was heard from the terrorists on the roof caught in the backblast.

  A tango – well back from the edge of the roof – lobbed a grenade high in the air, like a long downfield forward pass.

  Mollie’s scope tracked the grenade in its long, high arc. Thuup!

  The shot hit the grenade, interrupting its flight and exploding it over the roof.

  More screaming from the tangos.

  “Shit! That was impossible. Even for you,” Surfer said at her side.

  “No different from trap-shooting.”

  Mollie went back to firing.

  K’thick-k’thock. A round went over the edge of the roof, spanging on the parapet. K’thick-k’thock. A few meters to the right, another round. K’thick-k’thock. Another. Click.

  Magazine release. Clack. Another inserted. K’thick-k’thock. Another round a few meters to the right.

  Rostopovich copied her actions on his portion of the roof.

  If there were any tangos on the roof, they were not sticking their heads up now.

  Mollie watched the Scouts cautiously move to the doors of the main building, checking to see if any tangos were still alive.

  Through the scope she could see a terrorist’s body lying in the doorway, unintentionally wedging it open.

  Nasak turned toward the ridge and called in the snipers and their spotters.

  As the four of them started forward, Mollie saw two of Nasak’s men toss in flash-bangs. After the explosions the Scouts rushed into the building in clearing formation.

  Mollie with Surfer and Rostopovich with his spotter moved down the ridge and into the base by bounds – one sniper team running forward while the over covered, then the second team moving while the first covered.

  The two sniper teams passed the Scouts – who were checking the bodies and tending to the wounded terrorists – and met at the door.

  Rostopovich said, “Great shooting, dude! Hoo-wah! You can cover my butt any time.”

  Mollie turned to him and she saw he had just realized he was talking to a woman. “Excuse me! Ma’am, I ah, didn’t, uh, mean – what that sounded like …”

  Mollie smiled. “Not to worry, Sergeant. Heard it before. It’s the thought that counts. Now I suggest you go right and I’ll go left.”

  “Yes, ma’am!”

  Mollie and Surfer entered the building and moved toward the teams heading left. Door-kicking, flash-bangs, shouts of “Clear!” were heard at frequent intervals.

  Mollie and Surfer ran into Nasak’s command group. He yelled into a walkie-talkie. “Harper, shut the heat off, but leave the fan running on high. 2-6, out!”

  To the troops Nasak said, “Break some windows, guy. It’ll get cold in here real quick and the RIFs aren’t prepared for cold.”

  **

  Mollie, Surfer, Nasak and some of Nasak’s troops exited a staircase and entered a basement corridor. Nasak tried the handle of a closed metal door at the end of the corridor. Locked tight.

  Nasak nodded at Mollie and Surfer. His nod clearly meant that this might be where the terrorists were holed up for a last-ditch stand.

  With one hand a Scout aimed a thermal scanning device at the door and checked the output. “Twe
nty live ones, Lieutenant,” he said.

  “May be friendlies also,” Nasak said.

  A messenger skidded up to Nasak. “The building is cleared, sir.”

  Nasak nodded. “Except for this room. Marley, Dartuk. Breaching charge!

  Mollie stepped up to Nasak. “If I may, Lieutenant?”

  She slung her rifle, took out her BlackBerry, a cable, and a blank card key. She clipped the cable to the card and ran the other end of the cable into the BlackBerry. Then she ran her card through the reader, not pulling it all the way through.

  “Access Denied” flashed, while a string of hexadecimal numbers appeared on the BlackBerry screen. Mollie pulled her card out of the reader, then punched a few keys on the BlackBerry. She hit the “Send” key and the sequence transmitted.

  The lieutenant pointed to six members of the platoon, including himself. They formed a line in that order – a “stack.”

  Mollie posed her card key above the reader. Surfer held up a hand. “Wait!” he said. “Those men are prepared to die. They may blow themselves and us up as soon as we engage.”

  Mollie looked at Surfer – he had a point. Then she shook her head.

  “They would have done it already. Taken out the whole base. These guys want to live.”

  Surfer looked at her. She knew his look said, “You’re willing to risk your life and everyone else’s life on that theory?”

  About to give her standard “Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead!” speech, she reconsidered. “You could be right.” She turned to the Scouts.

  “Have you got any flash-bangs?”

  From their vests, two of the Scouts pulled cylindrical grenades, black, marked “M84 Stun Grenade.” Mollie knew that, with their tremendous noise and light, flash-bangs stun but don’t kill.

  The Scouts crouched down in front of the door. Mollie looked at Nasak. He nodded.

  Mollie gestured at the grenade-holding Scouts. They pulled the pins on the M84s, keeping the handles secure.

  Mollie grabbed the door handle with one hand, ran her card key through the reader with the other. There was a buzz as the door unlocked and she yanked open the door.

  A fusillade of gunfire poured out at them as the Scouts tossed the flash-bangs through the door.