Relentless Savage

by Dave Edlund

  Then Jim’s eye saw it.

  “What is it Boss Man?” Ghost asked.

  “The floor,” he answered, pointing at a particular section of the marble in front of the shelves. “What is that?”

  Ghost and Magnum looked down at the floor near their feet. There were some black streaks, rub marks, on the pale marble. Magnum leaned down and rubbed his thumb against one of the marks. “Feels like a scuff mark.”

  “Like from a boot?” Jim said.

  Magnum nodded.

  “Did either of you make those marks?”

  The two men looked at each other, and then back at Jim. “No, sir!”

  Jim approached and bent down to feel the marks. Yes, scuff marks from a boot, or boots. Why here at the base of the bookcase? And then it dawned on him.

  “It’s a passageway.”

  “What?” Magnum questioned.

  “Behind the bookcase, there’s a passageway. These scuff marks were made by Ming and his guards scrambling out of here. They probably were escaping just as Bull shot the lock off the outer door.”

  “Then there must be a secret lever or something to open it,” Magnum said.

  “All we have to do is find it.”

  “But what are we looking for?” Ghost inquired.

  “I don’t know. I’ve never seen a real secret passage, only in the movies. Try pulling out the books, and then picking up the figurines and other pieces on the shelves. Something must unlatch the hidden door… maybe a lever under the shelves.”

  They each took a different section of the floor-to-ceiling bookcase. The moved every book, picked up every art piece, ran hands along the underside of all the shelves. Nothing worked, and Jim was growing discouraged. He sighed and stepped back, collecting his thoughts.

  Then he spotted the light fixtures… two of them. Each shaped like a torch held by a bronze hand. They were mounted on either side of the center panel of shelving. He pulled on the left torch, then the right torch. Nothing. Both were firmly attached to the wood paneling

  He considered the problem for a moment, and then he tried twisting them. First the left torch… twist to the right. Nothing. Twist to the left. Nothing. It was solidly mounted and not going to move. He approached the right torch and twisted it to the left.

  The center panel of shelves swung silently back into a passageway behind the wall. A single bulb cast a dim light that illuminated a landing and a flight of stairs leading down.

  Jim looked at Ghost, Magnum, and Bull. “Let’s go get him.”

  Chapter 45

  Darfur

  June 14 0905 hours

  With Jim in the lead, the SGIT team rushed down the stairway into the darkness below, weapons raised and ready. As they moved deeper, lights flickered on before them, activated by motion sensors. They descended perhaps 30 feet when they came to the base of the stairway and found themselves entering a wide corridor leading off in both directions. The gray concrete floor, walls, and ceiling were dimly illuminated by bulbs spaced along the wall about twenty feet apart. Tucked up tight against the ceiling were many parallel runs of electrical conduit and a single, wide rectangular ventilation duct.

  Pausing for a moment, with Ghost and Magnum training their weapons in one direction down the seemingly endless corridor, and Bull covering the opposite direction, Jim gathered his thoughts. He had absolutely no way of knowing which direction Colonel Ming had gone.

  Then he heard it. The noise was faint, but it sounded like a door closing. It had come from the left.

  Jim swiveled. “Let’s go. We might still be able to catch him. But we have to move fast!”

  The men rushed to the end of the corridor where it bent to the right. They had yet to see a door along the vast tunnel, only occasional service panels. After covering about 200 yards from the stairs, they spotted a set of double steel doors.

  With the team pointing their weapons forward, Jim slowly opened the door just a crack. The lack of gunshots encouraged him to open the door fully. The room was empty but brightly lit.

  It looked like a meeting or conference room. In the room’s center stood an oval table with ten plush leather chairs surrounding it. On the wall to their left hung a large projection screen. To their right sat a small table with a neat stack of porcelain cups. On the opposite side of the room was a set of double doors.

  “We must have just missed them,” Jim concluded. He jogged around the conference table to the double doors followed closely by his team. Jim opened one of the doors just a crack and peered into a junction of two concrete corridors. One broad passageway extended away from their position in a straight line, a second hallway stretched to the left and right.

  Still peering around the door, Jim saw a group of Chinese soldiers about 25 yards down the wide passageway. Jim flung open the door. Raising his rifle he shouted, “Stop… or I’ll shoot!”

  Immediately, Jim’s team took up defensive positions using the doorway as cover and trained their guns on the group of six soldiers. Jim stood firmly, legs slightly spread, and sighting down the barrel of the assault rifle.

  The Chinese soldiers stopped, standing motionless with their backs toward the SGIT team, totally exposed in the middle of the corridor. Slowly, Colonel Ming turned around and locked eyes with Jim. The other Chinese soldiers did likewise.

  “So, Commander. It appears I should have killed you earlier.”

  “I hear that a lot.” Even as he spoke, Jim kept Ming in his sights; finger on the trigger and looking for a reason to fire.

  Ming and his soldiers formed a tight group with half his men behind their comrades now facing Commander Nicolaou.

  The SGIT soldiers remained firm in their stance. The Chinese soldiers kept their weapons down.

  “You cannot win Commander. You are hopelessly outnumbered.”

  Jim shrugged slightly, but never moved his eyes, or rifle, from his target. “We’ve done pretty well so far.”

  Ming nodded, “So you have.” At the same time he made an almost imperceptible motion with his fingers. It was so slight that the SGIT team missed it—but Ming’s escorts did not. Two men began to slowly move away from Ming, attempting to open up the tight group. They needed to separate a bit if they were all to have freedom of movement necessary to raise and maneuver their weapons.

  “I can make you a very wealthy man, Commander,” Ming offered, trying to buy time and distract Commander Nicolaou.

  “I’m not interested in your blood money.”

  Colonel Ming shrugged. “Maybe you aren’t, but what about your men? I can pay them each more than they could earn in two lifetimes.”

  The SGIT team remained silent as they continued to sight down their weapons at the Chinese soldiers surrounding Colonel Ming.

  “Intriguing possibility, isn’t it?” Ming continued. “All you have to do is put down your weapons. That’s all.”

  “No deal.” Ghost said. Magnum and Bull held their position and rock-steady aim at the enemy soldiers.

  Ming’s guards continued to edge away from the group and gain valuable maneuvering room. Jim realized what they were doing, and understood the tactical implications. “Tell your men to freeze!”

  Ming stared defiantly back at Jim.

  The Chinese guards increased their spacing and were approaching the point at which Jim thought they could attempt a counter attack. Ming continued to lock eyes with Jim, and a slight smirk appeared on his face. Ming believed that the West was weak because its society felt too strongly about protecting life, preserving rights, and forgiving one’s wrong doings.

  Ming continued to fatally underestimate his adversary.

  CRACK! The sound of the shot was deafening in the confined spaced and echoed off the hard surfaces.

  Jim’s aim was true, and one guard who had looked most eager to prove himself to Colonel Ming lay dead on the cold, hard concrete floor.

  The sound of the ejected shell casing was still rattling on the floor when Jim ordered again, “I said freeze! No one moves!”


  The remaining Chinese guards were not stupid. Ming snarled, and his eyes filled with hatred.

  “Drop your weapons!”

  The order came from Jim’s right and took Jim and his team completely by surprise.

  Reluctant to let Ming go, Jim spun and pointed his weapon at four armed men in camouflage jumpsuits. Bull also pivoted toward the new threat a split second behind his commander.

  This left Ghost and Magnum in the stand-off with Colonel Ming’s soldiers.

  “Put down your weapons! My men will shoot.” This order came from one of the camouflage-clad soldiers.

  From Ming’s position he could not see the new threat to the SGIT team. But he instantly recognized the opportunity created by this diversion and ordered his men to fire.

  Jim just caught the movement in his peripheral vision as the Chinese soldiers raised their weapons and opened up.

  “Down!” Jim shouted. He and the rest of the SGIT team dove back through the doorway into the conference room. A fusillade of bullets screamed over their heads, tearing up several of the leather chairs and blasting fragments of concrete from the far wall.

  As rapidly as it started, the shooting stopped. It was just the break that Ming needed. Surrounded by his soldiers, he bolted down the side corridor and out of sight.

  Chapter 46

  Darfur

  June 14 0855 hours

  Peter missed the cool pre-dawn air as the morning heat radiated from the dirt and rocks. It was already beginning to feel like he was sitting in an oven.

  With the previous threats outside the compound buildings neutralized, Peter was discussing a plan of action with Homer while Todd and Gary remained vigilant in case a new surprise appeared.

  Vultures were already beginning to circle high overhead, drawn by the sight of the battlefield littered with bodies. For the next several days the desert scavengers would eat well.

  “We remain in our position, maintain radio silence, and wait for Boss Man to check in with new orders,” Homer stated.

  “And if those orders don’t come in? Then what?”

  Homer didn’t answer immediately.

  “Look, we are completely exposed to the elements here,” Peter argued. “There’s little shade and by mid-day we’ll all be baking. Between the sun’s rays and the heat reflected off the rocks, the temperature will exceed 120 degrees. If dehydration doesn’t kill us, heat stroke will!”

  “I have my orders. We stick with the plan.”

  Peter couldn’t believe what he was hearing. To make matters worse, both Gary and Ethan had suffered injuries serious enough to make them more vulnerable to physiological stress.

  “You can’t be serious!” he pressed the issue further.

  Homer stepped forward to face Peter, and spoke in a low and firm voice. “I am very serious. I have my orders. Besides, I know my commander and my team; I trust them. Perhaps you should have more faith in them, too.”

  Homer turned away from Peter, returning to his position overlooking the compound. Out of the corner of his vision, up the slope rising a couple hundred feet above them, he saw a brief flash. Pausing, he focused his vision and studied the spot. There was nothing, and he began to question whether he had seen anything at all. He stood motionless and stared at the spot for another 30 seconds. Still nothing. Perhaps it was just a trick of the desert heat.

  “What is it?” Peter asked, observing Homer’s redirected attention.

  “Maybe nothing, but I thought I saw a flash of light… maybe a reflection or something.”

  Peter also began studying the hillside, even though he didn’t really know where to look.

  Homer leaned over and retrieved his rifle. Hefting the heavy weapon to his shoulder and arching his back slightly, he pointed it up the slope and used the scope’s magnification to search the area where he believed he had seen the spec of light.

  All of a sudden, a dark shape exploded from the scattered boulders and started running down the slope! It was a Homothal, and it was firing its assault rifle from the hip as it carried out a suicidal charge.

  Peter stared in disbelief when the crack of Homer’s rifle sounded. The stocky body collapsed and rolled down the slope another 30 yards before coming to rest.

  “What the…” Peter mumbled.

  The echo was still reverberating off the surrounding ridges when a barrage of gunfire erupted from higher up the slope.

  “Back to the boulders!” Homer shouted.

  Peter and Homer ran back to Todd and Gary and began shifting their positions so they could shoot up the ridge from the opposite side of the boulders that had protected them so far.

  Led by the Janjaweed barbarian named Korlos, the squad of Chinese soldiers and Homothals had circled around out of sight of Homer’s position, climbing the ridge so that they could descend from above the snipers. The plan would have worked had the Homothal not spooked when Homer was using his riflescope. Little did the Homothal know that it had not been seen until it jumped up and charged down the slope.

  Automatic rifle fire was raining down onto their position, bullets cratering in the dirt and ricocheting off rocks. Homer was the first to return fire, the Barrett still proving to be a superior long-range weapon. Except that now the enemy was within rifle range, and the snipers had to quickly aim, shoot, and get back behind cover. Without the luxury of time to sight the Barretts with care, the civilians were only connecting on each second or third shot.

  The Chinese and Homothals progressed down the slope, using the sparse cover for protection. Todd was taking careful aim at the nearest Chinese soldier as a succession of three bullets slammed in the boulder only inches from his head.

  The Chinese soldier was carrying an RPG and was almost within range. The soldier rose to one knee and steadied himself next to a cluster of rocks to aim. At the same time, two Homothals began firing a deadly barrage of automatic fire into the sniper’s position. Todd didn’t flinch. He concentrated, aimed, and squeezed the trigger.

  BOOM! The bullet struck the RPG launcher, shattering the handgrip and the Chinese soldier’s forearm at the same instant. The launcher was knocked from his grip; before the soldier could recover, another bullet—this one fired by Peter—struck the man in the chest.

  Korlos was yelling orders to his squad. Although Homer couldn’t make out his words, it was clear that he was in charge. Homer trained his sights on Korlos and fired. But Korlos was moving too quickly between boulders and rock outcroppings and the bullet kicked up a large cloud of dust only inches from his left foot. He ducked behind a large rock for cover.

  Lying on his belly, the Janjaweed leader spotted a shallow draw that led to his right and down the slope, following a wide fissure in the sandstone cliff. He ordered most of his force to keep up the murderous torrent of fire on the snipers while a smaller number—three Chinese soldiers and two Homothals—were ordered to enter the crevice in the sandstone and follow the path down the slope. Following this route, Korlos reasoned, they could flank the snipers and overrun their position.

  Peter saw the small group of Chinese and Homothals break off and move to his left where they disappeared into the sandstone outcropping. He recognized what they were planning. Even worse, he feared they would discover Ethan.

  Peter rose from his concealed position and ran forward. “What are you doing? Get down!” Homer commanded.

  “I have to get to Ethan!”

  Then Todd followed suit, with Gary close behind.

  “What are you doing?” Homer couldn’t believe what was happening. As the three men ran for cover on their way to the rock shelter where Ethan lay, all Homer could do was provide defensive fire. Unable to both return fire rapidly and retreat behind the rocks, Homer remained exposed, sighting from one target to the next.

  Bullets were striking all around him, but he continued to mechanically aim and shoot. A Chinese soldier was using hand signals to direct three Homothals to spread out and fire in unison. Marshalling all his training and skill, Home
r placed the cross hairs on the soldier’s head and squeezed the trigger. He was so absorbed that he was no longer hearing the gunfire. A fraction of a second later he saw the round strike home as an ugly crimson flower appeared where the man’s head should have been.

  Homer was in the groove. He was sensing the battle unfolding more than consciously taking it in. He had discovered this sixth sense in an early firefight near the Kachin pass along the Afghanistan-Pakistan border.

  He felt the sonic woosh as a bullet passed within an inch of his body. Twisting his torso slightly to the left, he immediately acquired the new target even as the Chinese soldier squeezed off successive rounds. Homer remained steady in his position—he calmly sighted on the target’s center of mass, and fired. He didn’t miss.

  Moving the rifle barrel only a few inches at a time, Homer swept back and forth across the slope, successfully pinning down the enemy.

  “Damn civilians,” he muttered. His only option was to lock down the enemy on the slope above him and hope that Peter and his friends could take care of themselves.

  Peter ran fast and he made it to Ethan only seconds before the first Chinese soldier came down the fissure and rounded a corner about 20 yards from where Peter stood. He fired the Barrett rifle from his hip with no time to aim. He just pointed and pulled the trigger. The bullet missed and gouged an enormous hole in the sandstone wall next to the soldier, showering him in rock chips and dust.

  The Chinese soldier had not expected to encounter the enemy here, believing the snipers were still below the mouth of the fissure. The soldier raised his assault rifle to return fire.

  In that instant Peter made a minute correction to his aim and fired again. This time he got it right. The projectile slammed into the man’s hip, causing him to cartwheel over, rifle flying in the opposite direction.

  Ethan was sitting with his back against the rock wall. In his dazed state, he thought he was secure here, so he didn’t easily comprehend the dual that had just taken place.

  Peter rushed over to his son and rested the large rifle against the rock face. He helped Ethan up onto his feet. “We have to go. It’s not safe here any longer.”