by Mel Odom
“That’s not going to happen.”
“It was happening under Corporal Baker.”
The comment stung Remington’s ego. How does he know so much? The captain had no clue.
“You were fortunate when Baker was killed.” Felix’s eyes gleamed. “Very fortunate. Even though Baker wasn’t saying anything to subvert your command, it was happening. Two camps were starting up between the men.”
Remington had known that was trouble when he’d seen it taking place.
“Sometimes, though,” Felix said, “you can arrange for fortune to come calling.” He turned his empty hands palms up.
“You’re suggesting I kill Goose.”
“If you’re going to achieve the goals I have in mind for you, that Nicolae has in mind for you, then you’re going to have to push yourself. Merely leaving him behind enemy lines and hoping they kill him isn’t going to do it.”
13
Downtown Sanliurfa
Sanliurfa Province, Turkey
Local Time 0627 Hours
When the hostess returned, she brought with her two servers carrying a veritable feast. Despite his reluctance, Remington dug in. But only a few moments later, his walkie-talkie buzzed.
Felix had turned his attention back to the computer and was typing in commands.
Remington dug his ear-throat headset from a pocket and strapped it on. He jammed the cord into the device and listened to the beep that signaled activation. “Remington,” the captain barked.
“Sir, I thought maybe you’d want to know that Harran is under attack by the Syrian military.”
Anger and dread warred for supremacy inside Remington. He’d known the attack was coming, but he hadn’t wanted to deal with it so early. The troops weren’t ready, and he didn’t have a fallback position set up.
“How do you know that?”
“We’re fielding reports from there. Lieutenant Swindoll says it’s a massive incursion.”
“We missed a troop movement that large? Why didn’t the satellite surveillance warn us about the troop movement?”
“The system has been on the blink all night, sir. We kept you updated.”
The reports were on Remington’s desk. The satellite system had been performing well. Nicolae Carpathia had granted Remington access to the satellites shortly after the disappearances, during the first wave of Syrian attacks.
“Do we have satellite surveillance over that area now?”
“No, sir. We believe our ground relays in the area are being jammed.”
Remington’s mind flew. It was possible that the Syrians had gotten troops into the city to jam the ground stations. It was just as possible the local and temporary systems were being tasked beyond their capabilities.
Felix focused on the computer. His long-fingered hands flew across the keyboard. “Harran?”
For an instant, Remington held back an answer. He didn’t like spreading military intelligence around, nor did he care for anyone else usurping control. But in the end, he needed to see whatever intel was available. “Yes.” The admission was grudging at best.
“I can get you access.” Felix’s confident tone further irritated the captain.
“How?”
Felix smiled. “Danielle Vinchenzo is part of OneWorld NewsNet. We’re everywhere.”
Remington was only slightly surprised that Felix acknowledged the ties to the international news agency. It was no secret that Nicolae Carpathia owned OneWorld Communications. The Romanian president owned or managed several international companies and corporations. But for a man like Felix, who talked of murder as a good thing, to be affiliated with the broadcasting corporation in any way seemed wrong.
The LCD screen cleared immediately. The focus was tight on Danielle Vinchenzo. The reporter was no longer calm, cool, and collected. Hunkered down behind a stone building, she tried valiantly to report the news.
“—repeat, Mark. The 75th Rangers here in Harran have just come under attack by what is believed to be Syrian forces.” Danielle ducked as a nearby explosion threw debris over her.
The camera shot wavered and spun drunkenly. The camera operator cursed and the angle changed as he obviously dropped into what he believed was a better defensive posture.
“Sir?” The prompt came from the outpost officer. “Captain Remington?”
“I’m here.” Remington tried to ease his grip on the walkie-talkie. “Get Harrison and Macauley into my ready room. Tell them I’ll be there in ten.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And keep me updated.”
“Yes, sir.”
Remington put the radio on standby.
“Your men have lost satellite feeds?” Felix took a sat-phone from inside his jacket. The device was so thin that it hadn’t broken the line of the jacket in any way.
“My support staff believes the local relays are being jammed.”
Felix smiled. “Well then, we’ll have to cut out the local relays, won’t we?” He spoke into the phone fluently in a language that wasn’t English. It sounded guttural and dark, and Remington could only assume it was Romanian. A moment later, Felix folded the phone and put it away. “You’ll have a work-around in place within minutes. It should provide you with anything you need.”
Remington wasn’t happy. Minutes cost soldiers their lives.
Looking unhappy himself, Felix shrugged. “It’s the best I can do, Captain.”
Remington stood and took his hat from the table. “I’ve got to go.”
Felix nodded. “I understand. I’m sorry you didn’t get to finish your breakfast.” He took a roll and buttered it, showing no concern for the violent tableau taking place on his computer.
The camera panned over streets where Rangers took cover. A tank round slammed into a Hummer and threw it end over end till it crashed through a storefront window.
“Are you getting this?” Danielle asked.
“Yeah, yeah,” the cameraman muttered angrily. “I’m filming.”
“Stay with it.”
“I am. I am.”
The camera swung around and focused on the Ulu Cami mosque. The Ranger fire team assigned there was trying to call in coordinates for army artillery units. In the next moment, a Syrian jet streaked out of the sky and opened fire. Cannon rounds chopped into the ancient structure, knocking stone and mortar away. A Ranger tumbled over the edge of the mosque’s tower, but before he could strike the ground, the jet fired two rockets that exploded against the building. The mosque fell to pieces, tumbling into a pile of rubble.
Remington started for the door.
“Good luck, Captain.” Felix waved, then switched his attention back to the computer.
Local Time 0631 Hours
Remington clambered into his Hummer, started the engine, and backed out of the parking area. Then he stopped. Felix’s midnight blue Mercedes was parked in front of him.
Uncertainty wove a tangled web inside the captain. He was jealous of Goose, and he recognized the potential for a split pull in the command because the first sergeant was so popular, but Goose was his to deal with. No one else had that right.
And no one else is going to tell me what to do or how to do it.
The fact that the satellites had been jammed without anyone’s knowledge bothered him too. The feeds came through Carpathia’s corporations. Remington didn’t know how people there could miss the fact that they were being jammed. The fail-out and recovery had gone on all night, usually lasting for only minutes at a time.
Then Felix had called and demanded a meeting this morning. Another attempt to tell Remington how to do his business.
Snarling an oath, Remington turned the Hummer’s wheel a little and released the clutch. The Hummer surged forward, and the reinforced bumper slid across the Mercedes’s right rear quarter panel. The luxury car’s fender caved instantly, and the security system alarm blared.
Remington experienced momentary satisfaction with the destruction when he imagined Felix’s discomfiture, but th
at quickly faded. Several important resources were at risk in Harran. He had to find a way to save what he could.
With any luck, Goose would be buried in that cellar Lieutenant Swindoll had assigned him.
14
United States 75th Army Rangers Outpost
Harran
Sanliurfa Province, Turkey
Local Time 0628 Hours
By the time Chaplain Miller hurried back down the basement stairs, Goose was almost ready to crawl out of his own skin. He’d been pacing for the last twenty minutes in an effort to burn off the excess energy that filled him. In the last seven minutes, the outpost had come alive. Screaming Klaxons and the sound of grinding equipment invaded the basement.
The lantern jumped all the time now.
Miller breathed rapidly and blood suffused his face. “The Syrians are coming.”
“The lieutenant knows?”
“Yes. I was in his office trying to persuade him to come see you when we got the news.”
“How bad is it?”
“They’re throwing everything at us but the kitchen sink.”
Fear swarmed Goose for a moment, but he wasn’t thinking of himself. The 75th had some old-timers in the unit, like him, but there was a lot of young blood too. Iraq hadn’t prepared them for what they’d seen these last few weeks. He knew because he’d buried them.
Goose shook his head in disbelief. “They’re catching us flatfooted. How’d they get so close?”
“They jammed the communications relays to the satellites.”
“We haven’t had sat-recon?”
“Not for hours.”
“Swindoll should have known this was coming. Captain Remington should have known.”
“The systems out here haven’t been reliable all the time.”
“You never trust hardware 100 percent. Swindoll should have known that.”
“He’s today’s army.” Miller frowned.
“The army’s got a lot of tech backing it these days. Good stuff. But too many of these kids rely on the toys too much.” Goose blew out his breath in disgust. “It’s not completely their fault. The brass puts too much stock in them too. But we’re in a fix now.”
Miller focused on Goose. “You knew they were coming.”
“I thought they were.”
“From the lantern.”
Goose nodded. “Heavy armor can come quietly sometimes, but the vibrations still give them away.”
“The lantern’s movements could have been caused by vehicles moving around here.”
“Could have been. But it turns out it wasn’t.” Goose headed up the stairs.
“Where are you going?” Miller hurried to catch up.
“Out. There’s a lot of boys out there who are going to be in trouble.”
“The lieutenant hasn’t released you.”
Goose ignored that. He banged on the door. The eye reappeared.
“Get back in your hole, Sarge,” the guard snarled.
“The Syrian army’s coming.” Goose mustered his full voice. “I’m not going to be down here when those troops arrive.”
“Until I get different orders, you’re staying there.”
“Goose,” Miller said, “maybe—”
Goose slammed a shoulder into the door. The cheap lock fractured and fell apart. Propelled by his strength and weight, the door swung out and caught the guard flush, driving him from his feet. The harsh sunlight made Goose wince in pain as he stepped outside.
A second guard pointed his M-4A1 at Goose while the first guard tried to get to his feet. “Take another step and I’m going to shoot you.”
“You or the Syrians,” Goose said. “Either way, I’m not dying down there. Not today.” He pointed at the nearby jeep. “I’m going to walk over there and get my gear. If you feel like you have to shoot, I’ll understand. But just so we’re clear here, I have to get that gear.”
The familiar ratchet of assault rifles charging reached Goose’s ears. Several Rangers surrounded the basement. Goose knew he couldn’t escape them all. But he couldn’t stand idly by either.
“Nobody’s going to shoot you, Goose,” Sergeant Mack Theissen stated. He was in his early thirties and had been in the Rangers since high school. Lean and leather-faced, he’d seen action in Africa, Kosovo, and Afghanistan. “With what we got coming at us, the last place you need to be is out of the action. These boys are about to realize the error of their ways and stand down.” He paused and looked at the soldier holding the rifle on Goose. “Ain’t that right?”
With obvious reluctance, the soldier lowered his weapon. “Sure. Just following orders.”
“I get that, Private,” Theissen said. “Why don’t you and your buddy go follow orders someplace else? The real soldiers here got a job to do.”
The two guards beat a hasty retreat.
Goose crossed to the jeep and got his gear. He strapped on his Kevlar vest, helmet, and sidearm, then picked up the M-4A1 and settled it comfortably in his arms.
“I appreciate what you did, Mack,” Goose said quietly, “but when Remington finds out about it, things might not go so easy on you.”
Theissen grinned. “Yeah, I figured that out all by myself. But this whole invading Syrian force kinda put me off my feed anyway. The captain being mad at me? I can deal with it. I’ll get someone to bring me a deck of cards in the brig and start working on my pension.”
Goose couldn’t help but grin a little. “Thanks.”
“What we got coming at us, we need every able-bodied man.”
“How bad is it?”
“Plenty bad. This is a major effort. They’re hoping to claim some serious real estate today.”
“We’re not in a position to stop them.”
“No. Best we can do is try to get everybody out safe.”
Goose filled his BDUs with extra magazines for the rifle, then strapped on a bandolier. He checked to make certain the water bladder on his LCE was full as the morning heat baked into him.
Antiaircraft guns mounted behind sandbags screamed to life.
Goose glanced at the sky and spotted four fighter jets streaking toward Harran. Missiles jumped from the wings.
“Incoming!”
Men dove for cover wherever they could find it. Many of them faded into the alleys between the buildings.
“Stay away from the windows!” Goose roared as he ran toward a young private who had taken shelter near the closed electronics store next door to the house where he’d been kept captive. “Stay away from the glass!”
The private looked up as Goose closed on him. Goose grabbed the younger man by the sleeve of his BDUs and yanked him to his feet. They ran deeper into the alley.
Theissen picked up Goose’s instruction.
The missiles slammed into the city. Goose hunkered down against a wall away from any loose debris and watched as a Ranger fell from the Ulu Cami mosque’s tower an instant before one of the missiles took out the structure. The moment seemed surreal as the mosque fell in a heap of loose and broken stones before the sound reached him. The other missiles chewed into the city.
Buried in the thunder and noise of the attack, Goose waited and hoped that casualties would be light. But he knew they wouldn’t be.
Cannonfire ripped into the nearby buildings as the jets whipped by overhead. The concussions of the detonations shattered the windows of buildings that weren’t hit. Shards of flying glass turned into daggers and jagged spears ready to pierce the flesh of anyone taking shelter nearby.
Goose got to his feet and readied his rifle. He looked at the men around him. “C’mon. You guys didn’t come all this way to sit this one out, did you?”
Most of the men had been blooded before the Syrian confrontation, but there were a handful who stood up on shaking knees and had ashen faces. Still, they stood, and that was what the Rangers had trained them to do.
The jets flew past the city and began a turning radius.
“Let’s go. Single file and spread out.” Goos
e jogged toward the city’s edge where the front line was going to take shape. That was where he belonged.
Local Time 0636 Hours
Danielle threw herself to the ground beside a small dentist’s office. The Closed sign posted on the door had faded from exposure to the sun.
Gary took cover beside her. His arms wrapped the camera as he sat with his back to the wall. The chin strap on his Kevlar helmet hung loosely, but it reminded Danielle to clap her own back onto her head. She’d grabbed it from the ground when they’d broken for cover.
Machine-gun fire ripped into the buildings and the street. Pockmarks appeared on both. The noise reverberated between the buildings.
“Do we still have satellite feed?” Danielle asked.
Gary looked at her as though she were insane.
Danielle raised her voice. “Can you hear me?”
“I heard you.” Gary glanced at the camera, then nodded. “We still have sat-link.”
“Then let’s get moving.”
Gary pointed at a group of Rangers tucked into shelter across the street. “They’re not going anywhere. I’m taking that as a sign that we probably shouldn’t be going anywhere either.”
“They’re waiting for orders.” Danielle stood and looked up in the sky. The jets had passed again, but they were turning. “We already have our orders. We’ve got to bring this story to the public.”
“I’m thinking maybe the public would understand if we sat here quietly and just spent some time being afraid.”
Danielle reached down and pulled Gary to his feet. “You have just as much chance of getting shot sitting there as you do trying to get somewhere else.”
“It doesn’t feel like it.”
“Trust me.”
“Man, you get me into more trouble. It’s like you’re jinxed.”
“Thanks. But just keep reminding yourself that what we’re doing here might just net you a Pulitzer.” Danielle ran back toward the residential area where Goose was being held. She held on to her flak jacket. Perspiration trickled down her body from the heat.