Synbat v5

by Bob Mayer

  Riley signaled for the team to come in. “Looks like they rested here. They’re less than two hours ahead. Let’s tighten it up a bit. I want to move in an inverted V with Trovinsky at the point. I’ll be his swing man.”

  Riley pointed at Freeman. “You follow right behind me, about ten feet back.”

  Riley was a little nervous about his men having live ammunition. He trusted them, but he also knew from hard experience that it’s just as easy to get killed by friendly fire as enemy. Bullets didn’t care if you were a good guy or a bad guy. Riley was encouraged that eight of the men had seen duty during Operation Desert Storm and knew how to play the game for real.

  Riley addressed the team before starting off again. “Make sure if you shoot that you have a clear field of fire. I don’t want anyone firing on three-round burst. Semi only. I know I probably don’t have to say this, but do not fire across the formation.” He peered around the group. “Any questions? All right. Let’s move out.”

  At that moment a distant chattering in the air grabbed his attention. Shit, Riley thought. Terrible timing. He gestured. “Philips and Carter. Head on back to the stream and follow it to the lake. There should be an open area there. Bring the bird down and then guide the doctor and T-bone up here. On the double.”

  The two men backtracked at a trot. Riley was now down to seven men, eight counting Freeman. He turned to the DIA agent. “You armed, sir?”

  Freeman pulled a snub-nose Colt from under his jacket. Riley was tempted to tell the major to be careful not to shoot himself. He contemplated taking his 9mm automatic from its shoulder holster under his fatigue shirt and giving it to the agent but decided against it. Instead he simply signaled for the team to move out.

  With Trovinsky in the lead, the team broke through the dense undergrowth. The great monkey hunt, Riley thought sarcastically. Riley had worked with some DIA people in Thailand in the early eighties on some so-called intelligence-gathering missions; he didn’t have much respect for the military men in civilian clothes trying to play superspy.

  The DIA was the Pentagon’s pooper-scooper. Too many of the men and women in the DIA came from regular military intelligence circles and, in Riley’s opinion, lacked the flexibility in thinking necessary to conduct intelligence operations. They might be good working a desk, but some were disasters out in the real world. Traditional army mentality didn’t jive with the curvilinear, inductive thinking often required to do good intelligence work. Certainly the DIA must have many good people, but Riley had had the misfortune to work with some of the bad ones.

  The DIA also tended to overemphasize security at the expense of operational necessity. This Freeman fellow wasn’t giving them the whole story, and Riley didn’t like that. Experience had taught him that uninformed people made mistakes.

  Riley diverted his attention from Trovinsky to briefly scan the rest of the team’s positioning. Doc Seay was a comforting presence on his right. Riley could make out Barret, the junior engineer, breaking brush to the right of Seay. On Riley’s left, Knutz was moving solidly through the woods, bulling his way through the undergrowth rather than slipping through as Riley was. Beyond Knutz, out of sight, Sgt. Martie Trustin and SSgt. Lou Caruso finished out the left wing of the wedge.

  Riley turned his attention back to Trovinsky in time to see the man stop abruptly and signal a halt. Riley raised his fist and passed the signal to the rest of the team. He patiently waited as Trovinsky quartered the ground in front, gradually increasing the radius of the search pattern. After ten minutes, Trovinsky turned to Riley.

  “The trail ends here.”

  Riley looked around. “Then where are they?”

  Trovinsky pointed up. “They took to the trees.”

  2:14 P.M.

  The party from the helicopter had tramped up from the beginning of Williams Hollow to the point where the monkeys had gone vertical. Ward seemed very subdued and Riley took an instant dislike to the

  DIA colonel. Lewis’s first comment after Freeman’s quick recount of events was to demand to know why they had stopped looking. Riley decided to step in at that point.

  “Look where, sir? There’s no trail to follow up in the trees, and none of my men are Tarzan qualified. We need to bring in a bunch more bodies if we’re going to sweep this area. Those monkeys could have gone in any direction once they went up.”

  Lewis leveled his hard gaze at Riley. “You have any other brilliant observations to make, mister?”

  Riley held his temper. From behind him, Freeman interceded. “What about thermal imagery from the helicopters?”

  Lewis nodded. “That’s a good idea. I’m sure some of the infantry units at Campbell have thermal sights that we’ll be able to use.”

  Lewis obviously is going to do whatever he wants, Riley thought. He’d be damned if he’d get into an argument with the man. Warrant officers didn’t win many pissing contests with full colonels.

  Lewis made his command decision. “I’m going to have one of those helicopters go back and get some thermals. It’s worth a shot.”

  Trovinsky offered another alternative. “If we could get some search-and-rescue dogs, we might be able to find them.”

  Lewis frowned. “If the monkeys are up in the trees, how can the dogs follow their trail?”

  Trovinsky shook his head. “Not all search-and-rescue dogs are trailing dogs, sir. Some use what’s called winding. We put them downwind of the last known position, which is here, and the dogs do a search pattern until they pick up the scent, and then work upwind to the source. It’s actually a lot quicker than trailing, because the dogs can head straight for the source once they pick up the scent rather than following a winding trail. The Montgomery County Sheriff’s Department over by Clarksville has some dogs trained in that.”

  Freeman threw in his two cents’ worth. “We can call the sheriff’s department and ask for their assistance.”

  Riley could tell that Lewis didn’t like the idea of calling in anyone else. The colonel seemed to be holding an internal debate. Lewis made his decision. He pulled out a Motorola radio from a shoulder holster and keyed the send button. “Search Base, this is Search Six. Over.”

  The radio hissed. “This is Search Base. Over.”

  “Call the DPTM at Fort Campbell and have him get some thermal sights ready for pickup. Then send Jameson back with one of the helicopters to get them. Also, contact the Montgomery County Sheriff’s Department to get us some tracking dogs. Use the other bird to pick them up. Have Gottleib go on that one. I want the thermals brought back to the lab and the dogs brought straight out here. Over.”

  “Roger. What should I tell the sheriff’s department is the reason for the dogs? Over.”

  “The goddamn federal government needs them, that’s why. Out.”

  Chapter Five

  VICINITY LAKE BARKLEY 3:42 P.M.

  While waiting for the dogs to arrive, CWO Dave Riley spent forty-five minutes trying to sort through the day’s events. He was a methodical thinker who scrutinized every aspect of a situation, examining each detail from various perspectives. Then he’d try to reassemble the details so that the entire situation fit together and appeared clearly in his mind’s eye. Except it wasn’t working here.

  Riley could understand the concern about the possibility of a new strain of the VX virus getting loose via these monkeys. But he was puzzled by just about everything else he had seen today. The collars, the security setup at the lab, the vehicle in the parking lot with a retired enlisted sticker, the —

  Riley’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of an inbound Huey. He held his patrol cap in place as the helicopter settled down onto the knee-high grass bordering the terminus of Williams Hollow Creek. The side doors slid open and two county sheriffs hopped off, each one controlling a German shepherd on the end of a short chain. A third man got off, dressed in what Riley assumed to be the DIA’s field uniform of khaki pants and bush jacket over a khaki shirt. The man was armed with an MP-5 submachine gun slung over
his shoulder. The bird lifted and winged back in the direction of the lab.

  After briefly greeting the two law officers, Lewis gave the order for Riley to lead the entire party back to the last ground tracks of the monkeys, where Trovinsky and Caruso were standing by. Riley quickly led the way, his team automatically fanning out on either side of him. The dogs, their handlers, Lewis, Freeman, the third DIA man, and Ward tramped behind in the center.

  Once they reached the tree, the two sheriffs allowed their dogs to spend some time sniffing around the base and along the monkey tracks leading up to the tree. As soon as they got the scent, both dogs immediately started an agitated whining.

  “What’s wrong with them?” Lewis demanded.

  The senior sheriff, identified as Douglas by his nameplate, shook his head as he tried to control his dog. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen them like this. I guess it’s because they’ve never smelled monkey before.”

  “Are they going to be able to do the job?”

  Douglas nodded. “Yeah. They’ll be all right.”

  The two officers spent a few minutes calming their dogs, then both switched the short chain leashes for longer nylon ones.

  “All right. Let’s go,” Douglas called out. “The wind looks good, coming from the west, and the dogs are picking up the scent that way. Just keep your people downwind from us.”

  Riley positioned his men with a few quick hand and arm signals. He followed as the two handlers moved the dogs out in a series of S-shaped movements, always coming back centered on a west-north- westerly heading. Riley pulled out his map as they moved. Another klick and they’d hit Lake Barkley. Nowhere for the monkeys to go then. He glanced around, making sure that his men were spread out and alert.

  Suddenly the left dog halted and started yipping furiously, straining backward on its leash. Riley slid the selector lever on his M16 to semiautomatic and signaled for the rest of the team to stay in place. He moved over to Douglas. “What’s the matter?”

  Now the other dog joined in the same shrill barking. It made the hairs stand up on the back of Riley’s neck.

  Douglas was pulling on the leash. “Don’t know. They’re smelling something they don’t like.” He yanked the dog forward. It slinked along, hackles raised.

  Riley scanned the bushes and trees in the immediate area. He gestured for Caruso and Philips to keep their eyes up in the trees as he moved with Douglas.

  The lead dog stopped, its nose pointed at something dark on the ground. Riley knelt next to it. It took a second for his brain to register what the object was: A few pieces of fur and a skull with tatters of flesh on it identified the carcass as that of a rabbit.

  A few feet away lay some dark lumps. Riley recognized them and signaled for Trovinsky to come forward. “That look the same as the last pile you found?”

  Trovinsky knelt down next to the feces. “Yeah. Same color and texture.” He stood up and tapped them with his boot. “About two to four hours old, I’d say.”

  “What do you make of the carcass?”

  Trovinsky reached forward to poke it with his finger.

  “I wouldn’t do that,” Riley advised. “Remember that if those monkeys ate this thing and they’re carrying the virus, their saliva might be on the body.”

  Trovinsky quickly pulled away his hand. He slid out his knife and poked with it. “Guess around two to four hours, like I said. Maybe more. Hard to tell. The body — what’s left of it — looks cold. The blood is pretty dry.”

  Riley looked around. Lewis, Freeman, and Ward, along with the other DIA agent, were clustered behind the team’s skirmish line. The three DIA men had their weapons drawn and were looking around a little nervously. Seemed a bit of an overreaction to Riley He noticed that Lewis had a massive .44 magnum revolver for his personal weapon; the new DIA man had the MP-5 in the ready position. Hell of a lot of firepower for a few monkeys.

  Riley turned his attention back to Douglas and nodded toward the dogs. “They always get like this over a dead rabbit?”

  Douglas shook his head and looked at his partner, Sheriff Lamb. “Pete, you ever seen these dogs act this way? They acted funny when they first got the scent.”

  Lamb spit out a wad of tobacco. “Only time I seen Jake get stupid like this is when we ran across some panther tracks up in the Smokies last summer.”

  Riley considered it. “Think it’s just like you said earlier — they’ve never smelled a monkey before?”

  Douglas shrugged. “Could be. Don’t know.” He jerked the chain. “Come on, Caesar. Let’s get going.”

  Lamb shook his head. Riley overheard him mutter to himself, “I’d say it’s cause they’re scared shitless.” The sheriff forced his dog forward.

  Riley walked back to Ward. “We’ve got more feces and the body of a rabbit that looks like it’s been stripped clean of almost all the meat. I didn’t know monkeys ate meat.”

  Ward glanced about nervously. “Monkeys are omnivorous. They eat whatever they can get.”

  “You all probably want to scoop up that body to make sure that none of your virus is in it,” suggested Riley. “Wouldn’t do to have some other animal feed on it.”

  Ward and Freeman put on surgical gloves and delicately placed the remains in a large freezer bag, then put the bag into Freeman’s backpack. Once they were done, Riley gave the signal to move out again.

  They crossed an old dirt road and started heading downhill. According to the map, Riley could see that they were within a hundred meters of the lake. Through the trees he could make out small patches of sparkling light as the sun briefly broke through the heavy clouds and reflected off the water. He signaled for his team to tighten up the formation.

  With a final plunge, the dogs were out of the tree line and standing on the thin grass strip that bordered the lake. Both dogs were poised in the same position: nose up, leaning forward, pointing straight at the lake.

  The men assembled on the bank and collectively looked at Doctor Ward. Knutz voiced the thought they all seemed to have: “I thought you said they couldn’t swim.”

  Ward seemed preoccupied, staring across the dark water at the far bank, almost a kilometer and a half away. “They can’t. At least I didn’t think so. We never tested them on swimming. There’s no way they could have made it over there by themselves, though.”

  “Well, where are they then?” Lewis demanded.

  Riley went into his slow and steady thought mode. He wondered what Ward meant by never having “tested” the monkeys on swimming. “All right,” Riley announced. “Everyone just back up off the shoreline. Trovinsky, I want you to take a look along the bank and see if you can find where they went in the water. If the dogs are smelling them across the water from here, they must have gone in either here or maybe somewhere upstream.”

  Riley eyed the shimmering surface of the water. Lake Barkley was actually a dammed-up portion of the Cumberland River. The water didn’t appear to be flowing in either direction, but from looking at the map, he could see that the Cumberland ran into the Tennessee River, which meant that the water in the lake was flowing from left to right.

  Riley gestured at Seay. “Doc, you and Caruso head down that way along the bank and see if you spot anything.”

  As Riley waited for Trovinsky and the others to finish their search, he noticed the DIA men having another heated discussion with Doctor Ward. This is getting more and more curious, Riley thought. His reverie was interrupted by Doc Seay’s call.

  Riley jogged the thirty meters to where Seay and Caruso were standing.

  “Check this out, chief.”

  Riley followed Doc’s finger. Someone or something had pulled a log off the bank into the water. The indent where the log had laid was clear, as were the drag marks leading down into the water. Tracks identical to the ones they had followed up to the tree were clearly impressed in the mud.

  “Pretty fucking smart monkeys,” Caruso muttered.

  “You know what they say,” Doc Seay offered. “Lock fi
fty monkeys in a room with fifty typewriters for fifty years and sooner or later one of them will write a play by Shakespeare.”

  Riley shook his head. First the collars and now this. “Yeah, well it’s been only twelve hours and we have only four monkeys. Let’s see what the brain trust over there has to suggest now.”

  Little goodwill was evident between Colonel Lewis and Doctor Ward. The two stood, separated from the others, staring out over the water. Lewis’s radio beeped and he removed it from his belt. “Search Six. Over.”

  “This is Search One. We’ve recovered the guard’s body. We’ve also got a survivor from the attack at the lab. Kentucky State Police found them both in a van south of our location about three hours ago. A captain from the state police showed up here a half hour ago wanting to know what’s going on. I took over both the woman and the body but they’re plenty pissed at the secrecy. Over.”

  Lewis gripped the radio tightly. “Do the locals have any idea what happened? Over.”

  “Negative. The woman’s in shock and out of it. Hasn’t said a word. I told them she must have been with the escaped convicts and that they ransacked the lab here and must have taken the guard’s body with them. I suggested that the guard getting killed in front of her is what put her into shock. I also told them we had nothing more here that could help them and that the facility was classified so they couldn’t enter. I think they’re satisfied that the convicts have moved on and left the woman behind. Over.”

  Lewis relaxed slightly. “All right. Find out from the woman what happened. You know how to do that. I’ll get back to you when I figure out what’s going on out here. Call me immediately if any more locals show up. Out.”

  Lewis slipped the radio back into his belt and looked at Ward. “Our cover is barely holding. If the Synbats are in this area, they’re relatively isolated. We need to get back to the lab and get reorganized.”

  Chapter Six

  LAND BETWEEN THE LAKES