by Russ Snyder
They were just behind the tree line observing the cabin on their end. He motioned for her to take out the guard on the roof closest to them while he zeroed in on the second at the other end of the small complex. She moved off slightly to the right for a better sight line. She took up her position, lowered her rifle, and nodded that she was ready. Styles motioned back, In three.
Both took aim, and three seconds later, two rifles spat out two barely audible rounds that penetrated one guard in the center of his forehead, while the second entered just in front of an ear. The action of the weapons reloading was the only noise actually heard. The two men crumpled silently.
Styles nodded approvingly at Phillips and directed her to start at the first cabin while he took the second. He had decided that each taking a cabin would reduce the time factor, with the added benefit of demonstrating to Phillips his faith in her. They advanced on the complex. Taking care, they reached the first two doors and simultaneously entered. Styles's was empty, but he heard a slight thud next door. Ten seconds later, he was back outside and watched Phillips exit. She nodded. Slowly they made their way to the next two cabins. There were men in each, one in Phillips's and two in Styles's. In three seconds, those men were down, and as before, a quick search of the bathroom and bedroom revealed the cabins were clear.
Back outside, they made their way to the fifth cabin. Several voices could be heard inside. Styles motioned that he would go in first, with Phillips right behind. They entered as virtually one and found four men sitting around the kitchen table playing cards. They looked up and with surprise on their faces were all shot in the middle of their heads. The remaining cabins were empty. Checking the back, they regrouped as they heard voices coming from the front. They were talking excitedly.
"Sounds like reinforcements," whispered Styles.
"Yeah. The loudest one is throwing a fit about not seeing the guards on the roof."
"Let's go."
They quickly made their way back around one end of the cabins and came face-to-face with two guards heading for the ladder that led to the roof. The two groups saw each other at the same instant. Styles was faster. From his hip, he shot both men in the chest. He heard Phillips shoot twice and saw both men's heads jerk hard.
They scurried to the front corner and looked around carefully. One man was close to the other end of the cabins, while the second man was just entering one.
"I'll take the far guy; you watch that door," Styles directed.
Styles took aim and shot the far guard right between the shoulder blades. He put two more rounds in him to be sure. He simultaneously heard a screen door open, and Phillips's AR spat twice, sending that guard bouncing off the doorjamb and falling back inside.
"Make sure he's dead," Styles instructed.
As Phillips headed for the cabin door, Styles took up position in front of a truck. No one else appeared.
Rejoining him, Phillips confirmed he was down.
"That clears this. We'll hit the roof and prop the guards in position. Then we secure the house. Remember, you hold up outside and keep watch. Don't come in until I signal you. If anyone should approach, warn me; I don't want a body lying outside if we can help it."
Phillips nodded. Ten minutes later after skirting the trees, they were at the main house. Phillips veered off, found a good spot, and set up to monitor everything. Once she was out of sight, Styles looked and saw two more guards outside of the house. Both had arms at the ready. Five feet behind the tree line, he took aim and center punched each man in the middle of his forehead. Quickly, he crossed the drive and dragged each man around to the side of the house, depositing the bodies behind shrubbery. Then he carefully approached the front door. He hugged the wall, hoping it would keep him out of sight from the security cameras. He got to the door undetected. He turned the knob and found it to be unlocked, which surprised him. He eased it opened and looked in. No one in sight, and no sounds could be heard. He opened it slightly farther, slipped inside, and silently closed it behind him. He immediately crouched down and surveyed the room. It was a massive entrance hallway decorated in lavish silk hanging from the ceilings and opulent Middle Eastern furnishings that continued into the massive living room.
Staying tight against the wall, he slowly made his way through the massive chamber. He could now vaguely hear what sounded like two voices coming through one of the several doorways that led from the rear of the room. He scanned for any cameras and saw none. He made his way toward the sounds. The door to the room that the conversation was being held was partially open, allowing Styles to observe it was a conference room. Two men were inside and appeared to be disagreeing about something. Styles listened for a few moments and discerned that it was about the decadent behavior of Westerners. Inwardly, he shook his head. He'd already decided that Ryyaki Ali was not one of them. He opened the door slightly with his silenced gun barrel and shot both men dead center in their chests, hoping that would keep them in their chairs. One did, but one fell. Styles quickly entered the conference room and hid behind the door. Thirty seconds passed, yet no one else approached.
Cautiously, he continued his search, closing the door behind him so the two bodies would not easily be seen by anyone just walking past. Three minutes later, he was convinced no one else was on the main floor. Quickly, he ascended the stairs and checked out the second floor, which consisted of bedrooms and bathrooms and two sitting rooms. All were empty. Just as quickly, he descended the stairs and searched the main floor again. No one. This is odd. Only one way left to go---down. He found the stairway leading below and started down. A shadow alerted him, and he ducked just as one of Ali's guards had attempted to jump him from behind. A knife blade had missed him by inches. Whirling, Styles saw the man in front of him was not wearing any shoes. No wonder he was so damn quiet. The man was looking at Styles with a maniacal grin. He tried two front thrusts with the blade at Styles's chest and neck. Styles blocked both attempts with his AR. The guard changed grips on his knife, and in the instant he brought his arm back to try a sweep thrust, Styles brought the butt of his rifle straight out and caught the man in the throat. He dropped the knife and immediately clutched his throat. Styles knew the man was done; he'd crushed the larynx, leaving the man powerless to breathe. Slowly, he slumped to the floor against the wall.
With rifle at the ready, Styles did two 360-degree sweeps. He was expecting men to come pouring out like ants, yet no one came. Weird.
He could faintly hear voices, so he crouched and continued downward. Reaching the bottom of the staircase, he followed the sounds, which led him to a large office. Three men were inside, one large man sitting behind a huge desk, and two others sitting on a sofa just to the right of the desk. Immediately, he knew who Ryyaki Ali was. He paused, listening. They were openly toasting the death of the American president. Styles could feel his blood beginning to boil. He opened the door and shot both men on the sofa directly in the center of their foreheads. He advanced on Ali with the barrel of his gun staring him in the eyes. No words were spoken. Styles walked around the desk while Ali turned to face him. There was no fear in Ali's eyes; if anything, there was contempt. Styles looked down at the three-hundred-pound man sitting in front of him and then hit him with the butt of his rifle in the forehead, stunning him but not seriously injuring him. He clicked his comm set to alert Phillips.
"Come inside; go through the main room and down the hall to the stairs. Go down. Meet me in the office."
"Affirmative."
T-Minus 5.5 Hours
Robert Randall, the CIA response team leader, stormed into the motel room his men were using as their staging area.
He looked around at his squad and said, "Gear up, boys. We're heading out. Bring the AK-47s."
Second in command Pete Locker asked, "We got the go-ahead?"
"Yeah, I just gave it to you."
He looked at the other two men and stated, "You heard the man. W
e leave in ten." Turning to Randall, he asked, "We hooking up with Jonesy?" He was referring to the man already on-site in the woods outside the suspected terrorist's property.
"He's waiting for us."
Six minutes later, the four men---each carrying an extra-large black duffel bag---climbed into a black Chevrolet Suburban. With Locker driving, Randall issued instructions.
"Jonesy has reconned the area and given me the layout. We're going to hit the cabins first and then the main house. No prisoners. I expect to find that bioagent at the house, but if it's not there, we beat where it is and how we find it out of whoever. We don't have time to waste here, so we go in fast and hard."
No one else said anything.
Half an hour later, they met up with Jonesy. "You boys ready for a walk in the woods?" he asked jokingly. He was the only one in the group who had what might be considered a sense of humor. It drove Randall nuts, but Jonesy was as good a recon man as he'd seen.
"Of course; that's why we brought a picnic," Randall snarled at him.
"Quite thoughtful. Okay, time to play follow the leader. We're going to circle around and come in on the far side. That's the safest way in."
"Is it the fastest?" Randall demanded.
"No, but it's the quietest and least guarded. It's only about fifteen minutes longer, and I've got the route well cleared. It's quiet, pine needles. Jeez, boss, calm down; you'll get to shoot somebody pretty quick."
"You don't get us there in time, it'll be you."
"We'll get there quicker if you stop bitching."
Randall took a step toward him, but Jonesy was already leading the way into the woods. Five figures, all dressed in black, disappeared into the trees.
30
Starr had no problem picking up Rijah Ellhad, noticing as he pulled in behind him that he had an attractive woman accompanying him. Starr drifted back approximately half a mile, where he could still keep the vehicle in sight.
Ten minutes later, Ellhad pulled into an RV rental site. The woman stayed in the truck while Ellhad went inside the office.
Starr decided now was his chance. He pulled up his silver sedan over near another rental RV unit. He got out and looked it over. Then with a GPS transmitter in his hand, he walked toward the office. He approached the rear of Ellhad's rental unit from the driver's side. He easily planted the tracker up under the wheel well of the rented RV unit and then walked on toward the office. He opened the door, and seeing the staff member busy with Ellhad, he excused himself and said he would return.
Ten minutes later, Ellhad reemerged and returned to his truck. After a short discussion with his companion, Ellhad pulled his truck over next to a larger GMC dually truck, already hooked to a nice tow-behind RV. They got out, and Ellhad unlocked the dually. Returning to his truck, he started to transfer his gear from one truck to the other. Several suitcases, three large duffel bags, and a couple of boxes were taken directly into the RV. Finally, Starr, who had parked across the street, saw Ellhad lock his own truck, climb into the cab of the dually, and pull back out onto the road. Starr again fell in behind him. He knew that he would be harder to spot with Ellhad towing the large camper.
Ellhad turned to Sahleea and said, "We are on our way to Lake Mead. It was a surprise that Ryyaki Ali let us go alone."
"Yes, I am surprised, as well, but I'm not complaining."
She took Ellhad's hand and placed it on her leg, high under her skirt, giving him a playful smile. "Do you know what I am thinking?"
"Yes, but you must continue to think. We have to get to Lake Mead before dark."
Pouting, she said, "You always seem to be in a hurry."
He glanced over at her. "Not when I am with you."
"No, not then. That makes me happy. How long will it take for us to get there?"
"To where we are going, maybe ten hours," he lied.
"That is a long ride, Rijah."
"You will get a longer ride once we arrive."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
T-Minus 5 Hours
Phillips walked into the office of Ryyaki Ali to find him bound to a chair. She noticed a large red welt in the middle of his forehead. She paid little attention to the two bodies on the couch.
She approached Styles, who was sitting on the edge of Ali's desk.
"We ready to go?" he asked.
"Yeah. Let me plug this into his computer." She inserted a flash drive and portable hard drive. Without a word, she withdrew and opened a small leather case. Inside were four vials and a syringe.
Styles leaned down close to Ali and stared him right in his eyes. "I'm going to ask you some questions, and you're going to answer them. If this goes smoothly, you will only die. If it doesn't, I'll castrate your worthless ass, and you won't have any fun with your virgins. Understand?" Without waiting for a reply, he nodded at Phillips.
She took two of the vials from the case and put equal amounts of each into the syringe. Without a word, she raised the sleeve of Ali's long robe, found a vein, and inserted the needle. Within seconds, Ali's eyes began to glaze slightly. "Give him a few more seconds."
"Where is the bioagent you tested in Alaska?" Styles asked. He received only a mumble in return. Styles slapped his cheeks firmly. "Think. Where is that bioagent? Where are you going to release it?"
Once again, only a mumble emerged from Ali.
"Hold up a second," said Phillips. She retrieved the same two vials and added a smaller portion to the syringe. Then she pulled a third from the bag. "This is Adrenalin. It'll wake him up, whether he wants to or not." For the second time, she inserted the needle into Ali's vein. Ali's eyes immediately changed. The glazed look was gone and was replaced by a look of fearful confusion. "He should be more cooperative now."
"Where is the toxin? Where are you going to place it?"
Fighting, Ali answered, "Ell ... Ellhad." He was fighting hard against the drugs.
Styles slapped him again. "Where are you placing that bioagent? I won't ask you again." Styles allowed Ali to focus on the knife he was holding in front of his eyes.
As hard as he tried, Ali could not stop from answering. "Meeaad. La Meeed."
"Lake Mead!" Phillips exclaimed.
Styles continued, "Were you responsible for the killing of the president?"
Ali visibly squirmed, fighting even harder against the drugs.
Styles pressed harder. "Did you kill the president?"
"Al-Hadid. Nazir al-Hadid," Ali stammered.
"Is he Ami al-Hadid's brother?"
Ali only barely nodded.
Purely on instinct, Styles whirled the man around in his chair and furiously drove the blade of his knife into the left eye of Ryyaki Ali, twisting it upward. He did it forgetting Phillips was only five feet away. "Rot in hell, you son of a bitch!" Styles snarled at the man. He turned and saw Phillips looking at him. "Sorry you saw that."
"Why?" she answered. "I only wish I did it. The brother of the man we killed murdered our president."
Styles noticed she'd said we.
Phillips walked up to Styles and stated, "This is a war, isn't it?"
"Yes, it is." He clicked his comm set. "Target is Lake Mead; we don't know exactly where. Starr, you still got him?"
"Sure do."
"Do not lose him. He's definitely got the agent."
"Don't worry. He's not getting away."
Five figures, dressed in black, assembled just behind the tree line at the center of the small complex of cabins. They carefully observed their targets with binoculars for two minutes.
Locker whispered to the team leader, Randall, "I only see two guards on the roof," receiving a nod in return. Without being told, he screwed a retrofitted silencer on the end of his AK-47 and began making his way inside the tree line to a point where he had a clear shot at both guards. Two barely audible s
ounds were heard, and Randall saw both guards slump.
Within two minutes, his team converged on the cabins from each end. It took little time to ascertain all occupants were dead. The squad convened in the front of the small complex.
"Boss, everybody's dead," Locker informed Randall.
"I can fucking see that. So who the hell killed them? We're the only team here."
"Apparently not." Locker regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. The look he received from Randall scared him. "Sorry."
"Let's get to the main house. Double-time at the tree line." Randall led his team at a fast pace toward the house, the rear man constantly keeping watch to the rear. All five were armed with Russian AK-47 full assault rifles, taken off the Taliban, which fired the distinctive 7.62×39-millimeter round. This was Randall's strategy whenever he operated within the boundaries of the United States. Any brass casings that might be found at a scene of a firefight would draw suspicion toward radical Islamists, he reasoned. They also carried Glock nine-millimeter semiautomatic pistols strapped to their sides, which were becoming widely accepted around the world.
Phillips was just about to step out the office door when she whistled for Styles.