The Hades Facility: 'In the darkest depths, lay your darkest fears...' (The Prometheus Series Book 1)

by Oliver Tuson

  The helicopter suddenly pitched to the side causing him lurch forward. The well-trained RAF pilot of the Chinook had no doubt pitched the aircraft in an attempt to miss a group of opportunistic fighters firing up into the night sky trying to hit the huge flying target as it travelled fast over their heads. That was the danger of flying low, Clarke thought to himself as he readjusted his position on the helicopter’s bench, they were safe from surface to air missiles as they can't lock on to the aircraft, but susceptible to small arms fire and RPGs coming up from the insurgents below. And there were still many of them, littered throughout the huge city. And more arriving daily to fight their fight against the coalition invaders. Baghdad was slowly becoming a place to fight the western world without leaving the east. And Clarke grimly thought the situation in Iraq would get a whole lot worse before it got any better.

  “Right there! You see the rifle flares!” Opposite Clarke sat two members of his bravo team. Corporal Toby Hawkins was pointing out the small oval windows whilst elbowing Sanchez in the side, encouraging him to look at the spectacle below. Hawkins was the youngest member of his team at twenty-seven. And by far the most enthusiastic solider Clarke had ever met. Even at his relatively young age, he had already been a solider for over ten years. Joining the army’s elite Parachute Regiment at sixteen and making it to special forces by twenty-four. But over those ten years he had never lost his excitement for the job. Which deep down, although he never admitted it, Clarke was pleased to see.

  In contrast, Sargent Gordon Sanchez was the opposite. The oldest in his team at thirty-nine. His short jet-black hair now peppered with grey throughout that continued through his well-maintained beard. His attitude was always calm and composed. Taking every day, every operation in his stride with apparent ease. The muscular scotsman had grown up in a small village in the rocky landscape of eastern Scotland, spending many weekends hiking around the Lochs and up mountains for pleasure.

  The half scotsman, half spaniard was an interesting man. He once told Clarke how his mother had met a solider from the Spanish marines who were on exercise with the British commandos based in Arbroath, close to her home village. It was love at first sight and Sanchez was born nine months later. Although the love didn’t last long and his father disappeared back to Spain shortly after his third birthday. Sanchez didn’t see his father much after that, but he did follow in his footsteps. He had joined the Royal Marines Commandos at an early age and spent most of his time based at 45 Commando in Arbroath before joining special forces.

  “You see that old man?” Hawkins excitedly asked again over the whining of the engines. “That was the closest yet!” Sanchez shrugged his wide shoulders in response as he replied.

  “Unfortunately, not close enough, they haven’t hit you yet Hawks!” He smiled to take some of the sting away whilst looking at the younger solider.

  Clarke couldn’t work out how these two opposites were best of friends. Since he arrived, the two were inseparable. Always together. One joking too much and one too serious most of the time. It was good see and made Clarkes job as team leader a little easier. Clarke, also being a former Royal Marine from 42 Commando before joining special forces had bonded quickly with Sanchez. Not only with their similar military backgrounds, but with Sanchez’s laid-back attitude and mature nature, along with the fact he didn’t ask a thousand questions about the past made him likeable and easy company for Clarke.

  Hawkins, on the other hand, Clarke had no idea where he was with the energetic young man. He remembered back to the first week he arrived in Iraq and the three of them sat sharing a beer in the cool evening. The heat of the day was finally disappearing as they relaxed on the rooftop of their building overlooking the Baghdad skyline whilst the blood red sun was setting. It was a peaceful sight in the otherwise violent city. Somewhere close by, chefs were cooking a traditional dish. The smell of rich spices and meat reaching up to the relaxing men, now making them think of food as they opened another bottle of beer each. The conversation had moved on from the usual small talk and led to Hawkins innocently asking about the job Clarke had done before joining TF64.

  However, Clarke didn’t want to talk about it, still trying to forget about his past and find closure from the pain that still haunted him. He gave the young man a quick dismissive response and tried to move the conversation on. But Hawkins just kept asking questions. Almost as if he knew something about Clarke’s previous life and wouldn’t let it go. Hawkins couldn’t, or wouldn’t pick up on Clarke’s silence and attempts to change the direction but instead enthusiastically pressed on with his questions, recklessly prying into the team leader’s history.

  In the end Clarke lost his patience and ordered him to shut up and go away, his temper getting the better of him for a split second and instantly regretting it. As Hawkins walked off, clearly taken back by Clarke’s sudden outburst, Sanchez leaned across the table whilst putting his half empty beer bottle down. “Don’t worry boss, I’ll check on the kid and smooth it over.” The scotsman got up to leave then stopped and looked down at Clarke. “You ever want to talk though, I’m here boss…”

  With that he went after Hawkins. Clarke watched as Sanchez caught up with him whilst placing a hand on his shoulder. He could just make out the younger solider speaking. “You know he got them killed… his old team…” Hawkins’ voice trailed off as they disappeared around the corner leaving Clarke watching the last part of the red sun drop from view behind the city’s buildings. With darkness now falling over the city, he sat in silence still clutching his beer and thinking of the past he couldn’t escape. Even on the other side of the world he was still tormented by it.

  “Two minutes out!” The helicopter’s load master stated over the aircraft’s intercom system bringing Clarke back from thoughts of the past. Across from him, Hawkins’ face lit up as he thought of the approaching assault. The two friends started a final check of their weapons and equipment. Checking the pouches on their assault vests were secure. Helmets on tight. M4 assault rifles prepped and ready for action. Professionals, Clarke thought to himself with a certain pride.

  Beside him the fourth member of bravo team, Corporal Christopher Jasper, started to check his kit too. Clarke had grown fond of Jasper over the past three months, finding him to always be professional and always keen to do his job to the best of his ability. Jasper had a certain personal standard that he was always trying to improve on. Self-motivated and only in competition with his own goals. He kept himself to himself, preferring the company of computers and gadgets.

  Before joining the military, he had been a computer science graduate and landed a job with a high-tech computer company. He was making good money and set for a successful career that would take him places. But then disaster struck. His younger brother was killed in a terrorist attack whilst on holiday abroad. Soon after, Jasper joined the military, completely changing his life forever.

  Clarke had tried to speak with the quiet solider about it once, but Jasper didn’t really say much. Almost seeing it as irrelevant to anything to do with their mission in Iraq. “Let's just stay focused on the now, please captain.” He had told Clarke as he moved the conversation on to recent events in the Green Zone. Maybe that's why Clarke warmed to him so much. No talking about the past. Although, deep down, Clarke still wondered if Jasper had joined for his younger brother's revenge, or to help make the world safer. Maybe the two went hand in hand Clarke thought as he made a mental note to try to get to know the man better.

  Clarke followed the lead of his bravo team and started to check his own kit whilst thinking over the mission briefing. A few hours earlier most of the members of TF64 were gathered in a large briefing room with the air conditioning taking the edge off a long hot evening in Iraq’s Green Zone. Clarke looked around the group of people, all talking quietly about recent operations. Looking across the room and through the glass wall separating the briefing room from the operations room, he got his usual feeling of being a spare part. He felt second to all th
e modern technology. The endless feeds from the drones, cameras and data records that were all patched to work stations. All of which were manned by the highly trained intelligence analysts and various tech guys that all worked around the clock gathering and processing information towards the task force’s goal of hunting the weapons of mass destruction. The WMDs which so far, had remained elusive.

  Clarke and the rest of bravo team had spent most of the afternoon and evening sleeping after a series of night surveillance operations of potential targets deep in the south of the city. However, after many hours of work, the targets had been deemed irrelevant. Another dead end for the hunt, Clarke had thought as he had climbed into his cot bed late that morning. He had fallen into a deep sleep within minutes only to be thrown into a series of nightmares from his past.

  He was almost grateful when of the new analysts had woken him up and excitedly told him about new intelligence just coming in and to get himself up to the briefing room where he now sat quietly, still waking up with a large coffee whilst the rest of the people continued to mumble quietly.

  Clarke noticed that the four members from alpha team were not in the room. Only bravo and charlie teams. He wondered where they were as he looked towards his own men. He could see Jasper through the glass wall where the young solider was still in the operations room, excitedly talking to one of the drone pilots, both men deeply staring at the drone’s monitor display. Jasper was no doubt demonstrating his love of technology and gadgets to the operator, who seemed equally as excited.

  Hawkins and Sanchez were sat close to Clarke. Both men talking about the recent surveillance missions they had done. Hawkins saying all too loudly that it had been a dead end and that the analysts should do more research before wasting anymore of bravo’s time again. That got a few looks from some of the nearby intelligence workers. Clarke took another swig of strong coffee and was about to say something to Hawkins when the director of TF64 entered the room from the operations door. Jasper and a few other analysts followed her in and quickly sat in any spare seats they could find before she started her briefing.

  “Good evening ladies and gentleman.” She began in her managerial voice that seemed to capture people's attention with ease. “At last we might have a solid lead…” Clarke could sense Hawkins about to say something sarcastic and shot him a look. The young man raised his eyebrows in mock surprise at his team leader before looking back to the director.

  “We have intercepted a lot communication chatter and intelligence sources about this man.” She pointed to the briefing board on the wall where a projector now displayed the image of a middle aged, dark skinned man. “Doctor Mohamed Ahmed.” She pressed a button on the remote in her hand and the images changed to various pictures of the man in different weapon facilities and laboratories.

  “Doctor Ahmed is thought to be a nuclear weapons specialist for the old regime. He has been off the grid for a few years, but we do know he is still active in weapons programmes.” She let that sink in for a few seconds before continuing. “The doctor appeared back on our radar a few days ago, about we were unable to track his location. Or at least until now…” She gestured towards the operations room, where a few people still remained working at terminals and workstations.

  “Communications that our analysts have intercepted have tracked him down over the past few hours and finally put his location in the northern outskirts of the city right now.” A press of the button and the image showed a satellite picture of a large cross roads in a rundown part of the city. She tapped the side of the road where a three-story building stood, dominating the rest of the rundown houses.

  “I've already dispatched alpha team to run surveillance on the building and confirm target identity.” She looked about at the faces of the task force before offering them the best chance of finding the WMDs since they landed in the country. “As of twenty minutes ago, alpha team confirmed his identity and the presence of six other males of fighting age. Probably bodyguards.”

  The group started to murmur at the solid lead they had finally be given. The voices growing louder as separate discussions broke out around the room. “Thank you!” The director shouted over the growing conversations, bringing the room back to near silence. “This is solid intel people, and due to the lack of any discovery of weapons to date, command have authorised a capture mission to be launched immediately.”

  All of bravo team nodded at each other as they acknowledged the task that was about to unfold before them whilst the director continued to cover a few finer points of the information before moving on to the mission plan to capture Doctor Ahmed. The director pulled up a more detailed view of the area and target building.

  “Alpha team are currently in an observation point here…” She pointed to a derelict house opposite the target building that was crumpling at the edges and in need of repair. “Charlie team will will rendezvous with alpha and secure the perimeter of the building.” She drew an invisible circle around the image with her finger. “No one in or out. Complete lockdown.”

  She nodded towards Clarke. “Bravo, you have the pleasure of being the assault team. You will make entry through this door on the roof of the target building via CH-47 fast-rope.” The image changed to a close up of the roof. An open plan, flat area with railings running around it. A few tables and chairs were sat unused in one corner collecting dust.

  “You will then assault down through the building and capture the target. Once secure, the Chinook will extract you from the crossroads and get you all back to the Green Zone.”

  Clarke thought it through. They had run missions like this many times over the years and all the teams were well trained in the process. A simple assault and capture. He unconsciously nodded his agreement towards the director, who gave a slight nod in return.

  As she went over the rules of engagement and finer details of the mission briefing for the benefit of the whole task force, Clarke found his mind starting to wonder towards the safety of his team. Back to the promise he made himself in England as he watched the flag flying at half-mast. The promise to never lose a team member again. That promise suddenly felt much heavier as he looked at the three men under his command sat near him. With the burden of their lives starting to make him slightly anxious, his mind began to wander back to his past and failures until his thoughts were shattered as the director finished up her briefing.

  “Helicopter is fuelling as we speak gentleman… stay safe and bring us back the proof we need!” And with that Clarke and his team were soon sat onboard the CH-47 prepping their weapons and equipment, flying low and fast towards the impending assault.

  3

  HVT

  03:45, 15th August 2003

  Observation Point, Northern Baghdad, Iraq

  The cold of the open night sky was beginning to seep into Captain Richard Millerchip’s body as he put down the binoculars and checked his G-Shock watch. Not long to go now he thought, growing tired of the chill and wanting to get moving. Alpha team had been holed up in the rundown deserted house opposite the target building for a while now. Nothing to do but wait, he thought as he picked up the binoculars again, and looked back at the building. A full moon was out, casting bright moonlight down onto the crossroads and building as he continued to watch and wait.

  The three-story target was standard to most of the buildings in this part of Baghdad. A simple low-level wall ran its perimeter and black iron gates blocked a small driveway with a few old cars parked on it. The building itself was light coloured stone that kept the heat out during the hot days, but was flaking away in places through neglect. Millerchip imagined it was once the pride and joy of a rich family. Well maintained and full of life and colour. Green trees and bright flowers running the perimeter wall. He briefly imagined his own family loving to live in it, if it was back home and not in this war-torn country. His young children playing around the perimeter with their dog whilst his wife sunbathed on the roof terrace. He shook the thoughts of home away, keeping his mind on the
job.

  Either way, the building’s neglected shell made him wonder what happened to its real owners. Did they fall foul of the old regime? Had they sensed the war coming and moved on? He trained the binoculars around the building as his thoughts played in his head until he froze on the second-floor window. His heart suddenly racing. The target was stood there, looking directly out of the window at him. Doctor Mohamed Ahmed. The nuclear weapons specialist was staring straight at the alpha team leader. Millerchip could feel his gaze burning into him.

  But he knew Ahmed couldn’t see him. Could he? Millerchip was in the back of the room, laying prone behind rubble that provided good cover and concealment. No lights or any other evidence that could betray alpha team’s presence.

  Even though he knew that he was as good as invisible, his stomach still turned a little at the thought of being watched by the man until a moment later Ahmed moved away from the window and Millerchip let out a deep breath as he relaxed again. “Close one boss,” Frost said from beside him with a slight grin. The two men chuckled lightly as they continued to lay on the cold stone floor and watch the building for any further movement.

  Millerchip’s earpiece suddenly came to life. “Hello Hunter Alpha this is Hunter Charlie, we are sixty seconds out, over.” The Charlie team leader’s voice confirmed their imminent arrival and that it was almost time to move.

  “Roger, sixty seconds. Still no movement in or out of target building. Out.” Millerchip replied in a whispered voice over the radio. He gave Frost a nudge and gestured for him to get ready. The solider carefully crawled backwards and disappeared to tell the other two members of the team to prepare and be ready. The sixty seconds felt more like an hour as Millerchip waited alone in the cold, eagerly wanting to get up and move on with the mission.