I couldn’t help but smile as she covered her hair with a backwards baseball cap and painted her face with a stick of black camo chalk. She went light with the chalk in areas that produced natural shadows like her eye sockets, and darker in places that reflect light, like her cheeks and forehead. Good training, and I had to admit the hat was rather fetching on her.
“What?” She asked, noticing my attention. “Does it work?”
She started performing poses with the hat and made goofy facial expressions as she modeled it for me.
I laughed. “It looks good. You may pass for a sniper yet.”
“Ha. You know, we never got around to finding out who’s the better shot. When we get back. You and me. On the range. Maybe then you’ll put your money where your mouth is.”
Her banter was calming and the playful infliction took all the sting out of her comments as she handed me the chalk.
“You’re on, sister,” I shot back.
As I took off my re-breather gear, Santino surfaced just off the starboard side.
“Hey! Quit smooching and help me up.”
***
Once the entire team was aboard and our combat gear was ready to go, Bordeaux activated the engine and we sped away quietly.
It was only during these few minutes before things got interesting that I started to worry. It wasn’t that I was afraid, just that I thought too much. People do it all the time. I can remember nights before a big test back in college where I would spend hours awake, trying to process the information, only to end up confusing myself even more by morning. Same thing applies here, only if I second guess myself now, I could not only get myself, but my entire team killed.
I glanced up at the moon, thankfully only a quarter full and dim, and wondered why I really transferred my service. I’d just settled into my command as a SEAL team leader, and was working with some of the finest operators on the planet. My team and I had been deployed to Iran, Mexico, Siberia, Pakistan, North Korea, Africa, Azerbaijan and countless other countries, and each time I had made it out alive, and relatively unscathed. Except for Korea, of course. I’d had some of the most qualified men at my side to thank for that, and I remembered too many close calls that could have ended in my death if not for them. So why, only a few months later, am I sitting in this boat with two Brits, an aging priest, a beautiful Ice-Queen, a Frenchman, and of all people, Santino?
I’d always lived by the tenants of God, country, and family, only I’d never known what order to put them in. Up until the war, I’d always considered myself Catholic because that’s how my mother raised me. Granted, I understood the faith, believed in it and appreciated the values, but I’d never really felt like it meant that much to me. While I went to church when I could and tried to lead as pious and noble a life as I could, but up until maybe four years ago, I didn’t really care that much.
This goddamned war put things in perspective.
It was Muslims versus Christians again, but the lines were nowhere near as clear as they used to be. We had excommunicated Russians, South American extremists, African rebels, Hindu Indians, Pakistanis, expansionist Mexicans, Chinese, Japanese, Europeans, Koreans, and Americans, all involved in one way or another.
When word came out concerning Russia’s involvement in the biological attacks on Jerusalem, China started mobilizing. They didn’t care much about Jerusalem, or any other Western interest, but there had been growing tension with Russia over natural resources, territorial expansion, and aiding terrorism. Within weeks of the attack, China closed its borders permanently. The only thing they continued was trade with the West, especially America, but even that was in question thanks to tension mounting over China’s near stranglehold on rare earth elements. Their Eastern front was another matter, armed to the teeth, and defensively entrenched; China was ready for anything.
As a result of their military buildup, the first hostilities were over border contention near Kazakhstan. Blood was spilt on both sides, but it also set a precedent for years to come between the two nations of mere skirmishes, with no gains for either side.
While China and Russia were at a stalemate, Pakistan and India continued to wage a bloodthirsty land war. Europe and Islamic forces in the Middle East were still fighting over the same “promised land” fought over for a thousand years. African warlords slaughtered anyone they could get their hands on. South America warred within itself and Mexico fought against both neighboring continents. There wasn’t a peaceful day that went by without hostilities. Cities on nearly every continent lay in ruin, the United States included. Cultures were devastated. Maybe two billion souls lost already.
Nope, the world was pretty much fucked. The war had no end in sight, and my two year stint away from the Teams wasn’t going to hurt anyone… as long as I survived long enough to go back.
“You all right, Jacob?” Helena asked cautiously. “We’re going to need you sharp tonight.”
“I’m fine. Just reminiscing.” It was probably best she got my attention when she did. I hadn’t had a chance to think about my father yet, and all the bullshit that came with that stream of consciousness.
“Well, wake up. The shore’s in sight. We should reach the ship in ten.”
I gave her a quick thumbs up and got to work.
***
A short distance from the giant cargo ship, Bordeaux cut the engine, allowing the small boat to drift idly towards its target. The rest of us were crouched low in the boat, weapons at the ready. Making contact with the ship, Wang attached a small, but powerful, magnet to the hull, securing a rope between it and the CRRC and anchoring them together. Next, Santino took an old fashioned grappling hook, a device left relatively unchanged in design since the Romans, and flung it over the edge of the railing. Giving it a quick tug, making sure it caught, he turned towards McDougal and smiled.
McDougal nodded and pointed up. Santino returned the nod and started his ascent, Vincent not far behind him, ready to take point. A few agonizing minutes later, Santino transmitted the all clear double click over the radio.
Wang, Bordeaux, and McDougal followed. Once their feet cleared the railing, Helena started up after them, leaving me to deal with our little boat.
Making sure I had a firm grip on the rope, I pulled out a stopper holding the air in the inflated ring around the boat, and pulled a simple plug from the rubber hull, allowing water to flow aboard. Within seconds, the boat started to sink, engine and all. Normally, SEALs would take their CRRC ashore and hide it, but our mission parameters made that difficult. When it was almost fully submerged, I detached the line attached to the magnet and pocketed the anchor.
Quickly pulling myself up the rope, I reached the railing, swung my feet over the edge and dropped quietly to the deck. I pulled up the rope, collapsed the grappling hook, and handed it off to Santino, who efficiently reattached it to the appropriate spot on the back of his rig. As the team’s lead scout, he traveled light. His rig was more of a harness than a vest and was lightly burdened, with only magazines, a few tools, the grappling hook and rope, and a rather nasty looking knife that belonged in a Rambo movie. He had a small pack attached to his back, containing his computer hooked up to his eye piece, and as our scout, he was in control of a small aerial drone that Vincent carried on his back.
The UAV was basically a small helicopter, its circumference no more than that of large dinner plate. It consisted of three helicopter blades that jutted out from the circular chassis to create a three points of a triangle. It was extremely quiet, almost invisible, and very effective. It carried high resolution cameras outfitted with night vision and thermal lenses for use in the dark. It could climb a thousand feet in the air and had an effective radius of two miles. It was solar charged and had the shelf life of a Twinkie.
As soon as Santino secured his grappling hook to his rig, he crept forward while Vincent kept pace with him. Santino could stalk anything on the planet, so I imagined Vincent might have trouble keeping up. He could tip toe over broken ligh
t bulbs to sneak up on a prowling panther if he had to. Still, Vincent was a veteran, and knew his way around. He’d keep up. Besides, Santino could easily peel off on his own if McDougal thought it was necessary. He probably preferred going lone wolf anyway, with nothing but a knife in his teeth, and streaks of blood on his cheeks.
As he crept forward, the rest of us followed at a safe distance. I was rearguard in the formation checking our six constantly to keep our rear secure. Thankfully, everyone must have been asleep as we didn’t run across a soul. After a quick stroll over the deck of the ship, we came across the stacked cargo containers.
Santino pulled down his night vision goggles to scan the containers. According to intelligence, our local contact had tagged those going to the terrorists’ stronghold with infrared paint, invisible to the naked eye, but brilliantly luminescent under night vision.
Santino pointed to three containers, the first of which we inspected was conveniently only half full, but still a tight squeeze for any swim pair. It was a good thing I wasn’t paired with Bordeaux, since we were the two biggest guys on the team. He was with Wang, who was the smallest, but McDougal will be with them too, making for a tight fit.
Granted, being in such tight proximity to Helena probably won’t be the most comfortable thing either – only for far different reasons.
I made sure not to look at Santino, who I knew would never give up an opportunity to screw with me. I was saved from my embarrassment when I saw him moving off to the side of the ship. He looked for an infrared beacon that would point out our contact’s position and would send a return signal to alert the local resistance to our presence.
McDougal pointed to Vincent and then a container, then Helena and a container. They nodded and headed towards their assigned containers. I followed Helena. As she opened our container, we peered inside, noticing it was even less spacious than the last. Looking at each other, I gave her a shrug.
“After you, ma’am,” I whispered.
She gave me an indignant look, but went inside all the same. She studied the layout, and after a few minutes, decided on the position that would keep her close to the exit, comfortable, and most importantly, as far away from me as possible. Unfortunately for her, she had to get out, let me in first, and basically lie next to me in a veritable spooning position to achieve that goal. I couldn’t even have been lucky enough to be on the outside, instead, I left all hope on my confining wetsuit to contain any dignity that manages to sneak out. Thankfully, my mind on the mission, I could focus on things other than Helena, but a quick memory of her leaning over in her tight BDU pants and sleeveless undershirt made me think otherwise.
I shook my head. Get your mind out of the gutter, Hunter.
I felt completely uncomfortable. I knew there was nothing to do but take the initiative and make the first smart ass comment. “Keep your hands to yourself, Strauss, we’re on a mission.”
She couldn’t turn to look at me after she shut the door, securing it from the inside, but I knew she must have been fuming. “Don’t get any funny ideas, Lieutenant. Remember, I’m supposed to be covering your ass on this mission.”
Ouch, the innuendo was killing me.
“Well, just don’t take a nap, you’re going to need some fancy moves to get out of this thing.”
“Is that a hint of concern I hear in your voice, Lieutenant?”
“Well, umm, no,” I stuttered. “Just offering unsolicited advice. I’m sure you love that.”
“Funny. But don’t worry,” she consoled. “This isn’t the first time I’ve had to jump out of a moving vehicle.”
That sounded like an interesting story, but it seemed best to just shut up at this point, no sense rising to the bait. She wants me, she’s just playing hard to get, but two can play that game. I liked the game. The hunt. It must have been the sniper in me. It was always the best part.
“Listen.” She whispered, before I could come up with a witty retort. “The crew is getting ready to put us in the truck.”
I hadn’t heard, but after she mentioned it, I craned my neck, and did in fact notice the obvious clanking sound of machinery.
She had good ears, I had to give her that. Having good eyes wasn’t everything for a sniper, but ears were important too, especially when people sneak up on you. She probably carried a myriad of motion sensors and fisheye cameras that she could hook up to doors, ladders, or any other entry to guard her back as well. If the sensors were tripped, a 3D map of her location would be displayed on her eye piece to show where her sensor was triggered, then fisheye cams would give her visual confirmation.
Clever little gadgets.
She also had a few claymores, which she could set up as a last line of defense. These she could set for either proximity detonation, when someone tripped the lasers, or for manual detonation.
As our containers were loaded into the truck, Helena and I tossed and bumped into each other uncomfortably. Once we were finally secured we started to speed away down the road. I checked my watch and hoped the dock boss waited until later this morning before he started asking questions about why a half dozen containers were loaded at one in the morning and mysteriously transported away. I also hoped the guards around town didn’t ask any questions either.
Currently, my eye piece showed real time imagery from the Argos II Reconnaissance Satellite. Each member of the team had a wrist implant that we received from our respective militaries upon completion of basic training. They provided a few functions, but were currently used as locator beacons that showed up as pulsating dots on my screen. Seven of these dots were currently spread out in a line, pulsing green, indicating life signs were nominal. Another nice function of Santino’s UAV was that it not only provided aerial imagery, but also updated the locator beacons’ positions as well as our vital signs. It allowed for continuous data updates even if every single satellite somehow spontaneously went off line.
Manipulating the small joystick that extended from a wrist sheath, which worked just like a mouse attached to any household computer, I zoomed out on the image to show our position, and where we were heading. Using two small buttons I traced a line from our position to the enemy cave, and had the computer calculate the distance. A half second later, the computer estimated we were about six miles from our target destination. Helena would be jumping off about a mile out, finding a good spot to cover us.
The map also showed a green square deep inside the city. I wasn’t sure what it was so I clicked on it, only to realize it was probably our equipment cache. As a precaution, I had the computer calculate the fastest route from our target location to the cache, mapping it out with straight red lines, with blue flashing dots as waypoints. Once it showed up on my screen, I saved it and filed it away in case we needed it in the future. It was better to be safe than sorry, and it was as easy as voicing a quick command into my microphone to call it up.
I retracted the joystick on my wrist sheath and opened the protective flap away from my forearm. It revealed a small LCD screen about half the length of my forearm. It was a touchpad readout for my computer stowed in my back pouch. I called up a simplified E-mail system, meant to send small packets of information that worked with Santino’s UAV that projected an encrypted Wi-Fi network we were all connected to. The information we sent to one another was coded, and nearly impossible to crack. I quickly typed in Cave -> Cache, attached the file, and sent the data containing our escape route on its way.
“Nice thinking, Lieutenant,” Helena said a few seconds later. “It’ll be good to have this in a pinch if things get nasty.”
“You being nice to me, Strauss?”
“No. Just keeping you honest.”
“Right. So, you ready to jump? Looks like we’re almost there.”
“Yeah. I called up the info on my lens, I’m ready to go.”
“Good. Just, umm, well, you know, be careful.”
She was silent. She knew I was serious. Combat was tough, both physically and mentally, no matter how experi
enced an operator you are.
“Thank you, Jacob,” she said quietly. “To be honest, I’m a little nervous. I’ve been in the field many times before, but something just feels wrong about this one. Like there’s something we’re missing.”
No kidding, but there was no sense telling her I felt the same way. I didn’t want to add to her discomfort, so I stayed quiet, waiting for her to continue.
I felt her shift in her position. “But don’t worry, I’ll cover your back. We’ll get through this with no problem, and be back in Rome in a few hours listening to Santino complain about something. Hey, maybe we’ll get a little down time. What better place to be based out of than Rome?”
I felt the same way.
“You be careful too, Jacob,” she said finishing her thoughts. “I’m just starting to like you, and I’d hate to have to make Santino my new best friend on the team.”
I had to laugh at that. She’d soon realize that, really, he could be as best a friend as they came.
“I will.”
Maybe we were having a moment here, but I had no idea. Emotions were always high during operations, and could lead to false positives. It was probably for the best.
Mission first.
A few minutes later she started shifting again, ready to disembark the vehicle.
“Well, Lieutenant, if you’re quite done… what is it you Americans say… ‘spooning me,’ I’m ready to go.”
I coughed but recovered quickly.
“Don’t worry, Strauss. I’ve had better.”
“Ooh, you’ll pay for that one.”
I laughed. “Just get out of here,” I said with a gentle nudge.
“Good luck,” she said, opening one of the double doors. Taking a deep breath, she clutched her rifle close, and leapt out into the darkness.
I saw her hit the ground roughly, roll twice, and come up on a knee. She immediately slung her rifle and pulled her P90 from its secure location on her back all in one fluid motion.
The Last Roman (Praetorian Series - Book One) Page 10