The rest of the buildings in this neighborhood were squat and square. The building he was heading to was the only three-story building for blocks around. He could see why. It looked like the houses were plastered over mud. The walls couldn’t support a second story. Davidson wasn’t even sure how the current roofs were holding up.
The three-story looked stick built and a whole heck of a lot sturdier than the rest of the neighborhood. So Davidson headed there. It was an apartment building. No doorman though Davidson guessed.
As he passed the homes he kept his head down, allowing his shalwar kameez clothing to sell that he was a local. When Lopez had called it a pajama suit, Bunny had nearly lost it. She went into an extremely long and pointed discussion of how apparel was an important part of any culture. Lopez had finally just given in rather than listen to another half an hour discussion of the differences in clothing of the four regions of Pakistan and that of India, Iran and Afghanistan.
Needless to say, no one commented further on their attire. Davidson had just accepted his lightweight cotton pants and long shirt. They materials were undyed. Even though it wasn’t uncommon to have silk or even chiffon shalwar kameez, Bunny had chosen the natural cotton ones to denote the team was of the lower class. They should blend right in with the neighborhood they were infiltrating.
Therefore Davidson also wore a Balochi turban. This was not plain. Not at all. Even the poorest of men in Pakistan spent money on their turban. Some wore their family’s colors, others spent nearly a week’s wage on elaborate embroidery. Bunny had chosen a stripped fabric of black and grey. Enough embellishment to pass as a native but not too flashy.
His shoes were kind of an odd loafer. The smooth leather felt strange against his skin. He was used to thick wool socks and combat boots. However, those would have been a complete give away, so he wore the traditional Jutti shoes, no socks.
They were whisper quiet though on the packed dirt street.
He cut across the road and headed into the apartment building. Funny how apartment buildings were pretty much all the same across the world. He could hear the sounds of dinner being made, children being called in from play.
Only the scents were distinctly different in each country. The Pakistani Karachian aromas were like a split between traditional Middle Eastern and Mediterranean. There were lamb kabobs and yogurt, influences from sea trade with Greece and other Mediterranean countries. Then there was the strong scent of lentils and roti, a pasta-like dish. Roasted pine nuts also flavored the air.
Davidson’s mouth watered as he made his way to the far end of the hall to take the stairs up to the roof. Even though the sun was setting, he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Bunny promised them a full meal when they got onto the submarine that was their extraction vessel.
And what Bunny promised, Bunny usually delivered.
Davidson walked up the steps at a nice casual pace. He couldn’t draw attention to himself, trotting up them, but how did one do that in these Jutti shoes? They flopped at the heel if he even walked a little fast.
Finally he made it to the roof.
He opened the door to find goats. Yes, goats on the roof, oh and some chickens too. Davidson found his mic pack and clicked it twice which was their signal for Stark and the rest back home to pay attention.
Apparently the CIA had only done a cursory sweep over the roof, probably mid-day when the goats and chickens weren’t here and called the roof “clean.”
Not so much. Really wishing for his boots now, Davidson carefully made his way across the poopy minefield to the far edge of the roof when he heard a sound. He hadn’t removed his rifle from his duffle bag yet, but it was still going to be awkward.
His hand went to the back of his pants to his sidearm as the door opened on a youth. The boy had on a traditional Kurta purple shirt worn over blue jeans. He had on tennis shoes instead of Juttis.
The boy at first was cooing to the animals, bringing them an evening snack until he spotted Davidson and stopped, stiffening, the child’s eyes dilating.
“Man ny ap kw kw'ea nqsan nhan mtlb,” Davidson said, taking his hand from behind his back and spreading his hands wide. “I mean you no harm.”
The boy backed a step, looking like he might run back down the stairs. And what was Davidson going to do about it? He certainly wasn’t going to shoot a boy in the back that was for sure.
The boy’s eyes narrowed. “GI Joe?” the boy asked in broken English.
Whether the boy was talking about the historical nickname for American forces or the movie, Davidson wasn’t sure. But did it matter? He could try to lie his way out of this but it didn’t feel like the move here.
Davidson nodded. “GI Joe.”
The boy nodded enthusiastically and took several steps closer to Davidson.
“You fight Al Qaeda?” the boy asked.
It was easy to forget that the terrorist organization wasn’t just hurting America, but anyone who interacted with America. Pakistan was nearly in as much danger from suicide bombers as Israel. While there was some support for the terrorist organization in the tribal lands and eastern provinces, this far south, Al Qaeda were as feared and resented as the terrorists were in America.
Again, Davidson nodded.
The boy’s lips widened into a smile showing off his white teeth. “Good,” he added.
Davidson reached into his pocket and pulled out all the change he had. About seven rupee or five American dollars. They were mixture of gold and aluminum coins. He tossed them to the boy.
The child caught them mid-air. His smile, somehow spread even further. “Thanks, Joe!” the boy said then ran back inside.
That had been a calculated risk. Would the boy tell? Would he blow Davidson’s cover?
* * *
Bunny paced behind Stark and his mother, chewing the edge of her thumbnail.
“That was risky…” Stark said what everyone was thinking.
At first it had been almost comical about the goats and chickens. She’d already fired off a rather terse note to their CIA liaison. She would never trust them again. They would run their own satellite coverage of prospective mission. Then the rooftop took a very dangerous turn.
In theory Davidson should have neutralized the boy. Either killed or at the least knocked him out. Davidson had broken protocol and let the boy go, trusting that he wouldn’t blow their entire mission.
They all strained to hear any shouts and evidence that an angry crowd was coming Davidson’s way, but all they heard was the occasional bleat of a goat and the cluck of the chickens.
Davidson’s face wasn’t viewable from the angle of his helmet cam, however it bobbed a bit more than it usually did with Davidson. Usually his breaths were so measured and shallow, not the sharp, too fast ones he was having now.
Then the sniper turned sharply away from the door and looked out over the street to the target building. He must have felt confident the child wouldn’t talk.
Even though Davidson was a trained killer. Razor sharp reaction times and an unflinching loyalty to his team and his country, shooting an innocent child just wasn’t in his constitution. Not even the Knot’s brainwashing had broken that.
And there was an even greater concept at play here.
They needed each and every ally they could get in Pakistan. Davidson didn’t want in any way to reinforce the Middle East’s perception of the arrogant, brutal American image. He wanted to show that even while on a vital mission, America could be merciful.
Making things worse, they didn’t even know how vital this mission was. Davidson certainly wasn’t going to injure a child without knowing what to weigh against the boy’s life.
“Anything?” Bunny asked at Stark.
The techie shook his head. “Nothing. No one seems to know what we are going in for.”
“Don’t know or won’t tell us?” Bunny questioned.
“I really don’t think our liaisons even know. I think three people at Langley know and they aren’t talk
ing.”
Bunny couldn’t get too mad at Stark. She was getting the same response from her contacts at the agency. Everyone was shrugging their shoulders. Apparently not a lot of people had been let in on the Hoover operation.
She stared at the satellite image on the screen. They had like ten different angles on the place. They were blessed with thermal, ground penetrating radar, and a whole host of other specialty lens.
They knew for instance that there were two guards in the front room. Another three between the door and the back room and another five in the back room. They were assuming that is where the mystery item was being held.
It must have been valuable if they had all that muscle in there.
Normally the team would have attacked at 3am which was the true witching hour. Forget about midnight. Even people accustomed to the night shift had a hard time focusing at three am. It was like the human body knew it shouldn’t be awake at that time of the day.
If you ever needed emergency surgery you should just hold off until five am which increased reaction times and alertness by over sixty percent.
However they didn’t have that luxury since the CIA had credible information that the item was being moved at eight pm tonight to parts unknown. This was their window and they had to use it.
Even though she was relieved to be in a nice safe IT room, there was still a part of her that longed to be out with the team. Fieldwork was certainly an acquired taste, but it looked like she had developed an appetite for it.
Sitting here, having absolutely no power over the situation was actually more stressful than being inside the dangerous situation itself. But it had made no sense to go with the team. There was no historical mystery. Just straight up terrorists. So why not stay stateside?
That was before she had worn her thumbnail down to the nub.
She was never staying home again. It was simply costing her too much in manicure fills.
* * *
Davidson ignored the goat nibbling at his pant hem. And the chicken that had decided to roost on his hip. He had to ignore everything else that wasn’t in his scope’s sight.
The rest of the team had made it across the street then split up. Lopez and Levont on the front door. Prenner and Malvern on the side door. They were going in nice and quiet. No blowing up doors or other such nonsense. Stealth was their only advantage really.
They really need to avoid a firefight here. The last thing they wanted was the Pakistani military alerted to a problem in their backyard.
In some ways it was a comfort to be on a “normal” mission. Funny how Al Qaeda seemed far less ominous after having to deal with true religious fanatics like the Righteous. They would have to go back to digging those freaks out, but for now they had a “break” to go after some regular terrorists. Run of the mill really. Almost pedestrian.
However not harmless. Davidson needed to respect the danger that lay ahead.
He watched as Levont used a “silent” pneumonic expander to lift the hinges right off the door. Prenner was doing the same to the side door.
Soundlessly the men counted down. Davidson gripped his rifle. Hopefully he wouldn’t have to fire a single shot, or so was the plan.
He watched as Lopez ripped the door off and Levont charged into the front room. Everyone was equipped with silencers. The bad guys, not so much. Which meant the team had to hit and hit hard, before any shots were fired.
The only thing he could make out were several muzzle flashes. On the thermal sensors, the enemy went down, their bodies cooling quickly. Only five more in the back room who didn’t even seem alerted to the breach.
This mission couldn’t be going any smoother.
* * *
Stark studied the screens. So far so good.
“What is it?” Bunny asked, pointing to another screen.
He pulled his attention back to the screen that was trying to determine what the package was. They had excellent coverage of the room.
The object was circular in shape. About a foot in diameter.
“Flying saucer?” his mother suggested. Bunny frowned. She just didn’t get his mother’s sense of humor.
Bunny huffed as only Bunny could and still look completely cute. “There’s no explosives? Can’t you sniff out what it is made of?”
Now it was his mother’s turn to frown. She really didn’t like being questioned.
“Of course I have and no explosives are present. The object’s shell is made of aluminum with electronic components underneath.”
“What kind of electronic components?” Bunny asked.
“Don’t know,” his mother said, “Until we can get a look under that hood.”
A bright explosion of muzzle flashes drew them all back to the other monitors. The team had breached the back room and strode up to the object.
Stark changed over to the helmet cams to get a better, real time look at it.
Lopez laughed. “Seriously? Really? No. Just no.”
Stark didn’t understand what Lopez was talking about until he switched to the corporal’s helmet cam.
“A Roomba?” Lopez chuckled.
But that was exactly what it was. One of those little robotic vacuum cleaners.
“This is ridiculous,” Levont said. “To risk our lives for a Roomba.”
Stark slid his chair down the line of keyboards and screens. “Not so ridiculous.”
“You thinking what I’m thinking?” his mother said with a wicked grin.
“I think so,” Stark said. “Lopez carefully turn over the Roomba, we need to see the underside to be sure.”
“Um, okay,” the corporal stated, moving forward, flipping the Roomba over.
“Brilliant, just brilliant,” Stark breathed out.
* * *
“What are you guys talking about?” Bunny asked hating that she felt so left behind.
“They have turned the innocent and ubiquitous Roomba into a mobile spying station.”
Bunny wasn’t quite sure how that could be true, but she studied the unit on the screen. Stark and his mother were identifying components like microphones and micro cameras, and motion detectors. Even a bomb sniffing “nose.”
“You see the biggest problem with bugs is that they are stationary,” Stark explained. “We have to hope that our subject is in the room, in range of our bugs. Now the bug can come to you, and do a good dusting of the floor while it is at it. This, this thing is freaking genius.”
“So…” Bunny took in a breath before continuing. “The Roomba, detects motion, then gets itself into the room, going around the floor at the subject’s feet, both video and audio recording what is happening?”
Stark nodded vigorously. “I mean, I wish I’d thought of it. This is totally next gen stuff.”
“What did it record?” Bunny asked.
“We’re packing up,” Lopez said.
“Copy that,” Bunny responded then looked to Stark to answer her.
“Not sure, but I can bet it was either the American Embassy in Islamabad or the Pakistani military headquarters. They could have all of our joint plans to fight extremism in the country.”
“How much would that be worth?”
Stark shrugged. “I don’t know. Five hundred million? Maybe more.”
Bunny looked back to the screen. Five hundred million? That was a lot of money. No wonder the CIA wanted it. She watched as the men made their egress out the side door.
This looked to be a clean mission.
That’s about when the screen bloomed a bright red and orange.
* * *
Davidson shielded his eyes and the missile exploded against the building next to the one his team had just been in. A drone whisked by, flying west but banking toward the north.
“Drone coming around for another pass,” Davidson announced. “Get the hell out of there.”
From the shouts and Spanish cursing, Davidson knew the men were on the move. He took aim at the drone, but was too late to stop the second launch. The
building the men were just in, blow up into a thousand tiny pieces of rubble.
Davidson was glad to see the men pour out of the alley and into the main street.
“Stark, is there a second operation in play? Is the CIA double dipping?” Davidson asked.
“Not that we can tell,” Bunny replied. “But I am sure as hell going to make sure.”
“Hell, no,” Lopez said. “Someone is trying to kill us!”
As the street erupted into chaos as families tried to evacuate. Unfortunately for this part of the country it was a way too often event. He could also see activity over at the military base. Not good.
So much for stealthy..
Another drone came from the east. Davidson swung around to fire, but the missile went off, streaking through the air, heading straight for the men as they ran down the road.
There was no doubt now. Lopez had been right. Someone in their own government was trying to kill their team. His men jumped out of the way as the missile hit the dirt and exploded into a shower of sparks and fire.
Davidson leveled out his breathing, ignoring the chaos around him and focusing on the one part of the drone that would really send a message to whoever was targeting them back home. As the second missile spun up, Davidson pulled the trigger.
He wasn’t aiming at the missile, that would be too easy. Instead he took out the sensor hub under the nose of the drone. Suddenly the drone didn’t seem too sure of itself. The pilot back at base was now blind and deaf.
The delay in launching the missile caused it to go off while still attached to the drone. It exploded mid-air.
“Thank you,” Lopez panted as he ran. Only he wasn’t running toward Davidson, he was running straight for the military base.
“Lopez, what are you doing?” Bunny asked over the com.
“What do you think?” Lopez sneered as Levont joined him. Now all four men were heading to the chain link fence.
Bull's Eye Sniper Chronicles Collection (The Second Cycle of the Betrayed Series) Page 31