Peace - A Navy SEALS Novel (DeLeo's Action Thriller Singles Book 3)

by Bernard Lee DeLeo

  “I was sooooooooo… short, Doc,” Peace added wistfully to the amusement of his comrades.

  “I thought all you Seals were immune to that short-timer crapola,” Dave joked, hurrying forward as he continued. “Buck up, boys, try to remember you all are professionals.”

  “That’s it, Peace,” Doc snarled loud enough for Dave to hear. “As soon as you get the job done, frag the CIA wanker.”

  __

  “Wow, just like home,” Peace said quietly, looking around the barren room.

  “Yea, but wait until you see the view,” Dave replied leading Peace over to one of the windows in the high-rise tenement.

  The two men had spent nearly three hours moving through the pre-dawn darkness, avoiding the roads and checkpoints. Briefed in detail on the route they would take to the room left for them by Dave’s contacts in the city, Peace had memorized every notable sign or building quirk he could use as a marker along the way. Fattah’s patrols inside the city were motorized, and easily avoidable. The fact their target even had twenty-four hour patrols made Peace a little uneasy. Peace peered out of the window, standing off to the side opposite Dave. The open square was clearly visible.

  Peace used his spotter’s scope, gauging distances and angles.

  “Just under five hundred yards, right?” Dave asked.

  Peace nodded his confirmation. “The line of sight is just as you promised too. If he comes into the square this afternoon, he won’t be leaving. I’m just glad you weren’t going to ask me to use a strange rifle for the shot.”

  Dave glanced back at Peace’s sniper rifle he had brought with him, smiling over knowingly at Peace. “I know how you guys are. What, you think I’d try to pull some chicken-shit stunt, like putting an untested weapon in your hands with no chance to get acquainted?”

  “It’s happened to me before,” Piece replied, shoving his spotter’s scope back into its pouch.

  “Not on this mission,” Dave stated seriously. “I want that prick dead, and as many of those mooks he has around him as you can nail in two minutes. I’d help, but my eyes ain’t as good as they once were. Besides, a silenced beauty like you brought will draw very little attention. How many shots can you get off before the silencer is toast?”

  “A bunch,” Peace answered, walking over to retrieve his specialized sniper rifle.

  “I can’t believe you ain’t one of those purists with a bolt action Springfield,” Dave kidded him, taking the fully automatic weapon from him, looking it over with practiced ease.

  Peace laughed. “Hell, I’d use one of those computer automated suckers if I could figure out how to take it into the field.”

  “What do you use for clips?”

  “Fifteen usually, but I have thirty rounders,” Piece replied handing Dave one, and taking his rifle back.

  “Jesus, what kind of accuracy do you get after a few rounds. Hell, it’d be so hot, the shots would be traveling in loops.”

  “Nope, special alloy barrel. It doesn’t get loopy until about the end of the second clip,” Peace explained, running his chamois clothe along the barrel proudly. “I helped design this sucker. It’s based a little on the old Russian Dragunov sniper rifle.”

  “No shit?” Dave said, impressed. “I guess that explains why the rest of our teams out here didn’t have one. What is it, a prototype? This the same one you were putting holes in tanks with when we rescued old Julio?”

  “One and the same,” Peace acknowledged. “Hey, how is Julio? You get any word?”

  “I forgot you went native for a couple months. Our friend is now the President of Mexico,” Dave said, watching Peace’s reaction with amusement.

  “Holy shit, he did it!” Peace exclaimed in a hushed voice.

  “He did indeed, and he married his long time love, our…”

  “No way,” Peace cut him off, holding his hands over his face as if blocking out a distasteful sight. “Not the lovely Consuela. Say it isn’t true.”

  “Ain’t love grand?” Dave laughed. “You couldn’t come up with that scenario even in a Sci-Fi novel: a CIA operative, and a terrorist, drug dealer.”

  “The Chinese Curse.”

  “May you live in interesting times,” Dave finished for him, chuckling. “Come on. Set up your stand, and let’s take some readings. I want us to have the square zeroed into target squares. With your memory, and that freak weapon, we should be able to nail the whole crew.”

  “Ambitious thinking,” Peace nodded, setting up near the window. “I like it.”

  “Which way do you like to go?” Dave asked, taking out the spotter’s scope again.

  “Right to left, then down left to right,” Peace answered. “When the excitement starts, just call them out, and we’ll improvise.”

  “You really think you can get them all?”

  Peace looked over dead serious. “I heard what Fattah did. I’ll blow his balls off first, and then nail every son-of-a-bitch you call out.”

  Dave was silent for a moment, a smile of satisfaction spreading slowly along the line of his mouth. “I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship. You can’t take the chance, and blow his balls off first; but thanks for the thought.”

  “Watch me,” Peace replied calmly. “I’ll give him ten seconds of knowing his dick went first before I put one right between his horns.”

  Dave laughed, and peered out towards the square. “Who said this line of work can’t be fun?”

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Final Adjustment

  “Oh baby, this is sweet,” Dave whispered. “The prick thinks he’s the prophet, born again.”

  Dave had spread the translucent film over the window earlier, with Peace setting up back far enough so no one could see the barrel of his sniper rifle. They would not pull away the reflective film until the moment of opportunity arrived. All anyone looking toward the window could see was a dull blackness.

  “I see Al Jazerra is ready to record his monumental speech for the rest of the flock,” Peace observed. “His retinue is only fourteen guys. How about if…”

  “No,” Dave interrupted, “you cannot pump some rounds into the Al Jazzera people. If any of them flakes get hit, our cover gig will get blown big-time.”

  “Just the opposite, my dear Watson,” Peace objected. “We’ve made those terrorist backing shit-heads so sacrosanct as targets, no one would believe America would harm a hair on any of their representative’s heads.”

  “That’s an order, sailor,” Dave sighed, secretly visualizing the thrill of watching Peace wipe out an Al Jazerra broadcast crew on live Arabic television.

  “You’ll be sorry when the pricks hang this on us anyway,” Peace remarked.

  “Look Peace, the overconfident jerk has a pedestal,” Dave said, ignoring Peace’s words.

  “Oh baby, plan A proceeds as planned.”

  “He might fall off out of sight with the height of that platform,” Dave said, as he watched Fattah mount the raised platform, his hands stretching out to the crowd in the square.

  “Heh, heh, heh, oh ye of little faith,” Peace whispered as he sighted in on the robed peacock below. “The velocity of this round will take his dick off so clean, it will take him five seconds before the realization hits him.”

  “With those robes, how will you know where his dick is?”

  “I’m going for a five shot round robin just for margin of error,” Peace said, glancing over at Dave, anticipating his startled look.

  Dave did just as Peace anticipated, looking up in confusion at Peace. When he saw Peace already staring at him, crooked grin in place, Dave simply shrugged, and looked back towards the square.

  “You know, of course, if I don’t get confirmation of that bastard’s death, I’m going down there personally to get it.”

  “Yep,” Peace replied simply, “and if I miss, I’ll be right by your side. Of course, if that happens, a lot of innocents will die.”

  “Yep,” Dave confirmed stoically. “So, don’t miss.�
�

  “Hoo-ya.”

  __

  “Oh Christ, what a shot!” Dave exclaimed, as Peace fired his next round right between the eyes of the writhing Fattah, as even his bodyguards had not seen their charge drop to the surface of the podium. Peace had fired a burst dead center into Fattah’s groin area, allowing the promised ten seconds of recognition and blinding pain before he finished the terrorist.

  Dave began calling out preordained targets over the next ninety seconds, watching his targets drop one after the other until Fattah’s contingent were all dead. The crowd had begun screaming, and running in all directions. Dave heard Peace change clips with a sudden icy feeling. Al Jazeera cameramen dropped with each silenced pull of the trigger, ending with tank piercing shots flowing through the network van. An obviously terrified newsman rushed out of the vehicle, only to die an instant later. Dave reached out to grasp Peace’s arm. The two men stared at each other for a moment before Dave let go.

  “Not very nice,” Dave remarked, as Peace dismantled his stand and rifle.

  “I ain’t in the business of being nice,” Peace replied simply.

  “You are in the business of following orders, sailor.”

  “File charges later,” Peace replied with chilling calmness. “Let’s go.”

  The two men blended into the crowd flowing in panic down the streets, carefully mimicking the crowd’s body actions, and verbal shouts. Except for the packs they carried, Dave and Peace could have passed for Mashhad natives. Each man had a silenced 9mm gripped under his outer clothing. Both men spoke the local dialect flawlessly. Sirens from approaching ambulances and police wailed in warning of their approach. The streaming crowds made way for the emergency vehicles, as the police on one of them scanned the faces they passed.

  Peace gauged his shot carefully, and as the open police vehicle neared, he pulled his silenced automatic out. In a split second, one of the policemen pitched backwards to the floor of the police vehicle, a hole through his forehead. Peace began shouting ‘sniper’, warning the crowd to take cover as he pointed vaguely back towards the building they had passed. The policemen heeded Peace’s warning too, looking fearfully up at the windows above them, as the driver sped up.

  After the emergency vehicles had passed, Dave and Peace stayed with the crowd, which thinned as people sought the safety of their homes. Only when they were nearly alone on the street did the two men angle towards their chosen exit point from the city. Knowing the police would be in as much confusion as the crowd had been, they stayed out of sight whenever they heard any vehicle approach.

  “Very neat, Peace,” Dave remarked. “That sucker was looking right at us. I thought we blended pretty well, but there’s always one guy sharper than all the rest.”

  “We may get out of the city without even a stir,” Peace replied in an equally hushed voice.

  “Yea,” Dave agreed as they kept as far away from the street as they could, “unless some wise-guy immediately starts patrolling the outskirts. Hopefully, with that wacko Fattah dead, they won’t really know what to do. My people will be giving them some direction after this blows over. I’m hoping one of my contacts even gets to be Mayor.”

  “Uh oh,” Peace said, pointing towards an armored vehicle ahead of them, riding in what looked like a circular pattern.

  “They’re watching for people leaving the city. Damn it!”

  “You didn’t really think we’d get to stroll out of here, did you?” Peace asked with a grin.

  “You can’t fault me for hoping,” Dave sighed. “We better wait till dark. I doubt these guys are equipped with night vision gear.”

  “We can slip out if we time these patrols,” Peace suggested. “They don’t have enough guys to encircle this city with any real chance of stopping anything but vehicles on the main road.”

  “On the other hand,” Dave pointed out. “Worst case, they may just shoot us on sight if they see us heading out of the city. Best case, we get stopped no matter how native we look. We could just ambush one of them, and high-tail it out of town to our LZ.”

  “There are at least five guys, and a machine gun on those suckers,” Peace replied.

  “You work from a distance, and I’ll position myself up close for the finish.”

  Not for the first time since Peace had been in action with Dave, did he marvel at how the CIA man could describe an incredibly dangerous suggestion as if it would be a stroll along the beach. After thinking it over for a moment, Peace spoke.

  “I can stop the thing. It’s just I probably won’t be able to help with the guys in the back in time to…”

  “You let me worry about them,” Dave cut him off. “We’ll take a closer look, and see how much time we have between vehicles. Remember though, these folks are supposed to be on our side now.”

  “Want to walk up and show them your CIA card?”

  “You know, Peace, you missed your calling when you didn’t go into comedy.”

  “This just feels wrong, Dave. You and I can ghost out of here in the dark like you were saying. I…”

  “This ain’t up for a vote, Peace. The longer we’re in the city, the more chance we can be captured; and brother, that ain’t an option. Now let’s get moving.”

  “Hoo-ya,” Peace acknowledged, starting out immediately for the intersection they had seen the carrier pass.

  An hour later, just as the armored carrier stopped at the intersection to check for movement on the streets, Peace fired a fully automatic burst into the driver’s cab, instantly killing the driver and policeman next to the driver. Dave ran up to the stalled vehicle and attacked the men in the back. Two of the men died with Dave’s first shots, before he felt himself propelled to the ground, as blackness descended over his consciousness like the final curtain at a Broadway play.

  __

  Dave came to groggily, his head aching more than he could ever remember. He heard the roaring of the wind, and the familiar sound of a helicopter, accompanying the pain in his head. Dave felt the vibration of the moving chopper. Only then did he squint his eyes open slightly against the blinding pain. His head had been strapped to the gurney he lay on, as was his body. The dark interior of the helicopter gun-ship swam blurrily into view. A face he recognized peered into his eyes closely. Using the shielded light of a pinpoint beam, the medic from Seal Team Six watched Dave’s eye movements. Doc turned off the light when he saw Dave close his eyes painfully.

  “Welcome back,” Doc quipped. “We were afraid you might drift off permanently.”

  “Wha… what happened?”

  “You took a 9mm slug across your head, just over the left ear. When you smacked back on to the road, you bounced the back of your skull off the pavement. Peace put you on the seat of the carrier, and took off for the rendezvous point, with three armored vehicles full of highly perturbed armed men hot on your trail. Peace made it to the meeting point. The others didn’t.”

  “Damn, Doc… my head feels like…”

  “I know, Sir. Lay still, and I’ll loosen you up. I wanted to make sure you didn’t have a spinal injury before I let you show me some movement,” Doc explained as he loosened the gurney straps. “Let’s take this slow.”

  Over the next few minutes, Dave moved each of his limbs, and Chief Jameson checked his eyes once more.

  “You have a concussion for sure, Sir,” Doc informed him. The medic reached to the side of the gurney, and picked up a cold compress. He worked the compress under Dave’s neck and head. “Any better?”

  “Much better,” Dave whispered with a sigh. “I don’t feel like heaving my guts up anymore.”

  “Sorry I can’t give you something, but we have to wait until we can get you back to base. I have to keep you awake too, so let’s keep up the conversation,” Doc said amiably.

  “Are the rest of the guys on board?”

  “All present and accounted for. Peace is giving Lieutenant Commander Righter the rundown. Want me to have them come over here?”

  “All I fe
el like doin’ is passing out,” Dave replied. “I guess if they don’t mind, I better talk to them.”

  Doc called over to where Peace and Dan were sitting next to the port gunner. They scrambled up and over to the gurney, watching their footing with practiced care. Peace put a hand on Dave’s arm. Dan peered at Dave in the darkness, passing a hand comically back and forth in front of Dave’s face.

  “Can you see my hand?” Dan asked, provoking muted laughter from the other two Seals.

  “I can’t see shit, you prick,” Dave retorted. “I guess you were right about waiting, Peace. Did you get the bastard that creased me?”

  “A second too late,” Peace replied. “With all the blood, I thought you were dead. After Doc cleaned you up, and staunched the flow, you looked a heck of a lot better.”

  “Any witnesses to our pickup?” Dave asked, shifting slightly to his side.

  “No live ones,” Dan answered. “The three vehicles chasing you guys thought they had easy pickin’s. No one else sallied forth out of the city after we took care of them. I have to ask, Dave. Can you corroborate Peace’s hit on Fattah? “

  “If he told you he put a burst through Fattah’s groin area, causing him to curl up like the rabid dog he was; and then two more rounds right through his head, then I can corroborate his story.”

  Dan looked over at Peace for a moment in the darkness, as Doc laughed in appreciation. “No, he left out the part about blowing the guy’s dick off first. He gave a more business like report.”

  “I felt it was unnecessary in relation to the mission details,” Peace said.

  “When I called in the report, they told me the whole thing had been broadcast by Al Jazzira. They lost the film crew during the unfortunate assassination of Fattah. Would you know anything about that?” Dan asked. “Peace told me I had to ask you.”

  “Collateral damage,” Dave replied simply. “Any repercussions?”

  “Not since we weren’t involved,” Dan answered. “Any reason

  Peace couldn’t say collateral damage.”

  “He probably feels bad about those poor rotten terrorist lovin’ vermin… I mean innocent victims of our mission,” Dave recounted, drawing more laughter. “What do you say, Peace?”