Dangerous Ground: The Team Book Five

by David M. Salkin

  The South China Sea—three and a half million square kilometers, and suddenly very crowded.

  Chapter 47

  Labi Forest

  The sun had only been up for a couple of hours and it was already sweltering. Kevin and Val pushed themselves to keep moving, trying to walk uphill wherever they could see a slope in their footing. Kevin stopped near a plant that had rainwater collected in a depression of a branch. He licked his lips and grabbed Val.

  “Drink,” he said, pointing.

  “I’m okay. You drink it.”

  “There’ll be plenty more, go on.”

  Val leaned in and slurped up the water, wishing it was a gallon more. Kevin licked some moisture off one of the large leaves and pulled a dark berry off, examining it.

  “If you don’t know what it is, don’t eat it,” she said, worried.

  He nodded and tossed it away, feeling his stomach grumble.

  “Okay, we have to keep moving,” he said. He stepped forward and rolled his ankle on the root of a large tree, tumbling over, almost tripping Val as he went down. He rolled around trying not to scream out loud as he held his ankle, wondering if he had broken it. Terrified he had broken his phone or camera, he scrambled around in the ferns and grass until he located them both. The lens cap was missing from the camera, but other than that, they were unscathed.

  “Are you okay?” asked Val, kneeling down and grabbing him by the shirt.

  “My ankle. I’m an idiot. Jesus, it hurts. Let’s take a break for a second. It’s throbbing.” He sat up in a more comfortable position and looked at Val. “Hey, let’s do another broadcast while we’re stopped. I’ll tag the video with our GPS so the Yanks can find us easier.”

  “Okay, but I look like shit,” she said, pulling her hair behind her ear.

  “It adds drama,” he said, forcing a smile.

  Kevin powered up his camera and phone, using the satellite uplink to live broadcast the video directly to the Dropbox folder and mailboxes he had used earlier. He focused on Val and gave her the cue.

  Val spoke softly. “This is Valerie Jean Kozak, on the move in the Labi Forest as we flee from ISIS forces that have murdered dozens of Penan tribesmen as well as several Bruneian forest rangers. To anyone that is seeing this broadcast, we need your help. We don’t know how many or how close our pursuers are, but we do know that we can’t be captured. Please, if you’re seeing this, send help! This is Valerie Jean Kozak, signing off and praying for help.”

  Kevin stopped filming and hit the “send” button. “Okay, they should see that. I’ll leave my phone and video on in case they call.”

  ***

  One of Interior Minister Abdul Ali’s most trusted men knocked on his door and walked in with a bow.

  “Minister Ali, I’ve been trying to find information on the two journalists, as you requested.”

  The minister stopped what he was doing and looked up from his desk. “Yes?”

  “They just broadcast a message from Labi Forest requesting help. It was in a file that had the GPS location on it.” He smiled.

  The minister stood up from his desk and ran around to his assistant with a huge smile. “Excellent work! You have coordinates?”

  “I have the actual location, right on the map. Come to my office.”

  The two of them hurried down the hallway to his small office, where his computer showed a satellite map with a small flag. The assistant rolled his mouse over the flag, and longitude and latitude coordinates appeared. Abdul pulled his phone and hit redial, which went to the last number—Mohammed bin Awad.

  “Yes, Minister?” answered Mohammed, seeing the incoming number.

  “I have the location of the two reporters, write this down!”

  ***

  The ranger had walked along a trail for several kilometers, not sure when it was last used, or by whom. For all he knew, it could have been made by Penan people or a wild pig. What he did know was that every minute he was further away from the ISIS training camp and a horrible death.

  The men behind him complained of the heat and bugs as they hacked through the jungle. Thorned bushes cut sweaty skin as AK-47s clunked along hip bones. Hazrol’s radio squelched, and he pulled it off his belt.

  “Hazrol,” he whispered as he followed the long line of soldiers.

  “We have their location!” sneered Mohammed. “They were at this compass point less than thirty minutes ago. I’m going to send it to your sat phone. If you hurry you can catch them in less than an hour!”

  “Excellent. And what about the mission?”

  “The minister has agreed to arrange for the trucks, now that we know where these two are. The men are loading into the boats right now. God willing, they’ll be at the port and out to sea tonight. When you find these two, you can kill the man there, but I promised Hamdi the woman, alive.”

  “Understood.” Hazrol opened his sat phone and looked at the screen. The GPS map lit up with a blue point showing their location and a yellow pulsing point showing their target. He smiled and told the men in front of him to stop. The line of men stopped walking, and Hazrol walked quickly to the front. He took the machete from the man behind the ranger and smiled at their captive.

  “Your services are no longer needed,” he said, slicing the sharp blade across the man’s bare belly. His guts protruded out of the gaping wound, and Hazrol shoved his hand into the coils of bloody intestine and pulled them out. He let go and watched the man hit the soft earth, screaming ungodly sounds. He handed the machete back to the soldier, wiped his hands off on his pants, and shouted “Follow me!” as he ran through the jungle following the flashing yellow dot on the map.

  Chapter 48

  Langley

  Darren and Dex sat in a conference room drinking coffee, watching the video screen. Tina Marie had just showed them the most recently broadcast message from the two reporters in Brunei.

  “It was recorded at ten in the morning Zulu time. They’re exactly twelve hours ahead, so that’s only thirty minutes ago,” said Tina Marie.

  “Were they told to broadcast another video?” asked Darren.

  “No, sir. They weren’t supposed to check in for several hours after their 0800 message. I think they’re getting tired and scared.”

  “Yeah, well if the wrong folks are seeing this, they have reason to be scared. We need to get the team on the move.”

  Darren pulled his secure phone and pressed the contact for Moose.

  “I was just going to call in, chief. The Dauntless is underway with the packages. We’re trying to monitor things here from the control room’s radar and sonar. Considering we’re out in the middle of nowhere, this sure is a busy place.”

  “Explain,” said Darren.

  “I’ve got an island being built less than one klick away, two Chinese J-11 fighters buzzed us and the Dauntless twice already this morning as she was taking off, and Hodges is way up on top of the tower telling me he can see Chinese warships cruising around nearby. They got the whole ocean. They gotta be right in my fucking lap?”

  “Well, yeah, that’s sort of the point. Excellent work on the recovery. You have a new mission.”

  “The two reporters?”

  “Affirmative. Satellite and drone intel came up with two names. Mohammed bin Awad and Hamdi Fazil. Awad’s an up-and-comer. Hamdi’s just muscle. They organized a force of about a hundred hostiles, but we don’t know their target yet.”

  “Maybe it’s just a training ground?” said Moose.

  “Not halfway around the world from home. There’s a target out there somewhere. Depending on how sophisticated they are and how much support they have, they may know they’ve been compromised. How fast can you have your team ready for a search and rescue op?”

  “We’re ready now, although we packed light for this mission. If we’re facing a large force, I�
�d like some heavier weapons and more ammo. Can you have our transport bring us a shopping list if I send it to you?”

  “I should be able to make that happen. Your transport will come from the Reagan. Probably be at least an hour if they can scramble fast. That gives you almost no time to come up with your plan. I’m sending you satellite images and last location of the two reporters. You can decide the best approach and just tell your bird where to take you. I’ll have it all set up.”

  “Roger that, chief. We’ll be ready.”

  Moose called Ripper into the control room up top, and the two of them began pouring over the maps and images that Langley had sent. They had a pretty good idea of the location of the two reporters based on their last recorded GPS, but didn’t know how large a force was tracking them. The jungle was so thick where they were, even a drone couldn’t see through the canopy.

  “If they keep heading up to higher ground, there’s a little clearing here. We can intercept them here,” said Moose, pointing to their screen.

  Ripper nodded. “What about the camp?”

  Moose shrugged. “Right now, it’s just a search and rescue. The last real-time shots of the camp show them on the move. They’re either sending everyone out after the reporters, or they’re heading out to wherever their target is. Langley thinks they have something big planned, otherwise why head halfway around the world to set up a camp here?”

  Ripper looked at the satellite and drone images of the camp. There were a lot of enemy fighters packed into boats on the water. “The river doesn’t follow the escape route of the reporters. If they’re heading in the direction that the boats are all facing, they’re going downstream, headed northwest. The reporters are moving to higher ground northeast.” Ripper pointed to where the river emptied into the South China Sea. “They could follow the river to Panaga, Kuala Belait, Sungai Teraban, Seria—they’d have a lot of options once they get north. What’s there worth destroying?” asked Ripper as he zoomed in on the map.

  Moose studied the screen. “If they want to disrupt oil production, they could hit pipelines, the docks here and here, or the port where the tankers load. There’s financial offices here and here. It doesn’t seem right, though. Everything Langley says points to the sultan instituting more Sharia law and harsher penalties for noncompliance. Why would ISIS want to hit what looks like a friendly host nation?”

  Ripper made a face. “So then they’re not hitting anything. They’re catching a ride out.”

  Moose nodded. “I think that’s a much more likely scenario. They grab a ship to beat feet because maybe they know that we know they’re there. That broadcast has already hit news networks and the web. They have to know that their location is compromised.” He thought a moment. “So where would they go?”

  “Either to a new camp or to their target. You know, there may be an airfield out there, too.”

  Moose nodded. “Langley said there was zero chatter about possible targets out here. They got a big fat zero. But Darren thinks it’s something big and coming soon. No intel—just his gut. But the man’s usually right.”

  Ripper sat back in his chair and folded his thick arms. “Well, we’ve got about ten seconds to come up with a plan and unass this rig. We just leaving it?”

  “The Sunrise?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Yup. The CIA brought it in from somewhere. They’ll bring it out to somewhere. Not our problem. Tell the men we’re leaving and to assemble on the helipad in forty minutes. We’re heading into combat, so full battle rattle with Kevlar, I don’t care how hot it is. The inbound bird will have extra ammo and some heavier weapons I requested. See you in thirty.”

  Ripper smacked Moose’s massive shoulder and hopped up out of his chair. “This is good,” he said to himself out loud, nodding his head.

  “What’s good?” asked Moose.

  “Going back out into the jungle to kill some ISIS fucks. I kind of hated being on this floating metal target that doesn’t move. If I wanted to be an oilman, I would have moved to Midland, Texas, with my brother. Let’s go spread some seven-point-six-two freedom.”

  Moose shook his head. “There’s something wrong with you, which is why I love you. Get moving.”

  Ripper froze. “Wait!”

  “What is it?” asked Moose, seriously concerned.

  “McCoy got to do it twice. I always wanted to do this!” He walked over to the all-call PA button and smacked it. “Now hear this! Now hear this! This is your almost-captain speaking! Gear up, you meat-eating fish! We’re going to go rescue two reporters and get a chance to maybe separate some terrorist heads from terrorist bodies! Grab all gear and assemble on the helipad. You have forty minutes from now. Full battle rattle and Kevlar! Go!”

  He leaned back against the wall and smiled, much goofier than his normal serious face. “Man, that was so cool. No wonder the skippers all walk around like they have a stick up their ass.”

  Moose shook his head. “Seriously, dude. When we get back, I’m sending you for a psych eval.”

  “Oh, come on! Like you don’t want to do it.” He made a face and walked out to get his gear up.

  Moose sat in the control room, staring at the all-call button, wondering what he’d even say.

  ***

  Four hundred feet below the surface, the USS John Warner tailed the HSV Dauntless and the Chinese submarine that followed her in three hundred feet of water. The high-speed Dauntless was pulling away from the noisy Chinese submarine, which was completely unaware that the United States’ newest Virginia-class sub was behind her.

  “Maintain course and speed, Mr. Burdge. Master Chief Adams, is it me, or is that the noisiest damn submarine in the ocean?”

  The master chief looked back over his shoulder at the skipper. “Maybe we’re just spoiled, skipper. But yes, sir. I could follow this pig from fifty miles out. If we had windows, we’d probably see black diesel exhaust.”

  The skipper laughed. “Stay on her. Surface ships closing?”

  “Negative. Those same three ships are maintaining their parallel course three miles out. And it is parallel. Every time the Dauntless moves by a few degrees, so do they.”

  The skipper nodded. “They’re just sending a very clear message—letting the Dauntless know that they’re there. You know what’s so damn cool, though?”

  The master chief smiled. “Yes, sir. That no one knows we’re here!”

  Chapter 49

  Search & Rescue

  Two US Navy Sea Hawks sped over the South China Sea just above the water. Far above, the Reagan had also deployed a radar-jamming plane that would be escorting the two birds into Bruneian airspace. While the Sea Hawks were capable of carrying eleven soldiers, the team had requested additional weapons and ammo, and the commander of the Reagan had been generous with the requested arms. The additional gear meant a second bird to give the team a little room to reassemble their individual kits, something not usually done while on the way to the mission target.

  With one bird hovering, the first touched down on the pad, and Moose directed half the team into the Sea Hawk.

  “Let’s go, people! McCoy, Jensen, Apo, Batman, and Cohen! Chalk one!”

  The assigned men ran to the door as it slid open and piled in. By the time the bird was moving out to make room for the second, the men inside were already opening boxes and pulling weapons and ammo.

  Moose watched as the second bird set down gently on the oil platform. He grabbed Ripper and yelled into his ear above the rotor blades. “Did we remember to turn off all the lights and water?” He smiled and smacked his friend’s shoulder, then yelled to the remaining team.

  “O’Conner, Hodges, Stone, Ripper, on me in chalk two! Sayonara Sunrise!”

  They didn’t have much time to gear up as they flew over the water at 150 knots. They quickly grabbed extra ammo, including grenades. Ripper pulled an M249
SAW out of one of the crates and loaded it. McCoy, their acting medic and radio operator, put together first aid supplies lest the two reporters need medical attention, or any of them become wounded during anticipated combat, as well as extra batteries for the radios and phones.

  They finished getting ready, double-checked their gear and communications equipment, and then sat back and watched the water go by. The crew chief spoke to them over their radio headsets.

  “Time to target, ten minutes. We’ll be on station over international waters while you’re finding your package. If we get low on fuel, we’ll have to go back to the ship, refuel, and return. That means an extra hour for the round trip and refueling, so grab them fast, or prepare to hunker down for an hour.”

  “Roger that. Finding these two make take more than a couple of minutes, and they have company on their tail. If we can’t dust off in time, we’ll keep heading north.”

  The crew chief gave them a thumbs-up. The two helicopters banked hard, having gone a bit out of their way to avoid populated areas along the coast. Now over land, they turned southeast and roared over the treetops hugging the earth to avoid being spotted. Over their heads, the navy pilots were jamming Bruneian airspace in the area.

  The lead pilot’s voice came over their headsets. “Thirty seconds!”

  The birds slowed their speed and banked again, this time moving around some very tall trees and finding a small opening in the canopy over a river. Stones in the riverbed could be seen in the shallow water. The lights inside turned green and the crew chief slid the side doors open.

  “Good luck!” shouted the crew chief as the birds hovered just a foot over the water.

  Moose was the first one out of his helicopter, hitting water only a few inches deep. In less than a minute, all ten men were on the ground, running full speed into the jungle for cover. The Sea Hawks disappeared quickly as the men squatted in the ferns, taking their weapons off safety.