Dangerous Ground: The Team Book Five

by David M. Salkin

  “We don’t have much time to put together an operation,” said Moose.

  “Correct. And we can’t simply fire upon a civilian vessel. This whole part of the world is a tinderbox waiting for something to happen which could start a major war. American aggression on a civilian vessel will have China making excuses for expanding even further south. And I don’t have to remind everyone that your targets are wearing explosive vests.”

  “One KIA and one wounded because of those things,” replied Moose.

  “So. Any ideas on how you want to approach this? We can put you in the water or onto the ship. We changed our heading to close some distance. You’re less than thirty minutes out by air.”

  “You drop us into the drink with a high-speed raft. We board the rust bucket, kill the hajis, and let the crew go home.”

  “We have everything you need. If you hit them in a couple of hours, it’ll be dark. You’d have an advantage.”

  Moose nodded. “On the water, in the dark, against exploding targets. It’s sort of perfect.”

  His men smiled.

  A different breed.

  “This operation is code named Lionfish,” said Commander Coburn.

  “Invasive species?” asked Jon, who happened to know a lot about fish.

  “Actually, the name ‘Singapore’ translates as ‘Lion City’ from Sanskrit. But I like your reasoning just as well. These men are invasive species all over the world, and just like the Lionfish eating the reefs, this ideology has to be exterminated with extreme prejudice.”

  The men nodded in silent agreement. Joke time was over, for the time being. ISIS and its like-minded organizations were responsible for hundreds of thousands of deaths. The death toll would grow to millions if the threat was not eradicated.

  Commander Coburn continued, “Gentlemen, if not for the innocent crew, we’d have the John Warner put a fish into this tub, and the whole world could assume they sank. That’s not how we operate, however. Instead, you get to risk your asses killing these animals without harming the maybe innocent crew.”

  “It’s okay,” said Moose. “This is what we train for. Well, most of us. Apo and Carl, you get to sit this one out.”

  They both began to object immediately. Moose raised a beefy hand.

  “I run military ops. We’re trained for this exact type of operation. Not that you can’t handle it, I know you both can do almost anything—no disrespect, but this is what SEALs train for.”

  Hodges faked a dramatic cough.

  “And one Marine who is brain-damaged enough to almost be considered a water-born amphibian killer. Besides, we’ll need his sharpshooting skills. That’s it, guys. No discussion, sorry. Five-man team fits in one Zodiac combat craft. Commander, I assume you have them on board?”

  “Roger that. F470 ready to go. We’ll bring it out by Sea Hawk and drop it in.”

  Apo and Carl were pissed to miss the operation, but they understood. They were highly trained killers and spies, with many talents the others didn’t possess, but dropping out of helicopters in wetsuits, in the dark, into a black ocean to board a rubber raft, climb an enemy vessel in silence, and take out eight hostiles wearing exploding vests wasn’t exactly their specialty.

  “What can we do to help?” asked Apo quietly.

  “You can monitor the drones with Petty Officer Hart and talk to us when we’re on board that ship. You’ll be overwatch. Carl, you fly out supersonic tonight.”

  Carl made a face. “What are you talking about?”

  “Flash message from home. The big boss—Holstrum, himself. Wants you there yesterday. Commander Coburn offered a ride at Mach 1.8 with midair refueling. F/A-18 Super Hornet—you’ll be in DC faster than we’ll be at this rust bucket. Holstrum will brief you when you hit the ground at Langley. Whatever it is, it’s important enough to get you a ride in a billion-dollar fighter—I’m extremely jealous. You’re dismissed to get your ride. I suggest a serious crap before you get in that cockpit.”

  Moose pointed to a small crane on the rear of the freighter. “Hodges, you think you can get up there?”

  “Of course.”

  “You’ll be first man up. You get into position with Christine and Apo supplying extra pairs of eyes to help you start finding targets. When we’re all on board we start at the stern and work forward. Silencers or close quarters, no noise. If we do this right, the crew wakes up eight passengers shy and doesn’t know we were there. Everyone good?”

  The room gave “Aye, aye’s” in unison. Carl shook hands with his friends and wished them all luck, then ran off to find his first ride in a Super Hornet.

  Game on.

  Chapter 61

  Ragam

  The eight foreigners sat together on the deck in an open area amidships. They hated being below decks in an old rusty freighter that rolled heavily in the open ocean. They were simple, ignorant men who hadn’t ever traveled before starting their jihad. To be on a ship in the rolling ocean at night was terrifying.

  Malik was in charge of the group. It had been his bravery during the ambush that got the men out alive, as he gunned the outboard engine and swerved around the sinking boats in his way. The gunfire had been overwhelming, and it was only his cool-headed steering that saved his boat. They had hoped that some of the other boats might eventually catch up to theirs, but accepted the reality that they were the only ones who made it. It was God’s will. They would make the final journey alone, and then bring death to the infidels in Singapore.

  Malik read from the paper Mohammed had given him before the mission. “Singapore is the third largest financial market in the world, after London and New York. We have already shown our strength in New York, and London will be soon, but Singapore will change everything in Southeast Asia. They believe they are beyond our reach, but we will shut down their entire city and destroy global markets. Their streets will run red with the blood of the infidels, and the panic will last for months.”

  He looked up and was happy to see his men looked more excited than scared. He continued reading. “You will arrive in a port that places you at Keppel Terminal Road. Do not be confused by these names. It is a very short trip to your targets. A brother will be waiting for you in a yellow van at the dock, and he will take you to the Singapore Exchange, ten minutes away, on Shenton Road. Memorize this name. You will find places to hide until the morning rush has begun and the markets are open. Once the business day has started and the infidels are busy you will strike. Singapore Exchange, Monetary Authority, Conference Hall, Telok Ayer Market. You will be martyrs and greeted in Paradise as heroes for your eternal reward, God willing. Allah be praised.”

  Malik finished reading the note and folded it back up. He thoughtfully placed it back inside his vest and spoke to his men, making eye contact with each of them. “When we get off this boat, we will all arm the vests.” He opened his vest and showed them the arming switch, which they all had been trained to use. “Once it lights red, you are ready for the great jihad.” He began pointing to his men and calling off locations from the paper he had just read, assigning them their spots. Four of them would hit the Singapore Exchange together. The first would take out the security. Once the guards were dead, the others could run inside and get to the trading floor where they would wipe out the traders, computers, and business executives who filled the building. Malik would be one of those to get inside the trading floor. It would be a glorious end.

  The men concluded their meeting with evening prayer, and decided to eat some dinner before shaving and preparing for martyrdom. Each of them were lost in their own thoughts, ranging from the pride their families would have, to their reward of virgins in Paradise. It was too exciting to contemplate real sleep. They would lay on the open deck and breathe fresh ocean air, and try to ignore the rolling of the deck as they headed west toward their destinies.

  Chapter 62

  B
ig Bear, California

  Stephen Burstein had picked a tiny mountain community in California in which to chill out and hide for a while. Big Bear was less than a hundred miles away from LA, but it was a different world. The mountains were gorgeous, overlooking Big Bear Lake. If there was heaven on earth, Stephen had accidently found it. Well, not “accidently”—he had used Google Earth to find someplace “pretty” and far away.

  He rented a condo, which was expensive, but ski season was approaching, and the skiers and snowboarders would descend on the mountains soon enough. Though he didn’t need to work, he did want to keep busy. He took a job at a ski resort doing their online marketing. It gave him access to the web and decent computers so he could snoop around and not be on his own personal laptop. He had smashed his old computer with a hammer and literally destroyed every piece of the motherboard before he left Virginia. He purchased a new laptop with cash, upgraded it himself, and then split to California where he felt safer. Who would find him across the country in the mountains? Who would even bother looking for him?

  ***

  Carl Stone was tired and grumpy. That was a dangerous combination for anyone who might come across him. He’d been awake for way too many hours in a row. After arriving in California, he rented an SUV at the tiny Big Bear airport and drove off to find his subject. Wallace had apologized for making Carl do such a menial task, especially after being pulled from halfway around the world, but there were very few people on the planet he trusted to do this job. Holstrum had wanted to ask Chris Cascaes, but Chris was emphatic that he and Julia were staying retired. They jumped back in to help out their old friend Wallace, but that was it. They were just going to enjoy each other’s company in the quiet normalcy of civilian life and stay retired.

  When Holstrum gave Carl his assignment, Carl didn’t complain or ask too many questions. He’d experienced an amazing trip halfway around the world in a fighter jet, flying at speeds most folks would never understand. He’d even slept a few hours in the cramped seat, although it wasn’t nearly enough. Holstrum had told him that they’d traced the source of the files placed on his computer. The source was a college kid named Stephen Burstein who had actually submitted a request to intern at the NSA. He might have gotten it, too, if he hadn’t taken a job with Jeff Dennis. Of course, the NSA didn’t pay interns half a million dollars, either.

  The kid had deposited the money into his checking account, which meant he wasn’t trying to hide it. Perhaps the kid thought the job was legit. A young college kid—who knows? Carl was to find him and bring him back to Langley for questioning without physically harming him.

  It was easy enough to find the kid. For all of his computer smarts, he wasn’t exactly a super spy. Although he paid cash for the airline ticket, he still had to use his real name and show ID to get on the plane. The NSA and CIA had already flagged the kid after breaking his code into the director’s personal computer. Even though the kid had destroyed his old computer, his old IP address had dozens of purchases made online over the years with his name on it. They traced the kid’s movements from Virginia to Big Bear quickly, then used facial recognition software to search for him around the small town. Even a small town like Big Bear has cameras at places like convenience stores, gas stations, and the like. The NSA merely “borrowed” them for a moment.

  Stephen sat outside on a huge boulder that provided a stunning view of the lake. He sat with his laptop open, taking pictures from his camera and then editing them on his laptop. It was gorgeous, with the autumn colors painting postcards for him. His iPhone also told Carl exactly where he was.

  Carl walked out with his own camera. His camera showed Stephen’s location on the satellite map, but the instant he saw the kid, he cleared the screen and acted like he was also taking pictures.

  “Oh, hey, sorry. Didn’t mean to intrude. I always come up here. First time I’ve ever seen anyone else up here,” said Carl.

  Stephen was startled at first, not expecting to see anyone else, but the man’s mellow demeanor was enough to help him relax. He brushed his long blond hair out of his face.

  “It’s cool. You come up here a lot, too, huh? What an amazing spot,” said Stephen.

  “Yeah, all the time.” He walked over and extended his hand. “Carl,” he said, using his real name for the first time in months. He was too tired and unintimidated to give a shit.

  The kid shook his head and stammered for a second. He fumbled his words.

  “Forget your own name? Must be some good pot,” said Carl with a knowing wink.

  “No, no, I don’t smoke,” said the kid. “I just, I . . .”

  “Forgot your name?”

  “No,” he said. Then a nervous laugh. “Stephen. But I gotta get going anyway. Enjoy the view.” He closed his laptop quickly and started getting up. When Carl grabbed him by his triceps and squeezed, the kid let out a howl and almost dropped his laptop.

  “Stephen Burstein, the United States of America would very much like to talk to you. If you behave well, you get to keep your half-mil and have a nice life. If you act like an asshole, I will personally skin you alive and hang you from a tree as grizzly bait.” He twisted and squeezed harder, forcing the kid’s knees to buckle. “I make hurting people an exact science, kid. Are you gonna fuck with me or do we understand each other?”

  “I’ll tell you everything!” he blurted. “It wasn’t my fault! I thought I was helping!”

  “I believe you, kid. That’s the only reason you’re still alive. Now we’re going to take a walk to my truck and then a quick flight to Virginia. There are some folks who want to talk to you there. Once you get this all off your chest, you’ll feel better. Then you can forget anything happened, and keep your cash.”

  Stephen was shaken and scared, and this stranger seemed to know everything already. All he could manage was a “Yes, sir.”

  Chapter 63

  2400 Zulu: Operation Lionfish

  The team had been provided with combat scuba gear, night vision, and silenced, customized automatic weapons. Their faces were painted black, and with their black wetsuits on, they simply disappeared in the darkness. Commander Coburn walked them to a UH-60 Ghost Hawk, a stealth helicopter that was used to avoid enemy radar as well as keep noise down. The stealth helicopter was a thing of futuristic beauty.

  The doors slid open and Commander Coburn snapped a salute at the team. “Good luck, gentlemen. We’re closing distance behind you and we’ll have you out of the water three minutes after you make the call.”

  Moose returned a quick salute and piled in with his gear. A Zodiac combat raiding raft was inside, taking up most of the space. The men sat on the inflated gunwales of the raft with masks and snorkels around their necks and silenced weapons in their laps, complete with condoms over the muzzles to keep some water out.

  It was a quarter moon, and the sky was black except for a few stars peeking out from the high ceiling of clouds. Fairly gentle seas and a warm breeze made for a lovely tropical night.

  Ripper leaned toward Moose in the hum of the stealth helicopter. “We got lucky with the weather. Perfect night.”

  “Yeah. Nice night to be a meat-eater. You fuckers stay frosty! We ain’t here to hold hands on the beach. The hajis on that boat are wearing fucking claymores! We hit them so hard and fast, they never know we were there, and everyone goes home at the end of the night! You tracking me?”

  All of the men on the team returned an “Aye, aye, skipper!” except Hodges, who couldn’t help growling a Marine Corps “Oohh rahhh!”

  High overhead, a US Navy radar jammer was working with two fighter escorts, lest the Chinese start meddling with their mission. The USS John Warner lurked below the surface at mast depth less than five hundred yards from the Ragam, watching in silence and ready if needed.

  The helicopter raced over the black ocean at 150 knots, making very little noise. The typical whump of rotor
blades had been silenced through American ingenuity, a trick the rest of the world was trying to steal via hacking into American defense networks. When the helicopter was two miles from the stern of the Ragam, the pilot dropped lower and hovered. The team stood up, got out of the Zodiac, and muscled it to the door where it was shoved overboard. As soon as the boat was deployed, it was masks up, and the team took giant-stride entries, splashing into the black ocean. Within two minutes, all of them were up in the boat and their helicopter was gone like it had never been there.

  Ripper turned on the silent electric motor and manned the tiller as the men got into position in the raft, losing their masks and replacing them with night vision. They quickly checked their throat mics and earbuds, and satisfied that everything was working, Ripper opened the throttle. The engine was silent, but not as powerful as a gasoline engine. They caught up to the boat after a ten-minute ride, which put them right at the stern.

  Apo was sitting next to Christine, watching the men from cameras on a silent drone, high overhead. The night-vision cameras made their mission as easy to follow as if it had been daylight. He spoke into his mic as they watched the monitor and Christine operated the cameras on the drone, which was being flown from another part of the ship.

  “Nest to Fisher One, we have you five by five. No movement on the deck, but it looks like six of the tangos are sleeping topside. One light on inside the bridge. All quiet. Over.”

  Moose whispered, “Roger Nest. Boarding. Out.”

  They attached a large suction cup to the steel hull of the freighter and secured a line from the ship to their raft, then tied it off. They were officially “attached” to their target. McCoy gently tossed a line with a rubber-coated grappling hook up to the rear rail. The rubber coating kept it silent as it caught the rail. He gave a good tug, then began a quick climb up the outside of the hull until he was aboard and had his weapon out in front of him, scanning in every direction.