Military Fiction: THE MAC WALKER COLLECTION: A special ops military fiction collection...

by D. W. Ulsterman

  Tilley snapped his fingers to emphasize how quickly the chatter ceased. Mac already knew the answer as to why.

  “Someone ordered them to go silent. You think it’s this Hamid he spoke of during the interrogation?”

  The senator withdrew a third photograph from his packet and waited for Mac and Tilley to do the same. Tilley nodded at Mac.

  “Yes, what you have in front of you now are two images of Hamid Gilani, one with a full beard and one without. It took us several weeks to confirm his identity. Current age is forty-five, born in Chicago to an American mother and a father from Afghanistan. We believe Hamid travelled to Afghanistan in the 1980’s to fight for the Taliban against the Soviets. During his time there he trained with militants directly linked to Bin Laden where he acquired a reputation for being something of a badass. Our own CIA records claim he personally took out at least twenty Soviet soldiers in less than a year. And we would know since we were helping to arm him and the other Taliban he was running with. Eventually he made his way back to the United States, rented a small studio apartment in New York City in 1999. He remained in New York until moving back to Chicago in August of 2001. We have been unable to determine how he paid for his apartment, food, clothing etc. during his time in New York. He was interviewed twice in Chicago by the FBI after 9-11, but gave us nothing to confirm any links he might have had to the terrorist attacks on that day.”

  The senator snorted.

  “Which is bullshit of course, our boys knew he was involved somehow, they just didn’t have the information to prove it. Plus, he was lawyered up real good the second time they questioned him. Some big shot Muslim Brotherhood attorney. That was a bit of a mistake on their part though, because that brought Ramtin Armeen to our attention. He’s the one giving Hamid the orders. We’re pretty certain that’s who paid for the attorney, the New York apartment…everything.”

  Mac looked back at the photograph of Ramtin Armeen.

  “So Ramtin was the one who actually ordered whatever group was responsible for the chatter to go silent, right? He tells Hamid and Hamid tells everyone else.”

  Senator Elder nodded.

  “Yes sir, that’s how we see it.”

  Tilley looked at Mac and then spoke in a tone that made it clear how serious the situation really was.

  “It also means they’ve gone operational, Mac. We could be just weeks, maybe even days out from them pulling the pin on this thing. CIA thinks there are at least twelve terror cells involved, spread out in major cities all over the country, but we don’t have enough to move against them. We’re just watching and waiting and I think that’s exactly what Ramtin Armeen is counting on. They might have been planning this for years, so they don’t need to communicate anymore. The order went out, and now they’re ready to go. It could be hundreds dead, thousands, tens of thousands…who knows?”

  The senator shifted in his chair as he glared down at the photos in front of him.

  “It’s a goddamn Jihad they have planned. That’s all these people know. It’s all they understand, and I sure as hell ain’t gonna sit on my ass and just let them get away with it!”

  The senator’s hand slammed the top of the table and then he pointed at Mac.

  “Tilley here tells me you’re the very best he’s got, Mr. Walker. I’ve seen your military file. I reviewed the report of what you did saving all those people in that hijacked airliner. You’ve been shot, stabbed, beat to shit, but you seem to have a rather amazing and admirable knack for not only surviving, but more importantly, getting back up and finishing the job.”

  Mac sat silent for a moment and then slowly folded his hands in front of him.

  “What’s the job, Senator?”

  Tilley was prepared to answer, but was quickly cut off by Senator Elder.

  “The job is you going out there and cutting off the two main heads of this very dangerous snake, Mr. Walker. I don’t much care how you do it, just so long as it gets done, and gets done quick. We have you send both those terrorist bastards to the hell they so richly deserve. I think the rest of them will stand down. It’ll scare the shit out of them…give us more time to gather evidence and then bring them all in. They want to do some Jihad on us? Well okay then, we’re gonna unleash you to give them a taste of their own medicine. You deliver them an American Jihad, Mr. Walker. I want you to take those sons-a-bitches OUT.”

  Mac looked across the table at Ray Tilley.

  “What’s it pay?”

  Tilley gave a quick half smile, knowing that once Mac asked about price that meant he had most likely decided to take the assignment.

  “Fifty thousand cash up front, and a hundred thousand after both targets are terminated. I already have a safe house ready to go, alternate identification, passports, weapons, everything you need, Mac.”

  Mac’s eyebrows rose slightly. A hundred and fifty thousand was a significant payoff.

  “No-one else from the team on this – just me?”

  Tilley nodded.

  “This isn’t even a Project Icon assignment. This is so far off the books…you’d be a lone wolf. No help from anyone. All funds in non-traceable cash, same with the weapons, your identification, the safe house, everything.”

  Mac was interested, but not yet entirely sold. He had never been given an assignment inside the United States. Such things were generally frowned upon in his line of work – too many potential complications.

  “Why me? Why hasn’t CIA, Homeland Security, or the FBI taken this on?”

  Senator Elder cursed under his breath and then slid another photograph toward Mac.

  “Take a look. You know what that is?”

  Mac glanced down then looked back down again, uncertain he was actually seeing what he thought.

  “That, Senator, appears to be a small pile of shit.”

  Tilley cleared his throat.

  “That’s exactly what it is, Mr. Walker. Pig shit to be precise. It was sent to CIA headquarters in Langley last month. Just a simple box and a pile of shit in a plastic bag with the name of a CIA agent printed on the outside. That agent had been tracking Hamid Gilani for several months. Then she disappeared. Then this box shows up. CIA did a DNA test and determined a match.”

  Even Mac Walker, who had seen plenty of horror in his still relatively young life, found himself shocked at the story Tilley was telling him. The senator’s voice bellowed his own disgust at the photograph.

  “Yeah, they killed our agent and fed her to some goddamn pigs! Or worse, she might have been eaten alive. Apparently these people won’t eat pork, but they sure as hell have no problem feeding a human being to them. Now tell him about the schools, Mr. Tilley.”

  Ray Tilley straightened in his chair and paused for a moment before continuing.

  “Toward the end of the chatter phase, the names and locations of several schools were mentioned. No specific threats, but a long list of school facilities ranging from college campuses to daycare centers, East Coast, West Coast, and various locations in between. Another school name was repeated as well, several times – Beslan.”

  Mac leaned forward as his eyes narrowed.

  “Beslan? As in the Beslan Massacre?”

  Tilley nodded.

  The Beslan Massacre had been a horrific terrorist attack upon a large school in the town of Beslan, Russia. Children, parents, and teachers were taken hostage for three days by Muslim militants. Three hundred and sixty-six people were killed, nearly half of which were children.

  “These people already confirmed how sick and twisted they are when they sent us our agent back in a box of pig shit. They sure as hell will have no problem blowing up a bunch of schools. And if they coordinate this to happen on the same day, all across the country…”

  The senator’s voice trailed off into silence.

  “Do you think Armeen had something to do with Beslan? Why would an Iranian-born militant be linked to Islamic separatists in Russia?”

  Tilley shrugged at Mac’s question.

&nbs
p; “We don’t know for certain, but a man with the kind of resources Ramtin Armeen has, billions of dollars, that could buy a lot of blood, Mac. There are people in this world willing to blow themselves up for a lot less. What I can tell you is this – I’ve reviewed the data, the contacts, the links, the past history and the current threats of both Armeen and Gilani. These are two very-very bad players in the War on Terror. They have something planned, something terrible, and it’s gonna happen soon if we don’t take them out.”

  The senator’s heavily knuckled right pointer finger jabbed the top of the conference table hard enough the sound echoed against the walls of the room.

  “Mr. Walker, this operation has the support of some people very high up in this nation’s political food chain, understood? There are to be no lawyers, no trial publicity, no martyrdom for these bastards. We simply want them dead and gone and if you are able to do that for us, this nation will be in your debt.”

  Mac Walker looked from the senator to Tilley and then nodded once.

  “Ok, I’m in.”

  2.

  24 hours later…

  Mac parked his rented black four-door sedan down a narrow alley in the bustling Chicago Chinatown district, home to an Asian community that numbered nearly seventy thousand and was as self contained a neighborhood as one could find in the city.

  It was also, according to Tilley, a good place to hide out.

  Mac’s safe house was a second floor studio just above a vacant commercial property. Because no business was currently occupying the space below he was allowed to park his vehicle next to the narrow steel framed stairway to the apartment. The door was half-inch thick reinforced steel and housed in an equally heavy steel frame and secured by two deep bolt locks. If somebody wished to break in it would prove both difficult and time consuming. The four hundred square foot interior had a simple pull out bed, table, two chairs, and a full kitchen and bathroom space.

  It was certainly far more comfortable accommodations than Mac had to endure on previous assignments and given the delicious smells coming from the multitude of Asian eateries on either side of the street, he was likely to be much better fed too.

  Mac sat inside the apartment with the front door securely locked and waited for Tilley’s scheduled call on his shadow cell. As usual for Ray Tilley, the call arrived on time.

  “I take it you found the key to the apartment?”

  Mac said yes, and then waited for Tilley to continue so he could find out where the ammo was being kept.

  “Behind the fridge you’ll find a safe. The combination is 09102001. You’ll find a Truvelo 338 Counter Measure sniper rifle accompanied by forty rounds of ammunition. Are you familiar with the model?”

  Mac had limited experience with Truvelo rifles but did recall they were both lightweight, and folded up for quick and easy storage making them useful when transporting from one location to another this lighter weight diminished the weapon’s accuracy if the target was beyond five hundred yards.

  “A little, but I’m a quick study.”

  “Ok, you’ll also find another file with Ramtin Armeen’s known schedule, his address, a short list of people in Chicago who know him, etc. It’s not terribly specific, but it’s a start. He stays in a suite above his work office, so that should make things a little easier for you. The building is well secured though. As for Hamid Gilani we’re not even sure he’s in Chicago at this time. As soon as I confirm his location I’ll let you know. Any questions?”

  Mac moved from his chair to the small window that overlooked the crowded street below.

  “Yeah, any preference on which one you’d like me to take out first? I assume Ramtin since he has the means to pay for passage out of the country and then hole up somewhere safe and that’s exactly what he’d do if he found out Gilani was killed. As for Gilani, once Ramtin is dead he’ll likely panic and reveal himself and I can track him down soon after.”

  There was a brief pause before Tilley replied.

  “That sounds fine, Mac, though if either presents a kill shot I’d suggest you take it. And be careful.”

  A moment later found Mac pulling back the apartment’s fridge and finding the safe. He quickly input the digital combination given him and opened the door. Inside sat the scoped sniper rifle and the promised forty rounds of ammunition, a pair of high powered military grade Steiner binoculars with night vision capability, the Gilani file, and a well worn wallet containing his alternate identifications that included an Illinois drivers license, a passport, and grocery store discount card put there to make the wallet’s contents appear that much more authentic. Mac took out the binoculars and the wallet and then closed the safe and pushed the fridge back into place. He then took another look at the Tilley-provided drivers license, noting his name was Mackenzie Wallace. He stuck the wallet into the front inside pocket of his navy blue windbreaker jacket.

  Well that should be easy enough to remember.

  He was hungry.

  Food first and then a bit of night recon.

  Mac stepped out onto the second floor stoop, locked the door, and then moved quickly down the stairs and onto the sidewalk below. He scanned both sides of the street and decided on a restaurant a half block down to the right named, Uncle Chan’s.

  The restaurant’s interior eating area was no more than twelve feet wide but at least twice that long. Booths lined the right side of the wall and several two-chair tables took up space on the left. The place was empty but for an older black couple seated in the booth nearest the entrance. Mac was greeted almost immediately by an attractive twenty-something Asian woman who looked at him with a wide, friendly smile.

  “Is it just you for late lunch or you would you like the dinner menu?”

  Mac smiled back and shrugged.

  “Whatever you suggest, ma’am – I am hungry. I’ll take the booth all the way in the back if that’s ok.”

  The woman’s eyes widened as did her smile.

  “Ah, are you southern?”

  Mac nodded as he followed the woman toward the back booth. If possible he always took a table near the back in a restaurant so as to be able to see anyone coming into the place. It was a lesson first taught to him many years earlier by his father during Mac’s childhood growing up in Carville, Louisiana.

  “Yes ma’am.”

  The young woman motioned for Mac to take a seat and then proceeded to pour him a glass of water into a red plastic cup.

  “Do you live here in Chicago?”

  Mac noted the woman’s English was excellent, with just a hint of an Asian accent.

  “No, I’m on business.”

  The woman nodded while the smile remained.

  “Yes, always lots of business here. My name is Li. Do you want to look at both the lunch and dinner menus? We don’t mind. It’s late afternoon so…”

  Mac smiled.

  “Hello, Li, my name is Mac. How about you just bring me the dish that you think will best fill the belly of a sad sack like me. I don’t mind spending a little extra.”

  Li nodded and then disappeared through a small hallway behind Mac’s booth where he could hear the sound of kitchen activity.

  Mac looked up at the sound of the front door opening and watched as a tall, early twenties black male dressed in a grey hoodie and a pair of dark jeans that hung well below his waist entered the restaurant. While appearing outwardly to ignore the new arrival Mac Walker was in fact assessing the man’s threat potential, a habit of many years both in the military and as a member of Project Icon.

  “Hey, where do you want me to sit?”

  The older black couple eating toward the front of the restaurant looked up, annoyed by the volume of the younger man’s voice. Unfortunately for them, this did not go unnoticed.

  “You got a problem with me being here?”

  The couple looked down at the table, hoping their silence would somehow make them invisible to the overtly aggressive new arrival. Mac heard motion behind him and then saw Li walking qui
ckly toward the front of the restaurant.

  “Hello, sir, you can sit in a booth here if you want. Can I get you anything to drink?”

  Mac sensed the tension in Li’s voice, though he was impressed by her composure as the man loomed above her.

  “Yeah, bitch, get me a Coke.”

  Li looked like she was ready to ask the man to leave but then simply smiled and nodded as the man sat down in the booth directly behind the older couple.

  Mac noted the man’s right foot as it rapidly tapped the cream-colored tile restaurant floor. He appeared increasingly agitated, his eyes nervously glancing through the large windows overlooking the still busy street outside.