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

by D. W. Ulsterman

  The taxi left the airport without incident and within minutes Mac was driving around a massive roundabout, his taxi one of more than a dozen matching vehicles doing the same. Mac’s phone rang. It was Tilley. He hadn’t waited for Mac to call after all.

  “Are you on the move?”

  Mac considered the question, then lied.

  “No - the airport.”

  “Ok…listen carefully. Hadaik – Area Fifteen. Villa Four. Only one of you enters. Ask to speak to Ella. We’re still operational. Do you understand? We’re ok. Ella will take you to where you need to go. Call to confirm when you get there.”

  Tilley hung up, leaving Mac to ponder if he should follow the instructions and drive to the address given.

  “He wants us to head out to Hadaik, Area Fifteen, Villa Four. Meet a woman named Ella. Says we’re still operational. Give me some feedback, boys. What do you think?”

  Minnick, sitting in the passenger seat, was the first to respond.

  “We do it. I thought about what Jack and Benny said. Until we know for sure otherwise, we have to trust Tilley.”

  Mac punched in the address given to him by Tilley into the taxi’s dashboard GPS. They were seven miles from the location. Outside, the streets of Benghazi were quickly becoming increasingly congested. Seven miles in this traffic was going to take some time.

  “Three cars back, black SUV.”

  Mac’s eyes looked in his rear view mirror, following Benny’s description. A large, American-made SUV was in fact three cars behind them, its darkened windows making it impossible to see its occupants.

  The taxi shot forward, passing several cars on the right side as Mac pushed down hard on its accelerator while watching to see how the SUV would react.

  “Definitely following us, Mac.”

  The SUV moved quickly to the left side of the road, coming within inches of hitting several other vehicles as it neared their taxi. Whoever was driving it was well trained.

  Mac moved the taxi back to the center lane and slowed down again, trying to keep at least one other vehicle between them and the SUV. The GPS indicated they were still six miles from the address Tilley had given them.

  “To hell with this.”

  Mac mashed the taxi’s accelerator all the way to the floor, swerving between several other vehicles before veering off onto a side street. The car’s engine howled in protest as its speedometer indicated nearly eighty miles an hour.

  “Still there, hundred yards and closing.”

  Both Benny and Jack had drawn their side-arms as they looked out the taxi’s back window.

  Mac kept the accelerator to the floor as they approached nearly a hundred miles an hour.

  “Hold on.”

  The taxi’s tires screamed against the pavement as Mac pulled the wheel hard to the left and onto another side street, barely missing a row of parked vehicles and causing Mac to almost lose control as he frantically pulled the taxi back toward the center of the street.

  Jack’s Alabama drawl called out from the back seat.

  “Hey! Keep it on the road badass.”

  Mac responded to Jack’s quip by raising his right middle finger as his foot again slammed down on the accelerator.

  “On your right, Mac, forty yards - dumpsters.”

  Mac saw where Minnick was pointing to, a row of ten or so large green metallic dumpsters. The SUV could no longer be seen directly behind them as Mac pulled the taxi directly behind the dumpsters and slammed on the brakes, bringing the car to a sudden stop.

  Only a few seconds passed before the SUV was spotted driving slowly down the street Mac had just pulled off of. As the SUV began to pass the dumpsters, Mac put the taxi in reverse and inched the car backwards, always keeping the dumpsters between them and the SUV’s line of sight until the SUV had finally passed them completely as it continued heading down the street.

  “Nice driving Louisiana.”

  Mac chuckled at Jack’s compliment.

  “Thanks, Alabama.”

  IX.

  Mac waited another few minutes to make certain the SUV didn’t return, and then proceeded to drive back onto the main roadway and toward the address Tilley had instructed them to arrive at. Ten minutes later, they arrived at a squat white building with a single palm tree that loomed over the right side of the aging structure. A sign hung over the door that read, “Libyan Media Freedom Network”. An older, tan Mercedes 300 was the only vehicle parked in front of the building.

  Minnick pointed toward the palm tree.

  “They have a security camera just to the left of the tree, half inch security bars across the two windows, and the door looks to be a newer Ceco model. Whatever this place is, they’ve taken precautions to protect the people inside.”

  Mac parked the taxi in an alley about three hundred feet away from the tan Mercedes. That way if the SUV that had been following them found it, their location inside the Libyan Media Freedom Network building would be difficult to determine. There were at least another seven buildings within similar distance from the parked taxi.

  “I need you three to set up a perimeter shield, nearest one to be no more than sixty feet from the entrance. Want one of you within eyesight of this location here. If that SUV comes back and checks out the taxi, I want to know who we are dealing with. Are they Libyans, CIA, whatever.”

  Jack offered to remain near the taxi, while Benny and Minnick took locations nearer the parked Mercedes as Mac began to walk toward the building’s entrance. He paused to allow the security camera plenty of time to see him before pushing a small white intercom button housed just to the left of the door. Minnick was right. It was an almost brand new Ceco security door.

  “I’m here to see Ella.”

  A short buzzing sound emitted from the top of the door frame, indicating Mac could now pull the door open. Just inside the door was a small six by six room where another door matching the one outside was located directly in front of where Mac stood. Another security camera was housed in the upper right corner of the small room.

  “Who sent you?”

  The voice came from a small intercom placed in the low ceiling just above Mac’s head.

  “Tilley.”

  The second door opened, leading to a surprisingly well lit and expensively furnished waiting area. Two armed men dressed in matching black dress shirts and khakis stood approximately six feet apart from each other looking back at Mac. They each carried X95 assault rifles, perhaps the most common weapon of choice for Israeli Special Forces. It was a weapon that carried light, but still packed a serious punch, allowing fully automatic, thirty-two round capabilities.

  Each of the men was slightly taller than Mac, and at least ten years younger. Their dark eyes regarded Mac without emotion, a sign of a well trained soldier.

  Mac heard heeled steps approaching from a hallway that opened up from the back left of the room from which emerged a blonde woman of medium height and athletic build. She appeared to be no more than forty years of age, with a somewhat long and narrow face, full lips, and wide, dark eyes that sat under high arching brows. Her hair fell casually over her shoulders as she stopped to look at Mac.

  “Mr. Walker?”

  She spoke his real name, proving to Mac she was in fact in contact with Tilley. Mac nodded his head once back at her.

  “Please follow me.”

  The woman turned and walked back down the hallway from which she had emerged, her steps quick and confident, requiring Mac to move swiftly to catch up. She opened the second door they passed on the right side of the hallway and entered what appeared to be a conference room. It contained a long black metallic desk with a glass top, and several matching black chairs. Unlike the reception area, no other furnishings were in the room, and no artwork hung from the walls.

  “Take a seat, Mr. Walker.”

  Mac sat on one side of the table as the woman took a seat opposite him.

  “Do you know who I am?”

  Mac shook his head.

  �
��No idea, just following the directions Tilley gave me. Care to say how much you know about me?”

  The woman’s mouth curled upward into a slight smile. Though her features were somewhat hard, Mac found her attractive in a she-can-kick-the-shit-out-of-somebody kind of way.

  “I know almost as little about you as you do me. What I do know is that you are in a bit of difficulty since arriving in Benghazi. I also know that I owe your Mr. Tilley a favor. This help I am now providing you is payment for that debt.”

  Mac finally placed her accent. Like the weapons in the reception room, she was Israeli.

  “Whatever help you can provide is appreciated. Right now, we still don’t have any real idea what the hell we’re doing here.”

  “As you were told, my name is Ella. This building you now sit in is a media center…of sorts.”

  Mac smiled.

  “Of course.”

  “We will provide you transport to your safe house Mr. Walker. What you find there, I cannot tell you. Once that transport has been completed, I ask that you not return here. Our business, such that it is, will have been completed. Do you understand?”

  The door to the conference room opened, followed by one of the two armed men from the reception room stepping inside. Though the man’s voice remained calm and measured, Mac noted his eyes betrayed concern.

  “Two black SUVs outside, Ella. They appear to be securing the perimeter.”

  Ella’s eyes burned into Mac.

  “You were followed?”

  Mac nodded.

  “Yeah, thought we had lost them though.”

  Ella tilted her head to the side as her eyebrows raised.

  “It appears you didn’t do such a good job of that, Mr. Walker. Do you have men outside?”

  Mac glanced at the armed man and then looked back at Ella.

  “Three. They’re armed with handguns.”

  Ella leaned over the table, her voice coming out in a seething whisper.

  “And are you better with a gun than you are at not attracting attention and leading trouble right to our door?”

  Mac’s eyes flashed indignation as he met Ella’s stare.

  “I’d say I’m better than fair if it comes to that.”

  Ella offered a cold smile in return.

  “Well then, let’s see…if it comes to that.”

  Ella rose from her chair and walked quickly toward a narrow door near the back left corner of the conference room. She opened it up and withdrew another of the X95 assault rifles and threw it to Mac.

  “Mr. Walker, this is Udi. You will be accompanying him to the roof. You are to follow his lead Mr. Walker, not the other way around – do you understand?”

  Mac looked at the armed man and then nodded back to Ella.

  “Hey, your house, your rules, so what are you doing?”

  Ella calmly pulled her hair back into a pony tail and straightened her black blouse and matching skirt.

  “I am going outside to see what these assholes want.”

  Mac’s mouth dropped open in shock as he watched Ella make her way down the hall and back outside as Udi motioned for Mac to follow him further down the hallway which led to a narrow stairwell with steps leading up.

  A few seconds later both Mac and Udi were lying atop the flat roof on their stomachs looking down at the two black SUVs as Ella approached three men who stood just outside the building’s entrance. Mac scanned the area for any sign of his men, but wherever they were, they remained hidden.

  As Ella approached the three men, four more emerged from the SUVs, two of them armed with assault rifles. All of the men were casually dressed, and all appeared to be white. Mac’s eyes strained to make out the face of the man Ella was speaking with, a short, balding man who was familiar to him.

  Densmore. Mark Densmore.

  Mark Densmore was FBI. Mac had crossed paths with him nearly ten years ago when Mac was still doing Project Icon work out of the Department of Defense.

  What the hell is FBI doing in Benghazi?

  Maybe Densmore had transferred over to CIA or NSA. That kind of transfer wasn’t common, but it did happen.

  “We have more company.”

  Udi had spotted a large military transport truck carrying what appeared to be at least twenty armed Libyan militia approaching the SUVs. Densmore’s men noticed the truck soon after Udi did, and moved quickly to the other side of their SUVs.

  “Get Ella back inside, now!”

  Udi had spoken into a small handheld communicator to the other armed Israeli man who stood just inside the building entrance. One of Densmore’s men grabbed Ella’s right arm and was attempting to push her toward one of their vehicles. Mac watched in admiration as Ella’s left palm smoothly smashed into the lower part of the man’s nose, sending him reeling backward. The other armed Israeli who Udi had just communicated with, reached Ella and placed himself between her and the SUVs.

  Mac counted up Densmore’s men. They totaled seven. Two were armed with assault rifles, the remaining five were holding handguns. The military transport truck now sat twenty yards from the SUVs as its occupants jumped out onto the ground. Mac quickly counted twenty three of them – all carrying assault rifles. Their behavior, the way they walked so casually toward Densmore’s men, indicated the Libyan militants were not well trained, as was so often the case in this part of the world. They may have had numbers, but they knew shit about tactics.

  Interestingly, Ella stood her own ground as she began to yell out in Arabic at the approaching militants.

  “We want no trouble here! These men were just about to leave. They were simply asking a few questions.”

  One of the taller militants, a very thin and haggard looking older man began to approach Ella, but was stopped by the Israeli’s X95 pointing directly at him. The militant, armed with what Mac believed to be an older model AK-47, lifted his weapon to the side with his right hand while holding up his left hand palm forward.

  “We are not here about you. Your news articles are of no interest to us. But these Americans, hiding like dogs, driving around our city, stirring up trouble, thinking they are above our laws, they must be held accountable. Come out from behind your cars cowardly Americans. Come out so that we can see your faces.”

  Ella stepped toward the older militant leader with both of her hands held up in front of her.

  “Nobody wants any trouble here. Hasn’t Libya seen enough of that kind of trouble? These men were just leaving, and I think it would be a very good idea if you and your men did the same.”

  “What does the Jewish bitch know about Libya’s troubles? Go back to hell, Jew bitch!”

  The comment was shouted by a large, heavy set militant with a massive dark beard and an unruly head of black and grey hair. Mac noted murmuring from other militia. They had not known that Ella was Israeli.

  “Kill the Jewish pig bitch! Cut out her tongue for thinking she can tell our men what to do!”

  Several of the Libyans cheered the comment. Mac sensed the situation was reaching critical. He saw several other vehicles slowing down as their drivers leaned out to see what was going on. Within minutes, they would be dealing with much more than the twenty odd armed militia members. They could have an enraged Muslim mob on their hands.

  Ella, also sensing the heightened danger she was now in, began to back slowly toward the building’s entrance.

  “Where are you going, Jew bitch?”

  Mac watched as Densmore and two of his men cut off Ella’s path back to the building. Udi was now pointing his gun into Densmore’s back.

  “Easy there, we ain’t quite at the point of no return just yet.”

  Udi glared back at Mac as he continued to point his weapon at Densmore.

  “I don’t take orders from you. You’re supposed to follow my lead, remember?”

  The older Libyan who had first spoken to Ella turned around, trying to calm his men.

  “We are not here for bloodshed. We are here to tell the Americans to get out of
our country and to go back home and leave Libya to Libyans.”

  “Fuck the Americans and fuck the Jews!”

  Others among the Libyans began to repeat the words.

  “Fuck the Americans and fuck the Jews!”

  Densmore finally appeared to realize he was in just as much danger as Ella and her men were, as he trotted back behind one of the SUV’s, yelling into a cell phone that he needed help. Mac wondered who the FBI agent was talking to.