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

by D. W. Ulsterman

  “Hello, Mr. Tilley. I went ahead and made a few calls on what may or may not be going on in Benghazi these days. You have a minute?”

  Tilley pulled the car over to the side of the road.

  “Yes sir, go ahead.”

  “Well…there is a ton of CIA activity down there. Now what’s interesting to me is that there’s little of that kind of activity in Tripoli, which normally you would think that’s where all the acronyms would be running around. Not so. Benghazi has CIA, NSA, British intelligence, Italian intelligence, the Russians and Chinese have people on the ground there, Turkey, the Saudis, and perhaps most interesting, a significant uptick in U.N. SitCen activity around there.”

  Tilley wasn’t sure what the general was referring to when he mentioned SitCen.

  “Sir, what is SitCen?”

  The general cleared his throat. Tilley could tell the retired military man was enjoying this cloak and dagger stuff.

  “Their situation center. It was developed in the 1990’s and coordinates with all of the intelligence agencies in the world, at least all the major ones. They have what are called Information and Research officers who work within the SitCen. These people have access to…well to everywhere. And right now, they are crawling all over Benghazi apparently. Not Tripoli – Benghazi.”

  “Why?”

  General Vannatter paused for a moment before answering.

  “Don’t know that, Mr. Tilley. Wish I did, because it sure does seem peculiar. Now something I forgot to mention regarding SitCen and what they do, and what they are probably doing in Benghazi. One of their primary directives, especially in more recent years, is monitoring arms trafficking throughout the world.”

  Tilley was nodding his head as he sat in his car, the sound of passing vehicles threatening to drown out the general’s words.

  “Ok, yeah, that makes sense, because that’s what my team is doing in Benghazi. At least that’s what I’ve been told. They’re monitoring potential arms dealing. Am I missing the significance here?”

  The general continued.

  “The significance is that, according to my source, the whole department is rampant with people connected to arms dealing. That they aren’t just monitoring weapons distribution, they’re trying to control it. They’re organizing it.”

  The concept shocked Tilley, and he didn’t shock easily.

  “What? The U.N. is dealing in weapons? Why?”

  The general’s tone softened just a bit, as if he was growing tired.

  “Well, the way it was put to me was that it was a newer program for…I’m trying to remember how he said it. It was a new program for a New United Nations, something like that.”

  Tilley felt a headache coming on fast. He remembered Dasha Al Marri, when explaining the assignment to Mac, using the exact description of the need for a New United Nations.

  “General, could you do me another favor? I’m sorry for the bother, sir but…I could use the help.”

  The general’s response was immediate and no longer sounded tired.

  “Absolutely, Mr. Tilley, whatever you need.”

  “It’s a name. Can you have someone run a check on her? The name is Dasha Al Marri.”

  Tilley could hear General Vannatter’s breathing quicken.

  “Dasha Al Marri? I knew her father. High ranking official in the Dubai government. Oil money, and lots of it. He was a big part of the relationship between Venezuela and the United Arab Emirates. Rumor was that a good chunk of all those Venezuelan oil profits went right back to the Arabs.”

  Tilley pressed for more information.

  “Anything else you know about her?”

  “No, like I said, knew her father. I can have her checked out though. She involved in this Benghazi assignment of yours?”

  Tilley glanced in his rearview mirror, believing he saw a car pulling behind him. Nothing was there though.

  “Yeah, she’s basically putting up the funds. At least, that’s how I understand it. She’s with the U.N.”

  The general chuckled.

  “Way we seem to be heading, every man woman and child is going to be answering to the U.N. whether they want to or not.”

  Tilley glanced back in his rearview mirror again.

  Someone was behind his car.

  XV.

  “So what’s the plan, Mac?”

  Mac looked at Benny again, appreciative of how he was working to diffuse the growing animosity with Jack.

  “Like you said Benny, we keep our shit together. We watch the compound across the street and report back to Tilley. That’s the assignment. If we get termination orders, then…well, we’ll deal with that when we need to. For now, we’ll just be little house sitters.”

  Benny looked over at Jack, who continued to glare back at Mac.

  “That sound ok with you, Alabama?”

  Jack raised himself up to his full height of six foot three and inhaled deeply while closing his eyes. When his eyes re-opened he shrugged and offered a small smile.

  “Yeah – whatever. Like you said, we haven’t been told to kill anyone yet, so at this point, we’re just doing surveillance. If they want to pay us for that, that’s fine by me.”

  Mac heard a shrill whistle coming from upstairs. It was Minnick signaling them.

  Jack grabbed one of the sniper rifles and bounded upstairs, taking the steps three at a time as Mac and Benny followed close behind. They arrived in the upstairs bedroom where Minnick remained watching the compound from the balcony through one of the pairs of military grade high powered binoculars as he described what he was seeing.

  “More vehicles entering the compound, three large transport trucks, all with United Nations Food Relief identifications on them. There’s an unmarked black sedan in the front and another one in the back. Drivers of the transport trucks appear to be Middle Eastern, possibly Libyan, the drivers of the sedans are white. All the vehicles are now parked in front of the compound entrance. There’s at least nine or ten individuals moving around the facility. They appear to be unloading crates. Can’t quite make out the identification on the crates, but I think they’re the same United Nations Food Relief emblems that are on the transport trucks.”

  Mac stepped next to Minnick who then handed him another pair of binoculars. Looking through them, he was able to confirm what Minnick had just reported. Mac paid particular attention to the three white men who he assumed had emerged from the unmarked black sedans.

  “Those guys are definitely some of ours, possibly CIA. Were there three or four who came out of the sedans?”

  Minnick lowered his binoculars and rubbed his eyes.

  “Four. The other one went inside the main house of the compound.”

  Mac focused the binoculars on the main house entrance, waiting to see who would walk out. He was rewarded moments later with the figure of Mark Densmore bounding down the stone entrance steps, the same man they had seen outside Ella’s building in Benghazi. A man Mac last knew to be an FBI agent.

  Walking alongside Densmore was a well dressed white man who appeared to be in his late forties. He was of slight build, but moved gracefully, and with purpose. It was the movement one acquires from certain training. Movement Mac most often associated with CIA. Minnick was thinking the same thing.

  “The guy on the left reeks of CIA, Mac.”

  Mac lowered his binoculars and stepped back into the bedroom.

  “Yeah, he sure does. The other one he’s walking next to is a guy named Mark Densmore. Last I knew of him, he was FBI. He was at the little riot of ours in Benghazi. One of them who pulled up in the SUVs.”

  Benny stepped onto the balcony, grabbing Mac’s binoculars as he did so.

  “And you say he’s FBI? Did you tell Tilley about him?”

  Mac nodded as his mind worked out the possible scenarios of what was going on in that compound across the road. The food relief trucks were clearly a ruse. The chances of them carrying weapons would seem likely. The CIA’s involvement was not so surprising
either. Shifting weapons around the globe was not uncommon for that organization as they worked to topple one regime and build up another. It was Densmore’s presence in Benghazi that Mac found most odd.

  “Yeah, I told Tilley. He said he’d get back to me on it.”

  Minnick’s hand motioned to Mac.

  “Gonna want to see this. Mr. CIA and the other guy are having words.”

  Mac moved quickly back to the balcony as Minnick handed him his binoculars. Just as described, Mark Densmore and the other man who they believed to be CIA were nearly nose to nose at the bottom of the main house steps. Mac noted how it was Densmore who appeared to be the more dominant presence, and he was soon proven correct as the other man stepped back and lowered his head, clearly communicating a more passive position.

  “Looks like Densmore’s in charge over there.”

  Benny, who was also watching the brief altercation between the two men, concurred.

  “No doubt about that.”

  The sedans and transport trucks were already making their way back out of the compound, pulling out onto the road at considerable speed. Mac focused his binoculars on Densmore, who sat in the passenger seat of the trailing black sedan. As Mac did so, Densmore’s head turned and he appeared to be looking directly back at Mac through the vehicle’s passenger window. The distance between them was nearly three hundred yards apart, so Mac knew the other man couldn’t actually see him, but Densmore continued to stare at Mac’s location on the safe house balcony.

  Benny lowered his binoculars and glanced at Mac.

  “You see that? He was looking right at us. He knows we’re here.”

  Mac knew Benny was right. Though he may not have been able to see them clearly, Mark Densmore just sent them a message. He knew the compound was being watched and he just let them know he knew.

  Now if only I could figure out what the hell that means.

  “I’d love to be able to follow those vehicles and see where they’re going.”

  Mac’s mind struggled momentarily to refocus on Benny’s words.

  “What?”

  Benny tipped his head in the direction of the departing transport trucks and black sedans.

  “It would be nice to know where they are coming from. My guess would be the airport since they had those U.N. markings, but then again, who knows?”

  Benny’s reference to the Benghazi airport snapped a name back into Mac’s head.

  Louis Danton – the name Angelo Moretti had given me in case something went wrong with the assignment and we needed to get out of Benghazi fast. Moretti had described Danton as the ranking U.N. humanitarian official at the Benina Airport.

  Given Danton’s name came from Moretti, who had tried to have Mac’s team killed after they left the airport, meant he couldn’t be trusted of course, but knowing more about who he was and what his true purpose in Benghazi could be would go a long way toward giving Mac and his team some much needed answers and improve their chances of getting out of this assignment alive.

  Mac decided that at that point, he and his team needed two things. First, was a mode of transportation, and second, was a person who they could trust for information who had on the ground experience here in Benghazi. Mac could think of only one person to possibly meet that need – Ella Lerner.

  Mac walked back into the bedroom and folded his arms across his chest.

  “Listen up, gentlemen. We have some work to do tonight. We need a vehicle, and then we need to reach out to Ella again. I’m pretty sure she has some answers for us.”

  Jack grinned. It was nice to see the big man eager to do something.

  “A little recon, Mac?”

  Mac nodded.

  “Something like that. You wanna help me to secure the vehicle?”

  Jack’s grin grew wider.

  “Hell yeah, better than sitting around here. What do you have in mind?”

  Mac’s eyes wandered back toward the balcony outside.

  “This neighborhood has a lot of upscale homes. Some of them are sure to be vacant, with cars parked inside garages. We find one those, and bring the car back here. Simple plan for simple minds, right?’

  Jack’s eyes openly communicated his approval.

  “Simple-simple-simple is how I like it. Mac.”

  Mac looked to Benny and Minnick.

  “You two will stay back here. I want one set of eyes on the compound, and the other guy providing security for our position. We have night vision capability, so no excuses - no surprises. Densmore made it clear he knows we’re here, and what exactly that means isn’t clear, so until then, we are seriously watching each other’s backs.”

  Mac glanced down at his watch.

  “A few more hours till nightfall, then you and me are on the move.”

  XVI.

  Tilley watched the form of a man slowly moving toward the driver’s side of his BMW. Whoever it was, he didn’t appear too concerned about concealing his approach, so Tilley assumed the man posed no real immediate threat to him. Glancing out his right rearview mirror, Tilley was able to spot the man’s vehicle parked behind his own, but farther off to the right side of the road. It was a newer, black Mercedes sedan.

  A hand rapped lightly on the BMW’s driver side window. Tilley lowered the window halfway, his eyes looking up at an unsmiling and very familiar face. It was Nigel, head of security for Dasha Al Marri, the woman responsible for funding Mac Walker’s assignment in Benghazi.

  “Hello, Mr. Tilley. Dasha would very much like you to join her for a brief conversation in her car. Please do not bring any weapons with you.”

  Tilley tried hard to appear casual, but he could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he responded to Nigel’s request.

  “I’m not armed, but I am a bit busy. Will this take long?”

  Nigel’s face remained unreadable, his eyes looking back down at Tilley without emotion.

  “It will take however long Dasha wishes it to take, Mr. Tilley. Please…let me escort you to the car.”

  Something in the tone of Nigel’s voice convinced Tilley he had no choice but to comply. Turning the BMW’s engine off, Tilley opened the door and stepped outside as D.C. traffic continued to drive past.

  “Right this way.”

  Nigel, though shorter than Tilley, gave off the aura of a man quite capable and more than willing, to kill. Tilley knew the type well. He considered Mac and his team to be cut from a very similar cloth. Nigel opened the left rear passenger door and motioned for Tilley to step inside.

  Dasha sat resplendent in a silver designer jacket and matching pants, her dark hair again tied neatly behind her head in a tight bun. As Tilley looked at her and attempted a smile, Dasha’s eyes indicated she was in no mood for a friendly chat.

  “This morning I was in my apartment in New York, Mr. Tilley, very much enjoying NOT being in this pig shit hole of a city. Do you know why I am here now, sitting with you having this ridiculous conversation?”

  Ray Tilley shook his head.

  “No Ms…uh…Dasha, no I don’t. I assume it’s related to the Benghazi assignment.”

  Dasha’s lips curled into a sneer as she leaned toward Tilley, her dark eyes smoldering with just-under-the-surface rage.

  “Yes, Mr. Tilley, it most certainly is related to the Benghazi assignment, as you call it. I was told to return here to speak with you personally, so that I can communicate to you in no uncertain terms, how very much my organization is expecting your team to complete their assignment per our agreement. I don’t appreciate having to be bothered with such things Mr. Tilley. Not one bit.”

  Ray Tilley found his own anger now emerging.

  Who the hell does this woman think she is?

  “Maybe you could let me know exactly what it is we are supposed to be doing in Benghazi so my team has a better chance of meeting that obligation. It seems clear now that it intends to go beyond a simple surveillance operation.”

  Dasha leaned back into her seat, her perfectly manicured hands fol
ding gracefully over her crossed legs.

  “Yes, Mr. Tilley, it quite possibly will involve more than surveillance. You knew that to be a possibility from the beginning. Why then are you now bothering Mr. Mardian with questions and threats of bringing your team home prior to completion of the assignment?”

  Tilley didn’t back down, now turning himself toward Dasha, his voice, though not shouting, increasing in volume.

  “Because if you expect us to kill Americans, Dasha you better damn well let us know who and more importantly, why. So far, you haven’t told us shit, and I’ve got four men sitting in that hellhole of Benghazi wondering what the is going on! I want answers, and they deserve answers!”