by Richard Bard
Battista listened to his commander, struggling with the impulse to put a bullet in the man’s head for his failure. He’d already been outmaneuvered once by the shrewd American. It must not happen again.
Using a red marker on the plastic-coated map, Abdullah plotted his new plan. “The Americans have cornered themselves. They relied on the element of surprise. In that, they have failed.”
Abdullah drew a large X in the clearing in front of the upper main cavern entrance. “Their target is here.” He drew three separate red arrows on the map, each one converging at the X in the clearing. “Our main force is moving up the mountain from the south here. Our twenty-man team will eliminate their rear guard and flank them from the north, right here. And we still have two dozen men just inside the cavern here.”
His confidence growing, Abdullah turned back to his leader. “They will be crushed like bugs.”
Battista considered Abdullah’s rapid response to the American’s actions. Was it enough? Surely, with over two hundred armed men at his disposal, the Americans would be easily defeated. He scanned the other men in the room, wondering who would replace Abdullah should the need arise. Except for Carlo, not one of them met his gaze. Cowards.
Battista’s confidence was shaken. Wanting insurance against something else going wrong, he turned to Carlo and said, “Get a locator chip from the lab, and hide it on the little girl.” The locators were linked to sensors positioned throughout the facility. If the girl was moved, they could track her through the tunnels.
***
3:05 a.m.
Jake didn’t dare stop to catch his breath. He raced after the beam of his flashlight, moving fast while navigating the projecting rocks that covered the uneven floor. The narrow tunnel twisted its way deeper into the mountain, rising at a steep incline. Eventually, he had to grip the small flashlight in his teeth to free his hands for the climb.
The deeper he climbed into the mountain, the more the weight of the walls seemed to press in on him. The claustrophobic panic began with the feeling that he couldn’t quite catch his breath. The sensation fueled his fears.
What if there’s a cave-in? What if I become trapped and can’t move? What—
Jake jerked his head to shove those thoughts aside. They would suck him into a downward spiral that he had to avoid at all costs. He needed to focus on something else, fast. His mind raced through replacement images like a high-speed slide show: the photos of the unusual glyphs he had found in Battista’s office, Francesca’s soft lips, the hope in Sarafina’s eyes, Carlo’s leer as he violated Francesca’s smooth neck with his knife.
The incessant vibration grew stronger with each step he took—
He tripped, falling hard to the earthen floor. The flashlight went flying, and he felt the small receiver in his ear dislodge and drop away. The light flicked off, and Jake was plunged into complete darkness. The wheeze from his ragged breathing seemed to bounce off the walls, pressing in around him. Beads of sweat stung his eyes.
Fear tightened his gut. His mind was no longer able to block the memories…
The guards at the POW training camp were seriously pissed off at him for embarrassing them with his escape. He’d been caned, tased, beat up, and starved—anything they could do “to wipe that grin off your face.” But he held out, knowing he was going home soon.
That last night in the camp they’d shoved him into that tiny collapsible plywood box again, his knees pulled to his chest, his head bowed, the top of the box keeping him from straightening his neck, the four sides pressed against his back, legs, and curled toes. The rule was, they’d let you out when you screamed—or in an hour, whichever came first. But this time the guard had said, “Hey, asshole, no one knows you’re here but me, and I’m the only one on duty. You can scream all you want, but no one can hear you and I ain’t coming back. Have fun, college boy.”
Jake lasted an hour and a half before he finally screamed. It was the first time in his life a claustrophobic panic held him firmly in its grip.
No one had answered.
For seven hell-filled hours.
The fear and panic Jake had felt during those long hours in the box rushed back to meet him, piercing his guts and threatening to loosen his bowels. He scrambled across the tunnel floor in search of the flashlight, ignoring the small crunch of the earbud under his knee.
His hands moved in wide arcs across the rock until his fingers found the cool plastic sleeve of the flashlight. Gripping it in shaking hands, he slid the switch back and forth several times.
Broken.
He made sure the lens was screwed tight, hammered the flashlight against his thigh, and tried it again.
The light flicked on. Jake’s chest heaved in relief. He filled his lungs through his nose, held his breath for three seconds, and then exhaled through his mouth. He repeated the process, calming his nerves. After a handful of seconds, he swiveled the light around and found the remains of the tiny inner-ear device. It was crushed beyond repair.
He ignored it and kept moving. But moments later he turned a corner to find the tunnel blocked by a jumble of huge boulders. The only way past was through a round fissure in the ceiling. He shivered at the sight of it; it was about as wide as a fifty-gallon drum. He aimed the flashlight inside. It seemed to go on for quite a ways, angling upward and in the same general direction as the primary tunnel. But it also seemed to narrow at the far end. He trembled. It was all he could do to poke his head inside to get a better look. A current of air brushed his skin. The air wouldn’t flow like that if it were a dead end. Could he do it? Did he have any choice?
Man up, you pussy!
Wrapping his mind around thoughts of Francesca, he gripped the small flashlight with his teeth and heaved himself up into the tiny space. His feet kicked the air until he was all the way in.
Jake crawled forward through the tiny space as fast as his limbs would take him. The walls scraped at his shoulders.
Think of Francesca…
The ceiling dropped to the point that he had to flatten himself to keep moving. He forced himself forward while his heart pounded in his ears.
***
3:06 a.m.
Tark knew that without his helmet, Willie could no longer hear the team’s radio transmissions. He gave his injured partner a quick update about the unexpected upper tunnel entrance, adding, “Snake and Ripper are on their way to back us up.”
Steadying himself, Willie panned his weapon toward the rocks. “I’m good to go.”
Tark lifted two satchel charges from the equipment stack and slung them over his shoulder. Willie followed closely on his heels. They worked their way across the ledge and up the rocky incline.
With one eye on the path and the other on the monocular display, Tark weaved through the rocks toward the small cluster of red dots forming above them. The flashing green dots representing Ripper and Snake were on a converging course on the upper ridge. Tark coordinated their movements over the radio.
Crouching low, he halted at the sound of agitated Dari voices around the next cluster of boulders. Using hand signals, he motioned to Willie that there were four bad guys. He exchanged whispered words over the radio and unclipped a flash-bang grenade from his combat vest, knowing that Ripper and Snake were doing so as well. He heard Willie heave a deep breath behind him, managing his pain in preparation for the assault. Tark whispered a soft countdown into his microphone. “Three, two, one…”
Tark flung the grenade over the rock and closed his eyes. A second later there were three bone-rattling concussions that he knew were accompanied by brilliant flashes of iris-burning light.
Willie was first around the corner, his HK on full auto and ripping through two of the disoriented terrorists. Tark, Snake, and Ripper were close behind, each burst from their assault rifles finding its mark.
Tark immediately realized their mistake.
Though only four of Battista’s followers had been visible on his HUD, there were at least a dozen more
hovering inside the throat of the tunnel, out of view of the drone circling above. Though many of the remaining tangos were rubbing their eyes from the dizzying effects of the flash bangs, a few of them at the back of the tunnel had already recovered. One of them raised a grenade launcher toward the team.
Halfway to the cave entrance, Willie shouted, “RPG!”
Even as Tark skidded to a halt and dove back toward the protection of the rocks, he knew none of them were going to make it. They were too bunched together. For a brief instant, as he tumbled through the air for cover, Tark’s eyes found Willie’s. His partner glanced back at him over his bandaged shoulder. In that brief moment when time seemed to stand still as he stared death in the face, Tark’s brain absorbed what was about to happen. Willie wasn’t taking cover. Instead, he launched himself straight toward the tunnel, his HK blazing a path before him. His savage war cry tore through the night.
Three tangos toward the front of the pack flew backward from the spray of burning lead. Behind them, the soldier with the RPG adjusted his aim toward the raging American demon.
The rocket-propelled grenade hit the ground at Willie’s feet just as he crossed the tunnel entrance.
He was killed instantly.
The explosion was deafening, debris and shrapnel filling the air just as Tark ducked behind the cover of the rocks. His agonizing cry over his friend’s sacrifice was washed away by the concussive blast. Ripper crouched alongside him, drawing in heavy breaths, his face a mask of rage. Dazed, Tark watched Ripper’s hands move in a blur to load a fuel-air grenade into the launcher on the underside of his assault rifle. He roared at Tark, “Stay down!”
In one swift motion, Ripper stood up over the rock, launched the forty-millimeter thermobaric grenade into the tunnel, and ducked back down next to Tark.
A clatter of metal impacting rock echoed from inside the tunnel. The thunderous blast that followed expanded into a roiling 5,000 °F inferno that sucked the oxygen from the air with enough backdraft to lift a man off his feet. Several of Battista’s soldiers were yanked into the blast. The mouth of the tunnel flashed with a dense wall of flames, incinerating everything in its path.
Even behind the cover of their rock, Tark felt the air fill with heat, as if a huge oven door had been opened behind them. The smell of burned meat hung in the air. Death screams from those unfortunate enough not to die instantly reverberated from the mouth of the cavern.
Snake appeared around the rock. “The ones at the rear of the pack ran deeper into the cave. They’ll be back.”
With Snake and Ripper at his side for cover, Tark ran into the entrance, grimacing as he ran past Willie’s twisted and charred remains. He set two satchel charges on either side of the first bend. One would be enough for a cave-in. Two would make sure it couldn’t be cleared for several days.
On the way out, Snake and Ripper picked up Willie’s body. Tark tried to stop them; he wanted to do it himself.
“Hey, man,” Snake said. “He saved our asses too.” He motioned to the tunnel. “Besides, you got work to do.”
There were shouts from deep inside the tunnel, and Snake and Ripper moved down the hill fast, Willie’s body held between them. Tark pulled up behind a rock outcropping at the second twist in the trail. With his back to the granite, he depressed the red button on the detonator.
The deep rumble from the subterranean explosions shook the ground under Tark’s feet. A thick wave of dust and gravel blasted from the mouth of the tunnel, pelting the rocks around him.
***
3:10 a.m.
Battista’s anger surged at the sound of the twin explosions. “What the hell was that?”
Abdullah held his hand up as he pulled his buzzing comm unit from his belt and held it to his ear. He hit the transmit button. “Report.”
The expression on Abdullah’s face morphed from anger to fear. He lowered the comm unit. “The Americans blew up the mouth of the upper tunnel. There was a massive cave-in. The tunnel is sealed. Half of our men were killed. The remaining ten are returning here.”
Battista’s voice was controlled but menacing. “So, your plan to flank the Americans has failed.”
In a blur of motion, Battista pulled up his 9mm Makarov and shot Abdullah in the forehead. The man’s head snapped backward, and he slumped to the floor. The crack of the weapon froze everyone in place; the ping of the shell casing as it hit the floor was the only sound in the room. Battista holstered the pistol. He motioned to Carlo. “What are you waiting for? Get that locator on the child immediately.”
Carlo nodded and left the room.
Battista grabbed Abdullah’s communicator from the floor and issued a series of orders that stopped most of his men from continuing up the narrow pass toward the clearing. He ordered fifty of them to backtrack into the lower caverns to use a little-known tunnel that led to the upper caverns. Most of the remaining men—over one hundred of them—would take various paths up and over the mountain to surround the clearing. It would take much longer, but they would not likely be ambushed in getting there. Only twenty of his men would continue up the narrow pass, where the Americans were surely expecting them.
Battista turned to one of his subcommanders. “Get ten men and meet me in the security room.”
***
3:10 a.m.
Jake held back his panic, his thoughts embracing Francesca as he squeezed through the narrow opening.
Twin violent explosions shook the ground, stopping him cold. He heard the faint rumble of what sounded like a cave-in up ahead. Pebbles danced on the rock floor in front of his face. A thin mist of dust filled the space. Just as the shaking began to subside, a boulder dislodged itself from the ceiling behind him, pinning his feet.
Jake’s heart leaped.
From a place that he’d prayed had been long dead and buried, Jake let out a shrieking cry. “Francesca!”
Jake?
Her voice in his head? Francesca?
Jake, I feel you.
I’m coming!
They know you’re—
Her voice faded away.
Francesca! Can you hear me?
The brief connection was lost. Jake drowned his fears in a flood of determination. She was alive!
Using his elbows, fingers, and toes, Jake crawled out from under the boulder and snaked his way down the narrowing walls of the tube. At its tightest point, he had to exhale in order to collapse his girth enough to wriggle through.
After that, the tunnel widened.
A glow of light shone from an opening in the floor about five yards ahead. He switched off the flashlight and inched forward. Peeking through the dust-filled air of the opening, he found himself looking at a loose pile of rocks and dirt on the floor of an earthen corridor carved out of the rock. Its ceiling was covered with air ducts, conduit, and fluorescent lighting that stretched in both directions.
The cave-in had provided Jake his way in.
He needed to find the security room.
Chapter 40
Hindu Kush Mountains, Afghanistan - 3:12 a.m.
JAKE DROPPED TO THE FLOOR of the tunnel. The natural sweep of the walls and ceiling told him it was not man-made. The floor and walls had been cleared and smoothed by man’s hand, but the basic structure had been Mother Nature’s doing. The interior diameter was about the same as a commuter bus, and Jake had the sense that the curving corridor snaked a fair distance in either direction. Fluorescent fixtures suspended from the ceiling drove away the shadows. Jake tasted moistness in the air.
An echo of angry voices and pounding feet rushed at him from around the bend ahead. He turned to run but thought better of it. He’d never make it out of sight by the time the source of the voices cleared the corner. Resisting the temptation to grab his Beretta from the folds of his dishdashah, he dropped his hands to his sides and walked toward the noise with an air of authority.
It was time to put his new skills to the test.
The group of men running toward him loo
ked like they had just escaped the bowels of hell and the devil was still on their heels. Most of them were covered in dark soot. Several bled from a score of minor lacerations. One man had blistering burns on his nose and forehead; his beard was scorched. They were all heavily armed. Jake figured they were the remnants of the group that had tried to flank the team through the upper exit. He prayed the explosions he heard had sealed it.
Stepping in their path, Jake held his palm in front of him. The group skidded to a stop. One man pushed his way to the front, his expression furious.
Jake shouted in the man’s face in his native tongue. “What has taken you so long?”
The man’s initial expression of anger wilted under the force of Jake’s words. “But—”
“I don’t want to hear your excuses. You should be there already. We are under attack!”
“Yes, sir!”
Pointing at two men toward the back of the pack, Jake said, “You two, come with me to the security room. The rest of you, on your way while there is still time. Move. Now!”
Jake glared at the first group of men as they ran by. None of them met his gaze. The last two waited for his lead. He motioned with his head for them to move out in front of him. “Quickly!”
The two men hurried down the tunnel toward the security room with Jake on their heels. So far, so good.
At the first fork the larger group split to the right. From their comments, Jake suspected they were going to reinforce the troops at the main entrance. Jake and his two recruits took the left branch, which sloped down to a lower level.
He overheard one of the men asking the other if he knew Jake’s identity. Before the other man answered, Jake barked at them. “Pick up the pace. Lives are at stake!” Jake laced his words with a focused stream of embedded emotion. He mentally attacked the two men, sending tendrils of fear into their thoughts, willing them to avoid upsetting the demon behind them. One of them sped up. The other staggered for an instant and then sprinted to catch up with his partner.