by Wolf Riedel
ALLIES:
THE GULF
WOLF RIEDEL
— § —
Allies: The Gulf is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is coincidental.
Smashwords Edition
Text, cover, cover photo, maps, Copyright © 2016 by Wolf Riedel – All rights reserved.
Excerpt from Allies: The Coast Copyright © 2016 by Wolf Riedel – All rights reserved.
Excerpt from Dawn Flight Copyright © 2014 by Wolf Riedel – All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any process—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of the copyright owner. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without permission of the copyright owner is illegal and punishable by law.
eBook Smashwords Edition ISBN 978-1-926521-01-5
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CONTENTS
Copyright
Also By Wolf Riedel
Glossary
Map 1 - West Central Florida
Map 2 - Tampa Bay Region
Map 3 - Southwest Zabul
Map 4 - Northeast Mexico
Map 5 - Reynosa Mexico
Prologue
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Epilogue
Excerpt from Allies: The Coast
Excerpt from Dawn Flight
Author’s Notes
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also By Wolf Riedel
Allies: Anaconda – A Novella
Allies: The Inquiry
Allies: The Trial
Allies: The Rivers
Allies: The Bay
Allies: The Gulf
Allies: The Coast (Coming 2016)
Dawn Flight (Coming 2016)
— § —
For Kathy
MAP 1 - West Central Florida
MAP 2 - Tampa Bay Region
MAP 3 - Southwest Zabul
MAP 4 - Northeast Mexico
MAP 5 - Reynosa, Mexico
GLOSSARY
AFOSI - Air Force Office of Special Investigations
ANA - Afghan National Army
ANP - Afghan National Police
AO - Area of Operations
AQ - al-Qaeda - Islamist terrorist organization
BCT - Basic Combat Training also Brigade Combat Team
CENTCOM - Central Command (aka USCENTCOM)
CFSOCC - Combined Forces Special Operations Component Command - forward deployed sub-headquarters of SOCCENT (aka SOCCENT FWD)
CG - Commanding General
CJSOTF-A - Combined Joint Special Operations Task Force – Afghanistan
CJSOTF-AP - Combined Joint Special Operations Task Force - Arabian Peninsula
Clica - literally “the clique” in Latino gang slang “our gang”
CO - Commanding Officer
Delta - 1st Special Forces Operational Detachment Delta
DFAC - Dining Facility
ETT - Embedded Training Team
FOB - Forward Operating Base - either a location or, pre-2007, a deployed SF ODC
GMV - Ground Mobility Vehicle (SOF version of HMMWV)
HMMWV - High Mobility Multipurpose Wheeled Vehicle
IED – Improvised Explosive Device
Intel - intelligence (aka int)
ISAF - International Security Assistance Force
ISI - Inter-Service Intelligence - Pakistani intelligence services
ISTAR - Intelligence, Surveillance, Target Acquisition, and Reconnaissance
JAG - Judge Advocate General
JTF 2 - Joint Task Force 2
JSOC- Joint Special Operations Command
KAF - Kandahar Air Field
Kandak - Afghan term for battalion
LAV or LAV III - Light Armored Vehicle (aka Stryker in US)
M4 - US 5.56 mm assault carbine
M9 - US military version of 9 mm Beretta 92FS pistol
M11 - US military version of 9 mm SIG Sauer P228 pistol
MARSOC - US Marine Corps Forces Special Operations Command
MSOC-F - Marine Special Operations Company Foxtrot
MBITR - AN/PRC 148 Multiband Inter/Intra Team Radio
Masjid - mosque
MVT - Medium Value Target
MXS - Maintenance Squadron (US Air Force)
NCIS - Naval Criminal Investigative Service
NDHQ - National Defence Headquarters
ODA - Operational Detachment Alpha – 12 man Special Forces Team
ODB - Operational Detachment Bravo – Special Forces Company Headquarters
ODC - Operational Detachment Charlie – Special Forces Battalion Headquarters (when deployed termed FOB and, starting in May 2007, SOTF)
PB - Patrol Base
R22eR - Royal vingt-deuxième Regiment (aka Van Doos)
Ranger - member or element of U.S. Army 75th Ranger Regiment
Raza - literally “the race”, in Latino gang slang, “the family, the group, the gang”
RCR - Royal Canadian Regiment (aka Royals)
RPG - Rocket Propelled Grenade
SF - Special Forces – members and elements belonging to a SFG(A) – not to be confused with the term SOF – special operations forces which refers to the wider community to which the SF and other units such as Delta, SEALs, JTF 2 etc belong
SFG(A) - Special Forces Group (Airborne) (aka Green Berets)
Sicario - hitman, enforcer, contract-killer
S3 - staff officer/section - operations
SOPMOD - Special Operations Peculiar Modification
SOT-A - Special Operations Team Alpha - low-level signals intelligence intercept teams within a SFG(A)
TAC - Tactical command post
TOC - Tactical Operations Center
Taliban - armed Islamist militants (aka Tims, Timmies)
TF - Task Force - a military element or unit specifically configured for a given task
TF 31 - 1st Battalion, 3rd SFG(A) (aka FOB 31, SOTF 31)
TF 373 - JSOC black ops TF in Afghanistan
TF 71 - 1st Battalion, 7th SFG(A) (aka FOB 71, SOTF 71)
TIC - troops in contact
UAV - Unmanned Aerial Vehicle
USACIC - United States Army Criminal Investigation Command (aka CID)
SOCCENT - Special Operations Command Central
SOCOM - US Special Operations Command (aka USSOCOM)
SOTF - Special Operations Task Force (aka TF and, pre-2007 aka FOB)
THE GULF
AN ALLIES NOVEL
— § —
PROLOGUE
— § —
SW 1st Avenue, Ocala, Florida
Saturday 03 Mar 07 1850 hrs EST
Lewis had to die. Not just Lewis; everything that had ever mattered to Lewis had to die as well. Not right away maybe, but eventually. Jim Lewis on the other hand; well, he was a goner just as soon as Tuffy laid eyes on him.
Tuffy was pumped.
He’d never actually killed anyone before but he had been imagining it for the better part of his extremely short life. It wasn’t
just the run-of-the-mill imagination that passes through a boy’s mind while the body count adds up as he watches television or a movie or plays a video game. Instead Tuffy had worked through the details of how to do the act, what to do with the body, even what effect the killing would have on him. Not affect, but effect. Tuffy wasn’t concerned about how his first kill would affect him. Quite simply Tuffy had no emotional connection with anyone; well maybe his family and his girl, Sandy, but not anyone beyond them. It never once crossed his mind that killing someone would change him in any way. On the other hand he clearly expected that there had to be something in it for him; some benefit. Killing just for the sake of killing—for the fun of it—well, that just wasn’t really his thing.
Getting into the house was the first thing that had gone well as far as Tuffy was concerned.
It was a typical Floridian suburban home: a rambling bungalow with an attached two-car garage set on a large lawn of coarse, ragged St. Augustine grass, numerous plantings of flowering bushes, palms, palmettos and oak, and a pool and a lanaii under a massive screened enclosure. Its muted lighting seemed engulfed by the Stygian darkness that followed the region’s brief dusk.
They had gone in through the back, easily popping the lock on the screen enclosure’s door. A bedroom’s sliding patio door succumbed just as easily. A quick dash through the house showed the home’s alarm system peacefully flashing a welcoming green light. It either hadn’t been set or alternatively was not connected to the back screen door or to any motion sensors.
There were several dim lights glowing in the house, mostly LEDs from appliances and clocks as well as nightlights in each of the children's bedrooms.
Tuffy and the old man did a walk through. He wasn’t too sure what he should be looking for but he knew well enough that he ought not to leave any fingerprints. Note to file: next time bring gloves. Instead he took a bandanna out of his back pocket and used it whenever he handled anything. Tuffy’s search was profit oriented and ended up netting him a small pile of jewelry and two watches, all of dubious quality. His excitement hit a peak with an automatic pistol in one of the side tables in the master bedroom. He was not a novice when it came to handguns but he knew he was far from an expert. In the glow of the clock-radio the thing looked to be a Glock of some type. Sweet.
The search had been quick. Everything had stayed quiet. There was nothing to do now except to wait for the headlights to show up in the driveway.
Tuffy and the old man had arrived at the house only ten minutes earlier. They’d been late. They had expected to be here at sundown but hadn’t realized that SW 1st Avenue consisted of a number of disconnected fragments. They’d come in on the I-75 then taken Exit 350 for Florida State Road 200 East; toward downtown Ocala. SR 200 had curved into the south-central part of the city although there had been nothing that would indicate that they were moving into its heart—no tall buildings, no sidewalks bustling with shoppers—just the usual collection of Floridian malls, fast-food restaurants and car dealerships.
They’d easily found the turn for SW 1st Avenue, but unfortunately, long before they reached the number that they were looking for the street made a sharp right onto S Pine Avenue and came to an abrupt end. They had searched around and found SW 2nd Avenue, SW 3rd Avenue and then SE 1st Avenue but SW 1st had simply disappeared.
Asking for directions had not been an option. In the end the choice had been to aimlessly wander around to find the right part of the street or to try to find a better street map than the piece of garbage one of Central Florida that the old man had brought along.
Tuffy had learned his first lesson; the old man might be in charge, but he was a piss-poor planner. He’d never asked Tuffy for any input and, quite frankly, Tuffy himself had never given much thought to planning. But Tuffy wasn’t stupid. Not well educated perhaps, but not stupid. The old man’s fuck up had taught Tuffy the cardinal principle of a hit: plan well.
There had been no sense in retracing their route to the interstate. On the way in they hadn’t come across any major truck stops where they could find a decent map. The best option was to cruise up Pine looking for a likely candidate. It had taken three tries. Three times that the old man had sent Tuffy in to look for a map before he finally found a GM Johnson map of Gainesville and Ocala. Tuffy hadn’t exactly been looking out for cameras but even to him the idea of wandering around three different gas stations looking for maps hadn’t exactly seemed like a brilliant idea. Another lesson learned.
The map had finally shown them the way. The only way to access the right fragment of SW 1st Avenue that they wanted was by way of SW 7th Avenue Road.
“These fuckers need some serious help with naming and laying out their streets,” Tuffy had commented to the old man.
The delay had cost them all of the time that the old man had planned to use for looking the place over. In the interim, dusk had fallen and they had settled for one quick drive-by and then parking in the least conspicuous place possible up the road. The neighborhood was purely residential with no really good place to hide the car but the darkness had helped.
Tuffy had now learned his third lesson about planning and his disrespect for the old man had deepened.
— § —
PART 1
CHAPTER 1
Edgewater Beach Dr, Lakeland, Florida
Saturday 03 Mar 07 2110 hrs EST
Saturday night TV sucked. It was as if all of the entertainment executives in New York and Los Angeles believed that the whole country went out to party and there wasn’t any sense in putting anything new or good on anyway. If you were lucky you might get a new Saturday Night Live but new episodes, and particularly new and good episodes, were hard to come by. The week before, Rainn Wilson had been the guest star but the show had failed to deliver on the star’s link to The Office. If it hadn’t been for Amy Poehler’s the The British are leaving! The British are leaving! line on Weekend Update, Mark wouldn’t have had a laugh during the whole show. Her reference to the Brit’s pulling out of Iraq was the only piece of writing that had gotten more than a mere smile from him. Mark swore that if Poehler or Seth Meyers ever left Update he’d just pack in watching the whole damn show.
Mark settled back into his La-Z-Boy, switched the TV off and picked up the book he’d been reading, off and on, for two weeks now; Michael Connelly’s Echo Park, a Christmas gift from Kristin that he had only recently gotten to. Mark wasn’t a slow reader; it had just been an unusually busy few months.
Chief Warrant Officer 2 Mark Winters of the US Army’s Criminal Investigation Command—which still used the acronym CID from its previous designation as the army’s Criminal Investigation Division—was the special agent in-charge of its Lakeland, Florida sub-office.
Collocated at the city’s James West Army Reserve Center with the headquarters company of a Florida National Guard artillery battalion, the office had responsibility for all felony investigations concerning US Army facilities or personnel within the Florida Peninsula. Mark reported directly to the CID Battalion located at Fort Benning, Georgia. Unlike most other CID battalions which were numbered, it was simply called the Fort Benning CID Battalion with jurisdiction over the southeastern continental states. Besides having the responsibility for the army’s national guard and reserve units in the peninsula, Mark also supported the army’s elements at each of US Central Command and US Special Operations Command in Tampa and US Southern Command in Miami—CENTCOM, USSOCOM (or simply SOCOM) and SOUTHCOM.
A busy office, but generally one where one could mostly count on the weekend being one’s own. This month, his wife Kristin even had shifts that gave her the weekend off from her duties as a nurse with the intensive care unit of the Lakeland Regional Medical Center thus relieving Mark from babysitting duties of their four-year old son, Max.
Today had been a busy day: shopping, housekeeping and a swim in the backyard’s pool. Their almost five-year-old Max had nodded off about a half an hour before his usual bed-time while Kristin had turned to
finishing the week’s laundry thus leaving Mark to entertain himself with the TV for a few hours. Tomorrow would be a picnic out at the Bok Tower Gardens just on the other side of Winter Haven.
The room’s stillness was interrupted with the ringing of the phone. Mark manged to drag himself up out of the chair just slowly enough so that Kristin, in the master bedroom, picked up first.
“Hello,” she said. There was a pause. “Yes, he’s here. One moment please.”
Her head peeked around the end of the hallway.
“Mark. It’s a Sergeant Harris from the Ocala Police.”
Mark padded his way over in his bare feet and took the phone from his wife’s hand. He walked over to the door to the lanaii and looked out toward the blackness of Lake Parker before answering.
“Chief Winters,” he said.
“Chief. It’s Sergeant Wayne Harris,” said the voice on the phone. “I’m the major crimes sergeant out here in Ocala.”
“How can I help you Wayne?” Mark asked.
“We got one out here that you guys might want to be in on,” he said. “I talked to your duty agent and he gave me your number.”
Something I’m going to have to thank him for, thought Mark.
“It’s a bad one,” added Harris.
The most direct route to Ocala lay through the middle of the Green Swamp via SR 472, a two-lane black top running straight up from Lakeland to Sumterville. At Sumterville the I-75 took you to Ocala. Mark had instead chosen a slightly longer route taking US 98 through Dade City thereby hitting the I-75 some twenty five miles further south. In his mind, the longer route would reduce the odds of hitting some wayward deer or inebriated cracker on his way home from the local tap and grill. Either way the ninety-some miles would take an hour and three-quarters; an hour twenty with the SUV’s hideaway emergency lights flashing and fingers crossed as to said deer and drunks.