Echo Six: Black Ops 8 - ISIS Killing Fields (14 page)

"She'll have had extensive clearance when she joined CIA."

He grimaced. "So did Aldrich Aimes. Much good it did anyone."

Talley shrugged. "It's a fair point, except there's something you haven't thought of. If we don't go with her plan, we're out of ideas. It's that or nothing, and we have a horde of savage ISIS between us and FOB Sykes."

"And Petersen waiting at the gate when we get back." Guy waved a hand in the general direction of Northern Iraq, "You know he won't be a happy man when we return. You warned him ISIS could be on the rampage, and he wouldn't listen. He'll want somewhere to shift the blame."

"Who?"

He shrugged. "It's a no-brainer. It can't be one of us because you warned Petersen of the threat, in front of witnesses. It can't be him, because he's chasing a general's star. That leaves one candidate. Geena Blake."

It made a lot of sense, except he didn't agree. "I'm not throwing her to the wolves, no way. There's one circumstance where we'd all come up smelling of roses, all except for him."

Guy grinned. "I can't wait to hear."

"Mission accomplished. We go back there with the operation complete." Then he sobered as he remembered Casta and Cross, "except for the two men we lost."

A pause, and he felt Guy's eyes on him. "You like her."

"Geena?"

"I didn't mean the ugly broad who works in the PX."

"She's good people."

"The broad in the PX?"

He chuckled. "Geena handled herself well, and her idea for getting us out of that ambush saved lives. We should remember that."

Guy was still staring at him. "She's more than okay, a pretty girl, clever and resourceful. What's not to like?” Then his expression changed. It became cold, "Just one thing, Abe. If she's not on the up and up, I'll cut her heart out and feed it to her piece by piece."

Guy Welland was Jewish by religion, and British by birth. Like most Jews, he regarded his homeland as sacrosanct. He also regarded those who tried to wipe it off the face of the earth as deserving of a bullet. Period. The Muslims had been trying to destroy Israel since its foundation in 1948. They'd become more than a tough, hardened nation. The religion itself had changed. No more marching in line to the gas chambers. The Israeli Defense Force was regarded as amongst the best in the business, and woe betide anyone who went up against them, as many Arabs had found to their cost.

"If you find she's a traitor, I'll lend you the knife. Although I can tell you it won't be necessary. She's good people."

The Sergeant grimaced. "You're smitten, Boss. It's time you found yourself a nice Jewish girl to link up with, instead of these Arabs."

"We were just talking."

"Sure. That's always the way it starts."

"Look, forget it. Why don't you go find yourself a nice Jewish girl if it means that much to you?" The moment the words were out, he wanted to take them back, "I'm sorry, Guy, I forgot."

Welland's fiancée had been about to board a bus in the city of Beersheba, located in the Negev Desert. A joint unit of Palestinian Islamic Jihad and Al-Aqsa Martyrs’ Brigades carried out the attack. More than fifty Israelis were injured, and Hanna, his fiancée, died of her wounds.

Guy's expression hardened for a moment, and then it was as if he'd pushed the thought back into the deep recesses of his brain. Never forgotten, but he wouldn't allow it to eat him up. "I'll tell the men what's happening. Will you talk to Salim?"

"Yeah, he'll be disappointed not to be in on the initial assault."

Guy chuckled. "Mortified, I’m sure. You'll have your work cut out persuading him to stay back."

"Probably, but his 2 i/c is okay, Lieutenant Bino. I'll have a quiet word with him, make sure when we surface inside that fort, they're not twenty klicks away and driving like the hounds of hell are on their tails." He paused, unsure of whether to ask the question at the forefront of his mind. He'd always wondered, and he decided to take a chance, "Guy, after Hanna, you know..."

"After they murdered her?"

"Yes. How did you handle it? I mean, did you feel the need for a drink when things looked at their worst?"

Welland's gaze was far away, and he knew he was thinking back to that terrible time. "Look, Guy, I shouldn't have asked."

He took a moment to clear his head. "It's not a problem. No, I didn't feel the need for alcohol."

"So how did you handle it?"

"I went hunting."

"Hunting?"

"Right. To Gaza, where these Palestinian scum have their base."

"Did you find them?"

His face hardened. "All of them!"

"Was it better than the booze?"

"Not for them, no."

Talley left him and went to find Salim. The Special Forces Captain had ordered his men to rig desert-pattern camo nets over their three vehicles. He was sitting under the largest net and appeared to be lecturing some of his men. Bino was there and a pair of grizzled looking noncoms, his senior sergeants. The Iraqi Captain looked up as he approached.

"Commander Talley, what can I do for you? Some refreshment, perhaps?"

Talley glanced at the Iraqis. "I need a quiet word, Captain. Just you and Lieutenant Bino."

He made a gesture at his NCOs, who rushed away. "Now, what is it you want? Do you have a plan to get us out of here?"

"Not until we've taken the fort."

The Captain's swarthy skin seemed to lose much of its color. "You're not serious? There is no way we can cross that open ground, not in the face of their defenses. No, the sensible option to take is to go back to Sykes."

"We have a way in, Captain. All I'm asking from you is to hold this position until we're inside. Then we'll signal you to come across and help mop up any survivors."

A pause. "Commander, the moment we break cover, those heavy machine guns will tear us to shreds. I can't order my men to take that kind of risk."

"There won't be any machine guns. We won't signal until we're in control of the walls. All we need from you is to bring in your men to help us search the place. It'll look damn good on your record in Baghdad." Talley raised his hands to emphasize the point, like a Roman orator about to make a speech, "Think of it, Iraqi Special Forces Captain scores notable victory against ISIS inside Syria. All the credit will go to you. It could even mean promotion."

Bino glanced at his Captain, his face alight with excitement. "Sir, this could be the opportunity we've been waiting for. A chance for the men to see action after all the time they've spent in training."

"You think so?" He still looked suspicious, but he was also thoughtful.

"No question, Sir. A chance to win a major victory, and without any risk to ourselves."

Salim looked back at Talley. "You're sure? I would get the credit?"

"It's all yours. We operate under cover. When it's all over, we'll leave the country, and you'll be the man in the spotlight."

The Iraqi’s eyes narrowed in thought. "Yes, I think it could work. You understand I have no wish to put my men at risk. They've seen enough danger. I just want to get them home."

"Of course you do. That's very commendable, Captain."

He looked at Bino. "What do you think, Lieutenant? Are the men ready for this?"

"No question, Sir." Bino almost jumped to attention, "They've been waiting for a chance to strike at the enemy. This has to be the moment."

Salim gave a decisive nod. "In that case, I agree. We'll hold this position until you signal, and then come to your aid at the fort. How will you signal?"

"You have radios, Captain?"

He looked shamefaced. "Most were stolen before we came here. The two sets we brought with us both broke down. Perhaps you could lend us one of yours?"

"Yeah, sure. I'll send my guy over with a radio before we leave. Thank you, Captain."

The man’s smile was courteous. "You're welcome, Commander."

* * *

Khalil was sitting in the passenger seat of his truck. He had no choice but to cling on grimly as the driver negotiated the interminable ruts and boulders that littered the desert trail. They'd found the route taken by the foreigners, but their lead vehicle nosedived into the dried up riverbed, and it took them almost four hours to dig it out. He decided they'd take the long way around to Al-Amoh. Better to be delayed than risk another hold up that would leave it too late to go the aid of the defenders.

Jafaar had left before the battle and told him he'd meet them later at Al-Amoh.

"Make sure you kill all of these foreign invaders, Khalil. If they succeed in taking the fort, it could set us back many years. Our men will become disaffected, and many will desert. It could even destroy the Caliphate, and give power to another of the Islamic groups in the country. Remember what happened to Al-Qaeda. Not long ago, a name that instilled fear across the world. Now, they are a mere shadow, and losing men by the day. That must not happen to ISIS. The Caliphate must not fail. You must not fail."

"We will not fail, Hasan. I will signal you when we reach the fort and we have taken care of the foreigners."

"Good. It is the will of Allah that you win the coming battle, bless His holy name."

They shook hands, and Jafaar went to his vehicle, a nondescript and battered Toyota Hilux. His cover was his anonymity, and he'd rejected any suggestion he use a more modern and comfortable SUV. The back of the Hilux carried a collection of valves and pipes. He'd fooled more than one checkpoint by telling them he was a humble plumber going about his business.

He spoke to his driver, and the vehicle drove away. The Hilux suited him well. He would leave the grand flourishes of luxurious four-wheel drives with soft leather upholstery and truck-mounted machine guns. His war was the shadow war, the undercover war. The Caliph himself had told him his intelligence gathering apparatus was worth ten thousand new recruits to the ISIS cause, which satisfied Jafaar, although personally he'd have put the figure nearer to twenty thousand.

* * *

The crawl was long and hard. Talley led, with Geena right behind him to give directions if they ran into anything unexpected. Darkness had fallen, but Vince had reported they were sweeping the desert with the NV gear. They had the cairn of rocks between them and the NV equipped guards on the rampart, but all it would take was for one of them to move his position, and he'd spot them with the first sweep.

He'd brought them all along. Despite his misgivings, he'd had no choice but to leave the LSVs hidden under camo nets in a shallow bowl hidden behind a series of dunes. He couldn't spare a single man to guard them, and didn't trust the Iraqis enough to know the location.

They had to slither along the sands, and behind them, Bielski and Kane did their best to cover the tracks. It was impossible to disguise them all, but at least it would hide them from a casual glance. It took almost two hours to reach the cairn, and when he was able to climb to his feet, he stretched his limbs with relief. Some of them were going through simple exercises to restore their circulation and ease their cramped muscles, all except the girl. She leapt lightly to her feet and climbed into the mass of stones, about as big as a large truck. She wrenched some of the large stones aside, and as he watched, a thick bank of cloud covered the moon, making everything dark. When moonlight returned, she'd disappeared.

He ran ahead, fearing she'd tumbled into a shaft. When he reached where she'd disappeared, he was relieved to see her climbing out of a narrow hole in the rocks.

"This is it! The shaft is right where I remembered it."

"Good." He found Guy, who was watching a few meters away. "We're there, so check out the area. Make sure there're no unpleasant surprises."

"Roger that." He gave a last, doubtful glance at Geena and was gone.

He turned back to the girl. "Show me the shaft."

"Of course." She turned back to the hole in the rocks and squeezed through. Talley followed, although with his bulky armored vest, he had to struggle. They were on a narrow shelf of rock, and a meter to their front, he could see a dark hole. She pointed to it. "That leads down to the qanat. Do you have a flashlight?"

"Sure."

He took out the tiny, hooded tactical flashlight and shone the pinpoint beam down the shaft. He could see the bottom about twenty meters down, and there was something moving down there. He moved the beam around and felt her on his shoulder.

"Snakes."

He turned to her. "Poisonous?"

"Oh, yes, vipers, and maybe cobras."

"How would you have dealt with them before?"

He saw her teeth bared in smile. "My father dealt with them. He killed them. He had to; they'll kill you if you don't kill them first."

"That's good to know."

"Yes. Can you kill them without making a noise?"

He didn't answer and reached for his sound suppressed P226, the Sig Sauer carried by Special Forces worldwide. He shone the flashlight down the shaft, sighted on one particular large serpent coiled at the bottom on the hard, packed earth, and pulled the trigger. There was just a slight 'thump.' It was inaudible at any distance. The snake seemed to jump in the air and then settled back on the earth. Its body was severed in two by the 9mm bullet.