“That’s Bashir wearing the shades,” Hunter said a moment later as the man disappeared into the mud-brick house.
“Hassani won’t be far behind him,” Alex added. “Wait for them both to step outside before you take a shot.”
“Copy that.” Without taking his eye from the scope, he spoke to Jordyn again. “I’ve got the building. You take the other vehicles. Got ‘em?”
“Yeah.”
No one else emerged from the other two vehicles and the windows were tinted too dark for them to get a look at the occupants. Almost ten minutes passed until they got another sighting. But not from the vehicles or the building they were watching.
“Movement on the north side of the valley,” Alex said suddenly.
Blake shifted his focus there in time to see two more men appear from an opening in the rocks on the opposite side of the valley. “Whoa,” he murmured.
Jordyn swung her scope around to where he was looking. “What the hell?” she whispered back.
“Got a potential situation here,” Blake reported to the others. “Two more tangos just walked out of the base of the hill to the north. There’s gotta be a cave complex of some kind.”
He heard Alex curse. “Copy that. We’re gonna have to fall back, see if we can trap them all before they scatter. You hold your position while the rest of us check it out.” He ordered Gage and Hunter to close in from the north, saying he and Evers would herd from the east.
“Roger,” Blake replied. Alex and Evers were close to the village now, less than a hundred fifty yards away from the north-easternmost building. Gage and Hunter were somewhere to the northwest, moving to the valley floor.
The rug covering the doorway of the target building shifted and a man emerged into the strengthening sunlight. Blake zeroed in on him, aware that Jordyn had tensed as she too saw the potential threat.
As far as he knew, she’d never shot an enemy combatant before. Right now he couldn’t afford to think about how this might affect her, so he blocked that out and let himself slip deep into operational mode. They both had to be sharp to protect the other ground team members. He took lives because in doing so, he saved the lives of his teammates.
Through the scope he had a perfect view of his target. “Guy’s got something in his hands,” he whispered to Jordyn.
“Got him.” They watched as he headed north.
“What’s he holding?” Blake couldn’t tell yet if he was a villager or a tango.
“An AK, looks like.”
Blake contacted Alex this time. “You’ve got company coming at you. Single tango, armed with an AK. Over.”
“Take him out,” came the terse reply.
“Roger that.” Blake had final say on what he shot at, but this militant was getting too close to where Alex and Evers were holding. The shot’s report would alert everyone of their presence but they couldn’t afford to take the chance that this guy would expose Alex and Evers. Unfortunately for him, his proximity to the ground team and the weapon he held made him a walking dead man. “Range?” he asked Jordyn, still focused on his target.
Without protest or questioning him about what was happening she used the laser range designator to get a reading. “Six-two-one yards,” she answered, her voice steady and clear.
He did the calculation, using the cosine indicator clamped to the telescopic sight to adjust for the angle he was shooting down at, which made the horizontal distance to the target far less than the range estimate.
He made the adjustment and stilled, compensating for the nearly forty-five degree angle of the shot by holding low. “Elevation?”
“Twelve-point-two-four minutes of angle.”
“Wind?”
“Five miles per hour, zero.”
The slight wind was blowing directly at their faces. Blake adjusted the scope and leaned into the stock. He fitted his eye to the scope and dialed the focus ring until the crosshairs lined up on the man’s chest. “Holding one inch below center mass.”
“Roger. On scope,” she answered, letting him know she had the target locked in her sights.
He was ready. Through his scope he could see the detail on the buttons holding the man’s shirt closed. He took up the slack on the trigger and waited. One more ounce of pressure would fire the weapon. “On target.”
She knew what came next, knew what it meant but she hesitated only a second before saying, “Fire when ready.”
At the signal he breathed in, partially exhaled and waited for the moment between heartbeats to gently apply the remaining ounce of pressure to squeeze the trigger. The rifle recoiled into his shoulder and the round hit four inches below the man’s throat, dropping him where he stood. He was probably dead before he hit the ground.
Jordyn’s voice came through the echo of the report that rang around the hills. He wasn’t worried yet that he’d given their position away, only that he’d maybe initiated a firefight. “Hit, center chest, target down,” she said. He knew without checking that she was still looking through her scope, searching for another target. He hadn’t thought it possible, but in that moment his respect for her increased even more. She was a strong, kickass partner and he was damn proud to have her at his side.
“Perfect windage and elevation. Bang on,” he said, part of him hating that she was forced to stare at a dead man she’d just helped kill. He pulled back the bolt to eject the spent cartridge and reloaded a new round, then zeroed the scope. She didn’t answer and he didn’t expect her to. Shit, he hoped he hadn’t just unleashed hell on all of them with that shot.
He had his eye to the scope again, watching for other possible targets when he heard Jordyn swear under her breath. At her sharp tone, without thinking he lifted his head to look over at her. “What?”
She had her scope trained to the west. “Take a look over there.”
He shifted around slowly to peer through his own scope, and his heart sank when he saw all the men emerging from the surrounding hillsides. At least a dozen forming on the ridge to the west alone, close to where Hunter and Gage were supposed to be. Immediately he contacted the others and used Hunter and Gage’s call signs to alert them. “Advise, you’ve got at least a dozen tangos coming up on your three o’clock,” he finished.
“Roger that,” came Hunter’s terse reply.
“What do we do?” Jordyn whispered to him.
There was no way he could take them all out without giving away his and Jordyn’s hide site. Any more than three shots and he risked the enemy guessing their location via triangulation. Then any asshole with a long range rifle or an RPG could take a pot shot at them. “We hold here and get ready to clear that ridge if they spot the others.”
****
Hidden in the deceptive safety of a shallow wadi, Alex crouched next to Evers and surveyed the situation. They were close to the village now, near enough to be able to effectively engage anyone coming out of the target house. But Blake’s warning made the nape of his neck tingle.
Across from them on the low ridge at the west end of the valley, the enemy slowly materialized at the crest. Hunter and Gage were already pulling back toward cover while he and Evers held their position. It still wasn’t too late to move back. They might still be able to sneak back into the hills without being spotted. From there they could rendezvous at a safer location and regroup.
“Oh, shit,” Evers suddenly breathed beside him.
Alex’s heart kicked hard at the sheer dread in the Fed’s tone. He whipped his head around to follow Evers’s line of sight, and looked through his binos to the northeast. Sure enough, more men were appearing on the ridgeline. All armed with what appeared to be automatic rifles.
They were being encircled. Slowly, methodically, and Alex knew this plan had been well rehearsed. Worse, he’d not only played into their hands by approaching the village, he’d led the others into the same trap with him.
He set his jaw and forced himself to keep a clear head as the adrenaline flooded his body. He tapped his earpiece. “All units fall back. That’s an order.”
Hunt replied with a designated mic click that told everyone he’d received and understood.
“We’ve still got a good line of sight here,” Blake said. Not exactly an argument, but close.
“Negative. Fall
back
,” Alex ordered again. As soon as the channel was clear he contacted the ops center at Kandahar, where the Quick Reaction Force was hopefully still standing by. “We’re heavily outnumbered, being encircled and are moving back. Request air support to these coordinates.” He yanked out his map and rattled them off. “Enemy numbers growing, using possible cave or tunnel network to move around. HVT is still in the area. Repeat, Sand Viper is still—”
A shot cracked past him on the right. Alex cursed under his breath as he and Evers automatically hit the ground on their bellies, rifles up and ready to return fire. So much for escaping unnoticed.
Even without the binos he could see more men emerging onto the far ridge, now moving down toward them in a choreographed wave. More shots rang out in the distance to the west, followed by the higher pitched sound of M4s returning fire. Gage and Hunter had engaged the enemy.
“Roger that, Dark Force one,” the man on the other end of the radio answered, using Alex’s radio call sign. “Transmitting your request now. QRF alerted and ready to launch within ten minutes. ETA to your position, forty minutes.”
In forty fucking minutes they’d be out of ammo and likely dead. “Copy. Out.”
Just that fast, the hunters had become the prey.
Alex tightened his finger on the trigger and took aim at the closest fighter to him, already at five hundred feet and closing fast. They were all in the shit now. Their only chance was to fight their way to safety.
And pray the QRF arrived in time to clear off most of those insurgents if he wanted his team to make it out of this valley alive.
Malik’s head lifted when he heard the faint popping noise coming through the cave entrance. From where he was standing around the first bend in the rock tunnel he could make out the sound of sporadic gunfire and knew the Taliban fighters had engaged the ground team. With his back to the wall he had a clear view of the tunnel in both directions so no one could sneak up on him. He held his pistol in a double-handed grip, ready to take down anyone who came at him through the cave entrance.
The two-way radio on his belt let out a quiet squawk. He grabbed it.
“It’s started. Are you ready?” Bashir asked him, his voice slightly breathless as though he’d been running.
“Yes. I’ll wait for you at the exit.”
“I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
Malik put the radio back into its holder on his belt and waited, consciously slowing his heart rate and breathing, the way he’d been taught years ago in the Pakistani military. He’d planned for this. He knew what he had to do, and that he had only one chance to execute this perfectly. So much of it was out of his control now and he hated that. Everything hinged on the fighters occupying the ground team long enough for him to make his escape. Even if the Americans had found the cave network entrances, there was no way they’d find him. And he didn’t plan on putting himself in their sights anyway.
Shuffling footsteps came down the tunnel, the glow of a flashlight becoming brighter and brighter. Bashir used the Urdu password they’d set earlier. Malik relaxed his stance, but only slightly, as his most trusted man appeared out of the darkness.
“The tunnel was empty,” Bashir told him, putting away his flashlight while gripping the pistol in his other hand. “No one followed. The other leaders are all busy directing their men.”
“Good. What about the drivers?”
Bashir’s face tightened, his mouth pinching.
Malik’s muscles tightened in reflex. “What?” he demanded.
“No word yet. They should be arriving any minute. I checked their earlier coordinates myself.” He shifted, clearly agitated, and Malik knew there was more.
“Say it,” he snapped. He had no patience for hesitation at this point, when his survival and everything he’d worked for hinged on executing the rest of this plan.
“There’s word that the tide is changing.”
A bolt of fear shot through him. He masked it, kept his expression impassive even as his heart began to slam. “What do you mean,” he growled. A demand, not a question.
Bashir shook his head once. “Our source at the border contacted me. He said he heard there was a warrant put out for your arrest by both the Afghan and Pakistani governments. They’re planning to arrest you when you reach the border.”
Malik felt the blood drain from his face. A wave of heat flooded his body, followed by a shot of ice cold fear. “When did this happen?” He watched his most trusted man carefully, studying his facial expression and body language as he awaited the answer. If he was lying or guilty of any part in this, Malik would know. He was the best there was at reading people.
Bashir didn’t flinch or look away at his clipped tone, and Malik believed he was innocent of any betrayal. “Within the hour.”
He frantically reviewed the possible people involved. Who had instigated this? His ISI contact? Possible, but Malik didn’t have any information to go on yet. “It doesn’t matter. By the time they get their forces gathered I’ll already be across the border. General Sharif is sending one of his best units. They’ll provide me enough protection to reach Islamabad.”
“With respect, sir, I no longer think we should count on their protection.”
The soft tone only made him angrier. He thrust a forefinger at Bashir. “You don’t make the decisions, I do. We don’t have time to argue. We have to move
now
.”
Whirling away, he stormed back down the tunnel Bashir had just traveled. Crude and narrow, they still served their purpose. Over the centuries the Pashtun tribes in the area had built this vast network of tunnels interconnected by caves because of constant invasions and to evade and attack the Russians. Since the western-labeled ‘War On Terror’ began, the villagers and Taliban fighters had expanded them, using them as hideouts and a way to move from one location to another unseen by the American satellites and drones.