Eden Plague - Latest Edition (12 page)

They met up for an early lunch at a seafood place overlooking the water, within sight of a dozen fishing boats trying to eke out a living in the Chesapeake and the coastal Atlantic nearby. It was hard to hide, because the tourist season hadn’t started yet, and it was mostly locals. At the same time, that made it easier for them to spot anyone out of the ordinary, and none of the guys reported seeing anyone that looked like they were watching. That was good news.

They headed back as soon as they were done, just a bunch of guys on an outing. The island looked the same on the way back, though they went around to the north of it this time. It was about noon, and not a creature was stirring except for the sea birds.

They met back at the motel, and went inside Vinny and Tran’s room. Larry had been complaining because of the crowding in the Land Rover, so he was first out of the vehicle. He was a big guy.

On the other hand, Zeke was getting smaller. He didn’t seem as hungry as Daniel had been, but he was still eating more than normal and he kept grabbing the roll of his gut and shaking it, with a big pleased look on his face. “My pants are getting looser. Hot dog, this stuff is a weight-loss miracle too. It must boost the metabolism like crazy. I feel awesome!”

Daniel looked at him soberly. “Every high has its low, and every benefit has a cost. We just don’t know what this is yet.”

“You won’t just let me enjoy it, will you?” He laughed again.

“All right, enjoy it while you can. I’m a pessimist by nature, I guess.” He’d lived with that serpent too long. Though he hadn’t seen it in a while.
Maybe I never will again.

Vinny dragged the round motel table into the spot between the two beds, so they could sit on chairs and bedsides and all see. He had a row of portable computer stuff on a folding table on the other side of the room, and he’d printed out hardcopy photos. “Pictures of everyone’s apartments. Nothing much to see. They are either not home or staying indoors. If they take the two scientists back off the island this evening, then we can expect just Elise and one or two minders when we go in for the snatch.”

“What if some don’t leave the island? Or what if different ones come off? What if they rotate some overnight?” asked Skull.

“Does it matter?” Zeke asked. “Once we see, we’ll know something. We’ll go in with all five of us. Sorry Vinny. Wrong skill set.”

He shrugged. “No problem, man. Until I get some superhero powers too, I’d rather stay away from bullets, thank you very much.”

Spooky glared. Vinny shrugged again.

Zeke went on, “Okay, general plan. Skull will drive the boat and provide overwatch, secure our line of retreat. We’ll pull in here, into this channel, and disembark behind these scrubby trees. Spooky will take point. Then me and DJ, with Larry and Alan watching our backs. We’ll move in quiet. Here’s the objective rally point, where you post, Skull.” He pointed at a spot just inside the tree line, about fifty yards from the buildings. “Spooky, you’ll do the forward look and report back to us there. If we can’t pinpoint everyone, or anyone, we’ll enter, search and clear the buildings.”

“We will try to stay quiet as long as we can. Once it’s time to enter the main building, DJ and I will breach and go in heavy. Presumably we can take more hits than you guys now, with the XH in us. Our objective is this woman, Elise Wallis.” He held up the picture. “Use your best discretion when engaging armed resistance.” He looked across the table at Daniel. “DJ, I know you want to keep this clean but I’m not going to tell people to add risk to the op just because you want to avoid hurting anyone.”

“Avoid killing anyone, you mean. Hurt them all you want, it will give me something to do,” he said sardonically. His new, XH-enhanced conscience was not really on board with that but he had to maintain a certain image with the others.

Zeke chuckled. “Either way, I hope we get in quiet, they surrender in their beds, we zip-cuff them, then get outta Dodge with our answer girl. That’s the overview. Larry, what we got?”

“I got flash-bangs for everyone, some boom-boom for me, and all sorta body armor, and a lot of other miscellaneous gear. Since we’re only moving a quarter mile or so, I suggest you carry all you want.”

Spooky snorted.

“Ev’body ‘cept you, I guess,” Larry said.

“Cannot be quiet in body armor,” replied the Vietnamese. “I will take the chance. You got NVGs?”

Larry nodded. “Yeah, I got goggles for you and anyone that wants ‘em.”

Daniel shook his head. Night vision gear was fine for certain circumstances but as soon as any shooting started or someone turned on a light, they were useless. They would be useful for Spooky for the first look-around, and for Skull on overwatch, maybe.

“Okay,” said Zeke, “Any immediate concerns?”

Spooky nodded. “Better to clear both small buildings first. Probably living quarters, separated from main building. Main building has no windows and this,” he tapped a photo, “look like NBC filter.” He meant nuclear-biological-chemical, a containment system. “See, negative pressure system to make sure nothing leak out. Maybe jail cell in there, but nobody normally want to sleep in dangerous laboratory.”

This was an unusually long monologue for Spooky, so Daniel knew he was concerned.

Zeke asked, “Anything else? All right, everyone start making your personal prep. We’ll meet back here at six, go over it in detail. I’ll order pizza.” He slapped his shrinking gut again, smiled.

Since returning to the island Elise had been unable to sleep much, or well. Most of her time was spent puttering around the lab, until the wee hours of the morning.  Durgan was putting more and more pressure on her for results and the stress was keeping her on edge.  He wouldn’t believe her that it simply couldn’t be done. Not by three researchers with this tiny lab.

She was glad they didn't lock her up but Durgan constantly threatened her with the possibility. Her mind knew threat was empty but her brain still reacted with worry.

She had the run of the facility but the ankle bracelet tracker they’d fitted kept her from even thinking about escaping. Not that she could swim that far. She didn’t even know how to drive a boat and it’s not like they left the keys lying around. No, she’d missed her best chance already.

***

They men spent the evening going over the op plan. Then going over it again. Then again, ad nauseum. That’s the way to succeed at special ops, meticulous planning, perfect execution.

They went aboard their boat at about 2300 hours, eleven PM. They figured it would be suspicious to go out much later than that. Skull took the conn again, threading their way among the moored and anchored boats toward the Chesapeake.

Vinny had kept watch while they went over the details, and had reported that the same four people had returned to the marina around sundown, on the boat. That meant one or two more of the shooters, and at most two civilians there, plus Elise, if their chain of reasoning was correct. He stayed in the motel room, monitoring his cyberware and the guy’s tactical voice network. They were using the latest frequency-hopping radios with self-generated encryption keys. Vinny said nothing short of the National Security Agency or a full-blown signals intelligence unit would be able to even find them, much less break the encryption in time.

They took a wide course that slowly circled Watts Island to come in from the northwest. It gave them time to do their final preparation.

Larry kept fidgeting with his mask, trying to get it fit to his satisfaction. He did the same with his body armor. He was wearing a full rig, head to ankle including the skirts, which was usual only for a full breach urban scenario.
I wouldn’t be surprised to see him outfitted in a bomb suit,
thought Daniel
.
He must have been carrying a hundred pounds of gear. Good thing they only had to move a quarter mile. Daniel prayed Larry wouldn’t fall off the boat. He carried an AA-12 automatic shotgun. It took someone Larry’s size to really use one of those effectively. It could spray an awesome amount of firepower at short range. The recoil would also pound your shoulder to a pulp if you didn’t know what you were doing.

Spooky was all in black, and as they slowly wended their way toward the island he wiped camo onto his face in a tiger-stripe pattern, black and green. He repeatedly adjusted his web gear, everything carried and fastened to him, until he was satisfied. He walked up and down the tiny deck, jumped up and down and then grunted, satisfied. No rattles, no clinks. He carried a suppressed P90, which was very good for a little guy like him – handy, lots of short-range firepower in a small package.

Skull was using a venerable HK91 7.62 NATO, night-scoped. DJ had talked him out of the Barrett, because they didn’t need that kind of range, and a .50-caliber rifle bullet tended to kill with one shot to any body part – it could tear a limb right off a target. They were trying to limit casualties. The HK was also a lot handier in a general firefight, if he had to move from his position.

Zeke and Daniel both had their old standbys, M4 carbines. These were standard issue for the US military, and were descended from the M-16 family that was first widely used in Vietnam. Daniel’s fit his hand like it was made for him. Old friends. The serpent stuck his nose out of his hole for the first time in a while, flicked his tongue out. But Daniel had a surprise for the old snake, and anyone else who got in his way. He had a workaround for his conscience’s killing problem. Maybe.

He had his aid bag in his ruck, along with extra ammo and all the usual stuff any grunt carried – tape, zip cuffs, parachute cord, protein and granola bars, water, the list went on and on. Never knew what you might need. He also had his trusty XD on the thigh rig and his XD compact was in a holster on his left inner ankle. His right calf was taken up with a wicked-sharp KA-BAR combat knife that had gone with Gramps to Iwo Jima and back.

Waiting was difficult. Most of them dozed, with the thoroughly ingrained ability of every combat trooper to sleep anywhere, any time. But even the longest wait ends.

Coming up on 0300 hours they made their last commo check with Vinny and each other on the small tactical radios buckled high on their chests. Each of them had an earpiece in his shooting ear and a slim mike extending from it, snugged on the same-side cheek. The earpieces not only connected to our tactical radios but contained high-tech noise suppression circuitry that kept them from being deafened by their own weapons. A tiny counterpart was in each man’s opposite ear, so they could hear as well or better than normal, while still having sonic protection from the violence they were about to cause.

They motored slowly and quietly up to Watts Island, approaching from the north, out of sight of the buildings. Daniel lowered the anchor when Skull told him to, then watched as he filled a six-man rubber boat from a compressed air tank. They loaded from the dive deck off the back. Once they were in, they paddled the short distance to the rocky shore.

They startled some sleeping seabirds on landing. Daniel saw a Great Blue heron fly off, skimming up the shoreline like a living hang-glider. Other than that, they got in nice and easy. They carried the boat into the scrubby treeline, then locked and loaded weapons.

Despite the many missions under his belt, Daniel’s heart still thudded in his chest. It had been several years since he had been on a real, deliberate combat operation, not counting the bizarre actions that started this whole thing off. He wasn’t afraid for himself; something in him was still sick at the thought of having to kill someone.

He’d never been this way before, and he was starting to wonder about it. The XH had improved him a lot; it had stilled the serpent and healed his body, but it had also made him different in some way. He had been trying to ignore it, to wish it away, but it was really making itself felt right now. He was starting to worry he couldn’t do the job. Only his choice of ammo was letting him function right now.

He tried to imagine himself treating combat trauma, visualizing the blood, the pressure bandages, the IVs, the pain and the screaming. Nothing. But visualize shooting someone, and suddenly he felt sick. It was not too bad if he thought about shooting an arm or a leg. He tried recalling his execution of Jenkins and was overcome with a wave of nausea and regret. He pushed it out of his mind as they moved through the low dense woods. He couldn’t indulge in thought experiments right now, or he would screw something up.

At least he knew he could treat combat injury trauma.

They came to the edge of the open space right where they expected, outside the northeast corner of the small complex. They were looking at the corner where the small northern building and the big central building almost touched. This was their ORP, their objective rally point. The helipad was to their right, next to the back of the big building. They could see the white Jeep through the gap between the buildings. Their angle blocked their view of the southernmost small building.

Zeke made a hand signal and Spooky moved off to their left, vanishing into the woods. A few minutes later Daniel saw him crouching by one of the windows at the back of the small building. He had been looking but had not even seen Spooky cross the open space from the trees to the building.

“Damn, he’s good,” he breathed.

A derisive snort from Skull was the only answer.

There was a three to five knot breeze, by the wind sock swinging at the helipad on its short wooden pole. They watched the black shape against the white building move along it, looking in the windows. It slid around the corner a moment later, and they waited some more.

While they waited, Skull prepped a quick sniper position there at the ORP.

They heard a faint click, then Spooky’s voice. “North small building clear. Quarters, kitchen, office, rec room. I leave east door unsecured, advise occupy. Proceeding to south small building.”

“Acknowledged.” Zeke led them fifty yards eastward, staying inside the treeline. Then they hustled across the open space, shielded from sight by the empty small building. As they crossed the space they could hear the low grumble of a generator, well-muffled, and a whining hiss that was less identifiable.