47 Echo (15 page)

Nick managed to catch almost five hours of sleep, the most he’d had in recent memory. When he awoke, he found the three Rangers had occupied the remaining drop-downs. Moving quietly so not to wake them, Nick swung himself out of the rack and walked softly out through the Razor’s back hatch.

“You’re s’posed to be asleep, boss,” Gabriel told him quietly, shifting his M4 from his left to his right shoulder.

“Oh, I was. All quiet out here?”

“Pretty much. Me and Ryan and the girl Ranger got their medic patched up, we think. He had enough shrapnel in his legs that I doubt they’ll be much use ever again. But he woke up for a bit, and he’s relatively pain-free, thanks to the drugs.”

“Everyone else?”

“Mostly crashed out. Me, Marty, Mike and Ryan are on day watch. So far, we been watchin’ wind blow and paint dry.”

“Quiet’s good. Quiet means no shooting.”

“So, what are we gonna do about those Rangers? Pretty cramped in the Razor as it is already, but we aren’t just gonna leave ‘em here, are we?”

“No, we’re not. We don’t know that this place is any more secure than where they were hiding, so they’re coming with us.”

“Marty said we might could give them some of our food and meds and swing back for them on the way out. I figured we’d probably want ‘em along for experience and extra guns, if nothing else.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Nick told him, neglecting to mention that their chances of coming back out were up in the air.

“So how we gonna make the seating work in the Razor?”

“Well, we’re going to go down to three bunks so the medic can stay off his feet. That means we’re gonna have to sleep in shifts of three rather than four, so don’t expect to get a hell of a lot of sleep. As far as chairs go, we’ve got twelve for fourteen people, which means we’ll also be taking shifts on our feet. If we need the room to move around, we’ll have to stick two people up in the turrets out of the way. We’ll make it work.”

“Marty ran some math on the extra weight and fuel consumption and all that shit. Said we should still be all right running off of solar with the extra crew. He’s a smart motherfucker, that guy.”

Nick checked his watch. “Grab some rack time. Who’s been out the longest?”

“Uh, Mary, Pete and Anthony.”

“Get them up quietly, then get the rest of your watch to get some sleep. I’ll take those three for second-shift day watch.”

“Roger, boss. Marty’s got Daniel’s scopes set up on that scaffold up there.” Gabriel pointed to Marty, who was lying nearly invisible above the huge loading dock, scanning out the top windows with Daniel’s rifle. “He says that’s pretty much the best vantage point we’re gonna get.”

“Send Pete up that way then send the other two to me.”

Nick took over Gabriel’s position next to the door after sending Mary and Anthony to cover the other two entrances into the building. He sat at Gabriel’s post for what felt like two hours before he finally checked his watch—twenty minutes had passed. He was glad they weren’t being slaughtered by hundreds of Chinese and North Korean troops, but Nick found himself wishing that something would happen.

“Boss, you got your comms on?” he heard Pete’s voice in his ear.

Shit. Careful what you wish for.
Nick swore at himself before toggling his radio.

“Yeah, Pete. What’s up?”

“Think I saw a cow, boss. Please advise.”

Nick chuckled and toggled his radio. “Is the cow wearing North Korean or Chinese colors?”

“That’s a negative, sir.”

“Sir? Confirmation on the cow, due west,” Mary radioed.

“I think I had eyes on a squirrel earlier, boss. Think they could be working together?” Anthony radioed.

Nick laughed. “I know it’s boring, guys, but we have to stay alert. We get incoming, we’ll only have a couple of seconds to respond. Keep your heads on swivels and your ears open, read me?”

“Roger that, sir.”

“And keep eyes on that cow. I don’t trust him.”

A few hours later, Johnny walked out of the Razor and joined Nick at his post.

“Get much sleep?” Nick asked.

“Few hours off and on. More than I’ve gotten in the last couple weeks, really.”

“So who’d you piss off to get a mission into the heart of North Korea?”

“I’ve been asking myself that question a bunch lately. I don’t think it was because we pissed anyone off, per se—just that they wanted the mission accomplished. They needed success.”

“Which is why they didn’t send a convict unit.”

“Correct. No offense. Command probably just figured an experienced operational detachment would have a better chance of getting to the AWACS crew.”

“And did you?”

Johnny shook his head. “Nope. Looks from all evidence like they survived, but they were gone by the time we got there. A lot of the tech was ripped out of the bird, but we demoed what was left. Then they were on us. NoKo Army. Whole battalion of ‘em.”

“It’s amazing any of you survived.”

“It was training. Training and luck. Eight of us managed to get away. They’ve been hunting us for the last week, picking us off one by one. We were lucky you came along—we had twenty rounds between the four of us.”

“Wish I could say you were out of the woods now, but I can’t guarantee that. We might be getting back into the same kind of trouble very soon.”

Johnny nodded, taking the cigarette Nick offered. “I guessed as much, what with a convict unit and a stealth Razor. What’s your mission, Marine?”

“No offense, sir, but we’re a pretty informal unit. You can just call me Nick.”

“Good enough. Your mission?”

“Acting on some intel we pulled out of a CDM, Command thinks that there’s a lab outside of Pyongyang that’s brewing some nasty shit. Shit that could lose us this war faster than we’re losing it on numbers alone.”

“I think that’s why the AWACS was out this way. Try to get eyes on that same lab. They got blown out of the air before they got within two hundred miles of it.”

“Assuming our speed holds, we should get a hell of a lot closer than that tonight.”

“I’ll help any way I can. My people will do the same.” Johnny nodded his head back at the Razor to indicate the sleeping Rangers.

“We’re going to be planning out tonight’s route in an hour or so. Any intel you guys have picked up will be invaluable.”

“Happy to. Anything else you need from us until then?”

“No, not really. We’ve got day watch covered. Five hours until we roll, so do whatever you want until then.”

“Fuck. I hate downtime.”

“Yeah. Yeah, so do I. But it’s kind of a necessity. The adaptive camouflage works during the day, of course, but it works a hell of a lot better at night.”

“So that’s why you’re rolling at night and covering during the day. Smart.”

“Yeah. The dark helps us out a lot. Fucks with my guys, though. We haven’t been on what you’d call a normal schedule for quite some time now. Price of being Special Forces, I suppose.”

“I wasn’t aware that there were any Special Forces convict units,” Johnny said, raising an eyebrow.

“We’re the only one.”

“How’d you manage that?”

“Training and luck. More the latter than the former.”

“Hey, boss. You still on?” Peter’s voice sounded in Nick’s ear.

“Yeah, Pete. What’s up?”

“Flash on the scope. Maybe two miles out to the southeast. Headed right this way.”

“All right. Keep me updated. Anthony, get everyone up and armed. Might be nothing, but we should probably be ready to scrap in case it’s not.”

“Roger that.”

Johnny headed back toward the Razor, turning over his shoulder as he walked. “Five-fifty-six?”

“Couple extra boxes under the comm station.”

Johnny nodded as he walked through the Razor’s back hatch. Nick could hear his voice boom inside the vehicle. “On your feet, Rangers! Carson, grab some ammo from under the comm station and load us up. We may have a situation on our hands soon, and I want the two of you on point.”

Christopher walked up next to Nick, yawning and lighting a cigarette. “Sounds like we may have some company soon.” He rubbed his eyes.

“Yeah. Have Gabriel and Mike get the wounded Ranger into the Razor, then lock it up.”

“You got it.”

As Nick’s men moved around him, he slung his M4 over his shoulder and climbed the narrow staircase to the scaffold. Peter had one eye screwed to the scope of Daniel’s M40A3 rifle.

“Anything yet?”

“Not much. Single vehicle. Guessing speed’s about twenty miles an hour. Not exactly burning to get here.”

“I’m sending Daniel up to swap out with you. Report to Chris downstairs, and he’ll give you shit to do.”

“Gotcha, boss.”

Nick patted Peter on the shoulder and walked back down the staircase. He located Daniel and pulled him aside. “Hey, brother. Need your eyes up on the scaffold. Pete’s got your rifle up there. Soon as you can tell what that thing is, hit me on the radio.”

“On it.”

It didn’t take Daniel long to make the switch, and less than five minutes later his voice was in Nick’s ear.

“Got it. It’s a tank. BMP-3 or BMP-1. North Korean Army, I’m guessing.”

“ETA?”

“Another five minutes or so, assuming it doesn’t change course.”

“Thanks, Daniel. Keep me posted.”

Nick motioned Martin over.

“Yeah, chief. What’s up?”

“BMP-series tank. What’ll kill it?”

“Depends. If it’s a BMP-3, it’s got a bit more armor. BMP-1s and 2s are pretty easy to crack. I’ve got enough stuff for any of ‘em, though.”

“Assume a BMP-3. Put a package together, but I hope we won’t need it.”

“Copy that, sir. Can I grab Pete to help me out?”

“Sure.”

“It’s a BMP-1, Nick. Old one,” Daniel’s voice sounded in his ear. “Saw a couple of ‘em when I was back in the 1-8. We’ve got him outgunned like mad.”

“Martin! BMP-1!”

“Right on.”

Nick looked around and saw that his men were armed and ready. He smiled to himself—he had no idea why the unit worked so well, but at times like this, he was glad it did. Nick quickly filled Johnny in on the approaching BMP-1.

“You see a bunch of those around here. Kinda rare to just see one. I’d advise caution. There’s probably more of ‘em out there.”

“I agree.”

“They’ve stopped, boss.” Daniel’s voice came over the radio. “Fifteen hundred feet out or so. Couple of guys are popping out now. North Korean uniforms. Looks like they’re on a smoke break. I count four.”

“Keep eyes on ‘em. Maybe they’ll finish up their break and just drive off.” Nick toggled off his radio and turned to Johnny. “What’s the standard crew compliment on one of those vehicles?”

“Three crew, up to eight passengers.”

“One of ‘em’s going back into the vehicle. He’s bringing someone out with him. Prisoner, looks like. Hands behind his back. Hood. Shit, boss.”

“What is it?”

“He’s wearing a U.S. Army uniform.”

“Nick, they’re kicking him down on his knees. Looks like they’re going to execute him.”

Nick’s mouth was dry, but he still managed to speak. “You have a shot?”

“That’s affirmative.”

“Take them down.”

“Fuckin’ A.”

“What’s going on?” Johnny asked, just as four loud pops echoed through the loading dock and shattered glass fell onto the concrete floor.

“Targets neutralized,” Daniel reported.

“Chris! Take four men and hide those bodies, and bring that soldier back here. Bryce, think you can drive that tank?”

“Probably.”

“Get it out of sight as soon as possible. Ninety seconds, people. We don’t know if anyone’s watching.”

“You sure that’s a good idea?” Johnny asked over his shoulder.

“Nope. Not at all. But I didn’t leave you guys out there to die, and I’m damn sure not leaving him out there.”

“Him? Him who?”

Nick quickly filled Johnny in as Christopher and his detachment filed out the door. By the time he finished explaining it, they were back with the bound soldier in tow.

“Stashed the bodies in the tank. Bryce got it running, found some trees to ditch it under. It’ll work for air cover, but if someone comes by on the ground in the next three hours, we’re fucked,” Christopher told him.

“Understood. Good work. How’s the prisoner?”

“Just about to find out.”

Gabriel removed the soldier’s hood, and Johnny smiled. The man under the hood was black, in his early forties, and had obviously been beaten. His mouth was covered in duct tape, but his eyes went wide with relief when he saw Johnny.

“Take his restraints off,” Johnny said. “That’s Master Sergeant Carl Rogan. He’s my SIC.”

Gabriel cut the zip-ties that bound Rogan’s hands, and the Master Sergeant reached up and pulled the duct tape from his mouth.

“Major! Shit, sir, am I glad to see you. Even if you are hanging out with Marines and criminals now.” Rogan laughed, standing shakily and saluting his commanding officer.

“At ease, Roge. Figured you for dead.” Johnny grinned, saluting back.

“Almost was. Bullets shredded my body armor and knocked me into the wreckage of the AWACS. Must’ve knocked me out. When I came to, I was in this hospital…more like a lab, I think…and they were pulling bullets out of me. They questioned me for, I dunno, days. When I didn’t give ‘em anything, they put a bag over my head and threw me in a truck. Now I’m here.”

“Do you know where they were keeping you?” Nick asked.

“No, sir, uh, Lieutenant. I wasn’t conscious when they brought me in, and I was hooded when they brought me out. It looked like some kind of science lab, though. Not like a regular hospital. There were a lot of computers around. Even the room they kept me in wasn’t so much a cell. Seemed like a storage room.”

“What kinds of questions did they ask?” Nick asked, nodding to Bryce as the young man rejoined the group.

“Weird stuff. Like what kind of intel we were acting on to send in the AWACS. They asked a lot of tech questions, too. Couldn’t have answered ‘em if I wanted to. I don’t even know what the hell they were talking about.”

“Anything you can remember would help, but we’re leaving in three hours. We’ve got some fold-down racks in the Razor. They’re horrible, but they’re better than the floor. Get some food in you and try to grab some sleep,” Nick told him.

Rogan shot a look at Johnny.

“Do as the man says, Roge. It’s his mission. We’re just along for the ride.”

“Yes, sir.”

Christopher led Rogan off toward the Razor.

Nick lit a cigarette and offered one to Johnny, who waved it off. “Nah. I’m supposed to have quit years ago.”

“Fair enough. And thanks for that, but this isn’t just my mission anymore. It’s our mission. Do me a favor?”

“Like I said, anything I can do to help.”

“As soon as it gets dark, we’re going to find someplace to stash those four North Korean soldiers. Then I’d like you and your team to take command of the BMP-1.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

“We’ll roll together. Take Ryan with you. You can roll point. We’ll be able to get a lot closer under North Korean colors, and you guys might pick up some transmissions through the NoKo network that we’re locked out of. You got someone who can wheel?”

“Monica’s one of the best there is.”

Nick nodded as he blew out smoke. “Let’s help Christopher and Bryce plan out the route.”

Christopher and Bryce joined Johnny and Nick, bringing with them the maps and satellite photos and unfolding them on a concrete slab.

“What’s up with the old-school? Why aren’t we just using the nav computers in your Razor to plot a course?” Johnny asked.

“We’ve got intel that the Chinese tech can pick up our energy signatures. The handhelds we’ve been using to talk on 1-9 Victor don’t put out enough power, but anything bigger probably does,” Nick told him.

“Fuck. That’s how they were tracking us. We had a couple of computers we’d salvaged from our M-ATV. We were trying to use them to get our position and find a way out.”

“What’s an M-ATV?” Christopher asked.

“Army talk for Cougar,” Nick told him. “Still got them, Major? The computers?”

“Nah. Last one got junked when they blew up Freddie’s legs. He had it in his pack.”

“We can use our tech when the Razor’s in stealth mode—probably best not to turn anything on otherwise. Bryce? How are we looking?”

“Good. Any idea what the top speed on that NK boat is?”

“Twenty-seven, twenty-eight miles an hour off-road. Maybe forty on.”

“We’re about one-eighty-five, one-ninety from our destination here.” Bryce pointed to the laboratory complex on the map. “At an average speed of thirty miles an hour, with the BMP-1 on point, we’re looking at just over six hours. Can still make it tonight.”

“Two hours to look around before daylight. Gotta say, not loving that timeframe for an incursion,” Christopher said, frowning.

“What about a cover location nearby? We might have to spend another day in the vehicles before we figure out what’s going on in there,” Nick said.

“Great. You guys are starting to smell, you know that?” Bryce deadpanned.

“Major, you know of anything along this route,” Christopher asked, tracing a line with his finger along the path Bryce had plotted, “that’s going to fuck with our program?”

Johnny grabbed Christopher’s hand and moved it back along the route about an inch and a half, stopping it on a small town about halfway along the trail.

“Here. We were here about six days ago. There were a lot of CDMs gathered here. About four or five units of ground troops, too. We managed to sneak away from them, but there were only six of us on foot. Two twelve-ton vehicles’ll be harder to get by, stealth mode or no.”

“Bryce, if we re-route, how much time do we lose?”

Bryce looked at the map for a few moments. “Assuming the detachment’s still there, we need to swing about ten miles wide of them to make sure they don’t pick us up. Extra hour, at least.”

“That cuts the arrival pretty close. Cover location?”

“We’re kind of short on info here.” Christopher shrugged. “Couldn’t tell you if any of these outbuildings are secure for stashing the Razor. My guess is no, but these satellite photos are from before the war.”

Nick looked around and spotted Mary talking to Ryan near the Razor. He waved her over. “Hey, Mary. Power question—will we have enough power to run the Razor in stealth mode during daylight tomorrow and still pick up enough solar to keep it in stealth at night?”

“Theoretically, yeah. But we’re going to have to switch to solid fuel for at least a couple of hours. And you know how that bitch eats fuel,” she said.

“Rough estimate?”

“Half our solid gone. It’ll fuck us if we have to top-speed it, but we’ll be fine if we can crawl out the same way we crawled in.”

“Thanks, Mary.”

Christopher checked his watch. “Dark in an hour, boss. Who do you want on body detail?”

“I’m going. I need to get my legs stretched anyway.”

“I’m with you,” Johnny said.

“I’ll go. I could use the air. Been inside too long,” Mary said, stretching her arms over her head.

“Right. Two more, and we should be good. Mary, go find us a volunteer.”

“And I’ll get Monica to come with and start familiarizing herself with the BMP,” Johnny said.

It was dark out, but Nick and his detail adjusted quickly. Gabriel and Michael had joined the detail and were helping Johnny and Mary pull the bodies out of the BMP-1. Nick and Christopher were scouting for a secure dumping location, smoking cigarettes as they walked north of the grove of trees where Bryce had parked the North Korean tank.

“Something ghoulish about this, boss.” Christopher shook his head. “Something about hauling around corpses just to get outside…it’s not right.”

“I was thinking that, too. But, you know. Fresh air, stretched legs. Get past the dead bodies, it’s not such a bad gig.”

“You’re a pro at looking on the bright side, Nick.”

“Speaking of bodies,” Nick said, stopping momentarily to snuff out his cigarette on the heel of his boot, “why do you think they drove Rogan all the way out here to shoot him?”

“Dunno. Especially if we’re assuming he came from the lab near Pyongyang. Long drive just to dump a body. ‘Specially in that antique,” Christopher said, jerking his head back at the BMP.

Nick’s right hand shot up, stopping Christopher from taking another step. Nick nodded his head down at the large, open pit in front of them.

“Think that might be why,” Nick said.

No more than five feet in front of the two men, spanning at least a hundred feet square, was a large open grave. There was no way to tell how deep it was—it was filled with bodies in Air Force, Army, Marine and convict uniforms. On top of the pile, closest to Nick and Christopher, were three men in flight suits and several more in the dark green BDUs of the 138th Rangers.

“Holy fuck,” Christopher breathed.

“Get back to the BMP. Pull Major Evans aside and tell him. Quietly.”

Christopher nodded and slowly backed away. A few seconds later, he was gone.

“Well…at least we found somewhere to stash the bodies,” Nick said to himself, trying not to look at the dead faces twisted in pain staring back up at him.