Echo Six: Black Ops 8 - ISIS Killing Fields (12 page)

Talley was already putting together a hundred questions for her. Like how come a Syrian was working for CIA, in a trusted position, supposedly monitoring sophisticated electronic gear that would be invaluable to the enemy?

It's no wonder she speaks fluent Arabic. She learned
it at her mother's knee.

He shelved his questions for later. She was looking at him.

"If you want me to guide us back to Sykes, Commander, I’ll show you the best way."

He considered for about a half second and dismissed it. "We're not going home. We have an operation to complete. We're going to Al-Amoh. If your electronics don't pack up on the way, I'd like to think you could give us a direct route, one that avoids the trouble spots. ISIS-held towns and villages."

Her dark eyes flashed as she regarded him, and he liked to think he saw honesty and truth in the dark, deep pupils. "I can do that. I do not need the equipment. I know a way we can reach Al-Amoh out of sight of ISIS. A dried up river bed, not far from here."

He still didn't trust her, not all the way, but time would tell.

DiMosta was watching their back trail, and he gave the warning, "They're coming. I'd guess they'll have us in sight inside of half a minute."

His options had narrowed to one. "Give the directions to Bielski. Get aboard. We're leaving now."

He was already hitting the gas pedal. As he swung aboard, he had to grab the frame with both hands to stop the violent motion hurling him back to the sand. Geena leaned over, hooked her hands on his webbing, and helped him back into the vehicle. He went to thank her, but she was already turning away to shout to Bielski.

"You see the low hill ahead. There's a narrow cut that goes over the center. Follow it."

He gave her a quick glance. "Are you sure?"

"Do it. And be careful the other side. There's a long drop into what looks like a ravine."

"A ravine?"

She grinned. "It isn't a ravine. Drive the vehicle over the top, and it'll start to drop the other side. You don't need to worry. It's no more than a meter. I doubt it'll damage anything. My father did it in his old Land Rover, so this light vehicle should be okay."

"Land Rovers are tough," Guy growled from the back seat.

Bielski looked pained. "Not those things again. I never want to see another Land Rover as long as I live."

He'd already pointed the buggy at the low hill, and the wheels ran into the narrow cut so he couldn't steer. Guy touched his shoulder, and Talley turned to look behind them. The first of the pursuing vehicles had started to appear through the dust cloud.

"I see them."

The Pole glanced at him, "Boss, are you sure about this? Look at that drop. We could be going over a cliff."

He jerked his head to the front. They'd slowed, and ahead of them the wheels were tilting upward, pointing at the sky. There was nothing to see in front of them except a void. She'd told him the drop was a meter, but it could be a thousand meters if she was lying.

Do I trust her, or is she a Shaheed? Then again, they’re coming up fast, almost on us. It
’
s our sole chance. Take the leap or die.

"Hit the gas, and take us over." He called the rest of the men, "This is Echo One. We're going over a blind drop. Keep the wheels turning. It'll be okay."

Two clicks answered him, and then another two. Then they were airborne.

A meter is a long way down when you don't know what's coming next. He heard every man in the buggy expel their breath as they touched solid ground after the short flight through space. The wheels had locked inside the narrow ravine, and they couldn't get out if they'd wanted to. Bielski drove on for three hundred meters until they came to a fork in the ravine. The right fork looked wider, but she snarled, "Go left, go left," as he hesitated.

The narrow walls of the shallow cut closed in on them. The rubber of the tires was scraping along the sand and gravel of the long dried up stream, and he felt if he leaned a foot to the right, he'd brush along the sides. He leaned nearer to her.

"How long does this go on? If it gets any narrower, we'll be stuck."

"It’s wide enough for us to get through," she insisted, "I told you, we went through in a Land Rover."

"How long ago?"

She looked him in the eyes, and her own eyes crinkled. "A few years."

"Things change."

Her smile widened. "Not as much as you'd think, Commander. A thousand years ago, this ravine existed much like it did today. We picked potsherds from what used to be the riverbank. I imagine they used to collect water from here when the stream still ran. They were also fighting over this place back then, and in a thousand years time, they'll still be fighting. That's why my father took us to the States when I was young. He lost heart."

"What made him make the final decision?"

She paused then, and he thought she wasn't going to answer. Finally, she replied, "It was when they murdered my mother. He couldn't take anymore. He decided to leave and take me to the United States. After college, CIA was looking for people fluent in Arabic and with local knowledge, so it seemed like a good fit. I joined up, and here I am."

He glanced at her, reaching for the right words. "I'm sorry about your mother."

She returned the look. "Thank you."

Talley looked behind and saw the other two LSVs keeping pace. A few hundred meters back, there was a plume of sand, vehicles coming up behind. He called the rearmost vehicle with Roy Reynolds as the wheel. DiMosta answered.

"If you're worried about those vehicles behind, it's okay. The Iraqis are following. I've been watching them for the past few minutes."

The Humvees might just make it, but the truck? It doesn't seem possible.

"How many vehicles in sight?"

"Three. You're wondering about the truck, I guess. I don't know how they managed it, but it's somehow scraping along the ravine. Fear lent them wings, I guess. Maybe they ripped off the fenders, or they just fell off as they started along the ravine. But they're there, trying to keep up."

"Any sign of hostile activity?"

"Negative."

"Copy that. Keep watching."

"That's a roger."

Guy leaned over from the back. "We got away with that one, but they'll work out where we went, sooner or later. Then they'll come a'gunning for us."

"We stay on mission. We're heading to Al-Amoh."

A pause. "Deeper into Syria, got it. If ISIS works out our destination, they'll call in reinforcements. We could bite off more than we can chew, Boss. The way I see it, we need more men. A lot more men."

"We have more men, Guy. Around forty Iraqi Special Forces, at the last count, although we don't know how many they lost back there."

There was a pause as he digested what he'd just heard. He shook his head in disbelief. "You're not serious? We're driving into an ISIS hotspot, and they're on alert. They'll come at us with everything they have, and you intend to rely on a bunch of losers and no-hopers to prop up our defenses? They're not fit to be militia, let alone Special Forces. You've seen them."

"They’re all we have, so we’ll have to show them how to be soldiers."

"But..."

He made a chopping motion with his hand. "No buts. Isn't there a saying about if life gives you lemons, you make lemonade?"

Guy stared back in disgust. "Life sure gave us a bunch of fucking lemons. We'll need a miracle to take the fort with those men."

"In that case, Sergeant, you'd better pray for a miracle."

* * *

Al-Khalil raged at his men, who were sitting on the sand, listening to his harangue. "You're cowards, all of you. Cowards. Why are the foreign infidels not dead? Because you did not fight hard enough, that's why! If you'd been brave and kept attacking, we would have defeated them. Now, we may have lost them altogether. If that’s true, I'll punish every man. You're not fit to be warriors of the Prophet. Cowards, the lot of you!"

Abu Abbas got to his feet. He wasn't the same man he'd been that morning. Most of his men were dead after the abortive ambush. Now he could number no more than three survivors, apart from him, from the thirty he'd led in the disastrous attack. He was furious with al-Khalil. He knew if the Commander had come sooner, had been quicker to react when his men tangled with their enemies, most would still be alive, and the foreigners would be dead.

"Commander al-Khalil, you dishonor the brave men who died today. I cannot speak for your men," he let the open inference hang in the air for a second, "But my men fought bravely, and many of them died. It is unseemly to suggest they were cowards."

Al-Khalil bit off an angry retort. His men were murmuring agreement, and deep down, he knew part of the responsibility for the failed attack was his. He'd been too slow, much too slow. If he'd gone in earlier, they could have wiped out the enemy soldiers. Some of them knew it. He’d gone too far.

He inclined his head and assumed a grave expression. "They were brave men, Abu Abbas, and I salute them. We all salute them." The murmurs of approval meant he'd said the right thing, "Even so, we still face a huge problem, to find out where they're going. They can cause incalculable damage to our supply lines, and command and control. That is our mission priority. Find them, and then destroy them. Otherwise, they can ruin much of what we have built and shed lives to achieve." He stared at Abbas. "Including your brave fighters, my friend, but we must find those men."

There was a long pause as they digested his words. In the silence, a voice came from the rear, "I know who they are and where they're going."

The crowd parted. A man appeared and strode toward him. Al-Khalil hadn't realized he was in the area. Hasan Jafaar, a close confident of ISIS Supreme Caliph Yusef Pasha. He was a short man, with a slight, wiry frame and a deep lined face that made him look as if he should have been dead many years before. A turban perched on his head, black, the color of ISIS. His beard was short and straggly, and he wore wire-rimmed spectacles. Even his robe was non-descript, little more than a collection of patched rags of varying colors. He looked like a failed bazaar merchant, an impression he cultivated. Hasan Jafaar was a man who cherished his anonymity.

Al-Khalil adopted a smile he didn't feel as he went to meet him, his arms extended.

"Hasan, my good friend, it is good to see you again. I had no idea you were planning to join us."

Jafaar didn't return the smile. "The Caliph has heard reports. Disquieting reports about a group of foreign soldiers who entered our country."

"That is correct. I called this meeting to discuss how to find and kill them. Please, join us while we make preparations. You said you knew where they're going. Would you explain what you mean? Do you have some kind of surveillance we're unaware of, a drone, perhaps?"

Jafaar sneered at him. "You have no idea of the range of resources the Caliph has available to him."

"Of course not, Hasan, but I have news that may interest you. I can tell you who is leading these men. It is the NATO Special Forces officer, Talley. The same man who bested our men on the Iranian border. And now he has killed one of my men in cold blood. A cousin.”

"Talley." He mulled the name over, savoring it, already smelling the blood of the infidel officer.

"Yes. He must die. I want him dead. We must get to him before he escapes across the Iraqi border."

"He will not escape, Khalil. His fate is sealed. We know where they are going. A source has provided us with the name of the target these foreigners plan to attack. Al-Amoh."

"Al-Amoh." Al-Khalil's expression filled with dismay, "How could they possibly know what we have at that fort? We've kept the secret well hidden. There's no way they could have found out. If they were successful, it could..."

He failed to find words to describe what he meant, so Jafaar supplied them for him. "It could destroy our activities in this region. Yes, that is true. The command and control center we've built up in the fort, together with facilities to resupply our fighters, make it the most important installation in the region. You know what you have to do."

"Kill them all."

He replied with a cruel smile. "Kill them all before they get a chance to attack. The security of the fort has always depended on secrecy. Now they know, it’s a matter of time before they destroy it."

"Do they fully understand its importance?"

Jafaar's headshake was definite. "No, they do not, otherwise they’d have rained missiles onto the buildings in an effort to annihilate it." He closed his eyes and considered his answer, "Not that it would make much difference. Our materials and equipment is located deep underground. It would take them days to get inside.”

"What about our people?"

Jafaar made a cutting motion with his hand. "There is no possibility of them remaining undetected. We must stop the infidels from getting inside."

"In that case, we will attack at once. It won't be difficult to find them now we know where they're going."

"I will inform the Caliph. He will be pleased to learn of your enthusiasm. I trust this time you will use a greater degree of skill and judgment. Caliph Pasha only has limited patience with failure, my friend. There are many tall buildings inside this country. They have a multitude of uses, much more than admiring the view, and it is easy for a man to fall off.