Hard Man to Kill (Dark Horse Guardian Series Book 4) (22 page)

~ Saleh ~

“Everything seems to be in order.” Saleh said as he walked in on Abdul, but he seemed to be having a daydream.  As Saleh glanced at Abdul’s computer, he noticed how he quickly minimized the screen. Saleh imagined he was on a porn site again.  For someone so staunch with his words, Saleh realized the pompous hypocrite Abdul really was. 

Abdul finally spoke. “Ah, that is good.  Sit down.  I want to talk about the hit.” Abdul kicked a chair toward him and zipped his fly.  Saleh averted his eyes.  He was always nervous about what Abdul was going to ask him.  Saleh kept his anxiety hidden.  Abdul had dark circles beneath his eyes as if he hadn’t slept for weeks.  He did not look well. 

“So, you have just come from Keegan’s place?” Abdul grunted.  “What’s the number in his army?  Has he brought more soldiers to help him?” 

“No.” Saleh responded.  “In fact, I think they are relaxed and going outside more every day.  They are becoming comfortable.  I think they might even be under the assumption that we have gone.  They seem to be feeling a sense of security.  The time is right to strike.”

Abdul didn’t like Saleh telling him what to do.  “What makes you think this is the right time?” he asked pointedly, his dark eyes flashing, roaming over Saleh making the anxiety worse.  Perspiration ran down his back, but Saleh did not waver.  In fact, he met Abdul’s eyes with defiance.

“It’s just a feeling I have.  From watching them, they are acting more normal.  They are not as guarded.  By leaving them alone and just watching, as you ordered – it has worked.  It’s a good thing Khouri did not get loose and crazy.  He would have tipped them off and made them go into hiding again.  They’ll never be easy targets if they’re hiding.”

Abdul ran his hand over his beard.  Saleh was correct.  It was
his
plan that created this unguarded moment.  Perhaps Saleh was much smarter than Ibrahim or any of the others. 

“Tonight, then.” Abdul leaned toward him, causing Saleh to almost stop breathing.   For the past few months, he realized Abdul was as crazy as his father and he needed to be put down like the rabid dog that he was. 

The others filtered in, there were fourteen in all.  Saleh watched as Abdul fist-bumped Ibrahim and hugged his brother.  Then Tim and Khouri arrived.  Lastly, the other ten from Massachusetts rolled in.  They’d been smoking at a hookah bar in town and reeked of whatever it was they smoked.  Abdul went over the details one last time.  The sun was setting, they were ready to strike.  The cache of weapons in the dining room was handed out.  Body armor was adjusted and night vision goggles were tucked into their sacks. They had obtained six rented BMW’s.  In the dusk, they quietly loaded the grenade launcher and AR’s into the trunk along with plenty of ammo.  Gasoline and other incendiary devices were careful put into the backseat area with the window rolled down. 

As Saleh got into the backseat, the gasoline fumes were pungent.  He slipped the keffiyeh over his head.  The black scarf would act as a face cover in the darkness and would also serve to hide their identity if security cameras captured them.  Saleh glanced at the night sky, a full moon tonight.  It was cloudy but the air was still, as if waiting for something to happen.

Saleh had kept the men busy at the hookah bar and knew for a fact that Ibrahim and Khouri had been upstairs with prostitutes most of the afternoon. Tim spent time getting the newcomers up to speed.  Abdul had been under the assumption the group had been scouting Keegan’s movements, when – in fact – none of them had been watching Keegan.

Saleh knew exactly what he had to do.  He had played the actions out in his mind a hundred times.  First you must become the monster to hunt the monster.  The drive to Clearwater Farm was a short one.  They found a wooded area to hide their vehicles.  He estimated they were about a half mile out.  As they approached the bluff that looked over Keegan’s residence, loud music was playing – it sounded like country music.  The pungent smell of burning seaweed and pine boughs drifted toward them, the prevailing wind was coming off the water.  Saleh could hear men laughing as they approached.  Running silently though a wooded area not covered by Keegan’s security camera, they got as close as they could without tripping the alarm. 

“Spread out.” Abdul whispered and motioned.  The ten new guys moved to the east and west creating a perimeter.  Saleh volunteered to carry the RPG, knowing full well it wasn’t loaded with a real rocket.  He hoped to God that Keegan’s men would kill them before they figured him out.  Abdul walked behind him with an AR15 pointed directly at him, motioning for him to continue.

Fort Gorges

~ Lara ~

“Oh God, this is primitive.” Monique glanced at Lara in the darkness of the ancient fort.  The women and children were camping there in silence. 

“We need to do everything exactly as Ben explained.” Lara was focused on the details. “You and I need to stand guard.   The important thing is to keep the children quiet.  They will sleep now from the sheer exhaustion of today.  That’s the one good thing about doing this at night.”

Covered with moss and vines, the granite fort was an amazing hiding place.  There were plenty of mice scurrying around her feet, nosing their way toward their provisions.  Or, were they rats?  She wasn’t sure, but the lantern kept them away for the most part.  Occasionally, she’d pick up a stone and toss it quickly toward one.  She didn’t want to call too much attention to them.  The vermin would be back in their sleeping holes by daybreak. 

She shivered, wondering what was happening on shore, but realized it was up to her to make sure Monique was up to the task of killing someone, if it came down to that. 

“Here’s your ammo.  I’ve laid it out in piles for you.  This is the perfect place to see anyone approaching.  This opening in the fort was an old gun turret.  It was designed to give you a perfect view while remaining protected.” Lara explained nervously.  “Let’s get the body armor on.  It’s important.”

The two women solemnly snugged their body armor on and wore helmets with G’s.  When looking through the G’s, Lara could see everything just as if it was broad daylight.  It also served as a com device, and she could see the positions of Ben’s men all around Clearwater Farm.  He’d left explicit instructions not to contact him or the team unless it was an emergency.  Their coms were on listen only mode.  The two women could hear the team’s communiques to one another. 

“This is amazing.” Monique muttered as she listened to the men speaking to each another in one-word sentences.  “They’re surrounding the guys who think they’re surrounding them…I can hear every voice and know who they are.  This must be what it’s like to be on a battlefield.  It’s fascinating.”

“No matter what we hear, we need to stay safe and protect this group.  That’s what Ben explained.  He said it could get very bad.  We cannot assume anything until he gives the all clear signal.  We need to follow his orders, no matter what.”

Monique nodded, but Lara knew she was listening to the sounds of the Dark Horse Guardians as they hid in blinds and climbed trees.  There would be no sleep on this quiet balmy late May evening.  Just watching, listening, waiting – and praying for the best.  She kept one eye on the rats scuttling nearby, and one eye on her watch post in the turret forty-five degrees away from Monique’s.  The thought crossed her mind that someday, she’d look back on all of this and marvel at how she did it.  She imagined sitting on the beach of Clearwater Farm with Ben, kissing him, holding his hand, happy again.  Relaxed. 

But, the little cynical little voice that lived in the back of her mind invaded her happy imaginary scene. 
You fool.  What did you think would happen when you married a black-op?  This is your life.  Get used to it.

~ Ben ~

With the sophisticated G’s, the team communicated with minimal sound.  The hunting blinds built little by little, night after night, were now their hiding spots.  He had gone over the details in several well-planned tactical sessions.  They’d take no prisoners this time.    

The snap of a dried twig alerted Ben and Elvis in the cover of the blind.  With the G’s, they could see the position of each man approaching.  Ben was hindered by the wound in his shoulder.  Everything took longer.  His muscle was shredded by the bullet he took and still healing; he only hoped this would not alter his shooting skills.  He controlled his breathing as he watched each man stationed around him.  Slowly, their targets made their way and he watched their movement as if it was broad daylight.  He had played this out so many times, the scope and layout of the battle before him was familiar. 

He knew once the first shot was fired, it would be a blood bath.  Most imperative was the safety and survival of his men.  If every Dark Horse Guardian survived, it would be a successful mission.  That was all he cared about at the moment.  He waited until the targets walked past him, a good distance away, before he let out a long, slow breath and whispered, “Now.”

Simultaneously, the gunfire was deafening.  Silver shadows pumping ammo into bodies, with the precision of the perfect hunting party.  The lasers painted their targets before they even knew what was happening.  But as each body dropped, they popped off rounds in a cataclysmic cacophony.  Ben knew he hit three of the targets center mass. 

As the ten minutes of complete chaos subsided, he spoke into the G. “Hey, check-in time….”  With his heart pounding, he waited and listened.  Elvis, Gus, Tom, Nate, Rusty, Bettencourt, and finally the detectives all said their names. The back-up team, comprised of Navy SEALs, Marines and Rangers each spoke.  Gus got hit with a round in his leg, but he had pressure on it and said it didn’t hit the artery.  Rusty twisted his ankle, but said he’d be all right. 

“Okay.  Stay put.  I want to make sure these guys are dead.  Elvis and I will be walking out there, so hold your fire.  We’ve got our HK’s.  Stand by.” Ben ordered. 

Elvis moved silently with Ben.  The two had their backs at a forty-five degree angle and rotated wordlessly as they’d done a million times on the battlefield.  Stepping over the first body, Ben immediately recognized Abdul.  He had been the last in.  What a leader.  Ben pushed his body over with his foot.  “One less piece of shit on this earth.” He murmured. 

As they moved further, in the foreground, a figure moved on the ground, and Ben heard the voice of Saleh.  “Help me…” 

“Let me take care of him…” Ben ordered Elvis to step back.  Bending down, he pulled the keffiyeh off the young man’s face.  Saleh was in pain.  Ben took his weapon and unloaded it, then set it aside.  Rendering aid to Saleh, he noticed his wound was painful but not fatal.  He was shot in the hip, but a major blood vessel had not been severed.  Ben wrapped the keffiyeh around the wound to slow the bleeding. 

“This damned thing is good for something.” Ben said as he touched Saleh’s hand.  “Stay here.  The medics are on their way and will treat you.  I’ve tagged you as a friendly.” 

The deal with Saleh had been simple: 
give me these guys and I’ll take out your father
. 
Then, you can become the ruler of the Islamic power base and I’ll support you.
  Pain sometimes created incredible strength and determination.  Ben learned that Saleh had personally suffered at the hands of the evil bastards running the sociopolitical show.  Raped at the age of nine by a group of tribal leaders,
Saleh longed for a different ideology
.  He felt compelled to do this thing, said it was his destiny.  And, Ben agreed to help him, with no one knowing.  Letting Saleh take the credit would make him a popular leader.  And, Ben knew: 
This would be how change was made, from the inside out
.  Giving good men, like Saleh, a power base, bestowing rights upon women, treating children with kindness, teaching them civility and a deep reverence for life. 
But, first Saleh had to survive this night
.

Little by little, with the help of Elvis, Ben walked by each body, photographing each face.  Once fourteen were accounted for, Ben spoke into the com.  “The detectives can call the police.  We have one here alive.  He’s the friendly.  Need a bus for him.  Meat wagon for the rest.” 

Now that the worst was over, he checked in with Lara.  “You okay, darlin?” 

“Yes, we’re fine.  What happened over there?  I watched it play out in real time, but did I hear Rusty and Gus say they were hurt?”

“Minor stuff.  Not to worry.  We’ve got the local boys coming to clean up the aftermath.  Will be out to get you in a few minutes.  Hang tight.” 

The next hour was filled with detectives and ballistic experts.  The team congregated on the beach momentarily, with the android dummies that were their saviors.  Gus was being treated for his wound.  Rusty’s ankle was wrapped securely.  Ben’s shoulder wound had opened up again and was bleeding.  The medic bathed him with antiseptic and sewed a few stitches.  His adrenaline took care of the pain for the moment.

“Damn.  We did it.” Ben felt giddy for a moment as he looked at the robots.  “Dark Horse Guardians ~ they look like dummies, but they’re not.”  The sound of the team’s laughter drifted over the water.  His thoughts turned to Lara and Monique…the women and children.  “We’ve got to get the fort.”

It seemed to be a routine thing, pushing the rigid inflatables into the water, hopping in and starting the motors.  Pulling up to the side of the forty-foot sailboat, Ben started the diesel engine and pointed the sloop in the direction of Fort Gorges.