Somebody yelled ahead, a warning shouted in Arabic, and the distinctive rattle of an AK-47 followed, bullets pinging off the deck. Dawson ducked, taking cover as Control squawked in his ear.

  “You’ve got a hostile, port side of the upper deck, armed with an AK.”

  Gunfire rang out again, this time the bullets on Spock’s side of the ship. Dawson popped up, taking aim, finding his target exactly where Control reported him to be. He squeezed the trigger of his M4 twice, the piece of shit dropping like a sack of potatoes.

  “Zero-One, Zero-Two. I don’t know what you’re doing down there, but you’ve got a whole herd of unhappy coming toward you. Six on the starboard side, main deck.”

  “Copy that, Zero-Two. Preparing to engage. Swing around the port side and prepare for insertion on the rear deck.”

  “Roger that, Zero-One. Approaching from port side.”

  Dawson glanced over to check the position of Spock’s team. “Team Two, Zero-One. Maintain position.”

  Spock and the others gave a thumbs-up as Dawson advanced. He took a knee beside Atlas, behind a large storage container that would give them a field of fire all the way up the starboard side.

  “This is Control. Six hostiles about to reach your position, over.”

  Dawson didn’t respond, instead shifting over slightly, the heavy footfalls of the approaching enemy telling him everything he needed. They were less than twenty feet away.

  “Three seconds,” said Control in his ear.

  “This is Zero-One. Hold your fire until they’re all on the rear deck. Zero-Five, you take the first shot, over.”

  “Roger that, Zero-One,” replied Spock. “Here they come.”

  Gunfire erupted, but it wasn’t from Spock. It was an AK. “Allahu Akbar!” shouted one of the enemy, followed by a chorus from the others as they rushed onto the rear deck, spraying bullets indiscriminately.

  “Opening fire,” came Spock’s calm voice, M4s responding from the port side.

  Dawson rose with Atlas, opening up on what remained of the enemy, which turned out to be a single gunman, the other five already down. Dawson held up a fist. “Hold your fire! Watch for additional hostiles. Control, Zero-One. Report, over.”

  “Zero-One, Control. We show no hostiles, however, there could be more inside. Proceed with caution, over.”

  “Copy that, Control. Condor Zero-Two, commence your insertion, over.”

  “This is Condor Zero-Two. Inserting now.”

  Dawson turned to see the Sea Hawk approaching from the rear port side. He ignored it and instead directed his attention at the overhead decks, carefully watching for any movement in the windows or doorways.

  “Second deck, left,” said Niner, squeezing off a shot as Dawson adjusted his aim, a gunman falling out a hatchway, confirming his worst fear. The enemy was still inside, and clearing this boat would be a deck by deck, room by room effort, where the enemy would always have the drop on them.

  The Sea Hawk approached the rear deck as Dawson continued to watch for additional hostiles. “Control, Zero-One, we need a count. Do we have any satellite footage? Anything that shows how many hostiles arrived in those boats and then how many left, over?”

  “Stand by, Zero-One. We have some low angle footage that we’re reviewing now. Preliminary count is thirty-three on the boats when they arrived, twenty-two when they left. However, confidence is low in the arrival number being accurate. The satellite was just too low on the horizon.”

  Dawson cursed as he glanced over at Atlas. “That pretty much makes the count useless,” said the big man, and Dawson agreed.

  “Copy that, Control. We won’t be using those numbers until your confidence is high in their accuracy. Zero-One, out.”

  The Sea Hawk lifted off behind them and footfalls rushed toward him as he continued to watch for hostiles. Red took a knee beside him, joining in the watch. “Sitrep?”

  “Eight hostiles down,” replied Dawson. He pointed to a nearby set of stairs. “Take your team to the upper deck. Start clearing room by room, working your way down. Be careful. There might still be survivors mixed in with the hostiles.”

  “Roger that.” Red activated his comms. “Teams Three and Four, proceed to upper deck on me.” He advanced with the other new arrivals and rushed up the stairs. Dawson continued to cover them and breathed a little easier when they disappeared inside.

  He rose. “This is Zero-One. Zero-Five and One-Two, hold the rear deck for exfil. Rest of Teams One and Two, on me.” He advanced toward a nearby hatch, entering the ship and a potential shooting gallery. Gunfire erupted above them, confirming what he had feared.

  This was going to get ugly.

  Red advanced, firing disciplined rounds at the doorframe the shooter had ducked behind. He broke to the opposite side of the corridor and held his fire. “Reloading!” he shouted, indicating to those behind him that he wasn’t, so they didn’t replace his fire with their own. The moron took the bait, stepping out to take advantage of the perceived vulnerability. Red squeezed the trigger twice, both rounds slamming into the jihadist’s chest. The man slid down the doorframe and Red advanced past him as Mickey confirmed the kill.

  Red and Mickey reached the end of the corridor, encountering no more resistance. “Hold this position.”

  “Yes, Sergeant,” replied Mickey.

  Red approached the first closed door, finding the lock scarred by multiple gunshots. He turned to the others. “Jagger, you’re with me. Two to a room.”

  Jagger joined him as Casey and Angus took up position at the far end of the corridor. Red braced for what might be on the other side of the door then nodded at Jagger, who booted it open. Red rushed in, his M4 slung, his Glock gripped firmly in front of him. In close quarters like this, you wanted control, not firepower, though the 9mm had plenty of that.

  He pressed to the right, clearing his side of the room as Jagger followed him in, taking the left. “Clear,” announced Red as Jagger confirmed the same before taking up position at the bathroom door. Red stepped over, kicked it open, and Jagger led the way in, quickly cursing. Red entered and closed his eyes for a moment at the sight of a young man, his body riddled with bullet holes, dead in the shower. “Get a photo for identification.”

  “Zero-Two, Zero-Four. Male and female deceased in room two-zero-one. There’s evidence the woman was raped.”

  “Copy that. Document the scene then move on to the next room.”

  Red and Jagger cleared three more rooms before they reached the one where the gunman had made his last stand. He stepped inside and grimaced, finding a young man on the floor, his head hacked off, a severed skull lying five feet away against the wall.

  But that wasn’t the worst of it.

  A young woman lay tied to the bed, her face bloodied and bruised, with evidence of severe trauma to her vaginal area. It was clear they had raped her repeatedly. Fresh bullet wounds to her chest, still oozing, suggested she had been killed only minutes ago, her suffering at the hands of the monster they had just shot likely lasting over an hour.

  Jagger cleared the bathroom as Red checked for a pulse, confirming what was already obvious. The body was still warm, indicating she had suffered for some time. At least she wouldn’t have to live with the memory of what had happened to her.

  “God, she reminds me of Angela.” Jagger leaned in, taking a picture. Red stepped closer and cringed, the resemblance to Niner’s girlfriend uncanny.

  “Thank God Niner didn’t see this. I don’t know what I’d do if someone reminded me of Shirley.” Red stepped back, activating his comms. “This is Zero-Two. We’ve got two more victims in Room two-zero-six. One Caucasian male, early twenties, beheaded. One Caucasian female, early twenties, evidence of repeated rape. Moving to next cabin, over.”

  Colonel Clancy’s voice came in through his earpiece. “Zero-Two, Control Actual. Copy your last. All teams, continue clearing the boat and keep the emotions in check. We don’t want any mistakes being made. I know I don’t have to tell any of you how to do your jobs. Remember your training. It will get you through this. And if it makes you feel any better, we’re tracking the bastards who did this. You’ll get your chance for vengeance. Control Actual, out.”

  Red inhaled sharply, burying the rage and the heartbreak. He hoped the colonel was right, that they did get a chance to deliver justice, because far too often the world made excuses for the actions of fundamentalists and those that supported them, either actively or tacitly. It was time to unleash hell on everyone responsible.

  For nothing could justify this.

  Nothing at all.

  Dawson waited for the colonel to finish speaking, both ends of the corridor now secured, Atlas and Sergeant Gerry “Jimmy Olsen” Hudson holding either end. No one said anything as angry shouts in Arabic continued on the other side of the door. A woman sobbed, though for the moment it didn’t sound like she was being assaulted physically. He signaled Niner, who booted open the door, and Dawson stepped inside. The vermin spun toward them, his eyes bulging as his waning member wagged. Dawson shot him in the stomach and the man collapsed to his knees, screaming in agony. Dawson double-tapped the scumbag’s balls and he fell to his side, writhing in pain before Dawson delivered two to the rapist’s head.

  The young woman, covered in blood and tears and worse, screamed, scurrying into the corner. Dawson holstered his weapon as Niner confirmed the rest of the room was clear. He held out a calming hand. “Ma’am, we’re US Army Special Forces. You’re safe now.”

  Her eyes bulged. “Americans?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She leaped from the corner and into his arms, sobbing uncontrollably. “Oh, thank God you’re here!” Her accent was thick, though her English was excellent. He was guessing Chinese.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Xiao Sui.”

  He nodded at Niner, who activated his comms. “Control, One-One, we have a survivor. Asian female, early twenties. Evidence of severe beating and sexual assault. Says her name is Xiao Sui, over.”

  Dawson gently pushed the still distraught woman away. “Miss, I want you to get dressed. We’re going to take you some place safe, then we’re going to evacuate you by helicopter once we’ve secured the boat.”

  She stared down at her naked body and her shoulders quickly rolled inward as she covered her breasts, swinging her hips away from him and toward the wall.

  “You have nothing to be ashamed of.” He smiled, tapping at his eyes. “And we’re both gentlemen. Eye contact only.”

  “Thank you,” she murmured.

  “Why don’t you get some clothes, go into the bathroom and clean up? We’ll wait for you out here.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Dawson and Niner both turned their backs on her and she scrambled about the room then disappeared into the bathroom, still whimpering.

  Niner stared at the body of the man who had inflicted so much pain. “Maybe if these psychos weren’t so sexually repressed, the world would be a better place.”

  Dawson grunted. “Rape will always be a weapon of war among the uncivilized. And these guys are trapped back in the twelfth century. Just because these people use modern weapons doesn’t mean they’re civilized in any way. They’ve been raised from the moment they came out of the womb to not only hate Jews, but to hate anybody who’s different from them. You saw that poll that came out last week, showing the majority of Gazans not only supported Hamas, but believed they had done nothing wrong on October seventh, even after being shown the photos and videos. Remember, they elected Hamas to lead them, knowing what they stood for.

  “These people are no different. Their hatred of non-Muslims is instilled in them from birth. And remember, they don’t just hate non-Muslims. The civil war they’re fighting is against Muslims. People like this hate everybody that doesn’t believe exactly what they do. And you can’t blame Islam entirely. If it was a different religion that dominated this region, they’d be just as hateful. It’s tribalism, and it’s a concept we in the West like to think we got rid of, but it’s coming back with a vengeance.

  “We like to think we’re better than countries like Saudi Arabia, that’s so dominated by religion. But we stand alone in the Western world when it comes to how deeply religion pervades our politics and our judicial system. There’s nothing wrong with religion. I’m a religious man myself, but the separation of church and state is something we seem to have forgotten. And it’s something scum like this have never known. People like this, and so many people back home who claim to live by what’s taught in the Bible yet hate so many of their fellow man, need to take a serious look in the mirror and ask themselves, would Jesus hate his neighbor simply because he put a different lawn sign up than you did?”

  Niner frowned. “Shit like this really does make you think, doesn’t it? When I see all this insanity going on around the world, it makes me think that maybe a nice little Extinction Level Event might be in order. Wipe the slate clean, let nature take its course, give someone other than humans a chance.”

  Dawson agreed. “Unfortunately, there are a lot of people out there who are good people and don’t deserve to die just because other people chose to hate. Hate is a choice, and it’s one that just doesn’t make sense to me. Why would anyone choose to hate? To be angry all the time? To prefer to see their country slide backward? To despise the other side so much you’d rather see your country destroyed than let the other guy win? That, I just don’t understand. Both sides have to sit back and ask themselves, do they truly believe that half their country is evil, half their country is stupid, half their country wants to destroy everything that’s been built over two-hundred-and-fifty years? And when both sides sit and ask themselves those questions, and hopefully come to the same conclusion that it can’t be true, that none of it can be true, then you have to ask yourself, why then are we feeling that way? I think there are three reasons. Our politicians, our news, and social media. And until we accept that fact, we’re going to continue to spiral into a cesspool of hate and violence.”

  “Amen to that, brother. Whenever I visit my folks, my dad forces us to sit and watch MSNBC for half an hour, then Fox for half an hour, and it’s a real eye opener. It’s two different worlds that they’re reporting on. No wonder everybody hates each other, because they’re being lied to from both sides. Yet if you tell anyone that their favorite politician or news channel or guru is lying, they just can’t accept that it’s true.”

  Dawson jerked his chin at the terrorist dead at their feet. “Just like this guy. Everything he’s ever been taught, everything he’s ever heard, says that we’re bad, we’re evil, we’re out to destroy him and everything he believes in, his entire way of life. So, of course, he hates us. And when someone tries to tell him it isn’t true, he doesn’t believe them, because he’s never heard anything different.”

  The door to the bathroom opened and Xiao Sui stepped out, her hair brushed, her face washed, a set of modest clothes now covering her body. “At least you get to vote. In China, we’re not allowed to say anything against the government, to watch anything they haven’t censored. I would die to live in a country where I was allowed to choose my leaders. But from what I heard you saying, it sounds like democracy is the failure our leaders claim it to be.”

  Dawson frowned. “It would certainly seem so, wouldn’t it? But I have faith in America and Americans. In the end, they’ll do the right thing and recognize that they’re being manipulated. And when they do, I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of their wrath. We may have lost our way, but we’ll find it again, don’t you doubt it. She’s still the greatest nation on earth, and when the people wake up and realize who the real enemy is, God help them.”

  15 |

  Operations Center 2, CIA Headquarters Langley, Virginia

  “Found it!” Tong grinned at Leroux, victory Vs briefly extended into the air from both hands.

  Leroux returned the smile. “What did you find?”

  “Their launch point. The Pentagon is trying to get the count from satellite footage at the beginning of the attack, but the satellite is too low on the horizon to get anything accurate. I had the computer give me a launch window, then checked our satellite coverage of the major population centers along the coast of Yemen then bingo, five boats all leaving Nishtun at the same time, heading in the direction of where the MS Horizon would be seven hours later.”

  Leroux eyed the map. “Nishtun isn’t Houthi territory.”

  “No, but I figured they’d use something closer to their target as their staging area, and I was right. They’ve got a hell of a lot longer ride home, assuming they’re going to land on the west coast rather than southern.”

  Leroux leaned back, folding his arms. Tong never ceased to amaze him. She was incredibly good at her job, a huge asset to the team, and a good friend, despite her feelings for him. He had learned to live with the fact she was attracted to him, and he would be lying if he denied his own attraction. But he was in a committed relationship, and happily so. “Good work. Do we have a count?”

  “Yep. Five boats, seven each. I’ve got clear imagery of the boats being loaded. I traced them out of the harbor and away from the coast. Nobody rendezvoused with them to add more, so I think we can trust that thirty-five is the number.”

  “Excellent.” He turned to Child. “And you’ve reconfirmed the Pentagon’s count for those that left?”

  “Yes, sir. I’ve got four hostiles on three boats, and five on two, and three hostages per boat. Total of twenty-two hostiles and fifteen hostages.”

  “That means we’ve got thirteen left on board. How many have Bravo Team eliminated so far?”

  Packman responded. “I’ve been keeping track. One sniper when they first boarded, six when the group on deck were ambushed, one more before they made entry, then Red’s team took out one and Dawson’s team took out one. By my count, it’s ten so far.”

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20