Battlecraft (2006) s-3 Page 25

  Allah's blessings on his ambitions were something Marbuk truly expected. His bold chastisement of the sheikh for his wanton fornicating must have been noted in the Great Benefactor's Book of Behavior and Deeds, as was his criticism of the late King Hussein and Queen Noor. Marbuk fully expected the sheikh to go back to his evil ways at the first opportunity, and this would ensure that the Jordanian would be the real leader of al-Mimkhalif. After his death and the two angels examined him as he lay freshly buried in his grave, Marbuk would ascend to Paradise to exist for an eternity with seventy beautiful houris. This holy reward would make his time on earth seem less than a snap of one's fingers.

  Contented and optimistic, Marbuk enjoyed the cigarette as he contemplated the moon above the desert.

  .

  OPERATIONAL AREA

  0315 HOURS

  THE west wall of Fortress Mikhbayi loomed just on the horizon, looking shadowy in the dull light of moon and stars. The Odd Couple slowed their pace as Mike Assad contacted Brannigan via the LASH headset. "Objective in sight! Hold up while we check it out. Oven"

  "Roger, out," said Brannigan's voice.

  Mike and Dave Leibowitz felt safe enough to continue forward in upright positions, but at a slow pace. They carefully scanned the terrain around them through their night-vision goggles. Mike had determined that security was lax on that side of the facility from having spent time there, but it was wise to always expect the unexpected. Especially with Kumandan in the vicinity. Mike recalled the al-Mimdehalif field commander had a penchant for suddenly changing routines and procedures. The guy was as restless as a prowling leopard.

  The pair instinctively spread out a bit more as they drew within fifty meters of the fortress. When they reached the base of the wall, they stopped to spend five minutes listening for sounds in the immediate area.

  "Silent as the grave" Dave observed.

  "You could've used a pleasanter comparison," Mike complained. He turned to let Dave remove the grappling hook and line from his harness. They had already decided that it would be best for Mike to make the first climb for a look-see since he was familiar with the area. He would be able to quickly spot anything unusual.

  "Okay," Dave said. "Do it!" He stepped back with his CAR-15 ready as he looked upward for any interlopers who might make a sudden appearance while Mike was hefting himself upward.

  Mike swung the hook, then sent it flying upward over the wall. It landed with a clink, and both waited to see if there would be a reaction. When nothing happened, Mike grabbed the line and tugged to make sure it was anchored securely. Then he began going up to the top of the six-meter-high wall. When he climbed over the parapet, he knelt down to observe the interior. The parade ground to his front was empty. His eyes roamed to the spot where Commodore Muhammad Mahamat had gotten his head lopped off. He shuddered involuntarily, remembering the grisly sight. He quickly got back to business, noting that no guards or nightly wanderers were present in the area.

  "Skipper, I'm on the wall," he whispered in the LASH. "Looks good."

  Back in the column, Brannigan gave the word to resume the march. It took the main group less than five minutes to join Dave Leibowitz. The grappling hooks began flying, then were checked by Mike above to make sure they could support the weight of the climbers.

  "C'mon up," he invited them. 'The celebration will begin shortly."

  Immediately a half-dozen SEALs began the ascent of the wall.

  .

  AZAM MARBUK'S QUARTERS

  THE field commander formerly known as Kumandan liked sitting in the dark during night hours when he was unable to sleep. There was something restful about the solitude that eased his mind into deep contemplation. Many people with insomnia complained about the condition, but as far as Marbuk was concerned it gave him an advantage over those who required eight hours of slumber a night. That was the time when he mulled over past events and made himself ready for future activities. Thus, when he emerged into the waking world in the morning, the Jordanian knew exactly when, where, and how he would take action on the coming day.

  Marbuk stood up and stretched, then ambled toward the window. He glanced out, and suddenly his instincts kicked his psyche into an even higher state of alertness. He grabbed his German light-enhancing binoculars, focusing them on the wall opposite the compound. He could see uniformed, armed men climbing silently and steadily over the parapet, dropping into kneeling positions as each arrived. Marbuk's first instinct was to call out the guard, but he quickly changed his mind. The security force at the fortress wasn't all that sharp. When he took over al-Mimkhalif, there would be no full-time rear-echelon guard duty. Everyone would be a mujahideen, and such soft assignments would be rewards for enduring the dangers and hardships of active combat. Veterans of fighting would be given breaks from the grind by being rotated from operational status to safeguarding facilities when practical.

  Marbuk grabbed his AK-47 and a bandolier of ammunition by his bedstead, rushing from the room and across the building to the sheikh's suite. If he could rouse up the bodyguards and catch the raiders in the open, he would receive full credit for saving not only the sheikh's life, but the al-Mimkhalif organization too.

  When he reached the bodyguards' quarters, he burst in. "Faiyak--wake up!" he ordered.

  Alif and Taa sat up in their bunks, coming instantly awake with their bodyguard instincts in high gear. "What do you require of us, effendiT Alif asked, grabbing his Beretta pistol.

  "Where is Baa?" Marbuk asked.

  "He is standing watch at Sheikh Omar's suite," Alif explained. He and Taa were already getting dressed.

  "Just as well," Marbuk said. "He is still in a daze from the attack on the yacht." He saw the trio's arsenal in a glass cabinet on the other side of the room. AK-47s, bandoliers, and even hand grenades were inside. "We are being attacked. Even now a force of infidels has snuck over the west wall. Get your AK-47s and some grenades. The three of us are going to give them a hot reception."

  Alif went to the closet and grabbed a pair of combat vests. He tossed one to Taa and began putting on the other. With that done, they went to the cabinet, getting three bandoliers and two grenades each. The latter was stuffed into the vest pockets.

  "Follow me!" Marbuk said, leading them from the room and out into the corridor.

  .

  INSIDE THE FORTRESS COMPOUND

  THE SEALs stayed in the shadows of the wall, moving swiftly and silently with Mike Assad in the lead. When they reached a spot opposite the officers' quarters, he called a halt through the LASH.

  Brannigan moved up to join him with Miskoski, the SAW gunner from the Second Assault Section. The skipper was ready to go. "Now's the time. Body snatchers move up."

  Alpha Fire Team had been detailed to go into the building with Brannigan and the Odd Couple to make the kidnappings, and Chief Matt Gunnarson led Garth Redhawk and Chad Murchison up to join the skipper. "Ready, sir," the chief petty officer reported.

  "Then let's do it," Brannigan said. "Assad and Leibowitz! Take us in."

  The SEALs left the shadows to cross the short distance between the wall and the officers' quarters. They had gone no more than fifteen meters when bursts of automatic fire blasted at them from their direct front. The body-snatching detail dropped to the ground as bullets split the air and ploughed up the sandy soil around them.

  Muzzle flashes made it easy to see that the incoming was directed at them from the right side of the building. The ambushers had concealed themselves in the palm plants near the entrance. With security no longer a matter of concern, the remainder of Brannigan's Brigands replied in kind to the attackers. A SAW and seven CAR-15s sent regulated automatic bursts of 5.56-millimeter rounds into the immediate area of the vegetation. The body-snatching detail, with their buddies' bullets flying inches above them, hugged the terra firma.

  As soon as the unfriendly fire ceased, Brannigan leaped to his feet and led the body snatchers forward. When they arrived at the scene of the ambush, they could se
e three corpses sprawled alongside the building. Mike Assad took a quick look at them. "That guy there is Kumandan," he said, pointing to one of the corpses. "He was the field commander of al-Mimkhalif. He was supposed to be one of the guys we bring out with us."

  "Who're those other two with him?" Brannigan asked.

  'They're the sheikh's bodyguards," Mike explained. 'There's three of 'em, so the other must still be inside."

  "Jesus!" Brannigan said, already hearing shouts from around the fortress area. "We got to get this thing rolling fast. Murphy's Law is now in full operation." He looked back at Frank Gomez. "Raise the Battlecraft. Tell 'em we're compromised and step on it!" His attention was next flashed over to Jim Cruiser. "This place is going to be crawling with rag-heads in about a minute. Form a perimeter around here and hold it until we get back with those persons of interest.

  If we haven't returned within fifteen minutes, get the detachment the hell out of here to the dock area." Now he switched his gaze to Mike Assad. "Well? What the fuck are you waiting for?"

  Mike rushed toward the entrance with the others behind him. He led the way down the corridor, up a flight of stairs, then down to another entrance. Just as they drew up to the door, Baa the bodyguard stepped out. He took one look at Mike Assad, his eyes opened wide in astonishment and dread as the memory of the assault on the yacht leapt suddenly and unbidden into his mind.

  "Ya la! Ma tani marra!" the thug moaned. "Oh, no! Not again!"

  Mike delivered the heel of his hand into Baa's jaws just as he had done the last time. The ferocity and force of the punch undid all the setting and wiring done by both the doctor and oral surgeon in Salalah. The jaw broke afresh, patched teeth cracked, and Baa flipped over on his back, hitting the floor so hard he was knocked unconscious.

  After doing in Baa, Mike continued down the hall toward the sheikh's suite with the rest of the SEALs behind him. Hafez Sabah suddenly appeared from his own room, carrying a Russian Tokarev automatic pistol. The Arab acted quickly, raising the weapon and pulling the trigger. His aim was high and the bullet flew over the Americans' heads into the ceiling. Mike, at the front, had no time to renew their friendship, and he went for the trigger on his own weapon. He forgot the CAR-15 was set for a three-round burst of automatic fire, and the trio of bullets formed a pattern only three inches apart as they simultaneously slammed into Sabah's torso. The terrorist, almost cut in half, flew backward as if a mule had kicked him, twisting in the air before crashing face-first to the hallway floor.

  By then both Dave Leibowitz and Garth Redhawk had caught up with Mike, and the three burst into the sheikh's suite. They came to such an abrupt halt that Wild Bill Brannigan and Chief Matt Gunnarson bumped into them so hard, they were knocked forward a couple of steps. Now Chad Murchison, who was bringing up the rear, joined the others.

  The place seemed empty.

  Mike put his finger on his lips to signal the others to quiet down. He eased up to the door he knew led into the bedroom. "Sheikh Omar! It is me. Mikael Assad. Are you all right?"

  A couple of moments passed; then the voice of an obviously shaken man came from the interior of the other room. "What is going on, Mikael?"

  "American SEALs have attacked Fortress Mikhbayi, Sheikh Omar," Mike said. "I think you better surrender or you'll be martyred."

  "Wait a moment, Mikael," the sheikh said. "I shall be right out."

  When the sheikh stepped out into the room, he came to a halt with his eyes opened wide. He stared at Mike Assad, who stood wearing a camouflaged uniform that was exactly the same as those of the other men in the room. It took him a moment before he recognized the shorn appearance of the SEAL. Then the truth dawned on him. A smile slowly formed on his face.

  "You had us all fooled, Mikael. Are you CIA or perhaps an employee of a PMC?"

  Mike shook his head. "I'm a SEAL in the United States Navy."

  Suddenly Dave Leibowitz and Garth Redhawk dove on the sheikh, forcing him to the ground. The fallen Arab did not struggle as they slipped the plastic restraints around his wrists. He was jerked back to his feet.

  Mike turned to the skipper. "Sir, the guy I shot out in the hall was another one we wanted to bring out. Now we got only one, but he's the big fish."

  "Good enough for me," Brannigan said. "Let's get back to the detachment."

  The gunfire outside began increasing with such intensity that the concussion made the window panes rattle. The sheikh smiled. "I am curious as to how you are going to fight your way out of here."

  Brannigan laughed loudly. "Hell! So am I!"

  .

  ACV BATTLECRAFT

  SENIOR Chief Buford Dawkins pressed the transmit button on the ACV's radio. "Raider Party, this is Battlecraft. Over." As soon as Frank Gomez responded, Dawkins asked, "What's your situation? Over."

  "We're still waiting for the body snatchers to emerge from the building," Frank reported. "We're holding a perimeter right now, but the pressure is building every fucking minute. Over."

  "Understood," Dawkins said. He glanced down at Lieutenant (JG) Veronica Rivers, who was monitoring the radio through earphones. The look she gave the senior chief silently conveyed what she did not have to say aloud. The woman was an expert in electronic weapons and navigation, but she was woefully uneducated in handling ground-combat situations. Any decisions on the fighting were the senior chief's call. Dawkins nodded his understanding to her, then pressed the button again. "Raiding Party, we're going to close in on the dock area. I got the diagram Assad made of the facility. It looks like the wharf where that yacht is tied up is the best place to meet you. The ship offers some cover from a large portion of the wall. Y'all will make the decision when to withdraw. We'll be standing by to pick you up. Along with Delta Fire Team, we also got a chain gun to give you covering fire. Over."

  "Roger," Frank said. "The First Section Commander wants to know if we can get air cover. Over."

  "Negative," Dawkins said. "I've already tried. There's been a change made in the arrangement. Evidently, politics and diplomacy have stuck their ugly mugs into the operation. You'll be on your own until we have visual contact with you. Out."

  Veronica concentrated on preparing the chain gun. The First Section Commander was the man she wanted to marry, and if he asked for air cover it meant the situation was deteriorating rapidly. She quickly squeezed off some test rounds and the chain gun spit out a sharp series of the heavy 30-milimeter rounds.

  As Dawkins watched her, he suddenly remembered something his grandpa once told him as a boy back on the farm in Alabama. 'They's two times you don't want to mess with a pissed-off woman, Buford. One is when she's defending her young'uns, and the other when the man she loves is in danger. She goes from human to female tiger in an instant."

  The senior chief eyed the lieutenant, thinking, "Here we got a tigress."

  .

  THE FORTRESS

  BRANNIGAN led the way downstairs to the first floor of the facility. When they reached the landing, the group almost stumbled over a pile of dead Arabs. Jim Cruiser was standing by, his relief at seeing them evident on his face. "We were starting to get worried about you guys."

  Brannigan surveyed the corpses. At least a dozen dead men were sprawled the distance of the hallway. "Who the hell are they?"

  "Evidendy they live--lived--here," Jim explained. 'They came from someplace farther back in the facility, armed to the teeth and looking for a fight. We gave it to 'em."

  Mike Assad glanced over the bodies, recognizing them. "These guys are officers who have quarters in the building. They were unit leaders in al-Mimkhalif."

  "Whatever," Brannigan said dismissing what was obviously no longer a problem. "What's the situation, Jim?"

  "We're under heavy attack, sir, and pinned down pretty bad" the lieutenant reported. "I estimate a hundred or so have us under their gun sights."

  "My kingdom for a mortar" Brannigan said to himself under his breath. He raised his voice, "We're going to have to fight through the bastards and
reach the docks."

  "Yes, sir," Jim said. "Gomez has been in contact with the Battlecraft and she's standing off the coast waiting for the word to move in and pick us up. The senior chief wants to meet us by that fancy yacht." He quickly added, "Forget about requesting air cover. It's not going to happen. The senior chief said something about politics and diplomacy."

  Brannigan understood. "Right now we're invading the sovereign territory of both Yemen and Oman. I figure our CIA friends Paulsen and Koenig have gotten the word to make our presence here as minor a disturbance as possible."

  Jim patted two grenades he had attached to his vest. "We found these with those three guys that sprung the ambush on us."

  "Hang on to 'em," Brannigan said. 'They may come in handy." He turned to the Odd Couple. "Leibowitz! Report back to your fire team. Assad! Stick by me. You're going to have to point out the best route to that fucking yacht."

  Dave Leibowitz rushed off to join Connie Concord and Arnie Bernardi of Bravo Fire Team. When he reached his mates, he found them behind cover of some vehicles just outside the door. They were busy returning fire at a point on the rag-head perimeter that continued to sweep the area with hasty, unaimed fire that was dangerous just the same.

  Brannigan and Mike eased out of the building, rushing over to a point between the Alphas and Bravos. Mike pointed toward a gate fifty meters to the east. "That leads to the docks, sir. Once you're through there, you're out at the wharves and it's a short dash to where the royal yacht is tied up."