Direct Action - 03 (36 page)

Liquid Sky escaped out the back way and scrambled over a low wall. Rioters were already pouring down the street they had entered from, heading for the Wafa party headquarters. The alley was so narrow that they had to turn sideways to scoot through it, stepping over empty plastic bottles and crumpled newspapers.

Bill peered around the corner to see what was going on in the street.

“It's clear.”

They punched across the street and into another alley, circling around to find their vehicles. Behind them, another mob surged down the street they had just crossed. Liquid Sky was getting boxed in. When they got to the end of the alley, Bill could see the SUVs parked where the street got too narrow to drive.

The rioters had squeezed between the vehicles to get to the Wafa headquarters building, or simply climbed right over the top of the trucks. One was banging on a window with a rock to try to break inside. A couple others loitered around with crowbars or axe handles. Stepping into the street, Bill serviced each of the three targets with a burst from his Kalashnikov.

Bill again took the wheel of the first vehicle. Deckard climbed into the back seat. Once the Liquid Sky team was loaded up, they put it in reverse and started backing up. Having heard the gunfire, the rioters down the street turned to see what was happening. When the black SUVs began to make their escape, they knew these had to be the government agents they were looking for.

Bill gunned it. Ramon drove the other SUV, and they accelerated down the narrow street, Bill's rear bumper only four feet from Ramon's front bumper. The trucks moved in unison as the rioters charged forward. Several rocks pounded the windshield as Bill drove looking over his shoulder. The glass spider-webbed on impact. Deckard recoiled further inside the vehicle as Bill side swiped a garbage can and a nearby wall which shaved off the side-view mirror.

As he drove, Bill kept one hand on the wheel at the twelve o' clock position. This way, as he swerved through the twisting streets in reverse, he always knew that bringing his hand back to that same position would straighten out the wheels.

Another rock flew, this one landing short. They had cleared off the X.

Pulling out on the highway, Ramon and Bill turned their vehicles around and started back for the causeway to the main island.

Green tracer fire flashed across the street in front of them.

“Fuck!”

Bill cursed as he jerked the wheel. A Pakistani convoy down the road hammered away at both vehicles. Automatic gunfire from a PKM machine gun skipped off the pavement. The upholstery and plastic siding in the SUV popped and hissed around Deckard as the truck was turned into a sieve. A piece of plastic housing around the arm rest blasted off and spun through the truck.

“That's one way to enforce curfew,” Paul said from the passenger seat.

Bill snapped them around in a u-turn and cut off their headlights to drive blacked out. The second SUV did the same.

“I'm not driving back through that bullshit,” Bill said as he got back on the phone with Nerve.

“Arrange transportation for us at Bahrain International,” Bill said over the phone. Unlike Isa Air Base which was at the southern tip of the island, Bahrain International was only a kilometer away. It was the right call. The riots were getting more intense and it seemed less likely they would be able to navigate the roads. Now they were having close calls with the Pakistani soldiers that the government had deployed to control the riot as well. The more Paks that the rioters killed, the more trigger happy the soldiers would become, firing on anything that moved.

As the SUVs screamed north, Bill spotted a pile of burning tires in the middle of the street so he cut the wheel and shot into the opposing lane. Rioters threw more rocks and a few fired gunshots as they whizzed by. Bill jerked the wheel in time to body check one rioter who went flying through the air like a rag doll.

A few minutes later, they arrived at the airport. Bill called it in to Nerve, and the soldiers guarding the entrance let them drive through. Cruising onto the tarmac, their coordinator at Nerve directed them to link up with a Gulf Air pilot and crew.

Bill killed the call as he found the aircraft, a massive Airbus 330. The ground crew scrambled around to get it refueled and prepped for takeoff.

Deckard knew that, by now, the Royal family must be shitting bricks. The riots were out of control and Liquid Sky's mission had turned into a shit show. They would want the American hit squad out of their country as soon as possible.

Stepping out of the pockmarked SUVs, the team was better able to inspect the damage. It was a miracle that none of them had been killed when the Pakistanis opened up on them on the highway.

The ground crew wheeled the stairs up to the side of the aircraft and motioned to the team to get on board. Rick managed to find a tarp next to the terminal and with Paul's help, used it to wrap Zach's body in. They were not concerned with getting him back home for a proper burial, his body would have to be ditched at sea somewhere along the line. He could not be left behind in order to protect their operational security.

Manhandling Zach's remains on board the aircraft, the team took seats apart from each other and sat down. The interior of the aircraft was brightly lit and felt strange to the commandos who sat wearing their body armor, covered in sweat and blood. The airplane would normally seat hundreds of passengers but they had it all to themselves. The plane was empty and they were alone.

It was a long trip back.

27

“I always made it clear that once I broke one of you, I would have to go out and buy a new one. Now I have to blast out a help wanted. Shooter with nothing to lose. Now hiring.”

Bill paused for a moment to down a gulp of beer.

“On the plus side, we get to split up his share of the contract.”

Liquid Sky sat around Bill's living room, listening to him chide them. Rick turned and looked out of the corner of his eye. Ramon sat with his arms crossed. Deckard held a half-empty bottle of beer resting on his lap. He looked drunk, but it had nothing to do with the beer. He had just gotten released from the hospital in St. Louis. The doctors said he had a slight concussion. He'd be fine once the swelling of his brain went down in a day or two.

Bill's widescreen TV was on but muted. Deckard was familiar with the story that BBC was reporting on though. Some eccentric billionaire was building an artificial island off the coast of India in international waters. It was called sea steading, and the platforms were being joined together to form the floating island, but it would be a few more years until the project was complete. With the amount of enemies he had made around the world, maybe he would have to retire there.

“That mission was a total goat fuck,” Rick said.

“Yeah, I picked up on that,” Bill replied. “I'm going to get to the bottom of how we were compromised. After Henderson ate it in Pakistan, we knew we were being shadowed. Maybe this was them showing their hand a second time. First Henderson, then-”

“Then they got Zach,” Rick finished.

Deckard took a swig from his beer.

“By putting us in a situation that would get us killed,” Paul said, thankfully relieving some of the pressure Deckard felt.

“It could be a leak inside Nerve. We thought it was Perry's people but seeing how intel got leaked to Wafa before we got there and then they called down the monkeys on us, even after we cut Perry out of the loop, you have to see that two plus two equals four,” Bill said.

“You're making it sound like it is separate players,” Ramon said. “Rather than being the same player behind both Pakistan and Bahrain.”

“If you think you can dig something up, let me know,” Bill said. “Until then, I'll put my feelers out and see what turns up. I should be able to get some people working counter-intelligence on this issue full time considering the substantial investment that the client has sunk into this outfit.”

“I'll make some phone calls,” Ramon said. “Discreet phone calls.”

“Have at it. In the meantime, I am laying on a training block for us. A couple weeks R&R wherever each of you wants. Then, we do a one-month training workup Stateside.”

“What kind of training?” Nadi asked.

“Back to the basics,” Bill said. “We need to continue to hone our skills. I bought us a driving and off-road package at Tier One Group in Memphis, followed by a CQB package at the same facility. Then, just because I like to torture all of you, I signed us up for the Lone Operator course at DARC,” Bill said pronouncing the acronym as
dar-cee
.

“Oh shit,” Ramon said as he tried to stifle a laugh.

“What is that?” Paul asked.

“Full-contact hand to hand combat,” Bill said nonchalantly. “They teach you how to make improvised weapons, stun guns, shanks, shit like that.”

“Sounds like a gas,” Deckard said with his eyes only half open.

With that the meeting was over. Zach was at the bottom of the Indian Ocean, and they had beers to drink. Bahrain was just another bad dream.

Deckard rolled over in bed as the smartphone on his nightstand began to vibrate.

“Shit.”

Nadi let out a low purr next to him. They had finally been getting some sleep. She had kept him up most of the night. Something about the job and facing death on a regular basis tended to give shooters a crazy sex drive. Deckard couldn't complain.

Reaching for the phone, he picked up.

“Hello?”

“It's Bill. Come over here right now. I'm in my office.”

What was this about?

“Okay, I'll be there in a minute.”

The line went dead.

Nadi was sound asleep as Deckard pulled on some clothes and walked over to Bill's pad. He walked over to the office he had set up. The one Aghassi had been unable to penetrate. Knocking on the door, he stepped inside.

Bill spun around in his chair to face him with his head cocked to the side.

“We're going to Syria.”

“Jesus,” Deckard said. “That place is a fucking war zone.”

“Exactly.”

“We're a man short.”

“Not for long. I already picked someone up. The PMC he was working with wants to unload him. Tough for them to handle. HR had issues. Should fit right in with us. You and I are flying out to meet him tomorrow in a third country that we have business in. The client wants us to secure a package and get it shipped to Turkey.”

“I take it vacation is canceled?”

“We can sleep when we're dead.”

“That's what I'm afraid of.”

“Training is off as well. The world is on fire Deckard. Be ready to roll in the early afternoon.”

Deckard looked around Bill's home office. Sure enough, the walls had motion and thermal sensors on them. There were several computers in the office and the security looked to be custom.

“Sweet set up,” Deckard said. “Looks like the secret hideout for the Thundercats.”

“Had to bring in a professional to get it all set up. Expensive, but worth it. The client is very particular about commo arrangements. These laptops are just toys, it is that thing over there that makes the magic happen,” Bill pointed to a black hardcase at the end of his desk.

Scooting across the floor on his swivel chair, Bill opened up the case. The black case had a computer built inside of it. There was a screen, a keyboard, and some other switches. There were also input and output plugs.

“Which button launches the nukes?” Deckard said.

“This baby is a cold war relic,” Bill said with a hint of pride in his voice. “It was made as a redundant communications system in case of nuclear war. It bounces signals off the atmosphere rather than satellites, or so that is what I'm told.”

“Continuity of Government?”

“Right, so that the military and the government can still talk to each other after the Soviets push our shit in. Really no need for this system until the nukes fly, except when certain players want to talk behind the scenes without the NSA or others tapping the line and listening in. Those players call it the Pirate's Net.”

“They hijacked an official communications platform for their own purposes, turning it into a pirate net.”

“That's how you get shit done,” Bill said as he shut the case. “If you want to protect America, you set aside all this sheepdog bullshit. To hunt a wolf you send a wolf.”