No Woman Left Behind (19 page)

Bischoff sighed. “Fine. I’ll run it past Washington, but there’s no guarantee they’ll green light it. But, for the time being, let’s move on.”

Hands relaxed his shoulders, visibly relieved, as Bischoff continued. “Here are the ground rules. The reason Washington is authorizing a small insertion team is because that’s the way Kenyan officials want it, and we need their cooperation to pull this off. Also, it helps Washington save face if this turns out to be a disaster. Loss of life will be minimal.”

It didn’t seem minimal when it was
my
life they were talking about, but I understood the reasoning. Tactically it would be hard to move a large force across the border unnoticed, which is what we wanted to do.

Bischoff looked over at Hands. “Team leader, you have any thoughts on how we proceed under these restrictions?”

“Yes, sir. Jason, let’s start with Google Earth so that I can get a feel for the surrounding area.”

Jason found it and broadcast it onto the big screen. It was a bit fuzzy, but I could make out what looked like a single white shack with a road leading up to it. No vehicles or signs of life.

Hands studied the image for a few minutes and we remained silent while he thought. “Back it out a bit,” he instructed. When the picture was where he wanted it, he walked over to the table and picked up the pointer from where Bischoff had left it.

“The shack is situated in a spot easily visible from multiple vantage points. It’s located in a bit of a depression with small hills on either side. Either hill could be a good place for opposing forces to muster. Both have a lot of waist-high thorny scrub brush, and rocks for concealment. If we venture into that stuff, we need to be careful. The thorns are long and nasty and will make quick movements difficult. We also have to remember that this is the dry season, so if we decide to use fire, we have to do it very carefully, because those bushes will burn quickly and produce a lot of smoke. The door to the shack opens here to the southwest. From this perspective, I don’t see any windows or other egress, but there might be some on the backside that we just can’t see. But I doubt it, as he wouldn’t want us to be able to reconnoiter the building through a window.”

He tapped the screen with his pointer. “A sniper would have to stay on the door. If I were Pentz, I’d take this jar-shaped hill to the southwest for my preferred position. Either end of the hill could provide cover for anyone, terrorist or otherwise, wanting to monitor the comings and goings from the shack.

“Focus here and enlarge.” Hands pointed to the opposite side of the screen and paused until it popped up. “This side has an even bigger hill and we’ve got trees here. More cover, but it’s farther from the shack and no direct view to the door.”

“But aren’t trees better for snipers?” Gray asked. “The height advantage and all.”

“Yeah, but whether it’s Pentz or anyone else, it’s all about entrance and egress. Climbing a tree limits your mobility and therefore your options. The risks outweigh the benefits unless that is your only vantage point. One way or the other, we have to assume that snipers will be covering that door. It’s a guarantee. No one comes or goes without their permission.”

I considered. “That also means as soon as I’m in the shack, Pentz, or whatever thugs Broodryk has hired, are free to start shooting at you, right?”

He didn’t sugarcoat the truth. “Yes.”

“There’s another message here, right? Broodryk doesn’t intend to let me or Elvis walk away even if I play the game to the end and win. He wants to be sure that even if we somehow win...we lose.”

No one said anything.

I glanced at Gray and she nodded.

“I’m sorry, Lexi. Despite all his talk, I’m afraid it’s game end only when either you or Broodryk is dead. We’ve never been closer to putting him out of business than right now. It’s still a long shot, but we still have a chance if we can get the final information we need. We can stop the virus, if we can pinpoint Broodryk. That means you have to keep playing his game all the way to the end, even knowing the likely outcome.”

Bischoff’s face was serious, strained. “Hands and his guys will do their best, but I’ll be honest. The odds aren’t great for you or Elvis...actually any of you. Nevertheless, we can’t do this without you. We can’t force you to risk your life. We have some other options, but they are all a lot worse.

I tried to imagine worse options than what was staring me in the face.

Bischoff continued, looking me squarely in the eyes, “If we don’t get him now, he will do a lot of damage and a lot of people will get hurt. In addition, he’ll never stop hunting you and the people you love. Regardless, we won’t stop until we bring him down with or without you.”

A heavy silence fell over the room. Everyone watched me intently.

To my surprise, Gray reached out and lightly touched the top of my hand with her fingers. “I’m glad I don’t have to make this decision. It’s a brutal one. The bottom line is that everyone in this room, and the people at the highest levels in Washington, are offering you a chance to be the key part of making Broodryk old news. But we want you to fully understand what you are committing to. The final mission all comes down to this, a less than fifty-fifty chance you’ll make it. So the question is—despite those odds are you still in?”

Chapter Thirty-Six

I’d known from the beginning that Broodryk would never let me or Elvis go even if I played and won his little game. He was a liar, cheat and a first-class sociopath. This was an ugly business, whichever way you looked at it. But I was not a scared little girl. I knew the risks when I’d signed up, and I’d see it through.

“I’ve already signed all the paperwork, but if it’s required for me to state it for the record, then let it be known that I’m agreeing to this operation of my own free will.”

Gray looked at Bischoff. He pressed his lips together and nodded. “Understood.”

Now it was settled, I felt calmer. “Let’s move on. Do you think Broodryk will have the shack wired to blow whenever he wants?”

Hands considered. “Probably. But he won’t blow it right away. Not until he has time to play.”

“I agree,” Gray said. “Broodryk needs to have the perfect performance first. A big show for the world. This means he’s got to either be taping or recording what happens. As a result, it’s extremely likely he’ll have electronic equipment of some kind in the room set up to provide a Skype-like connection between Lexi and him. He has to be able to test and taunt her, and then record the game for a much wider audience later.”

Hands noted, “On the imagery, it looks like a line of telephone poles running along the road. I can see a set of wires going to the shack. What do you think? Power, phone and network?”

My brain raced through the possibilities. “He’ll need a good and highly reliable connection for his interaction with us. Too much of his satisfaction rides on being able to see and manipulate what will go on once we arrive. He’ll avoid using a landline, as the local infrastructure and network would be way too unreliable. So we are looking at a satellite feed. I am sure he expects us to try and monitor it, but it will be encrypted on transmission and he won’t give us enough time to crack it.”

“Yes,” Gray added. “I agree that approach is almost a certainty.”

“One advantage is that the satellite feed will limit his bandwidth, and the encryption will hurt his performance even more. That won’t allow him to monitor everything simultaneously. We should be able to take advantage of that.”

“Good. What systems would you expect him to deploy to monitor the actions?”

I considered the ways he might do it. How
I
would do it.

“Well, there isn’t going to be much available to him in the middle of a hellhole like Somalia, so he’ll know we’ll finger him on whatever he intends to use. I’m guessing some autonomous systems, like door alarms that are low bandwidth, with at least one video/audio connection so he can watch our expected futile attempts and goad us on. That’s a given. I also expect at least one camera, potentially several so he can monitor Elvis, the inside of the shack, and probably the outside approach to the door.”

“Will he need a satellite phone or antenna?”

“Absolutely. I had forgotten about that. We could stop him from seeing us by taking that out, but we can’t shut him down, especially if he has stuff on timers, so we have to play the game first. It does mean, however, we’re going to need first-rate communications of our own in place. They’d better be impenetrable or Broodryk will be all over them.”

Jason nodded. “Nothing but the best for you. We’ll have both local comms for you all to talk on the ground, and a full service, encrypted satellite link to ‘Mother’ for real-time observation of approaching hostiles and any special deliveries. All should be in place in a few hours. We’ll make it airtight.”

“Good. That’s a must.”

Hands studied the map. “Let’s talk the plan of engagement. From what I can see, we’ve got a single story shack in the middle of No Man’s Land. One door and no apparent windows. One road in and out. The bad guys know where we are coming from, can engage us both coming and going, and unfortunately know exactly when we are expected to arrive. So we don’t have the element of surprise. There are firing positions for opposing forces on either side of the shack with which we’ll have to contend, and no natural high ground from which we can defend the building while Lexi’s inside. Still, we’ve got something in our favor.”

I didn’t see anything, but I didn’t want to be the black cloud of gloom, so I kept my mouth shut.

“First, we know that
they
know we are coming, so we can plan for that. As a result, we’ll have airpower.”

“We will?”

“Yes.” Hands looked at Bischoff. “That’s helpful. But how do we get to the site? Do we have a ship in the area?”

Bischoff nodded. “We do. It’s making its way closer to provide even more air support if things really go south.”

“That’s very good news.”

“The plan is to helicopter you out to the ship, refuel and proceed to the rendezvous point with our Kenyan friends at the border who are delivering your transportation. From there it’s about an hour’s drive to the site.”

I perked up. “Drive?”

Not that the thought of driving through extremely hostile territory in the middle of Somalia didn’t terrify me, but oddly it seemed a better alternative than jumping from twelve thousand feet again.

“Broodryk has scheduled it so we have to go in during the day,” Hands continued. “Jumping makes us sitting targets for anyone waiting for us. Helicopters are likely to attract too much attention and bring too many people to the party early. So, driving it is.”

“Tanks?” I said hopefully.

Hands rolled his eyes. “Land Rovers.”

Land Rovers seemed pathetically small against whatever evil forces we might be facing, but I guess the operation’s transportation budget could only afford the economy model.

I unscrewed the top of my water bottle and took a slug. “Then what?”

“Then we go in small and tight. Two teams—Alpha and Bravo. We drive off-road to minimize the chance of meeting hostiles and IEDs.”

“IEDs?” I asked.

“Improvised explosive devices,” Wills explained. “A nice little one will create a crater six feet across and toss what is left of the shell of the vehicle more than a hundred feet. We generally try and avoid them.”

“Right. Jeez.”

“Anyway, when we get to the shack, we’ll use the Land Rovers as initial cover,” Hands added. “Alpha Team will position here.” He tapped at a location about forty yards from the front door.”

I cocked my head to get a better view.

“We angle the jeep so it provides initial cover to the door against whomever may be positioned on Jar Hill. Although it won’t stop a decent sniper, it’s the best we have. Bravo Team drives over here to the other side of the building and across the road and sets up a holding perimeter against the mango-shaped hill. We will have to rely on the Predator drone overhead to warn us if any unexpected guests are coming to crash our party. Air extraction from the carrier is available if escape routes are sealed off or if there is no enemy presence at mission completion.”

I liked the idea of leaving, even if we had to do it on a helicopter.

“So, while Lexi has to deal with the electronic complexities of the situation, our mission is a basically a hold, snatch and run. We get Lexi in, she figures out how to finger Broodryk’s location and free the hostage while we hold off the bad guys and get them both out safely. We should all be sipping Mai Tais on the beach in Kenya by sunrise.”

At first I wondered who Hands was trying to fool with his bravado. But looking closer at him, I realized he really believed what he was saying. He had full confidence in our abilities to do this, and especially in
mine
.

Jason tapped a pen on the table. “Here’s my thought. Broodryk has to have brought locals in on this. He wouldn’t risk his own neck in Somalia by setting up the game room himself.”

“Yes.” Gray spread her hands on the table. “He’ll pull in a favor from someone in the area who owes him, most likely a representative of
al-Shabaab
.”

“Great,” Wills said. “This scenario just gets better and better.”

I held up a hand. “Okay. Let’s say Broodryk has got an
al-Shabaab
guy doing the set-up at the shack for him. That actually works in our favor.”

I couldn’t believe I’d actually come up with something positive about all this.

“Because...?” Gray asked.

“Because it means he didn’t do it himself. From a technical point of view, working remotely with amateurs leaves me a lot more hopeful about finding a weakness in his set-up. Broodryk will be limited to what he can manage and what they’re able to provide for him. That’s a plus for me.”

Hands turned his attention to me. “So, what do you see in this game room, Keys? What’s the set-up?”

I closed my eyes, imagined myself as Broodryk. What would I need? What would I want?

After a few seconds of reflection, I mused, “That’s real conjecture right now as we don’t know what end game looks like to him other than all of us dead and the virus released. That would be easily achieved by having the shack blow up upon entry and hordes of
al-Shabaab
coming over the hills to take care of the rest. But I don’t think that will happen, at least not immediately, because there is no satisfaction for him in that.”

“Agreed,” Gray said.

“So, I think that means he has to let us in, or at least me. I have to communicate with him and see Elvis alive. Hopefully he’s there. If so, he’ll almost certainly be restrained.”

“It would heighten the dramatic effect,” Gray added.

I continued to visualize the set up. “A shack that size can’t have more than one or two rooms or maybe even one big room, partitioned with sheets like at the elder’s house. To talk with me he will need a camera, or cameras, and a laptop or TV. He’d use the speakers on either one of those to talk to me and hear my response. I’m actually leaning toward thinking he’d use a television screen or monitor, probably hung from the wall and connected to a laptop. It’s big, grandiose. He’d have to have the laptop networked to at least two cameras, one for the room and one for outside so that he could watch all the fun. Without a doubt everything we say in that room will be heard, seen and recorded by Broodryk.”

Hands bent over, rested his palms on the table. “Will he be able to pick up our comms?”

“He may hear noise if things are quiet, but he shouldn’t be able to discern what’s going over the comms in our helmets. So, we’ll have a small edge there. It does mean there may have to be a lot of one-way conversation going on in terms of what’s happening in that room. I’ll have to choose every word I say very carefully.”

“What’s he going to want you to do?” Wills asked.

I shrugged. “Anything that he can think of to first humiliate me and then assert his dominance intellectually. After having proved I am not worthy, he’ll dispose of me. Pretty simple. Truthfully, I have no idea. I believe Elvis will have to be there since that’s been part of his plan from the start and he’ll want me to have a visible reminder of my failure to save my friend. He wants me shaken, upset and at his mercy. I’m certain that wherever, or however, Broodryk positions Elvis, he’ll be in some kind of precarious situation. Like Gray said, it will make for good drama and television.”

I heard a growl and looked down the table see Hulk frowning. “Psychopath,” he muttered.

I nodded. “That’s who we’re dealing with.”

“So, what do we need to get you ready, Keys?” Hands asked.

“I don’t know exactly what yet. Something is bugging me about the compound in Gabon, but I can’t put my finger on it. I need to talk to Slash. I have a thought, but I need his input.”

Bischoff nodded. “No problem. I’ll see it happens pronto.”