Target Deck - 02 (58 page)

“
Ich bin lebendig
,” Kurt said in his native German.

“What?” Aghassi asked, relaxing now that they knew it was their missing team mate.

Under the moon light, Deckard could see Kurt's hands twitching slightly.

“You okay? You're shaking like a French soldier.”

“Fuck you. I came down on my reserve chute. I didn't have silk over my head until I was five hundred feet off the ground.”

“What happened?”

“The main canopy had a total malfunction so I had to cut it away at 3,000 feet. Then the reserve had cells on it that started to collapse on me. I had to tug the toggles and mess with the suspension lines the entire way down.”

“Next time we pack our own parachutes,” Deckard said.

“Agreed.”

Stashing their parachutes in one of the empty airplanes, the mercenaries moved out. The airfield in the distance was partially lit, guiding them in towards the objective area. If The Arab and his gang were on Area 14, they had to locate them and maneuver to contact as soon as possible. Not only was dawn hours away, but it was only a matter of time before the command and control node for the entire gun running and death squad operation figured out what was going on after Militar No. 3 was destroyed and the Ft. Bliss G3 Communications facility had gone dark.

Sticking to the shadows created by a massive passenger aircraft, the mercenaries weaved their way towards the airfield, keeping landing gear or loose aircraft debris between them and their target to help conceal their movement. Nearing the edge of the airfield, they crawled forward to get eyes on.

There were two large aircraft hangars next to the runway, no control tower, and a series of trailers that looked to be used as housing units. What really caught all of their eyes was the compound next door to the far hangar. Surrounded by a high barbwire fence was a box shaped building with an antenna farm on the roof. A tall communications mast rose from the roof alongside various High Frequency antennas, and satellite dishes.

Nikita passed Deckard his HK 417 sniper rifle so he could take a closer look. Using the ten power scope, he scanned the security features for a moment before passing the rifle on to Aghassi.

“What do you think? Those look like active alarm systems inside the perimeter.”

“Yeah, it's an overlapping system of bi-static microwave sensors,” Aghassi replied. “The transmitters are those dishes you see in the gravel. They send out the microwave frequency to the receivers. If they detect a minute difference between the sender and the receiver it will trip the alarm.”

“And bring down God only knows what.”

“That has to be our priority target,” Kurt added. “That's the nerve center for this logistics system we have been back tracing.”

“Tracking down The Arab will have to wait,” Deckard agreed. As bad as he wanted him, killing a General was always going to be more important than killing a foot soldier. This was a war and targets had to be prioritized.

“If we manage to bypass the sensors, what kind of security is on the door?”

Aghassi moved the sniper rifle to take a closer look.

“Bio-metric lock. Looks to be both thumb print and face scan.”

“Can we get passed it?”

“With time and proper planning.”

“Neither of which we have,” Pat muttered.

“We will have to improvise something,” Aghassi said as he handed the rifle back to Nikita. “It might work.”

“I see a two man roving patrol moving around the far hangar right now,” Deckard said, squinting as he looked across the runway.

“And a third having a smoke break over by the housing units,” Nikita said as he looked through the scope.

“What does he look like?”

“All three of the guards look like Arabs as near as I can tell.”

“Alright, here is the new plan,” Deckard said. “We are going to have to improvise some kit if we are going to get into that command and control center undetected. Kurt, go back to the parachutes and cut lengths from the suspension line that we can use as tethers. I'm going to find the rope. Pat, you find something we can use as a grappling hook and a way to muffle the sound when we throw it. Aghassi, you get together whatever you need to get through the biometrics system. Nikita, find a firing position somewhere in one of these airplanes where you can give us cover fire if need be.”

“Roger that,” Pat said, picking up on what Deckard was planning.

“And try not to get killed.”

Nikita slipped into the fuselage of an old Boeing MD-80, finding a port for his sniper rifle through a rectangular window that was missing the clear plexiglass. Settling in, he scanned Area 14 for targets and waited.

Kurt Jager jogged back to where they had dropped off the parachutes. His Samruk issued Ka-Bar fighting knife made quick work of the 550 chord suspension lines that secured the parachute to the harness. He cut enough safety lines for each of the mercenaries before moving back to the rendezvous point.

Deckard and Pat evaded the two man guard patrol with Nikita informing them about enemy movements over their radio. The padlock on the door to the hangar was easy to pick and they were soon inside the dark interior. Using red lens pen lights, they each rummaged through the boxes of discarded airline equipment and garbage.

Pat had the shock of his life when he ran into a drab colored military van with Cyrillic lettering across the side. Area 14 was apparently being used as a staging ground for covert operations all over the world.

Eventually the former Delta operator found a large metal hook that would normally be used to attach to a tow strap. Locating some rubber matting, probably torn up from the floor of an airplane, he sliced it into pieces and wrapped it around the hook before securing it in place with some string.

Meanwhile, Deckard found a couple of ropes in the corner of the hangar. Some were dry rotted, but when he tied the others together with square knots he ended up with a long enough length for what he had in mind. Looping the rope back on itself, he flung it over his shoulder. Linking back up with Pat, he headed out to meet the others.

Outside, Aghassi crept closer to the command and control center. He had to admit to himself that he was stumped. The fingerprint reader could be bypassed, but without knowing who had access to the building he was at a loss to figure out how to get by the face scanner.

As luck would have it, he was crouching in a ditch nearby the facility at exactly four in the morning which turned out to be a shift change. A white Ford Escort pulled up to the gate. A slight man emerged from the vehicle and was buzzed in on foot. He scanned through the biometric locks and went inside. Knowing what was happening, Aghassi scrambled through his Kifaru Koala pouch for his digital camera.

When the relieved night guard opened the door and headed to the Escort, Aghassi was ready. Zooming in on the man's face as closely as he could he began snapping pictures. He was a young guy, probably in his thirties with slightly graying hair and a doughy face. A Rear Echelon Mother Fucker if ever there was one, Aghassi knew.

The Escort took off down the runway and disappeared into the night, heading back home or back to a security hub elsewhere on Area 14 or one of the many other areas established on the former nuclear test site. The former ISA operator scrolled through the pictures on his digital camera and breathed a sigh of relief.

He nailed it.

“You are clear,” Nikita's voice came over the radio. “The guards are moving over to the housing area.”

From his firing and observation position, Nikita instructed the four mercenaries on where the enemy was going and where they were coming from.

“Roger,” Deckard replied.

The mercenaries climbed out of the ditch and skirted around the runway, heading for the far hangar. There was a metal ladder attached to one side that would allow them to climb up to the roof. One by one, they slung their weapons and began the climb. Hand over hand, their boots vibrated off the metal rungs as they tried to be as silent as possible. Deckard brought up the rear and was halfway up when he heard Nikita's warning over his radio.

“The roving patrol is on its way back. They are on my side of the runway now but will see you if you don't get to the top in another minute.”

Deckard and Kurt were the two still on the ladder and both now stopped trying to be quiet and rushed up the side of the hangar. Their legs and arms were burning by the time they got the top. He was glad that he had Kurt cut safety lines because after all he had been through, he felt like he was losing dexterity.

The four mercenaries stayed low to avoid being spotted by the patrol and crept across the top of the hangar to the side that faced the Command and Control facility. From the edge of the hangar, the communications mast on the target building was a good thirty feet away. It was a long distance, but it was still a security design flaw in putting the mast so close to the hangar. It was a flaw that the mercenaries would be more than happy to exploit.

There was one exterior flood light that needed to be taken care of before they began to infiltrate.

While Pat was tying their half-assed grappling hook into their half-assed climbing rope, Deckard got on the radio with Nikita.

“Has the patrol passed you yet?”

“Yes, they have moved on into the aircraft graveyard.”

“Can you do something about the flood light in front of the building?”

“Roger,” Nikita replied. “Wait one.”

A few seconds later the flood light popped and blinked out as a silent sub-sonic bullet shattered the bulb inside.

“That works, thanks.”

“No problem.”

Deckard turned to Pat.

“Who is going to give it a go with this contraption?”

“I played baseball in college,” Pat informed him. “That's why I got a good grenade arm.”

“You went to college?”

“For six months.”