Covert Commando: A Sam Harper Military Thriller Page 15

  After all, we'd made it through Ranger Selection together and I'd been much faster back then.

  The path split ahead. One route tracked along the flowing water. The other trailed deeper into the forest, toward the beach.

  My side ached. Chest burned. "Follow the river!"

  Schnier went left. Pointed the three men after Watkins to divert right. "Recon only. Report any contact."

  He could've at least had the decency to gasp a little.

  I followed the river-bound pair.

  After another minute of jogging, just the two of us remained. Madsen and me.

  Schnier and Watkins outpaced us. Faded into the jungle ahead.

  "Need me to carry that?" Madsen pointed at my AK.

  "Shut up and run. Did you know ranger is another word for dung-hole in Tagalog?"

  He smiled.

  We caught up to Schnier where the trail dead-ended at a four-foot floating river pier.

  A PLAN Houbei class missile boat spat water out its twin rear engines. Curved around a bend in the river.

  Too big for us to engage, anyway.

  Schnier looked at me. Pointed as it vanished. "She was on there. They all were."

  I held my side. Gasped. "Air… support?"

  He tagged the boat on his tactical map. Requested drone coverage from the LCS.

  Called some Filipino dude on the radio. "Still on the beach with your men? Good. Call your boats back. Sending you an intercept course. Head for the mouth of this river. Got a Chinese missile boat coming out."

  Who the hell was he talking to? This was supposed to be a covert deployment. Under the radar. Non-attributable. No local contact. Nothing official, upon pain of international incident.

  Whoever was on the far end confirmed his readiness to interdict the unofficial Chinese invasion of his country.

  "American hostage aboard, so don't just blow them up. Intercept and detain."

  "They got away with your captured soldier?"

  "No, a civilian woman. Very important we protect her."

  "On our way."

  Once Schnier hung up with the locals, Michelle jumped on the circuit. "Cowboy, who's this high-value hostage you're been chasing?"

  Uh-oh. Not sure how Michelle was going to react to Schnier chasing his ex-girlfriend around with her resources. She'd made it clear enough after their arrival in the Philippines when he started asking around about Raven that her whereabouts weren't a CIA priority.

  Schnier paused before answering. "Sam discovered that the spotter in Manila is an American female. Probably brainwashed or something. Married to and abused by Omar. Anyway, she's why Sam escapes. Turns out her name is Raven."

  "Your ex? That Raven?"

  "Small world, huh? Now we know why she vanished. Married into a jihadi terrorist organization. Been trying to get away and then Sam showed up."

  This time, Michelle paused. "We'll talk about this more later. Gather up your little posse and head back to that central pool. Whole bunch of jihadis on their way to take your scalps."

  He looked at his tactical display. Showed it to me. "Roger that, ball-buster."

  The mass of red dots swarming toward our sprinkling of blue positions in the middle looked like a school of angry piranha at feeding time.

  I nodded to Schnier. "We'd better walk back. Save our strength for when they arrive. Got any spare mags for an AK?"

  Already knew he didn't.

  Chapter Twenty-Three: Escape Scrape

  Pahk hoped the boat driver bitch was as good as she thought she was.

  They'd crossed under the bridge over the river near the coast and then fled the river mouth for the open sea when she'd pointed for his attention to the surface radar screen.

  Two short lines moved fast; angled toward them from the east.

  "What's that?"

  The 40 knot headwind carried his words away, but she read his lips enough to reply. "Patrol craft. Judging by their speed, Shaldag Mark Fives. The latest thing in the Filipino coastal fleet from Israel."

  "Can we outrun them?"

  She turned the wheel to point west, now that they'd cleared the northern tip of Lubang. Aimed their twin-bows toward the Spratly Islands.

  "We'll stay ahead of them. But without rougher seas, which work to our advantage, we won't escape them. They'll track us to the fleet."

  Pahk looked back. Couldn't spot their opponent. If they were back there, they were too small for his eyes.

  "Thought this was supposed to be a stealth model. If we're just a radar blip to them, can we discourage them with a missile?"

  "It is, but that applies mostly to sound. The quiet jet propulsion instead of screws. Not modern radar. I'll pretend you didn't suggest that last. We're not authorized to start a war."

  "Admiral Hu won't be excited that you're leading them right to his fleet."

  "This is your mission, I'm just driving the boat. Perhaps you should contact him with an update? Get new orders before we run out of sea room or fuel."

  Raven sat against the back of the boat's cabin, exposed to the elements, but protected from the headwind. She gripped the ropes locking her in place against the boat's bounces and skips with white knuckles.

  Would Admiral Hu actually want her? If not, then at least she'd be easy to dispose of at sea.

  Perhaps he could keep her in his cabin for his personal use.

  A PLAN medic stabilized Omar inside the cabin. He was becoming more of a liability as well, despite his jihadi army and contacts.

  Still, they were the only bargaining chips Pahk possessed. He too, might be considered a liability.

  Had to consider the lives of his sister and mother back in Dalian. They lived at the PLAN port only under Hu's continued sufferance.

  Based on Pahk's continued usefulness to the CCP.

  He stared at the radar display. Tried to make sense of it. Tapped the screen. "What's this larger surface contact?"

  "The Americans. Not moving yet, but they're just as fast as either of us, despite their size. Wouldn't worry unless they launch more air assets or move to intercept."

  The three forces formed a triangle, with their fleeing ship farthest west.

  "I'd better call the Admiral."

  "Yes, you'd better."

  Just had to figure out how to spin these events to him first.

  * * *

  Larrikowal much preferred the way their new Shaldag Mark V fast patrol craft cut through the sea over the American's bouncing helicopters.

  It helped that the waves were mere ripples on the water.

  He wished they could go faster, though. Schnier sounded desperate when he'd called for help.

  Larrikowal sent his force cautiously inland to support the Americans and round up any jihadi stragglers under the control of his senior sergeant, but at Schnier's urging, taken command of the sea pursuit himself.

  By the time he'd recalled the pair of ships which had dropped them off and returned their landing boat to load it up on the back, the Chinese naval vessel turned the corner on the northern tip of the island.

  Now, all they could do was chase and track them.

  He radioed the spy lady aboard the American LCS. "We're not gaining on them."

  Frustration in Michelle's voice. "There's an American citizen being held captive on that boat. Captured on Filipino soil. Isn't there anything you can do?"

  "They won't escape, but we can't stop them without launching a missile. There's no way we can create that sort of international incident. Would give China too much of an excuse if we started something. Besides, the hostage wouldn't survive blowing them up. What about your drone?"

  "It carries a pair of missiles, but same problem. Not like we can target everyone except the hostage, and the optics of Americans sinking a PLAN warship aren't great."

  "Our remote control fifty cal mounted on the front is stabilized for accuracy. We could fire a warning shot, then shoot to disable their engines, but we'd need to be a lot closer for that. Any way to delay them? Cut
them off?"

  "Even if I could get the captain of this hunk of junk on the move, he won't start a war either, and we're even more out of position than you are."

  The boat under him skipped up from an especially large wave. Still better than a helicopter.

  "I don't know what to tell you. We can follow and track them via surface radar, but they're ten meters longer and carry more fuel than we do. Eventually, we'll refuel and lose them, unless they go straight back to their fleet."

  "Might as well track them from the air, then. It's not like the Chinese fleet cruising the Spratly Islands is a mystery. We already know they're out there. This missile boat will go running home."

  Larrikowal frowned. "I'm going to break off pursuit, then. Return to Lubang. Remember our deal about sharing information. Securing our systems."

  "I remember. I also know Schnier is in the middle of a firefight with an army of jihadists surrounding that mountain."

  "So does that mean you'll tell him the bad news?"

  "Yeah, I'll break it to him."

  Good. Larrikowal respected the American captain and didn't want to be the one to tell him of their failure.

  * * *

  Schnier ran back to the central pool and waterfall. Took one man with him. Always travel in pairs. Left Sam and the others to set an ambush on the river trail behind them.

  According to his tactical computer, courtesy of Michelle's drone and the MI platoon's support and analysis, that'd interdict one of the approaching enemy formations.

  Only left two more groups for the rest of his platoon to deal with. At least they'd already taken out the central defenses on the top of the mountain.

  The ability of his snipers to reach out and touch each group of attackers as they approached, before even in sight of his defenses, provided his rangers with a tremendous tactical advantage.

  Now they just needed to ambush and execute.

  And remember that the tactical plot wasn't foolproof. Not like their intelligence element couldn't miss someone here or there under the jungle canopy.

  Still, Sam's platoon was on the ball in providing tactical intelligence, despite his absence.

  Schnier chuckled. Or maybe because he'd left them behind. Have to save that one and tell it to him later.

  Assuming they all survived this.

  His radio earpiece filled with Michelle's voice. "Cowboy?"

  "Go ahead."

  "The PLAN boat is just as fast as our pursuit boats. We could destroy it before it got out of range, but that won't get your friend back. I'm sorry."

  Raven was lost to him? But he'd just found her! Even if their only contact was through a sniper scope.

  He'd known something was missing. That his life in the rangers, his relationships, were lacking something. Some higher purpose.

  At first, he thought it only related to their role as protectors. As companions in arms, rather than alpha bulls.

  He didn't realize before seeing her again, before losing her, that the hole dug into his heart was Raven-shaped.

  Schnier couldn't lose her again. Wouldn't lose her again. He refused.

  "What about air assets?"

  "They can't stop them, just destroy them. Nothing we can do short of starting a war with China."

  War with China? Not a bad idea, in his present mood. He took a deep breath. Triggered his mic again.

  "Track them from the air, at least. Once I get out of here, back to the LCS, I'll expect Sam and his platoon to figure out a way for us to retrieve her. For now, we have a battle to win."

  "Roger that. Go get 'em."

  "Rangers lead the way. Cowboy out."

  As much as he wanted to chase after Raven, his mind needed to be here. The Ranger Creed required that "Never shall I fail my comrades."

  He tallied his assets. He'd left three sniper teams up in the mountain fort, plus one ranger to provide local security and coordinate.

  Sam led four on the river trail.

  He'd arrange five more to block each of the approaching groups. With advanced knowledge of their approaches from the drone overhead, they could bushwhack them in coordination with the sniper teams.

  That left a ten ranger command and reaction element, including Schnier. They'd stay central. Respond to either join a firefight and sweep the enemy away, or else provide a tactical reserve if anything didn't go to plan.

  Once the bullets flew, something always refused to follow the plan.

  Chapter Twenty-Four: Escape Ambush

  I hoped the tangos had never heard of Major Rogers.

  One of his standing orders issued to his Rangers in 1759 was to never march home the same way. Instead, take a different route to avoid ambush.

  Time for an ambush.

  I found a section of the river trail where it followed a curve in the river bank. Water on one side, dense jungle brush on the other, the trail itself only wide enough for two men next to each other.

  Only five of us, so limited firepower.

  I'd traded my AK to the ranger who returned with Schnier for a trusty M4A1 carbine and a trio of 30-round magazines of 5.56mm cartridges.

  Not enough remaining ammo, otherwise.

  According to Michelle's drone data, we could expect a dozen tangos to come traipsing down the trail, with a lead element of one twenty yards ahead of the rest.

  No way we'd catch them all, but we just might stop them from reuniting with their buddies near the pool and waterfall.

  I had one M240 gunner, Madsen. He and his assistant carried two cases of belted ammo between them.

  Plenty for a single ambush with a medium machine gun. We'd make do.

  I had Madsen setup just past the turn in the trail. In the bush, but where he could target right down the trail itself.

  He'd form the lower limb of our L-shaped ambush.

  Sent his assistant off with his carbine to provide security twenty yards farther up the trail behind him.

  The enemy point-man would need to walk past our machine-gunner if we were to catch enough of the rest in our designated kill zone.

  His assistant could warn us against unknown forces from farther up the trail, but really I counted on him to take out the point man before he could flank our machine gunner once he opened up on the main body.

  Two more men with M4s and grenades. Light from packing into a helicopter for this mission, doubly light from haring off on our running adventure to catch Pahk and Raven. We'd left the rest of the heavy weapons dudes back with the central HQ group, along with the snipers.

  I sent Watkins twenty yards the other way down the trail. Led him before. Knew him. Trusted him.

  Smart.

  He'd pull security in the jungle where we expected our enemy to arrive from.

  Barely within sight of the trail, we just needed a radio click when they arrived to warn us, and then he could take out any stragglers.

  He'd also be the first overrun if they got smart and sent scouts through the brush rather than following the trail.

  Couldn't be helped. War has its own little risks, after all. Even if they shot him first, that'd provide its own warning that our ambush was blown.

  The last gentleman of the gun and I spread out to catch the long L portion of our kill zone in a crossfire converging on the machine gunner's arc of fire.

  Madsen could take the entire straight portion of the trail under fire, and swivel to take out anyone using the river as cover.

  All three of our fire zones overlapped from different angles to form the kill zone. We needed as many tangos there as possible when this kicked off.

  We settled into place to wait.

  I found a nice boulder, half-embedded in the jungle soil, to rest my rifle on. It'd give me a little bit of cover from return fire.

  Otherwise, I lay in six inches of dirt brown foliage, partially concealed by stems carrying long thin green leaves, but able to spot down the clearer trail.

  As we became one with the forest, the normal wildlife started up again. Birds trille
d to each other. Insects buzzed, looking to party.

  Something rattled off to my side. Unlike the hills of San Diego, this place didn't host deadly rattlesnakes. No, probably just an insect rubbing its carapace. Innocuous. Non-deadly.

  Not like us.

  * * *

  Pahk kept his voice low into the boat's microphone so neither the pilot bitch, nor his prisoner, could hear him well.

  "Admiral, Omar's American wife freed the ranger prisoner. A company of special operators hit the mountain camp right afterward. She probably communicated with them this whole time. I took the initiative of securing her as a prisoner for interrogation. Omar's men will melt into the brush after killing as many imperialists as they can and then regroup later. I've also brought Omar out with me, as he's wounded."

  "Speak up, Pahk. I can barely hear you. Why not simply leave Omar to his fate? What are we going to do with an American Muslim woman? Are you out of your mind?"

  This wasn't going even as well as Pahk envisioned as the worst-case scenario. Time for damage control.

  He tapped the microphone to create an excuse and then pressed it closer to his lips.

  "We can still use Omar. He is now firmly on our side, as his hatred for the Americans grows. A deniable and now more reliable weapon for you to influence events locally over time. His soldiers will return. His influence will grow within the country. He has contacts at the highest levels of their government."

  "We have contacts at the highest levels of their government. None higher, in fact. However, I'll think on it. At worst, we can drop him in the sea. What about the woman?"

  The boat chose that moment to skip off a wave instead of plowing through it. Pahk glared at the boat bitch, who ignored him to smile toward the horizon.

  "She's both Omar's wife, and thus important to control him, but the Americans may also trust her. Surely it's worth finding out her exact dealings and relationships with them before we hastily waste her as a resource?"

  "Send her photo and vital details to Comment Crew. Maybe they can come up with something we can use."

  "It shall be done as you order, Admiral."