Covert Commando: A Sam Harper Military Thriller Page 9

  Omar leaned forward to look back through the targeting reticle.

  "I've warned you before not to try to teach me tactics. If the infidels monitor us in the open, they will send missiles and bombs from far outside your toy's range. We'd have to flee, or huddle in the mountain caves to wait for them."

  "Not if you have a hostage. Say, an American soldier?"

  "Not good enough. They'll experience Allah's wrath and learn their folly."

  Pahk took three steps backward. "Careful with the backblast, firing so vertical. Don't want to torch your own feet."

  "Balik-harapis. Do you never want us to use these tools for fighting the infidel? Allahu Akbar!"

  He toggled the firing lever. Flames exploded from the tube's rear with a whoosh. The missile itself leapt from the tube, appeared to stall in the air for a split second, and then took off into the night sky, trailing white smoke and fire in a winding curve.

  The three other soldiers in the outpost clearing responded with their own repeated chants of "Allahu Akbar!"

  The display lit up with heat far above. A boom, like quick thunder out of a clear sky. When the screen cleared, no more drone heat signature.

  Omar handed the launcher to one of his men. "See that it is reloaded and ready to go, then keep further watch."

  "Yes, emir."

  "Come." Omar turned to Pahk. "I'll show you Onoda's sword."

  Pahk poured himself the dregs of the bottle, gulped it down, and then picked his way down the mountain trail after Omar.

  The people he'd put up with to give his mother and sister a new home with the Chinese!

  He grinned. At least now they could return to interrogate the American. No pain-dulling drinks for him.

  Who was the prisoner now? He looked forward to the expression on the American's face when he realized who held him captive.

  * * *

  Could I trust Raven? Certainly more than I could rely on Omar for anything positive.

  Besides, what would be the point of her betrayal? Psychological head games? It didn't fit Omar's style.

  My back ached from the cold marble floor. Water seeped through the stone from outside, leaving the equivalent of tide marks to turn it more green or blue.

  A bruised side kept me awake. Not sure if they'd cracked a rib when they knocked me out, but there was nothing really to do for it besides rest.

  My head bugged me. I kept wanting to feel, to rub, to check the scrapes and bruises they'd inflicted, but couldn't reach above my neck with the length of chain the tangos left me.

  But how would I escape?

  I tugged on the four chains holding me to the floor for the hundredth time.

  Still securely embedded into the stone.

  Technically, some kind of concrete. It looked like they'd drilled a hole, dropped a steel bolt and maybe a nut or two into it, then stuffed it with cement to hold better.

  Strong enough to restrain a person without much leverage.

  At least the temperature in the cave was cooler than outside. All that rock mass was good for something.

  My favorite captor's wife stopped by again. Their marriage was seriously messed up. At some point, I wouldn't mind having a family like my parents, but not like this.

  Raven looked around to be sure she was clear of the corridor outside.

  The one I'd never actually seen.

  She uncovered the pitcher. Pulled out a plastic bottle of muriatic acid, about the shape of a short water bottle. "This will do?"

  The commercial bottle had 31% blazoned across it. Not as concentrated as I'd hoped. I gave her a smile.

  "Sure, all we can do is try it." I scraped at where a chain bolt entered the floor. "Pour as much as you can into the the depressions around here. It'll slowly eat through."

  She nodded. Uncapped the bottle. Carefully poured, only splashing a little on the floor.

  I edged away. Last thing I needed were my own acid burns.

  After she finished the four pours, she capped the bottle. Set it on the floor. "How long will it take?"

  "Maybe hours?" Truthfully, I had no idea, just that it wasn't fast.

  "What if Omar comes before then? Sees what I've done?" She squeezed her headscarf on both sides with her hands, pulling her eyes and brows into a panicked line. "He'll kill us all!"

  "I'll lay like this." Rather than cringing away from the acid, I spread out my arms and legs. Set them in front of the bolts, angled above. "He won't notice."

  She stared. Took a deep breath. "As long as he doesn't get down low, it's not visible."

  "Not likely he's going to come crawling to me on his knees."

  She laughed. "No, not Omar."

  "Take the acid and return it. Don't want it missed."

  "Sorry, I freaked out for a second there." She picked up the bottle. "Anything else?"

  "No problem, dude. It's a stressful situation. I don't know how you keep it together. There is one other thing…"

  She cocked her head.

  I gave her my most convincing smile. The one that always works for me when I'm chained to the floor in a terrorist camp.

  "A back-up plan. We need a lever and a fulcrum."

  "A what?"

  "Something long and tough, like a steel pole. Think crowbar. Plus something strong for it to press on. A small anvil would be ideal, but I'm not sure you could get that past the guards, even if you had one."

  She scratched her chin. Considered. "The second part is easy. I have a tall cast-iron pot I could bring without much suspicion. Put some cooked potatoes in it or something. Not sure about the lever. All our poles are wood. Mostly bamboo, at that."

  "Maybe a rifle barrel?"

  She shuddered. "The armorer is unlikely to miss a bottle of acid for a few hours, and if he did, he'd think he misplaced it. But not a rifle. They lock those up."

  "Just a thought. Weapons are generally made pretty tough."

  "Onoda's sword. Omar only gets it out to show off to visitors." She smiled. "It's not his actual sword. Even I'm not dumb enough to believe that, but it's a pretty good example of a Japanese officer's sword."

  "Tempered steel. Perfect. Stronger than these chains, anyway."

  "I'll bring them on my next trip. I can fit the sword inside my robe, where the guard won't feel it."

  "Thank you. You know, Schnier has been looking for you ever since we got here. He wanted to find out what happened to you. This is going to blow his mind."

  She sighed. "I wish I'd never… well, that was all a long time ago."

  As I watched her sway out of the cave, I wished this was all a long time ago as well.

  But I needed to stay mentally in the present. My life and that of Omar's female captives depended on it.

  * * *

  Secretary of Defense Dorenza listened as Captain Larrikowal gave his after action report.

  Their prized AWACS had paid off, but Dorenza wasn't sure he'd have chosen to know, given the opportunity to do it again.

  Larrikowal's voice crackled from the speakerphone on Dorenza's desk. "After tracking the helicopters to the LCS Johnbee, they spotted multiple small craft making a rendezvous with the Americans. The evidence points to the Americans supplying the counter-sniper team and taking over the resort."

  "CIA, Special Operations?"

  "It's not clear. They left nothing identifiable behind and my casual inquiry to an American green beret captain I've liaised with before on counter-terrorism got me nowhere. Not even the local American military seems to know who they are, so I'd lean toward CIA."

  "The President would have a fit if he knew covert American commandos were running around Manila shooting up parking garages."

  That was perhaps more than he should've admitted to a junior officer, but the SAF was used to being thrust into politically charged situations.

  "Yes, sir. Can't say I'm too happy about it myself. Put my force at risk, not to mention wrecked the resort."

  What made sense to do next?

  They couldn't s
end a frigate out to the American LCS to demand to know why they'd been in country. They needed the 7th fleet to help keep China out of the West Philippine Sea, as much as it galled him to admit his own navy wasn't up to the task as a solo mission, even to himself.

  Did he tell the President? Withholding the information, if it came out, would give him good cause to finally demand his resignation. If he won the election, beat the Speaker, the President's hand-picked successor, then it wouldn't matter.

  Would the President, with his penchant for freezing out the Americans and siding with Chinese cash, betray their national interests before the election if he knew?

  He couldn't take the risk to his country.

  "Captain, you need to put a lid on this. Figure out who can tie the pieces together and I'll order them to sit on in. For now, it's classified top secret and I'm the only one authorized to approve sharing this intel with anyone new. We can't afford to have an incident with the Americans right now. Understood?"

  "What if they leave the ship? Return to land?"

  "Have the AWACS keep an eye on them. You may have to go sit in their control center to keep things under wraps. Call it all a capability exercise. Tell them I wanted a demonstration of our abilities versus a difficult target. Notify me immediately of any fresh developments."

  "I'll take care of it, sir."

  Dorenza's election prospects now rested in the hands of an SAF captain and a bunch of cowboy Americans.

  Well, it wouldn't be the first time his career depended on his soldier's abilities.

  He'd have to consider whether to reach out to the American ship directly. How would they respond? Outright denial? Or would they slink away, caught?

  Chapter Fifteen: Captive Torture

  The LCS Johnbee's Commander wasn't super-excited about Michelle's change of plans. He held his cap under his arm in the wardroom, so she could see his forehead turn red and the blood vessels in his neck bulge.

  She stepped across the monotonous gray non-slip floor to move closer and set her hand on his arm. "Thank you for all your crew's fine support. I don't know what we would've done without you here to rescue us all. I'll make sure the agency sends some kind of unit-level commendation over to the Navy."

  Salt water permeated the ship's air. Probably why these naval officers always seemed wrinkly and well-preserved.

  He gave a gruff cough. "My orders were to pick your mission up off the beach and return you to Japan, not steam around the islands and launch air assaults on friendly powers."

  "It's all top secret, of course." She smiled. "I'm sure you understand. Probably taken part in lots of counter-terrorism missions lately."

  In actuality, Michelle knew this was only his second time away from dock in command of a ship and that as an executive officer, he'd spent more time in the North Atlantic playing hide and seek with the Russians than anywhere near a terrorist.

  "Of course, but what shall I tell my HQ?"

  "That the agency has requested you spend a couple of more days in the area in order to complete the freedom of navigation cover mission. Make it all look good to our Chinese friends. Wouldn't want them to suspect we weren't telling the truth about why you're here, would you?"

  "No, of course not."

  "Good. Then it's settled. I'll discuss with Schnier anything else we need to get done, and we'll work out any details with your exec."

  She carefully refrained from calling Schnier captain. In her experience, naval officers were a bit touchy about that aboard ship, especially when they were the captain of the ship, but only a commander in rank.

  He sighed and then turned to go. Nodded to the entering Schnier as they passed each other.

  "Get your men settled in?"

  "Tight quarters, but we've seen worse. Once the crew refuels the helicopters, we can get back in the air right away." He waited until the naval officer was out of earshot. "Did you ask the captain about using his command-and-control facilities for our intelligence platoon and running the raid?"

  "We didn't discuss it, directly, but I'm sure the exec will be more than accommodating. Captain agreed to stay in the area for another 48 hours."

  "Then I'd better get things moving. Bad enough you getting run out of the Philippines forced us to abort. Our job is to be out protecting other people, not running away from the wolves."

  Was he really going to blame her for the SAF knocking on their door? They'd been perfectly isolated and undetected until he and Sam had to cowboy off to Manila with his vaunted shooters and then get involved in a sniper fight.

  "Our job isn't to get caught, either, like Sam."

  "Sure, knock him while he's down. A prisoner. Maybe even dead."

  She took a deliberate breath. Now wasn't the time to air out their relationship problems. Smiled. "I'm sorry. I guess the stress is getting to me more than I'd like to think. I forgot, you don't know."

  He shrugged. "Know what?"

  "We lost the Reaper."

  "Lost?"

  "Okay, probably shot down. It picked up a SAM signature just before going off the air. Most likely Chinese. Their weapons are everywhere around here."

  His mouth gaped open. "You're just now telling me that if we'd gone ahead with the raid as planned, we were facing surface-to-air missiles?"

  "Yes, so you can see how that complicates your return. We need to get another drone up, if nothing else."

  "Complicates? You mean prevents, don't you? We'll have to go in on boats. They'll have plenty of warning. We'll have no overhead intelligence. They'll be on the defense, with interior lines. We'll be moving blind, which is how Harper got himself caught. But yeah, sure, complicates matters."

  Okay, maybe she hadn't realized what a big deal that was.

  "We'll figure it out. Just need to do some mission planning. Maybe we can take the SAM site out ahead of time."

  "Those are unarmed recon and cargo birds out there, not A-10s. They're not setup for going after anti-aircraft installations, or anything like that."

  "Maybe the exec will have some ideas. After all, this ship carries lots of missiles, doesn't it?"

  "Some. Not a lot. Couple dozen, probably. Mostly anti-ship missiles. A HELIOS directed energy system for anti-missile defense. I wonder what the range on that is? Either way, we're going back in as soon as possible."

  "Go check with the experts and create an op plan. I'll see what I can do to figure out how to obtain better intelligence over the target. Maybe I can get a satellite. There's a guy who owes me a favor, so I don't have to call my boss in D.C."

  Schnier cocked his head. "How's he taking all this, anyway? Give a new deadline now that the old one has passed?"

  "What he doesn't know won't hurt him."

  "You're playing with fire, there."

  "Always." She pointed at the hatch. "Now go."

  But could she get herself out of the figurative frying pan any other way?

  * * *

  Pahk caught his foot on the threshold of Omar's combination living, dining, and meeting room. He righted himself before any embarrassment.

  A glorified cavern with wall hangings and woven mats to disguise it. To kill the echoes and pretend they weren't inside a mountain.

  Oppressive, but hopefully he could depart soon enough and return to the even closer quarters aboard ship.

  Omar rooted through a cabinet. "Songbird! Where is my sword?"

  Raven appeared in the entranceway. She clutched at her stomach. "Have you checked the chest in your bedroom?"

  He growled. "Why would it be in there? I never bring it in there."

  "I'll go look, just in case." She shuffled toward the adjoining room.

  He strode toward the rough stone opening. "Never mind, I can look myself."

  While Omar banged around in his bedroom, Raven minced her way to a stand-up closet. Sort of a tall box made of bamboo. She flipped through the contents, moved papers, squatted to look under some of its contents.

  "There's nothing in here, either." Omar called.


  Pahk wandered toward the bedroom door.

  Behind him, Raven chuckled. "Here it is. Leaning up against the back of the closet."

  Omar stormed out of the room. "That's the first place I looked."

  She shrugged. "As you often say, sometimes things aren't as easy to see to those who seek them directly, wise master."

  He frowned at her, but picked up the sword and toddled over to display it lengthwise to Pahk.

  "You know swords?"

  Pahk nodded. "We have steel craftsman in my country."

  Omar slid it from its bamboo sheath. Medium length, the sword showed the marks of tempered steel, slightly curved with a thin cutting edge and a thicker squared-off side.

  "Here, take a look." He presented it hilt first.

  Pahk picked up the sword. Light. Balanced. He held up the hilt for a closer look. Almost certainly authentic. At least seventy years old.

  "I told you the story of Onoda, who used these caverns before. Lasted for decades to strike his enemies. That was his sword. Bought it from his widow."

  Pahk returned the weapon. "I see. Very symbolic."

  Omar grunted. Slammed it home in the sheath. "Tough, like us." He leaned it back against the back of the closet. Picked up a wooden rod and a small leather case instead. "Let's go."

  Raven seemed to shrink away from the sword and rod, but Omar didn't look at her, so Pahk followed him out to the rocky corridor.

  His little buzz from the Stainless roiling in his gut would help him get through this next part.

  * * *

  Captain Larrikowal stood formally at ease in front of Secretary Dorenza's massive desk.

  "No further activity from the American ship, but they also haven't moved away from Lubang Island."

  "We've long suspected a terror cell in the mountains there. If they conduct a strike on them and the wrong person notices… this is the information age. We can't stop some peasant farmer's video of missiles and gunfire in the night from going viral."

  "But how can we stop them?"

  "Perhaps we can't, but we can at least make known to them that we know what they're up to. I'm sending you out to the ship. Fly to the coast and then take a cutter from there. Bring some supplies. Fresh fruit. Bananas. Tourist trinkets for the sailors to take to their families back home. Call it a goodwill visit."