Chapter 11
11
The weird feeling stayed with Striker as they were briefed on the location where the embassy employees were being held. He dug into the surveillance, shocked anyone had thought going to this resort was a good idea. The team for the rescue included guys he’d worked with before. Whitney, Jackson, and Bishop knew their shit. He’d met all three on a previous mission.
Before they headed out, they ran through a simulation four times, each time improving on their tasks. Worry filled him, but he pushed it away, thinking it had something to do with Shannon and not their mission.
Close to dark, they loaded onto helicopters and flew into the area where the men and women were being held. His nerves were on high alert though they were landing miles away from the resort.
The seriousness of their operation could be viewed in the faces of the men around him. Jackson pulled him to the side and revealed they were moving on the resort in less than an hour. Talks had broken down, and unless they somehow managed to miraculously resolve the issue, they would be called on to do the rescue.
Striker was ready for it when the call to head out came. His heart picked up speed as they left the secure location in the dark. Approaching the compound at night gave them the best advantage. As far as they knew, none of the embassy employees had been killed, but that could change at any moment.
His team was past the perimeter fence and had performed their entry tasks flawlessly. They approached the compound without being seen. Bullet holes in the walls of the outer buildings were evidence of the violence wrought here.
The adrenaline rush kicked into high gear as he slipped around a building and found the first combatant. This was dirty work, but he figured if someone was willing to kill women and children, destroy lives, and otherwise cause chaos, and then try to kill him, they didn’t deserve to live.
He dispatched the man quickly and kept moving, heading around the next corner. After making it past five outer buildings, they had the main building surrounded. His group had taken out four men guarding the perimeter. Striker believed they were in a good position for now.
His heart sped up as he prepared to go in. This was what he’d trained for, what he lived for. The danger of the situation wasn’t lost on him, but he had confidence in his abilities and the skills of his team.
Whitney gave the order, and they rushed forward. He had to take out one more guy before his quadrant of the building was secure. The hotel probably had been nice maybe a decade ago, but he could see the wear on the carpet and the paint chipped on the walls. Again, he was amazed anyone from the embassy had come up with this hotel location and thought it would be safe.
He stepped into the main room where most of the hostages were being held and froze. Blood was splashed on the floor and up one wall. He narrowed his gaze, staring at the group of embassy workers. Some were sitting, others were stretched out, not looking so good.
Jackson stepped close. “Four people are down. ”
“How bad?” Striker asked.
“Not good enough to walk out on their own,” Jackson glanced to the group. “Two women twisted their ankles, and there are a few more with scrapes, nothing serious.”
“So much blood,” Striker said. “Did anyone die?”
Jackson gave his head a quick shake. “None of our people.”
Striker stared around the room, thinking this was a terrible place for them to be. “This room is too big to defend.”
Jackson shook his head. “We gotta get them out of here.”
“Agreed.” Striker wondered how. The two guys who’d been shot were still losing blood. The women who’d been hit were faring a little better.
Whitney and Bishop came close and agreed with them; this was all sorts of screwed up.
“I don’t like it,” Whitney growled.
“Neither do I.” Jackson stalked off to talk to a few of the other men Striker didn’t know very well.
“Tell me, Striker, what do you think?” Bishop asked.
“I can’t believe anyone with any brains would come here. This was a suicide trip if I’ve ever seen one. They were stupid for leaving the embassy compound and crazy for setting up here. Don’t they know the area is a ticking time bomb?” He spat on the floor as anger filled him.
“Agreed,” Bishop said.
He glanced around at the terrified embassy workers. Were they pleased with their actions, or did they realized how much they’d messed up?
“We have a helicopter coming in,” Jackson said as he stepped closer.
“What about surface to air missiles?” Striker asked.
“Command said the SAMs were cleared,” Jackson added.
“I don’t feel right about it,” Bishop said.
Striker agreed with Bishop. “Something is off.”
“We have to get these people out. You have a better plan?” Jackson lifted his eyebrows and his lips turned down in a frown.
The tension grew, and Striker shifted from one foot to the other. His team was not happy these adults had left the safety of the American Embassy for some stupid team building activity in the middle of an unstable foreign country. His agitation grew as he thought the man who planned this had to be an idiot.
Striker forced himself to calm. He headed up to the room after twenty minutes of standing around. He was up higher than the rest of the buildings, but still, there were too many places for the enemy to hide. Add to it the thick forest circling the compound, and they were up shit creek. If the other side got themselves together and attacked, this would be his end.
One hour passed, then another. His headset crackled, and Jackson’s spoke. “Chopper heading our way. Two minutes to intercept.”
Striker scanned the horizon, watching for any movement. After a few seconds, he picked up the helicopter in the distance. A buzz of excitement filtered through him. Then everything went to hell.
The surface to air missile site wasn’t disabled. The chopper went down in a burst of light. Jackson cursed over the earpiece. This was turning into a shit show in hell. No way everyone had survived on that chopper. Heck, he’d bet his next paycheck most were dead.
They were trapped, and he hated the odds stacked against them. He guessed they could work their way out, walking to an exfil location. Then the high whine of a bullet whizzing past had him dropping to the roof. Striker hid behind the parapet that wrapped around the top of the building.
“Shit.”
“What’s up, Striker?” Whitney asked over the headset.
“Someone is shooting at me.”
“Not good,” Bishop said. “I’ll head to the roof to help.”
“No, Bishop,” Whitney stated. “I need you on a team heading to the far edge of the property. The guy in charge of the embassy just told me a family is stuck out in a building at the edge of the property and is afraid to come here.”
“Shit,” Striker said.
Bishop grunted but didn’t curse. “Sure thing, boss.”
“Striker stay in position,” Whitney commanded. “Hit anything that moves.”
“Yes, sir.”
He checked his equipment, making sure everything was in place. He had four cartridges ready. Tommy had brought along extra ammunition. If this went bad, they’d have to spend their downtime filling cartridges.
Gunfire erupted again.
They were up shit creek, and the enemy didn’t care what the rules of combat were supposed to be. As far as they were concerned, these men and women were complicit in the terror many in this nation lived through every day.
The sharp whine of a shell heading his way made Striker duck for cover. The missile missed the building but was too close. This was getting dangerous.
“Everyone. Downstairs. We’re moving,” Jackson yelled.
Striker grabbed his gun and shouldered his pack. He took off, running downstairs to catch up with the other men. Their paramedic had stabilized the people who’d been shot, and they were ready to move.
Striker came up behind Whitney. “Why are we leaving?”
“Bishop’s group found a better building; it’s smaller with a natural block behind it. We’re in the open here. They expect us to be here. Those mortar shells are going to hit us soon if we don’t move.”
As if to prove his point, a shell struck close, and the building shuddered. A few ceiling tiles fell, crashing to the floor, and chaos erupted. The people they were sent to rescue started running out the back door of the building. Jackson bellowed for them to stop, and one of the other Rangers caught a few of the people, but the embassy employees didn’t listen worth crap. They were running away from Army Rangers and into danger.
Gunfire erupted again. Six of the diplomats went down in the dirt about ten yards outside the building. He stared out at the scene, thinking they were guarding the dumbest of the dumb. The remaining diplomats raced to cower behind Rangers. Striker moved into position to shoot anyone or anything that came at them.
Whitney cursed under his breath and pointed at one of the guys from the embassy who seemed to be in charge. “You, come here. ”
Striker had been on Whitney’s bad side before, and it wasn’t pretty. For Whitney to be angry took a lot, like Striker had found out previously. This was going to be hard to watch.
The man’s voice shook when he spoke. “Y-yes?”
“I told your people to stay still. That meant no movement. They ran outside, and now they are dead. What part of ‘stay still’ do you not understand?"
“You should have stopped them,” the guy said.
“Are you freaking kidding me?” Whitney yelled. “Were we supposed to handcuff them? You listen to us from here on out. I don’t care what job you have at the embassy, we’re in charge. If you don’t like that and if you want to die, do it on your own. If you want to actually live, then listen to me. Like really listen to me this time. Every command I give, you follow like your life depends on it because it does.”
The embassy employee straightened his shoulders, and his lips turned down. “You were going to have us go out there. They would have died anyway.”
“No, we were lining up here, and we were going to send one guy out to survey the area. We weren’t going to send people running out into the night screaming.” Whitney looked around the room, shaking his head .
“Taking heavy fire,” Bishop said over the earpiece.
“Shit,” Jackson cursed.
“We’re fucked,” a woman behind Striker said.
They were. This was bad. They were in a foreign land where most of the inhabitants wanted them dead. There wasn’t going to be an easy escape. They had to knock out the surface to air missiles, get rid of the people in the trees firing on them, and somehow get these pampered idiots to listen to them. He’d run into difficult missions before, but this was ridiculous. These people seemed like they didn’t actually want to live.
Striker moved to Whitney and Jackson and kept his voice low as he spoke. “We’ve got to get rid of the missile sites.”
Whitney met Jackson’s gaze. They shook their heads. Striker took a step closer to them, hoping to press his point.
“It’s the only way,” he stated. “We have to get the heck out of here. No one will come in to pick us up until that missile site is gone.”
Whitney sighed. “He’s right. But it’s dangerous.”
“We need air support too,” Jackson said.
Whitney pulled out his phone and dialed into command. He stepped away and discussed the situation with the technical operations unit running the show. It didn’t look like a fun call from Striker’s perspective.
“I don’t like this,” Jackson said.
“Nope, I don’t either. I don’t like that Bishop and the rest of the guys are pinned down.”
Whitney ended his call and stepped over. “They don’t have a drone, and they’re working on getting access to a satellite overhead. We have to do this the old-fashioned way, blind as a bat and moving on hope and a prayer.”
Striker nodded. “Okay, I’ll take a group and move to Bishop’s position. We’ll take down whoever is pinning them in. Then we’ll head to the missile site.”
Whitney nodded. “Sounds good. Take Jackson, Brady, Ben, and Rand. We’ll clear out the group here.”
Jackson stepped closer to Whitney, his gaze landing on the group from the embassy who’d been held hostage. “These diplomats, do you think they can actually handle doing what you tell them to do?”
Whitney looked back and shook his head. “Who knows. They don’t really have too much choice though, do they.”
“I guess not,” Jackson said with a chuckle in his voice.
Jackson rounded up the guys for Striker, and they crept down a long hall while Whitney prepared a group of men to provide cover fire. They were risking it all, taking a huge chance heading out to disable the missile launcher, but they didn’t have much choice. If they didn’t take down the surface to air missiles, everyone would be dead before the end of the day. His team had to make these assholes regret taking on this group of Americans even if they shouldn’t have been out here at the resort in the first place.
“Alpha one, this is alpha two, heading out,” Striker said.
The pop-pop of gunfire erupted, and he motioned for his team to follow. They made it across the lawn to another building before they encountered anyone. Rand took him down fast and they moved closer to Bishop.
The building Bishop was near had already taken heavy fire and was missing its roof. They were in a terrible position and were pinned in on two sides. Now, they were taking fire again. Striker’s crew set up and took out four of the men aiming to destroy Bishop’s group.
“Move closer?” Jackson asked.
“Yeah, we should have a better angle on them.” Striker didn’t want to end up being trapped here, so they stalked around the back of another building before they moved into position. He was about to rush forward when someone fired a rocket-propelled grenade at the building where Bishop and his crew were pinned in. Panic flashed, but he had to push it away and focus. The secondary explosion knocked him back on his ass.
“Fuck, what was that?” Whitney said in his ear.
“RPG directed at Bishop,” Jackson replied.
Striker took aim, firing twice, taking out the guy with the RPG. He moved forward, getting closer to the building that was now up in flames.
“Bishop, you in there?” Jackson called out.
“Sure am,” Bishop replied. “We have injured.”
Striker was about to move when two guys stepped around a building. He fired, taking one down. Then Rand took out the other guy. In minutes, the two new combatants were dead and they were clear to move to Bishop.
Striker entered the building where Bishop and his crew were. They’d been hit hard. No one was dead, but they were all injured. Ben bent down and picked up the worst injured of Bishop’s men, carrying him out of the burning building.
Bishop and his team followed, limping a little as they moved at a snail’s pace to position themselves behind another building. Ben placed the man on the ground and checked him before standing tall.
Striker clenched his teeth and stared around at the guys, sending a prayer up to God or whoever was listening. They needed a break. This wasn’t how their mission should be going. Everything about this was screwed up. Their plans had been shot to hell.
Suddenly they were surrounded. Striker had little time to think. Bullets flew past, hitting the trees behind him. Bark exploded as the zing of rifle fire whizzed by.
Curse words filled his mind, but nothing escaped his lips. The only thing that mattered was getting out of here. Jackson moved first and kicked in the door of a building beside them. They rushed in and took up positions at the windows. He freaking hated being trapped in a building with little defensive advantage. His palms were damp with sweat, and his brain buzzed. Training took over, and he moved automatically into position, firing at the enemy.
They were smarter and better than this group attacking them. The other people may have the home field advantage, but Striker and his team would win.
It took them more than three hours to pick off enough of the enemy to move out. It was grueling work, but they took the time to treat their injured.
Jackson waved Striker over as he talked to Bishop. “We can’t move forward with your injured men.”
Bishop glanced around, resignation on his face. “We’ll stay behind.”
“Thank you,” Striker said. He made sure Bishop and his men had guns and ammunition. Striker hated leaving them, but he had little choice in the matter. Maybe they should have taken out the SAMs first, but then Bishop and his guys would be dead.
Striker and Jackson along with Ben, Brady, and Rand headed out. They moved slowly through the underbrush and past a stream. The sun was about to come up, exposing them to the enemy. They would have to find a protected place to hunker down for the day.
About that time Whitney spoke over his communication system. “It’s getting late. That sun will be showing everyone where you are.”
Striker knew Whitney was right, heck, he’d just been thinking the same thing. The need to move forward still drove him. “I know, but we need to take out that site.”
“Find a place to lay low for a few hours and rest,” Whitney said.
“Will do, boss. Any chance of them sending more in to help?”
“No can do. We have to take out that missile site. Once it’s gone, they’ll send a bird in.”
He knew a rescue was too much to hope for. After a few minutes of searching, they found a stone barn to hide in. Protected from the heat, and their enemies, they took turns sleeping and taking watch .
His stomach grumbled after he woke, and he consumed two packs of MREs, all the while wishing he was home with Shannon. She had wrapped his heart around her fingers and pulled the strings, not in an evil way, and he doubted she even noticed, but he was all tied up in her. She occupied a huge space in his mind. It was weird how before her, he’d been happy, but now that he knew she existed, he had to have her. She was the reason to exist.
The sky was getting darker, and Striker was ready to head out when a huge thunderstorm hit, making it impossible for them to move. The guys were antsy, and he didn’t blame them. Hell, he was antsy too and wanted to get this over and done with. Part of their crew had been hit hard; the mission was a failure so far. This group of idiots had placed themselves, and now others, in danger all because they didn’t want to stay at the embassy. If he were anywhere else but here, representing the US Army, he’d go off on a rant. This wasn’t the time or the place. He had to keep his cool because losing his mind while he was trying to protect people would end up hurting everyone in the end.
The storm cleared, and he rounded up his guys. They had five more miles to move before they hit the missile site. It was slow going with the water-logged mud, and streams that had gone from a trickle to near roaring rapids. It took them half the night to move the five miles.
Tired, he almost missed the clues when they were near their target. Another group of combatants was there. Striker and his team took cover, staying out of direct fire, but it was close. Some idiot fired an RPG at them, almost taking out the structure they were hiding behind.
“We have to end this,” Jackson said.
What an understatement. Being a snarky jerk wouldn’t help anyone, so he kept his voice even. “I know.” Striker moved into position, despite his throbbing headache. He blinked as he stared through his scope, hoping the pain wouldn’t mess him up. He needed all his focus, not just some of it.
More than twenty hours of heavy fire had drained them. Bishop’s crew was already injured, Whitney’s group was pinned in. Another RPG had struck the building they were holed up next to. The enemy was too close, and they would get resupplied, whereas his team wouldn’t, not until they took out the SAM site. There wouldn’t be another day of waiting. It was now or never.
His stomach tightened as he thought about what had to be done. Another RPG was fired and struck even closer. Dirt came down on them along with chunks of building. If only he could talk to Shannon one more time. He didn’t want to die here .
Striker pushed his pain away and concentrated. This was for Bishop and the guys. They had to get this unit offline. If he didn’t take this guy out, some of the men on his team would be dead and the embassy employees wouldn’t make it either. It was now or never.