In the Blood: A Thriller, page 18
part #5 of Terminal List Series
Samir raised his AK and heard a crack to his left, then another, and felt the sting of skull fragments and warm brain matter pepper the left side of his face.
What is this?
He looked back at the house and saw two distinct muzzle flashes from behind two of the front windows.
What?
Samir went to a knee behind the vehicle as another one of his men took two rounds to the chest from the aggressor still coming at them from the trees.
“Get in the car!” he yelled at last remaining soldier on the line.
The man stood to run around the middle vehicle and took rounds to the hip, stomach, chest, and finally the head.
Samir ran.
Rear vehicle. Get in. Keys in ignition. Go.
Samir’s sprint put him at an angle that made the fire from the house ineffective.
He heard the American’s bullets eating up the two cars between them, chewing through metal and glass, their trajectory deflected on the way to their target.
Allah, protect me.
Samir put the Mitsubishi Pajero in drive and stepped on the gas.
CHAPTER 43
REECE HEARD THE GUNFIRE from inside the house and knew immediately that Tuvia and Shiri were on the Galils.
Fortune favors the bold.
Reece continued his advance, taking down two more of the attackers and seeing another drop to the deck.
He rushed to the base of another large tree as the PKM fired at him again and then switched its attention to the house.
Reece moved his head from behind cover to survey the situation. He could see the small SUV racing off down the street, the machine gun on the hillside lighting up the house. That was a long shot for an AK, especially one he hadn’t sighted in.
He rolled to the prone at the side of the tree. The AK magazine made it difficult to fire from the ground, so Reece canted his body along with the weapon.
Maybe this will distract them enough for Tuvia and Shiri to get to cover if they are not already there.
Reece pushed the AK selector to the bottom position and then came back up one to go on full auto, sighted in as best he could, and pressed the trigger, letting loose with what was left in his magazine. He then rolled to his left and got to his feet.
Run.
Reece’s suppressive fire had its intended effect. The machine gun went silent.
He sprinted to the side of the road before the machine gun opened up again.
If you can see them, they can see you.
The SEAL could no longer see muzzle flash. He was below their line of sight.
The escaping SUV was almost at a turn at the end the street.
Decision point.
Attack uphill at an unknown entrenched enemy machine gun position in the dark or kill the man at the end of the block?
Reece sprinted to close the distance. As the car turned broadside in its turn at just over one hundred yards, Reece brought the rifle to his shoulder. He moved to a kneeling position and flipped the selector to semiautomatic. When his sights settled on the driver-side window, Reece pressed the trigger. Second sight picture, press, next sight picture, press. Reece put ten rounds through the window and door, the Pajero sucking each one like a sponge of death. The SUV swerved off the road, hit a curb, and smashed into a parked car before coming to a stop.
The SEAL stood and advanced on the crippled vehicle, continuing to send round after round into it as he approached. When the magazine ran dry, he twisted the Kalashnikov into his work space as his left hand grabbed a fully loaded magazine from his pocket. He pushed the new magazine into the mag-release, sending the empty one clattering to the street. He rocked the new mag into place, feeling the satisfying click, and reached underneath the weapon to rack the charging handle.
The rifle was back in battery.
Reece was back in the fight.
He fired two more rounds as he continued forward before an RPG flew from the hillside and impacted the second floor of Shiri’s house.
Reece adjusted in a millisecond. Prioritize and execute. He was going up. Sprinting from the street, Reece jumped into a ditch that led toward his new target. He heard another RPG fly. He stopped and turned in time to see it detonate on a different house, Shiri’s in-laws’. The kids.
Reece’s one free hand dug into the dirt of the hill, his legs burning with the intense output coupled with the desire to kill. He was breathing so heavily that he almost mistook the sounds of rotor blades for another RPG. Reece paused and turned to look into the night.
The blacked-out Little Birds crested the rise behind the homes from off the Bental Reservoir, climbing to an elevation just above their intended target on the hillside. The agile helicopters were slightly darker than the night sky. Reece had seen AH-6s on attack runs downrange so he knew what was coming. He hit the deck as “dash 1” launched a barrage of Hydra 7 rockets at the enemy RPG and machine gun position. As it veered off, “dash two” opened up with its 7.62 M-134 minigun.
Reece looked at the SUV at the end of the street.
He could hear the Little Birds banking in the sky.
Well aware of what a man running down the street with an AK was going to look like under the NODs of the pilots, Reece dropped the AK. They still might shoot him but at least they would take a moment when they recognized that he was unarmed. Without a rifle in hand he could be a friendly Israeli neighbor trying to help at the scene of an accident.
Now he was running at what might be an armed enemy combatant with no rifle or pistol of his own.
Not your greatest idea, Reece.
Despite all the 7.62x39 rounds the driver side of the vehicle had taken, Reece knew that bullets did strange and unpredictable things when they hit metal and glass.
As he approached at a full sprint, sure enough, the car door opened. A man was attempting to get out.
Reece sped up, hearing the helo overhead closing in. He wondered if they had shooters on sniper platforms on the sides.
More than a few of Reece’s bullets had pierced the skin of the Pajero, as well as the skin of the man driving it.
Reece kicked the open door and sent it smashing into the wounded terrorist’s head, before grabbing him and pulling him from the vehicle and dumping him on the ground.
He did a quick scan of the car to ensure he was alone, before doing a cursory search of the man on the ground and removing a pistol from a holster on his belt. Gsh-18. 9mm. Reece quickly checked its status in case he needed to give the man more medicine but one look was enough to convince Reece that the bullets he had soaked up in their encounter were more than enough to send him to his maker.
Blood was already bubbling from his mouth, and as much as Reece wanted to save him for questioning, he knew all efforts in this case were futile.
He saw the man’s lips moving.
Arabic?
Reece knelt at a distance that allowed him to see his hands in the off chance they went for a hidden blade.
“American,” the man whispered.
He saw recognition in the eyes.
They were after me. I was the target.
Reece heard one of the small helicopters land in the street behind him.
The man’s lips moved again.
Reece heard boots on the asphalt behind him. He heard someone shout in Arabic, then in Hebrew.
Reece leaned closer. This time the command behind him was in English.
“Don’t move.”
Reece froze, straining to discern the words on the dying man’s breath.
As the man’s eyes rolled back in his head, Reece heard the words of the Quran.
“Judgment belongs to Allah.”
CHAPTER 44
LITTLE BIRDS CAN LAND almost anywhere. A Black Hawk is another matter.
While the AH-6s continued to dominate the skies, assaulters from the MH-6 that had landed in the street kept an eye on the American as the Black Hawk came to a hover. In a matter of seconds, a fast-rope was kicked out and a steady stream of Yamam operators slid to the ground, immediately forming a perimeter as the helo veered off to land in an area nearby that could accommodate it.
An operator broke from the perimeter and ran to Reece’s position, exchanging words in Hebrew with the men guarding the unknown.
“And you are?” he said in English.
“I’m James Donovan. I’m here with Tuvia Yatom.”
The commander of Yamam held up a smartphone, comparing Reece to a photo.
“Make me feel better and tell me what Director Katz’s favorite food is.”
Reece almost smiled. “Cigarettes.”
“Okay, it’s him. I’m Harel,” he said by way of introduction. “What’s the SITREP?”
“Tuvia is hit. He’s in the house there. Shiri Galin is with him. She was hit in the back. Nonambulatory. House also took an RPG. Kids are at the in-laws’. It took two rockets. Follow me.”
The Yamam soldiers looked at their commander, who said, “You heard the man, follow him. Gold, take an element into the house. Medic—get in there. Blue—on me. Red—push out and get me a perimeter.”
Without the weight of kit, Reece made it to the in-laws’ house ahead of the Yamam. He reached for the front door handle and pushed down with his thumb.
Locked.
Stepping back, he turned and delivered a powerful mule kick that sent the door flying inward on its hinges.
He had never gotten the names of the in-laws, or the kids.
“Hello, friendlies, coming in,” he said stepping through the threshold.
“Hold up, sir, let us clear it,” a Yamam operative said from behind.
Reece ignored the directive.
One of the rockets had impacted the main level. It was a mess of books blown from shelves, broken furniture, and burning carpet. No bodies. Another rocket had impacted the upper floor. Reece raced up a nearby staircase and into a hallway similar to Shiri’s. In a deviation from protocol, he sprinted past open doors to the room that had taken the hit. His heart sank as he saw the hole in the wall, the stuffed animals, the wooden toys. A bunk bed toppled over and smoldering.
No!
Reece pushed himself into the room, reaching down to throw a small mattress out of the way. Nothing. Closet. He opened the door and brushed the clothes aside. Empty.
He exited back into the hallway, the Yamam operators having cleared the rooms as they went.
“All clear, sir.”
“Where are they?” Reece asked, brushing past them and back to the stairway.
Harel was at the base of the stairs. He held up a hand.
“They’re okay.”
“Where are they?” Reece asked again, coming down the stairs.
“Every house built from the mid-eighties on in Golan has a bomb shelter. This one is down in the basement, dug back into the hill. This entire house could get wiped out and they’d be fine.”
“Let’s keep them here until we get a status on their mother,” Reece said.
“We will keep them in their shelter for another hour or two, just in case.”
“Good.”
“They are fine down there, Mr. Donovan,” Harel said in response to the look on Reece’s face. “Unfortunately, this is not an uncommon occurrence. Usually it’s Katyushas or suicide bombers. That’s life in Israel.”
Reece considered how he would feel about Lauren and Lucy hiding in a bunker as rockets rained down on their Coronado home.
“Can I see them? Shiri will want to know.”
“You can. Follow me.”
* * *
Abbas Ahmed Marmash lay perfectly still. He had heard the gunfire and the explosions. Had the assault force been killed? Was he the only one left to complete the mission?
Abbas pushed those concerns from his mind.
You have been given a gift, Abbas. Now there are more Jews to kill.
He could hear the Hebrew all around and although he couldn’t understand the language, he knew that these were soldiers. These were the same men who hunted and terrorized his people.
Abbas’s legend would be secure. These were special operators, murderers. They emerged out of the night to kill his people. Most of those Allah called to Paradise only managed to take out soldiers at checkpoints or civilians in cafés. Abbas would take the most highly trained among them. His strike would cut deep.
Inshallah.
CHAPTER 45
REECE FELL IN BEHIND the Yamam commander as they walked through the now-secure home. They passed an operator standing by a door at the top of what opened into a narrow stairway and descended into a basement that contained a washer-dryer and a heating unit. The floor was concrete, with a drain in the middle. Cardboard boxes were stacked against one side of the room along with a rack hung with clothes.
“This way,” Harel said.
Another door opened off the cement retaining wall. It led to another cement wall, with the path opening up to the left and then right again into the bunker. There were seven old army cots, a few stacks of bottled water, snacks, and several toys. Reece’s eyes fell to an old FN FAL rifle in the corner.
A red rug ran between the cots, down the middle of the shelter. Two bulbs hung from the ceiling, illuminating the space.
An elderly couple sat on a cot watching the older kids lead the younger ones in a game. Beige tiles with numbers were scattered on the floor and on racks set up in front of the players.
“Mr. Donovan, meet Mr. and Mrs. Gartner, Daniel and Safra. And these are the kids; that’s Ayelet and David. They are Shiri’s kids. And these here are Leah and Shmuel.”
Daniel stood and shook Reece’s hand but Safra stayed seated, though she acknowledged Reece with a slight nod.
The youngest got up and walked to Reece.
He said something in Hebrew.
“English,” the old man said.
“I saw you in the park today talking to Aunt Shiri.”
Reece knelt down. The boy was just five. He must have been born around the time his father died.
“That’s right. I was there,” Reece said. “I saw you run. You’re fast.”
“That’s what Aunt Shiri says.”
“Well, she’s right, you know.”
“I’m Shmuel. What’s your name?”
Shmuel. He was a Sam, just like Freddy Strain’s special needs son.
“My name is James.”
“I like that name. Aunt Shiri reads me James and the Giant Peach.”
“She does, does she?” Reece said, remembering his own mother reading him that book as a child.
“What were you doing at the park? Do you like slides?”
“I do,” Reece responded, looking at Daniel for help.
“It’s okay, James, you can tell him,” he said.
“Uh, I wanted to see you,” Reece said, reaching up and playfully tapping Shmuel on the end of his nose.
“Me?”
“Yes, and your sister.”
Leah picked her head up from the game.
“I knew your mom a long time ago.”
“My mom is gone,” the little boy said. “She’s not coming back.”
Reece’s heart was breaking. The toughest part of war was not the killing or the bloodshed. It was the children. It was innocence lost.
“I know, Shmuel. She wanted me to tell you something.”
“She did? What?” The boy’s eyes lit up.
Reece looked at the grandparents. Their stern faces warned Reece that Shiri had passed along his message.
Reece turned back to the young boy.
“She wanted me to tell you, and your sister, that she loved you very much.”
“She did?”
“She did.”
“Want to play Rummikub with us? I’ll teach you,” Shmuel said, grabbing Reece’s free hand.
“I might have to do that next trip.”
“Your hand is dirty,” Shmuel said, laughing. “When we go upstairs you can wash it in the kitchen.”
Reece looked down at his hand. The blood had dried and turned the color of rust.
“Thank you. I’ll do that. I need to go but I’ll be thinking of you and about how fast you are.”
“Bye, James.”
“Bye, Shmuel.”
“Next time you visit, will you go down the slide with me?”
“Count on it.”
Reece stood as Shmuel ran back to his game. He waved at the other kids and nodded to Safra, who remained on the couch.
He began to reach for Daniel’s hand but stopped and looked at his palm.
“Sorry, it’s dirty,” Reece said, pulling his hand back.
The old man walked with Reece and Harel to the entrance of the shelter.
“Gavriel is outside,” the Yamam commander said. “He’s going to stay there for a while. I’ll be back to let you know when you can come out.”
“I’m coming up with you. I need to see my Shiri,” he said.
Harel agreed.
“And you, young man,” he said, addressing Reece. “I know that’s not what Aliya told you to tell us. Shmuel wasn’t even born when you knew her. Thank you though for leaving him with that memory.”
The old man struggled on the stairs up to the main level. In the kitchen he steadied himself on the counter and caught his breath.
“Not as spry as I used to be,” he said.
“Mr. Gartner, why don’t you wait here,” said Harel. “We’ll go check on your daughter and then come get you.”
Daniel took a step and almost fell over.
Reece and Harel caught him and helped him to a chair.
“I’m okay, boys. Just the years catching up.”
“Even so,” Harel said, “I’m going to send the medic over. Might not hurt to have some oxygen.”
“I’m fine.”
“Efrem,” Harel said to the operator standing by the door to the basement, “get Mr. Gartner a glass of water. We’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Harel motioned to Reece to follow him outside. They stopped on the front porch.
“Stress, anxiety. We’ll get him checked out.”
