Dangerous Alliance, page 32
Sounds like several cars backfiring disturbed the night.
Gunfire!
The driver increased the truck’s speed, the vehicle swaying over several potholes. A few minutes later, the commandeered troop carrier slowed and stopped.
The leader jumped into the back and opened the four barrels. “Nothing to be alarmed about—bandits. A former military vehicle traveling alone at night must be a lucrative target. We’re fine now, but I’ll give you ten minutes to stretch your legs. When you return, you may sit on the bench.”
Wide-eyed, Jung Gi and the boys jumped out of the vehicle and stretched. Soo touched the leader on the arm before joining his family. “How do we address you?”
The man appeared to think about this before chuckling. “Refer to the four of us as the Park Brothers. I am Mr. Park.”
“Thank you, Mr. Park, for what you are doing. You’re risking your lives for us—why?”
Mr. Park gazed at Soo. “Justice. With your connections to Wook, you know many secrets which should be shared with the outside world.”
After the break, Soo and his family returned to the back of the vehicle. They set off again for an unknown destination.
***
Hour after hour passed. With the exception of several short breaks for fruit, water, and a stretch, everything appeared the same. Few vehicles traveled on the road.
At their next stop, Soo checked their surroundings. A hint of dawn appeared on the eastern horizon. South! We’re going south. But where?
Before they boarded, Mr. Park approached. “We must leave this highway and will travel on the back roads. The journey will be rough but hang on and please be patient. Remain in the vehicle until I inform you.” He stared at Soo. “No matter what you hear or what happens, stay hidden. After the road becomes smoother, you must hide in the barrels.”
As predicted, the vehicle found every pothole in the road. We’ll be bruised at this rate. Soo held Jung Gi on one side of him, with one of the boys on the other. The youngest clung to Jung Gi.
After an indeterminable amount of time and several stops, the bumpiness of the back roads ceased and the truck’s speed increased. They clambered back into the barrels, heeding Mr. Park’s instructions.
Hidden in the darkness, no idea where they were, Soo worried. Where are we? Were we right to trust these strangers?
Traffic increased around them. Horns blared and brakes squealed as the cacophony of city sounds increased.
The vehicle stopped. Mr. Park helped Soo and his family out of the barrels. They jumped down and found themselves in a warehouse.
“Ambassador Soo. It’s been a long journey so far. Your travels aren’t over, but you will rest here for a couple of days.”
“Thank you, Mr. Park. Where are we?”
A grin spread across Mr. Park’s face. “May I be the first to welcome you and your family to Seoul.”
Chapter Forty-Four
Shark’s Bay
South of Mogadishu, Somalia
The occasional seagull dove toward the camp by the beach, searching for breakfast. No scraps available, they squawked as they flew higher. The morning light shimmered across the still water, reaching a glistening finish as the waves tugged at the shore.
Jamiila stoked the remnants of last night’s fire, adding the remainder of the charcoal Gerhard had lugged from his vehicle when they arrived. She filled a pot with water from the ocean, dropped in a purification tablet as Alf had instructed her, and set the container on a tripod.
The group woke and packed their gear in readiness to embark on their mission. While Jamiila finished preparing breakfast, the others policed the site. All they needed before setting off was fruit, bread, tea or coffee.
Fifteen minutes later, scattered footprints disappeared as a blustering wind drove sand into them. The vehicles loaded, Gerhard led the four-vehicle convoy along the final leg to Mogadishu.
They passed the damaged refinery and power plant, both on their right. Trevor had switched vehicles with Alf, and now rode with Gerhard and the others. “A lot of superficial damage on both facilities. I suspect they’ll be operational before long.” Trevor glanced out the window.
Fartaag spoke to Jamiila.
“Fartaag says Mogadishu had electrical problems before the attack on the power plant.” Jamiila smiled when Fartaag spoke again. “He said one time an engineer tasked to record temperature readings did an excellent job.”
She laughed at Fartaag’s next words. “But he never informed his supervisor when it went critical. Before he remembered, it blew, sending parts through the roof and the wall, some pieces falling a mile away.”
Everyone laughed.
“Ag, man. I bet he lost his job.”
Trevor clenched his jaw. “I’m surprised security isn’t tighter. With the attacks on the city, I’d expect more military and police presence.”
“You spoke too soon, Trevor.” Gerhard pointed ahead as they approached the airport. “Tanks and armored personnel carriers—they’re waiting for another attack.”
“Fartaag says turn left at the K-7 roundabout. This will take us to Afgooye.”
***
On the outskirts of Mogadishu, Trevor asked Gerhard to pull over. The other vehicles followed and everyone piled out for a stretch.
“Through Jamiila, Fartaag says we’re about twenty-five kilometers from Afgooye. For you Yanks—about fifteen miles.” Trevor gazed at each person in turn. “Time to put our game face on and tackle the enemy. Any questions?”
The group remained quiet, as they prepared to commence their mission.
“Mount up and move out.” Trevor chuckled. I sound more like Nate every day.
Thirty minutes later, the convoy veered left off the primary road and continued along a winding trail. Banana trees hugged both sides of the path, dimming the way ahead.
Squeezed in the back next to Jamiila, Pun continued to swipe his kukri along a sharpening stone. He tested the blade on his arm—a thin bloodline appeared. Satisfied, he put the stone away and returned the kukri to its sheath.
Fartaag spoke to Jamiila. “Trevor, we must stop in about five minutes. Fartaag says we’re about three kilometers away from Tahliil’s compound.”
Trevor slapped a full magazine into his SA-80 assault rifle and checked his belt for his Double Trouble stun gun. Hope we can rescue Prince George and Silvia without bloodshed. But, that’s not our decision.
Gerhard gestured to a faint track leading to the right. “Trevor, suggest we pull off this path and hide the vehicles.”
“Agreed.”
The men and Jamiila dismounted. Trevor held a piece of paper in his hand, a rough sketch of Tahliil’s compound. “Sergeant Taylor, your team has the east perimeter. Sergeant Davies, yours will take the north.”
“Sir.” Both men acknowledged their assignment.
“Gerhard, take Alf, Fergus, and Pun. You’ll cover the south section. This leaves Willie, Nate, and me to hit the west, where the primary entrance is located. Jamiila and Fartaag will stay with my group.”
Stern expressions on their faces, no one uttered a sound. A bird flew off when the commandos charged their weapons.
“Let’s head out. Radio contact if a necessity. Call sign for each team is their respective perimeter.”
Trevor’s team took the lead, followed by Gerhard, Taylor, and Davies. The last team crossed the road and disappeared into the trees.
Snap!
Everyone dropped to the ground. Trevor scanned the terrain ahead. Movement. Armed. Did we surprise a guard?
He signaled for their sniper. Alf squatted next to Trevor.
“Runner ahead. Armed. Track and terminate.”
Alf nodded once and scurried forward. No sound indicated his movement, a single branch swayed in the passing breeze.
Five minutes later, Alf returned. He gave a thumbs-up.
Trevor stood, the others following. When he estimated they were about a kilometer from the compound, he paused, his hand in the air moving in a circle. The team leaders approached.
“We separate now to our respective positions. Key a radio once for north, twice for east, and three times for south when you’re in position. I’ll do four. Thirty seconds after all teams are ready, we go.”
The leaders signaled their men and snaked forward, disappearing among the banana trees.
Trevor led his group to the west side and waited for the others to signal. He surveyed the wall, noting four armed guards standing near the vehicular entrance.
He shifted forward for a better view when he overheard two men talking. A roving patrol?
Trevor pulled his team back. When they were a safe distance away, he talked with Fartaag through Jamiila. “There are more guards than you mentioned. Also, a roving patrol? Any more surprises?”
Fartaag shrugged. “My information was accurate at the time. Someone made changes.”
Trevor shook his head in disgust. Murphy’s law again. Let’s hope there aren’t any more surprises.
They moved back to their original positions, weapons ready.
A single click from the radio.
Two more.
Silence.
Three clicks soon followed.
Trevor keyed his radio four times. Thirty seconds and we begin. He tightened his finger on his launcher, ready for action.
Whoosh!
Trevor fired a single smoke grenade over the wall. The smoke increased as the other teams did the same.
The guards in the towers, in apparent panic, opened fire, long bursts shredding leaves from banana trees. The roving patrol scurried to a gate and forced their way inside, leaving the door ajar.
The more-seasoned guards at the vehicle gate knelt and spread their fire in what appeared to be established shooting lanes. One by one, they toppled over, victims of well-aimed return fire from Willie and Nate.
While gunfire subsided in their section, Trevor realized additional guards must be on the walls in the other areas as the firing increased four-fold.
Smoke and the smell of something burning filled the air. The screams of the dying overwhelmed the sounds of firing.
Whoomph! Whoomph! Whoomph!
The teams are breaching the walls. Time to move. Trevor gave the signal and his team crept toward the open gate.
Once inside the compound and not meeting any resistance, Trevor edged along the wall toward a two-story building, followed by Jamiila and Fartaag. Willie and Nate went the opposite way, checking bodies to ensure no one was faking their death.
Trevor glanced toward a single-story building, its roof a mass of flames. He continued moving past when a bloodcurdling scream came from an opening. Ablaze, a man staggered toward Trevor brandishing a machete.
Blam!
Shot after shot tore into the man. Trevor turned, half expecting Willie or Nate was his savior.
Jamiila stood, her arms by her side, a pistol in her right hand.
Trevor dashed to her side. “I told you to stay back. Are you okay? Have you been hit?”
Jamiila shook her head. “No, he was going to strike you. I had to do something …. I’ve never killed anyone before.” She trembled as she wrapped her arms around herself.
“You did what you had to. Where did the pistol come from?”
“Willie gave it to me.”
Trevor frowned. “Okay, we must move forward. The two-story building is our objective.”
While the commandos and Gerhard’s team cleared the compound, Trevor led his group toward their target.
Willie and Nate rushed up the steps, ready to breach the building. Nate reached from his crouching position and tried the doorknob.
Unlocked.
He nodded at Willie before using his SA-80 to shove the door open. Gunfire erupted from inside. During a pause, Nate hugged the floor and Willie walked high, gaining access to the interior, as Trevor provided rearguard support.
Both fired, catching two Somalis reloading. The guards slumped to the floor, their fighting days over.
Trevor moved toward the stairs, a closed door to his left. He pushed the door open.
A man stood inside, swaying on his feet, a bloody rag around an arm, a weapon in the other but pointed at the floor.
“Asad! Don’t shoot!”
Jamiila rushed to Trevor. “He—he’s my friend.”
Trevor grabbed the man’s arm holding the AK-47 and wrestled it from him. He pulled his stun gun and incapacitated the man.
“You’ve killed him!” Jamiila knelt beside Asad, tears brimming.
“No, Jamiila. I didn’t kill him. You saved his life.” Trevor helped her to stand. “If you hadn’t spoken, I would have shot him. He’ll recover.”
Once again, Willie and Nate took the lead, creeping up the stairs, SA-80s pointed toward the second-floor opening. At the top of the stairs, they split and began clearing rooms.
Trevor, followed by Jamiila and Fartaag, remained on the landing, waiting.
Willie signaled to Trevor, who stepped toward him, keeping close to the wall.
“We’ve cleared the other rooms.” Willie rapped on the door. “This one’s locked.”
“Open it.” Trevor grinned.
Willie handed his weapon to Nate and lined himself up with the door. A single blow from his size eleven boot proved too much as the door buckled.
A second kick and access was achieved. Trevor led the way inside.
Standing in the middle of the room, a tall man with red hair. Behind him, a shorter woman with long, black hair.
“Did Granny send you?”
***
While Pun and Jamiila attended to Prince George and Silvia, the others continued their search for combatants. Satisfied they controlled the compound, Trevor called for the team leaders to report.
“Ag man, we captured six men and four others are dead.” Gerhard rubbed his arm. “I obtained a new scratch, but Pun treated the wound. A few stitches, a couple of pills, and I’m good to go.”
“Sir, we killed five terrorists, including two outside the perimeter wall. We captured seven—they’re trussed up and waiting for collection.” Sergeant Taylor shook his head. “Not much fight in these guys when someone can shoot back. One of my men received a through and through in his calf. Painful, but he’ll survive.”
“Sergeant Davies, what about your team?” Trevor stared at the soft-spoken commando.
“Sir, my team engaged the enemy. Twelve dead—no survivors. One minor injury among my men. A bullet nicked the ear of one. A new bragging point with the ladies.”
Fartaag approached and raised his hand.
Trevor gestured to him.
“No … no Tahliil. He escaped.”
“Sergeants and Gerhard. Well done to your teams.” Trevor glanced around the quiet compound, the occasional moan from an injured person breaking the silence.
“Gather the captives in a shaded area and treat the wounded. Collect all of the weapons and destroy them. Also, check the terrorists’ vehicles. We’ll require extra transport to move everyone.”
“Sir, what about the dead?” Sergeant Davies asked.
Trevor thought for a moment. “If there’s time before we depart, bury them.”
“Yes, sir.”
Back inside the house, Trevor composed a situation report.
To: Topaz
From: Black
Mission completed. Prince George and Silvia Stefani recovered unharmed. Al-Shabaab leader Tahliil missing. Twenty-one terrorists killed, thirteen wounded. Two local captives freed. Three team members received minor injuries.
Request extraction from Shark’s Bay.
***
An hour later, ready to depart for the return trip to their rendezvous point, Trevor surveyed the compound a last time. We were lucky.
He boarded Gerhard’s vehicle, along with Pun, Jamiila, and Fartaag. Before giving the signal to depart, Trevor checked for messages.
To: Black
From: Topaz
Well done to all. Proceed to rendezvous point. Two CH-53E Super Stallion helicopters en route. Send Nakuru back to Mombasa.
Expect unwanted entourage upon landing in Nairobi. Be polite but firm.
Rebel and Blue are to proceed to Seoul to escort multiple packages. Remainder of Bravo return to Headquarters.
“Back to Shark’s Bay, Gerhard.” Trevor yawned. “Our next ride is on the way.”
***
Mindful of the injured, Trevor had the convoy return to Shark’s Bay at a slower pace. Ninety minutes later, they parked along the roadside where their journey to Afgooye began.
The Nakuru remained in position where they left her. The pilot and the guard waved at Trevor and his men as they trudged down the hill, escorting their guests, while the commandos secured the vehicles and prisoners.
After introductions, Prince George and Silvia were assisted onto the boat, so they would remain out of the sun’s rays. The prince drained the last of a water bottle and turned to Trevor. “What’s the plan now, Colonel?”
“Transport will be arriving within an hour. We’ll fly to Nairobi, where members of the Foreign Office will see to you and Silvia. The rest of us will disappear—we have a separate mission to conclude.”
“I see.” Prince George tapped the side of his nose. “No one will hear a word out of me—except, Granny. I hope you haven’t been inconvenienced too much by my wayward excursion.”
“We’re glad your adventure had a happy ending.” Trevor stood. “Excuse me, sir, but I must look after my men and prepare for our ride.”
Prince George stood and shook Trevor’s hand. Silvia stepped forward and gave him a hug and a peck on his cheek.
***
The calm atmosphere along the beach was soon shattered with the arrival of the helicopters. A sling underneath one held a fuel bladder while the other carried a stack of sheet metal.
The lead helicopter descended, releasing the bladder as soon as slack appeared in the cables. The chopper rose as the second one swooped in and dropped its load.
“Colonel Franklin, this is Rescue One.” The pilot’s voice squawked through the radio Trevor held. “Your men must spread the pierced steel planking in two squares before we can land. We’re too heavy and we’d sink to the fuselage in the sand.”
Gunfire!
The driver increased the truck’s speed, the vehicle swaying over several potholes. A few minutes later, the commandeered troop carrier slowed and stopped.
The leader jumped into the back and opened the four barrels. “Nothing to be alarmed about—bandits. A former military vehicle traveling alone at night must be a lucrative target. We’re fine now, but I’ll give you ten minutes to stretch your legs. When you return, you may sit on the bench.”
Wide-eyed, Jung Gi and the boys jumped out of the vehicle and stretched. Soo touched the leader on the arm before joining his family. “How do we address you?”
The man appeared to think about this before chuckling. “Refer to the four of us as the Park Brothers. I am Mr. Park.”
“Thank you, Mr. Park, for what you are doing. You’re risking your lives for us—why?”
Mr. Park gazed at Soo. “Justice. With your connections to Wook, you know many secrets which should be shared with the outside world.”
After the break, Soo and his family returned to the back of the vehicle. They set off again for an unknown destination.
***
Hour after hour passed. With the exception of several short breaks for fruit, water, and a stretch, everything appeared the same. Few vehicles traveled on the road.
At their next stop, Soo checked their surroundings. A hint of dawn appeared on the eastern horizon. South! We’re going south. But where?
Before they boarded, Mr. Park approached. “We must leave this highway and will travel on the back roads. The journey will be rough but hang on and please be patient. Remain in the vehicle until I inform you.” He stared at Soo. “No matter what you hear or what happens, stay hidden. After the road becomes smoother, you must hide in the barrels.”
As predicted, the vehicle found every pothole in the road. We’ll be bruised at this rate. Soo held Jung Gi on one side of him, with one of the boys on the other. The youngest clung to Jung Gi.
After an indeterminable amount of time and several stops, the bumpiness of the back roads ceased and the truck’s speed increased. They clambered back into the barrels, heeding Mr. Park’s instructions.
Hidden in the darkness, no idea where they were, Soo worried. Where are we? Were we right to trust these strangers?
Traffic increased around them. Horns blared and brakes squealed as the cacophony of city sounds increased.
The vehicle stopped. Mr. Park helped Soo and his family out of the barrels. They jumped down and found themselves in a warehouse.
“Ambassador Soo. It’s been a long journey so far. Your travels aren’t over, but you will rest here for a couple of days.”
“Thank you, Mr. Park. Where are we?”
A grin spread across Mr. Park’s face. “May I be the first to welcome you and your family to Seoul.”
Chapter Forty-Four
Shark’s Bay
South of Mogadishu, Somalia
The occasional seagull dove toward the camp by the beach, searching for breakfast. No scraps available, they squawked as they flew higher. The morning light shimmered across the still water, reaching a glistening finish as the waves tugged at the shore.
Jamiila stoked the remnants of last night’s fire, adding the remainder of the charcoal Gerhard had lugged from his vehicle when they arrived. She filled a pot with water from the ocean, dropped in a purification tablet as Alf had instructed her, and set the container on a tripod.
The group woke and packed their gear in readiness to embark on their mission. While Jamiila finished preparing breakfast, the others policed the site. All they needed before setting off was fruit, bread, tea or coffee.
Fifteen minutes later, scattered footprints disappeared as a blustering wind drove sand into them. The vehicles loaded, Gerhard led the four-vehicle convoy along the final leg to Mogadishu.
They passed the damaged refinery and power plant, both on their right. Trevor had switched vehicles with Alf, and now rode with Gerhard and the others. “A lot of superficial damage on both facilities. I suspect they’ll be operational before long.” Trevor glanced out the window.
Fartaag spoke to Jamiila.
“Fartaag says Mogadishu had electrical problems before the attack on the power plant.” Jamiila smiled when Fartaag spoke again. “He said one time an engineer tasked to record temperature readings did an excellent job.”
She laughed at Fartaag’s next words. “But he never informed his supervisor when it went critical. Before he remembered, it blew, sending parts through the roof and the wall, some pieces falling a mile away.”
Everyone laughed.
“Ag, man. I bet he lost his job.”
Trevor clenched his jaw. “I’m surprised security isn’t tighter. With the attacks on the city, I’d expect more military and police presence.”
“You spoke too soon, Trevor.” Gerhard pointed ahead as they approached the airport. “Tanks and armored personnel carriers—they’re waiting for another attack.”
“Fartaag says turn left at the K-7 roundabout. This will take us to Afgooye.”
***
On the outskirts of Mogadishu, Trevor asked Gerhard to pull over. The other vehicles followed and everyone piled out for a stretch.
“Through Jamiila, Fartaag says we’re about twenty-five kilometers from Afgooye. For you Yanks—about fifteen miles.” Trevor gazed at each person in turn. “Time to put our game face on and tackle the enemy. Any questions?”
The group remained quiet, as they prepared to commence their mission.
“Mount up and move out.” Trevor chuckled. I sound more like Nate every day.
Thirty minutes later, the convoy veered left off the primary road and continued along a winding trail. Banana trees hugged both sides of the path, dimming the way ahead.
Squeezed in the back next to Jamiila, Pun continued to swipe his kukri along a sharpening stone. He tested the blade on his arm—a thin bloodline appeared. Satisfied, he put the stone away and returned the kukri to its sheath.
Fartaag spoke to Jamiila. “Trevor, we must stop in about five minutes. Fartaag says we’re about three kilometers away from Tahliil’s compound.”
Trevor slapped a full magazine into his SA-80 assault rifle and checked his belt for his Double Trouble stun gun. Hope we can rescue Prince George and Silvia without bloodshed. But, that’s not our decision.
Gerhard gestured to a faint track leading to the right. “Trevor, suggest we pull off this path and hide the vehicles.”
“Agreed.”
The men and Jamiila dismounted. Trevor held a piece of paper in his hand, a rough sketch of Tahliil’s compound. “Sergeant Taylor, your team has the east perimeter. Sergeant Davies, yours will take the north.”
“Sir.” Both men acknowledged their assignment.
“Gerhard, take Alf, Fergus, and Pun. You’ll cover the south section. This leaves Willie, Nate, and me to hit the west, where the primary entrance is located. Jamiila and Fartaag will stay with my group.”
Stern expressions on their faces, no one uttered a sound. A bird flew off when the commandos charged their weapons.
“Let’s head out. Radio contact if a necessity. Call sign for each team is their respective perimeter.”
Trevor’s team took the lead, followed by Gerhard, Taylor, and Davies. The last team crossed the road and disappeared into the trees.
Snap!
Everyone dropped to the ground. Trevor scanned the terrain ahead. Movement. Armed. Did we surprise a guard?
He signaled for their sniper. Alf squatted next to Trevor.
“Runner ahead. Armed. Track and terminate.”
Alf nodded once and scurried forward. No sound indicated his movement, a single branch swayed in the passing breeze.
Five minutes later, Alf returned. He gave a thumbs-up.
Trevor stood, the others following. When he estimated they were about a kilometer from the compound, he paused, his hand in the air moving in a circle. The team leaders approached.
“We separate now to our respective positions. Key a radio once for north, twice for east, and three times for south when you’re in position. I’ll do four. Thirty seconds after all teams are ready, we go.”
The leaders signaled their men and snaked forward, disappearing among the banana trees.
Trevor led his group to the west side and waited for the others to signal. He surveyed the wall, noting four armed guards standing near the vehicular entrance.
He shifted forward for a better view when he overheard two men talking. A roving patrol?
Trevor pulled his team back. When they were a safe distance away, he talked with Fartaag through Jamiila. “There are more guards than you mentioned. Also, a roving patrol? Any more surprises?”
Fartaag shrugged. “My information was accurate at the time. Someone made changes.”
Trevor shook his head in disgust. Murphy’s law again. Let’s hope there aren’t any more surprises.
They moved back to their original positions, weapons ready.
A single click from the radio.
Two more.
Silence.
Three clicks soon followed.
Trevor keyed his radio four times. Thirty seconds and we begin. He tightened his finger on his launcher, ready for action.
Whoosh!
Trevor fired a single smoke grenade over the wall. The smoke increased as the other teams did the same.
The guards in the towers, in apparent panic, opened fire, long bursts shredding leaves from banana trees. The roving patrol scurried to a gate and forced their way inside, leaving the door ajar.
The more-seasoned guards at the vehicle gate knelt and spread their fire in what appeared to be established shooting lanes. One by one, they toppled over, victims of well-aimed return fire from Willie and Nate.
While gunfire subsided in their section, Trevor realized additional guards must be on the walls in the other areas as the firing increased four-fold.
Smoke and the smell of something burning filled the air. The screams of the dying overwhelmed the sounds of firing.
Whoomph! Whoomph! Whoomph!
The teams are breaching the walls. Time to move. Trevor gave the signal and his team crept toward the open gate.
Once inside the compound and not meeting any resistance, Trevor edged along the wall toward a two-story building, followed by Jamiila and Fartaag. Willie and Nate went the opposite way, checking bodies to ensure no one was faking their death.
Trevor glanced toward a single-story building, its roof a mass of flames. He continued moving past when a bloodcurdling scream came from an opening. Ablaze, a man staggered toward Trevor brandishing a machete.
Blam!
Shot after shot tore into the man. Trevor turned, half expecting Willie or Nate was his savior.
Jamiila stood, her arms by her side, a pistol in her right hand.
Trevor dashed to her side. “I told you to stay back. Are you okay? Have you been hit?”
Jamiila shook her head. “No, he was going to strike you. I had to do something …. I’ve never killed anyone before.” She trembled as she wrapped her arms around herself.
“You did what you had to. Where did the pistol come from?”
“Willie gave it to me.”
Trevor frowned. “Okay, we must move forward. The two-story building is our objective.”
While the commandos and Gerhard’s team cleared the compound, Trevor led his group toward their target.
Willie and Nate rushed up the steps, ready to breach the building. Nate reached from his crouching position and tried the doorknob.
Unlocked.
He nodded at Willie before using his SA-80 to shove the door open. Gunfire erupted from inside. During a pause, Nate hugged the floor and Willie walked high, gaining access to the interior, as Trevor provided rearguard support.
Both fired, catching two Somalis reloading. The guards slumped to the floor, their fighting days over.
Trevor moved toward the stairs, a closed door to his left. He pushed the door open.
A man stood inside, swaying on his feet, a bloody rag around an arm, a weapon in the other but pointed at the floor.
“Asad! Don’t shoot!”
Jamiila rushed to Trevor. “He—he’s my friend.”
Trevor grabbed the man’s arm holding the AK-47 and wrestled it from him. He pulled his stun gun and incapacitated the man.
“You’ve killed him!” Jamiila knelt beside Asad, tears brimming.
“No, Jamiila. I didn’t kill him. You saved his life.” Trevor helped her to stand. “If you hadn’t spoken, I would have shot him. He’ll recover.”
Once again, Willie and Nate took the lead, creeping up the stairs, SA-80s pointed toward the second-floor opening. At the top of the stairs, they split and began clearing rooms.
Trevor, followed by Jamiila and Fartaag, remained on the landing, waiting.
Willie signaled to Trevor, who stepped toward him, keeping close to the wall.
“We’ve cleared the other rooms.” Willie rapped on the door. “This one’s locked.”
“Open it.” Trevor grinned.
Willie handed his weapon to Nate and lined himself up with the door. A single blow from his size eleven boot proved too much as the door buckled.
A second kick and access was achieved. Trevor led the way inside.
Standing in the middle of the room, a tall man with red hair. Behind him, a shorter woman with long, black hair.
“Did Granny send you?”
***
While Pun and Jamiila attended to Prince George and Silvia, the others continued their search for combatants. Satisfied they controlled the compound, Trevor called for the team leaders to report.
“Ag man, we captured six men and four others are dead.” Gerhard rubbed his arm. “I obtained a new scratch, but Pun treated the wound. A few stitches, a couple of pills, and I’m good to go.”
“Sir, we killed five terrorists, including two outside the perimeter wall. We captured seven—they’re trussed up and waiting for collection.” Sergeant Taylor shook his head. “Not much fight in these guys when someone can shoot back. One of my men received a through and through in his calf. Painful, but he’ll survive.”
“Sergeant Davies, what about your team?” Trevor stared at the soft-spoken commando.
“Sir, my team engaged the enemy. Twelve dead—no survivors. One minor injury among my men. A bullet nicked the ear of one. A new bragging point with the ladies.”
Fartaag approached and raised his hand.
Trevor gestured to him.
“No … no Tahliil. He escaped.”
“Sergeants and Gerhard. Well done to your teams.” Trevor glanced around the quiet compound, the occasional moan from an injured person breaking the silence.
“Gather the captives in a shaded area and treat the wounded. Collect all of the weapons and destroy them. Also, check the terrorists’ vehicles. We’ll require extra transport to move everyone.”
“Sir, what about the dead?” Sergeant Davies asked.
Trevor thought for a moment. “If there’s time before we depart, bury them.”
“Yes, sir.”
Back inside the house, Trevor composed a situation report.
To: Topaz
From: Black
Mission completed. Prince George and Silvia Stefani recovered unharmed. Al-Shabaab leader Tahliil missing. Twenty-one terrorists killed, thirteen wounded. Two local captives freed. Three team members received minor injuries.
Request extraction from Shark’s Bay.
***
An hour later, ready to depart for the return trip to their rendezvous point, Trevor surveyed the compound a last time. We were lucky.
He boarded Gerhard’s vehicle, along with Pun, Jamiila, and Fartaag. Before giving the signal to depart, Trevor checked for messages.
To: Black
From: Topaz
Well done to all. Proceed to rendezvous point. Two CH-53E Super Stallion helicopters en route. Send Nakuru back to Mombasa.
Expect unwanted entourage upon landing in Nairobi. Be polite but firm.
Rebel and Blue are to proceed to Seoul to escort multiple packages. Remainder of Bravo return to Headquarters.
“Back to Shark’s Bay, Gerhard.” Trevor yawned. “Our next ride is on the way.”
***
Mindful of the injured, Trevor had the convoy return to Shark’s Bay at a slower pace. Ninety minutes later, they parked along the roadside where their journey to Afgooye began.
The Nakuru remained in position where they left her. The pilot and the guard waved at Trevor and his men as they trudged down the hill, escorting their guests, while the commandos secured the vehicles and prisoners.
After introductions, Prince George and Silvia were assisted onto the boat, so they would remain out of the sun’s rays. The prince drained the last of a water bottle and turned to Trevor. “What’s the plan now, Colonel?”
“Transport will be arriving within an hour. We’ll fly to Nairobi, where members of the Foreign Office will see to you and Silvia. The rest of us will disappear—we have a separate mission to conclude.”
“I see.” Prince George tapped the side of his nose. “No one will hear a word out of me—except, Granny. I hope you haven’t been inconvenienced too much by my wayward excursion.”
“We’re glad your adventure had a happy ending.” Trevor stood. “Excuse me, sir, but I must look after my men and prepare for our ride.”
Prince George stood and shook Trevor’s hand. Silvia stepped forward and gave him a hug and a peck on his cheek.
***
The calm atmosphere along the beach was soon shattered with the arrival of the helicopters. A sling underneath one held a fuel bladder while the other carried a stack of sheet metal.
The lead helicopter descended, releasing the bladder as soon as slack appeared in the cables. The chopper rose as the second one swooped in and dropped its load.
“Colonel Franklin, this is Rescue One.” The pilot’s voice squawked through the radio Trevor held. “Your men must spread the pierced steel planking in two squares before we can land. We’re too heavy and we’d sink to the fuselage in the sand.”
