Echo Six: Black Ops 5 - Strikeforce Syria (26 page)

No answer came to him. No voice spoke. With a heavy heart and a feeling the nightmare was about to get worse, he turned to give the order to get the column moving, and stopped. Before he could utter the command, the shooting started.

The Syrians? Christ, not already. If they come now, it'll be another massacre.

Salmeh – The Fifth Day

He shouted to Brooks, "Admiral, stay here with Rovere and DiMosta and guard these people. You'd better get them back undercover until we check this out. The rest of you, come with me. I don't know what this is, but we need to deal with it before we go anywhere."

They acknowledged, but he was already running. He could hear footsteps behind him, all of them racing to head off this new source of trouble. Any ideas of tactics had gone out the window. They had to get there fast, find whoever was doing the shooting, and head them off before they got any nearer to Salmeh. Roy was running alongside him.

 
"Boss, any idea what’s going on?"

"None, but whoever is out there, we need to keep them away from the village."

"Roger that, but there's something odd about this. Who are they shooting at? I mean; a gun battle needs two sides. You reckon it could be the Free Syrian Army on the loose, and they’ve met up with those Third Corps troops?"

"I guess we'll find out when we crest the next dune. I estimate they'll be right in front of us."

"I reckon. Jackson brought along one of those Israeli machine guns, so we're not short on firepower."

Talley smiled. "It depends on what we run into."

They pounded across the sand in a lung-searing race to close with the enemy and head them off before they reached Salmeh and started a massacre. The steep face of the dune was treacherous, soft shifting sand making it all but impossible to climb, but they slogged upward and stopped just short of the crest. When they crawled forward, they could see the empty desert stretching away in front of them, burning under the hot sun.

"Where the hell are they?"

"There!" Talley pointed at two dark shapes lying in the sand, bodies wearing the uniform of the Syrian Army.

But who killed them?

"We need to get down there and take a look around. Jackson, stay here with the rest of the men, and keep that machine gun ready. There’s something funny here. It could be a trap."

"Copy that," Drew nodded.

Talley and Reynolds started down the other face of the dune, sliding down the last few meters on the soft, slippery surface. They walked toward the two bodies, and all of a sudden the sand erupted as two men catapulted from shallow clefts in the sand. Two men armed with assault rifles, aimed, and ready to fire. He almost pulled the trigger of his Galil carbine, stopping a split second before the first bullet sped on its way. The men, who'd appeared in front of them like genies from a bottle, were not hostiles but his men, Guy Welland and Jesse Whitefeather. He froze for a moment, refusing to believe the evidence of his eyes. Then all four men ran forward and embraced each other.

"Guy! Jesse! What the fuck? We thought you were dead. How did you get away?"

The former SAS man explained how they'd led the Syrians away until they reached a hollow in a low range of hills where they could hide the vehicle. They set out on foot to make a wide sweep back toward Salmeh. Just before they reached the village, they ran into two Syrian soldiers hiding behind some rocks.

"They were rotten shots," Guy smiled. "They opened fire and missed us by a mile. As soon as we knew there were only two of them, we closed the distance and finished them."

"It's fantastic to see you both here, to see you alive. God only knows we need you. We’ll get back to the village. There's a lot to talk about, and this changes everything for the people here. The men you killed had escaped from our ambush. They could have blown the village to the military."

Before they left, he gave orders for Buchmann and Garcia to stay behind and bury the bodies of the dead soldiers, leaving no trace they'd ever been there. They retraced their steps to Salmeh and located Admiral Brooks who was with Rabbi Gold and Mahmoud Khalil. His first order of business was to rescind the order to evacuate.

"Those two soldiers, they're both dead. Your village is safe, at least for now, and the two men who I thought dead have returned."

Brooks nodded, his face showing his relief. "Things are looking up. If these people had tried to cross the desert, they'd have needed to carry plenty of shovels to bury the ones who didn't make it."

Gold was still incredulous. "You really mean this? It is safe to stay?"

"Yeah, it's safe," the Admiral assured him.

Guy and Jesse had been greeting their comrades, and they came over to join Talley and Brooks. They were a pitiable sight. After their long flight across the parched sands, their skin was dry and leathery, the effects of dehydration. Both men looked as if they hadn't eaten or drunk in the past twenty-four hours. And if things panned out the way he intended, they’d need to be able to fight damn hard, which meant they’d have to recover fast. He turned to them.

"You both look like you're all in. You need food and drink, and a few hours rest. Go talk to Rovere. He’ll find somewhere for you to bed down.”

“We don’t need it,” Guy insisted. “We…”

“It’s an order, Sergeant. Believe me, it’s not for your benefit. We’ll be back in action soon, and if you’re not a hundred percent, the Syrians will eat you up. Before you go, there's something you need to know. We found your brother, Benjamin Rothstein."

"You found him! That's great news." And then he saw Talley's expression. "What? Is there a problem, was he badly hurt?"

"It's complicated."

He went on to explain how Rothstein had been helping the Syrians. Guy went pale. "I don't believe it. Ben! He’s a fanatical Zionist. He'd do anything for Israel."

"I'm sorry. It seems his loyalty couldn't survive him getting badly into debt."

"He did it for money! The bastard, I'll strangle the fucker."

Talley put a hand on his arm. "You won't strangle anyone, Sergeant Welland. Despite what he's done, we're going to need Rothstein for the next stage of this operation. Stay away from him, and that's an order."

Guy shook with anger for a time but soon calmed himself. "When it's over…"

"Yeah, when it's over, you can deal with him. But in the meantime, stay away. Clear?"

"Copy that, Boss." He smiled as he said it, but the smile was forced. Behind the smile there was a killing face. If Benjamin Rothstein wanted to stay alive, he'd do best to keep well away from his stepbrother.

"Now get out of here, and get some rest."

He stalked off, and Talley looked at Brooks. "You think he'll stay away from him?"

"He'll put the operation first, he's a good man and he'll calm down. Afterwards, he'll go after him. It must be a bitter blow, knowing a member of your family is a traitor."

Talley felt relieved, he'd been concerned about a confrontation ever since Guy reappeared. He left Brooks and went to look for Nava. He found her giving water to some of the folks who'd been waiting out in the sun, preparing to leave. She nodded a greeting and then waved him over to the hut where Ali was still recovering. He followed her inside, and before she got any ideas, he explained what was needed.

"Nava, I know you're busy, but my men need food and drink. They have to recover as quickly as possible. You know we have an operation planned for tonight."

Her eyes widened. "You're going into the Golan?"

"It’s why we came here. You know how important it is we complete our mission, important to you, to Israel, to the civilized world. We don't have a choice."

"But you don't know anything about this place, the basement of the mosque where they store the shells. The layout, the number of troops guarding it, you're walking into a death trap. Why not leave it for the Air Force to deal with?"

He shook his head tiredly. "We've already been over that. The place is deep underground, so there are no guarantees a missile strike could take it out. We have to do it ourselves. There's no other way."

Ali raised his head to speak. Talley hadn't known he was awake, let alone listening.

"Are you talking about Al Jasan, in the Golan?"

Talley jerked his head around. "Maybe. What do you know about it?"

"My unit was assigned to carry shells from the trucks to a room deep underground.”

“What kind of shells?”

He shrugged. “I’ve no idea. It's some kind of armory for Third Corps operations in the Golan, heavily reinforced and deep underground. They are always laughing about it. That the Israelis will be too frightened to attack a mosque, and so the weapons that will destroy them are kept safe, ready for the attack on Israel."

"Could you us draw a diagram of this place?"

"I can do better. If you can get me there, I can show you the way in."

Nava was staring at him with an angry expression. It was as if she dared him to take the wounded boy on an operation.

She needn't worry. It's not going to happen.

"That's very brave of you, Ali, but this is what my men are trained for. If you can just draw a map, it'll be enough."

"I will go with you," he said, his face set in a determined expression.

"Ali!" Nava exclaimed. "You’re a patient here, my patient. I won't let you leave this place until you are well, and when you do leave, it won’t be to go on a suicide mission!"

The young boy looked at Talley. "A suicide mission? Is that true?"

He grimaced. "It's not a suicide mission, in the sense of the Islamic lunatics who strap bombs to their bodies and blow themselves up, but it's extremely dangerous, that much is true. Our chances of getting out alive are not good."

The boy nodded, his face set firm. "In that case, you’ll need me to help you find your way into that place."

He argued, and Nava grew red in the face, shouting at both of them to stop being so stupid. But the boy wouldn't be swayed, even when Rabbi Gold entered the hut and tried to talk him out of it. Finally, Nava played her last card.

"There’s no point in discussing this. He can barely walk, and you can't carry him all the way to Al Jasan."

At that moment, Drew Jackson entered the hut. "We pulled that Russian jeep out and started the engine. There's plenty of gas, so with any luck it'll get us most of the way. We’re checking it over, getting it ready to go."

There was total silence inside the hut. Then Talley nodded.

"That's good news. I'll be out in a few moments."

Jackson left, and Talley tried to make Nava understand.

"I don't want this anymore than you do, but you know what's at stake. If I had a choice, I'd…"

She glared back. "What, you wouldn't take a severely wounded man into battle? That's noble of you, Abe. Really humane."

He withered under her sneers. "I'm sorry."

There was nothing left to say, and he exited the hut to make ready to leave. Drew and Julio were working on the vehicle. Mahmoud had found an old tire pump, and Buchmann started pumping. Brooks who was chatting with Rovere, and he told them about Ali.

"Is he up to it?”

 
"With help, just about. With a guide to lead us in, wearing a Syrian uniform and driving a Syrian jeep, we have a chance, a damn good chance. I reckon our luck has changed."

Rovere turned and stared at the Admiral. "Good luck is often with the man who doesn't include it in his plans."

"Another of your damn fool quotations, Lieutenant Rovere," Brooks commented. "Shakespeare again?"

"Who else, Sir? Our work is so serious I wouldn't consider a quote from any other source."

"That’s a shame," Brooks grunted, walking away.

Talley grinned at the Italian’s crestfallen expression. The next task would really piss him off.

"Domenico, we have a job to do before we leave. I want you to round up every able-bodied man and woman to start clearing the wreckage of the truck. They'll need to find somewhere they can dig a hole and bury the scrap metal. You can get a couple of our men to help out."

"It'll be damned hard work in this heat," the Italian objected.

"It'll be a damn sight harder if the Syrians come and find any trace of that truck. They'll obliterate this place and everyone in it."

"I take your point. I'll get them moving."

"And get some of those Syrian uniforms stripped from the bodies. We’re going to need them. Weapons as well, we're about to join the Third Corps of the Syrian Army."

Rovere snapped a mocking salute and went away to get them started. Talley returned to the hut. He had a lot to discuss with Ali. When he entered, the kid was on his feet, taking a precarious step.”

“Hey, should you be doing that?”

The kid turned his face to him, flushed with perspiration but wearing a look of triumph.

“I managed several steps before you came in. I can do this. Look…”

He took another step and crumpled. Talley rushed forward and helped him to the bed. “You need to save your strength. We’ll carry you.”

“I will be fine, truly. I just need some practice steps. I can manage.”

Talley nodded. “Yeah, right, but I’d take it real slow. Ali, tell me about this place, Al Jasan. How many defenders did you see around the village, and the number of checkpoints between Aleppo and the Golan?"