SEAL Team Bravo: Black Ops IV (27 page)

He shook his head. “No! No way, that is the most cockamamie plan I’ve ever heard. Anything could go wrong, and you’d be going in totally unprepared. There has to be another way.” He smiled at Mariko. “But thanks for the offer, Captain. I’m going to talk to Randall Weathers, and see if he has any better ideas than using women in burqas. Lieutenant Boswell, come with me. We’ll leave these two and go find the Colonel. Chief, I’ll see you in the morning. I assume you’ll be back on duty then?”

Nolan nodded. “I will, yes, Sir.”

“Good. Captain Noguchi, nice meeting you.”

They saluted, and the two men left. Mariko looked at Nolan.

“Was it bad, that dust up in the town?”

He nodded. “Bad enough. We got the Platoon out in one piece, but we lost Danial, so overall it was a bust.”

She grimaced. “I’m so sorry. He came a long way to get away from those people, and they got him in the end. It looks like the operation may be over, at least for the time being.”

“You’re right, they did get him, but I still like your idea. I reckon it could be done. You and I could go in together, dressed and disguised as Pakis. Well, you wouldn’t have any problems, not in a burqa, so I guess those stupid garments do have a use.” He smiled. “But I could do a better job of the disguise, make it look more convincing, not such a rush job this time. With your knowledge of the language, and me to back you up, we could get in, locate the son and bring in Bravo Platoon. We’d be in and out before anyone knew what was going on.”

“Except for one small problem. Jacks laughed it off.”

He swung his legs out of bed. “The hell with Jacks. I’m getting out of here now. I’ll go and see the Admiral and make him see sense.”

“Kyle! You’re supposed to be staying in overnight. You could die if you check yourself out and suffer a blood clot, or something bad.”

He searched in the locker for his uniform, started to remove the hospital nightshirt, and began pulling on his pants. Partially dressed, he felt better already. He turned to face her.

“Mariko, I can tell you someone’s going to die, but it isn’t going to be me. There’s one big, bad, bearded bastard out there in Abbottabad and I’m going to nail his ass. Help me locate my gear. I need my shoes and jacket. They must be around here somewhere.”

She grinned and gave him a mocking salute. “Yes, Sir!” She found what he needed in a closet on the other side of the room.

“I’ll come with you to find the Admiral. I imagine Colonel Weathers will be with him, and I do have some influence with him.”

He nodded, finished dressing, and moved to the door to vacate the hospital room when the nurse returned, with an expression of anger.

“You can’t leave the hospital, Chief Nolan. Not until tomorrow at the earliest. You’ve had a nasty concussion. You’ll kill yourself it you’re not careful! Get back into bed and finish your treatment.”

“Sorry, Nurse, I do have to go. Tell you what, I’ll come back here when I’m done.”

“And how long will that be?”

He grinned at her. “Ask the enemy, Ma’am. They don’t keep me informed.”

They were told to wait outside Admiral Jacks’ office. Inside, they could hear the sounds of a heated argument raging. It was obvious Jacks and Weathers weren’t in agreement about something. After a half-hour, the door opened, and Jacks’ aide beckoned for them to enter. The Admiral was sitting behind a desk, Weathers stood across from him, his hands on the battered military issue desk, leaning toward the Admiral almost as if to menace him.

“Captain Walker and Chief Nolan, Sir.”

They came to attention, and Jacks nodded. “At ease. What is it? I’m busy right now.”

Mariko led off. “Sir, about getting in to Abbottabad. We think it’s entirely feasible to do it the way I suggested.” She used a ploy that was guaranteed to get his sympathy and support. “It’s a classic Navy Seal operation, Sir. A couple of operatives go in undercover to gather intel, and then the assault team comes in to finish the job. It has a great chance of success.”

“And a great chance of failure,” he grumbled. “Colonel Weathers has been trying to convince me it would work as well, or should I say General Weathers? You both know his real rank and department. The problem is I have to deal with the fallout, political fallout from Pakistan if they find out what we’re up to, and a lot of service flak from the Pentagon if they think I’m responsible for mounting a rogue operation.”

Nolan edged nearer. “What would be the fallout if a born-again bin Laden were to appear? And we’d done nothing about it, even when we had a chance to try.”

“Exactly what I’ve been saying,” Weathers agreed. “We have to give it our best shot.”

“And you’ll take the hit when the shit flies, Randall? Is that what you’re saying?”

Weathers grinned. “We’re all in trouble if it doesn’t work, Drew. But a lot less trouble than if we don’t even make the attempt.”

Jacks nodded thoughtfully. Then he smiled. “You’re right, I guess. I just needed to be persuaded a little more.” He looked at Nolan. “Okay, so what exactly do you propose? What’s the plan?”

“We go in tomorrow, into Abbottabad by public transport, all innocent and above board. Captain Noguchi and me will be disguised as Pakis, and as soon as we get there, we find Danial’s son. Bravo Platoon makes a night drop to an LZ outside of Abbottabad, and they lie up ready for us to make contact. We’ll pick them up, and the son will be able to show us the start of the main tunnel system, which I understand is just outside the town. We go inside. Danial told me it goes right underneath the bin Laden compound. We come up inside the compound, locate this Riyad and take him out. Exfil along the same route. We obviously can’t have helos flying low over the town to pick us up. They can land well outside the town, and we’ll meet them somewhere quiet.”

Jacks nodded thoughtfully. “A couple of points you may not have thought of. First, Bravo’s LZ will have to be well outside of the town. You’ll need transport to collect them and get them to wherever this tunnel system starts.”

“That’d be no problem, Sir. Captain Noguchi and I could drive over from J-Bad. In fact, we could take a jingle truck and just blend in with the locals.”

“A what?” Weathers interjected.

“Jingle truck, Sir. It’s those colorfully decorated trucks. They use them all over Pakistan and Afghanistan. The customized trucks and buses you see everywhere, with chains and stuff hanging down from them, it jingles. They’re kind of like psychedelic painted hippy trucks.”

Weathers nodded. “Yeah, I know what you mean. One of those would sure blend in.”

“I hate to put problems in your way,” Jacks interrupted. “But have you considered that the Pakis won’t take too kindly to one of our helos overflying Waziristan again? Not after Neptune Spear. We’d need something big, like a CH-47 Chinook to bring out the personnel, and it’d be at risk from any Paki fighter jock that decides to take an interest. They’re not very forgiving over there these days. It’s likely to be a hot extraction. In fact, I’d bet my paycheck on it. They’re not going to let you just stroll out of there.”

They were silent for a few moments. Then Mariko spoke. “The helo would need a fighter escort, Sir. A couple of F/A18s to provide an overhead air defense. It’s the only way.”

He raised his eyes to the roof. “Jesus Christ, you’re not serious! The Pakis would go ballistic if we sent our fighters. Christ, a combat air patrol to provide cover for a returning SpecOps mission! They’ll have kittens.”

“Fuck ‘em, Drew,” Weathers snapped. “If they’re that serious about fighting terror, they should go in and terminate this bastard once and for all, and dynamite his compound. Not leave it up to us every fucking time. No, they always leave the dirty work for us to take care of. Well all right, if that’s the case, let’s not disappoint them. We’ll do what needs to be done, and fuck the consequences.”

They all stared at him. His emotive outburst and strong language hinted at the huge frustration he must have felt at being constantly blocked from doing what was needed to win this war.

Jacks broke the shocked silence. “Randall, I agree with you.” He grinned, “I wouldn’t put it quite like that to our masters in the Pentagon, but whatever. I’ll lend my support to the fighters if you’ll clear it with the Department of the Navy, just so our asses are covered.”

Weathers nodded. “It’s a deal. Nothing on paper, of course, you know the way the game’s played. I’ll arrange for my people in Jalalabad to buy a jingle truck from someone who needs a quick sale.” He looked at Nolan. “Anything else you need?”

“A good makeup artist. I need to look like a local, the whole works. Clothing, skin color, beard, you name it.”

“What about your eye color? Not many Pakistanis with blue eyes.”

“I’ll wear sunglasses, that should do it.”

Weathers nodded. “That’ll work in the daytime. You’d better pray no one sees you after dark.”

“I’ll keep ‘em on. The right kind of lenses will allow me to see out, but they won’t be able to see my eyes.”

Jacks looked worried. “You don’t want colored contact lenses? I’m sure our people could organize it.”

“I’ll be fine, Sir. If it comes to a fight, I can take off sunglasses fast. Contacts could be a problem.”

“In that case, there’s nothing more to be said. I’ll fix it all up for you. The mission is a go. I’ll talk to Lieutenant Boswell in and sort out the arrangements for infil, and we’ll need to pinpoint the LZ.” He picked up the phone and shouted for someone to tell Lieutenant Boswell to get his ass in right away.

“I’d imagine a HAHO drop from a long ways out would fit the bill,” he continued. “We’ll need to make sure the LZ is somewhere real quiet, but not too far out. You don’t need to be driving fifty klicks to locate the Platoon. You’ll have to sync with Boswell, so you’ll know where to pick them up. I’d suggest a satellite phone to keep in contact while you’re driving over there. I’ll have them bring in your commo gear with the rest of your equipment when you meet up with them. Or maybe we can stow it in the truck if there’s a suitable secret compartment. The sixty-four dollar question, Chief, is do you think you can find this kid? And if you do, will he definitely help us? Right now, there are too many maybes.”

Nolan though for a few moments, of Danial Masih, of everything he’d told him, but he didn’t know the son’s name, only the family name, Masih. Didn’t know where he lived, only that his father had worked for the water company in the town.

What if the son also works for the water company? It is possible. How can we find out? Go to the admin office and hold them at gunpoint while Mariko demands to know his address? Yeah, that’s exactly what we’ll do.

He stared at Admiral Jacks.

“Yes, Sir. We can find him, and I know he’ll help us.”

Jacks nodded. “Good enough. I’ll get onto my people in J-Bad. They can run down one of these crazy jingle trucks for you. I’ll get them to bring it in and give it the once over to make sure it’s one hundred percent mechanically fit before you leave. I want…”

“No, Sir,” Nolan interrupted. “Just get the truck and park it up somewhere. I don’t want it anywhere near an American base.”

“If that’s what you want, I’ll tell them. It makes sense, I know, but if you break down halfway there,” he shrugged. “The whole mission goes down the toilet.”

“In that case, make sure they pay for a damn good truck that won’t break down. And I’ll need to carry a cargo of goods to make it look good. Machinery parts would be fine. Some old military surplus stuff that our people don’t want, and the Pakis would likely want to buy. I’ll need paperwork too, and money for bribes.”

“Consider it done. What about weapons?”

“I’ll carry my Sig-Sauer under my coat, and I could do with something heavier concealed in the truck. Yeah, an MP7 would be ideal, with a half-dozen spare clips. And my sniper rifle, the Mk 11, it could come in useful if we get into a scrap. But the weapons will need to be well hidden.”

“Okay, I’ll ask them to locate a friendly workshop that can weld up a couple of hidden lockers underneath the chassis. That should do it, together with a few big bribes. What about you, Captain? What will you need?”

“I have a small pistol I can carry underneath my burqa, Sir. It’s a Glock 26, the Baby Glock, ideal for a concealed carry. The armorers fitted it with a suppressor which makes it a little more bulky, but it’ll do the job without making too much of a fuss.”

He nodded. Someone knocked on the door and opened it. Lieutenant Boswell walked in and saluted.

“At ease, Lieutenant. Here’s the deal. The Abbottabad mission is a go. We’re just going over the details right now.”