SEAL Team Bravo: Black Ops IV (32 page)

“Lt, watch yourself, the Minister has legged it. He may come up behind you.”

“Copy that,” Boswell replied. “If he tries to get out of the tunnels, Brad and Vince will nail his ass. Is anyone down?”

A chorus of negatives came over the commo. Two men were missing.

“Jack? Come in, Whitman, where are you? Nixon, what’s the deal? Were you injured in that blast? Over.”

There was only silence.

“All of you, keep your eyes skinned for any sign of Jack or Richard. They may be hurt. We’ll have to check out what happened to them on the way back. There’s no time now. The enemy will have heard that stun grenade explode, so let’s nail the big bad bastard before he hightails it. And if anyone sees that fucking Pakistani Minister, Muhammad, give him a heavy caliber present from me. Let’s move, people.”

There was no need to look further for one of the missing men. They came across the body of Nixon. Nolan bent down to examine him, and his heart missed a beat. The Seal’s throat had been cut!

How the hell did anyone manage to catch him off guard?
The Minister, we searched him, and he didn’t possess a knife. Surely it wasn’t him!
 
Besides, he didn’t seem the physical type to take down a Navy Seal. It’s highly unlikely it was him, but if not, who killed him
?

He made a note to take Nixon’s body out when they left, and he wondered about Whitman.

Will we be carrying his body away? Has he been taken the same way, from behind, maybe by the same guy who threw the grenade? And if so, where is he, has he run out of the tunnel system? In which case Boswell was right, Brad and Vince will stop him. God only knows what other traps this bunker system has in store for us.

But there was no time to check around further. There were no signs of any further opposition in the bunker system, and they had to react fast before the principal target ran. Time was ‘a wasting’, as the saying went. Will led the way and threw open the trapdoor that led upward. They surged up into the house, and Nolan was struck by the importance of such a historic occasion. The second battle of the Abbottabad compound was about to begin, the battle for the leadership of America and the World’s number one enemy. He climbed out of the trapdoor, pulling Mariko up behind him. She was still shaky after the blast of the stun grenade. He ducked as a burst of gunfire whistled overhead, dragging her away from the trapdoor to take shelter in the stairwell. It was protected by the concrete staircase. In front of it, there were heavy iron gates guarding the route to the upper floors to prevent unwelcome visitors. They’d been thrown open, and the unwelcome visitors had arrived.

“That gunfire, it came from upstairs,” Mariko murmured to him. “It can only mean he’s still here. He’s trapped.”

“Let’s hope so.”

Will’s squad hurtled up the stairs, firing on the run. They heard a scream, and a body tumbled down from the next floor. The man, a native, lay at an unnatural angle on the floor. He was still wearing a chest rack for his spare clips and a canvas pistol holster. The fall had broken his neck, but his body was also riddled with wounds, so he was probably dead before he fell. The commo was alive with reports. Boswell’s squad ran from room to room, searching for their targets, shouting ‘clear!’ above the increasing din of gunfire from the defenders as the firefight intensified. And then the outside door of the residence was flung open, and four armed men dashed inside. Nolan called Boswell, keeping his voice to a low murmur.

“Lt, we got trouble. Four hostiles just came in the main door, and they’re right behind you.”

A burst of firing came from one of the first floor rooms, and Boswell’s voice came back to him, almost drowned by the sounds of the shots. The enemy was fighting back hard.

“Copy that, Chief. We have our own problems. The place is full of guards. We’ve found a dozen or more of them, and they’re everywhere. Can you hold those shooters who came in the front door? We need time to settle this bunch in here.”

“Understood, I’ll take care of it.”

They hadn’t seen him or Mariko as yet. They’d slowed down and were creeping further inside the house, their assault rifles held ready to fire.

“You got that pistol of yours ready?” he whispered to Mariko. “I’ll try and knock them all down, but if any get past me, you’ll have to deal with them.”

She nodded nervously. “I’m ready.”

He knelt unseen in the shadows of the stairwell and leveled the MP7 as they crept nearer. He sighted on the first man, squeezed the trigger, and was already shifting his aim as they started to react. The second man went down, but the last two managed to get off a burst of fire, forcing him back into cover. He felt a hammer blow as one of the 7.62mm rounds impacted on his vest, but he ducked back out and fired off the last bullets in his clip. He saw another of the men go down. The HK MP7 clicked on empty, and he ripped out a spare mag. As he was ramming it into the weapon, he looked up. The fourth man was only two meters away and coming toward him. He smiled as he saw Nolan reloading, ignoring the blue-burqa clad woman as he aimed straight at the Seal’s head. Nolan tensed, ready to throw himself to one side, as the man stepped nearer to be certain of the shot. Mariko was a woman, anonymous inside the burqa and of no consequence. Until her hand emerged from the voluminous folds of material, clutching the Baby Glock. She fired twice. The first bullet hit the guy in the chest, and he staggered but still kept hold of his rifle. The second bullet impacted in the center of his face, shattering his nose as it drilled forward and up into the brain. He crashed to the floor. Nolan ran out, kicked his rifle away from the body, just in case, and sped out toward the main door. It was slightly ajar, and when he peered out, he saw a band of fighters rushing to the house.

“Bravo One, this is Two. More hostiles inbound. I count at least ten, probably more on the way.”

“Copy that. Try and hold them off. We’re still heavily engaged here.”

“I’m on it, Lt.”

Where the hell are they all coming from?
They’re like lice pouring out of the woodwork. We’ll just have to kill them like lice, but these lice are armed with assault rifles. The odds are not looking good.

 
He keyed his mic. “Will, how are things going up there?”

The big black PO1 sounded hassled, maybe for the first time since Nolan had been working with him.

“We got a real fight on our hands, Chief. The target is barricaded into some kind of a safe room. They’re defending it like crazy. As soon as we get through to it, I’ll get Zeke to blow the door, but it’ll take time.”

“We’ll come up and lend a hand, Will,” Boswell informed him. “We’re pretty much clear down here.”

“Make it as fast as you can. They’re coming in from everywhere.”

“We’re on the way. They’re like a bunch of mad dogs, these guys.”

Nolan listened to the exchange. It was true. They were fighting fanatically. It made him think of what he knew about the end of World War Two, when Hitler’s fanatic SS legions had fought almost to the last man.

Why do these men fight to defend bloodthirsty, crazed and tyrannical despots? Despots who can turn a nation into a heap of rubble and misery, in no time at all. No one knows, but there’s only one way to deal with mad dogs. Put them down
.

“Copy that.”

He peered out of the door again. The hostiles were nearer, only a few meters away. He stepped out, emptied the MP7 into the group, and stepped back inside the heavy oak doors, just as the return fire chewed chunks of wood from the timber. He rammed a fresh clip in the HK and handed it to Mariko.

“Time to get out of that fancy dress. We’re going to need every gun we’ve got. And then some.”

She nodded quickly and began to remove the burqa. Underneath, she was wearing Multicam gear like the rest of them. But she had no vest, no ballistic plates, and no half helmet.

Shit!

Nolan resolved to do everything in his power to keep her safe. He took his Mk 11 off his back and found a tiny window, more of an open vent that overlooked the front of the house. It was a perfect firing position, and he leveled the weapon though the makeshift firing loop and opened fire on the fighters milling outside. The suppressed gunfire took them by surprise, and he knocked down four of the hostiles before they realized what was happening and rushed for cover. He could see yet more of them coming into the compound, and it hit him that they’d vastly underestimated the numbers they’d face. Once more, intelligence had proved wrong, and men’s lives would likely be lost as a result. Assault rifles blazed away in front of him, and bullets hammered at the house. Some shots came through the window he’d been firing from, and he was forced to pull back inside. He looked around for Mariko and saw she was right behind him. He opened his mouth to speak to her, but several AKs fired from somewhere inside the house, and the building echoed to the sounds of gunfire and screams. He could hear the thuds of the Seals’ suppressed weapons as they fired repeatedly, and the screams of the defenders as the murderous barrage of fire cut them down in droves.

But it’s close, too close. We haven’t killed Riyad bin Laden, and the enemy is still arriving, and in even greater numbers
.

“Mariko, we’re going to need more time to get this bastard, and those shooters outside are pouring in. We need help. I’ll ask Zeke to bring the satcom. I want you to call for air support.”

She nodded as he called their comms man, Zeke Murray.

“This is Bravo Two. Zeke, can you make it to the first floor hallway. We’re in the stairwell, and I need the radio.”

A loud explosion shook the building, and chunks of plaster rained down on them. Zeke’s voice replied, “I’m pretty close to you, in the room next to the kitchen. One of our guys just tossed a grenade into the next room and cleared out the opposition. There’s a door opens onto the hallway. I’m coming through now.”

“Copy that.”

The door close to them opened cautiously. “This is Zeke, I’m coming out!”

“I’ve got you, go ahead.”

Zeke came slowly through the door, and Nolan relaxed. It wasn’t always possible to guess when the enemy might try something inventive and pretend to be a friend. Zeke handed over the encrypted satcom that would connect them with Jacks and Weathers at Jalalabad JSOC headquarters.

“Anything I can do?”

“Just kill as many of the bastards as you can. We’re calling in air support. We can’t do the job with so many of the bastards queuing up to take potshots at us.”

He grinned. “Good plan. I’ll get back to it.”

He turned and went back through the door he’d just emerged from, diving to one side as he entered. There was a renewed burst of suppressed firing, and an agonized scream. Another hostile had gone down.

“Mariko, get on that radio. We need support, and we need it now! They’ll have to send in something to target those hostiles and clear the ground outside to stop any more of them coming at us. We’ll also need a watch on the tunnel exit. They may try to stage a blocking action there.”

She nodded. “Understood, I’ll get onto it right away. Kyle, I could instruct them to target the missile launchers inside the compound, and they could send the helo right in here and take us off the roof. No need to go back through the tunnel.”

He thought for a few seconds. “Yeah, get through to them, and see what they can do. An exfil from here would be sweet. Try ‘em.”

She made the connection with Jalalabad. Nolan looked away and peered through the tiny window overlooking the courtyard as an explosion sounded from above, from somewhere up on the roof. He was in time to see a body crash down to the ground from the roof, a robed body.

What the hell?

“This is Bravo Two, what’s going on up on the roof?”

Vince’s voice came back to him. “We just got out here, Chief, Dave Eisner and me. There were a couple of hostiles on the rooftop, but Dave lobbed a grenade, and it took them out, blew one of them clean over the top. We’re setting up a position to cover the ground around the house, just give us a moment.”

“Copy that. Outstanding, Vince. Those hostiles have to be stopped before they can counterattack the main house. There are too many of the bastards.”

“We’re on it.”

As he watched, the fighters in the courtyard started to fall to the hail of fire from above. There was little cover from the two men; one a sniper perched so high he could overlook the entire compound. The enemy fighters fell. One man was thrown backward to sprawl in a heap of bloody rags and broken flesh, then another, and another. Dave fired a series of short burst with his HK416, reloaded, and then emptied a clip on full auto that decimated another group of fighters who were running for cover from the devastating sniper fire. Boswell’s urgent shout came over the commo.