Direct Action - 03 (27 page)

“Holy shit.”

“Oh, yeah man. I was looking at some serious fucking jail time for breaking and entering as well as destruction of government property. I denied everything of course and lawyered up but they had my boots with Mars dust on the soles. I was fucked. My lawyer made a big stink to them about me being a war veteran and eventually NASA let me go but completely blackballed me. My name is shit with any major defense company in the United States. They even fucked me from taking security jobs in the UK.”

“That is the most bad ass war story I've ever heard,” Deckard deadpanned.

“I'm not sure. Mortaring a CIA Officer is pretty bad ass. But anyhow, that is how we both ended up with this crew I guess. We're both damaged goods.”

“I don't see any NASA or CIA pussies on this op, do you?”

“Good point,” Ramon agreed.

20

Wearing black
kafiyah
head wraps, the gunmen stormed the Army detention center while firing their AR-15 and AK-47 rifles in all directions.

“
Allah Akbar! Allah Akbar!
” one screamed.

The two gate guards went down under a hail of gunfire. Another two Egyptian soldiers were shot dead on the front steps of the compound. Once inside, the gunmen blasted a lieutenant sitting behind a desk and headed for the stairs. An Egyptian soldier managed to pull his pistol free from his holster and fire several panicked shots over the heads of the attacking Islamic militants. The return fire splattered him against the wall.

By now shouts were heard through the Army facility as soldiers began to panic. They were under attack and no one was even remotely prepared for it.

“
Allah Akbar!
”

The prisoners heard the calls from inside their cells and cheered the attackers on. Taking the stairs three at a time the four gunmen reached the second floor where the prison cells were located. The soldier on guard duty tried to make a break for it and took off running down the hall until a burst of 7.62x39 caught up with him.

One of the gunmen found the keys on the corpse's belt and used them to open the rusty barred door that led into the cell block.

“
Allah Akbar!
” the gunmen screamed in unison.

“
Allah Akbar!
” the prisoners repeated. The prison was packed with Muslim Brotherhood members who had been rounded up by security forces and each cell was packed with nearly a dozen of the Islamic fundamentalists. They had been arrested for protesting, terrorism, and other acts of sedition, both real and imagined.

They lunged with outstretched arms from between the cell bars, the wild look of fanaticism in their eyes. Many had rough spots on their foreheads, a badge of honor for a member of the brotherhood. It came from prostrating themselves during their daily prayers.

“
Amriki? Amriki?
” the gunmen asked.

“
Nam,
” the prisoners answered, pointing down towards the end of the cell block. American scum.

The gunmen swept down to the cell that the Brothers pointed to. Huddled in the corner were the three American college students, all of them on the verge of pissing their pants. One looked to weigh ninety pounds and wore glasses. That was Luke Thomas, 22. The goofy kid wearing a t-shirt with the word “singularity” was Adam Kauffmen, 19. The third was wearing his gay rights t-shirt, as if anyone in Egypt gave a shit about that issue. He was Aaron Helms, 20. Helms was the priority because his dad was somebody back in the world. Their contract covered all three, but they could kank the other two losers and dump them if shit got really tight.

The American students cringed in the corner of the cell as one of the gunmen stepped forward. He peered through the bars, squinting behind his black head wrap. He wore a white
dishdasha
and held an AK-47 at port arms. Leveling the Russian rifle, the gunmen blasted the padlock off the door and swung it open. Two other gunmen rushed in and secured the college students, grabbing them by the collars of their shirt and by their hair to drag them out into the corridor.

Then the gunmen began shooting the locks off the other cells.

“
Allllaaahh Akbbbbaaaaarrr
!”

The prison cell doors flew open and the Muslim Brotherhood members burst out into the hall screaming with their arms up in the air. They cheered as the gunmen dragged the infidels down the stairs and outside.

Outside in the courtyard, a crowd had begun to gather. The soldiers had long since disappeared, many of them dropping their rifles and beating feet as the already agitated public converged on the Army building. Now that people saw the Muslim Brotherhood members breaking free they openly cheered and chanted slogans. When the four gunmen emerged from the prison with their three American prisoners the crowd went wild with fervor, their extremist devotion overwhelming a few members who dropped to their knees.

A gray mini-van edged through the crowd.

Just then, a civilian ran up out of the gathering crowd with a black Al Qaeda flag attached to a thin metal pole. One of the gunmen grabbed the flag while the other three escorted their prisoners to the van.

With his head still wrapped in the black
kafiyah
, the gunmen held the black flag proudly as he began to wave it back and forth.

“
Allllaahh Akbaaarr!
” he screamed at the top of his lungs.

“
Allah Akbar!!!
” the crowd screamed in return.

With the prisoners loaded into the back of the van, the gunmen handed the black flag back to a Muslim Brotherhood member. Jumping into the van, it lurched off as the crowd parted ways. Escaped prisoners and protestors alike praised these gunmen and their gift from god.

Ramon began downloading his Barrett magazines, sliding each cartridge out on by one and setting them down. The bullets were about the size of his finger and had enough kinetic energy even after traveling 1,000 meters to cut a man in half.

Their target building in the engineering section of the University of Cairo was only about 700 meters away, an easy shot with the .50 caliber rifle. There would be little compensating for gravity or wind at that range when firing a round with so much energy behind it. The former Special Forces sniper had no doubt that he could hit targets at that range with this rifle, even if he was a little rusty. They also had a very detailed range card that he and Deckard made copies of. Deckard could call in pre-designated target reference points to help Ramon get on target faster as well.

Flipping open the latches on the black box that Deckard had retrieved from under the bridge, Ramon began sliding the bullets under the feed lips of the magazine, which depressed the follower as the magazine filled with ten rounds. They looked like normal .50 caliber rounds except that the bullets themselves had clear plastic wrapped around them.

“Whoever set that cache was sloppy about it,” Deckard complained as he watched Ramon. “What is so special about these bullets anyway?”

“Sloppy or just rushed,” Ramon elaborated. “It was worth the risk of going in to retrieve the cache. These are EMP rounds.”

“You've gotta be shitting me.”

“Nope,” Ramon said. “During the terminal phase, when the round makes contact with something, it will emit an electro-magnetic pulse which will short out and destroy any electronics within five meters. This way I will be able to clear a path for you by disabling the security systems as you make your infiltration into the engineering building. It should be sealed up pretty tight, all things considered. We'll see what we can do about that. There are also a couple EMP grenades in that case for you.”

“If you fire it too close to me, it will destroy my comms uplink,” Deckard said as he picked up one of the box shaped EMP grenades and inspected it in his hand.

“Well, don't get too close.”

Just then, Ramon's cell phone began to buzz.

Checking the text message he received, he then turned to Deckard.

“Showtime, brother.”

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.” Aaron Helms turned into a human chatter box as he sat in the back of the mini-van with the Al Qaeda gunmen, their eyes menacing him through the slits in their black head wraps. Aaron was just a liberal arts major who wanted to fight for human rights and got in over his head. Now he was on an express one-way trip to a made-for-youtube snuff flick starring him and his college bros in orange jump suits.

“We're so fucked,” he croaked.

The van hit a bump in the road and Adam started to cry.

One of the gunmen finished texting someone on his cell phone. He had to be the biggest Arab any of them had ever seen. Probably he was texting AQ HQ back in Pakistan, Aaron figured. Meanwhile, Luke was hugging himself as he gently rocked back and forth on the floor of the van.

As the driver took them across the Nile River on one of Cairo's many bridges, the three college students were left to ponder their fate. Then, one of the gunmen turned to the other and began to talk.

“I think you were getting a little too into it, Zach,” the gunmen said in English. “Waving the black flag around like that..what was that about?”

“I was just staying in character,” the other gunmen responded. “I take my job seriously, unlike some of you.”

Aaron and Adam looked at each other, both their faces streaked with tears.

“Both of you fucking jokers need to pull your heads out of your asses,” a third gunmen said.

“Whatever Rick. You're just jealous of my method acting.”

“Fuck you.”

The van rocked as they crossed the bridge, then the wheels squealed as they took a tight turn.

“Women drivers: no survivors,” the one they had called Rick announced.

“Eat my ass, Rick,” a woman's voice said from up front, the driver not even turning to look at them.

“Don't threaten me with a good time. I'd eat the peanuts out of your shit, girl.”

The others laughed until the big guy who had been texting screamed at them.

“Knock it the fuck off,” he snarled. “We're still in the middle of an operation.”

Then he peeled off his head wrap. The others followed suit. The college kids looked on with slack jaws.

The guy with the beard looked over and saw their expressions.

“Did you guys really think Al Qaeda would break into a prison and free you just to execute you?” the American said.

“Uh,” Aaron began. “Maybe.”

Luke pursed his lips like he had just bitten into a lemon.

“Damn, you kids look like you are about to piss your pants,” the blonde haired American said.

Luke took a deep breath.

“Too late.”