Echo Six: Black Ops 5 - Strikeforce Syria (10 page)

"Right. Can you get us to this place, Marran?"

She grinned. "The name is on the signpost. It says Marran is the next left, three kilometers down the road."

He looked at the sign again, which was a collection of squiggles. The Arabic language was weird, something of a mystery to those who'd never learned it. He was one of them. When he served in the Seals, he learned a number of stock phrases parrot fashion. Stuff like, ‘stop or I shoot’, or 'I need to search your car'. The rest was incomprehensible.

Rovere nodded. “I’ve got it.”

He looked back at Rebecca. "You can locate this guy Khalil?"

"I saw his street address during the briefing. I'm sure I can find it. Marran is only a small village, and he runs the vehicle repair shop, probably the only one."

"Let's hope so. I don't want to go knocking on the wrong door," he said dryly. "Especially as it'll be dawn soon. If they see soldiers on the street, we'll have the Syrian Army down on us. I guess we have a half-hour at best before it gets light."

Rovere restarted the engine and scorched away in a shower of sand, saw the turnoff for Marran at the last moment, and almost overturned the vehicle as he lurched into the bend. The road went downhill, and he got the speed up to almost a hundred kph as they careered into the village. The place consisted of five streets, with the inevitable mosque in the center. They found Khalil's repair shop in a backstreet, which lay behind the mosque. There was an archway at the side of the building that led into the premises at the back. He didn't stop. The gates were wide open, and he drove through into a walled courtyard. It resembled a car scrapyard, with a dozen or so vehicles in various states of disrepair. There were only two that looked functional. One was a huge recovery truck with a big crew cab. The other was a vintage bus, painted bright orange. At least, those parts that hadn't surrendered to the rust were bright orange. It was an antique, and the bodywork sagged to one side on tired and worn springs. Everything else was derelict.

Immediately the UAZ stopped they tumbled out, and Talley told the girl to locate the owner. The men fought with the heavy gates to close them against the shrieking protests of the rusted hinges. Guy detailed two troopers to mount guard, Jesse Whitefeather at the front and Julio Garcia to cover the rear. Then they waited for her to return. Several minutes later, she descended a flight of stone steps with an obese, nervous-looking man wearing torn pants and a black T-shirt with Coca-Cola printed on the front. She introduced them.

"This is Mahmoud Khalil, Commander. He speaks English."

Talley stepped forward, his hand outstretched. "Mr. Khalil, we need your help."

The Arab's hand was damp with sweat, although he looked calm enough for someone who’d been awoken by a group of armed soldiers. He shook his head.

"I have done everything I was paid to do. Anything more would be a risk. Come back tonight when it is dark."

“I'll make sure they give you a bonus,” Talley told him. “I need current intel on this Sheikh Najjar place, so you'll have to launch an Albatross. Do you have an electronic pad to view the video downlink?"

"Yes, yes, I have an epad, of course. But what you ask is impossible. It will be dawn in a few minutes, and a daylight launch is a huge risk, one I cannot take. If the soldiers see it, they'll surround this place with troops, and we'll all be killed. Come back tonight."

He was unsure about how to persuade the man in the short time they had left, but Rebecca had other ideas.

"Mahmoud, you’ll put Albatross in the air!" She took her pistol out of the holster and began to screw on a suppressor. "Tonight is too late, so maybe it would be better to kill you now, to stop you tipping off the authorities."

He stared back at her, his expression still calm. “I am on your side, you know that. There is no need for threats.”

"You're on the side that pays most," she hissed. "You've taken plenty of shekels from Israel. It's time to show some loyalty."

"I am loyal to Israel, I assure you, but it's too dangerous. Can’t you see that?"

She tapped him gently on the nose with the suppressor. "If you don’t launch the drone, danger won't be a problem for you. Decide, Mahmoud! You have five seconds. Make up your mind."

He finally nodded. "Very well!” He was angry she’d threatened him, but he quickly recovered his calm demeanor. “But it has to be now. Even so, this close to the dawn…" He shrugged.

Talley watched the exchange with interest. Something told him the guy would have done what they asked without the gun pushed in his face. It would be better to keep this guy on their side, and threatening to shoot him could have the opposite effect. She holstered the pistol, and Mahmoud sighed with relief.

He led them to a building at the side of the yard and opened the doors, revealing his spacious workshop. It was strewn with old auto parts, a long grease coated tool bench, and incongruously, a chicken run in one corner. They followed him inside and watched him pull heavy wooden boards aside to reveal a vehicle inspection pit in the floor. He descended into the pit and emerged moments later carrying the drone. The strange craft had eight motors, each with its own rotor blades mounted on each of the stubby arms. The dish-shaped fuselage was about half a meter in diameter, and when Mahmoud turned it upside down to operate the controls, they could see the tiny lens of the video camera.

"It is an Israeli development of the quadcopters that are becoming popular in the West. Of course, it is an offence to own such a device in Syria. The government is afraid its citizens may spy on them, so I have to be careful."

"What about the controller?" Talley asked him.

"One moment, I keep it in a separate part of the building, just in case I am searched."

He ran to one of the broken down vehicles, an old Land Rover that was partly dismantled. He reached underneath the bodywork and opened a compartment hidden below the chassis. His hand emerged with a tablet mounted in a tough canvas case. When he opened it, Talley recognized it immediately.

"That's an Apple iPad, Mr. Khalil. How can it communicate with an overhead reconnaissance drone?"

The Syrian smiled. "It is no ordinary iPad, my friend. The Israelis modified it extensively, and it has a built-in receiver for the video signals from the Albatross. The transmitter application to control the craft is also built into the pad, so it is all that is needed to set the GPS coordinates and monitor the craft when it is aloft. The maximum range is one hour, and I will land it in a location out in the desert. When it is dark, I will drive there to retrieve it. The place is about three kilometers outside Marran."

They watched him punch buttons on the touchpad interface. He looked up at them.

"So you wish to monitor Sheikh Najjar?"

"Yes, of course," she snapped. His eyes returned to the screen. "And we will take the tablet with us." He looked up. "Impossible! I cannot let you have the controller. If you take this…"

She allowed her fingers to play on the butt of the gun. His shoulders slumped. "Very well, but take care of it. I have programmed the flight radius and the desert landing zone, so if all goes well, it will carry out its task and land. It is autonomous, you see," he ended proudly, as if he'd invented and built it himself.

She nodded. "Get it up in the sky. We do not have much time."

He looped the straps of the pad over his shoulder, carried the strange aircraft out into the open yard, and hit the start button. All eight rotors began turning. He placed it evenly on the ground, took hold of the iPad, and began pushing buttons on the screen. Immediately, the rotors increased power, and the Albatross lifted off the ground. At a hundred meters it was invisible in the dark, and the faint whir of the motors almost inaudible. Khalil took his hands off the pad and gave them a look of triumph.

"That's it. It knows what to do. I estimate ten minutes before it reaches the start of its programmed surveillance grid. Then you have fifty minutes, and the craft will leave station and fly out into the desert to land." He handed Talley the iPad. "I want it back. It is essential for the work I do here."

"We need your truck too, Mr. Khalil. Where are the keys?"

"My truck! No, it is my livelihood. And they will recognize it."

Rebecca scowled. "Do you have a death wish, Syrian? You work for us, and if we need your truck, we'll take it. Give him the keys!"

"Okay, okay, they are inside my apartment, upstairs. I will get them now. Is this the way you treat people who are on your side?"

She released him. “I will make sure you are compensated if anything happens to it.”

He nodded. “How will you give me back my life if they trace the ownership back to me?”

He carried on up the staircase. Talley nodded to Sergeant Reynolds.

"Roy, take Drew and keep an eye on him. Just in case."

His big black Sergeant nodded and glanced across at Jackson. "Let's go."

They went after Mahmoud even though they knew there was no way he'd betray them. It would mean a death sentence if the Syrians found out whom he’d worked for. Even so, it was best to be sure. He sought out Guy to explain.

"We're going to use the wrecking truck when he comes back with the keys. If they see the UAZ overloaded with foreign soldiers, they'll shoot first and ask questions afterward. There's plenty of room in the cab for us to stay out of sight. Get the men aboard as soon as you have the keys, and we'll move out. And tell Domenico to look around for a mechanic's overall. He can drive, and I want him to look like a local.”

Talley looked around for Rebecca and took her to one side for a quiet word. "You should cut out the rough stuff with Mahmoud. You offended an ally, and there won’t be many more like him in this neck of the woods. He was only telling it as it is."

She gave him a harsh look. "I care nothing for who I offend, as long as it gets the job done."

She turned and walked away.

That went well. She may be an efficient killer, but there's more to fighting than killing people. Like showing trust and loyalty to the people around you.

Rovere returned a few moments later, shrugging into a filthy grease-stained garment that looked as if it was used for wiping down engines. He pulled a face.

“As Shakespeare himself said, ‘conceal me what I am, and be my aid. For such disguise as haply shall become the form of my intent’."

Talley grunted. "Whatever. Just get into that truck and start the engine."

He climbed aboard without another word, and seconds later Reynolds and Jackson reappeared and gave him the keys. There was a throaty roar, a plume of smoke flew into the air, the big diesel engine caught, and he blipped the accelerator to warm the engine. They climbed in, and he put the lever into gear and began to edge out of the yard. Mahmoud Khalil watched them from the top of the stone steps that led to his apartment. His face was expressionless.

Will he drop the dime on us? Surely he'd invite a Syrian bullet if they had a hint of what he's been up to? Christ, it's not as if enough hasn't gone wrong already with this operation. What the hell happened to Beckerman? If the enemy got him, we’re really fucked.

Rovere drove the truck along the desert highway that led into the nearby industrial center of Sheikh Najjar. Talley played with the controls on the modified iPad. The enhanced display showed the terrain beneath as it slowly crisscrossed the sky. Although it was still night, the sky was paler, enough to see the buildings and factories that made up the industrial center.

But which one is our target? Of course, why didn’t I see it sooner? The Syrians will have increased their security, and they'll be sure to have extra troops patrolling a sensitive weapons facility. The answer's obvious; look for the soldiers.

He adjusted the controls and widened the area of view. Almost immediately, he could see the whole of Sheikh Najjar, about one and a half kilometers to a side. Several military vehicles were parked over on the south side. He used the controls again to see the area. They'd parked outside a walled compound. Another touch on the controls, and he zoomed in even closer and could make out the shadowy shapes of men patrolling the outer wall.