Fight for Power (8 page)

We'd be the first in. Hopefully we'd sweep in, do our business, and be gone before anybody had a chance to react and knock us out of the air.

“How soon will we be over the target?” Herb asked over the intercom.

“A few minutes. I just hope we time it right.”

“So do I,” Herb said.

The sun was still below the horizon, but the sky was already much lighter than when we had left the neighborhood.

Our plan was to arrive when there was just enough light to see our targets but not enough to become one ourselves. Our attack would be the signal for everything that followed.

I visualized the diagram that Herb had drawn and Quinn had labeled. There were a dozen buildings scattered across the compound. Those on the south and toward the center were used for supplies and storage. Five others were barracks, one hundred men per building. Four of them could be unoccupied, but more likely the remaining soldiers were scattered among the five buildings. If they were working on three shifts, then approximately eighty men would be asleep while forty would be on the perimeter walls. By now they had to know that something had gone terribly wrong with their attack on our neighborhood, but we hoped they wouldn't suspect just how bad it was. Regardless, Herb figured they'd be on high alert.

“You'll have to hold it steady,” Herb said. “Be prepared for concussion waves depending on what the grenades ignite.”

Herb had a bag on his lap that held a dozen grenades. He was going to drop three or four onto the barracks as we came over. With any luck Herb would be able to drop all of the grenades before we cleared the compound. Then, we'd come back over, stay high and clear as eyes in the sky, radioing down by walkie-talkie to the four squads, helping coordinate as they attacked from all sides.

We were flying almost due east. On the horizon a thin line of red light was emerging, getting bigger and thicker and glowing more brightly as I watched. I wanted to open the throttle up to get there sooner, but I knew I couldn't. We were going to come in low enough and slow enough to allow Herb to drop the grenades. I had to just hope there was still enough darkness to hide us, because they'd hear the sound of the engine coming. We were counting on them thinking it was from something on the ground and not the air.

“I see it,” Herb said. He had his night-vision goggles down as well. “Straight ahead.”

I saw it, too. The chain-link fence and stone wall were now visible. I pictured the compound layout and knew where I had to go. I banked sharply to the right so that we could fly the entire length of the compound. I needed to make a long pass right down the center, directly over the barracks. Inside those buildings were sleeping soldiers, bloodthirsty raiders who, we hoped, would never have a chance to wake up ever again.

We passed over the fence—and now we were above the compound—and nobody was shooting at us. We'd come in unseen, even if they could hear us. Our invisibility would probably only last a few seconds, but each second was like a golden gift of protection. I couldn't think about it. I focused on the building that I knew was the first of the barracks, with four more behind it.

“Lower,” Herb said.

I was going to get him so low he could reach out and place the grenades onto the rooftop. I pushed down on the stick. “Here we go,” I said, and felt my stomach rise as the plane dropped—and still no gunfire.

The first building was coming up fast. Herb pulled the pin and tossed down a grenade, then a second and a third. I swooped over the top of the building and then there was an explosion.

The ultralight bucked and we were bathed in bright light.
Ahhhhhh!
The brilliant flash nearly blinded me through the night-vision goggles, and with one hand I pushed them onto my forehead, holding the stick firm with the other. I pulled up on the stick as a second explosion sounded and then a third, each one hitting us with a shock wave.

Herb kept pulling pins and dropping grenades, one after the other, with explosion after explosion detonating in our wake as we soared along the barracks rooftops. And then suddenly we passed by the last building and a few seconds later we cleared the perimeter fence and soared up and away and into the darkness. There was nothing but the steady roar of the engine and propeller. We'd gotten in and out without being fired on. We'd taken them completely by surprise.

“Come back around, hard, fast!” Herb yelled.

I hit the rudder pedals as hard as I could. We started to slide, and I heard the engine threatening to stall—I goosed the gas, opening the throttle up completely to regain the speed I'd lost.

I could now see the compound out of the corner of my eye—there were flames, pools of light, but there was no movement on the ground, no sounds of bullets or secondary explosions, no muzzle fire.

“It's deserted!” I screamed. “It's—”

My voice was overwhelmed by the noise of more blasts, one after the other lighting up the entire compound, the entire sky, with reds, oranges, and brilliant whites, and hundreds of muzzle flashes greeting the dawn, a steady barrage of shots. It was our four teams, attacking from all sides, precisely according to plan.

“Cease fire!” Herb yelled into the radio. “Cease fire! Cease fire!”

The explosions and the muzzle bursts continued. Hadn't they heard him?

Gunfire was streaming from all sides—and other voices screamed out over the radio, trying to stop the attack, bring things under control. Then the shots lessened until only a few scattered ones sounded out, and then total silence.

I brought us back around, the compound right in front of us, buildings on fire, the flickering light thrown out by the flames the only movement visible.

“Report in!” Herb ordered. “Report in … Is there anybody down there?”

“Negative, negative, it's deserted!” It was my mother's voice over the radio. “The fence has been breached, the walls aren't guarded!”

“It could be a trap,” Herb warned.

“I'm going to send in Brett and his squad,” Mom said.

“Good. Let's keep the larger forces outside, alert, keeping an eye on their flanks. Don't let anybody come up from behind.”

“Roger that,” my mother responded. “Do you really think it's a trap?”

“I don't know that it
isn't
. Keep watch.”

As we came up over the compound again everything was much clearer. In those few short minutes, the sun had poked up over the horizon. Anxiously I scanned the ground for anything that could be dangerous. Three of the barracks were on fire at the center. All along the perimeter at different places the fences and walls had been breached, in some instances just blown to bits, the debris scattered behind. Outside the perimeter I caught glimpses of movement, sunlight reflecting off metal. I just hoped those were our people with our weapons.

“There's Brett's squad,” Herb said. “To the right, coming through the gap in the wall at about ten-thirty.”

Men were moving through the gap and starting to fan out across the compound, taking shelter as they moved, covering one another. We were too high for me to pick out which one was Brett, but I knew he'd be leading because he always was. No matter what the situation, he always put himself up front on point, taking the biggest risk, protecting the people he was leading. People respected him for that.

“There's an open stretch in the middle of the compound—that's where the Cessna landed. Do you want me to put down?” I asked.

“That's the last thing I want you to do. The place isn't secure yet,” Herb said.

“But I don't see anything.”

“There's lots you can't see that could kill us both. I want you to pull up and get elevation. We need to do a reconnaissance around the whole area to make sure that nothing is coming up from behind our squads.”

“We wouldn't be able to see a man or two out there either, hidden among the houses.”

“I'm not worried about a man or two. I'm worried about a hundred coming up in a coordinated ambush. That we'd see.”

I pulled back on the stick, hit the rudder, and banked to start a circle around the perimeter.

The sun was now completely above the horizon. I turned slightly away from the glow as it came up over my right side. Five minutes ago the rising sun was something I feared, an enemy that would make me visible. Now it felt like a friend, showing me the dangers below. Of course that also made me just as visible to anybody on the ground with a high-powered rifle and a scope. Instinctively, I pushed back on the stick and we dropped down quickly.

“What's wrong?” Herb demanded. “Do you see something?”

“Nothing and nothing. Just a little evasive action to be careful.”

“Careful is good. They could be out there. We might have just missed them. They could have heard or seen us coming and fled. If we see them, we can give chase,” Herb said.

“Chase them? We'd send people after them?”

“People, yes, but us first. I still have four grenades. We could take out a truck or two, maybe twenty men.”

“Or they could take us out.”

“There's always that,” Herb said.

“Shouldn't we just be grateful they're gone and not bother chasing them?”

“That's the last thing we should be grateful for.”

“But we didn't have to fight. We didn't have anybody killed or hurt.”

“Not now, but do you think it's good to have a hundred or so armed men out there doing harm, causing havoc, killing innocents, and possibly coming back at us at some point?”

“But they ran from us now, so wouldn't they be afraid to attack us?”

“Just because they're afraid now doesn't mean they can't rearm, gain strength, and come back at us again. The only certainty we could ever have of them never bothering us again is if we neutralize them once and for all.”

Neutralize
—such a polite word for
kill
.

“Okay,” I said.

“Back home, the committee has to know that really this was far from successful, but for everybody else this has to be seen simply as another victory. They need to feel good about the positive and not worry about the future. Worry can be paralyzing.”

“Or the truth can be liberating,” I responded.

“Only as much truth as they can handle.”

We circled around and Herb peered below with binoculars. He was looking down but also well into the distance. Would he be able to see them, driving away in their vehicles? And if he did would we go after them, just me and him, right now?

I was just grateful for seeing nothing except houses, stores, and a few seemingly deserted factories. Lost down there among all those buildings could easily be a hundred armed men, or a thousand, or ten thousand. But I couldn't let my mind get racing. It was only a hundred, and I was sure they were long gone, but it didn't matter if they were hiding or not, as long as they didn't attack our people.

We kept banking, executing a big circle around the compound. I wasn't seeing anything anywhere, not even the ordinary trickle of morning movement in the surrounding neighborhoods. No doubt the explosions and gunfire had kept people from chasing after water, food, and resources for a moment, but that moment was over.

I thought back to something Herb had said. “How much truth do you give me?” I asked.

“Truth is a tricky concept.”

“No it isn't.”

“Yes it is. Truth is subjective. Just because I think something will happen doesn't mean it will. There's no sense in bringing you into all of my nightmares and have you lose sleep as well.”

“Sleep doesn't come easy right now, but I'd like to know,” I said.

“Everything?”

“Everything.”

“Really?” he asked. He turned to look at me and for a moment his eyes gleamed ferociously.

I swallowed. “Well, yes, I guess … sure.”

“Look, Adam, I always tell your mother and you everything, just maybe not all at once, in the same instant.”

“Like with the prisoner yesterday.” I could feel the anger building up inside again.

“I know how much that bothered you,” he said. “I didn't just withhold the truth but deliberately tricked you. You have my word that won't happen again.”

“Unless you really have to.”

He smiled. “Bring us around and let's see if we can land. I think the compound has been secured.”

I was grateful to be breaking off the circle. I didn't want to find anybody or anything to chase. I just wanted to land.

 

7

By the time I'd come back around for the landing, the report from Brett's team had crackled over the radio. The compound was empty, deserted, and we had it completely secure.

I could see people—our people—surging through the gaps in the walls, swarming all over the grounds, and taking up positions along the perimeter. A big gate on the north side had been opened up, and all our vehicles were driving in. The rising smoke from the burning buildings was the wind sock I used to gauge the direction and strength of the wind. It also made the landing more difficult, since we were flying directly into the blowing smoke.

The runway was a wide pavement cutting through the middle of the compound. It was long enough to handle a Cessna, so it was far bigger than anything I needed. It was completely open. Herb had radioed down to make sure neither vehicles nor people crossed over until we landed.

I pushed forward on the stick, eased off on the throttle, and brought us in slow and low. We hit a patch of black billowing smoke and then descended beneath it, for a clear ride. We touched down so gently that for an instant I wasn't sure if we were even on the ground. I backed off the throttle and eased the brakes. There was no need to hit them hard because we had so much real estate ahead of us.

No sooner had we stopped and I'd killed the engine than we were surrounded by our people. We clicked off our harnesses, and practically before we could remove our helmets we were offered hands to help us from the ultralight.