Huston, James W. -2003- Secret Justice (com v4.0)(html) (2 page)

Rat dropped toward the African desert and watched the illuminated altimeter on his wrist. He controlled the instinct to gasp for air from the shock of the coldness. He slowed his descent rate with his arms and pulled the ripcord at exactly ten thousand feet. The rectangular-shaped para-glider canopy opened over his head with a vicious jerk. He stabilized his descent and pulled the handles to turn toward his destination. He pulled his RPDA out of his chest pocket to check his position with the GPS imbedded in the RPDA. He verified his heading and distance to their destination and made a course correction. He looked ahead; he could see the roads and the intersection where they were to land ten miles away. Those behind him were also above him. All their para-gliders were dark green and invisible in the night. Rat’s alone had a white arrow on the top of it pointing forward, invisible from below, but easy to see in the faint moonlight from above.

They glided silently, dropping steadily. The sand was a pale gray below them in the half moon. He looked down as the first Toyota slammed into the sand. He couldn’t tell if it had landed upright. Rat checked his GPS again, then pulled out a ten-powered night rifle scope to see if he could find the buildings. He found them instantly, but saw more than he had expected. He could see at least four, maybe five, men walking between the buildings. His team had twelve. The sole support he could hope to get was from a Spooky gunship that was on its way. It would orbit ten miles away to be called in only in an emergency. To call the Spooky would be an admission of failure.

He checked the nightscope again and saw men standing guard around the biggest building. Rat turned down toward the south to approach the landing area into the wind that was from the northeast, slightly behind him into his right. The others followed. He placed the scope back in his pocket as well as his RPDA. He made sure everything was secure. He tugged on the strap of his H&K MP5N submachine gun to make sure it was attached tightly to his chest and prepared to hit the ground. He turned sharply into the wind, guiding his para-glider carefully.

He dropped far enough below the rise that even the top of his para-glider would be invisible to the small intersection where Duar sat just over the ridge. He touched down in the sand and ran quickly to arrest his ground speed. His feet slogged through the soft sand and he tumbled over. As the para-glider began to drag him across the sand, he quickly released one of the Koch fittings dumping the air out of the glider. He jumped up, released the other Koch fitting on his shoulder harness, and began rolling up the para-glider. He wrapped it into a tight ball and began digging in the sand. He placed the para-glider in the hole and poured sand on top of it. The others landed behind him, silent except for an occasional grunt or curse.

They buried their para-gliders and quickly made their way to Rat, who was kneeling in the sand. Groomer and three others hurried to the Land Cruisers and checked for damage. They were perfectly intact. They unstrapped the vehicles from their pallets, jumped in, and started the engines. The Toyotas responded instantly. Groomer and the others drove them off the pallets, across the loose sand, and onto the road. Groomer’s Toyota was in front with the engine idling and the lights off. The markings of the Sudanese Army were clearly visible in the moonlight.

Rat spoke quietly to his men. “Everybody okay?” as they all climbed out of their harnesses and adjusted their Sudanese Army desert camouflage uniforms.

They all nodded as they removed their helmets and pulled desert brown headscarves over their heads. They put goggles over their eyes, giving them a Rat Patrol look that disguised light skin, red hair, or blue eyes. Rat got right to the point. “Three guard posts, one on each of the roads, and a third closer in, next to the buildings. Banger, you’re going to have to get up on top when we’re stopped and hit the guard by the building. I can’t tell how far apart they are, but it’s probably close to five hundred yards. You’ll have to be quick about it. There are two of them. You up for that?”

Banger nodded. “I’ll have to get the window out.”

“Get it now,” Rat said. To the others, “You all know the plan. Any questions?” There weren’t any. “Let’s go.”

Banger hurried to the backseat of one of the Land Cruisers, removed the rear window, and tossed it into the sand.

The rest of Rat’s SAS team loaded quickly into their assigned seats. Groomer turned on his lights and accelerated down the road. The three Land Cruisers drove at a leisurely pace, mimicking the pace of a Sudanese Army patrol with no particular concerns. They crested the hill and could clearly see the intersection and the buildings. Rat scanned the area quickly looking for any changes. The guards were right where he expected them to be. They were clearly alarmed to see three approaching vehicles. One of the guards reached for the large binoculars on his chest.
Good
, Rat thought.
Use those big lenses to read the Sudanese Army markings
.

The guard did. He pulled the binoculars over his head and handed them to the man next to him. Rat looked past them and saw the two men outside the main building, and the two men guarding the road on the other side of the cluster of buildings looking north for traffic. They too were now aware of the approaching vehicles.

Groomer drove on, now less than a half-mile from the guards.

Rat wanted to be able to get to the main building where the meeting was occurring without alerting those inside. “Up you go,” he said to Banger. “Take out the other road guards before you hit the two by the building.”

“Give it a try, sir. They’re out there a bit. Can I hit them while we’re still moving?”

“If you get a good shot. Use your sound suppressor.”

Banger reached through the missing rear window, grabbed the back of the large roof rack, and pulled himself up onto the roof of the Land Cruiser. The other SAS team member handed him his M-25, a sniper rifle designed specially for the American Special Forces. He lay on top of the vehicle on a pad that had been lashed to the roof. He looked through his huge nightscope at the first group of guards to see if they were alerted and ready to do something about the approaching Toyotas. Their body language told him they were annoyed, confused, and not quite sure what to do about the Sudanese Army. Suddenly, the first guard, the one who had been wearing the large binoculars, said something to the second guard, who quickly nodded and broke into a jog toward the main building a hundred yards away.

“Shit,” Rat said. He had wanted to preserve radio silence as long as he could. He transmitted quickly to Banger—but the entire team could hear—
”Don’t let him report
.”

Directly over his head Banger had already formed the same conclusion and decided that the guards by the main building were going to have to go first. His sound-suppressed rifle coughed and the jogging guard pitched forward in the sand. The guards leaning against the wall of the main building laughed, thinking he had tripped. When he didn’t move or get up, they were confused. They had heard nothing. They pushed away from the wall and began walking toward the guard lying face down in the sand.

Banger fired again and one of them went down in a heap. The other now realized what was happening and turned to warn those in the main building. Too late. Banger’s third shot reached him before he could cry out. The bullet slammed into his back then expanded as it tore through his heart.

The guard with the binoculars was completely unaware of the bullets flying over his head. He was standing up tall, waiting for the Sudanese Army patrol to stop. He had prepared himself for such a moment, but hadn’t expected it to happen. He put out his hand to stop the vehicles as Groomer did what he was told, stopping a good ten paces from the guard, with his bright lights still on. He wanted the guard to come to him.

Banger’s rifle jerked again, and one of the guards on the other side of the compound spun around and fell to the sand. As his partner bent over to determine what had happened, Banger fired again. The bullet hit him in the side, knocking him away from the first guard and tearing him open. He fell to the ground in agony, unable to speak.

The guard with the binoculars approached the Land Cruiser. Rat wasn’t going to give him a chance to guess what was happening. Rat threw open his door and jumped out. He could see that the man was taken aback by the major’s insignia Rat was wearing on his Sudanese uniform. Rat took advantage of the surprise and yelled at him in his unaccented Arabic, “What is the meaning of this? Who the hell are you? What authority do you have to stop the Army? And why do you have an automatic weapon that you dare to show to the Army?”

The guard didn’t know what to say. Rat lowered his MP5N with sound suppressor and fired a three-round burst into the guard’s chest. He fell to the ground, killed instantly.

Rat looked around quickly. They were within a hundred yards of the main building and still had a chance of approaching without being discovered. He gave the “hold” sign and Groomer and Robby, another SEAL, put the Land Cruisers in park and climbed out. Rat wanted them to leave the engines running—it would now be more likely that someone would notice the new silence than a distant engine.

Banger rolled off the top of the Land Cruiser as the others poured out. Rat began a steady jog toward the main building as the others spread out and followed him. Rat had given clear instructions—two men were to be taken alive at any cost: Acacia and Wahamed Duar. If they could capture others, like Lahoud, fine. But those two had to come out alive.

Rat reached the outside wall of the main building. The others ran to cover the exits and the other buildings. Groomer stood by the door into the main building. Rat looked at the wall to determine its thickness. Robby knew what he wanted. He too had worked with Rat in Dev Group and was a communications and electronics specialist. He reached into his backpack and handed Rat a device slightly bigger than his hand. Rat nodded and placed the Ultra Wide Band Through-Wall Radar Transceiver against the wall. He activated it and waited as the electronic waves coursed their way through the wall and the room behind it and returned, generating a picture of the room and everything in it, including people. Almost every man in the room was holding a weapon, but in a nonthreatening position. Most had them at their sides, stocks resting on the concrete floor.

The glint patch in Acacia’s pen identified him. Rat pointed at the shiny spot, which Groomer acknowledged. It was Groomer’s job to get Acacia out unscathed. Rat studied how the people were sitting and standing. He knew everyone would be facing and deferring to Duar.

Rat motioned for the three squad leaders and watched the images for a few more seconds with them. They all knew where Acacia was in the room, and they knew to avoid the two at the table. Duar had to be one of the men sitting at the table, and the other almost certainly was Lahoud. Rat turned off the device and handed it back to Robby.

Rat spoke softly into his microphone. “Ten seconds. Groomer’s second in.”

The CIA team ensured their weapons were ready. Most carried H&K MP5Ns like Rat, a small submachine gun that weighed only six and a half pounds. Favored by the SEALs, they were reliable and accurate, and their 9-mm round was subsonic—they could use silencers. But this time Rat’s team was going in without silencers. Noise was a weapon against those who weren’t ready for it.

Rat raised his hand. The others lined up behind him. He lifted the lever to the door and walked in slowly with his submachine gun on his hip and began speaking loudly in Arabic. “I am Major Wassoud of the Sudanese Army. Who is in charge here? Who told those men to stop our Army patrol?” Rat’s heart was pounding as he looked around the room. He immediately recognized Duar.

Rat’s Sudanese desert camouflage uniform was perfect. He wore the shoulder badge of an officer of the southern security detail. The two men at the table looked at him in fury. Duar immediately suspected something. But Rat’s boldness gave him just enough time to get ten SAS team members into the room. They picked their targets quickly and pointed their weapons directly at them. The men in the room with Duar and Lahoud were reluctant to reach for their own weapons. Rat paused, then pointed his weapon at Duar and yelled in Arabic, “American Special Forces! Lay down your weapons!”

Three of the men behind Duar quickly raised their AK-47s toward Rat and were immediately gunned down. The room erupted in pandemonium. Duar’s men tried to stand up and bring their automatic weapons to bear on the intruders. Several began shooting but were hit by American fire before they could even get their assault rifles to their shoulders. The sound of automatic weapons fire was deafening as muzzle flashes illuminated every corner of the room. The Americans trained for just such an event every day. Duar’s and Lahoud’s men were up trying to aim, looking for cover, falling to the floor to fire, and falling to the floor dead; blood was flying, bullets chipped the floor and walls, and men screamed in fear and agony.

Groomer ran to Acacia and pulled him away from the wall. Lahoud saw the look in Acacia’s eye. He knew he had been betrayed. He stood and pulled a handgun out of the folds of his robe to shoot Acacia. Groomer fired quickly and the short square man dropped in a heap.

Duar bolted toward the back of the room with two of his men covering his move. Rat saw him go through the door, but knew it led outside through a small hallway. Two of his men were waiting at the other end of that hallway. “Banger, coming your way.”

“Roger.”

Suddenly bullets zipped by Rat’s head as he moved left. The American next to him was hit twice in the face and spun to the floor, dead. Rat turned to the assailant, furious. He raised his weapon to kill the man who had just shot the American. The man threw down his AK-47 and held up his hands. He had a slight wound on his shoulder, but was otherwise fine. As Rat hesitated another man fired at him. Rat turned slightly and blew open his belly. Bullets flew wildly into the wall and out the top of the building as the man fell to the floor still clutching the trigger of his weapon.