The Team (16 page)

Chapter 45

Upper Deck

One section at a time, the team moved through the crowd. The first two food vendors that Chris approached were clueless, and gave up their boxes, which were hustled up the stairs of the section, outside to the open hallway. The K9 unit sniffed around and didn’t get a hit, so they continued. The third vendor saw them and tried to get away, but he couldn’t get through the cheering crowd. Two of the men grabbed him and escorted him to the top of the stairs, where the dog confirmed the bomb. The man’s wrists were zip-tied behind his back, and he was given to the Police officers who were now starting to get the word from Patty and her group.

“This is going to take too long,” said Ernie P. to Chris as they ran to the next section.

“As long as the signals can’t get to the triggers, we’ll be okay. Just keep your eyes peeled. We miss one box, and it’ll be thousands of casualties in a crowd like this.”

On the other side of the stadium, the K9 unit pulled hard against his leash. “Work, Cody! Work!” commanded Jeff. The dog froze and eyed a food vendor who spotted the team and the K9 unit up in the hallway area outside the stadium seats. Cody sniffed at the air and barked. The food vendor looked terrified. He dropped to one knee and reached into the box, trying to pull the bottom off and get to the Sarin bomblet.

Jon aimed his M4, the red dot on the bomber’s forehead, and fired a single silenced round. The man slumped over the box, dead instantly. Inside the stadium, the cheering crowd never heard the gunshot.

Ryan yelled, “I’ll double-check this section. You guys take the next one and I’ll catch up.” The other five men took off to the next section with Cody, and Ryan sprinted down the aisle steps scanning for food vendors. There section was clear, so he ran back up. For most humans, sprinting up and down stadium steps might have been brutal. For the members of the team, it was just another day at the office.

Patty and her group had split up and were finding police officers and Qatari soldiers, relaying what was happening as fast as they could. She also explained, as Chris had explained to her, why no one’s radio was working—the Americans were jamming the signals to prevent the bombs from being detonated. That seemed to backup her story, and even the most reluctant policemen began searching for the food vendors.

Twenty minutes later, there were sixty-three Qatari police and soldiers helping the team track down food vendors. And while there were numerous scuffles, tackles, fist fights, and foot chases, only three other bombers were killed with gunfire. Fortunately, the soccer match was so intense that the crowd was screaming wildly at the game and was oblivious for the most part. Seeing security grab people and drag them away wasn’t note-worthy at a Man U – Spain game. By the time the team was reunited at the other end of the stadium, they had secured seventy-one rigged vendor boxes. The men were slightly winded and soaked with sweat.

Cascaes wiped his face with the back of his hand. “Okay, upper level is clear. I have Qatari cops stationed at the four corner escalators looking for any vendors that might try and come up from downstairs. Time for us to head down and do this all over again on the first level. We’ve got a lot more help now—it should go faster, but the game’s almost over. These bombers have to be wondering what’s going on. They gotta know something’s up. They get desperate, they may try and just cook them off manually, so move fast and shoot if you have to. Move out!”

Chapter 46

Lower Deck

The team was running down the escalator with dozens of police and soldiers running after them. Patty and her people had gotten the word out, and they were still bravely running all over the stadium finding help. Upstairs, dozens of would-be bombers were zip tied and held in the security offices, with soldiers stationed at vendor boxes awaiting disposal instructions.

Cascaes reached the bottom of the escalator and ran to the first section. He stuck his head in to see the remaining game time. Less than fifteen minutes.

Almost impossible to find them all, even with all the extra help.

And then a change in luck.

Tucker began whining, and EOD Franklin let him run. Cascaes and his men ran after the dog, who was the most excited he’d been since he’d started working. They ran around the bend in the wall at the far end of the stadium and found themselves looking at double doors that led to the vending area. The dogs were barking and straining to get through the doors. Chris and the team sprinted to the doors and opened them up, finding themselves staring down into the eyes of a dozen bombers, all of them on their knees working feverishly to take apart their vendor boxes.

Earlier, the bombers had realized something was wrong and had started finding each other, looking for some type of guidance. Eventually, one of the men suggested they detonate the bombs manually, but that meant taking the boxes apart and pulling out the bomblets. They couldn’t do that inside the stadium with the crowd watching, so they had decided to go to the small room were the boxes had originally been stored to pull apart the metal. The team ran right into them.

“Freeze! Nobody move!” yelled Cascaes as he realized what he had stumbled upon. The dogs were barking wildly, but now they sat down and stared.

One of the bombers pulled his box apart and managed to get the bomblet out and separated from its cushion. He stood and cocked his arm to throw it. Three two-round bursts from three different weapons hit the man in the face and chest. He dropped the bomblet with a loud
pop
as the glass broke.

Chapter 47

Al Udeid

Dex was on the phone with Moose. “The guy you grabbed is Abdul Aziz, the leader of the New Wahhabi Jihad! You hit the jackpot, Moose!”

“Good news. Any word from the Skipper yet?” he asked. He was worried and hated being away from his guys when there was trouble.

“Not yet. Mackey is still in the air jamming the stadium. The team is on site, but we don’t have any word from them, and we won’t as long as the Prowler is jamming signals. We just have to wait. In the meantime, that phone you pulled off of Aziz has plenty of numbers. He called someone in Riyadh. As soon as the team gets back, you’re taking down that address.”

“You’re pretty optimistic, considering there’s some giant poison gas bomb in the soccer stadium, and we haven’t heard from our people in hours,” exclaimed Moose, obviously agitated.

“Moose, you know how good your team is. If there had been any type of explosion, we’d have heard about it by now. Just sit tight and wait.”

“This Aziz guy wouldn’t tell me shit.”

“And he won’t. Leave the interrogation to the professionals. We have methods for these things. You did your job.”

Moose made a face. “Yeah, but if I could get this piece of shit to talk, maybe we could help our team.”

“I understand your position, and I’m sure the urge to kick his teeth in is overwhelming. But he won’t talk just because you smack him around a little.”

“Who said it would be a
little
?” asked Moose.

“You’re to stand down and await further instructions. That’s a direct order. He’s in a secure area?”

“Yeah, the brig, with two guards posted watching him.”

“Perfect. He can’t kill himself, and you can’t kill him, either. My people will take him apart at the appropriate time. You completed an important assignment, Moose. This wasn’t just some two-bit bad guy—this was the guy trying to wipe out an entire soccer stadium full of civilians and an American airbase. It was a huge catch. I’ll be in touch.” He hung up.

Ripper sat across the table with Hodges.

“So now what?” asked Ripper.

“We wait. I don’t like it any more than you do. But we have to just wait.”

Moose and Ripper spent the next twenty minutes staring at the phone, pacing around the small office like caged animals. When they couldn’t take it anymore, they pulled their duffle bags and began cleaning weapons, sharpening combat knives, and changing batteries on night vision equipment—anything to stay busy, and be prepared for a call they prayed would come swiftly.

Chapter 48

Soccer Stadium

The shots echoed through the hallway and prep room, and everyone froze as the bomber dropped his bomblet of Sarin. When it hit the concrete floor, the glass
pop
was audible. For a split second, time stood still. A dozen bombers…a dozen Special Operators…just stared at the round glass bomblet as it lay broken and hissing on the floor. Upon contact with the air, the clear liquid foamed and vaporized, expanding quickly as it fogged the room.

In the next split second, Cascaes sprinted forward and slammed the doors shut. Realizing what Cascaes was doing, Jon raced forward and slammed against the doors as well. The rest of the team members joined them and, as they held the doors closed, the bombers inside began screaming and pushing from the other side. The tug of war on the double doors lasted for maybe thirty seconds, and the agonized screaming inside was horrific. The noise died down, leaving the team holding the doors closed against very weak pushing. They could hear coughing and gagging inside for another few seconds, and then the pushing against the door stopped altogether.

“Everyone back!” screamed Cascaes, afraid that the mist might start to leak out from under the doors.

The team pulled back and took up firing positions in case anyone made it out of the room. There were a few more coughs and a muffled cry, and then silence from the room.

“Karma’s a bitch,” said Jon quietly.

The men stared at the door. Even for seasoned combat veterans, it was maybe the most horrific thing they’d ever been a part of—they were all thankful they hadn’t actually seen what was happening on the other side of the door.

Jon was kneeling next to Chris and looked over at him with wet cheeks. “My great grandparents died in Auschwitz. It’s all I could think about when we were holding the doors closed,” Jon whispered.

Chris nodded slightly. “Your great grandparents were murdered. What you just did saved fifty thousand people—you remember that. Clear?”

“Yes, sir,” he replied.

“Okay, people! On your feet! Ryan—you stand post and don’t let anyone open those doors. The rest of you, on me!” Cascaes took off with his team close behind. There were still plenty of places to look.

With the upper deck secured, and most of the Qatari police and soldiers now assisting in detaining every vendor they saw until their box could be checked, the search on the lower deck went quickly. The dogs even hit on two boxes that had simply been abandoned by their would-be bombers who must have had too much time to think about their fate. By the time the game ended, there were Qatari security guards, cops, and soldiers at every confiscated box, moving the crowd through the tunnels and out of the stadium. Many of the fans were venting their anger at their horrible experience in the stadium. The jumbotrons hadn’t worked since halfway through the first half; there had been no play-by-play announcing or any kind of audio; there was zero Wi-Fi or cell reception—it was outrageous! The tickets were expensive and while the game had been a thriller, the stadium was “garbage.”

The team exited the stadium to their waiting Black Hawk, but left their two EODs on site with their K9 partners. As the men made their way to the Black Hawks, another bird touched down nearby, and four more EODs from Al Udeid hopped out to assist.

Cascaes told them where to find their comrades inside the stadium and hopped aboard his bird with the others. The Black Hawk rose up and made a beeline back to Al Udeid.

From above, Mackey and the others in the Prowler could see the birds heading in and out, as the stadium emptied out into the parking lots. At Mackey’s request, the pilot asked for another crew to replace them and run electronic jamming so they could return to base. Twenty minutes later, they were joined by Moon Dog One, who took over their mission. Mackey and his crew were on the ground at Al Udeid only fifteen minutes behind the Black Hawk.

Chapter 49

Al Udeid

When the Black Hawk touched down, the base was still frantic with activity. Fire control teams in Hazmat suits had let the cars burn themselves out, and hopefully most of the poison gas with them. When the fires died down, they smothered the cars with foam and kept everyone back. Rescue personnel in protective gear had recovered the bodies of the two fallen Marine guards, who were taken to the hospital to be pronounced and prepared for their final trips home. Marine combat teams had been stationed around the perimeter, and Cobra gunships circled the desert looking for would-be attackers. The tension and anger showed in the faces of the Marines who had lost two brave brothers who refused to retreat from their post.

Cascaes and his men arrived back at their barracks to shower and change, and Mackey walked in behind them. They caught each other up quickly on the events at the stadium and the capture of Abdul Aziz. As soon as Mackey heard about Aziz being taken alive, he called Dex on his secure laptop so he could face to face chat with Dex and Kim. It took fifteen minutes for Cascaes to explain to them what had gone down at the stadium. Dex and Kim were amazed that none of the bombs had gone off.

“It’s simply the greatest counter terrorism mission I’ve ever heard of,” said Kim. “There would have been tens of thousands of casualties.”

Mackey nodded. “And it would have been seen
live
all over the world.”

Dex shrugged. “Actually, the Prowler knocked out the television transmission. Fans all over the world never got to see the game. I imagine there’s a lot of pissed off football fans in Manchester and Madrid right about now.”

“I won’t lose sleep over it,” said Kim. “We’ve been in touch with the Qataris. They’re more than ecstatic with the success of your mission and the assistance of the US government.”

“Great,” said Cascaes dryly. “Maybe they’ll lower the price of gas.”

“Don’t get crazy,” said Dex sarcastically. “I have a bird in the air headed to pick up Abdul Aziz.”

“Taking him to Gitmo?” asked Mackey.

Dex was stone faced. “Where
he’s
going, Gitmo would be a vacation. We
will
find out whatever is inside his head. Which brings us to your next job.”

Mackey scowled. “Whatcha got?”

“Right before your guys bagged Aziz, he made a phone call. We traced it. The number was outside Riyadh.”

“We playing baseball?” asked Mackey.

“Negative. You’ll be transported to Eskan and I’ll brief you when you get there. This will be strictly a commando mission. We
have
the ring leader. What’s left are strictly soldiers. These are enemy combatants and will be terminated. You’ll go in before sunup, assault, and un-ass back to Eskan where you will be flown home. Is your team good to go?”

Mackey looked at Cascaes. They were all exhausted—drained emotionally, physically, and mentally; just another day at the office. “We have one minor wounded—just a scratch. We’re good to go.”

“Transport plane will be waiting for you at the airstrip in three hours. Eat, shower, pack, and get your asses to Eskan. We’ll talk again in a few hours. Out.”

* * *

The sun had set on Qatar, and the base was eerily quiet. A brief ceremony was held to honor the two fallen Marines. Patrols moved around the perimeter, but everyone knew that the attack was over.

The team headed back out to the airstrip where a Gulfstream C20 sat fueled and ready to go. To everyone’s surprise, the base commander, Lieutenant General Houston, was there waiting for them as well. He snapped a salute at the team and shook hands with Mackey, pulling him close.

“Navy All-Stars, my ass. Thank you for what you did out here,” he said quietly.

“Thank you, sir,” replied Mackey, and with that, they loaded and took off for Eskan in Riyadh.