Viper Team Seven (The Viper Team Seven Series Book 1) (51 page)

Solomon
approached Parks and asked what was wrong.

“I’ll brief the entire team on what’s going on in a minute,” Parks
replied. “As you might guess, it’s not good news.”

*          *          *

BIG BIRD was
almost in Lebanese airspace. Another fifteen minutes or so and Parks and his
team would be HALO jumping into the utter darkness. Everyone was prepared for
the modified operation, and Parks was beginning to think that things would go
better with more men concentrated in one place. If the Lebanese were going to
be waiting for them, the least they could do was fight back.

“All right,
we’re almost there,” he told his team. “Let’s get ready. Get your M4s,
night-vision, lasers, radios, put on your parachutes, and line up.”

The next few
minutes were somewhat chaotic. People were putting on parachute backpacks,
passing out rifles and ammunition, and the few who were already ready were
double-checking their equipment.

Parks put on plastic
jump goggles, pulled on light gloves, and set up all the necessary HALO jump
equipment. He then grabbed an M4, took an over abundance of bullets, shoved his
satellite phone in his pocket, and received a radio. Then he called his team to
order.

“Let’s go over
this once more,” he commanded. “The three teams are now assigned as follows.
Mine are the painters and backup painters – I stole a man from Marler’s team – Solomon’s
are the guards, and Marler’s are the surveillance guys. My team will paint the
bunker in three different spots, just to ensure it’ll be blasted completely. Everything
will go just as it would have otherwise. The bunker busters will drop, the
TLAMs will be launched, and our helicopters will be close by, ready to extract
us out of there.” Parks left out the part about the mole. If it really came
down to that then he’d break the news to his team.

“Keep in good
contact with me,” Parks ordered. “Report anything suspicious. Don’t shoot
unless shot at. And use your heads all the time. Things may get chaotic, and I
want no one to be left behind. Got that?”

All the men nodded.

Parks said a
silent prayer and felt a sense of confidence. He was afraid too, but also had
some peace. He felt sure that his operation would be a success. Parks wasn’t so
sure if any of his team would be coming back. But that was the risk they had to
take.

“
Let’s get in
a line and double-check everything,
” the jump master, an Army sergeant
first class, yelled. “
If
anyone needs something I want to know about
it now.
”

Parks cringed as
he thought about how he was going to step out into nothingness, 10,000 feet off
the ground. He had done it many times at jump school and while attached to the
1st ANGLICO, and now was no different. Parks actually thought parachuting was
fun after he stepped out into nothingness. But that was the hardest part.

The red signal
light in the C-17 illuminated and Parks knew it was almost time to go.

“
Get ready,
”
the jump master ordered. “
Step out easy and don’t look down. Remember, open
parachutes at five hundred feet.
”

A minute later,
the red light turned green. The SFC opened the side door and Parks pulled down
his goggles and made sure everything was perfect.

“Go, go, go!” the
jump master shouted rhythmically above the roaring engines.

God please
help me,
Parks prayed. Then he stepped out into the black abyss.

The cold wind
and the fact that he was falling stunned him at first. Then he regained his
senses and tried not to think about how he was approaching the ground at over a
hundred miles per hour.

Seconds that
felt like eternity passed and Parks could sense that the ground was coming
fast. He’d have to pull the parachute soon but he had to time it just right. Suddenly,
Parks could make out the sand below him and he began to sweat at the sight. He
knew the time was coming soon.

Using every bit
of willpower he had, Parks forced himself not to just pull the parachute then
and there. He waited, waited, waited, and then finally his gut screamed at him
that it was time. He looked at his glowing altimeter and saw it read five
hundred feet. He then pulled the string on his parachute pack and looked up in
anticipation. There above him was the most beautiful sight he’d seen all day.
The white canopy had opened perfectly and everything was going to be all right.

Thank You
God,
Parks whispered to himself as he stared at the canopy.

Only moments
later, Parks hit the ground rather hard and the parachute landed directly on
top of him. Parks struggled out of his pack, and tried to push out of the white
blanket. He finally emerged from the covering and he scanned the area. There
was nothing around. Just sand.

Parks buried his
parachute, readjusted his gear, and waited for the rest of the team to find
their way to him.

One by one, the
rest of the men joined him. They each reported that they had buried their parachuting
equipment, just as ordered.

Parks did a
headcount and found that everyone was present.

“Double-check
everything,” he commanded. “We’re going to find that dirt road where our vans
are supposed to arrive, and wait there. It shouldn’t be far from here, but then
again who knows where here is?”

The team made
sure everything was in order and then prepared to move out.

“Everyone’s
ready?” Parks asked.

Every man said
they were.

“All right good.
‘Head ’em up, move ’em out.’”

Monday, April 21
^st
– 1500 hours

The Outskirts of Tripoli, Lebanon

Parks knew that
only two hours remained until the operation began. His teams were holed up in
three different, deserted buildings that the CIA had prepared specially for
them. The war bunker that housed the three warheads was not far away from where
the teams were located now, and once 1645 arrived, Parks would send out his
team to their positions.

Parks wasn’t
used to doing plain-clothes combat operations. In fact, this would be his first
time ever. He missed his camies, actually. They felt like his armor; civilian
clothes felt very unsafe. Parks had earned the Combat Action Ribbon three times
for combat against terrorists in the Middle East, and he definitely knew combat
well. But this was different. Instead of commanding a company of Marines, he
had government agents. Instead of having a CO on the field giving orders, he
had a satellite phone with which to contact the National Security Advisor.

Parks was new to
operating in this manner and he wasn’t afraid to admit that to himself. Of
course, he’d never tell his team that. It was a known fact that even when a not-so-capable
leader led confidently, the troops fought better than when a capable leader crumbled.
Parks had to lead with confidence even though he wasn’t used to this type of
combat.

As Parks waited for the time to pass he kept reminding himself of Marine
poster sayings that would encourage him. He loved several of the Marines’
posters but his favorite was one that portrayed a young Marine Officer in his
dress blues standing by a picture of the Trojan horse. “Superior thinking has
always overwhelmed superior force,” it said. Parks knew that the statement had
been proven time and time again, and there was no reason it shouldn’t be proven
again today. To pull off this operation, he would need to use some superior
thinking. 

*          *          *

It was 1645
sharp. It was time to move. But who would be waiting outside? What surprise
would take place? Parks wasn’t sure, but he would be ready for anything and
everything.

Parks picked up
his radio. “VIPER BRAVO, this is VIPER ALPHA,” he spoke softly. “Move out. Do
you copy? Over.”

Static was the
only reply for a second and then he heard Solomon’s voice on the radio. “VIPER
ALPHA, I copy that. We’re moving out. Out.”

Parks then
radioed in to Marler. “VIPER CHARLIE, this is VIPER ALPHA. Move out. Do you
copy? Over.”

“VIPER ALPHA, I
copy that,” Marler responded. “We’re on the move. Out.”

Parks faced his
own six-man team. “Let’s get out there and show these Lebanese what we think of
their new toys,” he ordered.

Parks exited the
building from a secret hatch on the side and began walking casually toward the
bunker, which was not visible from where he was. The rest of his team hung back
a bit and then at separate times followed from different directions. Parks tried
to act as inconspicuous as he could, but his heart was pounding a million miles
an hour.

The sky was
black and Tripoli had a gray look to it. Parks thought it was a junky city and
he couldn’t wait to leave. He wondered if the carbine and laser target
designator (LTD) at his side were arousing any attention. He hoped not. He was
taking back alleys and side routes just to avoid any contact with humans. So
far no one had seemed to blink an eye at him.

Several hundred
yards ahead, he saw it. It was unmistakable. The mosque was enormous and the
only people around it were military officials.

Must be
having a slow day,
Parks mocked.
I
wonder why no civilians are
inside.

Parks stopped
for a moment and radioed in to Marler. “VIPER CHARLIE, this is VIPER ALPHA.
Anything in front of me or my team that we should know about? Over.”

“Negative, VIPER
ALPHA. It’s clear. Everything’s going good,” Marler told him.

“Let’s hope it
stays good, VIPER CHARLIE. Out.”

Parks pocketed
his radio and continued his stalk. He moved within seven hundred and fifty yards
and when hunkered beneath a rotting pile of wood, he decided that he was close
enough. He nodded to the backup painter who was close behind him that this was
the place. Then he quickly set up the LTD. He gave the other two painters a
little time to position themselves before he radioed in to check if everyone
was ready.

“VIPER GOLF,
this is VIPER ALPHA, do you copy? Over,” Parks spoke into his radio after a
short wait.

A static-filled
response came. “VIPER GOLF is ready, VIPER ALPHA. Over.”

“Good. Watch the
clock. Out.”

Parks switched
to the other painter. “PAINTER THREE, this is VIPER ALPHA, do you copy? Over.”

“This is PAINTER
THREE,” the deep voice began. “I’m ready, VIPER ALPHA. Over.”

“Stand by. Out.”

Parks again put his radio in his pocket and waited. It was 1655.

*          *          *

It was 1659 and
time to start painting. Parks aimed the laser at the side of the golden mosque
and turned it on. He didn’t blink as he prayed that the others had painted
their targets, and that everything would go smoothly. So far things were going
well, but that could change in a millisecond.

Parks held his
stare at the mosque while he counted to sixty. Where was the bomb? A horrible
thought hit Parks. Maybe the National Security Advisor was the mole and he had
told Parks a story. What would happen then? There’d be no extracting
helicopters for his team. There’d be no laser guides at the real bunkers
housing the warheads. And worst of all, the mole would know exactly where Parks
and his team were and that they were stranded alone.

What do I do?
Parks asked himself.
Was this a trick and was I dumb enough to buy into it? No,
it can’t be,
he suddenly confirmed
. The CIA was here to help so we must
be in the right place. But why aren’t the Lebanese out hunting for us? What’ll
happen–

Parks’ thoughts
were cut off by the sound of a bomb dropping. It was music to his ears. He
hadn’t been tricked, and chances were Smith wasn’t the mole.

The bunker
buster fell horrifically fast and hard, and Parks was mesmerized by the sight
of it. Then the bomb was joined by two others, falling just as fast and as
hard. The first bomb reached Parks’ laser and followed it toward the building. Parks
watched with utter amazement as it slammed into the side of the mosque. Just as
his brother had said, it did look fake. The mosque had a delayed reaction, but
after a second, it exploded into a billion different pieces. The bunker buster
also tore into the war bunker, and chunks of cement were hurled high into the
air. Then the second bomb reached VIPER GOLF’s laser which was now aimed at a
pile of debris. The bunker buster railroaded into the top of the war bunker and
exploded with a deafening roar. Then the last one came. This would be the one
that was supposed to crack the final hole in the bunker that was hundreds of
feet below the surface. And it did. The final bunker buster reached PAINTER THREE’s
laser that was now pointed inside the hole, and followed it right into the cement
war bunker. The bomb hurled itself against the hardened object and roared even
louder than the first two had as it exploded.

Parks pulled
himself out of his nest and shouted into his radio. “All units, this is VIPER ALPHA!
Get back to HOME now! Get moving!”

Parks took off
like a rocket. He sprinted as fast as his legs could take him. He tore down a
side alley and down another and another. He never looked back. He rounded one
corner and ran straight into a Lebanese soldier. The soldier drew for his
sidearm but Parks swung his M4 right into the man’s gut. He then clubbed him
over the head with the carbine’s butt plate just hard enough to knock him out
but not kill him.

Parks resumed
his dash for the deserted building codenamed HOME, where he had been merely
minutes before. After a few moments he stopped when he saw Samuels running at
top speed down a deserted street. He was relieved that he was still okay. Parks
took off again without a second glance. As he ran, another soldier appeared
from around a corner. The soldier was directly in front of him so Parks just
lowered his head and rammed his shoulder into the soldier’s chest. Both men
slammed to the ground. Parks rolled off him and found that the man was
unconscious.

Parks pivoted
back to look at the mosque just to see the progress. He was just in time to see
the Los Angeles Classes’ first TLAMs come barreling into the exposed bunker.
The first three hit at almost the same time and a ball of fire roared up into
the sky with blinding effects. Parks had to shield his eyes and then he again
resumed his run.

That means
thirty seconds until the helicopters come,
he calculated.
I hope we all
make it there just as they touch down on the building’s roof.

Gunfire poured
from an AK-47 on Parks’ left. Parks swung to his left, found his target, and
squeezed off two rounds. The militant dropped.

The gunfight had
started and Parks knew things would start heating up. But twenty seconds were
all that remained until the helicopters touched down. So much depended on
perfect timing.

Parks dashed
into a back alley and looked around for a brief second. He spotted two of his
temporary agents pinned down behind a dumpster, trying to fight off assailants.
He bolted for them and then skidded down beside them.

“Go, go, go!” he
ordered.

Both men obeyed
without delay. Parks never saw them leave because he left the scene just as
quickly as he’d come.

Parks heard the
squealing of missiles and whipped around to see the final three TLAMs score a
direct hit on the nuclear warheads. He faced back around and took off for the
building which was now in sight.

Two Lebanese
soldiers ran straight for him, bearing automatic weapons and using them in
rhythm. Parks dove for the cover of a side street and then returned the fire.
He saw one of them grab for his stomach and the other trip and fall. But just
then someone fired on him from his left. Parks swung around and fired back.
Unfortunately his bullets didn’t come in contact with the soldier, and the
militant ducked behind a crate.

Parks left the
alley at top speed, not caring to stay around and have a firefight.

He turned a
corner and saw the building closer than it had ever been. Why had it taken him
this long to reach it? Had he been tangled up in all of the alleys and side
streets?

A mere second
later, three Marine Corps Ospreys descended, each flanked by two Marine Viper
gunships. Parks remembered that his dad had seen the prototypes of the Ospreys
flying around while he was at Quantico, Virginia. Parks had never been in one
before but now he would get his chance to ride in the helicopter that took off
like a helicopter but flew like a plane. The side-by-side rotors allowed it
that capability.

From nowhere, a
man leaped on Parks and tackled him to the ground. Parks leaped up and quickly
found that his gun was knocked far out of reach. He had to fight this soldier with
his own two hands. But strangely, the man didn’t have a gun either, only a
knife.

The man lunged
at him but Parks sidestepped and reached over and grabbed the man’s hand that
held the knife. Then Parks moved behind the man and used his feet to trip the
man to the ground, all the while fighting to keep the knife centered at the
man’s chest. Momentum was used against the attacker and he fell on his own
knife.

Parks scrambled
for his M4 and then suddenly Solomon ran up.

“Get down!”
Solomon yelled as he pushed Parks to the ground.

A Soviet-style
Rocket-Propelled Grenade soared overhead, barely missing the two men. Solomon
and Parks stood up and began moving for the building but a dozen soldiers
blocked their path.

“Cut over here!”
Parks commanded as he led Solomon down a side street.

It was going to
be a detour but Parks prayed it wouldn’t deter them from reaching the
helicopters.

The two leaped
over a brick wall and saw several soldiers running at them from the front.
Thankfully, there was another small rock wall in front of Solomon and Parks and
they dropped behind it as the Lebanese soldiers fired upon them.

Both men took
turns raising their carbines and returning the fire. They both knew they
couldn’t stay there, but if they stood they would surely be cut down by enemy
gunfire. They had to fight it out.

“
Doesn’t all
this gunfire make you nervous?
” Solomon asked.

Parks squeezed
off five rounds and dropped back down behind the wall’s protection.

“No it doesn’t!”
he yelled back. “In the Marine Corps they say you never hear the one that kills
you! So as long as I keep hearing them, I’m fine!”

The firing
ceased and the two men popped their heads up to see if the way was clear.
Somehow they both knew it wasn’t but they were ready to take the risk and run
for it. They half-stood preparing to run. Then Parks heard a bullet slice past
him. He looked to Solomon and saw him collapse. Parks dove on top of him to
shield him.

“Solomon!” he
shouted. “Are you all right?” He knew he wasn’t but he couldn’t think of
anything else to say.

More fire came
from the opposite side of the wall and Parks returned it, dropping the
remaining soldiers.

“KP,” Solomon
managed to say.

Parks knelt
beside him. “Are you okay?”

Solomon held out
his fist. “Take care of yourself man.”

Parks punched to
meet Solomon’s fist and felt his emotions get the better of him. Then Solomon
went limp. “No!” Parks screamed in denial. Then he reacted. He shouldered both
M4s, and then tugged Solomon’s limp body over his left shoulder. It would be a
long way to fireman’s carry Solomon, but Parks wasn’t about to leave him there
alone.