Echo Six: Black Ops 6 - Battle for Beirut (12 page)

“I thought you were in command of NATFOR, Sir. It’s your decision to make, surely.”

Another loud sigh, “Technically, you’re right. Politically, it would be suicide to send another NATFOR unit into the Lebanon. The last I heard, people see the business of going into a Hezbollah refugee camp as a one-way trip.”

He chuckled. “That's not part of the plan, Sir. We go in, and we come out, but we don’t have long. The backup unit will have to be in the air in the next three hours."

“I know that. I’ll get back to you inside of two hours. Brooks out.”

The soldier’s lot is to wait, and then wait some more. Hours, sometimes days of boring inaction before something happens. And then it could all be over in minutes. The waiting was the hardest to endure. Especially when someone you loved was suffering for every second of that wait. He made an attempt to use the time with something useful. Preparation could and did win battles, wars even. So he went from man to man, talking to them, checking their gear, anything to occupy his mind, until Domenico Rovere forced him to stop. He walked up to him with a smile, and Talley prepared himself for one of the Italian’s eternal diatribes of Shakespearean wisdom.

“Boss, you know what the Bard said?”

“I don’t, but I know you’re going to tell me.”

“Of course I am. ‘Time is very slow for those who wait, very fast for those who are scared, very long for those who lament, very short for those who celebrate. But for those who love time is eternal’. We’ll get her out.”

He stared at Rovere. “You don’t know that, Dom. If they sell her to this mysterious Saudi, he could spirit her away, and you don’t know what he’ll do to her.”

“I can imagine, but we'll get her out. We always get them out.”

“Alive?”

He shook his head. "Not all the time. But we have a full complement of men, air support on the way, and with any luck, we’ll get Charlie Six to stage a convincing diversion.”

“Sir! Admiral Brooks is back on the secure commo.”

He went over and took the handset.

“Talley? The UAV is taken care of. It’ll be in the air after dark, and I have a backup-unit about to emplane. They’ll parachute in after dark. I’ll need the coordinates for your LZ.”

“That’s good news, Sir. You’re sending Charlie Six?”

“Not exactly. They hit a couple of problems, so I sent the only other available unit. There was nothing else, Talley.”

He waited.

What's on the Admiral’s mind?

After a short pause, Brooks continued, “Alpha Six will be on the ground by 2200 hours.”

No!

Of all the NATFOR units, it was Alpha who had a reputation. Not for professionalism, although they were known to be skilled fighters. They’d earned their reputation for brutality. It was difficult to unravel what happened during 'behind the lines' operations, often impossible. The missions took place behind a necessary veil of secrecy. In the case of Alpha, their infamy originated from their personnel turnover, which was extraordinarily high. The men who left the unit usually expressed their disbelief at the sheer savagery of the Alpha Six troopers. So far, they’d avoided any serious problems and had survived two formal investigations. But now, he’d have to work with them. He heard Brooks speaking.

“I’m sorry, Sir, what was that?”

“I said you’re the senior man, Talley. Your rank puts you in the driving seat; so don’t take any funny business from those guys. I’ve heard the stories. But remember, for the task you have in mind, they’re the perfect outfit. They’re tough and resourceful, and they get the job done.”

“I’ll bear that in mind, Sir.”

I’ll also have to live with the consequences of the collateral casualties. The chances are when Alpha finish their diversionary attack, there won’t be much of Masnaa left standing; and outside, a bunch of furious Muslims shrieking for revenge for the deaths of their loved ones.

He called for Rovere to join him. “They’re dropping in a second unit tonight. We need to go over the LZ.”

“That’s good news, Boss,” He looked sideways at Talley’s expression, “Although you don’t look happy about it. Who’re they sending, al Qaeda?”

He smiled. At least he could count on the Italian to lighten his mood.

“Almost as bad. Alpha Six.”

“Christ, the butchers. Wasn’t there something about them exploding a mine underneath the Moroccan Presidential Motorcade?”

“Not Morocco, but yeah, that was Alpha Six. Although their target was handing out RPG7s to the local insurgents like candy bars. Our masters frown on that kind of in-your-face attack. Machine-gunning the medics really upset them.”

“The rescuers were local jihadis, Boko Haram, as I remember. They said it was a golden opportunity."

“Maybe, but they were part of the Presidential entourage, so they were under his protection. The problem with Alpha Six is they’ll shoot anything that moves."

"We may need that kind of approach for this one, Boss," Rovere said thoughtfully.

"Maybe."

* * *

They walked over the LZ, a wide open area surrounded by stunted olive trees and a few piles of masonry strewn around, probably the remains of the cottages belonging to the farmers who had once tended the trees. Talley called the GPS coordinates back to Jackson, to be sent on to the unit en route and about to parachute in. Alpha Six. He'd accepted there was no choice but to work with the NATO bad boys. Besides, it was likely their particular brand of savage brutality would be needed to rescue the hostages from the Masnaa camp.

There was something else that worried him. His right arm was already beginning show signs of increasing numbness. If he were forced to step down, it would mean the Alpha Six commander, Captain Werner Best, would assume command of the entire operation as senior officer. At a stroke, Echo Six would be under the control of a Teutonic savage, and the chances of getting the hostages out alive would be substantially reduced. When Alpha Six assaulted a target, collateral casualties were the least of their concerns.

He worked to improve circulation, pummeling his shoulder with his left hand. Rovere looked at him curiously.

"Something wrong, Boss?"

"A bit stiff, that's all." He tried to make a joke of it, "I guess I've had one bullet wound too many. Next time, I'll duck."

"Good idea," the Italian replied, but Talley noticed his look. The Lieutenant wasn't stupid. He would have to be more careful to hide the problem.

They started walking back toward the quarry when they heard a vehicle approaching, a small car, and not the noisy engine of Goldstein's VW bus. Nor was it the diesel engine of a truck.

"Get under cover. This could be trouble," he snapped. They dived behind a heap of broken rock, and he keyed his mic. "Vehicle incoming. Everybody stay out of sight, and get ready to blast them if they're the enemy. "

A chorus of voices shouted, "Copy that."

He could see through a gap between two rocks. The putter of a tiny gas engine proved to be from an old Citroen, the 2CV model. It was painted bright orange, with an orange and white striped canvas canopy.

"If that's Hezbollah, I'm a Chinaman," Rovere murmured.

As it drew nearer, they could see the occupants, two teenage boys in the front seat and two girls in the back. He cursed. There was only one reason for them to come out here, to do the kind of things they couldn't do in their own neighborhood, with their parents breathing down their necks. It meant they could be there for some time, and if their visit went into the night, it would threaten the arrival of Alpha Six. The last thing they needed was for lovelorn teenagers to rush back to the city and inform Hezbollah of the arrival of parachutists.

The Citroen braked to a stop almost in the center of the LZ, and the four kids climbed out. They looked around for a short time and seemed to be arguing about something. One of the boys grabbed the girl and planted a huge kiss on her lips, and she squealed, twisting away. She shouted something at him, but they couldn't make it out. Then they climbed back into the car and drove off.

"Thank Christ for that," Rovere exclaimed, "If those kids were still camped out there when Werner Best's unit dropped in, they'd have shot them dead."

He nodded. "That's their reputation, but maybe they've changed. God knows they've had enough warnings. Some say Werner Best is worse than Buchmann, much worse.

Domenico gave him a skeptical look. "Do you know Werner?"

"I've met him." Talley recalled the erect, Teutonic German. He was invariably cold and precise; the impression he gave was of a man who had little time for levity.

"He has the same name as his grandfather," Rovere continued. "Werner Best Senior was
SS-Obergruppenführer and Civilian Administrator of Nazi occupied Denmark. A total, one hundred percent committed Nazi. He was at the Nuremberg trials after the war, they sentenced him to death, although it was afterward reduced to five years in prison."

"He sounds like a real bastard, but that doesn't mean the grandson is as bad."

"Except he always maintained his grandfather was innocent. He insists the murders he committed during World War II were a legitimate part of his duties."

"So he's not a bleeding heart liberal?"

Rovere smiled. "The only bit you got right was the bleeding. When Werner Best goes into battle, blood flows in torrents."

Talley grimaced. "I'll bear it in mind. I'm in command of the operation, and I'll spell out the Rules of Engagement, so he's clear from the word go."

* * *

By early evening there was still no sign of Welland and Gonzalez, with the much-needed transport to take them to Masnaa. They finally arrived at 2030 hours; Goldstein came in first in his distinctive VW minibus. He braked to a halt and climbed out of the cab. Talley walked out to meet him.

"Where are Guy and Raul?"

"It's okay. They're a few minutes behind me."

"Did you manage to locate some transport?"

He shook his head. "Not what we wanted. The city is in total chaos, and there are checkpoints everywhere. We couldn't get near the center, so we had to take what we could find on the outskirts."

As he finished speaking, they heard the sound of another engine approaching. But before they could see the vehicle the rain started, and their vision was almost completely blotted out. They were twenty meters from the nearest building, and they raced to escape from the worst of the deluge. They were soaked by the time Raul drove in with Guy in the passenger seat. The vehicle was a small Peugeot truck with a closed back. He turned to Goldstein.

"Dammit, that's almost useless. I doubt we'll get more than a half-dozen men in that thing. We need to transport forty."

The two men climbed out of the Peugeot and ran inside to shelter from the rain.

"It's the best we could do, Boss," Guy apologized, beginning to wipe the moisture from his assault rifle, "We were lucky to get that. You wouldn't believe how bad it is in the city. If Beirut gets any worse, it'll be just like the old days, worse maybe."

"This means we'll have to use the bus."

"It may not be such a problem," Goldstein intervened, "It will be dark, and the roads will be mainly empty. We'd have to deal with the checkpoints no matter which vehicle we're in. If it continues to rain, it'll make it more difficult for them to see us coming."

"Until we're forced to stop." Talley shook his head, watching the torrential rain hammering down outside. The entire operation was looking doubtful. It was shaky enough before, but there were too many variables entering the equation. Werner Best's Alpha Six was an unknown factor. And although the weather would hinder visibility for the hostiles, it could also make rapid movement for them almost impossible.

* * *

Jackson called him at 2220 hours. "The aircraft is close, Boss. They're standing by to jump right now, and Captain Best asked for a patch through to our commo channel."

"Do it, Drew. ETA is the same, 2230?"

"That's affirmative."

They'd set up a defensive perimeter around the LZ, just in case. The rain still hammered down, and every man was hunkered down under the best cover they could find. He heard a new voice in his earpiece.

"Echo One, this is Alpha One. Do you receive?"

"You're strength five, Alpha One. Good to hear from you."

A noise, it could have been a grunt. "We're jumping now. We'll be on the ground in eight to ten minutes. Our aircraft is flying through a rainstorm."

"Weather conditions on the ground are the same, Captain. You're in for a wet ride."

Another grunt, and then someone shouted, "Vehicle coming in."

Shit! If Hezbollah are about to pay us a visit, they'll catch Alpha Six at its most vulnerable.

"It's the lovebirds," Rovere exclaimed, "Back for some nooky, no doubt."

He keyed his mic. "Everyone, stand down. They're no threat. Just watch them."

He smiled to himself,
I sound like a voyeur
.
Whatever just don't shoot them!