Black Flagged Apex (56 page)

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Authors: Steven Konkoly

BOOK: Black Flagged Apex
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According to Welsh, he'd made over a hundred trips out there, sometimes at night, and could drive it blindfolded. Several wrong turns later, Daniel was about to dump him on the side of the road when he finally spotted the dirt road off Route 590. Based on the numerous, recent tire tracks on the seemingly obscure, unmarked road, Daniel decided to give him a little more time. When he started calling out turns well in advance, they felt more confident that the man had found his way.

"How much further?" Munoz said.

"About another quarter mile. It's a pretty big place, you know," Welsh said, followed by a deep, guttural burp. "Sorry about that. The road is fucking with my stomach."

Daniel turned his head and met Jessica's glare. She didn't look happy to be seated next to Homer Simpson. Welsh's gaseous discharge refreshed the stale beer smell that had persisted in the SUV since he was stuffed into the back seat. Their short trip on the interstate had provided them with enough air turbulence to clear the stench, but they had no such luxury moving along at ten miles per hour on these roads. Daniel's handheld radio crackled and Graves' voice filled the van.

"We're picking up some faint wireless signals to the north. We should proceed on foot from here," he said, and Daniel acknowledged.

Munoz slowed the van in the middle of the road, blocking traffic in both directions. The Ford Transit stopped twenty feet behind them, depositing Fayed and Paracha.

"What kind of fence can we expect?" Daniel asked Welsh.

"I just hauled construction material up here. They didn't have a fence at that point."

"You think it's a quarter mile? Does this road run straight north?"

"Straight as an arrow," Welsh said.

"All right. Let's gear up," he said, and they all stepped into the damp Poconos air.

The operatives met between the two vans.

"Do the two of you mind keeping an eye on Mr. Welsh? We'll head about fifty meters into the forest and turn north toward the site," he said to Fayed and Paracha.

"No problem. We'll make sure nobody gets in or out. Our guys in the van are trying to access the security system. They're pretty sure we're dealing with cameras. High bandwidth wireless output," Fayed said.

"No motion detectors?" Munoz said.

"Not as far as our guys could tell. There might be a hardwired system close to the structure, but these are the only signals so far. I think we should move up another two hundred meters to be sure."

"We'll unload here and set out, while you reposition," Daniel said.

Munoz tossed the vehicle keys to Paracha, who snatched them out of the air.

"Mr. Welsh, Agents Paracha and Fayed will keep you company until we return. We should have you home in an hour or so. This is probably just a wild goose chase, but you never know. You'll be safe here," Daniel said.

He turned and walked to the Cherokee's rear lift gate, raising it to expose two black nylon duffel bags. He pulled out dark green load-bearing vests (LBV) for the four operatives that would approach the compound. The vests had been loaded with thirty-round magazines for the Mark 18 Mod 0 rifles each of them would carry. The Mark 18 was a modified M-4 carbine, fitted with a more compact 10.3-inch barrel, which was better suited for close quarters battle. These preselected versions had been equipped with EOTech holographic sights. Welsh nearly stumbled off the road when Daniel started to distribute the rifles.

"Fuckin' A, man. What are you expecting in there? Osama Bin Laden?" he said, clearly amused with his own comment.

Worse
, Daniel thought. Aloud, he said, "Never hurts to be prepared."

Melendez reached into the same duffel bag and removed a thick suppressor, attaching it to the barrel of his rifle. He had already removed the EOTech sight, preferring to trust the iron sights for any long-range shots that might need to be taken. He would be their designated sharpshooter during the compound breach. All of them removed their black jackets and donned hunter camouflage-patterned hoodies and ball caps, also compliments of Walmart. Once they had tightened the LBVs over the camouflage hoodies, they all adjusted their earpieces and conducted a communications check. Everyone would be on the same channel for the raid, including the electronics team. Satisfied that they were ready, Daniel assembled them on the side of the road.

"Melendez, I want you on point. Pick a spot roughly fifty meters out and head due north. The rest of us will follow twenty meters back. Line abreast formation. Jess on the right, Munoz on the left. I got the middle. When we reach the fence, if there is one, we'll breach together. Sound good?"

Everyone nodded, and Melendez removed a small handheld GPS unit, which he quickly configured as a compass. Moments later, their scout disappeared into the thick forest.

"We look like hillbillies. I can't believe our friend hasn't figured it out yet," Jessica whispered.

"He's still about seven Pabst Blue Ribbons away from sober. We could have shown up in clown suits. We're just lucky he found this place," Daniel said.

"You get to ride with him on the way back."

"Thanks," he said.

They pushed their way through the persistent ground cover to catch up with Melendez.

The approach to the compound proved difficult. Stubborn, newly grown underbrush obscured their vision, nearly eliminating any clear line of sight beyond twenty or thirty feet. Upon repositioning the vehicles, Graves was able to fix the locations of four wireless signals, none of which were located in the team's path. Graves felt confident that the signals belonged to four wireless cameras located along the road. He still couldn't discount the possibility of a fence-linked motion detection system. At this point, security for the compound appeared to consist of four separate wireless feeds, which weren't tied to a central system. There was little Graves could do to help them without a computer network to manipulate. If the fence was hardwired into a standalone security alarm, they could expect immediate resistance.

Forty minutes into their patrol, Melendez reached a point where he could observe the fence. They all moved into a tight formation around Melendez and surveyed what they could see of the grounds. Daniel could see a tall chain-link fence topped with a single coil of concertina wire. It was difficult to tell from his angle, but it looked like the fence backed right up against the forest. Large branches appeared to rest on the concertina wire in a few places, flattening the coils. This basic observation convinced him that the fence was neither electrified, nor rigged with motion detection equipment. The constantly moving branches would have shorted the fence and driven security personnel insane with false alarms.

"Looks like about fifty meters of open ground," he said.

"Maybe a little less. I don't see any cameras mounted to the building, but I'd need to get closer to verify. Too many blind spots from here," Melendez said.

"All right. Let's move up to the fence and observe for a few minutes. Keep low."

The small group slithered through the brush on the forest floor to a point along the fence. Now Daniel could see everything. Devoid of windows, the building's frontage spanned over one hundred feet. Two black Suburbans, parked side by side, faced a closed loading bay at the far eastern end of the building. Daniel couldn't see a gate from his angle, but he could discern a well-worn driveway leading away from the loading bay. A single, closed metal door was located to the right of the loading bay, made accessible by a short concrete slab stairway. The building's walls were constructed of featureless, gray cinderblocks, holding up what appeared to be a flat, metal roof. He could discern no pitch whatsoever to the roof, which struck him as unusual given the vast size of the one-story building. If the interior craftsmanship resembled anything close to the lackluster exterior appearance, Honesdale Construction owed Mr. Mills about four million dollars.

"I don't see any cameras," Munoz said.

"Neither do I," Jessica said.

"I think we should move down the fence until we can see the western side of the building. If it's clear, Melendez will provide cover while we move to the corner. Melendez follows when we reach the building. We'll then move along the exterior to the back," Daniel said.

He passed the plan over his radio to Fayed, while Melendez and Jessica cut the fence with powerful, short-handled tin snips. Once the fence was opened, Daniel slipped through and sprinted for the corner of the building, followed closely by Jessica and Munoz. Daniel moved a few feet down the western side of the building, keeping his rifle's red holographic sight trained along the structure. He heard Jessica and Munoz pile into position behind him, followed by Munoz's voice in his earpiece. Melendez joined them a few seconds later and moved swiftly in front of Daniel, continuing his job as the team's point man.

Melendez extended his arm and held an open palm to Daniel as they approached the northeast corner of the building. At the sight of Melendez's hand, the rest of them stopped and crouched. He watched the young sniper approach the corner carefully, removing his camouflage baseball cap before taking a quick look along the northern wall. By Daniel's rough estimation, the side they had just traversed matched the front of the building in terms of length. The only difference between the two sides had been the complete absence of any openings on the eastern facade. They had just slid silently along a blank cinder-block slate.

Daniel removed his own cap and tossed it to the ground, waiting for Melendez's assessment. Their point man backed up against the wall and crouched. He pointed to his own eyes with his index and middle fingers ("I see"), then held his hand up showing three fingers, keeping his ring finger down along with his thumb ("seven"). The next hand signal indicated they were "enemy," accomplished by a simple thumbs-down. Finally, he stretched his arm upward and formed a pistol shape with his index finger and thumb, representing "rifles." Seven men armed with rifles. Not something you'd expect to find in the middle of the Poconos on a Sunday afternoon. He recalled Melendez.

"What are they doing?" he whispered.

"Digging. I see several bodies nearby. All of the weapons were slung around their backs. I did see a few with just pistols. No body armor. Everyone's dressed casually."

Jessica leaned in to hear what they were saying, while Munoz kept his rifle pointed at the front corner.

"Who were they burying?" Jessica asked.

"I saw a few lab coats stained bright red. The others looked like the gunmen. Looks like a cleanup job," Melendez said.

"Yeah. Tying up more loose ends. I need to get a look at the situation," Daniel said.

Daniel switched places with Melendez and crawled to the corner, easing his head toward the edge. As his view expanded, the stretch of ground between the northern fence line and the rear of the building took on a disturbing familiarity to another time and place. A different life. Men smoking cigarettes, their instruments of murder tossed casually over their shoulders. Nervous laughter. Nobody quite sure who might end up in the ground. In that other time and place, men like these rarely did the digging. That was reserved for the desperate victims that had somehow convinced themselves they were digging a hole for someone else. He watched the men in front of him carefully.

Only five of the men sank shovels into the soft ground near the fence. The other two stood behind them, conversing and laughing. He counted five AR-15-type rifles equipped with optics slung over the diggers' backs. The two "supervisors" carried pistols in tactical thigh rigs. Melendez had missed the fact that one of them carried an MP9 submachine gun on his left side. Admittedly, it was hidden from view. Daniel burned the image in his mind and returned to their tight group pressed against the cinderblock.

"Burial party. The five men armed with rifles are occupied with digging. Unfortunately, they're more or less facing this direction. The other two have their backs turned. One with a pistol. The other with a pistol…and an MP9. You're slipping, Rico," he said, patting Melendez on the back.

"The usual plan?" Munoz whispered, never looking away from the far corner.

"In this case, I don't think we can afford to improvise," Daniel said.

"Do you mind sharing with the rest of us?" Jessica said.

"I forgot that you ditched most of these classes. We bag two of them. Highest ranking and lowest ranking. The rest are targeted for rapid termination. The leader knows the most, but is willing to say the least. The follower knows the least, but is willing to say the most. The two usually hate each other. We play them off each other," Daniel said.

"What if they all go for their guns?" Melendez said.

"Then we have ourselves a good old-fashioned shootout. Gunfight at the OK Corral," Daniel said.

"I'm your huckleberry," Munoz said.

"See? He does have a sense of humor, Rico," Jessica said.

"I never said you didn't have a sense of humor," Melendez insisted.

Munoz turned and grinned. "Let's just get this over with."

"Rico and Jessica shoot from the corner. You and I will sprint along the back wall, focused on the two men with pistols. We'll hit the guy with the MP9 and try to force the other guy to surrender. The two of you will tear into the digging crew. We'll be yelling for them to drop their weapons as we move. If you see hands raised skyward, keep them covered until we swing into place behind the group. Less than seventy-five feet to targets. Good to go?" Daniel said.

"Sounds easy enough. We'll pop two of them and see what happens," Melendez said, nodding at Jessica.

Daniel and Munoz stacked up on the corner. As soon as they disappeared, Jessica and Melendez would take their place and start to engage targets. He edged up to the corner and took a quick peek, exposing less than an inch of his head to allow his right eye to verify that the scene looked the same. Nothing had changed, so he nodded. Less than a second later, he felt a solid squeeze on his right shoulder, indicating that the team was ready. He checked the M4's safety one more time out of habit and spun around the corner, sprinting along the wall. He wanted to get as far as possible before anyone noticed.

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