Echo Six: Black Ops 6 - Battle for Beirut (20 page)

Guy came up beside him, his face bearing a look of concern. "We'll need to be even better than that, Boss. We'll be on our own, with no support from NATFOR in Brussels, and in the center of a nation with a huge army and a massive arsenal of modern weapons."

They stared at each other for a few moments. Goldstein finally chipped in.

"He's right. It'll be a bastard. Even so, I'm in. I've always had something of a romantic streak, and the idea of rescuing a damsel in distress appeals to me. Very Quixotic. It's something I've always wanted to do."

"Apart from sending your Mossad people updated intel on the Saudi defenses, and their level of preparedness."

Goldstein grinned. "That too."

"In that case, we'd better get going. Alpha Six can embark the hostages. We need to get out of here, find that bus, and get to the airfield, before Admiral Brooks finds out and tries to stop us."

He strolled over to Werner and told him they had further business to attend to. The German looked mystified, but he didn't explain further. He jogged back to his men, and together they moved off on the first part of their journey that would take them inside the formidable defenses of the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia.

Arar, Saudi Arabia

They must have put something in the food, a drug perhaps. At some time during the flight she'd fallen asleep, and now that she was awake her limbs felt heavy. Her mind was fogged too, and she couldn't focus. At first she didn't know where she was, until her head started to clear and she looked down at the thick, soft leather of her aircraft seat. She looked around the cabin at the luxurious paneling, and then the gentle hum of the turbofan engines reached her ears.

It all came to her in a rush. She was in a luxurious flying prison, on her way to a life of sexual slavery at the whim of the Saudi who'd bought and paid for her. She should be angry, but her mind was empty, as if it was full of cotton wool.

The elegant flight attendant walked up to her and smiled.

"We'll be landing shortly. Let me help you to the bathroom, and we can get you looking smart. Your new master will be coming out shortly, and he has high standards."

She allowed herself to be pulled to the surprisingly spacious bathroom where the girl helped her to wash, made up her face, and tidied her hair. When they emerged, the Saudi was waiting for her. A broad smile lit up his face.

"Welcome, my dear. You are very beautiful. My name is Sheikh Malik al Saif, and I am looking forward to us spending much time together."

She flinched as he touched her face, and then ran his hands down her body, feeling the curve of her hips and the swell of her breasts. He nodded approvingly.

"Yes, you will do very nicely. We shall have good times together, my Nava."

He nodded to the flight attendant, who led her back to her seat. She sat, bewildered at the way she felt. No, it was the way she didn't feel. She didn't feel anything at all.

The whine of the motors announced the undercarriage going down, and the Gulfstream dropped lower and gently touched down on the tarmac strip. Everything was going past her in a whirl, like viewing an out of focus filmstrip. The big bodyguard helped her down the airstair into the dry heat of the desert and back into the air-conditioned coolness of a big Mercedes limo. She sat with the bodyguard on one side and the flight attendant on the other. Al Saif climbed into a separate vehicle, a gleaming Rolls Royce. It led the way toward a vast structure, a fortified palace that seemed to materialize out of the haze, as if it was a dream. It was like a fairytale castle, an illusion of the shimmering desert.

But it was no illusion. They drove through a gateway protected by heavily armed guards. They wore a kind of desert camouflage paramilitary uniform, and although she was no expert, the weapons they carried looked new. As the cars passed through the gates, the guards closed them, and even though she didn't hear it, she felt a shiver as the heavy portals came together and shut out the world outside. She was locked inside.

The Mercedes drove around the building and halted at the rear. They helped her out, ushered her inside the building, and walked her along endless cool marble-floored corridors. The palace was decorated in traditional Arabic style, with elaborate scrolls and quotations from the Koran covering the walls, together with a number of classical paintings depicting famous Islamic figures.

They reached a stout wooden door with two heavy iron bolts. The bodyguard slid the bolts aside, and the flight attendant pulled her through. She expected it to be a room, or more likely a cell. Instead, it was a narrow marble staircase that led down into the bowels of the earth. When they reach the bottom, the bodyguard opened a door at the end of a short passage and pushed her inside.

It was a room of about twenty feet square. On one side there was a wide divan bed covered with silk sheets and pillows. On the other there was a table, rather like an examination table. It had a range of straps and chains fastened to it. She shuddered.

"The bathroom is through here," the flight attendant said, her voice low. She sounded sad, "I do hope you'll be comfortable."

She gave Nava a look, and it was obvious the girl was worried about leaving her in this place. It was much more than a cell. The table would form part of the sexual torture Sheikh al Saif planned for her. She trembled inside. The drug was beginning to wear off, and instead of numb acceptance, she felt adrenaline starting to surge inside. The bodyguard was nowhere to be seen, and she sidestepped the girl and raced for the door. As she went through it, the bodyguard appeared in front of her with a wide smile and lifted her off her feet. He took her back inside the cell and threw her on the bed. Without a word, he turned and went back outside.

"I have to leave you now," the girl said, "I do hope…look, I'm so sorry."

Nava could swear she saw a tear in the corner of the girl’s eye. There was fear there as well. Perhaps not all of al Saif's people were so happy about their employer’s activities. But then the girl left, and the door slammed shut. This was Saudi Arabia, and no matter how much she shouted or protested, in this country, women were without any kind of a voice. Slavery was a fact of life, as were the medieval practices of sexual cruelty and debauchery. She wanted to weep, and at first a few tears pricked her eyes. But then she dug her nails into the palm of her hand until the pain snapped her out of it.

She had set out a task for herself. She wouldn't submit; would never accept what they planned for her. She would fight until the bitter end. Even so, trying to stop the overwhelming feelings of hopelessness overcome her was a struggle. The dark, black blanket of doom had hovered over her, ever since they kidnapped her in Beirut. And then a thought materialized in the darkest recesses of her mind.

Talley. Does he know what’s happened to me?

It was unlikely, she admitted to herself. Except that Lieutenant-Commander Abe Talley was a man of extraordinary resources. She knew in her heart that if anyone could rescue her, it would be him. And he'd crawl on all fours across the desert to get her out, if that was possible. Then again, how could he know? No, somehow, she'd have to fight to survive, and get out of here. And if it were possible, she'd look for the bastards and punish them for what they'd done.

True, I may die here, in this godforsaken place. But I’ll never give myself to them willingly. Never! I’ll fight them, and keep on fighting.

* * *

The bus was riddled with bullet holes, the glass in the windows smashed. But the engine still ran, and Zaki took the wheel, steering them toward the airport at Zahle, and the de Havilland Twin Otter that would carry them to Arar. To Nava.

The vehicle lurched and rattled along the road. The mass of holes in the bodywork caused dust to force its way through the interior, so they had to tie scarves across their mouths to protect them from the grit that threatened to choke them. It hadn't been long since the torrential rain had stopped, but it was as if the parched earth had soaked up the moisture almost within minutes.

This damned country! It alternates between a soaking quagmire and an arid desert. Is there anything in between? Apart from death.

Drew Jackson shouted to him over the roar of the engine and the wind noise.

"I've got Admiral Brooks on the satcom, Boss."

Talley nodded and walked back through the bus to join him.

This had to happen, sooner or later.

"How does he sound?"

Jackson pulled a face. "I've known him happier."

"Okay, I'll take it." He picked up the handset. "Admiral, this is Talley."

"What the fuck do you think you're doing, Talley?" The voice was harsh and angry. As angry as he'd ever heard him.

"I'm continuing with the mission, Sir. The brief was to rescue the hostages."

The reply was like the crack of a whip. "The mission brief was to go in and get the Commissioner out, together with any hostages who were held with him."

"We didn't get them all, Sir. The job isn't finished."

"Really! How many hostages are left?"

There was no way to dress it up. "One, Sir."

"One. This hostage was part of the group held with the Commissioner?"

"Not exactly, Sir. But the same group were responsible for her kidnap."

"Her? Who is 'her', Talley? Is it the girl you went to find in Beirut?"

"Yes, Sir, she was taken during the battle inside Beirut. So the operation to bring out the hostages should include her."

"I don't agree. What's clear to me, Son, is you're facing a court martial when you get back. And that had better be soon. You have to forget about this nonsense."

They argued back and forth, but Brooks was no fool. It was as if he could read Talley's mind.

 
"You're set on this, there's nothing I can say to persuade you to call it off?"

"No, Sir."

A pause. "Being as the rescue helos have left, you've already screwed up what would have been a textbook operation. Where are you headed now?"

A pause. He didn't know how to make it sound good, so finally he said the words.

"Saudi Arabia."

There was a long silence on the line.

"Say again."

He repeated it.

"You can't operate inside Saudi Arabia, Talley. You know that."

There was only one course to take. Brooks’ tone made it clear he wasn't about to negotiate. The British hero Lord Nelson, at the Battle of Copenhagen, famously disobeyed an order from Admiral Hyde Parker to veer away from enemy ships. His method was to put a telescope to his blind eye and reply, "I see no ships."

It's time to be blind in one eye. Or deaf in one ear, anyway.

"I'm sorry, Sir. I can't hear. You're breaking up. I think there may be something wrong with the satcom. It must have been damaged during the fighting. I'll get back to you soon as I can."

He switched off and handed the handset back to Jackson.

"There's something wrong with it. I reckon we'll have to wait until we get home before we can fix it."

Jackson nodded. "Roger that."

He went back to the front of the bus. Something about Zaki Nassif worried him.

The man seemed convinced when Habeeb spelt out the fate of al Saif's kidnapped girls. Or was he?

Talley pretended not to notice, but the Lebanese kept darting glances around him, as if he was looking for something, some way out, and wondered if anyone had noticed. He explained his concerns to Guy.

"We need to watch him. He's up to something. I just don't know what."

"We can fly the aircraft ourselves if we have to bump him."

"That's true. But they're expecting Zaki Nassif, and when a stranger calls up on the radio, they'll suspect something's up. We'll just have to go along with him for now. But be ready for anything."

"We always are," he acknowledged grimly.

Talley stared into the distance as they reached the top of a rise, and he was able see the towers that held the approach control lights for Zahle airport. They were about five kilometers distant, across a wide, flat plain. He noticed Zaki glance at them nervously as he drove the bus toward their destination. They were only two kilometers away when he saw the reason.

It was a security checkpoint, but this was no ramshackle collection of burned out vehicles and broken furniture. It was a permanent control post, built of concrete, and with a reinforced barrier across the road. Obviously constructed to secure the approach to Zahle in what was an unstable region. More importantly, the road ran through a narrow gulley with steep walls either side. Circumventing the checkpoint would be impossible. Another look from Zaki, and he noticed the man was even more nervous, licking his lips and darting his eyes around.

So that's it. He knew it was here. This was his way out.

He was still making up his mind on how to deal with it when Zaki slowed.

"I have to stop at the guard post. There's no other way through."

Talley looked ahead at the guards, who even now were staring at them with undisguised interest. By now, the battered soccer bus would be on the BOLO bulletins, or whatever they used in this country.

"Keep going. You'll have to crash through the barrier."

The Lebanese slowed the bus even more, shaking his head. "I can't do that. The guards will open fire. I have to stop."

Talley snatched out his handgun and stood next to him, the barrel pressed to his head.

"I'll only tell you this once. If you stop the bus, I'll put a bullet through your brains. Clear?"

The man nodded, and Talley could see sweat dripping down his face. Maybe he was right to be nervous, the checkpoint looked solid and well defended. He went back up the bus and spoke to Vince and Jesse.

"I want you both at the front. We’re going to bust through the barrier. The more guards you can take out before we get there, the less a problem it'll be."

"Roger that."

Both men picked up their rifles and walked to the front. There was no need to make a firing loop, for most of the windows were already smashed. They knelt down almost shoulder-to-shoulder and started to prepare. The bus was only half a kilometer from the barrier when Vince looked up at him.