The Demon Deception (12 page)

“What’s up?” Lazarus asked.

Sam smiled, “Recon time.”

“What, you don’t want to just drive up to the
cache site and hope that we don’t have any uninvited guests?”

Sam shook his head, “I think you know me
better than that.” He pulled out a topographical map of the area,
and began pointing out where the cache was, and how they would have
to drive into the cache site.

“So, you want both of us to go in and have a
sneak and peak before we drive in?”

Sam shook his head, “No, I think I can handle
this one. If you look here, this is the obvious, and only way that
we can get a vehicle into the cache site.”

He pointed out a logging road that ran
towards the valley where the cache was. The valley was flanked on
both sides by two spurs off of a ridge.

“If I was wantin’ to take us out, I’d have a
team, maybe two, of snipers in the bushes, waitin’ for coordinated
shots at us. That way, they can kill us both at the exact same
time. No place to hide if both sides of the car are covered.”

Lazarus conceded Sam’s logic.

Sam continued, “So, I’m thinkin’ that one
team would be right here, and the other would be right around
here.”

“What do you want to do about them?” Lazarus
asked.

“Well, I think that if I come in from the
backside, over here, I could go in and take a look around and see
if I see them, before they see me. I could go in over here, and
then you could drive around the opening of the valley, say, in
three hours, to give me a distraction to use against them.”

Lazarus thought about the plan. It was a good
plan, but he would prefer to back Sam up in the woods. Sam was good
in the woods, though. There was no better stalker for this kind of
work.

Stalking was not for the faint hearted. It
took a special skill set to move silently through the woods without
being seen or heard. Stalking wasn’t something that was taught in
the military, at least not to the regular infantry. Too often,
leaders were more interested in getting their infantry to a certain
location by a certain time, leading to the phrase, “movement to
contact.”

Movement to contact just meant that the
infantry walked until somebody started shooting at them. Then they
would react against whoever and wherever the shooting began. The
problem was, of course, the first guy gets shot at; if it was a
well thought out ambush, he usually didn’t walk away from the
initial contact.

Stalking was a different skill set, though.
Stalking involved an understanding of the psychology of your enemy
and woods skills to find your targets. In this case, that would be
the team or teams of snipers that might be in the woods waiting for
them. Stalking was a slow, laborious process. Quick movement would
get a man killed in that environment. Anything that attracted the
eye, or made a sound would get you killed just as quickly.

Lazarus nodded, but said, “Okay, we can do it
your way, but I’d feel better if you let the rain work its magic
for a while. Plus, I think it would be better for you if you wait
until visibility decreases, maybe after the sun goes down.”

Sam thought about it, “Yeah, okay, we can do
that. There’s a small Econolodge we can set up at. I can move out
of there, and you can watch TV until it’s time for you to cause the
distraction.”

“You brought night vision goggles?” Lazarus
asked.

Sam grinned, “Of course. What good Marine
would go anywhere without NVGs. It’s the latest in fashion
trends.”

Lazarus smiled, and nodded, “Okay, let’s
go.”

Sam started the Dodge, and they went to the
Econolodge. The Econolodge had seen better days. It was run down,
and there were only a few cars out front. The manager was surprised
to see them, but quickly took their money for the two adjoining
rooms. Lazarus made sure the rooms were at the back, close to the
woods so that Sam could slip out without being seen.

They pulled out their duffle bags and took
them into the rooms. When they got inside, Sam pulled out
everything he would need for the night time reconnaissance. He had
light boots, multicam pants and shirt. He had a boonie cap in the
same camouflage pattern. He pulled out camo cream for his face.

There was multicam gortex for the rain, but
he didn’t want to use that for the stalk. The swish of the material
moving back and forth would give him away. It was going to be a wet
night, but it would only be for a few hours. He would be cold and
wet, but better cold and wet, than dry and dead.

He pulled out a Heckler and Koch MP5 in 9mm.
The weapon was made for this kind of situation. It was silenced for
the subsonic 9mm rounds he was using, and the action was buffered
so that the sound of the bullets cycling through couldn’t be heard.
It was the perfect tool for in close wet work. He could quickly
dispatch one team then move to the other team. The only thing that
he had to worry about was the flash of the gunshots.

It was a few hours before he had to go out,
and he was going to be out late, so he decided to take a nap. He
racked out, and Lazarus was set to wake him an hour before it was
time for the recon. Lazarus went back to his room, turned on the
TV, and watched for a while before he became hungry. He took the
pickup truck out and bought some hamburgers from a local shack and
brought them back to the Econolodge. He bought four of them,
knowing that Sam would be hungry when he woke. Lazarus tried one,
and it was actually pretty good. The fries sucked though. He wash
it down with a coke. The first was so good, he decided to eat
another, saving the other two for Sam.

The hours passed. He kept looking at his
watch, but time was dragging. Finally, he looked at his watch, and
it was time. He walked next door, and banged on Sam’s door. Sam
opened the door and turned back into the room. Lazarus followed him
in. He sat the bag with the burgers on the table.

“What’s this?”

“Dinner. I hope you like cheeseburgers.”

“Who doesn’t like cheeseburgers?” Sam asked.
He pulled out one of the burgers and unwrapped it. It was lukewarm,
but it was better than nothing. He took a bite, “Hey, not bad.”

“Yeah, but the fries suck.”

Sam tried one, “Yeah, you’re right, they do
suck.”

Lazarus noticed that didn’t keep Sam from
eating the rest of them. The coke disappeared quickly as well.

Sam began getting dressed. “How cold is it?”
he asked.

“In the low fifties. It’ll be colder by the
time you finish.”

Sam nodded, “No problem. That’ll be perfect.
Is it still raining?”

Lazarus shook his head, “No, it stopped
raining about an hour ago. Just enough to make everything wet out
there.

Sam smiled, “Good. That should keep the noise
down.”

A look of concern crossed Lazarus’ face,
“Sam, are you sure you want to do it this way? I can go out as
well.”

Sam shook his head, “Naw, don’t worry. If
they’re out there, I’ll deal with it.” He noticed the look on
Lazarus’ face, “Don’t worry, Mom. If they have rear security, or I
think there’s too many, I’ll sneak back out, and we’ll figure out
something else. That’s if there’s even anyone out there.”

Sam added a kabar knife to his kit, a
multicam camalbak, and a gunslinger pouch that had extra magazines
in it. It also had a radio in it to call Lazarus. He put the
starlight monocular on.

“Okay, I’m ready.”

Lazarus walked to door, and opened it. He
stepped outside, pulled the door closed to keep anyone from seeing
inside, and stretched. He walked down the sidewalk, then walked
back to the room, looking around. There was no one moving outside.
They couldn’t be seen from the office. Lazarus opened the door,
stepped back to the room, and snapped his fingers. Sam ran directly
out of the room to the woods. He was inside the wood line in less
than two seconds. As soon as he entered the wood line, he couldn’t
be seen. Lazarus closed the door and waited.

----------------------------------------------------

Sam made it to the tree line, and walked into
the tree line away from the edge. He walked in about thirty feet.
He crouched down to look and listen, to see if there was anything
moving. He dropped the monocular over his non-firing eye, and
turned it on. He had an infrared laser on the MP5, but he didn’t
want to use it unless he had to. If there was somebody out there
with NVGs, the laser would give Sam’s position away.

When he was satisfied he was alone, he walked
slowly, getting used to the sound and smell of the forest around
him. The pine needles were quiet under his feet as he walked, the
rain water soaking everything so that there was no crackle left in
the vegetation. He walked quietly and slowly, testing every step
before he put his full weight down. He made slow time, but he was
very quiet. He fell into a rhythm and soon he was a ghost among the
trees. He moved from the shadow of one tree to another, avoiding
clearings, allowing him to blend into the darkness.

It took him a long time to move to the area
he was interested in. Stalking took time, the slower the better to
ensure that you saw or heard the other person first. Stalking was a
very deliberate skill. The stalker had to be patient.

It took him an hour to get to the area. He
began his sweep along the top of the ridge. He moved even slower
while making the sweep, looking for anything out of the ordinary.
He was looking for something that wasn’t natural, something that
would stand out. As he walked, he noticed that there was no rear
security. So, either there wasn’t anybody up there, or they weren’t
very professional. Still, he didn’t let down his guard. He kept
moving.

It took him a while, but then he saw the
shooter stretched out on the ground. The shooter had made one very
tiny, but very important mistake. He was wearing vibram soled
boots. It said so, on the bottom of his boot, with a big yellow
rectangle. Sam looked around, looking for the sniper’s spotter.
Usually sniper’s operated in teams of two, a sniper and spotter.
The spotter served two purposes. One, the spotter helped the sniper
figure out range, elevation, and wind. Second, he acted as the
sniper’s security, so that the sniper could concentrate on making
the shot.

Sam waited. He listened. He looked. He didn’t
see a second person anywhere. He moved closer. Now he was taking a
step every twenty seconds. When the sniper shifted, he would freeze
in position, sometimes staying there for a full minute, looking and
listening. Eventually, he closed to within ten feet of the shooter.
Sam began to worry. He was worried the shooter would sense him. Sam
had to think about what he did next. He could shoot, and possibly
give away the fact that he was hunting the shooters. The muzzle
flash would illuminate the surrounding vegetation, giving him away
if there was a second or third team. Or he could use the knife, and
hope that sounds of the struggle didn’t give him away. With the wet
vegetation, and since there was only one shooter, he really had no
choice. That gave him the edge when it came to stealth.

Sam slowly shifted the MP5 to his back, and
pulled the Kabar from the sheath. The guy was lying chest to the
ground, his back to Sam, and he was only ten feet away. That was
two, maybe three steps, then Sam would be on top of him. Sam took a
deep breath, and rushed forward. He landed on top of the shooter,
and stabbed down with the knife. The shooter struggled against the
sudden weight on his back. Sam heard the rush of air as he landed
and drove the air from the shooter’s lungs. He stabbed until he
felt the shooter go slack. Then he cut the shooter’s throat.

He knelt down, feeling around the shooter,
not willing to use a light. There was blood everywhere, but he
found what he was looking for. The shooter was wearing a microphone
strapped to his throat, and had an ear piece in his ear. Sam felt
around and found the line that ran to the radio on the shooter’s
harness. So, there were at least two, possibly more shooters in the
area.

Sam stopped and listened. He listened for
movement. He waited for ten minutes, and didn’t hear or see
anybody. He pulled out his radio, and very quietly said, “One
down.”

----------------------------------------------------

Lazarus waited for three hours, to give Sam
time to clear the area. Around two hours, he heard Sam say, “One
down,” over the handheld radio. This meant that, yes there was an
ambush in place, and there was more than one shooter, or sniper
team, out there. Now it was time for him to do his part. He climbed
into the Dodge, and cranked the engine. He put it in gear, and
drove out to the logging road. He took his time and drove slowly,
pretending he didn’t know where he was going and didn’t know where
to turn. He had to play this right, to give Sam a chance to take
care of whatever problems he might find out there.

The road was wet and the gravel loose with
mud. He put the pickup truck into four wheel drive. He turned the
bright lights on, to saturate the area with light. He hoped that
the bright lights might blind the shooters. He found the side road
that he needed, but drove past it, trying to give Sam more time. He
drove past about a mile, then turned around, and drove back.

Lazarus was conflicted. He hadn’t heard
anything from Sam. He didn’t know if he would be driving into a
trap. For all he knew, Sam was dead and bleeding in the forest. He
stopped at the entrance to the side road. He thought for a minute,
and made a decision: no guts, no glory. He would rely on Sam’s
capabilities. He turned onto the side road, and drove into the
valley.

----------------------------------------------------

Sam spent the better part of an hour
searching for the second sniper. He knew the guy was out here. It
wasn’t just the radio that Sam found that indicated this to him. It
was also an instinct that Sam had developed over the years. There
were only two places the guy could have set up for the shot. The
other shooter had to be in place to cover the other side of any
vehicle that drove into the valley. Sam covered the first area, but
he didn’t find anything. There was always the possibility that the
second shooter had heard the first kill and was now hunting Sam.
Sam was cautious, but that was always a possibility. Carefully, but
understanding that his time was running out, he made his way to the
second possible position.