When Diplomacy Fails . . . (12 page)

Got to leave
, he thought. Not physically. He couldn’t. That sensation, though, that crazy, mind-warping sensation, he’d felt that before and it hadn’t been bad.

Sticks smashed under his armpits and across his shoulders. He passed out again.

He woke slightly and heard, “Shit, I think this pervert enjoys it,” accompanied by a thumping blow to his groin. He grunted out breath. Yeah, he actually was erect. Apparently the distraction worked.

I probably shouldn’t tell Caron about that, he thought.

He settled for keeping his eyes closed, easy through the bruises, and breathing slowly and steadily, tough to do through his battered nose and painful as the air flowed over his wounded teeth. Apart from that, his whole body was a quivering nerve, aware of every current of air, every gradation of temperature, every bruise, fracture, laceration and contusion. He found he wasn’t worried about getting hit again; that was just part of this reality. He’d ride the wave of pain and appreciate the surreal sensation, and let that take his brain back to Caron and Ayisha, their full, painted lips colliding around him, with each other, tongues swirling . . .

Yes, someone had hit him, he vaguely realized. He’d blacked out from the pain. Pain, shooting up his spine, just like that sensation when he looked over to see Caron, mouth open and tongue probing, curiously and nervously . . .

The intense jolt made him scream, the pain was in his hip, his muscles cramping up in gripping waves, tight under his balls, and . . .

“I swear this sick fucker is getting off on being hit. Either I kill him or we stop.”

“He’s not really of use. Hit harder.”

The next blow broke his focus. Ohshitfuckmebitch that hurt. Shooting hand. Writing hand. Hand I used on Caron to . . . to . . .

A rain of blows with a hammer started at his feet, ankles and shins, working toward his knees. He could feel tears streaming down his face. He wanted release even if it meant death, because he knew he was crippled, probably going to be emasculated, and left in a heap in a gutter, probably set on fire to twitch and scream, and these fuckers called him a pervert. He was going beyond anything he’d ever imagined, and this wasn’t real, except it was, and Caron’s ass was amazingly toned and taut and . . .

CHAPTER 11

TWO OTHER GRUMBLIES
arrived mounting guns. They were followed momentarily by two armored hex-wheels. Four machine guns, a grenade launcher and a multicannon were not artillery, but were more than enough for this street. The civilians were surprisingly scarce, having cleared the outside entirely, and probably all hunkered down inside.

An officer swung out easily, in gray splinter camo. That was reassuring. Not only wasn’t it the insane pink, it was private purchase. That meant they weren’t too hung up on Military Instructions, hopefully.

“You’re Marlow?” He was a captain, lean and fit, seemed competent and that scowl was probably permanent. He was an older careerist, face a bit craggy.

Alex said, “Yes.”

“Captain Jay Roye.”

“Glad to meet you; thanks for being fast.”

“Yeah, we’ll cover that later. You have one MIA?”

“Correct. Here’s his info.” He’d have to make sure to recover that later, under BuState privacy laws. For now, he needed to save Aramis.

“Any leads?”

“They didn’t tell you? The same explosive trace you followed should continue.”

“Stand by.” The captain raised a hush hood and spoke to base. They spoke back. He spoke some more.

Alex clenched his jaw and took slow, measured breaths through the anger thudding through him. There was nothing he could do to speed up the process, and any complaints might hinder things. It was almost a full minute before the captain spoke.

“It goes north. Intersperse and follow.”

Bart said, “I will take second position.”

Roye agreed, “Good, do it.”

They found a lieutenant suddenly holding the door for Shaman and Elke, and sliding in behind them. Or he tried to. Elke arranged for him to step in as she slid under, taking the door herself.

“Lieutenant Eranio,” the man said. “I have a briefing summary for you.”

“Go ahead, sir,” Alex said, hoping he sounded polite and interested. Eranio came across as prior enlisted. He wore big glasses and had that scraggle that suggested he’d always be in need of a shave.

Eranio said, “For joint operations in the AO with contract personnel, Military Instructions are in force, and the on-scene military commander will determine operations within standard guidelines. All Law of Armed Conflict and Conventions Pursuant to Hostile Engagements are to be observed. Contractor personnel will limit their activities to observation and reporting, or noncombat support activities as described in MI Two-Five Dash Seven One Nine Bravo. End quote. The captain will not allow you to proceed without acknowledging this.”

“Not only do I acknowledge it, I leave the engagement to you,” he said. Would they take the bait?

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“Our specialty is getting people into cover, and as you’ve said, there are Instructions that must be followed. There are undoubtedly multiple hostiles waiting.”

Eranio said, “I understand what you mean.” In moments, he had a hush hood up, and was talking to the captain. Alex was sure of that, because the model was cut rate and didn’t have a shimmer screen. Alex could read lips. They thought it was a shameless attempt to pass casualties and possible blame onto the military.

The lieutenant dropped the hood and said, “Given the nature of the incident, and that it’s your agent who’s the captive, we’ve been instructed from higher up to have you conduct the raid.”

Thank you, Captain Das.

Straight-faced, he said, “If you believe that’s best.”

“No, I’d rather we did it, but I have instructions. You will conduct the entry, we will support and observe, and document.”

There were too many snide comments Alex wanted to make, so instead, he nodded and turned.

“Bart, you’ll punch. Elke, can you make a hole?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Jason takes gun position. Shaman and I follow.”

Elke turned to face the lieutenant. “I need real explosives. Now,” she said.

“That is beyond my authority to grant.” He turned to his phone, but hesitated when the driver slowed.

Jason said, “This is as far as we could trace. We have to dismount and sniff now.”

“You have a sniffer?”

Jason said, “One, yes.”

Eranio twisted his mouth for a moment and said, “We’ll use ours.”

Elke opened the door and slid out; Eranio followed. His troops pulled up right behind and hopped out in a reasonably professional fashion. He immediately gave orders.

“I want one troop with each contractor. Moheng, with this guy, Franklin with the big German, Trinidad with the female, Barnes with the doctor. I’ll stay with Marlow.”

Alex nodded and bounced out the door. They could talk as they moved. “Do you have troops who can follow in our vehicle in case we need a quick departure?”

Eranio nodded, pointed at one troop and the Grumbly, and indicated the other driver was to remain aboard his vehicle.

Elke was alongside at once and said, “Lieutenant, I need explosives. I am certified all the way through nukes, and expect a dynamic entry. I will file all documents and our company will reimburse promptly.”

The captain approached, and had obviously overheard. “I can’t authorize that.”

“Then I will use what I have—homebrewed RDX, aluminized AN-nitro dynamite and some rather smoky flash bangs. Unless you want to waste resources restraining me, and breach the door yourself?”

“Goddam you.” He looked at Alex, not Elke, and said, “All right, I’ll give her a couple of door poppers and they can each have a flash bang. Will that do it?”

She smiled thinly. “Crude and marginal, but I will make it work.”

“I’m only doing this because I don’t want the admin of a dead civilian. But you arrogant
contractors
need to abide by your own rules. We’re cleaning up your mess.”

Jason burned in rage, but calmly said, “We appreciate it, and will work out details later. Thank you for assisting in recovering our man.”

“Don’t thank me. You can take the risk and lead the way in. Remember the lawyers will have your balls for breakfast if you kill any civilians.”

They were talking instead of acting, but they’d been given something they wanted. Was it a favor, or an error? Either way, Alex would take it. They were better at kicking in doors than most of the military, had motivation, and could let lawyers deal with the carnage. Meyer would back them as he had before.

“Then let’s proceed. What intel do we have?”

Eranio consulted with a sergeant holding a chemical sniffer. “Traces are inconsistent. He’s within two hundred meters or so.”

Alex looked around.

“There’s a lot of structure within two hundred meters. What can we rule out?”

The lieutenant was probably being helpful when he said, “You can rule out the law office and the UN aid office.”

Alex avoided snorting, and he heard Jason cough. It wasn’t really funny, but the surprise factor did it. Depending on what other evidence they found, those might be exactly where they’d start.

The Army’s technical specialist said, “Definitely north.”

“Concur,” Jason said. “Map shows several storefronts. Some are substantial, but all have storage areas.”

The sergeant, Tames, said, “That wind gust helped. Got the arc down to forty-three degrees.”

“Overlay,” Jason said. “I have forty-six, but the intersection is thirty-eight.”

“That tall building is interfering.”

“Yes, definitely beyond that.”

Elke said, “Your area is approximately seven five zero zero square meters. Sergeant Tames, if you can move thirty meters north to the corner, check your density there.”

The captain nodded, and the sergeant with two second classes moved that way, checking for threats.

Tames said, “Probably east of me here.”

Jason moved down an alley, Alex and Bart covering him along with their escorts.

A burst of fire made Jason flinch and duck.

He said, “Contact right front,” as someone else shouted, “Contact left!”

Whoever was shooting had bad aim and poor weapons. He recognized the muzzle cracks as Brasarms carbines. There were lots of them here, sold cheap for police use and stolen for factional fighting. They were cheap, and marginal, and cheap. However, they put bullets downrange, and he was downrange. He hunkered down against a building wall and crabbed around into an alley. He went across the alley. Bart backed into the opening, facing the street. Their troop escorts did stay close, and tensed with their weapons.

He spoke to his chaperone. “I want to suppress and advance.”

The sergeant looked around nervously, then nodded. “Agreed.”

“I’m moving.” He swung, fired a burst, sprinted across the narrow alley, which had suddenly devoided of people. He reached the far wall, fired a burst straight up parallel to it, and another high around the corner, as the soldier sprinted over.

Heavy fire from a Grumbly’s cannon echoed down the walls, booms turning tinny and hollow.

The troop said, “It’s apparently some random potshots. Three locations, not coordinated, seem to be dispersed.”

“What does the captain say?”

Right then, his earbuds spoke. “Argonaut, Playwright. Bars reports containment. Advise your movements.”

“One square red.”
South
. “I can advance.”

“He’s ready,” Alex said to Rowe as he came up. “Unless you want to sweep and secure first?”

“What’s your preference?”

“Hell with that, let’s get in and get Aramis, then we can operate as a mass unit.”

The captain nodded. “Yeah, since you fuckers are going to do that anyway. Lead, then.”

There were no overt signs of previous combat in this area, which was probably why it had been chosen. Ground of the enemy’s choosing was not ideal, but they should have the upper hand tactically.

“Do you have observation all around?”

“Cameras on three Grumblies, two Dragonfly drones at five hundred meters, and the evac bird three klicks north.” Rowe gestured with a hand.

“We have the south approach. Do you have anything for containment?”

“Same Grumblies and crews.”

“I would like to have them dismount and patrol, sir.”

“Very well, stand by.”

He’d give the captain this: the man took it seriously and was playing by the rules but with practicality.

“They’re dismounted and advancing slowly,” Rowe said.

Alex spoke on his voicemitter. “Team, we want to be dynamic and watch for collaterals. I’m quite sure they’ve got buddy berms. Approach orders from the captain. Sir?” he said as he turned.

Rowe said, “Thank you, by my orders, advance in leapfrog.”

Alex waited for the first movement, then he and the captain jogged forward. There was no fire, and people left the streets as soon as they saw troops with guns. Of course, that meant a good chance the enemy knew they were approaching.

Then it was time to advance again, past doorways, alleys and enclosures locked or barred or full of pedestrians. Vehicles traveling by accelerated to clear the area. Passing a woman and three kids huddled into an entryway, he gave a short, quick wave. Hopefully they’d grasp that they weren’t of military interest.

This was an actual military assault, and he sweated and shook. Aramis had experience doing this. On paper, Alex had no actual combat experience. All his was escorting principals to safety, and the only rule of engagement was “keep them alive.” Here, he was very much accountable, easier to predict, and the principal was not under his control. Getting that control risked Aramis’s death.

Still, there was nothing to do but go forward.

Then they were across the street and huddled themselves, trying not to present targets or recognizable military appearances.

Elke came alongside and he asked, “Are we positive it’s this building?”

She waved a scanner. “Yes, I can pick up a second trace, of a secondary chemical. This building.” She nodded.

“What’s in there, officially?”

The captain said, “Paradise Clothing. They seem to make garb for Muslims and Christians both, middle class.”

“Track the owner later. What do we have on intel?”

“Right now it looks like people sewing. I’m reluctant to deploy drones. They’ll be obvious in this environment.”

They’d also be subject to damage and loss, which he’d have to account for. Though that might not be fair. They would be easy to spot. There was little airborne traffic of any kind.

Elke said, “Let me take a scan.” She unslung her shotgun and fired a recon round up past the windows. She scrolled the images on her glasses.

“The quality is not good, and the frame is small, as well as blurred from speed. There are occupants, several, male. There is a lot of debris. I note rags and cloths and possible bloodstains.”

Alex said, “Good enough for me. We’ll kick it and try. We have lawyers if we’re wrong.” He looked at the captain.

Rowe sighed and twisted his mouth. “I don’t like the potential collaterals, but I don’t see how it can get better if we wait. Go ahead and tell your people. We’ll lead.”

Elke rose and sprinted fearlessly, with everyone else playing catch up. She obviously took her buddy’s safety personally.

One nice thing about the shots outside, they offered distraction. The team might be compromised already, or the engagement might be taken as some random interplay. Either way, though, it was noisy. They were quiet. Anyone looking for them should be looking in the wrong place.

They ran to the entrance, and Elke pressed the door switch. It slid, they swarmed through into a very obvious sewing shop. There were gasps but no outright shouts or screams, and several troops raised fingers to lips then held calming hands out. Alex headed up the broad stairs with Elke and Jason each a half step behind, Shaman and Bart flowing through the door and falling in. They moved in practiced, gliding steps that minimized noise. There was still quite a bit of shuffling and clattering and some yelps from the workers. If they hadn’t been compromised already, they were now.

Jason rose up the stairs. There was a bare landing about a meter square, a featureless metal door, needing some kind of signal or having a hidden touchplate for access.

Jason was not minded to be picky. They stacked, Elke slapped a charge against the door, gave a thumbs up. Shaman goosed Jason, he goosed Elke, she fired the charge. Smoke and sparks fled in an arc. Bart managed to fit his bulk into the available space, and kicked the door off the tattered remnants of its hinges. He went right, Elke went left, Jason stepped right across the downed door, hearing a muffled grunt from someone trapped underneath it when it fell. Behind him, a shot indicated Alex had stopped the man’s pain permanently. Yes, there was a weapon next to the corpse. Good kill. Eddying dust roiled up in light from the windows. The hostiles should probably have covered those, but it might have drawn attention. This place was long abandoned.