Edward Crichton - The Last Roman

He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing.

“This is the kind of threat we were designed to handle, mates. Most of our allies’ Special Forces are otherwise engaged in other theaters of this war, and we are being called on to take action. The first Praetorian team is already in the field, so our deployment time has been advanced. Any questions?”

There were none.

“Righto. Our target is a small fishing town near the Mediterranean coast in Syria. Population is around two thousand indigenous residents known to have harbor terrorist cells. Intel has informed us of a cave just outside of town where satellite imagery has shown mass transit and large amounts of cargo transported in and out. We suspect these cargo containers are what we’re looking for.”

He turned on a projector and called up some photos of the town, the cave, the cargo containers, and a bearded man, wearing aviator sunglasses and a long, leather trench coat.

“A joint CIA and SIS task force has been searching for known terrorist, Mushin Abdullah, for years but has been unsuccessful. He’s a bioengineer whose resume spans back to the eighties and his work with the Russians, and we know he was the man who created the weapon used against Israel and the Vatican.”

Bordeaux fidgeted next to me in reaction to McDougal’s words, but he didn’t say anything.

I wonder what that was about.

“An analysis of the bodies found at both sites produced a list of necessary compounds he needs to make more of the agent. Intelligence compiled the list and cross referenced it with shipping manifests scattered throughout the Middle East. The man is not an idiot. His list went through a number of intermediaries, with numerous phony IDs and falsified bank accounts. What got him was a slip up in logistics, resulting in most of his purchases ending up at the same place at the same time. We can probably thank some low level enforcer for that mistake. Either way, we have an opportunity to take out the one man capable of making this rubbish, as well as one of the primary coordinators behind both attacks.”

McDougal paused, looking at each of us in turn, letting the impact of his words sink in. Satisfied he had our attention, he continued.

“Everything he needs has collected in those containers. We know they will be imported from a dockyard on the Mediterranean, and moved by vehicle to the cave. Our assumption is that he’s hiding out there. Our plan is to sneak into a few of these containers and infiltrate the facility right under his nose.”

He clicked a stylus, connected to the computer, and the multitude of images shifted to satellite imagery of the port and immediate area.

“Here’s the plan. We infiltrate the cargo ship after hitching a ride on the HMS Triumph, one of Britain’s nuclear submarines in the area. We’ll rendezvous with them in the Tyrrhenian Sea, where they will take us the rest of the way. Once aboard the cargo ship, we’ll locate these containers and stuff ourselves into as few as possible. Then, we take a ride.”

He utilized his stylus again, enlarging the image to encompass the port and town, highlighting the predicted route in red. He then shifted the image to show just the town and the location of the cave.

“Once the trucks reach this position,” he pointed to an area just before the edge of town, “Lieutenant Strauss will disembark and take position within the town to provide sniper support. You up for this, Strauss?”

“Yes, sir,” she replied sternly.

“Brilliant. Hunter, you’re with the team. We’ll need more shooters inside for this one.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now. Our primary objective is to recover the high value target, Mushin Abdullah, if he’s there. When we see him, we try and take him, but if he turns out to be too much to handle, we take him out. Wang, you’re on hostage transportation. Keep him quiet, but keep him mobile, we may need to cut and run. If I give the order, take him out.”

“Not a problem, sir,” Wang said confidently.

“Okay. Bordeaux, once we’re out, we blow the entire place, Abdullah or no. Bring enough C-4 to bring down the house.”

“It’s what I do best, sir.”

“Cheers. Finally, we’ll have a little extra backup on this one. A few days ago, the CIA was gracious enough to store some extra equipment we may need in a safe house inside of town. They’ve also made contact with the local resistance. If things get hairy, and we need to hole up and wait for extraction, that’s where we’ll regroup.”

Well, that seemed odd. Why would we need additional supplies for a simple smash and grab mission? Worst case scenario is that we have to hump it back to the docks on foot, but that shouldn’t take more than a few hours.

I continued pondering until McDougal continued.

“Our contact’s name is Omar. He’ll be watching the docks upon our arrival and will signal us when he’s ready for our insertion. Again, if things go bad, we’ll have his local militia for backup, but we can’t rely on them. We’ll fall back to the equipment cache and call for extraction, but only as a last resort. Hopefully, we’ll be able to get in, plant the charges, secure the high value target, sneak out, and wait for the place to blow on a timed delay. I’m not holding my breath on that one, so prepare for the worst. We’ll be moving out at 1300. It’s now 0900, so get your gear, and get some rest, we’ll need to be sharp when we hit the port, sometime around midnight. Any final questions?”

I raised my hand. “Sir, rules of engagement?”

“The townspeople are harboring known terrorists. If they get in the way, take them out. Let God sort out the rest. Anything else?”

He glanced around the room one final time. Everyone was silent.

"All right, dismissed.”

***

A few hours later, the team assembled in the armory, the first time I had seen everyone congregated in the small room at one time. Each member of the team was going through their equipment, and checking their weapons. Wang with his UMP submachine gun, McDougal with a G36C assault rifle, Bordeaux with the Mk 48 Mod 0 version of the M249 SAW light machine gun, which fired the larger 7.62x51mm round, and Vincent had an M4 carbine. Santino had an HK416, similar to mine.

The HK416 had been designed by a Green Beret when the M4 was deemed “too unreliable” by military brass. One end result was a far more efficient and dependable rifle in the form of the Heckler amp; Koch 416. Any gun designed by those guys was good enough for me.

Strauss was preparing two weapons. A German made AMP Technical Services DSR-1 was her primary rifle. It was an efficient sniper rifle that fired the same large round as Bordeaux’s SAW, but while not as handy in a large scale firefight, it was obviously far more accurate. McDougal had informed her that a M107. 50 caliber Barrett sniper rifle, similar to the one she and I had trained with earlier, was waiting at the weapons cache.

I again wondered at the purpose of such a cache, especially one containing such a powerful rifle.

Whatever. Out of sight, out of mind. At least hopefully.

Her second weapon was a Belgium engineered FN P90 personnel defense weapon. Preferred by tank and helicopter operators, its compact bull pup design gave it the size of an UMP, but thanks to a more unique round, its firepower and range was far greater than its size suggested. Its fifty round magazine and anti-armor rounds made it a sniper’s perfect secondary weapon.

As for me, I already had my rifle secure and my wetsuit on, and was just completing preparations on my re-breather gear well ahead of everyone else.

The Draeger Mk V breathing apparatus has been standard issue for SEALs for over thirty years, its design and function so effective. Instead of regular scuba gear, where a wearer breathes from an isolated oxygen source, the Mk V recycles the air breathed. With it, I could remain submerged beneath an enemy dock for the better part of a day, as long as I kept my breathing under control. The new Mk VI, developed only a few years ago, merely needed to have its internals cleaned, as opposed to having them replaced, an operation one can do in the field.