OUTCAST Ops: African Firestorm

CHAPTER NINE

Tanner Wilson wasn't someone to leave his friends and teammates hanging when they were in danger. At the same time, he didn't want to drop clues behind while he and his half of the team went to help the other half the team. Someone had thrown their hat into the ring— assassinated Aswegen — and now had his people under siege.

"One minutes to search the attacker's bodies," he said to Dante and Naomi as they reentered the SeaStar offices. "Just frisk and grab." They nodded and hurried out into the hallway. Tanner followed.

"Hey!" someone shouted.

Tanner turned to his left and saw a young man in the doorway of an office. His clothes were in disarray and he was pale and drawn, but he looked unharmed. Tanner reached in and pulled out his credentials case. "Are you all right?"

"I'll survive." The man was in his early twenties and definitely shaken up, but overall Tanner agreed with is assessment. "Who are you?"

Tanner flipped open his credentials case, showing the young man the forged INTERPOL ID. "Inspector Jackson Thomas. And you are?"

"Duncan Cook. Bookkeeper."

"Any ideas who could have done this?" Tanner looked around at the scene of devastation and death.

Duncan shook his head. "No. We were working late because of the situation with one of our ships, and…." He looked around. "Where is everyone?"

"We don't know, But I suggest you go around and get everybody who can still move out of here. Did you call the police?"

"I didn't, I should, though.” He began fumbling in his pockets for a cell-phone.

"Don’t worry about it. I'll call them. In the meantime, don't touch anything and get everyone you can out of here as fast as you possibly can.”

Duncan nodded hurriedly. "Yes, yes, of course. My God."

Tanner reached out and put a hand on Duncan's shoulder. "Concentrate," he said gently. "You can fall apart later, but right now, there are people who need you to lead."

Duncan inhaled. "Of course. Yes, thank you." He turned and went to the next office and knocked on the door. "Karen? Are you all right?"

Tanner turned back and saw the body of the attacker he'd killed earlier in the office doorway. He went over and knelt next to the fallen assailant. He pulled the ski mask off and saw that the attacker was no older than Duncan. His eyes were open and unseeing. Tanner closed them and swiftly searched the body. There were a few items, marijuana joints, some coins and a few bills. Tanner left them next to the corpse. The wallet had a few cards; an ID that identified the deceased as Rafi Najib, a few business cards, a few scraps of paper, and several photos, probably family. In addition, there was a cell phone, which Tanner pocketed along with the business cards and papers. He rose and moved to the other attacker he'd killed, the one over in the break area.

When he came around the counter, he found the attacker still breathing, though from the amount of blood coming from the nose and mouth, he wasn't going to be much longer. Tanner crouched down, careful to avoid the blood. He pulled the ski mask up to reveal the face. The man was a little older that the other attacker, the beginning of a beard around the jawline. His eyes were distant and blinking slowly.

"Who sent you?" Tanner demanded.

The man muttered, mixing Arabic, English and Afrikaner in a jumble of disconnected words. "Allah… inshAllah … Die Handelaar ….lied to us … ana 'atshaan …. ahtaju tabeeban …."

"Who sent you?" Tanner repeated, but the dying man either didn't hear him or didn't understand.

"Die Handelaar ….Ek is verlore….Ek het 'n dokter nodig—" He closed his eyes, shuddered and died.

Tanner bit off a curse and searched the body, finding the same things that he'd found on the first corpse, including a cell phone. Once he was done, he stood and spoke into his radio. "Two and Three: Are you done?"

"Yes, we're done," Naomi responded. "I also checked the computer room. The network servers are shot all to hell."

"All right," Tanner said, fighting disappointment. "Let's get out of here."

The smoke was becoming noticeable as Danielle and Liam entered the break room. "How are we going to do this?" Stephen asked.

Liam pointed outside the room. "Start a fire fight. I'm going to run from here to the end office, shooting at anything I can. You two stay low until I give you the word. When I do, cut a hole through the sheet rock and get down the stairs. There's a pickup truck there. You can hot wire it, right?"

Stephen nodded. "What about you?"

"As soon as you're at the truck, I'll break off and join you."

"Assuming the floor lasts that long," Danielle said. "I can feel the heat through the soles of my shoes."

"Use your judgment," Liam said. "If it gets too hot, make your break."

"Be careful."

Liam ran back to the office at the other end at a low crouch. He could feel the heat coming up through the floor. He looked out through the shattered windows, his eyes scanning for movement. The smoke was getting thicker, beginning to obscure his vision. The acrid taste got worse with every breath, and his eyes began to water.

He spotted motion below him as someone shifted from one foot to the other behind a shelving unit. He raised his P-90, aimed and stroked the trigger. Half a dozen bullets left the Belgium-made submachine gun and struck both flesh and steel. The wounded man screamed and a couple of AKs opened fire before someone shouted something in Arabic that silenced them.

Liam moved to the other side of the office. He pulled his T-shirt up to cover his nose and mouth, in an attempt to filter out some of the smoke. The heat under his feet was now very uncomfortable, but he stared out into the warehouse, looking for more targets. He caught movement below and to his left. He fired a longer burst that sent sparks scattering everywhere. He heard a grunt of pain and a couple of shouts, but he was already moving. Shoot ‘N’ scoot

He reached the middle office and fired a long burst through the shattered windows. He then ran back to the first office and fired another long burst. This time, the enemy opened fire and what was left of the window and doors of the offices were ripped into smaller pieces. Out of the corner of his eye, Liam could see fire begin to work its way through the floor and start up the wall to his right.

"Now, Two!" he shouted into the radio. He turned and ran for the break room.

As he reached the doorway between the break room and the middle office, he heard a long burst from Stephen's P-90 followed by Danielle saying, "Hole made!"

Liam charged through the middle office and break room. The smoke was thicker, the air hot, but Liam could see a three foot diameter hole in the sheet rock, courtesy of Stephen's P-90, and Stephen was already going through it. Danielle was standing nearby, covering Stephen.

After several seconds, Stephen said, "It's a three-foot drop to the stairs, but we have to move. Wall's beginning to catch fire, and the steel's hot as hell."

"Go!" Liam barked, firing what was left of his magazine through the break room's shattered front windows. When he looked back at the hole, Danielle was gone. He ran to the opening, changing magazines as he did so. He stuck his head through the wall, saw the steps below, and listened. There was still gunfire striking the front of the second floor rooms, but it was beginning to die down. The smoke was thick now, burning his throat and eyes, limiting his vision to ten feet.

"Two," he whispered. "Your location?"

"At the truck," Stephen whispered back. He sounded hoarse. "Three's with me."

"On my way." Liam leapt down, flexing his knees to keep his balance, then jumped down the stairs. The truck was to his left and he ran to it. The truck door closest to Liam was open, and he could see Stephen under the truck's dashboard, pulling and twisting wires. Danielle was standing next to the bakkie, P-90 pointed into the warehouse. She glanced at him as he moved toward her. He motioned her to get in the truck, then took her place as she went around the vehicle and got in.

"Two, give me your P-90 when you start that engine,” Liam said, climbing into the truck bed. Just as he steadied himself, the truck engine roared to life. He glanced back long enough to take Stephen’s offered weapon. As he heard shouts, he yelled, "Punch it!"

He spun, raised both P-90s and sent a withering fire stream into the garage door, the high-velocity bullets ripping through the thin metal, weakening the door. Stephen hit the accelerator and the bakkie shot forward. Liam dropped to the truck bed as it smashed through the garage door. As the truck cleared the door and burst into the night air, Liam rose to a sitting position and sent a long burst back through the newly created opening with Stephen's gun, in the direction of the forklifts. An explosion lit up the darkness inside the warehouse and Liam caught sight of a fireball through the smoke.

The truck made a sudden turn to the right, sending Liam sliding into the truck bed's left wall, making him drop Stephen’s P-90. As he steadied himself, he saw a couple of armed men charge out of the collection of empty cargo containers to the truck's right rear. They opened fire, sending sparks skittering across the truck, while a smattering of 7.62mm rounds punched their way through the truck's thin sheet metal, narrowly missing Liam and the others in the cab. Liam raised his own P-90 and sent a long burst in their direction, sending one of the men spinning into a cargo container while the other one dropped to the ground.

The truck made a hard left turn onto the side street, and Liam slid to the right, just as two more figures emerged from the containers, firing at the truck as they ran toward it. Liam fired a short bust from his P-90 before it ran dry. He dropped the compact machine gun, pulled his H&K SOCOM pistol, aimed it at the two figures and pulled the trigger as fast as he could. One of the lowlifes doubled over, but before Liam could target the other man, the truck made a hard right turn, sending Liam tumbling across the bed, striking his head on the steel bed and stunning him. By the time he cleared his head, the bakkie was flying down the highway.

"White to Black," Tanner said on the radio. "Status?"

"Black here," Liam said, sitting up and rubbing his head. There was almost no traffic behind them, and what little there was far back. "We're clear of the target, but we left a mess."

"Head for Rally Point Able," Tanner said. "We'll meet you there."

Ilshu scowled at the message Ahmad radioed in. The enemy had escaped cleanly, with whatever data they had managed to glean from the warehouse's computer system. He had lost ten men, all the recruits Hassan had drafted. The warehouse was filling with smoke and the entire office area was fully engulfed in flame.

"Do we pursue?" Ahmad asked.

Ilshu was tempted to say yes, but instead replied, "No. Everyone, retrieve all wounded and dead. We are done here."

"But Bahar and Habib's bodies were caught in the fireball!" one of the new recruits reported.

"Then don't bother," Ilshu said coldly. "Leave as little evidence as you can and get out."

He shut off the radio, turned and started running. He knew his team would follow him without question, and if the new recruits didn't, well, they were useless anyway. He needed to talk to Hassan.

A new player had joined the game.