Dead Six

Chapter 17:

The Coup

LORENZO

May 10

The news was grim. There had been an explosion at the palace. The emir was dead. Until further notice, a curfew was in effect at eight o’clock every evening. The radio’s volume had been turned up, and the crowd of foreign workers, mostly Pakistani and Sri Lankan, gathered at the café were all listening carefully, many of them surely wondering just how bad it was going to get, but too poor to leave their relatively good-paying jobs to fly home. The news report ended on the high note that the heroic General Sabah had personally assured the destruction of the Zionist backed criminals, and all the workers went back to their cheap food.

“Tomorrow’s the big day. Are you nervous?” Jill asked.

“Of course not,” I lied. “I eat commando death squads for breakfast.”

The two of us were not that far from our apartment. Tired of waiting for the Fat Man, and feeling the need to keep busy, we had continued our search for Dead Six. It had been just as fruitless as before. Zubara was a big city, and nobody we talked to recognized the Americans of Dead Six. I don’t know where they bought their food, or who did their laundry, and apparently none of them had ever taken a taxi, and it was really pissing me off.

Jill Del Toro’s education was coming along. She’d been my shadow for the last few days. She no longer walked like an American in public, and I was pretty sure I’d gotten her to the point that she was street-smart enough to not just get randomly murdered on her own. Today she was playing a relatively convincing imported Filipina. I’d helped her with her makeup so she’d look more forgettable. She looked like a cleaning lady and I looked like I should be unclogging drains.

It turned out that both of us were fluent in Spanish. Jill’s paternal grandparents had been Mexican immigrants, and her dad had met and married her mom while stationed in Subic Bay. So we could converse freely here, as hardly anybody except for the occasional Filipino or European spoke Spanish in the Zoob and it didn’t stick out in public like English did.

She’d come along pretty well. If she had the inclination, I thought she could actually have a future as a criminal. She was certainly a good liar. “I’m not worried, either,” Jill said with confidence.

The last few days had been kind of awkward. Neither one of us talked about what had happened between us, which was good, I think, because that would have just needlessly complicated things. I had to keep my mind on business. “There’s something important I need to talk to you about.”

“Yes?” Jill responded quickly.

“It’s about tomorrow’s job,” I said.

“Oh.” She went back to her food, stabbing an olive with her fork.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen. This could be something simple and I can just walk right in and grab the box, or it could be crazy. I just don’t know. We’re going to have to come up with a plan on the fly. So I might need your help, I might not.”

“I’m ready. Dead Six ruined my life, Lorenzo. I’ll do whatever I have to do. I already showed you I’m willing to shoot them. What more do you need me to prove?”

I smiled. She was aggressive. “That’s not what I meant. Tomorrow, we either succeed or fail. After that, it’s on to Phase Three, and that’s my problem, not yours.”

“When will you tell me what that even is?”

“You really don’t want to know. Let’s just say that it’s stupid and dangerous. But that’s not what I’m talking about. What I’m trying to say is that after tomorrow, you’re done.”

She looked up from her lunch. “What do you mean?”

“I told you that if you helped me, I’d help you. I’ve had Reaper working on fake papers for you. I’ve got contacts I can refer you through. Basically, after tomorrow, you can go back to the US if you want.” I would need to walk her through all the details of setting up a new life, but she didn’t belong here, in this disintegrating shit hole, not anymore.

“Home?” Jill seemed shocked. Not upset, just surprised. “I . . . I don’t know what to say.”

“We’ll worry about tomorrow first.” I noticed some blue uniforms coming down the street. The security forces were randomly rousting people off the streets for questioning. It would be best to avoid that. I pulled out my wallet and threw down some riyals. “We’ll talk about it later.”

VALENTINE

Fort Saradia National Historical Site

May 10

1400

Following Sarah, I stepped out into the harsh desert heat. We made our way down the stairs of the dorm, followed by everyone else who’d been inside. Sarah and Anita had gone around banging on doors, telling everyone to follow them to the chow hall. She’d come to my room last.

Everyone kept asking her what was going on. She would only tell them she didn’t know why, but Colonel Hunter had ordered an all-hands meeting. Something big had gone down. We hadn’t had a meeting like this since our first night in-country.

For my part, I could guess what was happening. Gordon had told me that Project Heartbreaker was winding down. I wondered if, hell, hoped that the Project had been canceled and that we’d all be going home.

We all filed into the chow hall, and people began to sit down. Several of Hunter’s security people were standing around, looking just as confused as the rest of us. My old buddy Conrad was there, too, looking as dickish as usual.

Aside from the support staff, only fifteen members of Dead Six were present. I knew another ten or so were still out at safe houses throughout the city. Even still, a lot of faces were missing, and almost a third of the guys present had been wounded.

Even our support staff hadn’t been untouched. Sarah, Anita King, and another controller whose name I couldn’t recall were there. But the fourth controller, a woman named Evelyn Majors, had been killed in action. She’d been sent in to a captured enemy safe house to help gather intelligence. The whole place had been wired. It blew up, killing her and all of Hansen’s chalk. A couple of the logistics guys had been killed by a suicide bomber downtown.

We sat around talking for a few minutes. The dull roar of conversation quickly dropped away when Colonel Hunter came purposefully striding into the room. He stopped at the front of the chow hall, near the carts where the food was served.

“Listen up, everyone,” he said, his raspy voice echoing through the now-quiet cafeteria. “Two hours ago there was an explosion at the Royal Palace. The emir is dead. It’s been confirmed. General Al Sabah has declared martial law and has effected a nationwide curfew. He’s deploying half the Zubaran Army throughout the city in order to lock everything down.

“Not all of the Army is on his side. According to our information, one of the emir’s sons is still alive and is trying to rally support. General Al Sabah claims that the emir’s son assassinated his father in a coup attempt. We have every reason to believe that General Al Sabah was the one behind the bombing. Either way, a civil war is about to break out in this country, and our support network is gone.”

“What does this mean, sir?” someone asked.

Hunter looked thoughtful for a second. “Without Zubaran support, we can’t function. We can’t get supplies in and out of the country, and half of our best intelligence came from the emir’s secret police. This is a crippling blow to our operations. Project Heartbreaker has failed.” Hunter let that sink in for a moment before continuing. “I’ve been in contact with higher authority. I spoke with Gordon Willis half an hour ago. Project Heartbreaker has been terminated. Dead Six is being disbanded. We’re all going home.”

The chow hall erupted in clapping and cheers before Hunter could even finish saying it. Sarah leaned over and hugged me tightly in my seat. I could scarcely believe it, even though I’d sort of known this was going to happen. I was going to have to call Ling and tell her we wouldn’t be needing her assistance after all. A big smile formed across my face.

“Okay, okay, listen up!” Hunter shouted. “Getting home is going to be a long and painful process, folks. There’s going to be out-processing, nondisclosure agreements, and more paperwork than you can imagine. We’re still working on getting all your pay problems straightened out, too. Worse, you’re not leaving Zubara on a plane.”

“How are we leaving then, Colonel?”

“The situation in the Zoob has deteriorated enough that they’re not willing to risk our jet. Tomorrow night, around midnight, a boat will be coming for us. It’ll moor at the dock on the north side of the fort. You’re all going to board that vessel, and you’ll be on your way. Before ten people ask, I have no idea where that boat is going. I won’t be on it.”

I barely listened to the rest of Hunter’s briefing. He went on about how we needed to pack our stuff and start breaking down everything in the fort as quickly as possible. Instead my attention was focused on Sarah. She was beaming at me, a bright smile on her face. We were going to have to have a long talk about the future, about us. I knew it wasn’t going to be easy, either. But after everything we’d been through already, I knew we could make it.

As it would turn out, I didn’t know anything.

LORENZO

May 11

My phone sat in the middle of kitchen table, and I just watched it . . . waiting. The others had joined me, and the four of us were in a circle, kind of quietly looking at that phone like it was a magic oracle that was going to spit out the answers in a rhyming riddle or something. We had spent the last week preparing for today. Our equipment had been checked and rechecked. My crew was ready for anything. I didn’t know what the Fat Man’s message would bring, but I knew with dead certainty that he would call. Big Eddie’s people were extremely reliable.

And punctual. The phone buzzed. I pushed the button for speaker phone.

The Fat Man spoke. “Dead Six is supposed to leave Zubara tonight. They will be told to gather in the old Fort Saradia compound to await evacuation. A boat is supposed to pick them up at midnight.”

Reaper was already pulling up a map of the area and getting details on the old British fort. “How many men?” I asked.

“Approximately twenty-five remaining combat personnel and a dozen or more support staff. They will have all their equipment, and they will be alert. The last of them have been recalled already. Fort Saradia was their base of operations. All of their personnel will be on-site before sundown. They will need to be inside before the curfew to avoid suspicion.”

Reaper turned his laptop so I could see the fort. It was a big square of tall mud-brick walls on the coast just west of the Ash Shamal peninsula. A single road led to it, weaving through encroaching housing and terminating right at the front gate. The fort itself was big enough to fit a football field inside and had several interior buildings. That was a lot of area to cover. “Do you know where the box is being kept?”

“I do not have that information.”

Of course. “Anything else you can give me?”

“I would strongly suggest that you accomplish your mission before midnight. You do not want to be there after midnight.”

“What happens then?”

“I cannot tell you, but Dead Six will be dead by dawn. Do you understand me, Mr. Lorenzo?”

I hope you choke on a pancake and die. “Tell your boss I’ll get the box.” I hung up. The group was quiet as I studied the satellite photo of the fort. Something was going down, something huge.

Tonight I would bring the fight to Dead Six.

VALENTINE

Fort Saradia National Historical Site

May 11

1500

I found myself alone in my room, packing my belongings. Almost all of my clothes were stuffed into my duffel bag. In the short time I’d been in the Zoob, I’d somehow managed to acquire a second duffel bag’s worth of crap, and I was busy sorting through it all.

All of the gear I’d been issued was on my bed, laid out for sorting. We were told to just throw away the various fatigues and other clothing we’d used. Colonel Hunter told us to keep our body armor and weapons with us until we were on the boat and out of Zubaran waters. The situation downtown had rapidly deteriorated, and there’d been sporadic fighting throughout the tiny country. Rumors were flying about the emir’s son planning a last-ditch attempt to retake the Royal Palace. We all figured Zubara would be a war zone before the night was out, and we wanted to be ready in case anything spilled over onto our doorstep.

So the Mk 17 SCAR-H carbine I’d claimed back in February was lying on my bed, complete with grenade launcher, weapon light, and ACOG scope. I hadn’t yet reassembled it after giving it a thorough cleaning. That rifle and I had been through a lot together, and it hadn’t let me down. I wished I could keep it.

My body armor and load-bearing vest were on the bed as well. The armor still had Rafael Montalban’s .357 slug buried in it. My vest was stocked with ammunition and even a couple of grenades. The colonel had been adamant about us being ready to fight in case something bad happened, and none of us argued with him. There was no sense getting killed on your last night in-country.

I’d lined my various souvenirs up on the metal shelf that sat against the wall of my room until I figured out where I was going to pack them. The strange wooden puzzle box that I’d found in Adar’s safe was there, and I’d managed to sort of put it back together. Next to it was Rafael Montalban’s elaborate Korth revolver. I’d found my harmonica, too, which I was happy about. I hadn’t played it once since I’d been in the Zoob and had actually forgotten I’d brought it.

On the floor next to the shelf was a backpack full of money. It was my share of the loot we’d stolen from the man named Lorenzo. We’d split it four ways between Tailor, Hudson, Wheeler, and myself. Hudson was taking Wheeler’s share. He said he’d make sure Wheeler’s parents got the money. I had no doubt in my mind that he’d honor that promise.

I’d planned to use that money to pay Exodus for safe passage out of Zubara. Happily, I wasn’t going to need their services now, which meant I could keep the money. My share amounted to about a hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars’ worth of British pounds. I also had, stashed somewhere else, a smaller pouch with my half of the money from Adar’s safe. The spoils of war . . .

I called Ling on the phone she’d given me and told her the good news. She congratulated me but said that if the situation changed I could still call her. We’d made a deal and she’d honor it, she said. She told me that her people would be in Zubara for a few more days, though they were still leaving earlier than planned because of the looming civil war.

There were two quick knocks on my bathroom door, and Sarah came into my room. I smiled as soon as I saw her, and her eyes lit up. We embraced and kissed.

“Hey, you,” she said, looking up into my eyes. “Getting all packed up?”

“You know it,” I said. “I can’t believe how much crap I’ve accumulated since I’ve been here. I hope they don’t charge us for luggage.” I laughed.

“I wonder how long it’ll take us to get home?” Sarah said. “I mean, this boat could be going anywhere.”

“It could be weeks,” I suggested. “Or longer. Who knows? Hell, who cares? The important thing is we’re getting out of here.”

“I can’t believe it,” Sarah said, looking down. “After everything we’ve been through, all the people we’ve lost, we’re just leaving. It was all for nothing.”

I sighed. She was right. A lot of people had died, and we had nothing to show for it. “I know,” I said. “The important thing is we’re still alive. We have each other. We’re going home. All things considered, I’ll settle for that.”

Sarah gave me a sad smile. “Me, too. So, uh, where are you going when you get home?”

“I don’t really have a home,” I said. “The closest thing I have to family is a cranky old bastard named Hawk. He lives in a little town called Quagmire, Nevada. I’ll probably go there, since I don’t have anywhere else to stay. What about you?”

“I managed to get an e-mail off to my mom, telling her I’m coming home,” Sarah said excitedly. “She doesn’t even know where I’ve been. Not really, anyway. I gave her a story, told her I was working as a translator for an oil company. I’ll probably go back to Modesto, where she lives. I don’t have anyplace else to stay either.”

I chewed in my lip for a moment. “Modesto is a long way from Quagmire,” I said.

“You know, I hate living in California anyway,” Sarah said, smiling again. “I could, I suppose, be talked into leaving. You know, with the right incentive package.”

I raised an eyebrow theatrically. “Baby, I’ve got an incentive package right here,” I said, gesturing to myself while grinning stupidly.

Sarah laughed out loud. “You’re cute when you’re being a retard, you know that? Are you asking me to move in with you?”

“Eh, you might want to let me find a place to live first,” I said.

“Oh no, it’s not going to be that easy,” Sarah said, eyes twinkling. “You’re going to have to meet my mother first.”

“Oh boy,” I said without enthusiasm.

“Stop it, my mom is a sweet lady.”

“Wow,” I said after a moment. “This is all surreal. We’re really doing this, aren’t we? Holy shit. We’re going home!”

“I know, right?” Sarah said, squeezing me again. “Thank God.”

I closed my eyes, holding Sarah tightly. “Thank God.”

LORENZO

Carl and I sat in the van. It had turned out to be the hottest day so far this year, so of course, the air conditioner in our secondary van had died. We had one other vehicle stashed in a storage unit but it would stick out way too much in this neighborhood. The heat was like a stifling blanket, burning the air in my lungs. Sweat dripped down my back and pooled in my armpits. I finished the bottle of water and tossed it. Tonight was the night.

“You ready?” Carl asked from behind the wheel.

“Yep.” I cracked the vertebrae of my neck after securing the transmitter around my throat. This was it. “Radio check.”

“I can hear you fine. I’ve got a clear view of the gate, and the guards don’t seem to be checking anything,” Jill said. “I think it’s too hot for them to care.”

She was out of sight, a couple hundred yards up the road, closer to the fort. Alone, unarmed, and ready to step out into traffic on a moment’s notice. She sounded excited.

“I’ve got you, chief,” Reaper’s voice echoed in my ear. I knew that he would be sitting in the darkened apartment, half a dozen screens open in front of him, joystick in hand, four radio channels going at once, processing absurd amounts of information, and totally in his element. Even though he was ten miles away, Reaper was going to be my eyes. “Little Bird can see the van just perfect, nice and bright on thermal, too.”

Circling high overhead was Reaper’s favorite toy and the single most expensive thing that I had ever purchased, and that included sports cars, yachts, and houses. Little Bird was basically the world’s fanciest remote-controlled plane. Well, at least that a regular person could actually purchase. No matter how bad Reaper wanted one, we couldn’t afford a Predator drone.

L.B. had a wingspan of only ten feet. When you took it apart, the whole thing fit into two big suitcases. It wasn’t fast, it didn’t have any guns, but what it did have was the ability to stay in the air for damn-near forever running off what was basically a glorified leaf-blower engine, all while snooping with every type of camera you could think of. It was like having my own portable spy satellite.

Old Fort Saradia was visible at the end of the road. Those twenty-foot walls had been built over a hundred years ago by the British Empire. There were only two entrances, one off the road, and a smaller one on the opposite side overlooking the rudimentary dock, and thermal showed that both of them were being guarded.

Inside the walls were several other buildings. Some old battered historical things, then a couple of large steel buildings that dated back to the forties, and finally a dorm that had been built more recently when Fort Saradia had been used briefly as the oceanographic institute for the emir’s new university. The whole thing was supposed to be unoccupied now except for a couple of caretakers.

“You gonna stick with the plan this time, Lorenzo?” Carl asked.

“Sneak into a den of professional killers, find the box, walk back out. Right?” I was nervous, but I tried not to let it show. The shakes would come later, now I needed to be cold and professional.

“Walk in the park,” Carl muttered. I knew he didn’t like this at all. He wanted to go with me, but Carl was a warrior, he wasn’t built for stealth. And no matter how satisfying it would be, kicking in the door, guns blazing, was just going to get us all killed.

Rather, I was going to do what I did best. And that meant being one sneaky son of a bitch. I needed to be fully in touch with my inner ninja. I checked my gear again. I was moving light. Speed and silence mattered more than firepower. Forty of them, one of me, it didn’t matter what I was armed with. If I got caught, I was going to die. I had my STI, several extra mags of 9mm ammo, the excellent Silencerco suppressor, a pair of knives, one fixed blade and one folder, radio, lock picks, night-vision monocular, and finally a length of piano wire tied between two small wooden dowels. I’m an old-fashioned kind of guy.

My clothing was neutral, all gray and tan, cargo pants, plain long-sleeve T-shirt, soft desert boots, one of those cargo vests with ten million pockets, and even a khaki ball cap. The Dead Six types that we had seen tended to be dressed in that contractor-chic style, so I hoped that if somebody spotted me, their first inclination would be that I was just one of them, and by the time they recognized that I wasn’t, they’d be quietly dispatched.

After some internal debate, I had worn my lightweight, concealable armor vest, because even though it made me a little less mobile, this was a very trigger-happy bunch that we were dealing with. It would stop pistol rounds, but rifle bullets would still zip through like it was made of butter.

Now we were waiting. From the Fat Man, we knew that all of Dead Six was coming here, and with the curfew in effect, they couldn’t risk being randomly pulled over anymore than we could. Once Carl dropped me off and picked up Jill, he was going to park out of sight.

We were hoping for a vehicle that I could either carjack or ride unnoticed. Preferably the latter, as the former introduced some real bad complications into the mix. It was too early in the evening to start popping people. Reaper had already notified us of a couple of potentials, but they had been traveling too closely together. Luckily, the fort was the only thing at the end of this road other than shabby ramshackle housing, so if it was any sort of decent vehicle, it was obvious where it was going.

I didn’t like this plan. There were way too many things to go wrong. But if this didn’t work, then I was going to be reduced to trying to climb over walls that were probably under video surveillance. “I hate winging it,” I muttered. Carl grunted in affirmation.

“I’ve got a truck on camera. He’s at the base of the road, ETA, one minute,” Reaper said. “No thermal hits from the back.” Carl started the engine. The plan was to come up behind potential vehicles and tail them to the last roundabout. If it was a good one, we’d go for it. If it wasn’t, then we’d take the turn and come back here to wait for the next target.

It was a Mitsubishi truck, with a ragged tarp covering the back. It passed us slowly. The driver was a blond Caucasian and the passenger was a black guy, so they probably didn’t live here. It didn’t have a tailgate, so that was one less thing to worry about. “This one looks good,” I whispered. Carl nodded and rolled out behind him. “Jill, the white truck. Get ready to intercept.” I pulled the hat low onto my head and placed my hand on the door handle. The metal was scorching hot to the touch.

“Have visual. Truck’s coming toward the roundabout. Distraction time,” Jill reported matter-of-factly.

“Good luck, everybody,” I said. The van rolled up behind the Mitsubishi. “Now, Jill. Go! Go!”

I opened the passenger-side door. We had disabled the interior lights. The truck was slowing on the roundabout. We had one shot. Jill was dressed as a local, weighed down with bags of groceries. She blundered right into the path of the truck, playing oblivious to the hilt. The driver of the Mitsubishi hit the brakes. Red lights illuminated my world. I was out of the van in a heartbeat, Carl pulling the door closed behind me. I could see the passenger’s profile in his mirror, his attention on Jill.

The tarp was dusty with talcum-powder sand. Trying not to make a sudden impact against the shocks, I slid under and right onto the burning heat of the truck’s diamond-plate bed. The horn sounded, making me flinch involuntarily. I heard Jill shout back at the driver and could imagine her shaking her fist.

“I’m in,” I whispered.

Jill heard and continued on her way across the road. Carl pulled through the roundabout and headed in a different direction. I lay on the metal that was hot enough to fry bacon and tried not to cry. The truck rolled forward. I slowly shifted myself around on the greasy, hot surface until I was squished in the shadow of the cab as much as possible. After another minute we left the paved road and the tires began to make a different noise on the gravel. We were getting close. The brakes whined as we stopped.

“You’re coming through the gate,” Reaper informed me.

I could barely hear the passenger. “Hey, Studley, what’s up, dawg?” I couldn’t make out the guard’s response. “We’ve got the last of the stuff from Safe House Five. . . . I know, right?” There was laughter.

“Interior guard is waving them past. You’re inside.” Then music started playing in my earpiece. It was some techno-remix of the Mission: Impossible theme.

“Turn that shit off,” I hissed.

It stopped. “Sorry, just trying to set the mood.”

The brakes whined as we rolled to a stop. The smell of diesel was strong in the air. The engine died with a gurgle, and the doors slammed. I heard voices speaking in English, somebody laughed, and then it was quiet.

“They’re walking away from the truck. You’re parked just south of Building One.” I had memorized the overhead layout of the place, and we had numbered every structure inside. “You’ve got somebody on the wall directly above you. Hold on a second—I’ll warn you when you’re clear.”

I scurried around until I could see out the back. The interior of the fort was getting darker by the minute. There were only a handful of exterior lights scattered about, and luckily most of them were low wattage. Once it was fully dark, this place was going to be my playground.

I’m coming for you, Valentine.