In the Mouth of the Wolf

Chapter 14

The higher they traveled into the nature reserve, the cooler the air became. A slight western breeze carried on it the pungent smell of wild mushrooms, and a strong scent of pine.

The path the two trucks were following was treacherous, but they weren’t doing anything different from the caravan that passed through here ahead of them. They just had to take it slow.

As they approached a slight bend in the path, the iridescent eyes of a red fox glared at them, as the animal tried to stay hidden in the tall grass, with a small rodent hanging from its mouth. The truck’s tires ran over a small branch, cracking it in half, causing the fox to scurry across the road.

Cranston and Grant were hardly distracted, and using the NVGs, kept focusing on the beaten path, trying to avoid any hazards. The rest of the team strained their eyes, trying to look through the darkness, seeing only dark forms of trees and hills.

The brake lights on Russo’s truck lit up. Adler was just starting to slow down, when Grant was already out the door. He ran to Russo. “What?”

“According to the mileage, what we’re looking for is about a hundred yards ahead, to the right.”

“And that would be?”

“The Italian,” Russo said pointing over his shoulder, “said it’s called Conza cave.”

Adler put the truck in neutral and pulled the hand brake. He jumped out, then mustered alongside Grant. “What’s goin’ on?”

“Give me a minute, guys.” Grant turned away, trying to think out his next course of action. Walking back and forth next to the truck, he finally stopped and said, “Think we’ll use the ‘herd the cattle out of the pen’ maneuver. Craig, it’ll be up to you to determine about how many Italians are in the cave, then report back. Get the shotgun mike; make it quick.” Simpson dragged the rucksack close, pulled out the mike, then took off.

“When Craig gets back, Ray and I’ll go position ourselves outside the cave. Give us ten minutes. Vince, then you start driving — slowly — on my signal. Copy?”

“Copy that. Lights on?”

“Affirmative. And if the rest of the trail is anything like what we just drove over, it’s gonna be a bitch, so be careful. I want to get all or most of those bastards outside the cave. Do what you’ve been doing. They talk, you answer. You’ve gotta make them believe you’re in charge of the ‘prisoners’ but you need help escorting them into the cave. Got it?” Russo nodded.

Adler looked at Grant questioningly. “Can I see you for a minute over there?” Grant followed him to the other side of the truck, then Adler said, “Let me get this straight. You wantme to stay with the truck?”

“You heard me right. I need you to man the radio in case it turns to shit up there. It’ll be up to you to contact Grigori.”

“But, Skipper… ”

“Joe, listen to me. Officially, you’re not part of the team on this one. You understand?”

Under his breath Adler mumbled, “Doesn’t sound like an official order to me.”

Grant knew it was hopeless and just turned to Moore. “Ray, give me one of those.” Grant took off his jacket, attached the small battery to his waistband, adjusted the dangling antenna, then ran the wire up a sleeve before inserting the earpiece in his right ear. He nodded to Moore who spoke quietly into his throat mike, testing the equipment. Putting his jacket back on Grant confirmed, “Okay, Ray. You got the C4?” He had to be prepared, but the explosive would be a last resort, and only after the canisters were safely stowed… unless they had to seal off the cave, canisters and all.

“C4, det cord, pencils,” Moore responded, holding up a rucksack.

C4’s color and substance resembles white modeling clay. Det cord, burning at twenty-five thousand feet a second, can be used to connect multiple blocks of C4. The explosive could be formed to almost any shape, then exploded with something like a blasting cap or chemical pencil. The three inch chemical pencil contains a one inch ampoule of acetone, that when crimped allows the acetone to eat away a plastic washer holding back a striker under spring tension. When the washer erodes, the spring drives the striker into the explosive detonator, setting off the device.

Grant took the M16 being held by Womack, put the extra rounds into his chest vest and double checked the clips for his .45.

“What do you want the men to do with him?” Moore asked as he pointed over his shoulder to the Italian.

Grant eyed the surrounding area. “Gag and hogtie him to that tree over there,” he said pointing beyond some thick brush. “Maybe we’ll pick him up on our way out.”

Adler stepped aside as Simpson and Womack pulled the Italian from the truck. “One last time. You sure you want me to stay here?” he asked Grant.

“You’re the only one who can inspect those canisters and determine what needs to be done.”

Adler nodded begrudgingly. “And you’ll contact me as soon as it’s clear, right?”

Grant punched him in the shoulder as he walked by, taking a few steps down the path, keeping an eye out for Simpson. He brought his arm close, trying to see his watch.

Adler motioned with his head. “Here he comes.”

Simpson didn’t wait for Grant to ask. “Tough, sir. That damn cave’s pretty deep, and the entrance is covered by trees and brush. But I’d say there’s at least five of ‘em in there. There was some kinda light behind the trees; may have been a guard.”

“Okay, Craig. That’ll have to be good enough.” He checked his rifle, then said, “Everybody knows what has to be done, and we’ve gotta get it done before daybreak. Come on, Ray.”

Grant and Moore, with their rifles locked and loaded, moved quickly down the left side of the road. They had gone about fifty yards when they noticed some kind of dim light up ahead, the glare being filtered through trees.

Grant put his hand out, motioning for Moore to slow down. “Gotta be the entrance. Let’s go.”

Moving farther off the path, taking cover behind some brush, they crouched down, continuing to move forward, keeping their eyes focused on the light that seemed to be moving, until they were directly opposite it. Finally, they were able to see a large, barrel-chested man pushing aside tree branches, holding a lighted lamp high overhead.

Grant and Moore stopped dead in their tracks as the man walked within thirty feet of their position. They could smell tobacco smoke as he took a deep, final drag, then flicked the butt close to where they were hiding. They figured he was watching for the trucks.

With one last look, the man turned, went back up the incline and disappeared behind the tree branches. The light slowly dimmed until there was only darkness.

Grant spoke softly. “He’s in the cave. We’ve gotta get closer.” He motioned for Moore to take the right side. They took off simultaneously, running to take their positions on either side of the cave entrance.

Grant rushed up to the edge of the cave, pressing himself against the rock, gradually squatting down and inching his way to get behind large, moss-covered rocks. Moore was taking his position opposite him, about twenty-five feet away. Grant turned his back from the cave entrance, pulled his penlight from his pocket, shining the tiny light on his watch. There were still a couple of minutes. He held up two fingers for Moore.

He scooted closer to the edge of his hiding place, then looked around the corner. A pungent dampness and cigarette smoke immediately hit his senses. The floor of the cave, from what he could see, was nothing but rocks, puddles of water, and some kind of brush. He tried focusing on what he could only assume was a curve to the left in the rock, then beyond that was probably the very back of the cave. A flickering, dim light reflected on the walls.

Grant eased himself backward, hearing occasional, muffled laughter echoing within the cave. Just as he was about to look at his watch, he heard truck engines and saw headlights. Moore signaled a thumb’s up. Both of them crept farther back, seeing a light inside the cave getting brighter, knowing someone was heading toward them.

Grant brought his rifle in front of his body, with his index finger in position, ready to let all hell break loose if necessary.