Spyder Web

13

‘Shift change,’ Gates’s raspy voice whispered through Kilkenny’s earpiece. Changing of the guards at Masson’s base camp.

Kilkenny repositioned himself and looked through a pair of night-vision binoculars at the camp below. Since passing Masson’s gory marker just over a week ago, the SEALs had tracked and studied the activities in the guerrilla camp.The satellite photos they had used in preparing for this mission showed elements of the compound but gave little feel for how the place worked. That kind of information could only be gathered firsthand. Several days of on-site observation gave the squad the familiarity they needed in order to succeed.

What they discovered about their opposition’s security astounded them. No mines, no trip wires, no booby traps of any kind. The most formidable aspect ofMasson’s defenses was the fear he’d spread over the surrounding villages, a fear that the SEALs did not share. The only protective efforts they detected at the encampment amounted to a few bored men casually patrolling the perimeter. The safety of this remote jungle haven had made Masson’s men lax on their home turf.

Kilkenny set the binoculars down and closed his eyes in a silent prayer. The plan was set and his squad had taken up their positions around the camp. Tonight, they would attack. Kilkenny prayed for the safety of his men.

Dawson walked into the Operations Center and signed into one of the mission observation rooms. The rooms mirrored their larger counterparts in the Pentagon, where senior officers and mission planners watched missions unfold. During World War II, it took days before film footage and reports from the battlefield reached the Pentagon. Now, through the use of satellite imagery and the combat electronics worn by his men, Dawson could witness the drama played out live. The downside of all this advanced technology was the very real possibility of seeing some of his men die in action.

He snapped his headset into place and punched in his access code. The five-by-ten high-definition wall display changed color as the computer confirmed his code and tied him into the mission feed from the Pentagon.An image of southern Haiti, as seen by a reconnaissance satellite passing over two hundred miles above and enhanced by a bank of supercomputers at the National Reconnaissance Office near Dulles, filled the display.

With a few keystrokes, Dawson superimposed mission elements onto the screen. Offshore, the Columbia remained on-station, waiting for her rendezvous with his men. A cluster of man-shaped icons were lumped together, deep in the jungle northeast of Jacmel.

He zoomed in on the cluster and switched from realtime imaging to infrared. Now he could see what his SEALs were up against. Over the past week, he, too, had been studying Masson’s camp from this room, taking a head count of the opposition. His men were outnumbered four to one, and Dawson hoped that this was Masson’s only advantage tonight.

Just minutes from now, at zero hundred hours local time, Kilkenny and his men would attack.A brief message from the SEALs indicated that everything was ready and the mission was still on. The guerrilla camp looked quiet, with only a token force on patrol, as the SEALs started to move. The assault had begun.

Gates and Rodriguez stalked the young soldier patrolling the perimeter of the camp. His rifle was slung carelessly over his shoulder and a cigarette dangled from his lips, each drag illuminating his face and robbing him of his night vision.

That mistake will cost you dearly tonight, Gates thought.

The sentry kept looking back at the hut on the edge of the camp — the whorehouse.His mind was obviously on the women who languished there as sex slaves. A terrified scream from the hut, followed by a loud stream of violent cursing, brought a smile to the sentry’s face as he leaned against a tree and smoked his cigarette.

Nothing fancy, Gates admonished himself, just take him out.

From a crouch, Gates sprang up in front of the sentry just as a plume of smoke billowed from the man’s mouth. Before his tiger-striped face even registered in the sentry’s eyes, Gates drove his fingers into the man’s throat, crushing his windpipe.

The sentry gasped, eyes bulging as Gates grabbed him by the head and expertly snapped his neck. Gates cradled the man, slowly lowering his lifeless body into the underbrush. Around the camp, the maneuver was repeated until the entire night patrol had been eliminated.

Near the hut where their female captives were kept, several soldiers sat near a small fire, laughing and drinking.

‘Merde!’ a haggard soldier growled as he stumbled out of the hut, struggling to pull up his tattered pants.

‘What’s the problem, old man,’ one of the younger soldiers remarked, ‘couldn’t get it up?’

‘Hah!’ the older soldier spat back. ‘Fucking has never been a problem.Watch yourself around that new bitch — she’s got claws and teeth.’

‘I like a woman who fights,’ a tall, muscular soldier boasted proudly.

‘She’s waiting for you, Gano,’ the older soldier replied as he inspected a gash on his stomach.

Gano handed the older soldier his bottle of rum and walked slowly toward the hut. Inside, several women huddled in a darkened corner, hoping to make themselves invisible, to disappear from this hellish place. Gano studied the quivering mass of bruised and bloodied flesh. He saw women as nothing more than animals, like chickens or goats, something you breed, slaughter, and consume.

He reached down and grabbed one of the women by the hair. As she screamed and dug her fingernails into his forearm, Gano picked her up and threw her into the center of the hut. She was naked, and purplish welts marked what had once been an attractive body. She pulled herself up from the ground, crouching on all fours.

‘So, you like blood,’ Gano said as the clawed flesh on his arm reddened. ‘I do, too.’

Gano viciously kicked the woman in the chest. She rolled with the blow, but the impact still managed to break two ribs. The sharp pain almost caused her to black out, but she held on to her consciousness.

Kilkenny’s first shot punched a hole the size of a quarter in one soldier’s forehead. The bottle slipped from the man’s hand as his head slumped back.The others thought their companion had passed out, until a second man collapsed in a bloody heap. Kilkenny and Darvas didn’t waste a single round from their silenced H-K MP5s; each shot hammered into a kill zone. With Darvas covering him, Kilkenny followed the screams into the hut.

Gano looked down at the woman and smiled as she struggled against the pain. He knelt, grinding his knee into her right leg to pin the limb down. Wrapping his right arm around her left leg, he spread her legs apart. She tried to pull her leg back, but Gano locked her knee, and each twist felt as if the joint would break.

‘I’ll give you a choice, vache,’ Gano sneered. First, he loosened the rope that held his pants up; then he pulled a grimy pistol from his hip holster and held it between her legs. ‘You can have me or my gun.Which will it be?’

Before the woman could reply, Kilkenny fired. The near-silent blast shattered the man’s shoulder.The impact twisted Gano at the waist, turning him toward the hut’s entry.Kilkenny’s second shot exploded in the man’s heart and sent him sprawling backward to the ground. The woman had been kicking her captor furiously as Kilkenny entered, a dark figure backlit by the fire outside. She shrank back when she saw him, not certain if Kilkenny would now take the dead man’s place.

‘Va!’ Kilkenny shouted at the women as he pointed to the door.

The women needed little encouragement as they bolted for their freedom, fleeing with little regard for personal modesty as they vanished into the jungle. Kilkenny’s stomach tightened as he stowed his revulsion at the thought of his mother or sister in the hands of these monsters.

Kilkenny switched on his throat mike.’Hep, talk to me.’

‘We had a little trouble on the back side,’ Hepburn replied, ‘but the camp is secure.’

Kilkenny had heard a sporadic exchange of gunfire — on the far end of the compound — which seemed to end as quickly as it had started.

‘Good. The women are heading into the jungle like the devil’s after them. See if you and Gilgallon can’t get ‘em to safe ground and tend to their wounds.’

‘Will do.’

Kilkenny then left the hut and turned to Darvas. ‘Let’s move.’

The camp was quiet, unnaturally so as Kilkenny and Darvas moved among the huts. Through a few open doors, Kilkenny saw the bodies of Masson’s men scattered in heaps on the ground. Gates scurried across the compound to join him.

‘Masson’s holed up in his hut. Rodriguez and Detmer have him pinned down. Near as I can figure, he’s got the place lined with sandbags.’

‘Smart man. How are we set for time?’

‘The satchel charges are in place and the clock is running. We’ve got just under five minutes to get clear.’

The SEALs had planted enough plastic explosives around the camp so that, in five minutes, there would be nothing left but a scorched crater. Normally, they would just toss a couple of grenades into the hut and call it a day, but the C-4 they’d planted had a nasty tendency to detonate in the proximity of an exploding grenade.

‘If we back off now, this guy just might get away, and that is fucking unacceptable. Masson is a cancer and we’re cutting him out. Gates, you’re with me. Darvas, cover our backs. Rodriguez and Detmer, make sure he doesn’t pop out the other side. Let’s do it.’

Gates and Kilkenny ran a zigzag pattern across the clearing in front of Masson’s hut, dodging fire as they approached.Well-timed bursts from Darvas’s MP5 kept Masson from getting a clean shot at them.

Kilkenny let loose a burst of gunfire that perforated the corrugated metal door, twisting and warping flimsy steel until it finally pulled free of its hinges and clattered to the ground. Masson’s weapon replied on full automatic, emptying itself quickly, although failing to find a target.

Kilkenny dove through the open doorway, tuck-rolling across the dirt floor, with Gates following his lead. Masson had just snapped a new clip of ammunition into an Uzi when Kilkenny’s boot struck his stomach and sent him sprawling against a pile of sandbags. The blow stunned him, but his grip on the weapon was firm. Still gasping for air, Masson aimed at Kilkenny.

Muzzle flashes filled the interior of the hut like a strobe, but Gates found his target first. Pain seared Masson’s mind as a dozen blistering rounds riddled his body, breaking bones and tearing flesh. The crazed exsoldier fell backward before collapsing on the ground.

Kilkenny got up, nodded to Gates, and turned to his fallen opponent. A fire still burned in Masson’s eyes, but his breathing came in wheezing gasps as he clung to his last moments of life.

Dawson zoomed the satellite image back in order to show a larger area of southern Haiti as his men left the guerilla camp. Right on cue, a bright thermal plume lit up the infrared display.

Helicopters from Port-au-Prince were racing toward the scene of the explosion, the government having been quietly notified that several captives of the scavengers had been liberated and required assistance.

‘Bravo Zulu, Trident,’ Dawson said quietly to himself. ‘Well done.’

The SEALs melted into the jungle as the helicopters approached the smoldering crater. The women, clothed and cared for as well as the squad could provide, were quickly evacuated from the scene. Kilkenny bowed his head as the helicopters disappeared from view.

‘What ya thinking about, Nolan?’ Gates asked.

‘Something my mother taught me, the Prayer of Contentment. “Lord, grant me the courage to change what I can change, the strength to accept what I cannot change, and the wisdom to know the difference.’”

‘Good prayer. I can see how the first part applies to our current situation, but what about the rest?’

Nolan paused to consider why these words would come to him at this time. ‘I guess this is the first time since this mission started that I let myself think about what’s waiting for me when we get back.’

‘Getting cold feet, partner?’ Gates asked in his smoothasmolasses drawl. ‘You could just sign up for another hitch and take the easy way out. Dawson hasn’t filled your slot yet.’

‘C’mon, Max,’ Nolan said with a laugh, ‘you, of all people, know I never do anything the easy way.’

‘No, son, you don’t. But you do what has to be done. That’s what made you a good leader and a hell of a SEAL.’

Nolan smiled, accepting the compliment.He had been paired with Gates for almost five years, and he had come to value the master chief ‘s experience and to respect his opinions.

‘This,’ Gates said, cradling his submachine gun and smelling the cordite in the air, ‘this is my life. This is what I was meant to do. This life isn’t for everybody, and we both know it’s not for you. This is your send-off, Nolan. It’s time to move on.’

‘So I should just accept the fact that change is inevitable?’

‘Deal with it, Lieutenant.’