Time to Kill: A Sniper Novel

15

Major Shakuri forced himself to remain calm as he walked the broad area where a makeshift convoy of vehicles was gathered. The drivers were all members of the Muslim Brotherhood, but not a one had ever taken part in a real battle, so they were drawn to the spectacle of the black-clad soldiers who had stormed ashore in front of the Blue Neptune Hotel. Shakuri, with his pistol out, snarled as he pushed them to regain their attention and focus on their job for the night. “All drivers to your vehicles immediately. Start the engines and stay in your seats, prepared to receive passengers. We will move out as soon as the men are loaded. Do not be left behind, or you will be severely punished.”

There were excited whispers as the drivers retreated to their cars and trucks and buses, for they had not been informed of their exact duties tonight. The cover of deception had been pulled away, and the drivers saw Iranian soldiers on the sands, moving with precision and purpose. Shakuri still had not disclosed the destination to them all; just that they were to get ready to move. In moments, the motors turned over, and the area hummed with the coughs and pops and whine of a traffic jam.

By the time he had completed a quick walk-around inspection, the major heard the boats at the beach again, coming in protected by the first wave of defenders. Another hundred men splashed out of the surf and ran to the parking lot. Shakuri climbed into an Egyptian army J8 Jeep with a 12.7mm machine gun mounted in the rear and pointed the lead group into the Toyota pickup truck just behind it. Black-clad shock troops filed like ants into the vehicles, remaining totally silent. Even when equipment snagged, someone tripped, or there was a mix-up about who went where, every problem was sorted out with hand signals, with noncoms pushing the troops into position.

Although he had been watching closely, Shakuri was surprised when a soldier appeared at his side, as if out of the night itself. “Ready, sir. Ninety-eight men counted.”

Above the rumble of the idling vehicles, the major could detect the higher-pitched engines on the inflatable boats, which were already speeding away to bring in the final wave of troops. He ran a mental count to be sure he had enough wheels and was certain that he did. “Drop a sergeant here to guide the next convoy, with the driver of that Jeep, who has been briefed.”

He did not know if the soldier saluted, for the lieutenant had disappeared just as fast as he had arrived. Shakuri’s nervousness melted away as he settled into his seat. He was on his own, out from beneath the thumb of Colonel Naqdi, and his confidence was bubbling. “Head out,” he barked at the driver. “Airport.” Behind him, the gunner racked in a belt of ammo.

On the beach of the Blue Neptune, a security guard in a crisp white shirt and dark pants let his curiosity get the best of him. He opened the door that led from the main building to the swimming pools, walked down the sidewalk through the lush foliage, and stopped when he looked out at the edge of the water. Little boats filled with men were roaring to the shoreline, and more were gathered on the sand below him, not moving. His job had required him to draw his sidearm before, when particularly bothersome thieves and muggers were molesting guests, and the reflex of facing danger made him reach for the pistol. A pair of silenced submachine guns coughed, and the bullets almost cut him in half, dropping him dead on the spot. “Fool,” said Lieutenant Taghavi. No one was supposed to die yet. The third force was almost out of the water and heading for the transport rendezvous point. For now, staying with the plan was all that counted.

Inside the building, Tianha and Omar heard nothing other than their own footsteps and heavy breathing as they fled down the concrete fire stairwells, hands grasping the metal bannisters. Each floor had a red door that opened onto hallways, but they bypassed those exits in a dash to the parking basement. Their survival lay in getting to the car and leaving the area before the soldiers closed it down. Regular hotel guests probably would be safe enough in their rooms, but a pair of agents from British intelligence would definitely not fare well in whatever was about to unfold.

Satellites and computers throughout the Middle East had painted the big aircraft since they had lifted off the tarmac of various military airfields in Iran and joined in a loose three-plane formation and headed east, with permission, through the skies of its friendly neighbor, Iraq. No American warplanes rose to challenge them, for there had not been any U.S. combat troops in Iraq since December 2011, and most of the billion-dollar airbases had fallen into total disrepair after being thoroughly looted. The Iraqi Air Force had only a handful of F-16s and not enough trained pilots to fly them, so they stayed on the ground because they were not being attacked.

The huge Iranian air fleet lumbered along a carefully predetermined route that skirted the American zone of control that still existed over Afghanistan and dodged Israel entirely. Instead of hiding their presence, the planes flaunted it, broadcasting to anyone who asked that they were on a humanitarian mission at the request of the United Nations and the Egyptian government. In both the Mediterranean Sea and the Red Sea, U.S. Navy fighter jets with air-to-air missiles on hard points sat on carrier decks in position for hot launches. Fighters flying Combat Air Patrols above the American battle groups extended their patrols into wider circles. Fighters from Israel zoomed up to take a look. No one could detect any overt threat, and the Iranian planes sped on.

“What the hell is this?” asked Wilson Patterson, a former four-star general who was now the national security adviser for the president. The results from the computer readings were plainly projected on a wall screen in the Situation Room of the White House. “Iran is running a mercy flight to Egypt? That is horse shit!” Patterson had never lost his Marine vocabulary.

“The United Nations has not authorized any such thing. The only request came from the Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt just a few hours ago. No one has acted on anything yet, and there has been no meeting of the Security Council.” Belinda Hawkins was the president’s chief of staff, and she had come to the big conference room wanting answers, not more questions.

“We can’t afford to let them land in Egypt,” said Patterson. “Once they have a footprint there, it will take all hell to dislodge them.”

“And we can do nothing to stop them, because to shoot down a bunch of transport planes that are citing a nonexistent UN mandate would be condemned as an act of war. We don’t even know what is aboard those aircraft. Could be blankets or could be bombs, and no one has asked us to intervene,” Hawkins said.

“What kind of assets do your CIA have in the area?”

“Not much. Some people to keep an eye on the oil situation, but they are paper-clippers and worker bees. I could throw a bunch of statistics, Wilson, but this is Sharm el-Sheikh, for Christ’s sake. Nothing ever happens there. What do you have?” She looked over at Admiral Kelly Foster, the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.

“Everything we need to fight two wars at the same time. I have carriers and subs and cruise missiles and all kinds of airplanes, and they are all cocked and locked.” The white-haired admiral looked carefully at the CIA chief. “I believe this is part of some kind of pretty shrewd invasion plan, but I’m not advising the shoot-down of a bunch of unarmed transports and passenger planes until we have much clearer intelligence on what’s happening.”

Patterson straightened his papers and stared at the wall screen one last time. “Nobody is even suggesting that you do that, Admiral Foster. But let’s take this mess upstairs to the Oval Office and let the boss know the Iranians have outfoxed us. He won’t be a happy camper.”

Kyle trotted around to the inner street side of the Blue Neptune to use the bulk of the hotel as a shield, found the turnoff for the underground parking garage, and headed down the ramp into the cavernous space, where his steps echoed back to him. Tianha and Omar burst from the exit door from the stairwell about the same time, and they all met at the Mercedes, with Omar punching his personal code into the doorlock pad.

“Pop the trunk so I can get at the weapons.” Kyle waited only a few seconds for the trunk lid to spring open, and he grabbed the duffel bags that he had put in there only a few hours earlier. He hurled them into the backseat and dove inside the car. “Go!”

It had barely begun to move when a man came running down the ramp, eyes glittering in a spade-shaped, bearded face. He was spraying long, wild bursts of automatic fire from an AK-47. Bullets clicked off the concrete wall, burst a few overhead lights, and punched into parked cars.

“Who the hell is that? He’s wearing an Egyptian army uniform.” Omar had started the engine, and the car was rolling.

“Doesn’t matter if he’s shooting at us,” Kyle said, pulling his .45 Colt.

Omar grunted agreement and floored the accelerator just as the gunman ran out of bullets and the weapon clicked dry. The man was standing in the middle of the lane, fumbling to reload, and his eyes grew in alarm as he realized that he was defenseless against the onrushing car. He tried to jump away, but Omar caught him with the bumper, and the impact flipped the gunman against another car, where he hit with a hard thump, bounced to the concrete, and lay there broken and still.

Tianha had her window down on the right side, with her weapon out, while Kyle was in the left rear, also with the windows down and his pistol ready while he scrabbled with his free hand to unzip the bag and reach the better weapons. The noise around the hotel was growing in volume.

Omar flew out of the top of the ramp and threw the Mercedes into a squealing turn. More Egyptian army soldiers were running across the street and into the hotel, firing as they went. A straggler stopped at the sight of the car that swept past only ten yards from him, turned to shoot, but sprawled flat when Tianha emptied her Glock at him. Then they were gone.

“Clear over here,” she called.

“Clear here,” Kyle responded. “Omar, get your own pistol out while I assemble some gear. You think those guys were really Egyptian troops?”

Omar wedged his pistol under his hip and gripped the wheel tightly. “They’re certainly not the Iranian soldiers who are on the beach side, and they have to be more than a bunch of thugs that just happened to be passing by out here early in the morning with AKs. My guess is they are some sort of raiding party of the Muslim Brotherhood, wearing army uniforms.” They heard gunfire popping from the street in front of other hotels.

“My God, they are targeting defenseless tourists.” Tianha pushed in a fresh magazine. “This is going to be Mumbai all over again. Hundreds of innocent people were killed and wounded.”

Swanson looked out the back window at the men surging across the thoroughfare as he recalled the 2008 massacre by Muslim extremists in India. Pakistan was behind it, of course, because the Muslim Pakis and the Hindu Indians had hated each other for ages. Mumbai was just another chapter of the deadly story the two countries were always writing, and in that context it made some sense. A similar attack on Sharm’s hotel row by jihadists, with a highly trained Iranian force right in the neighborhood, was a lot different. It would be bloody and blamed on the Egyptian army. Puzzle it out later.

“Omar, head for the airport,” Kyle said, finishing assembling the M-16A3 and placing a couple of grenades within easy reach. “Let’s stay focused right now on those Iranians.”

Tianha turned in her seat to look at him. “They arrived by boat, Kyle.”

Swanson shook his head. “That’s just the initial assault team. You land over the beach but immediately grab the airport to bring in planes and support. Same thing we did in Somalia.”

“Impossible,” said Omar. “Iran is too far from Sharm.” They ducked into a side street to avoid a group of men firing at another hotel, sending a scalding surge of bullets into the glass windows and zinging off the concrete.

“I agree. Fifteen minutes ago, I would have said it was impossible for Iranian troops to be down there on the beach. The point is they cannot remain there without external support. It has to be the airport.”

“And then?” Tianha was staring out of her window again. “We can’t just keep driving around.”

“Then? Well, then we just disappear until we can figure out what the hell is going on. Getting us to a safe place is Omar’s department.”

There was a loud explosion in one of the nearby hotels, and a flash of fire ripped outward over the street from an upper floor. Gunfire rattled like pebbles in a can.

“A lot of people are going to die tonight,” Tiana said in a sad voice that was almost a whisper.

Kyle leaned against the seat, rifle across his knees, surrounded by the tools of his trade, finally feeling ready for whatever was to come. By gathering up Omar and Tianha, he had consolidated his forces and increased the available firepower, for three guns were better than one. He was unprepared for anything of the scope of the battle that was happening around them, so all he could do was keep scrambling while he figured it out. In addition, the Lizard had included a sat phone in his package of goodies, so Kyle would finally be able to put aside the charade of cooperation and contact Task Force Trident as soon as he determined what was happening at the airport. “Yes, many will die. But not us. We can hold our own.”

The lights around the airport seemed puny in comparison to the glare of Hotel Row. It had been closed all night and was just coming to life, getting ready to handle another routine day of flights. The workers were still sluggish with sleep, and the security guards were totally off balance when the long line of vehicles led by a big military Jeep that mounted a machine gun rolled up to the terminal building and dozens of black-clad soldiers jumped out and ran in with automatic weapons at the ready.

Major Shakuri walked inside and saw only a small security team that had been taken by surprise, disarmed, and pushed to the floor. There was an unexpected feeling of confidence and power swelling his heart. He moved to an airline counter, and a nervous attendant gave him a microphone that tied into the public address system. Clearing his throat, Shakuri announced, “Do not be alarmed. We are a special force from the Iranian army, and we here at the request of the Egyptian government. You are under our protection. If no one resists, no one will be hurt. Again, please stay calm while we go about our duties.”

He handed the microphone back to the young woman at the desk and smiled. “Really, my dear. You have nothing to fear.” With an easy stride, he walked to the clump of Egyptian security guards on the floor and told them to get to their feet. “Brothers, I need you to take my men to other sections of the airport. We must put a soldier with a gun in every room. Can you do that for us?”

The guards were in shock. The airport had been taken by a military force without a shot being fired, and even as they watched, soldiers were fanning out to create a defensive perimeter. Finally, one of the older guards spoke. He was on the early shift to handle customs duty and had no intention of getting into a fight with these dangerous-looking men, so he bowed his head. “Welcome, brothers. We will cooperate.”

“That is good.” Shakuri clapped him on the shoulder. “You will please escort my tactical air party up to the tower right now so we can finish our work.” A half-dozen technicians peeled away from the soldiers and followed the man out of the terminal area. Others were assigned to the hangars and outbuildings. The major was moving fast to secure the place, and he had remembered to have one truckload of soldiers at the tail of the advance party stop to establish a roadblock. When the reinforcement column arrived, he would extend the perimeter around the runways. Major Shakuri looked at his watch and was pleased that everything had turned out so well. As Colonel Naqdi had promised, the strong and unexpected show of force would determine the outcome. All he had to do was show up.

His handheld radio beeped, and the tactical air team reported they had taken control of the tower and were in contact with the planes ending the long journey from Iran. “Very well,” Shakuri said. The facility was safely in his hands. “Send the message. This airport is now closed to all other traffic, and any flights except those approved by us must divert to other facilities.”

With help just minutes away by air and by road, only one thing remained on his list, perhaps the most important. He contacted Lieutenant Taghavi back at the beach, and as the officer answered, Shakuri heard gunfire and explosions in the background. “We have the airport, Lieutenant. Are you ready to attack?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do it,” the major ordered.