Unsung Warrior Box Set, page 21
part #1 of Unsung Warrior Series
Then he turned to the recon team. “Double squad, point and ghost,” he barked, and they split into the double formation Maric favored for forest work in open conditions. His voice was now the voice of command.
He could feel his attitude changing, hardening, gearing up for the dangerous phase of the op. From tomorrow morning his job was simple – to keep the members of the recon team alive. He could only achieve that if they did exactly what he said, and did it as if their lives depended on it. And their lives did depend on it.
The recon team slipped into the forest, striving for a silent, fluid passage through the undergrowth. Every noise near the airfield could be a precursor to enemy fire. Any sudden movement a flag to an enemy sentry.
The point and ghost formation split the recon team into two squads of four, traveling abreast of each other but a hundred meters apart. Maric commanded the right squad, and followed Mosha, who was taking point. To his right a similar pair repeated the two positions, but further back.
The ‘ghost’ squad reversed the order, with Russo following Hendrik, and another pair repeating those positions to their left.
Maric and Russo had deep emf locators. Simple devices that used part of the radio spectrum no one else did. As the teams moved, the machines triangulated the returns from each other and showed the position of both teams on a simple graphic. It was Maric’s job to see the ghost team kept up. If it wasn’t, he slowed his squad until it had cleared the obstacle.
Infrared satellite location was also an option, but that could be jammed. And it had the disadvantage of needing to be okayed in advance by Cal, at HQ in New Zealand.
The beauty of the point and ghost formation, at least in this terrain, showed itself when someone on point flushed out a contact. While the rest of the squad provided suppressing fire, the adjacent squad moved across under cover of the action, and appeared ‘out of nowhere’ right on top of their adversaries.
With the emf locators working perfectly, the two squads made the edge of the ravine in less than ten minutes. Maric signaled a halt. He could hear the other squad moving through the forest to one side, and wished they’d had more time to train in these conditions.
To their advantage, the two Kayans would be scouting ahead of them, and letting Maric know what was out there.
After a few minutes Menan materialized out of the trees ahead, one arm raised above his head. This was the agreed signal. When the team was on high alert in the days ahead, this was the only way Maric could be sure of the trackers’ safety. There would be other Dayaks in the area around the airfield. Confusion cost lives.
Maric made the wide sweep of the ‘okay’ signal, and Menan led them off on an angle to their right. They reached a narrow defile, which led down to the floor of the ravine. Menan stopped Maric before the team descended, and pointed through an opening in the canopy overhead.
A smooth white trunk rose from the floor of the ravine until it was clear of the other trees. It branched twice and ended in a dense mat of foliage. It took Maric a moment to realize what it was, and then he smiled.
A honey tree. He didn’t think they grew this far inland. The bluff sheltered it from the prevailing wind, and that must have done the trick. Dark patches under some of the bigger branches were hanging combs of honey. Favorite food for sun bears.
He smiled at the tracker, and turned to lead the team down the narrow defile Menan had found for them earlier. The recon team were soon walking along the floor of the ravine.
The forest was clear of undergrowth along the bottom. The trees were taller here, and further apart, rising out of a shingle and mud floor. A hundred meters further on, the ravine abruptly opened out into a natural bowl. One side was jammed against a cliff face.
Maric nodded to himself. It was the sort of open place he’d sent the trackers to find. Even though the recon team were in the middle of nowhere, he didn’t want to draw undue attention to their activities. Here, the forest would muffle most of the sound, and the ravine would direct what was left upward.
It was time to see what the H&K prototypes could do in a jungle setting.
“Playtime, children,” said Maric, swinging his kit off his back and dropping it onto a shelf of rock. Then he set up a series of targets, and sent Mosha and Hendrik off to build an assault course through the natural obstacles further along the ravine.
“You, too, Anderson,” he said to the team’s sniper specialist. Anderson had brought his arctic sniper rifle, with Maric’s consent, but he needed to be familiar with a PR7. Maric had to plan for every eventuality.
By the time darkness fell, thirty minutes later, the team had seen what the tungsten ‘expanding bullets’ of the PR7s could do. Branches had been cut off trees. Rocks had been obliterated, reduced to deadly shards as effective as a grenade.
Maric had shown them the ability of the PR7 to fire under a vehicle and send a shower of rock splinters and tungsten pieces up into its petrol tank. Hendrik managed to bend the unbreakable shards almost ninety degrees, skating them around a curve in the cliff face and back into the trees.
Menan and Pejuang had bolted at the first burst of heavy bullets from the PR7s. Maric kicked himself for not warning them. He thought he saw movement near the top of the ravine, on the inward side. At least he knew where they were. They’d found one of the safest places.
The last ten minutes were spent completing Maric’s assault course. This meant taking out assigned targets while staying low and avoiding overhead fire. They did this once with the PR7s, and once with the USP pistols.
“Time’s up!” said Maric, when it was too dark to continue safely. “Pick your spot and stay there for forty minutes. Don’t make a sound.”
Forty minutes of silence in jungle conditions was good lookout training. It also gave Maric a chance to see if anyone would come to investigate the noise they’d been making.
He dropped his field poncho over his head to create blackout conditions. That allowed him to review the latest update from Cal. The satphone needed the folding dish antenna he’d left back at the camp, but the information he was looking at had been downloaded three hours ago. He would use some of the information during the briefing later in the night.
Forty minutes later the recon team had stayed on ‘sentry duty’ long enough, and no one had come to investigate the weapons fire. The team now had good night vision, and Maric pushed them hard on the way back to camp. He avoided the old logging tracks and kept them in the undergrowth.
They did well. Maintaining a good walking pace in almost complete silence, despite a full kit and forest conditions. It helped that the moon was on the increase, and had cleared the horizon.
The Kayans disappeared silently ahead of them, sent to tell Dick to put some coffee on the gas stove. The others watched the trackers go, envious of their natural ability in their jungle home.
It wasn’t long before the logging camp appeared through the trees.
After the coffee break, Maric assembled everyone in the kitchen. He’d manhandled the table to one side, and set up the other side for a slide show. One that would run off the data stored in the satphone, sent through an electronic tablet with a built in projector. The rest of the group found themselves places on the chairs, or the bench tops, or somewhere on the floor.
Maric ticked off the rest of the evening in his head. The briefing would take about an hour, and then it would be time for a last check of combat gear. That would have to be followed by some personal time. The recon team would be too wired to sleep. They’d need to wind down.
For some it was cards that did it, for some it was a quiet walk outside or a bit of reading. Whatever it was, they had to be in their bunks by midnight.
They’d be up at six. After that they were heading into a largely unknown situation, and everything would be in the hands of the gods.
“These are the original satellite photos of the airfield,” he said, looking round the room. He didn’t need to tell them lives depended on knowing this stuff. Probably their own. Every eye was riveted on the patch of white wall he was using as a screen. Dick translated quietly for the two Kayans in the background.
“Since then one of the four Cosmo satellites has flown over the area several times each day taking pictures. We’ve had the images enhanced, and examined in detail. The Count’s taken a lot of care to keep his operation out of sight. But if you look long and hard enough, you’ll always spot something.
“There’s no evidence of camouflage netting, or buildings. At this stage that poses a mystery. Workers have to live somewhere, as does some sort of security force. There are domestic functions like cooking and washing, necessary to keep a work force operating.
“However, we think there is a track from the base of a dome nearby to the airfield.”
He tapped a key and the track was overlayed as a graphic on the original satellite photo.
“Our analysts have caught glimpses of clay patches, suggesting wheel tracks. They’ve also seen movement under the canopy, most likely vehicles. And the occasional flash of metal. It’s enough to tell us there’s a vehicle track connecting the dome and the airfield.
“Backing up this assessment is the geography of the area round the dome. It’s part of a ring of low hills that’s got the experts excited. It’s typical of an old volcanic vent when it’s been eroded away to almost nothing.”
Another graphic, highlighting a low arc of hills, appeared on the satellite photo.
“It’s the sort of formation we need to find, if we want a source point for the diamond fields. The valley draining the south-east side of the vent allows erosion to take the diamonds into the Kahayan River system, and down to the coast.
“It all fits, people. An airfield when there are no villages nearby. The position of the volcanic vent if it’s to create the mining area we want. The care someone has taken to hide the operation that’s supplying the airfield.
“That’s enough evidence for me, and I’ve sent a ‘go’ to base. Cal’s talked to our backers, and we’ve got confirmation to proceed at all levels. The main team – the remainder of the SAS force plus the other three from the liaison team – will move to operational readiness in one more day. Cal has been working out the deployment options for them over the last 48 hours.
“The only unknown at this stage is where we might find the support structures for the mine. There are no buildings round the airfield either. That’s to make the landing strip look like the other mission airfields around Kalimantan. But it raises too many questions.
“The Cessnas that take the diamonds out are probably flying in petrol as a back load, but the small amount they can carry won’t be enough. And where would they store the fuel once they got it there?
“Vehicles have to run on something, and so do compressors down the mine. They can’t have heavy machinery, there’s no way to get it in there. labor’s cheap, though. So where are they keeping a large workforce?
“The tailings from a diamond mine don’t amount to much, but where are they dumping those?
“These are the questions we have to answer before we call in the main force. That’s our job over the next few days.”
He stopped abruptly, checking his mental list of what he had to cover. Yes, all done.
“Any questions?” he said at last.
There were. Lots of them.
The recon team knew each other well enough now to ask questions and not worry about looking a fool. Maric was pleased about that. It was a good sign.
Many of the questions were roundabout ways of looking for reassurance that everything had been thought of. Maric had felt the same concerns himself during these briefings.
He let the team talk themselves out. Going over everything time and time again was good. It helped him cement everything in place in his mind. And it would be the same for the recon team. Yet in the end, all their planning would count for very little.
It was the nature of the business. You made every logical preparation you could, then threw most of it out the window when you were in the field. There would always be eventualities you couldn’t see coming. A plan rigidly adhered to could get people killed.
At long last the intel session seemed to have ground to a natural close. Maric checked the time. There was an hour left to allow the team to wind down, and they’d be in their bunks by midnight. Good.
“Briefing over,” he said loudly, cutting through the noise from a couple of conversations that had veered away from the op details to more light-hearted chatter. It was a sign the team were feeling confident.
“Personal time from here on, folks. Lights out at midnight,” he finished, and the group started to disperse. Maric set up a recharge for the electronic devices he’d been using. He hooked them up to the tiny solar array he’d placed on the roof. Hendrik came to help him. Maric took the opportunity to ask the stocky recon man if there was anyone waiting back at home for him.
Hendrik produced a photo of two older people who must have been his parents, and three men who were obviously brothers.
“Family farm,” he said by way of explanation for the buildings and paddocks behind the figures. “I love it at home, but I love to get away too. That’s what families are like.”
Maric nodded. He wouldn’t know. Maybe one day.
He picked up the folded dish antenna for the satphone and went outside. He aligned it correctly and ran one more uplink to see if there was anything from Cal. Nothing. That was good. Last minute changes made him edgy.
His next uplink would be in the field. That meant carrying the folding dish antenna with him. Not something he was looking forward to, not when he’d already be carrying a full kit.
Maric plonked himself down on his favorite seat, an old wooden box from the generator shed. He leaned back against the wall of the ranger station.
Lost in his own musings – Maric’s way of winding down – he was surprised when he checked the time and found it was already midnight. A quick look inside showed him the spirit lamp was out and everyone was in a bunk. Except the trackers, and they’d be sleeping heavens knew where.
He settled back on his box seat once more and leaned back. He always gave the others time to nod off before he turned in. Let the team think he was beavering away after hours getting on top of things. Anything that made them feel safer.
“Getting cooler already,” said a voice at his elbow. Maric jerked awake, and the box he was sitting on dropped forward with a clunk from the wall. Trying to regain his dignity, he nonchalantly leaned it back against the wall.
“You’ve just added ten years to my life,” he said, his heartbeat slowing as he brought it under control.
“Good,” said Russo decisively, as she bent her knees and leaned against the wall next to him, “that’ll make you look your age. It’s unfair you should look so young.”
Maric smiled. More often than not his baby-faced looks worked against him, but the ladies generally found them attractive.
Women did seem more obsessed with aging than men, though he could see their point of view. Men got some gray in their hair and a few lines on their face and they were ‘distinguished’. Women got past some mysterious ‘best before’ date and got matronly. Then found they weren’t being checked out with the same enthusiasm as they walked by. On the other hand, if you kept yourself trim and made an effort, you were good for life. At least in Maric’s estimation.
“I can’t get over these tropical stars,” added Russo, looking up into the crisp, clear heavens.
Maric followed her gaze.
“You should see it later in the dry season,” he said, “when the villagers burn off as part of their slash and burn cycle for crops. Can’t see a thing through the smoke in the upper atmosphere. Makes for beautiful sunsets.”
She nodded.
“Looks extraordinary at the moment, though, doesn’t it,” he relented.
They enjoyed the moment for a few more seconds.
“Time to turn in. Big day tomorrow,” said Maric gently. He didn’t want to think about Russo on her back at the hideaway in Pontianak. It sidetracked his mind.
She smiled at the understatement, and stood. Maric made a waving motion with his hand. She hesitated, then let herself into the ranger station. A faint ‘good night’ echoed after her.
Maric felt good. Everything seemed to be okay between them.
CHAPTER 20
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They were underway by 0700 hours the following morning. The Kayan trackers ranged far ahead, out of sight, and Maric led the recon team in single file. Once they were on the old Dayak path, walking would become easier. It needed to. They had a lot of ground to cover by mid-afternoon.
Dick was unhappy to be left behind. And even more despondent to be told to take the land rover back to Pontianak. Maric had held firm.
He could imagine a worst-case scenario where the recon team was discovered and the Count’s security forces tracked them back to the logging camp. He wanted Dick long gone if that happened.
The camouflage outfits Cal had sent them were top of the line. One of the backers for the ‘gray’ operation had done a small run of high-tech fabric in a pattern called ‘Borneo Forest’, according to the label. The color composition had been taken from satellite images of the area they were heading into.
Maric wondered who had that sort of advanced production capability. More intriguingly, which government did they work for. It was a strange world Cal moved in these days.
Maric brought up an arm and examined the fabric more closely. As long as the clothing underneath the outfits was dull or dark, it was lost in the cool, porous material. There were dotted lines of a woven plastic running through it. Something that seemed to absorb light. It gave the suggestion they were constantly moving through shadows. Maric snorted, impressed. What would the boffins think of next.
The recon team followed the path the Kayans had marked the previous day. Then they came out on the old Dayak trail.
It was still in occasional use. Branches had been cut back and vines slashed at regular intervals. The marks were healed over, but the scars varied from a few months to a few years old.
