Scorpion's Reach, page 19
“I’ll get the crews briefed and kitted up sir,”
“We’ll be launching them in two hours,”
“Sir” the First officer stopped, “it sounds like a pretty dicey situation, is there any chance of support from anywhere else?” He felt bloody awkward, in fact almost cowardly asking, but he knew it’s the first question the teams will ask, no one wants to walk into a ‘shit-storm’ like they were going into without at least knowing they had some backup. Even if it was only ‘token’.
“Apparently” the captain looked nervous. The captain was fidgeting with his top pocket, where he used to keep his cigarettes. He’d only stopped smoking a couple of weeks ago. He really felt the urge. “There’s an SAS team on White Island. Apparently these drug dealers have got some hostages there.” He turned and looked at his ‘number one’ as the first officer or ‘exec’ is known as “ they’ll give assistance as soon as they’ve ‘neutralized’ those on the island. Whatever the hell that means”
Sometimes it’s just better not to ask those questions. You really might not like the answer. They decided this one of those times.
Chapter 27
“Update!” Mildred demanded, almost shouting as she came round the banks of computers, it’d only been fifteen minutes since the last ‘update’ but she’d had to go onto the secure line with London, and things changed fast.
“Scorpion One are at the staging area,” ponytail called out, “they’re doing a ‘recce’ as we speak.”
“We sent them all the latest?” It was a question more than a statement. Everyone knew it didn’t matter how much information they had, nothing was going to happen until the team was confident they had whatever they needed, and every one of the ‘enemy’ was accounted for. The only time that might change was when either the team was confident of the situation. Or the enemy started shooting hostages, then all bets were off!
“What about the rest?” She positioned herself so she could see the large screen that dominated the main wall. “What's the Wellington's situation?”
“She’s made good headway,” Mark replied, he’d been the one watching her.
“She’s just a hundred and twenty miles from our mystery guest, and making a shade over twenty-six knots,” he sounded puzzled.
“What’s the problem?” Mildred picked up on the puzzlement. If her team was worried, then she was!
“Oh, probably nothing really,” Mark began a reply, “just the books say the ‘protector’ class is only capable of twenty-two!”
Mildred actually smiled, “you should know not to believe everything in government papers, especially when it comes to ‘specs’, but make sure you adjust everything to read what we want it to!”
Mark smiled back, slightly embarrassed. He should have known that was the case. You never tell your enemy exactly what your kit can do, only what you think they want to hear. Or better yet, what you want them to hear. And they usually want to hear their stuff is better! It’s the spy’s job to find out if that’s true!
“How long before they launch the RHIBs?”
“Skipper says just over an hour and a half,” it was Cody who spoke this time, “and before you ask,” he went on, “it’ll take them forty-five minutes to reach the target.”
“Going like two bats of hell,” Mildred muttered quietly, not quietly enough though.
“When the day is done, and the sun goes down. I’ll be going like a bat out of hell. What we pay the big bucks for isn’t it, Ma’am” Cody couldn’t resist the quote and comment. She let it slide. They were all feeling the stress. A bit of humor never went amiss.
“What’s the range of those things?” She asked curious, fifty or so miles from the target seemed a bit far, for such a small boat that is!
“One thing you’ll realise, boss,” Cody cut in, “call those boats ‘small’ to any of their crews, and they damn well skin you alive!” He was concentrating on his computer screen, but still half watching her. “I did once. I was in a Navy bar in Davenport, believe me, it was a dangerous move!”
“They may be only about twenty-five feet long. But the aluminum hull fixed to the inflatable sides gives it a stability bigger ships can’t match, then throw in two three hundred horsepower outboards and you’ve got a boat that can ‘go like the bloody clappers’ in a serious sea storm. Clip on the fifty cals, and I’m beginning to feel sorry for the other poor sods on the other end!”
The RHIB's full name is Rigid Hull Inflatable Boat. They were first designed in the 1960s by the British Royal National Lifeboat Institute (RNLI). A volunteer lifeguard institute that has a kind of quasi-government standing as an unofficial Coastguard. They’re built for rough seas, and long range. That’s when they come into their own.
The Irish Sea and the English Channel are some of the roughest stretches of water on earth. So when they built a lifeboat that could actually get out to a shipwreck, they had to be tough and fast. Someone at some point had the idea of getting an aluminium hull for strength, sticking two inflatable sides on it, to prevent water filling it in heavy seas and sticking a huge outboard motor on the back. The result, spectacular! A boat that can go anywhere, racing in at nearly sixty knots (seventy-five miles an hour), do a three sixty degree turn in their own length (twenty-five feet) and make her crew of very experienced sailors very green at the gills.
As soon as they saw it, the British and US Navies said “We want them!” and pretty soon every navy in the world had them.
The Wellington had two, both twenty-five foot long, with gun mounts and two three hundred horsepower outboard motors that powered them along at nearly sixty knots (officially fifty-five knots) and were perfect for the rough seas they were in, not only that but they had the agility of a ballerina on steroids and pack a punch.
“I take it you’ve seen them in action then?”
“Hey, after an insult like I gave them,” Cody replied, “Punishment was going out on harbour patrol the next day. Man, I was as sick as a dog after the fifth pirouette! And scared shitless when we left the water for the tenth time as we were going full bore in fifteen foot waves! Hell, even the bloody ferry wasn’t running that day. But the bloody Navy insisted it was perfect for training.” He waved the index and second finger of each hand in a gesture that said he was quoting ‘verbatim.’
“So getting the Navy to the scene will not be a problem then!” It was a statement. “All we can do is wait until the team are ready,”
Sam hadn’t heard a thing for the last hour. They’d been dragged out of the helicopter, literally by the scruff of their necks. She figured they’d been dragged about a hundred yards. Then she heard the aircraft take off again. No one had spoken, no one had said a thing. Yet she knew they were there. She could hear a couple of them walking around. It was as if they were waiting for orders.
“Still with me Sam?” it was Hene who’d broken the silence. A couple of minutes after the aircraft had taken off, He’d tried to whisper to her. All he got was a kick in the ribs.
She coughed, not that she needed to. But as an acknowledgement, she was still here. Still alive, and while she wasn’t saying anything. They were finding where the boundaries were.
Was there any hope of getting out? She had to think that there was. But reality was it didn’t look too good. Apparently, these bozos thought that Sam and Hene knew something about how much the police knew about their operation. They must be worried, she thought to herself.
Most people would think they’d be scared in situations like that. You just don’t know what you’ll be! The most timid person can suddenly become as stubborn as a mule for no other reason than, yes, they’re scared. But they’re also pissed off and just decide “screw this, I’m giving these pricks nothing”.
Others, those whom you’d think would be tough men or women, can end up giving everything up within minutes ‘hoping to live’. Somehow, they just knew if they did that. They would not make it out alive. They had to ‘hang in there’ and believe that someone might come in time!
“Listen up folks,” Jacko spoke into the headsets. They were at the Staging point. Joey, Mac and Sandy were in a defensive position watching the side approaches while Smithy and Jacko had been watching the front. “Looks like they’ve got two camps here” He carried on, “One to the South, that’s where the hostages look to be. They’ve got two guarding them directly and three more patrolling where the huts are”
“They’re in the huts.” Sandy cut in. “That’s where the GPS trackers put them.” We’ve got ten huts altogether, probably with booby traps in.”
“That’s why you and Joey get the good jobs,” Jacko replied with a smile, “Smithy. You’ll make sure they get a ‘clean approach’, then come and assist us, right?”
“I take it we’ve got the fun bit then, boss,” Mac chirped in. “Joey gets to rescue the hostages and play the hero. While we do the proper work and take out the rest of the cutthroats and pirates here!” they all gave a little chuckle as Mac wasn’t so far from the truth.
“Yeah” Jacko sighed as he came round to that point, “Shit, no one expected they’d have a bleedin’ warehouse here!”
The other camp was on the Western side of the Island. Only about four hundred yards away. But totally different from the Southern side.
The original settlement had been on the Western side. Back in the nineteenth century, but an eruption took the lot out, and no one was ever found from the eruption. However, when the companies came back, they kept the mine on the western side and built fresh huts on the southern side; the result was that the miners lived in the south, but every morning they’d take a boat over to work the mine in the west. Eventually, someone put a small path in, but it was perfect for storing the contraband as tourists only came to the huts.
The mine was ‘off limits’ and supposedly sealed, but no one questioned tour operators going out there. And while the tourists were looking around. Someone was picking up the other supplies delivered by ship. Then they flew back to the mainland, none the wiser for sitting on a couple of hundred grand worth of cocaine or heroin!
“So far we’ve counted fifteen,” Smithy cut in, “But there could be more, and they’re well armed. Looks like they’ve got Uzis and the like. I even saw a couple of AKs,”
“What’s the intel on these people?” Joey asked. Sandy had said nothing, but maybe Jacko had been briefed.
“Nada,” Jacko replied, “All we know is they’ve got three Asians in jail in Auckland and a bunch of bikers in jail somewhere else. No idea who these might be, but the best guess is Triads, and that means anything from street thugs to SF guys on the payroll!”
“You really know how to make a guy’s day, don’t you, boss?” Joey joked back. They were all tense. Black humour works wonders in situations like this for relieving the tension.
“A man of your skills Joey?” Jacko was almost laughing. “Only three guards, and two more in the ‘zone’, should be a breeze!”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, boss,” Joey half joked back. SAS trained for this sort of stuff, but in a normal ‘breach’, there’d be an entire team going through the door. In this one, there’d be just him and Sandy. And they weren’t totally sure what was on the other side.
“Joey,” Smithy spoke next. “Those goons on the outside are doing an unpredictable pattern. Looks like they know what they’re doing that way, and they seem on edge, if you know what I mean, like they’re expecting someone?” The last part was part question, like there was something they might not have been told.
“Maybe I can explain that,” Sandy chipped in, she’d been quiet until now. “About a half hour ago they picked up another helicopter inbound, so Mildred got London to start draining the Bank accounts. The chopper turned back and headed out to sea. We think they’ve got a boat out there, and they’re probably panicking about where the bloody money’s gone!”
“Anyone looking for it?” Jacko asked, “the boat I mean!”
“HMNZS Wellington. She’s returning from the Kermadec islands. She’s bearing down on the area with a couple of RHIBs. We don’t think it’s a trawler, maybe a container ship. Big enough for a helicopter to land on.”
“Who’s giving the signal to kick off here, boss?” Joey brought the discussion back to the here and now with a practical question.
“You will, when you take down the two bozos in with the hostages,” Jacko replied. “We move out as soon as we’re done here, but give us an hour and a half for setup.”
“Okay, it’ll probably take us at least that to get past the three stooges, it should be a good timeframe, boss!”
“Then let’s get started.”
Chapter 28
Smithy was the first to move out. Everyone else stayed where they were until he called in. “Three, in position, looks clear.”
Next went Jacko and Mac. They had the furthest to go, and the longest to wait at the other end. Joey and Sandy had orders to give them fifteen minutes, then begin their approach. From that point on, in theory at least, everything should ‘just flow’. It never does, but it should.
The first part was pretty easy. They were moving across solid rock. Moving silently across the rock wasn’t hard. It isn’t if you know what you’re doing, and experience had taught them well.
Joey led the way, walking at first in a semi-crouch, something soldiers call a ‘monkey run’ for its similarity to the way Gorillas and chimpanzees run using their knuckles on their hands and feet.
They’d strapped the rifles over their backs, muzzles facing down. Using this method they could move faster than a normal walk, but slower than a run. More importantly, they kept low, blending in with the surrounding rocks. Joey was using his arms as they went to feel for any nasty surprises, like tripwires. He didn’t expect any, but that didn’t stop him checking.
Tripwires can come in all ways. From the elaborate wire with explosives attached to the simple piece of number eight wire with a coke can filled with pebbles. An effective ‘early warning device’.
They were wearing night vision visors which take the available starlight. By magnifying it a hundredfold, you get enough to see most objects. They appear in a green haze, good for aiming and taking a shot, but not enough for the little things, it’s always the little things that trip you up.
The first hundred yards they covered in about five minutes, stopping every ten to twenty paces to wait and listen.
“Ouch,” Sandy whispered, “caught my bloody knuckles,”
“You alright?” Joey stopped and turned around, concerned.
“Yeah,” Sandy sounded sheepish, “just clunked my bloody knuckles on a rock, that’s all,”
“Careful,” Joey mockingly advised, “rocks are harder than knuckles,” he chuckled.
“Watch it, buster,” Sandy retorted. “I’ve got a nine millimeter, and right now I’m happy to use it!” she joked back.
“And knuckles too sore to use it!” Joey joked, “seriously though, be careful, last thing we need is one of us getting incapacitated!”
They stopped, turned their night vision visors off, lifted them and checked her hand while their eyes came back to normal. It took fifteen minutes. The glove had taken the brunt of the scrape.
There was a good reason for deactivating the night vision. They’re great for getting you where you want to go without being seen, but as soon as a firefight starts, they aren’t just useless. They’re downright dangerous.
Night vision gear takes the minutest amount of light and magnifies it at least a hundredfold. Do that to just a match as it’s struck and the guy wearing the night vision gear will be blinded for minutes! It’ll literally take about fifteen minutes for the sight to come back. Now put that in the middle of a firefight with muzzle flashes and explosions going off and you’ve got a recipe for disaster, and total blindness with people running everywhere, blind as bats and straight into the line of fire, that’s why the night vision gear comes off before the fight starts.
It takes about fifteen to twenty minutes for the Mark 1 Human eyeball to adjust to low light. When it does, it’s not as great as the night vision gear, but good enough to aim a weapon in a firefight and make sure you take the target out. Joey and Sandy had a trick or two up their sleeves, an old WW2 trick a mentor of Joey’s once taught him. He went to work.
Taking a piece of chalk out of his pack Joey reached over and touched the muzzle of Sandy’s weapon with it, literally just by the front sight. He lightly coated the front sight in chalk.
“What the?” Sandy began.
“Look down the sight,” Joey urged her, “an old trick from a Commando I once knew.”
Sandy did. She looked down the barrel. It was faint, but there was no mistaking she could see the sight! “Well, I’ll be”
“No, you won’t,” Joey shot back. “This’ll keep us alive, not send us there!” He did the same to his own weapon. Only when he was satisfied did he put the chalk away and call Smithy.
“Three, this is four,” Joey clicked the radio on. “ We’re in position. Can see one bogey, where are the other two?”
“Three here,” Smithy came on. “One’s in the southern building, the others patrolling the other side, you’re good to go,”
“Roger that,” Joey clicked off. He left his weapon with Sandy and drew out his commando knife. Moving stealthily he left Sandy’s position and worked his way round behind the sentry. It took about two minutes.
Sandy took her MP5 back and took up the ready position. She had a ‘bead’ on the sentry who was coming their way, just in case things turned to custard.
“RHIB crews are ready, boss,” the NCO in charge spoke into his mike. He had the rank of leading hand with the insignia showing ‘combat specialist’. He looked only slightly older than a teenager. But he was in charge, and giving the orders. Turning to the rest of his crew, he switched channels on his radio and spoke to every man and woman in each boat, “final harness check folks, make sure you’re secured to the deck of your boat!”
