Clever little gadgets.
She also had a few claymores, which she could set up as a last line of defense. These she could set for either proximity detonation, when someone tripped the lasers, or for manual detonation.
As our containers were loaded into the truck, Helena and I tossed and bumped into each other uncomfortably. Once we were finally secured we started to speed away down the road. I checked my watch and hoped the dock boss waited until later this morning before he started asking questions about why a half dozen containers were loaded at one in the morning and mysteriously transported away. I also hoped the guards around town didn’t ask any questions either.
Currently, my eye piece showed real time imagery from the Argos II Reconnaissance Satellite. Each member of the team had a wrist implant that we received from our respective militaries upon completion of basic training. They provided a few functions, but were currently used as locator beacons that showed up as pulsating dots on my screen. Seven of these dots were currently spread out in a line, pulsing green, indicating life signs were nominal. Another nice function of Santino’s UAV was that it not only provided aerial imagery, but also updated the locator beacons’ positions as well as our vital signs. It allowed for continuous data updates even if every single satellite somehow spontaneously went off line.
Manipulating the small joystick that extended from a wrist sheath, which worked just like a mouse attached to any household computer, I zoomed out on the image to show our position, and where we were heading. Using two small buttons I traced a line from our position to the enemy cave, and had the computer calculate the distance. A half second later, the computer estimated we were about six miles from our target destination. Helena would be jumping off about a mile out, finding a good spot to cover us.
The map also showed a green square deep inside the city. I wasn’t sure what it was so I clicked on it, only to realize it was probably our equipment cache. As a precaution, I had the computer calculate the fastest route from our target location to the cache, mapping it out with straight red lines, with blue flashing dots as waypoints. Once it showed up on my screen, I saved it and filed it away in case we needed it in the future. It was better to be safe than sorry, and it was as easy as voicing a quick command into my microphone to call it up.
I retracted the joystick on my wrist sheath and opened the protective flap away from my forearm. It revealed a small LCD screen about half the length of my forearm. It was a touchpad readout for my computer stowed in my back pouch. I called up a simplified E-mail system, meant to send small packets of information that worked with Santino’s UAV that projected an encrypted Wi-Fi network we were all connected to. The information we sent to one another was coded, and nearly impossible to crack. I quickly typed in Cave — › Cache, attached the file, and sent the data containing our escape route on its way.
“Nice thinking, Lieutenant,” Helena said a few seconds later. “It’ll be good to have this in a pinch if things get nasty.”
“You being nice to me, Strauss?”
“No. Just keeping you honest.”
“Right. So, you ready to jump? Looks like we’re almost there.”
“Yeah. I called up the info on my lens, I’m ready to go.”
“Good. Just, umm, well, you know, be careful.”
She was silent. She knew I was serious. Combat was tough, both physically and mentally, no matter how experienced an operator you are.
“Thank you, Jacob,” she said quietly. “To be honest, I’m a little nervous. I’ve been in the field many times before, but something just feels wrong about this one. Like there’s something we’re missing.”
No kidding, but there was no sense telling her I felt the same way. I didn’t want to add to her discomfort, so I stayed quiet, waiting for her to continue.
I felt her shift in her position. “But don’t worry, I’ll cover your back. We’ll get through this with no problem, and be back in Rome in a few hours listening to Santino complain about something. Hey, maybe we’ll get a little down time. What better place to be based out of than Rome?”
I felt the same way.
“You be careful too, Jacob,” she said finishing her thoughts. “I’m just starting to like you, and I’d hate to have to make Santino my new best friend on the team.”
I had to laugh at that. She’d soon realize that, really, he could be as best a friend as they came.
“I will.”
Maybe we were having a moment here, but I had no idea. Emotions were always high during operations, and could lead to false positives. It was probably for the best.
Mission first.
A few minutes later she started shifting again, ready to disembark the vehicle.
“Well, Lieutenant, if you’re quite done… what is it you Americans say… ‘spooning me,’ I’m ready to go.”
I coughed but recovered quickly.
“Don’t worry, Strauss. I’ve had better.”
“Ooh, you’ll pay for that one.”
I laughed. “Just get out of here,” I said with a gentle nudge.
“Good luck,” she said, opening one of the double doors. Taking a deep breath, she clutched her rifle close, and leapt out into the darkness.
I saw her hit the ground roughly, roll twice, and come up on a knee. She immediately slung her rifle and pulled her P90 from its secure location on her back all in one fluid motion.
I spared a wide eyed look for just a moment. That had been damn impressive. I shut the door as quickly as I could, surrounding myself in darkness once again, this time alone. It was more nerve wracking than I’d thought it would be. I tried to comfort myself by slowly stretching myself out in the more expansive space I now had.
I kept close watch on my lens, watching the green dot that was Helena slowly move off into the narrow alleyways of the town. She would be fine. I shouldn’t dwell on her. It would only lead to distraction. I zoomed in the view on my lens so it only encompassed the grouping of green dots surrounding my own, eliminating Helena’s position from view. If something happened to her, the computer will let me know.
***
It wasn’t long before my GPS tracker showed we were coming up on what I assumed was some kind of military checkpoint. The truck started to slow, confirming my suspicion, before coming to a complete stop.
This was it. If the driver, whoever he was, couldn’t smooth talk his way through the guards, we were as good as dead.
Hearing muffled voices outside, I pulled out my Sig P220. It was equipped with a suppressor, so I could make silent work of any potential peeping Toms, and hopefully turn a bad night into a slightly less shitty one.
I held my breath, hoping the additional silence would prompt the checkpoint guards to send us on our way. Three minutes in, I began to feel the need to breath, but knew I could hold it for another two minutes if I needed. SEALs spent considerable time training our lungs to be as proficient as possible under water. As a result, we could withstand pressure at slightly deeper depths than most people, and could hold our breath well beyond the average minute and a half.
Just in case.
Thankfully, a few seconds after the fourth minute rolled around, the driver gunned the engine and I slowly exhaled under cover of the moving vehicle.
So far, so good. All we needed to do was make it through the guards at the entrance to the enemy’s base, and we could slip out of the containers in the unloading area. Hopefully, most of the base would be asleep and only a few drowsy guards would be milling around. At least that was the plan.
Thankfully, the rest of the trip was relatively uneventful. We slowed as we rolled up to the base’s entrance, but the guard must have waved us through because we quickly sped up and moved inside. As we passed into the cave, my GPS stopped updating through the satellite, and instead our green dots were overlaid against a black background. Thanks to the UAV, stowed away but still active, we could at least keep track of where we were in relation to each other, but lost all terrain details.