The voice out of the darkness startled the three men, and instantly Sean Macintosh had his weapon at the ready until he recognized Gunner striding toward them out of the cover of the brush.
“What’s the word, Gunner?” Sean asked softly.
Gunner was wearing a covert communications device with a throat mike, the earpiece in place. “Hold one, I’ll check.” The stocky, hard-as-nails Aussie faced inland, jabbed the PTT, Push to Talk button, and quietly spoke a few words, waiting for a response. He then turned back to Sean.
“It’s ‘stand by’ at the moment, Sean. Wilson says the place is still dark and quiet.”
“Right, then, let’s get this raft into the bush and you can show Carlos the way. Gunner, this is Carlos Castro, U.S. Marines. He’ll go in alone. You and Wilson are backup, outside security.”
“Right, mate.”
They pulled the raft up on the sandy beach and dragged it into the cover of a small cluster of scrub brush. Gunner took a few steps back toward Sean and Carlos, who were huddled up near the raft, whispering in the dark.
“Ready to go, Carlos? The LUP is about ten minutes over that hill,” he said, nodding in a northwest direction, “and Wilson says ‘all clear,’” he added, tapping his earpiece.
“Let’s do it,” Carlos replied.
Two thousand yards off-shore, Rainbow Blue anchored in a calm, outgoing tide. Cameron Rossiter and Pug Connor settled in to wait for the return of the landing party. Cameron went below and retrieved a tin of crackers, diced up a wedge of cheese, and grabbed two plastic bottles of water from the small propane fridge. He returned on deck and handed a bottle of water and a paper napkin with cheese and crackers to Pug. Then he sat on the port railing, and both men began to eat quietly. Cameron spoke first.
“Have you ever wondered which is worse: waiting for the team to report in, or being part of the team about to go into action?”
Pug nodded his understanding. “You mean, ‘They also serve who sit and wait.’ ”
“Something like that,” Cameron laughed, then changed the subject. “Carlos said you and he had served together before, some years ago in Pakistan.”
“We did. He’s an outstanding Marine. I’ve had my life in his hands more than once.”
“Has he always been Muslim?” Cameron asked. “I noticed him in morning prayers earlier, up on deck.”
“No, he was raised Catholic. Embraced Islam about ten or twelve years ago.”
“Do you know what took him down that path?”
“A woman.”
Cameron laughed. “Of course, what else? I’ve got two Muslims in my outfit as well. I’ve wondered how they feel about this increasing religious war. It must be tough to fight your own brothers.”
“Man has been fighting his religious brothers for centuries, but not always under a religious banner. Carlos has a good understanding of the situation,” Pug said, pausing to take a long drink. “He believes the fanatics and their Mullahs have abandoned the faith, perverted their god.”
“Is he still with the woman who converted him?”
Pug ate another hunk of cheese, sandwiched between two crackers, looking out over the ocean before he replied. “She’s dead. He met her when he was on a black ops mission in the Philippines, acting as an adviser to local forces to identify and eliminate insurgent groups. He met a young Filipina doctor. She was working to vaccinate village children when Carlos’s small Philippine army squad took some casualties. They came into the village for medical treatment. Carlos got himself assigned permanently to the local Marine unit. He fell in love with her, they got married, and Carlos spent the next sixteen months in what he calls the best time of his life. Sometimes he’d be in the jungle hunting terrorists. Sometimes she’d be in the villages providing medical assistance. She was a devout Muslim. He came to believe in the faith, and the rest was history.”
“How did she die?” Cameron asked.
“The rebel group found out that she was married to Carlos. Seven of them caught her in one of the villages, then tortured, raped, and killed her. She was carrying their first child. Over the next several months, without assistance from his local unit, Carlos found every one of them, one by one. He’s been a different man ever since, but still someone I’d trust to have my back in a tough situation.”
“Different in what way?” Cameron asked.
Again, Pug was silent, looking out over the vast expanse of the ocean as the yacht gently rolled in the off-shore waves. “He’s a natural warrior, an instinctive killer, truth be known, but once this happened, he looks for opportunities to kill the bad guys. It’s not just another mission-it’s a quest, a vocation. I think he believes he can right the world’s ills, one terrorist at a time. In twenty years, I’ve not seen a man I thought could best him up close and personal.”
Cameron nodded slowly, finishing his cheese and crackers. “Glad he’s on our team.”
Carlos, Gunner, and Wilson lay on the hillside until about 10:30 P.M., taking turns watching the cabin, using a telescopic night sight. No entry or exit occurred during that time, but Gunner had informed Carlos that two Indonesians had entered the cabin earlier that morning, remaining inside throughout the day. He showed Carlos two photos on a small electronic device.
“We emailed these images back to SAS HQ. They confirmed these were two of the five terrorists who participated in the Fremantle bombing about eight months ago. They killed nineteen Australians. That’s why I’d like to go in with you and kill the bastards.”
Carlos nodded. “I’m going in alone. I’ll handle it.”
Wilson confirmed that all three men had remained in the cabin, two in the front room, with the primary target out of sight toward the back left of the cabin. The three of them watched until the lights went out in the cabin about 11:30 P.M.
At 1:40, the moon cloistered behind a thick bank of low-lying clouds, Carlos pulled his gear together and prepared to leave the observation site, two hundred meters seaward from the cabin. “I’m going down that slight incline over on the right. I’ll approach slowly and be in position in about forty minutes,” Carlos said. “Before I enter, I’ll give you a quick laser beam. Depending on what I find, I’ll be out in three minutes, or it might take a half hour. I won’t know until I decide if I’m going to snatch or terminate. I’ll contact you with a sitrep as soon as the situation is under control. If there’s no contact in the first twenty minutes, you can assume I’ve encountered a problem. Return to the Zodiac and advise General Connor.”
“You don’t want us to come in and lend a hand?” Gunner asked.
Carlos shook his head. “No. He’ll be dead or I will… or both. If not, I’ll bring him out.”
With that, Carlos slipped quietly into the darkness of the foliage, slowly making his way toward the silhouette that represented the cabin. Gunner and Wilson waited on the hillside, Gunner wearing the night vision equipment and watching Carlos for most of his approach. Just before entering the cabin, the Marine lay silently near the front steps, listening for any sound from within. After about ten minutes, he rolled slightly and gave a quick flash from his penlight laser toward Gunner’s position.
Carlos donned a gas mask apparatus with night vision capabilities and readied a small aerosol container, then began his approach to the cabin door. He picked the rather primitive lock on the door in seconds. Once inside, Carlos paused beside the entrance for several minutes, listening intently. He could detect the sound of deep breathing and the smell of alcohol and cigarettes.
The cabin was essentially one large room. He could see an L-shaped angle toward the south end where he assumed Wolff was located. The two other men were sleeping, one on the couch, and one on the floor, with several blankets wrapped around his dark form. Carlos pressed the top button on the aerosol device, emitting a slight hissing sound. A colorless, odorless gas escaped into the room, drifting across the body of each of the two sleeping men. Carlos then replaced the can in his side pocket and moved a step at a time toward the nearest man. He unsheathed his six-inch, serrated Fairbairn tactical knife and slowly knelt down beside the body on the couch. The man was turned, face toward the backrest. In one swift, but silent, motion, Carlos placed one hand over the man’s mouth and sliced the Fairbairn across his throat, holding him quiet until his body relaxed. He watched the second man as the first bled out, ready to move quickly if he exhibited any sign of awakening.