“I have already lost many men just getting here,” Bukara said, frowning. “They are running away. Let them go. We can deal with them in our own time.”
Haza tried not to snarl at what he saw as cowardice. He suspected mentioning his opinion would get him nowhere, what was more. He had dealt with many similar warlords in many lands. But he also knew they all had the same weakness…
“Besides capturing Sheik Al-Kaziri, these Keldara captured the money we had brought to this meeting.” Haza tried not to gulp at what he was about to do. Facing American Delta force would be smarter. “It was sixty million euros. If you destroy them, you can have half, to support your great jihad against the Russians.”
“As I said,” Bukara replied, immediately. “We must stop these Keldara from escaping. But they will not get far. The way they are trying to take out is blocked.”
“Do you have a map?” Saghedi asked. “Show me.”
“Here is the road,” Bukara said, tracing it on the map. “This is the furthest point of Georgian control, in the pass. Commander Sadim has a blocking force already in place, over two hundred fedayeen, in bunkers and with heavy weapons.” He pointed to the spot and shrugged. “There is a gorge there. The Keldara will not be able to go around before we reach them.”
“Sadim is here?” Haza said, surprised.
“I only recently got word he was coming to this sector,” Bukara said, stone faced. “But, yes, his advanced units are already at the border crossing and the rest of his units are close behind. He may yet cut them off.”
“They might also anticipate it,” Saghedi pointed out, looking around the map. “They will get off the road… here,” he said, pointing to where a small stream crossed it. “Destroy the vehicles. Perhaps boobytrap them. Then they will either move to flank your positions or towards this pass.”
“Guerrmo,” Bukara said, frowning. “We have a small force there. Really just a few bunkers to stop the Georgians from sending patrols through there. They are oriented to the south. They will be able to take those easily. When this happened Commander Suliman sent some of his men down into the hills in case they headed that way. But only a few patrols; the most they can do is sting them.”
“Then we have to block them,” Saghedi said. “Do you have any guides that really know these hills? I need them and… a hundred men if you can spare them. I hate to ask but they must be many of your best. In shape, capable of running in these hills and able to really shoot. We will take only light ammunition and water and go to… this point.” He pointed to a hilltop at the north entrance of the pass. “They will have to pass this point. We will also take shovels, yes?”
“Can you beat them there?”
“ I can,” Raza said, straightening up. “Can your men keep up is the question? And you must contact Commander Sadim, now. Tell him to try to cut them off sooner. But get him moving.”
“I see,” Bukara said, nodding as he listened on the satellite phone. “Yes, I will do that.”
He sighed as he hung up. Sadim was not going to like this.
“They want you to call Sadim directly,” Sayeed said, shaking his head. “Don’t they?”
“They do,” Bukara replied, trying not to curse. “And they aren’t going to send me any of his codes; even they are not so stupid.” He picked up the phone and dialed a number.
“This is Commander Bukara,” Bukara said, wincing. “I must talk to your commander.”
“Sadim.”
Gregor Sadim’s white mustache was twitching furiously, a sure sign that he was agitated, and his aides politely turned away.
The entire march had been, from an electronic perspective, perfect. Although they might have been picked up by satellites, although there might have been a rumor of their passing, they had only used codes. No unit designators. And all of it highly encrypted.
The offensive out of the Pansiki was designed to catch the Russians off-guard, at a time when they were retreating to winter quarters. Although the Russians were, proverbially, good winter fighters, they had gotten used to the Chechens pulling back over winter. With luck the offensive, led by the Sadim Brigade, would catch them off-guard and roll them back.
That was probably blown now based on one damned phone-call.
“This is Commander Bukara,” the man on the phone said. “And let me start by saying that High Command ordered me to contact you in this way. We have a situation.”
Sadim was sixty-two and had attained the rank of major in the Red Army before retiring. Despite a membership from an early age in the Communist Party, he had, his whole life, been a believing Muslim. With the fall of the Soviet Union and the rise of the jihad he had left his country home and joined the jihad, one of the first trained officer to do so. Since then he had built his reputation, and unit, into one of the finest the mujaheddin had. Disciplined, experienced and well armed, it was the Chechen’s crack force which was why it had been moved to this sector.
But he was well trained, and personally disciplined, so he controlled his fury.
“What is the situation?” he asked.
“Oh… damn,” Greznya said as the intercept popped up. The satellite call had been open circuit and the voices were distinct even if both of them hadn’t identified themselves. And she recognized the name.
“Colonel Nielson?”
Vanner’s C2 started buzzing, frantically, and he paused to draw it out.
The Keldara were retreating at a trot but he was keeping up just fine. He’d never let himself get out of condition after getting out of the Marines and had worked on it harder since joining the Kildar. The girls were doing fine as well, especially since dropping their rucks.
In fact, the way things were going they should get to the pass by dawn and be out of here.
He pulled up the C2, looked at the data and blanched.
They’d better clear the pass by dawn.
“Kildar!” he said, running up the hill. “Kildar! You need to see this.”
“Command, this is Dragar Five.”
The commander of the light reconnaissance vehicle looked at the cluster of cars and trucks then at where the roadbed had been beaten down.
“Dragar Five, Command.”
“Command, the Keldara force has left the road at point nine-two-one,” the LRV commander said. “Force size unknown. Path indicates a generally southerly route. Terrain is unsuited to pursuit.”
“Four thousand,” Mike said, his jaw working. “Fuck me. Fuck us.”
“It’s worse than that, sir,” Vanner said, quietly. “Sadim’s their varsity. Former Soviet officer, very professional one, school trained at Frunze which was their equivalent of the War College. His unit is considered their best field combat unit. Lots of heavy weapons, tanks, the works. The girls started picking up signals a couple of days ago but up until just now we didn’t know who it was. Or the size of the force. They were apparently moving over here to push this sector against the Russians. Maybe against us but the Russians are more likely. But now… ”
“He’s going to be on our ass,” Mike said. “Well, we just have to run faster. Send a message to the Teams; we’re trading stealth for speed. If we get hit by an ambush, counterassault and screen through. Fortunately, except for the bunkers the pass should be clear… ”