“We’re going to make sure that you don’t get that chance,” Turner replied as Samuel and Yashiro climbed in the back seat. “We’re headed now to stop your Scalar weapon and put an end to your sick, twisted scheme.”
“You mean you’re taking me to Osama’s facility?” Pencor asked in perverse joy. “Good,” he said laughing aloud. “I’m sure my associates will be more than glad to see you, and your friends. You should have made your escape when you had the—” His ranting was cut short as Samuel jammed the barrel of his 45 stiffly into the back of Pencor’s head.
“Amigo, if you don’t shut your trap, I’m personally going to throw you off the next cliff we come to, understand?”
“Very well,” he responded, knowing that these were desperate men; desperate men, in his world, always made fatal errors. All I have to do is to wait until the time is right, he mused with a malevolent grin as the Mercedes sped up the access road to the Bishamon compound.
After a few miles, Turner could see the foreboding facility and its rolling gate. He pulled over and came to a stop on the side of the gravel road.
“Cover him. I’m going to have a look-see,” he said, as he got out and walked to the rear of the car with the binoculars Captain Saune had given him. He peered through the binoculars at the facility and slowly lowered his gaze to the gate area. He saw a transport truck with at least fifteen armed men, who seemed to be loading the back of the vehicle with supplies. Shifting his view to the gate, he saw four armed guards milling about the guard shack. Without taking his eyes off the compound, he hit the transmitter button on his VHF radio link.
“Captain Saune, do you read me?”
After a few moments his earpiece came to life with the sound of Saune’s voice behind the noise of the Bell 205 Huey helicopter.
“Go ahead, Josh. I read you,” he replied.
“We’re positioned about a quarter mile from the main gate. I’m seeing at least nineteen armed combatants in the compound’s front gate area, and have no way to tell how many of Osama’s goons are stuffed inside the facility,” Turner reported. “What’s your ETA?”
“Give us ten minutes, Josh. We’re coming in from the western slopes with the sun at our backs.” Saune responded. Samuel got out of the car and walked back to his friend, while Yashiro continued to guard Pencor.
“Roger that, Captain. We’ll await your signal, and then move out. Good luck to you and your men,” Turner said.
“And to you, my friend,” Saune responded, with utmost admiration for this steadfast man that he had come to respect. “See you in the control room. Saune — out.”
“We have about ten minutes, Samuel,” Turner said solemnly, lowering his binoculars and seeing the smile on the face of the tough Peruvian.
“Are you ready, amigo?” Samuel asked in a carefree manner, as if they were merely going to a ball game.
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” he replied, looking at his friend. “You’re a good friend, Samuel; you didn’t have to go along with this nutty plan, you know.”
“Hey, don’t worry. It’s a cinch getting in there,” he stated, pointing to the Bishamon building in the distance. “Besides, we have Pencor, so we don’t need no stinking key,” he added, in an exaggerated accent that caused Turner to laugh aloud.
“Samuel,” he said after a few silent moments. “If I don’t make it out, I want you to tell my dad….”
“Hey, Josh,” Samuel softly interrupted. “No more talk like that, okay? You’ll see your dad real soon.” After many silent minutes, the two heard the classic thumping sound of the Bell 205 coming from the western flank of the mountain.
Pulling the 45 from the holster, Turner looked at his friend and smiled a wide grin. “Lock and load, my friend; it’s Miller time.”
“If it’s all the same to you, Josh, I’d rather have a Corona,” Samuel responded. The two jumped back into the car and started up the road toward the gate as the Bell 205 Huey came into view above the landing plateau at the lower access of the compound.
‘“Cry havoc, and let slip the dogs of war.”’ Samuel whispered from the back seat, quoting Shakespeare's Julius Caesar and poking the back of a confused Pencor’s head with his pistol.
“You didn’t finish the quote, pal,” Turner said as they neared the gate, his mind now steeled for the conflict that lie ahead.
‘“…That this foul deed shall smell above the earth with carrion men, groaning for burial.”’
28
Unbeknownst to Captain Saune, the Bishamon guards had been doubled at the lava tube’s entrance as a result of the brazen escape that morning by he and Turner in the Sikorsky. The Bell 205, flown by he and his men, quickly dropped into the compound’s landing platform.
The unexpected arrival of the Huey managed to catch the Yakuza soldiers off guard, allowing the crucial seconds needed for them to touch down on the makeshift landing pad and stir a dust cloud into the air. Those precious seconds gave Captain Saune and his men time to leap from the side door of the Huey and make a run for an outcropping of boulders some fifteen feet distant.
The precious moments ended abruptly, however, as the Yakuza soldiers quickly recovered and gunfire erupted from the lava tube entrance high above them. The Tenerife National Guardsmen dove for cover behind the boulders, but Saune and his men quickly returned a deadly barrage of weapons fire from their M16A1 rifles. The six mercenaries quickly scattered for cover under the onslaught.
Saune knew in seconds that they were in a strategically precarious position. He didn’t expect the entrance to be this heavily guarded, but rather hoped that minor resistance would have made it easier for them to summit the rise to the cave entrance. With a loud alarm blaring from the facility above them, the six combatants at the lava tube entrance were soon re-enforced from within the facility. They unleashed a fierce volley against Saune and his men, trapped in their exposed position far below.
“We’re sitting ducks here, Captain,” Sergeant Juan Ortega yelled as he let loose another flurry of shots at the cave entrance. “We have to get to higher ground.”
“I’m aware of that, Sergeant,” Saune yelled back, scanning the area for a possible means of gaining a better tactical position.“There!” he yelled, pointing to the loading platform that served them during their wild escape earlier that day. “We’ll split and start a flanking maneuver at the loading platform where the conveyer belt is. “You four,” he yelled, pointing to the four soldiers at the far end of the boulder. “I want you to lay down staggered left-to-right grenade fire every five seconds. That should give time for the rest of us to make it to that metal platform.”
Understanding the captain’s plan, the four men at the end readied the 40mm M203 grenade launchers that were attached to their M16s.
“On my mark—” Saune yelled, counting to three under his breath. “Now!” he yelled as the last man in his skirmish line jumped up and fired the rifle-propelled grenade. The subsequent explosion sent the surprised Yakuza men scrambling for cover. The bloody remains of one of Osama’s men showered the lava tube’s entrance. Captain Saune and the other four men jumped into action and scrambled towards the metal platform. Ten meters seemed like a mile as the next of Saune’s men unleashed another grenade. The Yakuza guards eventually realized the potential flanking maneuver and responded with a murderous spray of gunfire, killing the last man of Saune’s group just before he reached the cover of the platform. The four remaining at the platform returned fire and eliminated another of Osama’s men.