The Exfiltrator by Garner Simmons (read after txt) 📗

within 200 meters, the basic instruction provided all one really needed to know:  How to arm it; how to aim it; how to fire. The key was getting close enough that you couldn’t miss.  Fire it once, then throw the casing away.

“You will have only one shot,” Jarral was saying.  “So you must get as close to the landing area as you can.  Wait for the helicopter to settle.  Line up the sights and then press the trigger.  You take out the helicopter.  Leave Tariq to us.  Let Allah be our strength and may we meet again in paradise.”

“As-salamu alaykum”

“Wa’alaykumu asalam”

Peace be upon you.  The irony of the words were not entirely lost on Karim as he nodded, then slung the weapon over his shoulder. Hurrying back the way he had come, he tried not to think of his parents or how they might react to what he was about to do. This was Jihad.  A Holy War.  Part of God’s plan. After all, did it not say in the holy Qur’an: “We will cast terror into the hearts of those who disbelieve.  For what they have associated with Allah, He has not sent down.  And their refuge will be the Fire, and wretched is the residence of the wrongdoers.”  And in the end, what was a helicopter if not a residence of war?

*****

It had taken almost three-quarters of an hour before the distinctive sound of the chopper’s rotors could be heard echoing off the mountains as it approached from the sea, its red and green running lights strobing as it came.  Retrieving his jacket, he slipped it back on.  Then reaching into his pocket, Corbett took out his buck knife and made a small cut in Tariq’s trousers halfway down his thigh.  Then retrieving the Atropine Auto-injector that Fleckner had given him, he removed the safety cap and drove the needle directly into Tariq’s left quadriceps.  Instantly, Tariq’s body responded as the Atropine jolted through his system.  Eyes open, he looked around momentarily disoriented, uncertain where he was.

“Tariq…?” Corbett said as evenly as he could. “Listen to me.  The chopper’s almost here.  I’ve got to set the flares. You understand?”  Tariq blinked but said nothing. “You understand what I’m saying?” Corbett repeated his instruction.  After a moment’s hesitation, Tariq finally managed a nod.  “Good.  Be right back.”

Grabbing the backpack containing the road flares, Corbett pocketed the dual-purpose LED flashlight and scrambled out into the dark night. He could see the chopper still several miles out but coming his way.   Moving quickly, he ran to the center of the mesa that extended 50 meters in front of the cave’s entrance, attempting to make certain the chopper’s blades would have sufficient clearance.  Then igniting each road flare, he planted them at the four corners defining an impromptu landing zone.  Equipped with night vision, the helicopter was closing fast.  Corbett ran back to wait with Tariq as the chopper made its final approach and the pilot prepared to set it down.

 

 

 

TWENTY-SIX

H aving heard the sound of the helicopter approaching as well, Sebastian, Hector, and Roberto stood with the others just outside the cook tent as the three university security men joined as well.  The perimeter of the camp was marked by a half-dozen five-foot kerosene torches that were lit every evening and extinguished each dawn.  Gorka came out of the cook tent, stepping beyond the torchlight and staring up the mountain toward the cave as the chopper hovered above the landing zone illuminated by the eerie glow of the flares below.

“What is this?” Gorka asked.

“One of the day workers from the village,” Roberto replied.  “He’s become ill and needs to be evacuated.”

Sebastian frowned, “We must be careful that whatever it is doesn’t infect the whole camp.  Did you see the man?”

“Si. He did not look too good,” Roberto added.

“What about Karim?” Sebastian asked.  “He still hasn’t come down.”

“He was right behind me,” Roberto answered.  “Perhaps he went back to help.”

“I have hunger,” Hector said, annoyed at the interruption.  Turning away from the others, he added, “Let’s eat.”

As they adjourned to the cook tent to resume their meal, a lone figure slipped past the camp unseen, moving in and out of the shadows.  Carrying the three-foot long handheld rocket launcher, Karim moved quickly up the path toward the cave.

*****

At the same time, deep below the surface, Ella had turned her attention to the lighting problem presented by the shadow cast by the rock overhang across the far right-hand portion of the cave painting.  But as she began resetting and adjusting her lights, she became aware that the power source to her MP3 was beginning to fade.  Removing the unit from her belt, she was just kneeling to replace the batteries when a strange new sound intruded on the silence.  It echoed off the walls of the cavern like someone revving up a large engine somewhere high up in the darkness near the mouth of the cave.  As the sound grew louder, she removed her earbuds, attempting to identify the source.  Confused, she hesitated, uncertain what action she should take.  Deciding against doing anything rash, she continued to kneel motionless beneath the overhang, listening, waiting for the sound to abate.

*****

Unaccustomed to strenuous exercise, Karim could feel the burning sensation in his legs and his lungs as he forced himself up the incline.   For the sake of accuracy, he knew he had to get as close as he possibly could.  Dust had begun to billow up, filling the air as the helicopter began its decent.  At roughly fifty meters, Karim finally dropped to one knee behind a small scrub oak and unlimbered the LAW.  Unlocking and relocking the concentric tubes, he slipped the trigger housing into position while simultaneously shouldering the weapon.  As the chopper touched down, Karim pressed his eye against the sight.  For an instant, he hesitated