Chapter 6
"Finch. Cowboy. Take the northeast entrance. Hick, you and Toad, have the gate. Railroad, are you settled?"
"Affirmative. I'm in the nest. Thermographics make three inside the first room and four in the second. No guards."
Once again, that feeling of unease slid over Bruiser's consciousness. Intelligence pointed to the house as being the home of one of the top ten terrorist leaders, but Bruiser had his doubts. Haafiz al-Bashir had taken credit for a dozen terrorist activities spread over three continents. Although he prided himself as a humble man of the people, al-Bashir, like many of his compatriots preferred a more upscale lifestyle. The so called "compound" they were about to raid looked more like a farm rather than a terrorist cell. Made of simple mud brick walls and hard, tamped floors, the building sat low in the moonlight-drenched valley. There was also a marked absence of military presence. The whole thing put Bruiser on high alert. Either this was a huge mistake, or things were going to go sour.
Bruiser gave the nod to the two men crouched beside him. Dressed in all black including knit hats pulled low, they drew their weapons and leaned slightly forward. Bruiser hated having civilians along on a mission, but he had no choice; orders were orders. He whispered to them, "Stay here. We'll secure the building and then bring you in." He pointed to the top of a water tower. "Railroad is there. He's got his eye on you. If it goes FUBAR, he'll guide you out of here and to the evacuation point." He tapped his ear, indicating the hidden earpiece. "He'll let you know when to move." Bruiser pulled his Colt M4A1 assault rifle up and glared at them. "For the record, I was against bringing you with us until everything was secured. We could have brought any informants back to base."
The taller man known only as Madison snarled his nose. "Noted. I believe we already went over this song and dance of yours back at base, soldier. You do your job and let us do ours. This isn't our first rodeo." Beside him, Raulston lifted his chin in agreement.
Idiots. "More like a circus than a rodeo," Bruiser muttered under his breath. Crouching down, he took several breaths then whispered into the mic. "Go."
The team moved with the practiced ease of a well-rehearsed dance. Toad rolled a flash bang into the compound courtyard as Cowboy did the same around the back. The detonation created momentary confusion which the SEALs used to their advantage. Rushing into the front room, Toad and Hick secured the area quickly and rounded up the occupants who were screaming and rubbing their eyes. Similar sounds erupted from the adjoining room where Cowboy and Finch entered. Within moments, the compound was secured without a single shot being fired. Thank God. Bruiser much preferred this to the alternative.
"Man, something ain't right," Cowboy hissed as Bruiser entered. "There are three women and four kids."
"Put them all in here," Bruiser barked even as his sense of unease tickled at the back of his brain. Cowboy was right. Something was wrong with this whole operation. This was much too easy. "Cowboy, stay here. The rest of you search. See if there's a hidey-hole or tunnel. If al-Bashir is here, we need to find him." Looking around as the group assembled next to him he gave the "all clear" for the two agents attached to the mission.
Madison and Raulston strolled into the hard packed courtyard with an air of superiority on their smug faces. Gritting his teeth, Bruiser stood back, his finger resting beside the trigger guard. Freaking spooks. He hated these political missions when one of the three letter government acronyms had the lead.
Madison stopped a couple of feet from the frightened group and glared at them. Pointing at one of the older boys, he snarled, "You." Taking a step forward, he grabbed the teenager by the shoulder of his tunic and pulled him to his feet. "Watch them," Madison growled at Bruiser and shoved the boy into an adjoining room with Raulston following closely behind.
Bruiser looked back where Cowboy stood. His friend lifted his shoulders in a gesture that said he didn't know what was happening either. The feeling of unease escalated when Hick entered the room and gave the signal they hadn't found anything. There were no holes, secret rooms or tunnels. None of the usual tricks were used here. Either the terrorists had learned new ways to avoid discovery, or this was just as innocuous as it seems. Bruiser swore under his breath. The bad feeling had become a warning screaming in his head. He needed to know what was going on. Being in the dark led to crap going down wrong and people getting hurt. The team was his brothers, and he wasn't about to let anyone hurt them especially not over something stupid like what he suspected was going on in the next room. Bruiser lifted his chin toward the prisoners and arched an eyebrow. With a slight inclination of his head, Cowboy took a step forward and stood beside Bruiser freeing him to follow the two men into the next room
The scene that greeted him set Bruiser's already jangled nerves on edge. Madison had the boy's chest pressed against one of the walls, holding him there with a fist full of dark hair. One arm was twisted painfully behind his back. Beside him, Raulston was screaming in Pashto. Bruiser knew just enough of the language to know he was questioning the prisoner about Haafiz al-Bashir.
Bruiser gritted his teeth as he stood in the doorway. The boy denied knowledge over and over as the two men interrogated him. Madison snarled, drew the boy's head back and slammed it into the wall. Crimson sprouted on the hard earthen surface as nose and lip split, and he screamed in fear. Behind him, one of the women cried out, begging them to stop hurting her son. In broken English, she assured them that none of them knew where al-Bashir was.
Call him crazy, but all Bruiser could see was Jayden. The two teens were about the same size and weight. Jayden's hair was lighter than this one's, but the unruly style was still remarkably similar. Narrowing his eyes, Bruiser took a step forward. "Madison," he warned.
Whirling around but not letting the kid go, Madison snarled at Bruiser. "Shut your yap. You're here for muscle, not to think. Go watch the others." He turned back, flipped the boy around and back-handed him roughly, causing him to scream out in pain as blood splattered on his tunic.
"Jesus, no wonder these people hate Americans," Bruiser muttered.
Once again Raulston screamed at the kid, demanding to know where al-Bashir was hiding. Again, the teenager denied any knowledge.
Blood now flowed freely from the captive's nose and mouth, splattering the hard-packed dirt floor. Madison grabbed him by the throat and slammed him into the wall with enough force to make dust pepper down. The blow dazed the kid and his eyes glazed over before sliding to the ground as Madison let him go.
A string of obscenities flew from Madison as he pulled his booted foot back and slammed it into the boy's stomach with a sickening thump. Beside him, Raulston was yelling at him to wake up as he also kicked the boy. That was the moment when Bruiser had seen enough. Maybe he wasn't "in the know," but he understood the line between interrogation and torture. Two full grown men beating and kicking a fifteen-year-old kid was more than he could stomach. With a snarl, he charged Raulston and shoved him into the opposite wall. Slinging his assault rifle around to his back, he grabbed Madison around the throat and pulled him back. "Enough!" he snarled into the man's ear.
"Say goodbye to your career, you muscle-bound prick. I'm in charge here. What I say goes."
"Yeah, maybe so but I'm not about to stand by and watch you beat up a little kid," Bruiser ground out.
"He's not a kid. He's a terrorist. He's harboring other terrorists. Do you think he cares what you think? No, he'll cut your throat and go back to making plans against the United States. It's them or us, Titus. You picked the wrong side, and you can kiss your freedom goodbye. I'll see you in Guantanamo for treason." Madison growled at Bruiser as enraged foam flew from his lips.
Raulston recovered his equilibrium and attacked Bruiser, slamming his shoulder into the SEAL's side. The hit only rocked him slightly. Bruiser grunted and tightened his grip on Madison's neck with the intent to choke him out. "If I'm going down, I may as well take you with me," he snarled.
The click of a handgun's safety disengaging filled the room. The barrel of Raulston's Glock pressed against Bruiser's temple. "Let. Him. Go." Raulston's steely gaze never left Bruiser's face. He squeezed the grip tightly. "Now."
"What the hell?" Cowboy rushed in the room. He lifted his assault rifle and trained it on Raulston. "Lower your weapon, Raulston."
"Not until he lets my partner go."
The scene was intense for a few more moments as Madison gasped and slapped at Bruiser's forearm around his neck. With a grimace, Bruiser let him go with a shove against the wall and took a step back. Madison fell to the ground and wheezed. Pointing his finger at Bruiser, he screamed, "You're dead. I'll kill you with my bare hands."
Bruiser snorted. "Bring it, asshole."
Cowboy lowered his rifle but kept his finger beside the trigger. He looked around the room until his eyes fell on the crumpled form of the unconscious boy against the wall with blood flowing from numerous wounds. "What the hell?"
"These two thought it would be fun to beat up a kid. Big man, Madison. What do you do for funsies? Cut the paws off of kittens?" Bruiser snapped.
Madison climbed to his feet and took a step toward Bruiser. "I'll show you funsies, you steroid freak show."
"Whoa, whoa." Cowboy took a step between them and put his hands flush against each chest. "Cool it, both of you. This pissing contest can wait until we..."
"Incoming!" screeched Railroad a split second before an explosion rocked the house. At once, all four of the men fell to the floor. Portions of the outer wall collapsed under some incendiary device sending up plumes of dust and debris. The staccato of rifle fire sounded beyond the breach. In his ear, Railroad hissed, "Four targets, two on each entrance." More fire sounded followed by a curse. "Watch your six," he yelled.
Bruiser glanced around the room, coughing on the dust filling the air. The boy still hadn't moved. Crawling over, he checked the boy's neck, pressing for a pulse.
Nothing.
Turning him over, he cursed when he saw wide dark eyes staring blankly upward. Blood pooled and congealed under his cooling body. Bruiser did a quick search to find it was emerging from a hole in his neck. From the looks of it, a piece of flying shrapnel tore open the boy's jugular. He felt sick. Fifteen years old was much too young to die.
A string of obscenities filled the air. Turning away, Bruiser started toward the door and where he had last seen Cowboy. A body lay on the floor, and for a moment he thought it was his friend. Turning him over on his back, Bruiser looked into the cold dead eyes of Raulston. One of the rounds flying into the house had pegged him right above his left eye. More swearing. This situation had gone beyond being simply out of control. It was now officially FUBARed.
Speaking into his com link, Bruiser whispered, "Sound off."
One by one, Cowboy, Finch, Toad and Railroad assured their leader they were fine. Hick, however, did not.
"Hick? Anyone have eyes on Hick?"
"He was in the outer room," Cowboy said between bouts of coughing and gesturing toward the door. Lurching through, he lifted his rifle and called out. "Hick?
"How many tangos, Railroad?" Bruiser heard Finch ask.
"Five," came the stilted reply.
Except for the whimpers of the women and children, there was no sound coming from the room. Bruiser pushed past Cowboy and saw Hick laying prone on the floor, face first, a wicked knife sticking out of his back just above his shoulder. Above him, a man dressed in a tunic with a scarf around his face snatched Hick's rifle from his hand. Before he could lift it, Bruiser double tapped him between the eyes. "One," he called out to let the rest of the team know one of the intruders was no longer a threat.
One of the women screamed as she pulled the children behind her in an attempt to shelter them from the gunfire still flying. "Get down," Bruiser hissed as he made a signal for them to lower as close to the floor as they could get. They quickly obeyed.
The report of Railroad's sniper rifle echoed in the room followed by a grunt in the yard. "Two," the sniper hissed into the headset.
Two down, three to go.
There was another burst of fire that was answered in kind. The exchange continued for several seconds before silencing. "Lost the tango," Railroad muttered into the mic.
Movement to Bruiser's left caught his attention. Raising his assault weapon, he crouched and trained the muzzle on the shadow. Softly he whistled, causing the armed assailant to whirl quickly with his gun pointing toward the sound. Bruiser double tapped him between the eyes. "Three," he hissed into the mic.
Cowboy's voice filled the earpiece. "Hick's down. Finch, Toad, are you okay?"
"Affirmative," they each said. Bruiser closed his eyes in relief. At least they were both all right.
More gunfire erupted. "Four," Toad said followed by Railroad's last confirmation. "Five."
Silence filled the compound as they waited.
"Clear," Railroad said. "They made enough noise, if there's anymore in the neighborhood, we're going to get slammed."
"Roger. Stay in the nest and watch our six," Bruiser barked out.
"Roger."
Slinging his rifle to his back, Bruiser dropped to his knee, checked Hick, and blew out a breath. There was a strong pulse. Looking at the knife, he decided to leave it in as he had no idea if moving it could cause more damage or not. At least the angle was all wrong to have hit his heart, but it could have nicked a lung. Better to be safe than sorry. Cowboy dropped the first-aid kit to the ground beside him and pulled out a roll of gauze. Quickly they secured the knife so it wouldn't move. There was also a nasty gash across his temple. They dressed it as well.
"Chopper is on the way," Finch said. "We got eight minutes to get to the extraction point."
Standing, Bruiser carefully picked up Hick and pulled him over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. "We are leaving this Charlie Foxtrot, SEALs."
Madison blocked the door. "What about the witnesses? We have a mission to complete."
Cowboy shoved the man out of the way. "We were to apprehend Haafiz al-Bashir. He's not here. This mission is over."
"We're not leaving," Madison pulled his gun and pointed it at Bruiser."We go when I say we go."
Toad materialized from the inner room with Raulston on his shoulder. In one quick motion, he dropped the body, grabbed the gun in Madison's hand and shoved it upwards. The sound of the gun firing was loud in the small room. Toad twisted Madison's hand, putting pressure on the nerve in his wrist, forcing him to drop the gun. With a shove that sent Madison stumbling across the room, Toad picked up the pistol, popped the magazine and unchambered the round. "Yeah, we are. You stay if you want to, but we are out of here. Enjoy your walk back to base," he intoned and handed the unloaded piece to Cowboy before dropping the magazine into his own pocket. Picking up Madison's partner, he trailed Bruiser out the door.
Following Bruiser's call to leave, the team along with a sullen Madison evacuated to the extraction point. Within ten minutes they were once again in the air. A corpsman was busy attending to Hick's wound. Beside him, Raulston lay with a sheet pulled over his face. From across the chopper, Madison stared daggers at Bruiser as he leaned his head back against the wall. Bruiser snorted. He didn't care what the jerk thought. Oh, he knew there was going to be hell to pay soon. He just hoped he didn't lose his career over this. Hell, he hoped his team didn't lose their careers over this. He shook his head. He'd take the blame for this. He wouldn't let them take the fall for his actions. The next few days weren't going to be easy, but he was used to that. After all, the SEAL motto was, "The only easy day was yesterday." He snorted. Wasn't that the ever-lovin' truth?