Mission planners had originally suggested two teams of six operators, figuring that the smaller group would have a better chance at remaining undetected. He agreed with that assessment, until he learned that they would be required to accept surrenders when practical. Taking prisoners would eat up his operators quickly, so he had opted for one more team than mission planners had suggested.
As the first wave of defenders trickled through the buildings to take up positions at the fence, he didn't think they would remain hidden for long. Fortunately, most of them had braced their rifles against the raised berm and scanned the darkness beyond the fence. If one of them glanced back at the unusual dark clumps along the bottom of each building, they would have a problem. With over a minute left until TOT, he couldn't risk detection and the possible discharge of an unsuppressed firearm. They would have to start neutralizing the defenders very shortly. He just wanted to wait until most of them had arrived.
Another terrorist jogged into the open and tossed a smoldering cigarette less than a foot away from McDonald's right elbow. The man kept moving toward the fence without looking back at the orange glow that McDonald had crushed with his fist. They now had eight targets in the open, and he didn't think there was any way their luck could persist.
"Take down in three, two, one…mark."
McDonald raised himself to one knee and quickly leaned his rifle around the corner of the building, searching for any stragglers. He heard the suppressed snapping of his troop's HK416 rifles as he sighted in on a pair of men less than fifteen feet away. One of the men spoke into a handheld radio as he walked, oblivious to the fact that his entire squad had just been neutralized. McDonald placed the EOTech holographic reticle in the middle of his face and waited for him to lower the radio. Less than a second later, he fired a single round through the squad leader's nose, rapidly shifting his rifle to acquire the second man's head.
Through the AN/PVS-14 night vision scope mounted in tandem with the EOTech sight, he registered a look of surprise before puncturing another skull with a single .223-caliber bullet. Both men instantly dropped to the ground, noisily spilling their rifles and communications gear. McDonald waited for three seconds before running forward and dragging one of the bodies behind the building. Without speaking a word, another Delta operator took care of the second body and the dropped equipment, handing the radio to McDonald when he rounded the corner. Other operators surged toward the fence, examining the individual heaps for signs of life. They still had over a minute left on the clock, and they didn't need any surprises. He saw one of his men jam a hand against a terrorist's mouth and stab him in the neck with a concealed blade. No surprises.
He issued hand signals changing their posture from defensive to offensive and watched as the troop formed up on the buildings, ready to move deeper into the compound. Right now, they were spread thinly among five structures, covering every approach to their area between the buildings and the rear fence. A few seconds before the artillery rounds hit, they would consolidate into three teams and move forward. Before advancing through the compound, each operator would activate a Pegasus infrared signaling beacon attached to their ballistic helmets. The infrared beacons had been preset to a specific sequenced flash pattern and synchronized to facilitate rapid identification by support gunners in the surrounding hills and inbound helicopter personnel. Machine-gunners would start with targets closest to his men and work their way forward, allowing Delta assault teams to move forward rapidly without fear of absorbing friendly fire.
He heard two snaps from a position near the northwest corner building. Before he could activate his radio, his earpiece came to life.
"Single tango. Male. Started wandering along the fence toward the northwest corner. We snatched his body without anyone noticing. He carried a radio. Possible leadership."
"Copy. TOT in forty-two seconds."
The presence of a radio on the man was bad news. They had neutralized two possible leadership positions assigned to the compound's perimeter defense, which would certainly draw unwanted attention. Forty-two seconds until impact. A lot could go wrong in forty-two seconds.
Tyrell Bishop patted the woman gripping the M2 Browning .50-caliber machine gun's trigger handle on the shoulder. She was sitting down with her legs extended forward, braced against the machine gun's heavy-duty tripod. She looked oddly relaxed in this position, but Bishop could tell by the tension in her shoulder muscles that she was anything but calm.
The two machine gun positions had been placed several yards along the fence, on each side of the main gate, giving the gunners a clear field of fire that extended the entire length of the access road. The .50-caliber bullets, guided by intermittent tracer rounds, would start hitting the federal convoy as soon as it emerged from the forest. He couldn't imagine the vehicles making it halfway to the compound. He considered holding fire until they had closed the distance, ensuring that there would be no way for the agents to withstand the withering heavy machine gun and rifle fire. He glanced at his watch and briefly chuckled. They had another seventeen minutes to get their shit together before the vehicles arrived. He had to hand it to himself. The compound reacted quickly and professionally under his leadership.
He'd received reports from all but one of his regulars. Good ole Buddy Tyler hadn't passed on a readiness report from the rear fence. There was no real rush, since they had fifteen minutes to spare, but it still annoyed him that Tyler couldn't muster a total of ten men, including himself, and move them one hundred yards from the barracks to the rear fence. There was a reason Tyler had been assigned to guard the opposite end of the compound. Despite his loyalty and enthusiasm, the man lacked a sense of urgency. He really shouldn't have been surprised that Buddy would be the last to report, but he had just talked to him less than a minute ago, which made the situation even more unbearable. The guy had been "five seconds" out from the fence. How long could it take to count nine people and report back? He'd sent John Thibodeau from the western perimeter to check on his progress, but now he couldn't raise Thibodeau. He knew what was happening. Buddy and John were arguing, while he sat on his thumb waiting for one of them to send a fucking report. He turned to Paul Thomas, who was squaring away the other machine gun position.
"Paul!" he yelled. "Can you run back and inform Mr. Tyler that I would like to receive a readiness report before the sun comes up!"
"I'm on it," Thomas replied and took off running north through the compound.
Bishop felt bad sending Thomas on a 400-meter round trip just to deliver a message, but it appeared to be the only way to get anyone to report from the back fence. He'd be back in time for the main show. Thomas was a physical machine, who led daily calisthenics and physical conditioning at the compound. From what Bishop could tell, the man never slowed down. He watched the former recon marine run parallel with the western barracks along the edge of the parade field.
A massive explosion rocked the compound, obliterating the southern side of the barracks building. The point detonation of 23.8 pounds of TNT encased in high-fragmentation steel sent debris flying in every direction, along with a shockwave that lifted the loose soil from the ground nearby, instantly obscuring Bishop's view of the barracks and Thomas. The .50-caliber machine gun behind him roared to life, but his gaze was still transfixed on the explosion. The smoke and dust thrown up by the explosion obscured the fact that a total of three Excalibur rounds had simultaneously hit the compound, neutralizing the two rooftop gun positions and the Road Warrior.