The Strike-1 team hugged the shadows at the base of the hill and started south. The target was just a little over five miles away. They would have to eliminate two more patrols but that would only take a few minutes at each post.
Within thirty minutes they were lying on the ground surveying the razor wire compound and the two guards sitting in the booth. Number One held up two fingers and then pointed to number four and number six. They knew what they were assigned to do.
They dropped down and started toward the booth, using the razor wire to cover their movements. They crawled forward, watching for any movement inside. Slowly they inched their way closer and closer until they were able to tuck right up under the bottom of the booth. They looked at each other and made a face. What were they doing inside, sleeping?
They made their way around to the side of the booth. Number Four held up three fingers, closing them one at a time. When he made a fist, Number Six yanked open the door and the other team member sprayed the inside of the booth with thirty rounds of sub-velocity machine gun bullets. The men in the shadows could see the action but couldn’t even hear the gun firing.
The two members quickly checked the guards. They were both dead. They pushed the button for the gate and it swung open. The other members rushed through the opening and fired as a guard inside the building spun around startled.
Number One waited until the other two members rejoined the team and then signaled for three men to go up and three to go down the stairs. Leap fogging from man to man, the teams went their separate ways. The upper team found three more guards sleeping and subdued and bound them with plastic wrist straps.
One member took out a syringe and shoved it to the arm of each one of the guards. They would be out for six to eight hours, and even when they woke up, they wouldn’t feel like doing much for a while. The men going down the stairs found only one guard. Like the others, he was sound asleep. It probably saved his life.
They strapped his wrists behind him and placed him in one of the cells. They opened the next cell door and found a man huddled against the wall.
“Are you Raymond Eller?”
“Leave me alone you bastards,” he yelled at them.
“Mr. Eller. Take it easy. We are here to get you out of this place,” Number One said.
“Don’t touch me,” he said, pulling his legs up to his chest.
“Relax. We’re here to stop all of this but we need your help. Mr. Eller?”
He sat rocking back and forth for several seconds and the men just left him alone. His face was dirty, his hair stood out at wild angles and he had a pretty good beard. From the pictures they had been shown it was obvious that he had lost a good deal of weight.
Finally he said, “Are you here to take Devin out?”
“Yes sir, if necessary. You’re our first priority. After that, we intend to shut everything down until it can be sorted out. We need your help to do that. Can you help us?”
“Yeah, I think so. I haven’t had anything to eat for two days. They just quit feeding me all of a sudden,” Eller said.
“Here,” Number Two said, pulling a high energy bar out of one of his zippered pockets. He opened it and handed to Eller. Raymond bit into it and let the flavor roll across his tongue. It was as good as a steak, he thought, as he took another big bite.
“Take your time. We have plenty of time.”
Number Four went to work administering first aid to his hand. He bound the two stubs to the other fingers and re-bandaged them properly. He also gave him an antibiotic shot just in case.
“Here, this will help with the pain,” Number Four said, giving him three pills to take.
“Thank you. They still hurt some but they are a lot better now that you bandaged them properly. The first few days were the hardest.”
He took the pills and swallowed them. Raymond finished the last bite of the power bar and stood up. Two men grabbed him by his arms to steady him.
“Water,” he said.
“Here, drink this, it will give you more energy,” Number Two said.
Raymond took a big swig of the liquid and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.
“Better. Thanks. I feel better. You said you need my help. How many men do you have?”
“Six,” Number One said.
“Six? I hate to tell you this but if you intend to shut down Devin you are going to need a lot more than six men.”
“Sir, I mean no disrespect, but unless they have over a couple of hundred armed men, they don’t stand a chance. We’re Strike-1 and frankly, the best thing they could do is lay down their arms and hand General Devin over.”
Raymond shook his head, “I certainly admire your courage. What do you need me to do?”
“We have a general map of the layout of the main base. I think they call it home plate.”
“They have several facilities, but the main base is where the most of Devin’s goon squad is likely to be found. They have patrols on all the hills and approaches. They are almost impossible to locate.”
He looked and the six men were smiling.
“What? Did I say something funny?” Raymond said, with a puzzled look on his face.
“We have eliminated four of the patrols already. Two guards outside in the booth, two inside and four in here. I don’t think we will have too hard of a time locating them,” Number One said.
“Maybe the six of you are enough,” Eller replied.
“Now, what we want to do is secure the S-4 facility first. Is there a new type of weapon being developed?”
“I can’t say for sure, one hundred percent, but I don’t know why else Devin would go to so much trouble to keep a secret or try to eliminate me?”
“Let’s assume he does. The logical place would be in that facility, right?”
“Yes. Rumor has it that while the place is only supposed to have nine levels, there’s a secret tenth level. That’s where they are building the weapon. At least that’s what the insiders say. A Doctor Gimbel is in charge of the project,” Raymond told them.
Eller was starting to feel better. His adrenalin was kicking in and his hand wasn’t hurting as bad. He was ready to even the score with General Devin.
“Is there another way in besides a frontal assault?”
“No. They will have one or two guards outside, but they are usually half asleep. Once you get in there are two more guards. I think they are behind bulletproof glass. After that, the guards are randomly dispersed,” he told them.
“Number Two. We will have to take the two guards out at long range. Three and Five can handle that. Mr. Eller. How do you access the door?” Miller asked.
“Damn. I had a badge that you swiped but I used it to try to escape. Say, how did you know I was here?”
“We will tell you all about it once we finish this mission and get you safely out of the area.”
“That means we blow the door. Six, you handle that. As soon as the door goes, it will be up to me to take out the two behind the glass,” Miller said.
“How can you do that? It’s bulletproof,” Raymond said.
Miller pulled a soft case from off his back and showed the .50 Caliber Desert Eagle to him.
“Bulletproof or not, this will take it out like a hot knife through butter.”
“I don’t think I could argue with that,” Raymond said, raising his eyebrows.
“How far to S-4? Our estimate is six miles. Is that about right?” Miller asked, closing the gun back in the case.
“It’s about that. We will…” he suddenly stopped in mid-sentence.
“What?”
Everyone tensed for a minute. Fingers slid inside trigger guards and they all looked from one side to the other.
“Sorry. I just thought of something. It may save us some time and make it easier to get inside,” Raymond said, snapping his fingers.