After he signed and Khallida signed he handed the iPad to the ISIS terrorists, saying, “Your Imam’s signature is already on the document — right there,” he pointed to an illegible scrawl. “We have signed for the Republic of Iran and Al Qaeda. It but remains for your signature to guarantee your gains in this jihad!”
One by one the ISIS terrorists signed the iPad. When the last had done so he handed the tablet back to Nikahd.
The colonel smiled, and told them, “Congratulations, you are now part of a larger, greater Caliphate — boom!”
Before Nikahd could finish a loud concussion sounded in the room. The plate glass window shattered. The leader of the ISIS terrorists rocked back in his chair, a small hole in his forehead. One of the terrorist’s behind him took the spent bullet in the throat; it nearly decapitated him. Chunks of grey matter and vaporized blood sprayed the, blinding the terrorists, freezing them with terror.
Boom, boom, boom, boom!
Screams and shouts filled the room as men ducked or ran for cover. There was a pause, and Nikahd shouted, “Sniper! He’s reloading!”
The terrorists ran for the door.
Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom!
Bodies crumpled to the floor in plain view of the large dining room window. Khallida and Nikahd escaped — that was all. For a moment all was silent but for the groans of the dead and dying.
From the tangle of bodies one terrorist raised himself painfully on his elbows, whining for aid. The owner of the house appeared at the doorway — shocked, pleading to the heavens — he reached for the stricken man. Boom! One last shot split the air. The terrorist’s head exploded, drenching the owner in blood. He fled from the room.
The next morning the bodies of the slain had been removed and buried. The window was boarded up. The only other indication that something had gone wrong was the presence of the owner’s head nailed over his front door.
CHAPTER 9: Extraction
Jeremiah Slade put his final shot right through the terrorist’s right eye. The Barret “Light Fifty” sent its .50 caliber shell unerringly over the half mile through the now smashed windows, through the eyeball, into the brain and out the back, making a much larger hole on exit than on entry.
To his grim satisfaction the blood and brains of the terrorist sprayed the owner of the house.
“Nice shot!” Killer Kincaid chuckled, looking through his standard Delta Force issue binoculars. “I think you’re getting to like this way too much; you’re shooting for dramatic effect!”
The thought had already occurred to Slade. It was one thing to get the job done, even to the point of adding a bit of extra terror to the lives of the enemy. It was quite another to enjoy it. He’d enjoyed every minute of that shooting gallery; everything except letting Khallida and Nikahd walk out alive. The Company put a “no-kill” tag on them, but Slade didn’t have a need to know, so they didn’t explain why.
Killer, told his men, “Alpha team you are cleared in, Bravo, you have their back. We have high cover!”
While Alpha team infiltrated the building to retrieve the iPads and any other intelligence they could dig up in a hurry, the other team took up a flanking position to cover the house.
Killer cursed.
“Problem’s?” Slade asked, scanning the area through his powerful scope. “I don’t see squat!”
“That’s just it,” Killer replied. “As soon as these jack rabbits hear a rifle shot that’s not theirs the find the nearest burkha and hide underneath it! The bastards are brave enough when it comes to beheading a man with his hands tied behind his back!”
Slade grunted, and then asked, “I’m the one whose supposed to be keeping secrets — that’s the CIA’s job — so you going to let me in on why I didn’t get to pop the Colonel or Khallida? Damn it, we’ve been after that bastard since Nine-Eleven!”
“Damned if I know. Maybe we’ll get debriefed on it in Kuwait City.”
“Kuwait!” Slade growled. “That’s not my favorite place, or don’t you remember?”
“I’m sure they’ve forgotten it all by now Slade,” Killer laughed. “Besides, you were only scheduled to be beheaded. I got you out of there didn’t I?”
“Being led to execution square counts as being “scheduled?”” Slade retorted.
“Come on, show some backbone,” the Delta Force Captain laughed. “Look at the bright side. In Kuwait you can legally buy western slave girls for your harem!”
There was sporadic fire from down below. Slade saw movement off the corner of the building. He heard over the radio. “We’ve got runners heading west bound!”
Two men appeared, sprinting across the dirt street toward a house, firing blindly behind them. The door of the house opened for them.
Boom! Boom!
The men flung their AK-47’s in the air, falling like disjointed marionettes into the dust.
“Bravo team shows all Tangos down!”
“Alpha team reporting, sir, we’ve cleared out the guards but we’ve found a package in one of their trucks. The package speaks French sir!”
Killer chuckled, “Well I’ll be damned, just as Intel thought! The Al Qaeda people were bringing the ISIS folks a present!”
“Damn!” Slade cursed out of the blue.
“What is it?”
“Look at the Tangos I just took out,” he told Killer, who whipped up his binoculars. “They’re using like an eight year old kid to retrieve the AK’s and ammo from the dead Tangos.”
“Where’s Child Protective Services when you need them,” Killer growled. “Your call boss.”
Slade let the kid go, but not before splashing both of the terrorist’s heads like melons all over the child. “Hopefully that’ll teach him not to get killed!”
Killer’s voice tightened up, “We have company. A five man patrol coming south along the street on the left flank. Idiots, they’re walking right into the sun!”
“Alpha team be advised we have Tangos — about one hundred yards. Coming to you Bravo team! Alpha team bring that package as fast as you can!”
“Bravo team has the Tangos. You want us to take them out?”
“Hold on tight,” Killer ordered. He glanced through his binoculars, and said, “You want them Slade?”
“Got ‘em,” he whispered, already set in his breathing pattern.
Killer waited and waited until finally he asked, “You going to fire or what?”
Boom!
The five man patrol, advancing furtively, nervously toward the house froze as one of the men turned a sudden somersault in the air. It looked like a circus act but for the splash of vaporized blood as the fifty caliber shell tore through his upper chest.
The bullet wasn’t done though.
The piece of metal splashed out from the terrorist’s torso and hit the man next to him in the stomach. There was very little resistance to the bullet in the abdomen. The misshapen projectile tumbled through the guts, tearing the stomach, the intestines and the viscera of the second terrorist, sending him to the ground clutching his belly.
Still the bullet wasn’t done.
With the impetus of a handgun it burst through the kidney and burrowed into the third terrorist’s groin. That unlucky terrorist faced a long, ugly death as the bullet completely disintegrated in his bowels after blowing off his privates.
“They shouldn’t be walking so close together!” Slade chastised them. Boom! Boom! The other two terrorist’s fell before they could find cover. Slade said dryly, “No point in letting them teach their friends what they learned.”
Kincaid chuckled in a gallows humor manner, and said, “You were waiting for them to line up; a triple! Uncle Sam’s going to be very happy you’re saving the taxpayer money!”
“Alpha has the groceries and the package; we’re bugging out!”