Jacob privately agreed more passionately than he felt wise to communicate, but he did nod in agreement. “As you say, Amir.”
“Are we prepared to make the public broadcast” Abdallah asked suddenly, his head swinging around.
“Yes, Amir. We still maintain access to the primary Network lines.”
“I will do so soon then,” Abdallah decided, “Before official response can arrive and cut our line to the outside world.”
“That would be.most wise.”
“Major!”
“What is it, Kenny”
The radio operator shrugged as Malcolm looked over his way, “I’ve got a low level interference on all channels, Major. We’re being jammed pretty neatly.”
“Can you break through it”
“Not with this gear, not from here.” The trooper replied, “But from the roof I should be able to get a sat-link running.”
“Do it.” Malcolm said gruffly, “get back to me when it’s done.”
The Trooper nodded, gathering up his gear quickly, and headed for the stairs.
“Abdallah’s got the bases covered,” Anselm said grimly, shaking his head.
“Trooper Tavish will cut through that flop,” Malcolm said gruffly, looking to the schematics of the Tower Facility that were displayed on the wall screen, “He’s one of the best.”
Anselm just nodded in return, neither agreeing nor disputing the claim. Trooper was the lowest rank in the Australian armed forces, but Anselm knew that when it came to the SAS that didn’t have much, if any, impact on either the skill or experience of the man in question. All enlisted members of the Australian Special Air Service Regiment (SASR) started as `Trooper’, no matter their previous rank in whatever unit they served in, so it was entirely likely that Tavish was indeed one of the best.
Anselm, however, had seen Abdallah Amir pull off too many impossibilities to feel overconfident at the moment. Abdallah was, perhaps, not as good as the `best’, but he was smart and he had had time to plan. Maybe they would get a communication link working, maybe they wouldn’t, Anselm couldn’t say, but he wasn’t going to rely on it until it was proven.
“Before we lost the network we saw that they were assembling people in these places here,” He said aloud, highlighting several points on the large top-down image of the facility. “Gwen tells me that these are the common areas for town gatherings and large parties. Sort of large indoor-outdoor parks.”
Malcolm nodded, looking at the individual schematics of each area on a smaller screen. “Looks wide open, not much cover in there.”
“Agreed,” Anselm replied, “I’ve been inside a couple times myself, and in some areas there’s nothing for dozens of meters to cover movement.”
“What’s this” A Trooper asked, pointing to a computer colored green area.
“That’s the fields,” Gwen replied, tapping out a command to bring the area up on the large screen. “They grow food for export there.”
“What kind of plants” Malcolm asked, leaning forward.
“Here Mostly strawberry plants.”
“Hmmm.” The Major hummed uncertainly before crooking a wry grin, “Gotta say, that’ll be a new one on me. What do you think, Mac”
The trooper who had asked about the fields frowned, shaking his head. “Don’t rightly know, Major. We have any live images of them”
The last question was directed to Inspector Dougal, who immediately leaned to her computer, finally coming up with a tourist pamphlet that showed people walking through the fields. “This do”
The trooper nodded absently, rubbing his chin. “Oh, aye, that’ll do.”
After a moment of contemplation, Malcolm prodded him, “So”
“Workable, Major. Workable.” Trooper Mackenzie said, nodding, then he smiled suddenly, “Not perfect though, and I’m gonna get red stains all over me Gillie.”
Major Malcolm chuckled, “Just so you make sure that they’re nothing but berry stains, Mac.”
“Too right, Major.”
“Sniping from a strawberry bush,” Malcolm shook his head, rolling his eyes. “What’s next”
Mac just shrugged, still grinning, “Least I won’t get hungry, Sir.”
“Can it, Mac.”
Anselm shook his head, lifting a hand up, “Look, this is all fun and everything, but we can’t mount an assault on these people, Major.”
The Major raised an eyebrow, smiling slightly, “Oh Weren’t you planning something similar when we walked in”
Anselm flushed, but shook his head, “No actually. I was thinking about finding Abdallah and blowing his head off.”
Malcolm quieted, nodded for a moment, “That’s one possible move. You think they’ll fall apart without the head”
“No, probably not, I’m afraid,” Anselm admitted, “But I didn’t have anything better.”
“Well you do now,” Malcolm told him, “We’ve got a twelve man SAS team, and six of your Interpol Special Tactics men and women as well. With yourself, and the Inspector if she’s willing, that’s twenty trained fighters. Ten times the force you had before we arrived. At least.”
The major’s men chuckled at the wry inflection the SAS man put into his words when he said the words `at least’, leaving no doubt that they felt it was a good deal higher than `ten times’.
Actually, Anselm wasn’t inclined to argue that point. The Special Tactics and Response Team alone multiplied his available forces by several times more than the numbers would indicate, the Australian SAS men would be even better, but there were times when Quantity overruled Quality, and he very much feared that this might be one of them.
“Major, the opposition has at least sixty men, probably a great deal more,” Anselm said, “They are deployed in unknown locations, with unknown armaments.stop me if you think I’m wrong to worry about this.”
“Agent, this is what we do,” Malcolm told the Interpol man, just a little more confident than he actually was.
He was Special Air Service, literally the best of his country’s military, which meant that Ian Malcolm wasn’t an idiot. He saw the odds as clearly as Agent Gunnar did, but he also saw the consequences of not acting. If what the Interpol man was telling him was true, and he had no reason to doubt it as yet, they didn’t have much choice.
Ten thousand plus citizens of his nation were under the thumb of a psychotic.
The lives of twelve of their protectors would be a small price to pay if it even bought those men, women, and children just a little more time for the cavalry to arrive.
The rooftop of the police station was less than three stories off the ground level, but that was around the average that the three SAS soldiers noted in the other buildings around them as they quickly setup a watch that covered the streets around them.
Sergeant Mickey Franks eyed the skyline around them while troopers Teal and Johnson quickly surveyed the roads. The buildings were unusually squat for any modern city, though the architecture was certainly what one might refer to as `modern practical’. It made for good views all around, despite the low level of their vantage point.
The one stark, riveting sight was, of course, the enormous tower that absolutely ruled the vista to the north. It’s checkerboarded mass simply climbed so high into the sky that Franks had to crane his head back to see where the top of it was obscured by a thin mist. He’d been born only a few hundred miles away from the tower facility, and came home every year for his holidays like clockwork, but had never bothered to come see the `wonder of the world’ that was on his doorstep.
It was too bad he hadn’t, he decided then. The tower deserved better than to be viewed as a target, he thought.
“Hey, Sarge”
“What is it, Teal” He turned to see where the Trooper was kneeling by the edge of the building, waving him over.