Target Prep

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Chapter One

Dax’s Mission

The night wasn’t perfect, but it was good enough for what Dax and his men needed to accomplish. The wind whipped up and through the mountain pass providing almost as much perception of the terrain as the sliver of moon sitting just above the horizon. From a special operations standpoint, this was standard operating procedure; if the enemy couldn’t see you, your success rate went up. Night vision was the major advantage the Rangers had over the insurgents. The fact that the insurgents had spent their entire lives in the crags and crevices of this Mars on earth negated much of the advantage.

It had been six hours since they began the trek over, across and through the mountain range that overlooked warlords, terrorists and poppy farmers. The people that lived the hard life of the Afghan mountains could be included in those descriptions, but they weren’t mutually exclusive. Each and every one of them was intermingled in all three cultures. Dax and his men were here to try to extract one of them so his influence on all the others would be diminished. Omar F’Aqan was the number three in the terrorist organization Allah Quuah. He had major connections to the tribal warlords. His brother was a leader of a considerable sized militia, last estimated at over four thousand soldiers, which derived most of their funding through opium sales. The combination of militia protection and poppy money allowed Omar to be fairly transient in the region, in turn allowing him to courier messages, orders, plans and such from Allah Quuah’s leader to other couriers, who in turn sent the message to another courier, who in turn sent it to a cell so a plan could be executed to bring down the Infidels. Most of these messages were either mundane or menial. Some tested loyalty and efficiency. Some were dummy messages used to confuse interceptors or make a certain cell feel it was a vital part of Allah’s plan. But some of these messages were indeed parts of a master plan of Allah Quuah. And most of them started with Omar F’Aqan. Dax planned on putting a stop to this particular postal system.

The Rangers descended from above the tiny village of two hundred. The intel said F’Aqan was in the village to meet with a cell leader. It had taken F’Aqan over a month to set up the meeting and another two weeks for the cell leader and F’Aqan to meet in the remote village. The cell leader had family in the area and it was within the sphere of influence of F’Aqan’s brother. In the interest of the conspirators it was deemed a safer haven than many other locations. This was more than a courier exchange; it was cultivation. A mere message from man to man was not enough. F’Aqan was building plans with the leader, not just delivering them.

Most of the intel for this operation came from local sources. CIA intel helped, but the backbone of the information came from people in the area that needed a little extra money. Some of them probably supported the Americans. Not everyone appreciated the fact that drugs and guns controlled their lives. But then again, some of the intel came from people that just wanted money and it didn’t matter the origin - American seed money or the opium industry. The inability to always decipher between the two made Dax and his comrades uneasy, at best.

Dax put up a fist. Stop. Each Ranger relayed the message and became just another rock formation to the unknowing eye. It was 0230 and as dark as it was going to get. They had about 30 minutes to run the extraction and approximately two hours to get to the LZ before light would begin to splash upon the mountainside. If they didn’t get out before first light, the helicopter ride was going to be rougher than it needed to be.

Dax signaled for the flanking Rangers to make their move. McGuire and Rodriguez would take the 9 o’clock and Jones and Swank would take the three. The eight men set just to the north of the village, two hundred meters up an embankment with a rise of about fifteen meters. It was a little too open, but nothing was perfect. The village set on a trail that ran roughly east to west. It was bottled up on the south side by a vertical cliff of about forty feet. The Rangers aimed to cut off the trail at the three o’clock and nine o’clock, then sweep into the village from the north and squeeze. The question was, how many gunmen were going to know they were there before they could make the capture?

McGuire and Rodriguez moved slowly down the left side of the embankment while Jones and Swank mirrored them on the right. Dax sat tight with Cooper. Michaels and Carter were stationed with M24E1 Enhanced Sniper Rifles ten meters to their six, each perched behind a boulder. Dax and Cooper would give the flanking parties a little under three minutes to position themselves at the trail before beginning the very dangerous move down the embankment.

This wasn’t new to this group of Rangers, but that didn’t put them at ease. Missions like this always had a different set of variables and those unknowns gnawed at each soldier. But now was the time for action directed by training. Gnawing thoughts would have to wait. Dax and Cooper started down the embankment. They descended at about four degrees which was as much flat ground as this region produced. The ease of the descent just meant they were in the clearing for way too long. The snipers used their night vision to scan the area. The flankers had reported no sentries on their approach. It was clear so far.

The lack of sentries made Dax uneasy and his team silently shared the sentiment. It was very rare that insurgents at any level didn’t have at least a cursory guard. He might be twelve years old, but he was almost always present. But not now. Was this an ambush? If it was Michaels and Carter would be their guardian angels, picking off gunmen from a range of 200 to 250 meters. The distance wasn’t great, but the wind would play a factor in the shots.

Clouds had overtaken the moon and there was very little light now. Dax and Cooper were fifty meters from the trail that bordered the village on the north when Dax saw movement through his night vision goggles. He squatted down and Copper followed suit. A male, late teens early twenties, had come out of the larger of the dwellings that sat just on the other side of the trail. An old AK-47 was slung off his right shoulder as he sauntered along the edge of the trail towards the west end of the village. He was either on a regular patrol check or just had to get out for a smoke and some fresh air to stay awake. Either way, lighting up a cigarette was going to inhibit his natural night vision.

The sentry stood twenty-five meters from Jones and Swank, each of whom had taken up a position on opposite sides of the trail as it cut through the mountains and began its descent into a small valley. Jones was behind an outcropping on the village side of the trail, while Swank mirrored him and took position behind an old ramshackle building that had long ago been used for who knows what. It was the only structure on the embankment side of the trail.

As the sentry slowly inhaled and exhaled, he scanned the surrounding area with partial interest. He turned down an alleyway between two houses on the west edge of the village and continued his stroll. When he cleared their view, Dax signaled to start moving; this would probably be their best time in the next several minutes to make ground and identify the location of F’Aqan. Dax felt fairly certain that F’Aqan was in the house that the sentry exited. Or at worst, someone there would know where to find F’Aqan.

As Dax and Cooper reached the dusty trail, they increasingly exchanged stealth for speed. The point of no return was upon them and they needed to strike. They reached the wall of the house from which the sentry had emerged and flattened their backs, Dax towards the east side of the house which held the door and Cooper just to his left. At this moment McGuire left his nine o’clock position on the east end of the trail as Jones did the same at the west end. Their partners would cover them and then move in behind them when they were certain the first man was not being stalked.

With about forty dwellings, the village sat in a rough square, with walkways and alleyways between the rows of houses. Jones was able to go a house deep into the village so he could come up to the door on the opposite side of Dax. McGuire didn’t have that luxury as the houses were much too close together and cluttered on the east end of the village. The flankers were scanning the area, waiting for someone to pop out behind one of the four rangers near the houses. They had better angles along the edge of the village than did the snipers, but the snipers were able to see better down into the heart of the village.

Dax picked up McGuire in his line of sight as McGuire eased around the dwelling to his east. McGuire would give the signal to Dax when he could see Jones come along the south side of the house from the interior of the village. Less than fifteen seconds if all went according to plan.

Muffled voices carried across the wind from further inside the village. The Rangers froze in place, with Jones being the most exposed to the conversation. As the voices grew louder, Carter’s low voice came across the comm unit.

Three tangos coming from your twelve.

Dax double clicked in reply. All the Rangers heard the message and understood the rules of engagement. Dax enters the house first. Fire only to support a move by the lead Ranger or to eliminate a threat. Otherwise, stay quiet and don’t wake up any extra locals. Jones slowly moved back the way he had come, checking the alleyway behind him for an ambush.

Carter’s voice again, Tangos twenty meters to your twelve. Probably approaching your door.

Dax was hoping that all three would go inside the house, but was prepared to fire if they came around the corner. As they came closer, he could make out more of the conversation. Three tours over six years in the region had helped him pick up the language enough to make out some of the conversation. It sounded like they were making plans to leave early in the morning, to get Omar back to his brother. Yup, this was the place. Now, if he could just get them to all go in the house.

The door to the house creaked open and he could hear someone crossing the threshold. Just then McGuire signaled to him that two of the men were still coming – only one had gone in the door.

Angel fire, Dax whispered into his mike. Two seconds later the men wandered out between the houses and realized they weren’t alone. And then they realized no more. Michaels and Carter had taken them out from 240 meters. Dax rotated to face the door as Cooper and McGuire drug the bodies to their respective sides of the alleyway.

Cooper and McGuire pulled out their knives to make sure the targets didn’t miraculously survive the sniper shots and then took up position behind Dax and readied themselves to enter the doorway. Jones rounded the southeast corner of the house with his back to the other Rangers, keeping cover on the interior of the village.

Take the door, Dax’s voice one more time.

Cooper stepped forward while Dax and McGuire trained their M4 assault rifles on the doorway. Cooper lightly tried the rudimentary door knob but it didn’t budge. Dax gave the signal and Cooper kicked in the door while Dax moved forward and swept his weapon along the arc of the opening. As the door opened to ninety degrees from its hinge, a shadow appeared cast by a set of candles. He tried to reach for a weapon leaning up against the wall, but Dax put him down with a double tap to the chest. As the door continued to open, two more men came from a back room on the left. They were confused, but gaining understanding very quickly. The first man was unarmed, but the second man pulled a Soviet made pistol up in his right hand and got off a shot into the door. Dax put another round into the pistol man and Cooper set his sights on the first man as he scurried left to right across the room.

Don’t do it, he said as the man lunged to the back of the room, obviously looking for a weapon. It was clear by the look on the man’s bearded face that he understood what Cooper had said, and it was apparent by his actions he wasn’t going down without a fight. As he went for the same gun the previous man had tried for, Cooper put him down.

Just then a commotion came from the same back room. Dax planted himself against the wall, and Cooper moved around him to the left side of the room in order to enter the back room. Automatic fire came through the doorway which caught Cooper in the left shoulder and spun him around and to the floor. The barrel of an AK-47 poked through the doorway and trained itself on McGuire who had come in behind Cooper. Dax pivoted on his right foot and pulled his trigger. The insurgent crumpled to the ground with a thud.

At just that moment Jones’ voice came over the comm. I’ve got a runner out here.

Dax looked up to see a window broken out. There were no other doors in this room so the remaining insurgent had taken the only exit available to him. Dax approached the window with caution and peered out, just able to make out Jones crouched over a slumping figure on the ground. Jones was putting a formerly morphine-filled syringe back in his thigh pocket after tackling and neutralizing the man. If this was F’Aqan they were in good shape. If not, the mission would most likely be a bust.

As Dax re-entered the small front room, McGuire came through the doorway on the right side of the front room. Kitchen is clear. No back door.

Dax knelt over Cooper who had risen to one knee, but was obviously in a great deal of pain. Taking Cooper’s blowout kit, Dax retrieved a compression bandage and began to cover the gaping wound ripped open by the AK-47 round.

Angel, we have secured the target house. Three tangos down. Cooper’s hit, but is mobile. Jones has baggage, Dax said into his comm, referring to the drugged insurgent.

Roger that, Snake. You have activity on the south side of the village and we may have a truck about a click to the southeast headed this way, Carter reported.

Dax exited the doorway as McGuire helped Cooper up. They stepped over the threshold and headed south and then west around towards the exit window. Jones had his flashlight out and was checking the man’s face. This looks like him.

That’s him. Get him up and let’s get out of here.

Jones hoisted the unconscious Omar F’Aqan on his shoulder like a fireman and headed back the way Dax had come. Dax could hear the commotion growing within the village and knew things were going to get hot any second. Cooper, left shoulder slumped, cradled his weapon in his right hand and shuffled along with Jones. Dax and McGuire backpedaled in their wake away from the village and across the dusty road.

Angel, Snake, call Chariot and give them an ETA of 0400 at the LZ.

Roger, Snake, 0400 Chariot at LZ.

Flankers, fall back to Angel, Dax called over the comm. Just as he said it, he could see headlights washing up the mountainside above the embankment.

Snake, Angel, I have a truck at 500 meters making slow time up the trail to the east, southeast.

Don’t fire until you’re sure it’s armed. No need for extra bodies.

The four Rangers were scurrying up the embankment as quickly as they could move with one wounded soldier and one prisoner. At that moment gun fire erupted from the alleyway in front of the house they had just hit. Dax and McGuire took a knee and returned fire while Jones continued to carry the dead weight body up the hill and Cooper did his best to make it on his own. A second later cross fire came from the right and left towards the village as each flanker provided suppressing fire for the four Rangers out in the open.

The cluster of gun fire died off from near the target house, but sporadic pops from along the edge of the village began to increase in frequency as villagers began to make their way to the fight. At the top of the embankment, Michaels and Carter were using night vision to eliminate targets one by one. But as one gun fell silent another would join the fray.

Shit! McGuire took a bullet in the right hamstring. The four Rangers on the embankment were now fifty meters from the snipers and twenty meters give or take from the two flankers who had mirrored their ascent while providing cover fire.

Just then a strafing of machine gun fire erupted on the ground ten meters down the embankment. The truck had driven up over the ridge and revealed itself as an old model pickup truck with a Soviet helicopter machine gun mount in its bed. This slanted the playing field in a hurry. Fortunately for the Rangers, the driver had hit the brakes a bit too hard and it had thrown the aim of the gunner downward.

The next round of fire flew harmlessly up the mountain as the gunner fell backward and pulled the handle of the machine gun mount with him. A moment later the truck started to roll forward on idle power. Michaels and Carter had coordinated targets the moment they first spotted the truck down the trail. Carter had the gunner and Michaels took the driver. The Angels of Death had struck again. Dax was going to get them a medal if they could all get off this embankment and back through the mountain pass.

Getting back to the LZ was proving to be more difficult with each passing second. Every time the soldiers took down a gun, another one or two popped up. What the insurgents lacked in perimeter security they made up for in orneriness.

The six rangers and one prisoner had worked their way back off the embankment to rendezvous with the snipers. But it was far from over. They now faced the task of getting two wounded soldiers and one drugged prisoner over a click of mountain terrain, to a landing zone that could prove to be hotter than a firecracker stand with an open flame.

As was Standard Operating Procedure, the eight-man escort portion of the squad had been stationed about halfway between the village and the landing zone in an effort to thwart any ambushes on their return trip. Often, insurgents would offer only cursory resistance at the scene when they discovered an operation, but would then call in the ranks to cut off any escape route.

As Dax’s unit slipped off the embankment and into the trail that had brought them through the mountains they began to receive the natural cover of the mountainside. It would be rough going, but they weren’t out in the open anymore. Dax led the way with Swank right behind him. Cooper, dragging his shoulder, aided McGuire as he hobbled along, a tourniquet reducing the amount of blood darkening his pant leg. Jones was right behind them carrying F’Aqan over his shoulder. It was going to be a long, long trip for those three, Dax thought. Covering the rear were Michaels and Carter.

The unit had covered about four hundred meters through rocky trail when bullets started pinging above their heads. The shots were coming from behind them, but elevated. The insurgents hadn’t wasted time with the trail. They had climbed the cliffs to keep cover and take a tactical advantage. About ten seconds after the initial shots were fired, an explosion lit up the mountainside behind the unit.

Eagle has our cover, pick up the pace!! implored Dax. The escort group had been watching for just such an ambush and had two of their M-4 carbine’s fitted with M-203 40mm grenade launchers. Another explosion rocked the other side of the rock formation where gun fire had erupted just seconds earlier.

It’s going to stay hot all the way to the LZ, Captain, said Cooper from behind Dax.

As the unit continued to ramble through the crevices, outcroppings and what passed for trails, occasional gunfire would erupt; sometimes close, sometimes well into the ridges. As soon as it did, Eagle unit would return fire with an assortment of situation-appropriate weapons. Rangers were masters of many trades.

Dax’s unit now numbered twelve as they passed the Eagle unit’s positions and acquired the escorts two by two. They were about two hundred yards from the landing zone. The wind was strong, but within operating limits of the chopper.

Dax clicked his comm, Chariot, this is Snake, we’re two minutes out from the LZ with sporadic engagements. We have all personnel, including two wounded, plus one incapacitated hostile.

Copy that, Snake. We’ll be there. Drop the sticks.

The landing zone was through a tight ravine of about fifty yards and then out into a clearing large enough for the chopper to land. The last bit of ravine would be a shooting gallery if the rest of Eagle unit had been compromised.

Snake, this is Eagle 2, dropping sticks.

Just then, through the crevice, Dax could see infrared chemical lights coming to life through his night vision. The second half of Eagle unit had set up perimeter around the landing zone and had begun to align the sticks that would guide Chariot. If the insurgents had night vision, this would alert the natives. Most likely, they were safe. But even if by some stroke of misfortune one or two of the insurgents had acquired NV goggles from a dead GI, igniting the sticks was better than flying your helicopter into a mountainside.

As Dax and Swank reached the mouth of the ravine they treated it as a doorway, securing each side and allowing the rest of the party to pass through. Just as the wounded and Jones with his baggage began to exit the ravine, the familiar thwoop thwoop thwoop, of the MH-47G Chinook blades echoed through the valley. The chopper was flying dark, but Dax could start to make out the silhouette as it began its descent past the mountain range. Chariot was approaching from the east into a flat area no more than thirty-five meters wide and forty meters deep. It was a tight fit, but these guys were good. The LZ was surrounded by mountains on three sides and open to the east. There were plenty of places for bad guys to hide and one really good place for them to come in force. Eagle unit had taken position around the ridges and Snake unit was going to cover the opening on the east side as they made their way out of the ravine.

As the chopper was thirty feet off the ground, gunfire erupted at Dax’s seven o’clock. At least three milititants had made it up another pass and were attacking from the southwest. The Ranger from Eagle unit on the west ridge opened fire, as did Dax. One gunman dropped and the other two took to hiding, getting off pot shots when they could.

Jones with F’Aqan, McGuire and Cooper had made it to the rear ramp of the chopper. The other Rangers were now making their way in, crouched and working their way back to the chopper, scanning the ridges and rocks on all sides. Dax and Swank were furthest from the chopper when concussion threw Dax onto his back. A mortar had hit close. Dax knew it, but had to work furiously to get his body to respond to commands. Gotta get up. Gotta get up. Move.

He felt pressure on his shoulders and scratching on his back. His feet started to backpedal and with the help of two Eagles he continued to get upright and back to the chopper.

We got cover, get in came the muffled directions of one of the Eagles. Dax’s ears weren’t quite registering.

Cooper reached out his good arm and helped Dax up the ramp and into the chopper. As the chopper lifted off, the percussion of the machine gun mount hummed. Two trucks had appeared outside the landing zone on a ridge to the east. Spackles of light reported their bullets, but the chopper mount was able to take out both of them within seconds, shredding the trucks, the guns and the men inside them.

As the chopper buffeted in the wind, Dax felt his head pounding. He was a bit dazed, but had felt this before. He knew he would come out of it in a few minutes. Until then, he would let Swank and Jones do most of the attending to the wounded. If they could stitch up McGuire and Cooper in the next few minutes this mission would be a rousing success. Now all they had to do was ride the chopper home and let the pilot do his best to stay away from the SAMS and RPG’s. As the chopper banked towards their base, he finally let himself relax just a little bit.

Chapter Two

Allison Carmichael

Tom Calahan entered the meeting room with coffee in one hand and a manila folder in the other. Good morning, everyone. Sorry we had to do this before school. I’ll try and make it quick.

After entering the room from the side door, Tom sidled up to the conference table and surveyed his colleagues. The six teachers sitting in the room shared their own morning pleasantries with the principal of Kapaun Mt. Carmel Catholic High School.

The reason for this meeting is to discuss a new student that I’m sure you were emailed about yesterday. Her name is Allison Carmichael. She’s a junior and she’s moving here with her mother from back east – Virginia, I believe.

Virginia the state, or is Virginia the mom? this morning wit came from Ron Latham, sitting just to Tom’s right. Ron filled out his dress shirt with the usual size of a football coach. He was 6’3", 215 lbs and in pretty good shape for 42 years old. The history teacher by day and football coach by, well, all the time, looked as if he could still play ball for a few series. Well liked by teachers and students alike, he enjoyed throwing a little humor into the meetings that were attended by a few teachers who were one step past rapping kids on the knuckles with rulers.

The state, said Tom, appreciating Ron’s good nature. A few of the others around the table were having trouble hiding their displeasure at being brought into a meeting about a student before their day started. Tom decided to try and make eye contact with each of them as he continued. This was important, but the others wouldn’t quite understand why. Nor were they allowed to.

Allison has some academic issues that need our attention. She has an Individual Education Plan from her old school that we will observe here until the time comes in which we have enough experience with her so that we can adjust it to best accommodate her needs at our school. The IEP is due to some learning difficulties that were diagnosed by a doctor when she was in eighth grade and apparently they’ve helped her a great deal. Here’s a copy of her accommodations for each of you. They’re a bit extreme, but she’s succeeded using these. Without getting into too many details, from a reading standpoint, you can give her the usual assignments. But when it comes to writing, math homework, Spanish worksheets, chemistry homework, those types of things, her workload is to be cut in half, give or take. You can look at the details more on the sheet I gave you.

So does she get half the diploma? This came from Paula Riggleman, an English teacher who was to be credited with the language itself, if you listened to her.

Paula, you know how this works. If you want to fight it, take it up with state board of education, replied Tom. It was too early for her crap. Paula didn’t verbally respond, but Tom knew she would be griping about it for the rest of the semester.

Ok, look at the specifics. Make her welcome. Ron, would you make sure Father Martin gets his copy? Mindy, would you give Terrance his copy? Tom asked, making sure that the teachers of religion and chemistry were kept in the loop since they had other obligations this morning.

Thanks and have a good day, Tom chimed as they hurried out the door in advance of the bell.

Probably one of the more interesting reasons for an IEP that I’ve ever seen, said a voice through the side door. It was Rick Sweeney, one of the assistant principals.

Yeah, ya think? I can’t believe they have a Secret Service agent assigned to Lexi. I know it’s just a training gig, but it’s weird. I guess it’s as good a place as any for this girl to start. Pretty easy stuff.

What kind of training is it? asked Rick.

"All I got out of it when the Supe and I met with the Secret Service was that they want this Allison girl to begin working as a covert cover agent. She needs to be able to blend in, act the part,