Desert Mercenary Page 7

  He nearly laughed. When he thought about it he had enough time in the Legion to collect a half dozen pensions. A shiver rippled over his forearms. The Ahaggars had never meant anything but trouble, and now he was back. He wanted to get out of them as soon as possible.

  Nothing to do but wait for the others to show up. If they didn't make it in time then what? Would he be able to go in with what he had? Not likely but not impossible, if they had a death wish. It was hard as hell to scare men who were ready to die. He knew he had at least one, Dominic... and maybe Sharif Maraud.

  CHAPTER NINE

  They spent the night in the hangar, Carl and Dominic questioning Sharif Mamud about the mountain. It was an hour after dawn when the Land Rovers showed up. The passengers were heavily coated with Saharan dust. They looked more like ghosts than mercenaries.

  Monpelier had them pull the Land Rovers inside the hangar. Carl didn't envy them their journey. It had to have been a ball buster. From the way they moved he knew they had the same opinion.

  The stiff legged arrivals accepted Monpelier's invitation and headed for some water cans to rinse off before getting down to business. Among them was Abdul Khanas. He was one Carl had met before, a Sudanese veteran of Indochina, a good, solid man with strong hands and a quick smile. The only other one he knew was Jacques Foche, a Belgian mercenary who had been with nearly all the world's armies at one time or another. He was without conscience or loyalty to anyone or anything except the job he was on at the time.

  The rest of the team consisted of two Brits, Felix Martine and Kitchner, an American named Alan Graves, and Saul Voorhees from Pretoria.

  It was obvious that some of them had worked together before. Abdul greeted Roman warmly and gave Egon a nod of recognition. Dominic made the rest of the introductions.

  Carl told them to rack out for a while. After that ride they were sure to need it and he didn't want anyone falling asleep when he outlined the job.

  At four in the afternoon the men had been fed and their coffee poured. They found seats on boxes and crates, and were waiting.

  "Some of you know me," Carl began. "We have worked together before. Those of you who have questions about me, go with them to those that have worked with me. I don't have time for individual consultations.

  "Monpelier has told you the purpose of the job: to get in, snatch two people, and get back out. Let's try to do it and return with everyone that we started out with. Tomorrow the Land Rovers will move out again with new crews." There was an audible sigh of relief from those who had just driven over 1,000 miles across the desert. "They'll have radios with them so we'll know when they're on site. They are to find a landing zone for the rest of us to set down on. Those in the Land Rovers will have only one rifle and their pistols for personal protection. If they carried any more with them they'd be too tempting a target for bandits. When they are on site they'll signal and we'll move out. Till then everyone is restricted to the strip and this hangar. No one goes into town. If one word leaks out about the job then the whole thing will be blown and someone's definitely going to die." He waited to give them time to digest what he was saying.

  "Alright, then. A lot of this is going to have to be played by ear. We know where the hostages are being held and we have a guide who knows the terrain and will lead us in. Once on site, anything can happen. At last word there were about forty to fifty armed Tuaregs at the target area. I don't think that should slow us up any. They're tough, brave men, but I think we have experience and training on our side plus the advantage of surprise if we move fast enough. Just remember when we do go in follow orders and we'll have a good chance of pulling it off. There are still some details to be worked out and I'll fill you in on them when the time comes. As of right now, no one backs out. Everyone here is going all the way. Any questions?"

  Egon stood up. "What is our time frame?"

  Carl looked at Dominic, who held up his hand. "We have five days max. Then Sunni Ali is going to start sending little pieces of the girl to her father in law. We want to get to them before that happens."

  "All right," Carl said, "let me run it down. As it stands now we go in from the desert side of the mountain. We hit them before dawn. Grab the boy and girl, and run for it. The Land Rovers will be waiting to rendezvous and pick us up. We'll ride to where the plane can set down, load up, and get out. That's it. Simple and easy if nothing goes down wrong, which will depend a great deal on you people. That's it for now. No more questions till later. I want Dominic, Stachel, Roman, and Sims to come with me to the office."

  The group broke up. The men he called off followed him into the hangar office and sat on the couch and chairs.

  "Okay, you guys are it," Carl told them. "You're going for a little ride. Dominic, you're in charge." He spread out a map of the area and showed Dominic where he wanted him to be. "I need two landing zones, one somewhere around here," he pointed to the western side of Mt. Baguezane, "and the other landing zone here near the road leading from Agadez to the Ahaggars."

  He folded up the map and gave it to Dominic. "I want you to go out and check out the Land Rovers. Talk to the new guys and see if they had any problems with them. Give them the full treatment. Oil change and filters, and don't take any chances with them on the road. We can't afford any breakdowns. If you're wondering why I'm sending you, I think that's obvious. You're rested; those guys out there are beat. I'm keeping Gus with me because he'd attract too much attention out there. He's just too damned noticeable."

  They all had to admit that was true. To Egon, Carl said, "Monpelier told me that you had radio training. Is that right?"

  "Yes, I can handle most kinds of communication equipment," Egon replied.

  "Good. I want a check in every eight hours, beginning at 0800 hours around the clock. Sims, I'm sending you because I want these men in good shape when the rest of us get there. So take care of them. Roman, from what Dominic has told me you're the best shooter, but try to avoid any trouble. If it comes I don't want anyone getting out to tell. If you have to shoot, then kill.

  "Right now I want you men to do like I said, check out the vehicles and draw supplies. Check everything out yourselves, then report back to me. That's it for now. Get on with it."

  When Carl opened the door to let them out, he saw Yousef standing by the Land Rovers talking with the new arrivals. He had not been present at the meeting and that was at Carl's request. Yousef had no idea what the details of the job were and Carl preferred to keep it that way.

  "Yousef! Come here," he ordered.

  The frame in the white suit visibly shrank at the sound of his name. Scuttling over to Carl he tried to affect an open, friendly stance. "Ah yes, effendi, is there something I may do for you?"

  "Yes, keep the hell away from those men. Don't talk to them, don't ask questions, and if you hear anything, forget it. Also, you will not be going anywhere for the next few days. You'll be staying right here with us."

  "But, Effendi, I have much business to attend. Things which require my attention. I cannot remain here for such a time."

  Langer grasped him by the wrist and applied pressure. Yousef felt the bones begin to give way. Through tears welling up in his eyes he croaked out, "But of course, sir. If you think it is best, then I shall certainly do as you request."

  "Order, Yousef, not request." He released the wrist and left Yousef standing alone rubbing his injured limb with tender fingers, his eyes shooting daggers at Langer's back.

  Monpelier had watched the scene and said while lighting a smoke, "You didn't make a friend with that routine."

  "I really don't give a damn, Monpelier. There's something about him that I don't like."

  Monpelier blew a smoke ring. "All I can say is that I've worked with him before and as long as he was well paid, I had any trouble with him."

  "Any trouble you knew about." Carl left him to chew that over.

  For hours Dominic and the others toiled over the Land Rovers. It was near midnight before they turned in. Carl want
ed them to have a good night's sleep before they headed out. The night's sentry duties were broken down among the new arrivals, with Gus taking first turn. Carl chose the last watch so he could see Dominic and the others off.

  Monpelier had taken off with Parrish and the plane, saying he'd be back in a couple of days. He had business in Tripoli to attend to. That was all right. Carl needed a couple of days to get familiar with the new men, to watch them and locate trouble spots before they sprang up. One good thing was that this job was moving so fast there wouldn't be much time for personality conflicts to develop.

  The new men had hit the rack early, trying to catch up on sleep, each taking a sleeping bag and making a place to lie down. Langer wandered around until a little after midnight, then lay down himself in the office. Rank did have its privileges; he took the couch.

  Voorhees, the South African, woke Langer by tapping him lightly on the bottom of his foot. "Time to get up, sir." Langer grunted and rolled out shaking the kinks out of his back. Taking the submachine gun from Voorhees, he let him have the couch.

  Dominic and the others were already up and ready. "All set, Carl. Is there anything else we need to know?"

  Langer yawned widely before answering, "No. Just make sure you check in. Your call sign is Gold and I'm Silver. That ought to keep it simple enough. Remember we have to be on the deck in three days, no more. So don't fart around out there, and good luck."

  Dominic took the lead, Sims drove the trailing vehicle, Egon was in the center with Roman. Their Land Rovers were loaded with extra gas and water cans as well as spare parts for those most likely to break down. Each vehicle had a power winch and cable on its front. These would be needed in the days to come when one would have to pull the other out of ruts and deep sand.

  Langer watched them move out across the runway and out onto the road leading down the mountain to the flat lands. Three days, no more. If anything at all went wrong and slowed them up, there'd be hell to pay. He'd be glad when Monpelier got back. Gus was all right, but he wanted someone a bit more discreet on hand to keep an eye on Yousef. Gus had all the subtlety of an elephant in heat.

  He was waiting by the radio when the first call came in right on time. The transmission was loud and clear. "Silver, this is Gold. How do you read me? Over."

  Langer hit the talk button. "I got you five by five. Everything okay?"

  "Roger that, Silver. Making good time. The road is clear but it's getting hot as hell out here. Will check in again on schedule. Out."

  Langer felt relief. It was good to get the first call, but he knew that from now until they rendezvoused he would wait impatiently for each check in and worry like hell when they were a minute late.

  During the next two days Yousef made it a point to keep out of his way. He found odd jobs to do and made no further requests of Langer for anything, knowing they would be refused. He was not going to be permitted to leave and that was that.

  Langer talked with the rest of the team and, satisfied that each knew his job, left them pretty much to their own devices, cards, and talk of women. But no booze. From now until the job was over they would have a dry camp.

  It quickly became a ritual for the men to hang around at check in time. So far they'd had no problems to slow them down. The weather had been good and the vehicles performed perfectly. They had turned off the road on the Algerian side of the border to avoid the border checkpoint at Guezzam where Sunni Ali was certain to have eyes. They headed cross country to pass into Niger, then turned back to the south to enter the Tenere depression. They were on time.

  Carl was relieved when Monpelier returned with the plane. The only thing he'd been able to do in the last two days was have the men go over the gear, and you could only clean a weapon so many times. The reports from Dominic were the only real entertainment he had.

  When Monpelier came back Carl collared him.

  "It looks like a go. Dominic will find a place to set down and we'll go in tomorrow."

  Monpelier wiped his face with the back of his sleeve. The day was warming up even here, 5,000 feet above sea level. "Very good. How have the men been behaving?"

  "No problems, but I wouldn't want to keep them locked up here much longer. Did you find out anything else?"

  "Yes, but I don't think it's going to please you. Understand that it is just a rumor, but Sunni Alli is supposed to have some kind of motor transport with him. Just what it is I don't know, and I also don't know where it's kept. So once you get the hostages out, don't waste any time. Move out fast."

  "You can bank on it," Carl answered sourly. "I'll tell the men that we go in tomorrow morning after we hear from Dominic."

  CHAPTER TEN

  The salt flat shimmered. Heat waves rose in undulating crests, creating updrafts on which vultures rode with wide spread wings. Dominic looked to the skies, checking the time. It should be any minute. To the south, dust devils whirled and rose, dancing across the furnace of heaven. Out on the flat there was even less life. Scorpions and snakes tended to avoid it. Few plants were hardy enough to survive. It was a place as dead as could be found anywhere on the planet.

  At the north end the other two heavy duty Land Rovers waited. Only Dominic stood at the southern end of the flat. He had driven over the landing site, making certain there was no unseen boulder that would burst a tire, no hidden ditch that could cause the plane to crash. He needn't have bothered. The flat was nearly as smooth as tarmac and almost as hard. The team of Land Rovers had spread out to provide security for the landing site. It wasn't likely anyone would be watching them but then again, who could tell. In clear, dry air, visibility was nearly unlimited. A man twenty miles away with sharp eyes could have focused on them.

  The trip had been long, hot, and difficult over trails that even goats would avoid. Several times they'd had to stop to either pull one of the vehicles out of a sand trap or use the strips of perforated steel plating they had brought with them to dig down under the tires and pull themselves out.

  Dominic would have liked to take his shirt off but that would have been foolish. His tender skin would have developed second degree burns in a matter of minutes. The glare of the salt flats was eye piercing and the sun was only reflected and amplified by its whiteness.

  His body tried to cool itself by sweating; it did no good. As soon as moisture appeared on his lips or face it was gone, evaporated. The sweat that reached his shirt lasted little longer. When it was gone it left white streaks from his own body salts soaked into the material.

  Dominic put on dark glasses to ease the strain under the brim of his hat. He liked the desert; it felt good. The aching white was a comfort. For many the silence that could come to the barren lands was maddening. Not for him. It felt good. Clean.

  He felt better now that he was going to work. That was what he needed, and the desert was a good place for killing. And for dying. It had been too long since he was operational. He knew that something had started to go wrong with him in Indochina at Dien Bien Phu. A need to fight, not just kill, though that was an important part of it. Even his strong desire for women had diminished. Though he still enjoyed a little ass, it didn't have the same satisfaction to it unless he had been in battle. He knew that Carl and Gus were worried about him. But there was no need for such concern. He would not last much longer. Like Carl and Gus, he too had known men like himself who had become infected with the same disease he now carried in his soul. They had all died sooner than their compatriots. And it was almost always a violent death.

  He laughed out loud. The sound startled him; it was so unnatural in this place of silence. Maybe he would die this time. The thought of his own termination didn't upset Dominic at all. It gave him only a vague feeling of curiosity as to what would come next, if anything. Either way it didn't matter. He didn't matter anymore. He was like the others with the death sickness. He was just waiting, waiting for a time and place to die...

  One more check of his watch. It was time to try and make contact. Getting on the radio he
adjusted the squelch, set the frequency, and hit the talk button.

  "Silver. This is Gold. Do you read me? Over." Only static responded. He fine-tuned the frequency and turned up the volume. "Silver, this is Gold. Do you read me? Over." This time the response was a welcome voice, crackling a bit, requiring him to adjust the squelch.

  "Roger that, Gold. This is Silver. We are on our approach. How is it there?"

  "Wind from the south about ten to fifteen. The deck is clear. Come on in, the party's waiting."

  "Roger on that, Gold. Wind from the south ten to fifteen. Party is ready to play. Should be on the deck in ten. Do you roger that? Over."

  "Roger, on deck in ten. Out." Switching channels he spoke to the rest of the crew, reaching them on the walkie talkies. "Okay out there, keep your eyes and ears open. Silver is coming in. Let's not get careless. Keep your eyes off the strip and on the desert. We could still get company. Some of you never dealt with Tuaregs before. They can be sitting under your ass before you know they're there. So keep sharp and keep off the air till I call you."

  One by one they responded, acknowledging Dominic's orders. They would do as they were told. Those that had fought the Tuaregs before knew he was right. The serious manner in which they took Dominic's orders had the desired effect on the others who had had no experience with the nomads. All eyes faced out from the salt flat, fingers on the safeties of their weapons though the metal was so hot it was painful to touch. One of the men new to the desert wondered how hot it had to get before the bullets in the magazine would explode.

  Dominic saw the glint of silver in the sky before he heard the motors. The plane was making its approach. It rode just above the heat waves, coming straight on. The pilot must have had the salt flat lined up perfectly.