Chapter 6

The Mission

Outside San Diego – May 6th

A black SUV pulled off the highway and into a nondescript rest stop. It drove slowly through the parking lot to the far end, where it pulled in next to two others that were already there. Five sets of eyes tracked the SUV as it arrived, two by one picnic table and three others by another.

The SUV stopped and disgorged its three passengers. Dressed in loose fitting camouflage pants, sweatshirts and orange vests, they were immediately identified as hunters. They were identified and dismissed, just another group of the same – middle-aged men trying to bond in the woods over dead birds and beer.

The back of the vehicle was filled with camping gear, just as anyone would expect to find. Indeed, their examination at the Mexican border had been routine. The U.S. Customs agent had even commented that they were the third group to have come through that day. A brief check, and they were waved through.

If the agent had done a detailed search of the SUV, he would have found much more than the shotguns and tents that were readily apparent. He would have found the high-tech weapons and communications gear of an SAS team. But that didn't happen – couldn't happen. The commandos were experts at disguising themselves and their gear by appearing to be exactly what was expected.

Now, all three groups were here at this rest stop, and they slowly gathered back towards their trucks. The eight-man commando team had successfully infiltrated the United States of America.

They had landed on a small island off the coast of Mexico, and then proceeded by fishing boat onto the mainland. There, in a small village, they had met their contacts and proceeded inland in the back of a farm truck. On a decrepit farm in the desert, they had been supplied with vehicles, false identification, and camping equipment. They had spent the night repacking and disguising their gear and going over their plan.

They had left separately, an hour between each vehicle. Each had crossed the border without incident, relying on the strength of the border patrol's profiling. They would not be suspected, and indeed they weren't. Now, they were at the rendezvous point; it was time to learn of their final destination.

The men stood in a loose circle in a grassy area ten feet from the vehicles. They carefully checked to make sure that no one was within earshot. Sheffield looked at each of them in turn, taking their measure. When he was sure he had their attention, he spoke.

"We're heading to a small city north of hear called Sunnydale," he said. "You can find it on your maps. Mac is handing out the envelopes with the next rendezvous address. Wait until you get back on the road, then open the envelopes and enter the information in the GPS. That will guide you to our operation point. You'll find out more there."

The men nodded, and then Mac spoke. "We'll leave in the order we arrived, twenty minute separations. Maintain speed – we don't need a highway patrol officer undoing this action. Keep speculations to a minimum, you'll all find out more when we arrive."

"Dismissed," Sheffield said simply. They men split into three groups once again. Within moments, the first group was on the road.

* * *

The meeting point was a rental house on the outskirts of Sunnydale. It was nothing to look at, with flaking paint, a yard full of weeds and a sagging porch roof. On the other hand, the house was sufficient for the men and their gear. It also had easy access to the back alleys of the city and the sewers. The neighbors, what few there were, also minded their own business. It was, if not ideal, the closest thing possible. And since it had a pirated cable TV feed, it formed a much more comfortable space than many the team had camped out in over the years.

It was late when they arrived, and the men had been going for almost thirty-six hours already. They quickly unpacked the vehicles and covered them with tarps – new SUVs would be mighty suspicious in this neighborhood. The essentials were taken from their gear – electronic monitoring gear for the house, sleeping bags, and small arms.

All but one of the men bedded down for the night. Brody knew that he would be taking first watch and had made sure that he slept during the drive. Armed with a portable monitor for the swiftly constructed security system and an automatic rifle, he set himself in the corner of the living room to calmly keep guard for the next four hours. He would be relieved at 4am by Jessup. Until then, though, everyone else could sleep well. No one got past James Brody.

* * *

The next morning, the team gathered in the small kitchen of the rental house. In addition to keeping guard, Jessup had put on coffee, much to everyone's relief. The men nibbled on ration bars from their own packs as they waited for Sheffield to tell them what they were doing. Sheffield eventually arrived, turned out perfectly, looking as if he had slept for twelve hours straight in a fine feather bed.

He nodded genially to the group, and turned towards Mac. "Captain, the folder please," he said. MacKenzie produced a stack of folders, seemingly from nowhere, and passed them out. Everyone opened to the first page, an 8x10 photo of a blonde girl. "This," Sheffield said, holding up the picture, "is Buffy Summers. She's the reason that we're here." He waited for everyone to get a good look. "Buffy Summers is the Slayer. Mr. MacKenzie, would you care to enlighten the men?"

"The Slayer is a myth. A young lassie, called to fight the vampires and demons that walk the Earth, gifted with the power to do so." He looked back to Sheffield. "No one really knows if it's true, though."

"Well, the Americans seem to think so," replied Sheffield. "An American operation came in contact with her a year ago. They documented not only her existence, but also her abilities. She was able to take out an entire American commando team in under thirty seconds."

"So, we're here to take her out?" asked Jessup.

"No," replied Sheffield. "We're here to observe and report. Her, her friends, and anyone she else she comes into contact with. A civilian operative will contact us later this week with further instructions. For now, you have four hours to familiarize yourself with everything in this file – her, her friends, and her known habits. At 10am, we are in the field and taking observations."

Mac stepped up at that point. "That means you have four hours to get your gear checked and stowed, familiarize yourself with the file, and prepare for a civilian infiltration. Johnson, I want communications and surveillance gear ready by 0900. Cook, I want you to go out and acquire local supplies by 0900 as well. We'll need food, personal items, and any other supplies anyone can think of. We'll meet back here at 0930 for duty assignments." He nodded back to Sheffield.

"Dismissed," he said. Then men dispersed in all directions.

They unpacked quickly and efficiently. Weapons and ammunition were taken from their hiding places and reassembled. The camping gear that had previously been used for disguise was stowed in the basement. A more permanent security system was put in place in the house.

Mac reviewed the Summers' file and began matching her major activities against their inventory of electronics gear. It was a process of trying to do too much with too little – something that the SAS excelled at. In the end, he decided to split the team into two groups – one to cover locations such as the campus and the Magic Box and one to follow Buffy and her friends individually. They would need to rotate regularly so that no one person would become too recognizable. But with good timing and careful execution, the task would be doable.

He had barely enough time to run the plan by Sheffield before the team converged on the kitchen. Sheffield approved of the deployment plan, making a few changes in who was assigned to which task. He also had input into the redeployment plans, preferring to manage those himself. Mac was still making the appropriate changes on his handheld computer as he walked into the kitchen.

The kitchen, per his orders, had been appropriately stocked. The men had helped themselves and begun assembling sandwiches, which were being passed out throughout the room. They also handed out bottles of water to wash it down with. The group quickly came to attention as Mac and Sheffield entered the room.

Mac surveyed the team. They were dressed in a variety of civilian clothes, representing a cross-section of Sunnydale's population. Each of them looked plain, but Mac knew that they were each not only lethally armed but also equipped with the best surveillance equipment. He approved.

"Pay attention gentleman, I have your assignments here …."