Down to Two
Disclaimer: Same as before.
Israeli Intelligence Field Office Somewhere in Gaza 8 May 2003 0800 Local Time
"Mac by nature is an early riser." Harm groaned to himself as he pushed himself off his cot. He was amazed that she even let him sleep in a couple hours. Jet lag will do that to you.
He spied a piece of paper next to his cot. "Harm, meet me in the interrogation room. Mac. P.S. You owe me."
Typical Sarah Mackenzie, concise and to the point, Harmon Rabb mused as he threw on his slacks and buttoned up a clean shirt. He tucked the shirt tail in and asked one of the Israeli plain clothes guards if Mac was still in the interrogation room. A curt nod was all he got, but it was sufficient for his purposes.
Harm opened the door to find Mac speaking with their witness. She was so involved with getting more details from the man that she didn't even know the door had been opened. He figured he'd just watch her for a few seconds and drink in the details. Mac wore a loose fitting white blouse that hugged the curves of her frame in the right places, as well as a pair of black denims and running shoes.
"I could get used to this." Harm mused to himself, for this assignment, civilian clothing was the uniform of the day for obvious reasons. Americans weren't very popular in the region at the moment, especially military Americans. He was so caught up on the train of thought that he didn't see Mac had swiveled the chair around and was now facing him, arms folded under her breasts with her trademark wry grin creasing her face.
"Don't get too comfortable flyboy." Mac replied, teasingly, "If I didn't know better, I'd swear you'd want to work for Webb just to walk around in civvies all day. Besides, you honestly think you can sneak up on a Marine?"
"You honestly looked like I had snuck up on you at the time." Harm pointed out.
"Deception is a crucial element of warfare squid." Mac teased. The Israeli soldier that was their witness sat relaxed in his chair, detachedly observing the banter between the two partners. It was easy to see the Danilov family resemblance in his nephew.
"So what happened after you left the cave?" Harm asked, forcing himself back to work.
"We fled over the most inhospitable terrain we could find to discourage pursuit. None of us was in the best state of mind at the time." Martin replied, "We were all tired, hungry, running on empty sir. And that's when the mother of all snowstorms hit us."
Sinai Desert 3 May 2003 0234 Local Time
"C'mon Avi, we have to stay to the high ground for a while longer." Martin cajoled. Of all people to be so utterly beaten down by the climbs in the mountains the last person he expected to be beaten was Avi.
The man was starting to wander off course every three seconds. Of course, the trio was doing so as well because exhaustion was starting to take its toll on them. "I can't go on much longer." Avi groaned.
"Damn it Avi. We have to keep going. Three more miles, and then we'll hide out in that gully just ahead of us." Martin replied.
"Heads up!" Benjamin shouted as he fired his Minimi downrange at a couple Egyptian trackers that were about to fire on the three fleeing Israeli soldiers.
It was as if the very natural segment of the Egyptian desert was offended by three Israeli soldiers traipsing her land and killing her native sons. A thick blanket of snow descended, blindingly fast, and caused visibility to drop to a point where the men could barely see past their faces.
The snow passed after about an hour and Martin turned around to find Benjamin, shivering but still alive, behind him. "Benjamin, where's Avi?"
"I don't know." Benjamin snapped, "He was with us when the storm hit."
"Avi!" Martin shouted, screw being tactical, if Avi was anywhere within hearing distance he'd know to respond.
"Avi!" Benjamin joined.
After about half an hour of fruitless searching Martin tabbed away from the mountain, "Martin, what about Avi?"
"What about Avi? He's either dead or still alive. And if the latter is true, he can take care of himself." Martin replied firmly.
Israeli Intelligence Field Office Somewhere in Gaza 8 May 2003 0815 Local Time
"So what happened to Avi?" Mac asked.
"Ma'am, we knew he could handle himself in the mountains." Martin replied, "Avi once got lost in the mountains on a training exercise for three days and when we found him he was sitting atop a boulder brewing Arab coffee and asked the rescue team, 'Where the hell were you guys? I was getting lonely up here.' So we figured he could handle himself. Anyway it was either stay and look for Avi and wind up captured or killed while doing so or run and bring back an Israeli strike force to go rescue the rest of the patrol."
"You left a team mate in the mountains all by himself?" Mac said, astounded, "You said he was in bad shape. How did you know that he would be alright?"
Harm whispered, "Mac, don't you think that he's been through enough? You're running the kid too hard."
"Sir, with all due respect, I fucked up." Martin replied, the remembering basic etiquette he replied, "My apologies, I made a mistake, a bad call. I should have tied an arm length piece of cord around each of our waists to make sure we didn't get separated, but I wasn't thinking properly either. The cold was getting to me too."
McMurphy's 7 May 2003 1830 Local Time
Sturgis, Bud, Harriet, and Danilov were all clustered around a table at a favorite JAG watering hole. The three more experienced JAG officers were explaining the ropes of the place to the newcomers.
"So let me get this straight," Danilov asked, "Harm and Mac have faced terrorist threats, psychotic stalkers, and any number of things that would have even the most seasoned veteran scared stiff and their afraid of their feelings for each other?"
"You hit the nail on the head sir." Harriet said.
"It's Jesse, not sir when we're not at work." Jesse replied, "Harm told me about that tradition he has with letting you call him by his first name."
"Right, sorry sir, I mean Jesse." Harriet replied, "Anyway, they've grown so close over the years its heartbreaking to see the fact that they can't express their feelings for each other."
"Reminds me of my nephew in some ways." Jesse replied, as he sipped his Heineken, "A brave fighter on one side and a bruised romantic on the other."
"What happened to him?" Harriet asked.
"There were a lot of things. First and foremost was his guilt that his fellow Israelis were dying during the wave of suicide attacks and gunfights." Jesse replied, "And like me, he is probably a very romantic individual, a part of his personality he hides under a gruff exterior."
"What happened?" Sturgis asked.
"Five years ago he was in the United States as an exchange student at the United States Coast Guard Academy in New London, Connecticut." Jesse began, "Then he was to be commissioned as a 2nd Lieutenant in the Israeli Defense Force."
Sturgis said, "What happened to him?"
Danilov withdrew a folded and yellowed sheet that contained a headline. "Coast Guard Cadet Murdered in the Middle East."
Israeli Intelligence Field Office Somewhere in Gaza 8 May 2003 0825 Local Time
"You were able to pass for an American, not just by your complexion, but you seem to understand our customs. Did you emigrate from the US?" Harm asked.
"No sir." Martin replied, "I was an exchange cadet at your US Coast Guard Academy."
"Did you lose your commission?" Harm asked.
"Sir, with all due respect I'd rather not comment." Martin replied, with forceful venom that hid a deep hurt, "Beyond the fact that I joined up to cleanse Zion of the vermin that infest her."
"You quit to rejoin your countrymen in their time of strife?" Harm said.
"Yes sir. I could not in good conscience enjoy a good life for four years while my fellow Israelis were dying and fighting in the streets of Gaza and the West Bank." Martin replied, "I have no regrets."
Martin gulped audibly, fingering a small wallet sized photograph that was well worn and never left his side for a moment. On missions he always taped it to the side of his weapon. He fingered the picture of a friend from those days. She was a kind natured, lively brunette that caught his eye from the moment they met. She was one of his closest friends, and by the start of their sophomore year he had already developed feelings for her. She was on a long range endurance cutter, the USCGS Bloodhound that was on port visit in Haifa, Israel. She and several of her friends had gone into Jerusalem to tour the ruins when she had been reported as missing when they got back to the Bloodhound. Three days later, her body had been found.
The look on the Israeli soldier's face was one that told of a hurt that had yet to heal. Something told Harm that the man's war was very personal, more so than he let on. "It was raining that night sir." Martin began, somberly as he dredged up memories.
"I was nineteen years old that day," Martin added, "I remember Diane telling me about how she was excited to see Israel for the first time. Then I heard about a missing cadet who had gotten separated from her tour group in Jerusalem. I pressed friends of mine on the Bloodhound for information but it wasn't forthcoming. Then she was found dead three days later."
Harm felt a chill run down his spine, it almost reminded him of his old Academy sweetheart Diane, and his own romantic tragedy. However, Martin had solid enemies to attack and leaving to join the Israeli Army was what helped him. Harm didn't find closure till almost a year after Diane had died.
"Some lonely nights when I walk the perimeter of our camp I see her in my mind's eye. I see her blushing, happy face before she boarded the Bloodhound to Haifa. She always had an unfathomable curiosity about other places around the world. I still see how the wind teased her short chestnut hair, the gleam of light on her rich brown eyes. Then I remember what the scum took away from me and I give them their dues." Martin replied.
How many people had he already killed? Well there were six that he knew of for certain. All had been close enough to breathe their last breaths into his face after he had exacted a terrible vengeance with his fighting knife. Men he killed in the heat of battle never counted, because soldiers are expected to kill in combat. He was referring to black ops in the Gaza Strip against Palestinian terrorists, like those that took Diane away from him. He remembered lurking in the shadows like some ghastly apparition and springing like a panther, snatching his target, jerking back his or her head and slitting the throat. The feeling of warm blood flowing onto his hands was one he wouldn't soon forget.
Gaza Strip September 18, 2002 0200 Local Time
The masked gunman walked openly through the shadows. This person was known for perpetrating at least a dozen shootings throughout the Gaza and had recently been involved in a daycare center shooting not more than one night ago. Little did the gunman know that time his time was short.
Martin hid deep in the shadows. He already knew that his unit was about to hit the terrorist safe house which would prove to be a nasty strong point that Palestinians could use to fight the Israelis that would exact their right of vengeance upon they who slaughter innocents.
Innocents like Diane. Someone he never got to say goodbye to, much less tell how he truly felt towards her. Remembering having to identify her remains and attending her funeral was enough for him. He slung his rifle, he wasn't gonna need it for this one. He drew instead a custom made fighting knife from his hip. He stealthily snuck behind the masked gunman and then ran noiselessly behind him and pulled back his head.
During the swift and violent struggle the gunman was found to be a woman. It didn't matter to Martin, as he slit her throat with a swift and practiced ease. He knew that these sort of people, regardless of age, gender, or social status did the same to innocent people.
"Red One, target neutralized."
"Red Two, target neutralized." Came the next voice.
"Three, target neutralized."
All around the safe house, Palestinian guerillas were dying because Israeli commandos snuck in and killed them silently and without remorse. It was as if the Angel of Death had passed into Palestinian territory. When the Israeli attack came at dawn that morning, it met light resistance, primarily because the Palestinian terrorists were either already dead or in hiding from Israeli soldiers that could strike silently out of nowhere. And Martin Danilov would remember clearly that he had killed four men and two women in this manner, striking from the shadows like a predator or an avenging angel depending on which side you spoke to.
Israeli Intelligence Field Office Somewhere in Gaza 8 May 2003 0910 Local Time
"It's as if something inside me already died." Martin said. He absently stared out a window, watching a detail of half a dozen Israeli soldiers, they had to be nineteen at the oldest.
"Look at these young tigers. Convinced of their own indestructibility." Martin replied, "Fighting alongside them makes you feel old, even if you're only one year senior to them."
Martin was in his mid-twenties, but his face carried the emotional scars of five years of bitter fighting for personal reasons, of a love unexpressed and of grief that had not diminished in those years. "My apologies for the tangent sir, I should be concentrating on the mission."
Sinai Desert 3 May 2003 0500 Local Time
"Martin, we've got to find Avi." Benjamin said.
"Benjamin, it's not that simple." Martin replied, "First we've got a number of pissed of Egyptians on our sixes. Second we have to get to the Americans, give them our cover story and get back to Israel to tell them what has happened to the rest of us. I don't even know if David and the others are still alive."
Martin tied a length of cord to Benjamin's webbing, "This is so we don't get separated."
"Incoming!" Benjamin shouted. Both men dived for cover as an Egyptian soldier fired an RPG downrange at them. Martin drew a bead and squeezed off two rounds that brought the man down, clawing at his throat.
They had been running and fighting continuously for hours now. Avi was gone, whether alive or dead, they didn't know. "Just our luck Avi's the one that makes it." Benjamin said, as he lugged his Minimi.
"I hope he does. If anyone has a chance of surviving in the mountains I bet Avi would any day of the week. He was raised in the Judean hills as a boy." Martin replied. He knew Avi was a skilled mountaineer, even a qualified alpine guide, but he remembered on the German Alpinejaeger course he had taken the story of a German Army Lieutenant Colonel who was more qualified than either Avi or Martin who had died when he got lost in the Alps.
If the cold doesn't get him, starvation or thirst will, and if those don't the Egyptians will get him. Martin thought, but he didn't want to tell Benjamin, the idealistic kid from Tel Aviv about how the mountains, regardless of their names, never returned the unfortunate men that were lost in them.
Israeli Intelligence Field Office Somewhere in Gaza 8 May 2003 0855 Local Time
"Mac, I'm going to go get some coffee, do you want some?" Harm asked.
"Sure." Mac said, inwardly she grimaced, as she figured out the Israelis could make damn fine infantry units but their coffee left much to be desired. It was as strong as battery acid and about as appealing to drink.
Harm hadn't been gone for more than five minutes when Mac heard a massive explosion outside the gate, the tremor shaking the building front. "HARM!" Mac shouted, sprinting through the door and around several running and very pissed off Israeli soldiers and Moussad personnel.
The front of the building had taken the brunt of the blast. Apparently a car had driven through the chain link fence and crashed against the side before the driver blew it up. "Harm?" Mac said, peering into the small kitchen, "HARM!"
She was at his side instantly as Harm stood up shakily, "Are you alright?"
"Mac, I'm alright. I saw that car go through the fence." Harm replied, then smiled one of his killer flyboy grins that still shone through despite his being covered with powdered concrete and dust. Mac picked a splinter of wood from his hair as she helped him rise.
"We'd best get you checked out flyboy." Mac replied, leading him towards the tiny and well stocked infirmary.
"Lay him down on the couch." Danilov said, adding a belated, "Ma'am."
Mac gently laid Harm down on the couch, just then remembering their Israeli witness was a certified field medic. "How many fingers am I holding up sir?"
"Two." Harm said, when Martin held two up.
Good, follow the finger." Martin said, he also shined a penlight into his eye.
"Other than a few abrasions and scrapes, one or two minor cuts, I'd say the commander will be fine momentarily but I recommend having the surgeon look him over." Martin replied, "That I got courtesy of the US Army 18-D Special Forces Medical Sergeant course after I got into the Sarayet Golany."
"Group! Atten-hut!" called an Israeli NCO.
"Report?" a grim looking Israeli officer, a short, squat man with a broad, muscular upper body. Mac and Harm both felt something familiar about this man.
"Sir, it was a suicide attack, the attackers were in an unmarked civilian vehicle filled with explosives." Martin replied.
"Casualties?" the officer asked.
"So far two confirmed dead, five wounded sir." Another Israeli, this one in civilian garb and a woman, replied.
Martin seemed visibly stiffened in the presence of the Israeli colonel. After the man had gone the Israeli woman answered, "Martin's father."
"His father?" Mac said, incredulously. Now she remembered that she'd seen him in the picture in Lt. Colonel Danilov's office, "How do you know our client?"
"My apologies ma'am, Ilsa Romanov, Moussad. I know the colonel because I was engaged to marry Martin after he would have graduated the academy."
Martin shot her a look, but Ilsa seemed unflappable and unaffected, "I couldn't agree with the colonel's matchmaking. I know Martin is a good soldier and would have agreed with his father's orders without his heart being in it. I couldn't give myself to a man who's heart belonged to someone an ocean away."
~ ~ ~ ~
Sorry this is all I can post, I've got a history test tomorrow. I'll explain the latest turns in the next chapter and the fate of the Red Witch patrol will be discovered shortly.
Disclaimer: Same as before.
Israeli Intelligence Field Office Somewhere in Gaza 8 May 2003 0800 Local Time
"Mac by nature is an early riser." Harm groaned to himself as he pushed himself off his cot. He was amazed that she even let him sleep in a couple hours. Jet lag will do that to you.
He spied a piece of paper next to his cot. "Harm, meet me in the interrogation room. Mac. P.S. You owe me."
Typical Sarah Mackenzie, concise and to the point, Harmon Rabb mused as he threw on his slacks and buttoned up a clean shirt. He tucked the shirt tail in and asked one of the Israeli plain clothes guards if Mac was still in the interrogation room. A curt nod was all he got, but it was sufficient for his purposes.
Harm opened the door to find Mac speaking with their witness. She was so involved with getting more details from the man that she didn't even know the door had been opened. He figured he'd just watch her for a few seconds and drink in the details. Mac wore a loose fitting white blouse that hugged the curves of her frame in the right places, as well as a pair of black denims and running shoes.
"I could get used to this." Harm mused to himself, for this assignment, civilian clothing was the uniform of the day for obvious reasons. Americans weren't very popular in the region at the moment, especially military Americans. He was so caught up on the train of thought that he didn't see Mac had swiveled the chair around and was now facing him, arms folded under her breasts with her trademark wry grin creasing her face.
"Don't get too comfortable flyboy." Mac replied, teasingly, "If I didn't know better, I'd swear you'd want to work for Webb just to walk around in civvies all day. Besides, you honestly think you can sneak up on a Marine?"
"You honestly looked like I had snuck up on you at the time." Harm pointed out.
"Deception is a crucial element of warfare squid." Mac teased. The Israeli soldier that was their witness sat relaxed in his chair, detachedly observing the banter between the two partners. It was easy to see the Danilov family resemblance in his nephew.
"So what happened after you left the cave?" Harm asked, forcing himself back to work.
"We fled over the most inhospitable terrain we could find to discourage pursuit. None of us was in the best state of mind at the time." Martin replied, "We were all tired, hungry, running on empty sir. And that's when the mother of all snowstorms hit us."
Sinai Desert 3 May 2003 0234 Local Time
"C'mon Avi, we have to stay to the high ground for a while longer." Martin cajoled. Of all people to be so utterly beaten down by the climbs in the mountains the last person he expected to be beaten was Avi.
The man was starting to wander off course every three seconds. Of course, the trio was doing so as well because exhaustion was starting to take its toll on them. "I can't go on much longer." Avi groaned.
"Damn it Avi. We have to keep going. Three more miles, and then we'll hide out in that gully just ahead of us." Martin replied.
"Heads up!" Benjamin shouted as he fired his Minimi downrange at a couple Egyptian trackers that were about to fire on the three fleeing Israeli soldiers.
It was as if the very natural segment of the Egyptian desert was offended by three Israeli soldiers traipsing her land and killing her native sons. A thick blanket of snow descended, blindingly fast, and caused visibility to drop to a point where the men could barely see past their faces.
The snow passed after about an hour and Martin turned around to find Benjamin, shivering but still alive, behind him. "Benjamin, where's Avi?"
"I don't know." Benjamin snapped, "He was with us when the storm hit."
"Avi!" Martin shouted, screw being tactical, if Avi was anywhere within hearing distance he'd know to respond.
"Avi!" Benjamin joined.
After about half an hour of fruitless searching Martin tabbed away from the mountain, "Martin, what about Avi?"
"What about Avi? He's either dead or still alive. And if the latter is true, he can take care of himself." Martin replied firmly.
Israeli Intelligence Field Office Somewhere in Gaza 8 May 2003 0815 Local Time
"So what happened to Avi?" Mac asked.
"Ma'am, we knew he could handle himself in the mountains." Martin replied, "Avi once got lost in the mountains on a training exercise for three days and when we found him he was sitting atop a boulder brewing Arab coffee and asked the rescue team, 'Where the hell were you guys? I was getting lonely up here.' So we figured he could handle himself. Anyway it was either stay and look for Avi and wind up captured or killed while doing so or run and bring back an Israeli strike force to go rescue the rest of the patrol."
"You left a team mate in the mountains all by himself?" Mac said, astounded, "You said he was in bad shape. How did you know that he would be alright?"
Harm whispered, "Mac, don't you think that he's been through enough? You're running the kid too hard."
"Sir, with all due respect, I fucked up." Martin replied, the remembering basic etiquette he replied, "My apologies, I made a mistake, a bad call. I should have tied an arm length piece of cord around each of our waists to make sure we didn't get separated, but I wasn't thinking properly either. The cold was getting to me too."
McMurphy's 7 May 2003 1830 Local Time
Sturgis, Bud, Harriet, and Danilov were all clustered around a table at a favorite JAG watering hole. The three more experienced JAG officers were explaining the ropes of the place to the newcomers.
"So let me get this straight," Danilov asked, "Harm and Mac have faced terrorist threats, psychotic stalkers, and any number of things that would have even the most seasoned veteran scared stiff and their afraid of their feelings for each other?"
"You hit the nail on the head sir." Harriet said.
"It's Jesse, not sir when we're not at work." Jesse replied, "Harm told me about that tradition he has with letting you call him by his first name."
"Right, sorry sir, I mean Jesse." Harriet replied, "Anyway, they've grown so close over the years its heartbreaking to see the fact that they can't express their feelings for each other."
"Reminds me of my nephew in some ways." Jesse replied, as he sipped his Heineken, "A brave fighter on one side and a bruised romantic on the other."
"What happened to him?" Harriet asked.
"There were a lot of things. First and foremost was his guilt that his fellow Israelis were dying during the wave of suicide attacks and gunfights." Jesse replied, "And like me, he is probably a very romantic individual, a part of his personality he hides under a gruff exterior."
"What happened?" Sturgis asked.
"Five years ago he was in the United States as an exchange student at the United States Coast Guard Academy in New London, Connecticut." Jesse began, "Then he was to be commissioned as a 2nd Lieutenant in the Israeli Defense Force."
Sturgis said, "What happened to him?"
Danilov withdrew a folded and yellowed sheet that contained a headline. "Coast Guard Cadet Murdered in the Middle East."
Israeli Intelligence Field Office Somewhere in Gaza 8 May 2003 0825 Local Time
"You were able to pass for an American, not just by your complexion, but you seem to understand our customs. Did you emigrate from the US?" Harm asked.
"No sir." Martin replied, "I was an exchange cadet at your US Coast Guard Academy."
"Did you lose your commission?" Harm asked.
"Sir, with all due respect I'd rather not comment." Martin replied, with forceful venom that hid a deep hurt, "Beyond the fact that I joined up to cleanse Zion of the vermin that infest her."
"You quit to rejoin your countrymen in their time of strife?" Harm said.
"Yes sir. I could not in good conscience enjoy a good life for four years while my fellow Israelis were dying and fighting in the streets of Gaza and the West Bank." Martin replied, "I have no regrets."
Martin gulped audibly, fingering a small wallet sized photograph that was well worn and never left his side for a moment. On missions he always taped it to the side of his weapon. He fingered the picture of a friend from those days. She was a kind natured, lively brunette that caught his eye from the moment they met. She was one of his closest friends, and by the start of their sophomore year he had already developed feelings for her. She was on a long range endurance cutter, the USCGS Bloodhound that was on port visit in Haifa, Israel. She and several of her friends had gone into Jerusalem to tour the ruins when she had been reported as missing when they got back to the Bloodhound. Three days later, her body had been found.
The look on the Israeli soldier's face was one that told of a hurt that had yet to heal. Something told Harm that the man's war was very personal, more so than he let on. "It was raining that night sir." Martin began, somberly as he dredged up memories.
"I was nineteen years old that day," Martin added, "I remember Diane telling me about how she was excited to see Israel for the first time. Then I heard about a missing cadet who had gotten separated from her tour group in Jerusalem. I pressed friends of mine on the Bloodhound for information but it wasn't forthcoming. Then she was found dead three days later."
Harm felt a chill run down his spine, it almost reminded him of his old Academy sweetheart Diane, and his own romantic tragedy. However, Martin had solid enemies to attack and leaving to join the Israeli Army was what helped him. Harm didn't find closure till almost a year after Diane had died.
"Some lonely nights when I walk the perimeter of our camp I see her in my mind's eye. I see her blushing, happy face before she boarded the Bloodhound to Haifa. She always had an unfathomable curiosity about other places around the world. I still see how the wind teased her short chestnut hair, the gleam of light on her rich brown eyes. Then I remember what the scum took away from me and I give them their dues." Martin replied.
How many people had he already killed? Well there were six that he knew of for certain. All had been close enough to breathe their last breaths into his face after he had exacted a terrible vengeance with his fighting knife. Men he killed in the heat of battle never counted, because soldiers are expected to kill in combat. He was referring to black ops in the Gaza Strip against Palestinian terrorists, like those that took Diane away from him. He remembered lurking in the shadows like some ghastly apparition and springing like a panther, snatching his target, jerking back his or her head and slitting the throat. The feeling of warm blood flowing onto his hands was one he wouldn't soon forget.
Gaza Strip September 18, 2002 0200 Local Time
The masked gunman walked openly through the shadows. This person was known for perpetrating at least a dozen shootings throughout the Gaza and had recently been involved in a daycare center shooting not more than one night ago. Little did the gunman know that time his time was short.
Martin hid deep in the shadows. He already knew that his unit was about to hit the terrorist safe house which would prove to be a nasty strong point that Palestinians could use to fight the Israelis that would exact their right of vengeance upon they who slaughter innocents.
Innocents like Diane. Someone he never got to say goodbye to, much less tell how he truly felt towards her. Remembering having to identify her remains and attending her funeral was enough for him. He slung his rifle, he wasn't gonna need it for this one. He drew instead a custom made fighting knife from his hip. He stealthily snuck behind the masked gunman and then ran noiselessly behind him and pulled back his head.
During the swift and violent struggle the gunman was found to be a woman. It didn't matter to Martin, as he slit her throat with a swift and practiced ease. He knew that these sort of people, regardless of age, gender, or social status did the same to innocent people.
"Red One, target neutralized."
"Red Two, target neutralized." Came the next voice.
"Three, target neutralized."
All around the safe house, Palestinian guerillas were dying because Israeli commandos snuck in and killed them silently and without remorse. It was as if the Angel of Death had passed into Palestinian territory. When the Israeli attack came at dawn that morning, it met light resistance, primarily because the Palestinian terrorists were either already dead or in hiding from Israeli soldiers that could strike silently out of nowhere. And Martin Danilov would remember clearly that he had killed four men and two women in this manner, striking from the shadows like a predator or an avenging angel depending on which side you spoke to.
Israeli Intelligence Field Office Somewhere in Gaza 8 May 2003 0910 Local Time
"It's as if something inside me already died." Martin said. He absently stared out a window, watching a detail of half a dozen Israeli soldiers, they had to be nineteen at the oldest.
"Look at these young tigers. Convinced of their own indestructibility." Martin replied, "Fighting alongside them makes you feel old, even if you're only one year senior to them."
Martin was in his mid-twenties, but his face carried the emotional scars of five years of bitter fighting for personal reasons, of a love unexpressed and of grief that had not diminished in those years. "My apologies for the tangent sir, I should be concentrating on the mission."
Sinai Desert 3 May 2003 0500 Local Time
"Martin, we've got to find Avi." Benjamin said.
"Benjamin, it's not that simple." Martin replied, "First we've got a number of pissed of Egyptians on our sixes. Second we have to get to the Americans, give them our cover story and get back to Israel to tell them what has happened to the rest of us. I don't even know if David and the others are still alive."
Martin tied a length of cord to Benjamin's webbing, "This is so we don't get separated."
"Incoming!" Benjamin shouted. Both men dived for cover as an Egyptian soldier fired an RPG downrange at them. Martin drew a bead and squeezed off two rounds that brought the man down, clawing at his throat.
They had been running and fighting continuously for hours now. Avi was gone, whether alive or dead, they didn't know. "Just our luck Avi's the one that makes it." Benjamin said, as he lugged his Minimi.
"I hope he does. If anyone has a chance of surviving in the mountains I bet Avi would any day of the week. He was raised in the Judean hills as a boy." Martin replied. He knew Avi was a skilled mountaineer, even a qualified alpine guide, but he remembered on the German Alpinejaeger course he had taken the story of a German Army Lieutenant Colonel who was more qualified than either Avi or Martin who had died when he got lost in the Alps.
If the cold doesn't get him, starvation or thirst will, and if those don't the Egyptians will get him. Martin thought, but he didn't want to tell Benjamin, the idealistic kid from Tel Aviv about how the mountains, regardless of their names, never returned the unfortunate men that were lost in them.
Israeli Intelligence Field Office Somewhere in Gaza 8 May 2003 0855 Local Time
"Mac, I'm going to go get some coffee, do you want some?" Harm asked.
"Sure." Mac said, inwardly she grimaced, as she figured out the Israelis could make damn fine infantry units but their coffee left much to be desired. It was as strong as battery acid and about as appealing to drink.
Harm hadn't been gone for more than five minutes when Mac heard a massive explosion outside the gate, the tremor shaking the building front. "HARM!" Mac shouted, sprinting through the door and around several running and very pissed off Israeli soldiers and Moussad personnel.
The front of the building had taken the brunt of the blast. Apparently a car had driven through the chain link fence and crashed against the side before the driver blew it up. "Harm?" Mac said, peering into the small kitchen, "HARM!"
She was at his side instantly as Harm stood up shakily, "Are you alright?"
"Mac, I'm alright. I saw that car go through the fence." Harm replied, then smiled one of his killer flyboy grins that still shone through despite his being covered with powdered concrete and dust. Mac picked a splinter of wood from his hair as she helped him rise.
"We'd best get you checked out flyboy." Mac replied, leading him towards the tiny and well stocked infirmary.
"Lay him down on the couch." Danilov said, adding a belated, "Ma'am."
Mac gently laid Harm down on the couch, just then remembering their Israeli witness was a certified field medic. "How many fingers am I holding up sir?"
"Two." Harm said, when Martin held two up.
Good, follow the finger." Martin said, he also shined a penlight into his eye.
"Other than a few abrasions and scrapes, one or two minor cuts, I'd say the commander will be fine momentarily but I recommend having the surgeon look him over." Martin replied, "That I got courtesy of the US Army 18-D Special Forces Medical Sergeant course after I got into the Sarayet Golany."
"Group! Atten-hut!" called an Israeli NCO.
"Report?" a grim looking Israeli officer, a short, squat man with a broad, muscular upper body. Mac and Harm both felt something familiar about this man.
"Sir, it was a suicide attack, the attackers were in an unmarked civilian vehicle filled with explosives." Martin replied.
"Casualties?" the officer asked.
"So far two confirmed dead, five wounded sir." Another Israeli, this one in civilian garb and a woman, replied.
Martin seemed visibly stiffened in the presence of the Israeli colonel. After the man had gone the Israeli woman answered, "Martin's father."
"His father?" Mac said, incredulously. Now she remembered that she'd seen him in the picture in Lt. Colonel Danilov's office, "How do you know our client?"
"My apologies ma'am, Ilsa Romanov, Moussad. I know the colonel because I was engaged to marry Martin after he would have graduated the academy."
Martin shot her a look, but Ilsa seemed unflappable and unaffected, "I couldn't agree with the colonel's matchmaking. I know Martin is a good soldier and would have agreed with his father's orders without his heart being in it. I couldn't give myself to a man who's heart belonged to someone an ocean away."
~ ~ ~ ~
Sorry this is all I can post, I've got a history test tomorrow. I'll explain the latest turns in the next chapter and the fate of the Red Witch patrol will be discovered shortly.