PART VI: Sahara
Thursday, June 22nd, 2017
Modibo Keita International Airport
Bamako, Mali, North Africa
19:30 GMT+2 (17:30 GMT June 22nd)
The Boeing 777-300ER touched down with the usual chirp of rubber on tarmac as all twelve tyres of the main landing gear kissed the runway, just moments before the twin tyres of the nose gear produced a unified chirp as they too touched down.
The aircraft rapidly reduced speed due to the shorter than usual runway. After decelerating and executing a tight about turn at the far end of the runway, the large aircraft taxied back down the runway to the first turnoff, Taxiway A to their right. They were then directed to a parking bay beside the VIP Terminal. The Boeing was the largest aircraft which they had handled in a long while and she took up a major part of the available hard standing, the starboard wingtip impinging on the next parking bay. However, the chances of a second 777 landing at the airport and needing a parking space during their stay were suitably negligible.
As the strike team disembarked down a set of passenger boarding stairs, there was a sense of foreboding amongst those leaving and those remaining behind. They all knew that a nasty battle was probably imminent and that some may not come back in one piece – or worse. The strike team numbered thirty-one and would be a formidable force, considering that it was drawing from Fusion, Vengeance, and Honneur. The eighteen who remained behind were there to defend the aircraft and, if necessary, provide tactical support to those on the ground.
Everybody had a job to do.
The Phoenix (18)
Jennifer Staite (Surgeon), Shannon Miller (Stormtide), Marc Ryan (Tempest), Marty Eisenburg (Battle Guy), Danny Lizewski (Ravage), Anne-Marie Lizewski (Rogue), Hailee Richards (Petra), Becky Bennett (Scamp), Annabelle Miller (Hellcat), Iain Miller (Tigercat), Ariana McKenna (Thunderstorm), Xiāngxìn Staite (Tao Wu), Lin Staite (Tao Tei), Andrew Bedford (Allegiant), Kaitlin Bedford (Glide), Naomi Bedford (Prowl), Rachel Clarkson (Doctrina), Jeremy Lai (Harrier)
Strike Team Alpha (15)
Callsign: Sierra Alpha Command: Patrick Miller (Astute) Operators: Chloe Bennett (Shadow), Marinette Cheng (La Coccinelle), Dakota McFadden (Arbiter), Cassie Bedford (Nemesis), Lucy Ford (Piranha), Jamie Lizewski (Rage), Tommy Morgan (Splinter), Jake Bedford (Resolute), Abigail Murphy (Fury), Saoirse Hella (Foxtail), Olivia Kensington (Ajax), Scarlett Radford (Pyrrha) Technical Support: Abby Hunt (Hal), Amber Dawson (Spark)
Strike Team Bravo (14)
Callsign: Sierra Bravo Command: Dave Lizewski (Kick-Ass) Operators: Mindy Lizewski (Hit Girl), Stephanie Lizewski (Psyche), Joshua Williams (Jackal), Mathilda Lando (Leon), Eva Horton (Nox), Curtis Bennett (Trojan), Megan Williams (Wildcat), Ruth Anders (Songbird), Charlotte Perrin (Intrepid), Yvette Dubois (La Terreaur), Owen Sterling (Termino), Electra Haig (Rigour), Craig Montgomery (Stripe)
Aviation Element (2)
Callsign: Sierra Echo Command: Willow Harrison (Rampart) Crew: Freya Thompson (Obsidian)
Modibo Keita International Airport
19:48 GMT+2 (17:48 GMT June 22nd)
The two strike teams, along with all of their equipment, headed across the airport to where another aircraft would take them across Mali.
"You have got to be kidding me!" Stephanie exclaimed as she laid eyes on the four-engine aircraft which Mindy was making for.
"An Antonov An-12," Willow lectured. "Russian military transport now used by some civilian airlines. Over twelve hundred were built from 1959 onward."
"You mean that aircraft could be fifty years old!" Megan threw in.
"I think she was built in 1968, or so the pilot told me," Mindy said.
"Nothing that old could possibly still function!" Abigail exclaimed.
Patrick coughed discretely.
"I'm old, not obsolete," he pointed out.
"Yeah, Pops!" Megan grinned.
The aircraft was painted a smart dark blue all over, including the vertical stabiliser, however, the paintwork was old and in need of a touch up. The glazed nose, harking back to the days when the aircraft was a Soviet bomber, looked somehow out of place, not featuring on modern western aircraft. The four four-bladed propellers were affixed to engines mounted on wings affixed to the top of the fuselage. The pilot, when he appeared, looked as old as the aircraft.
"Welcome! Welcome!" the man offered in an American accent. "Board via the tail, please."
Megan and Stephanie were expecting comfortable seating, but when they strode up the steep ramp, their jaws dropped at the decidedly spartan interior with nothing more than canvas troop seats arranged down each side of the cavernous cargo bay.
"Could be worse!" Abigail stated as she plonked her bottom down in a seat after adding her rucksack to the growing pile on a cargo pallet which was strapped down just forward of the ramp.
Five minutes later, Abigail's mood had soured.
"These seats suck!" she stated, ignoring Stephanie and Megan who laughed.
"Everyone set?" Mindy asked.
"I suppose," Megan scowled as the aft ramp motored closed and the four Ivchenko AI-20L turboprop engines coughed noisily into life, one at a time, with clouds of smoky blackness thundering out of the exhausts.
Stephanie watched the ramp raise up and the rear door lower into place with barely concealed trepidation. The ageing aircraft vibrated significantly as the propellers spun up to speed. The aircraft then lurched forward as the brakes were released to allow the aircraft to taxi to the runway. Stephanie could feel each and every bump as the undercarriage trundled across the uneven concrete. Then, once in position, and with a thunderous roar, the forty-tonne aircraft accelerated down the runway, building up speed. The 36-metre wings then bit into the air as they passed V1 and then V2, the pilot pulling back on the yoke to encourage the aircraft into the air.
They increased altitude before turning northeast and then starting their journey to Gao – a flight of 507nm which would take them an hour and a half at 360 knots – assuming they actually made it.
Aboard Antonov An-12 'Mad Mauve'
20:17 GMT+2 (18:17 GMT June 22nd)
It was barely ten minutes into the flight and Willow was not incredibly happy with the aircraft.
The Ivchenko AI-20L engines were anything but smooth in their running, but at least they ran, Willow thought, already fed up with their droning. She made her way up to the cockpit where she found the pilot in the left seat, and she was amazed by the appalling antiquity of the dials. She had never seen such ancient instrumentation, all of which was considerably older than she was – indeed, it was probably older than her parents! The only nod to modern instrumentation was an eight-inch GPS screen mounted ahead of the pilot at the top of the instrument panel. The pilot held a very old-fashioned-looking yoke and his eyes were focussed on the myriad of analogue readouts spread before him. Willow's eyes identified several of the instruments before she was lost, especially as many were only labelled in Cyrillic. Beneath the instrument panel, a walkway vanished into the nose to where the bombardier would have sat.
"A beauty, right?" the pilot chuckled.
The man was in his fifties with thinning black hair which was turning grey in more places than the man liked. He was dressed in jeans and a leather flying jacket with black leather flying boots on his feet.
"She has a charm," Willow replied loudly enough to be heard.
"Sturdy and reliable," the man offered. "Hank Dewhurst."
"Willow."
"You a pilot?"
"What makes you ask that?"
"The way you look at the instruments."
"Yes, I fly helicopters," Willow admitted.
"My co-pilot is Yves Canard – he's a frog."
The co-pilot was younger than Hank and dressed in more modern clothing which included lightweight bush trousers and a bush jacket.
"Bonjour, Willow."
"Hi."
"You CIA?" Willow asked.
Hank chuckled.
"My Dad flew in Vietnam for Air America," Hank replied with a twinkle in his eyes. "You could say we fly for a similar organisation."
Willow remained in the cockpit for much of the flight, enjoying the view and observing the two pilots.
..._..
Further aft, in the decidedly austere cargo bay, Stephanie and Abigail were glaring at Mindy.
"What?" Mindy asked.
"If you were so short, we could have loaned you some cash," Stephanie growled.
Mindy laughed.
"This was anything but cheap, honey," Mindy replied before adding cryptically. "Looks aren't everything."
Abigail scowled as she looked around the barren cargo bay not buying it. However, she knew that Mindy would never skimp on cost . . . then it hit her like a shell hitting a battleship: the aircraft was a front for something and was supposed to look rundown. A few seconds later, Abigail saw the proverbial lightbulb explode like a supernova behind Stephanie's eyes. Mindy just laughed as she saw the proverbial penny drop before she turned back to her partner. Dave was fast asleep – the bugger could sleep just about anywhere. Scattered around the cargo bay, some slept while others chatted amongst themselves – loudly! Tommy, Jamie, and Curtis appeared to be up to no good as Megan, Ruth, Yvette, and Charlotte were glaring at them. Jake was with Owen and Craig, the three of them probably cooking up some way to annoy the girls. Olivia, Freya, and Eva were laughing animatedly as they kept glancing over towards where Electra, Dakota, and Amber sat with Scarlett. Patrick was fast asleep, as were Cassie, Marinette, and Mathilda. Abby was busy on her laptop while Chloe and Joshua talked together. Lucy was also busy on a laptop, planning, she said. That just left Saoirse who appeared to be keeping herself to herself. However, Mindy could see that the girl was focussed on Stephanie and Abigail.
Mindy had a good idea why, too.
Gao International Airport
21:35 GMT+2 (19:35 GMT June 22nd)
It was with great relief that they felt the thump of the landing gear on the hard dirt runway as the ancient – in their eyes at least – aircraft settled onto the ground, a huge cloud of dust billowing in its wake.
"We arrived?" Dave asked as he opened his eyes.
"Yes, we have arrived," Mindy replied, somewhat testily.
However, as they disembarked down the ramp, most were not overly happy with what they found their next transport to be. The old bus had seen better days – probably forty years before – and was apparently held together by rust, duct tape, and the will of God.
"At least we have air conditioning," Megan quipped to Abigail as they climbed aboard.
"What, the holes in the floor?" Abigail responded tartly.
The youngster was not amused by her lot in life. She hated the heat. She hated the humidity. She hated the sand. She hated having to 'rough it'.
"Could be worse!" Stephanie grinned as she sat down in a window seat, dragging her friend with her.
"How?" Abigail demanded.
"You could be sitting with doofus," Stephanie said, pointing at her brother, Jamie.
"Fuck off!" Jamie retorted with a cheeky grin.
Mindy rolled her eyes as she boarded the bus to see Stephanie, Abigail, and Jamie bickering over something.
"Will you three just get a fucking room!" Mindy called out.
"Ewww!" Stephanie exclaimed. "He's my brother!"
Abigail simply grinned broadly as Jamie cringed.
"Oh, get a grip!" Megan said loudly as she pushed past with Curtis in tow.
"Let's sit here, shall we?" Abigail suggested as she moved into the seat across from Stephanie, dragging a concerned Jamie with her.
"This seat taken?" Tommy asked Stephanie.
"Not anymore," Stephanie replied with a glare in Abigail's direction. "Please – you're much better company than my brother's girlfriend."
Abigail stuck her tongue out at Stephanie who glowered back.
"Behave, Stephanie," Tommy cautioned as he gave her a kiss on the cheek.
Jamie grinned and was about to make a snarky comment when Abigail grabbed him, and she kissed the boy full on the lips.
..._...
Whereas Bamako, in the decidedly greener portion of the country, was the capital and largest city of Mali, Gao was the opposite.
Instead of over two million inhabitants, less than ninety thousand called the capital of the Gao Region home. The temperature was a not so pleasant 41° Celsius but with a humidity of only around thirteen per cent making the place dry as a bone.
"Remind you of anywhere?" Joshua asked Mindy darkly.
"Unfortunately," Mindy hissed.
"At least it's dry," Chloe conceded.
"And there aren't a million little creatures trying to eat you alive," Dave commented.
Patrick took the first shift, driving up the Avenue de l'Aéroport, through the city, heading northwest. The road was compacted dirt with housing compounds on either side and various indigenous greenery consisting of trees and scrub. All around them, people went about their business, generally ignoring the dark red bus as it weaved through the light traffic. The majority of vehicles were of the four-wheel-drive variety and many were in low states of repair. After three miles and about three hundred yards short of the Niger river, Patrick hauled the bus around a roundabout, heading north up the RN8 highway. Three miles further on, they rumbled out of the city, the houses and compounds giving way to open scrubland and sand – a lot of sand. The mud road passed through small towns and generally followed the river which was visible off to the left. After an hour, they had covered about forty-eight kilometres and they were rounding steep sandstone ridges which stretched up many hundreds of feet. The scenery was amazing as the sun began to sink lower in the sky, however, the sand was a constant irritation as it billowed through the open windows and in through the myriad of rusty holes in the bodywork. Water was constantly being drunk, not only to keep hydrated, but also to wash the sand out of their mouths.
Stephanie was asleep, her head resting on Tommy's shoulder. The boy took a swig of water and he rinsed his mouth before he swallowed the gritty mixture, grimacing as he did so. The sand hung in the air as the bus pounded and clattered along the hard mud road, the barely-there suspension not really ironing out the bumps for the passengers. Indeed, Tommy was struggling to understand how Stephanie could actually sleep in such uncomfortable and bouncy conditions. Across the bus, Jamie and Abigail were chatting quietly with Abigail giggling regularly. Elsewhere in the bus, there was steady chatter amongst those aboard as the bus rumbled along.
Almost an hour later, the bus rumbled into the town of Bourem which sat on the Niger river where it turned south towards Gao.
Bourem
23:55 GMT+2 (21:55 GMT June 22nd)
It was very dark when they pulled up in a small compound a dozen yards from the Niger river.
Everyone slept aboard the bus, stretching out on the floor and seats as best they could, using blankets and pillows to afford just a small modicum of comfort. The senior members kept a wary eye open considering they were in what could be loosely termed 'a bad neighbourhood'. Indeed, just five years previously, in 2012, there had been a Tuareg rebellion in the region which had ultimately been put down by the French military in 2014. That had included Gao and Bourem. Mindy, a knife in her left hand and a small pistol in her right hand, was fast asleep towards the back of the bus between Jamie and Stephanie. Dave grinned, knowing that Mindy slept better when in the wild and her children were close. Mindy was worried about Danny and Anne-Marie who were now almost a thousand kilometres away, all the way across Mali in Bamako. As for the children, Stephanie was cuddled into Tommy while Abigail was cuddled into Jamie – and all were fast asleep. As were most of the others.
"I only see bad ahead of us," Lucy said.
"You're not far wrong," Dave admitted.
"Just business as usual," Cassie commented. "I'll take the first watch – you two get some beauty sleep."
"Yes ma'am!" Dave grinned as he lay down close to Mindy, a G36C cradled in his arms.
Lucy slipped into a corner near the front of the bus, a G36C cradled in her own arms as she closed her eyes and slipped into a troubled sleep. Cassie took a look around, checking that all was well before she sat down on the seat closest to the driver and she gazed out into the darkness with a portable set of NVGs.
She could see nothing which could be deemed a threat, so she settled into her mind-numbing watch.
Friday, June 23rd
Bourem
07:45 GMT+2 (05:45 GMT June 23rd)
Stephanie awoke first, stumbling over her colleagues as she found her way to the front of the bus.
There, Lucy grinned at the younger girl.
"Morning, Steph!"
"Hi, Lucy," Stephanie replied. "All good?"
"All good – a lovely day out there."
"Hot, dry, sandy – just peachy!" Stephanie responded as she pushed open the door and jumped down onto the ground outside.
"Bloody ray of sunshine you are," Lucy chuckled.
Stephanie looked up into the clear blue sky, avoiding the dazzling rays of the sun. Then she paused as a Malian approached her and the bus. Stephanie hesitated for a moment, studying the man who had to be in his forties. She was about to say something when the man smiled and spoke directly to her.
"You must be Stephanie."
"How...?" Stephanie responded.
"Have no fear, young Stephanie," the man replied, grinning broadly. "My name is Hakim Aziz and I am a friend of your mother. You appear confused – understandable. Many years ago, I was a young boy and I visited America with my father, looking for a new life. I went to school and I studied. Years later, I joined the New York Police Department and once I completed training, I was sent to the 61st Precinct in Brooklyn. There I met two amazing police officers who took me under their wing. They taught me how to be a police officer and how to be fair but tough. I will never forget the time I spent with Sergeant Macready and Officer Williams; they were amazing teachers and, in my eyes, super cops. I returned to Mali fifteen years ago – I remember your mother when she was about four years old . . . a lovely little thing with pigtails."
"Pigtails?"
"Don't listen to him, Steph," Mindy laughed.
"Mindy."
"Hakim."
Stephanie watched as Mindy and the man hugged for a few moments before Mindy turned to her daughter.
"Hakim has obtained some more suitable transport for the next part of our travels," Mindy said.
Hakim grinned as he stepped over to where several large objects sat covered in various multi-coloured tarpaulins.
"Help me with these, Stephanie, will you?" Hakim asked.
Stephanie helped Hakim to pull the tarpaulins off the first object. The girl paused to stare at what was revealed. The matte grey 2013 Mercedes-Benz G63 AMG 6x6 truck was enormous.
"Fucking awesome!" Stephanie announced as she helped Hakim to pull the tarpaulins off the next object to reveal an almost identical G63 in matte black. "What's under this lot?" Stephanie asked as she set to work on the next tarpaulin-covered item.
"Cool!" a voice announced as a pair of Toyota Landcruiser 4x4s appeared and Stephanie turned to see Megan and Curtis coming into view from the direction of the bus. "Do those have air conditioning?"
"Yes, they do," Hakim responded.
"Awesome!" Megan exclaimed as she watched Stephanie and Hakim pulling off the final tarpaulins to reveal a total of four Toyota Landcruiser 4x4s, all of which were painted a faded white with specks of rust visible on the bodywork.
"They used to belong to the United Nations during the troubles," Hakim explained. "They have all been well-maintained since then, but the sand has hurt the metalwork some. All six vehicles are in otherwise perfect condition and fully gassed up."
"Cool," Curtis said. "Who are you?"
"I am Hakim Aziz."
"He knew Mindy before she went wrong," Stephanie replied.
"Stephanie, I did not..."
"You kinda did," Dave commented with a chuckle.
Mindy scowled.
Eighty-one Kilometres
Northwest of Bourem
13:00 GMT+2 (11:00 GMT June 23rd)
Strike Teams
The ride was much better in vehicles designed for off-road driving, not to mention the ice-cold air which flooded the interiors.
The convoy of six vehicles had left Bourem three hours earlier. Mindy led the convoy driving one of the Landcruiser 4x4s. With Mindy were Joshua, Curtis, Megan, and Craig. Behind her followed Mathilda driving the next Landcruiser with Charlotte, Yvette, and Electra. Next came the two Mercedes G63 6x6s. The first was driven by Patrick with Dakota, Jamie, Abigail, and Saoirse. The second was driven by Dave with Abby, Tommy, Stephanie, and Ruth as his passengers. The two Mercs carried many gallons of diesel with them for the vehicles as well as gallons of fresh water. The remaining pair of Toyota Landcruiser 4x4s were driven by Chloe and Marinette. Chloe was accompanied by Cassie, Jake. Olivia, and Scarlett while Marinette was accompanied by Lucy, Amber, Eva, and Owen. They had followed an old trail into the open desert of central Mali, seeking a point where they could be assured of absolute privacy. As the convoy pulled up on the barren sand, seemingly in the middle of nowhere, Megan gave Mindy a questioning look.
"Why are we stopping?" she asked. "There's nothing for bloody miles!"
"I'm waiting for the mailman," Mindy responded.
"You must have bloody heatstroke," Megan shot back, thinking that her big sister had finally gone bonkers.
"Mindy may be nutty as squirrel pooh," Joshua said, "but she usually speaks sense."
Megan laughed.
Eighty-one Kilometres away
and a few hours earlier...
Bourem
Willow & Freya
While most were quite happy with the much more modern transportation, not to mention the air conditioning, Willow however, was not amused by her transport allocation.
Mindy had dragged the two girls, Willow and Freya, northeast in one of the Landcruiser 4x4s to another compound just outside Bourem where Willow was surprised to see a helicopter sitting out in the open.
"Well, what do you think, Willow?" Mindy asked excitedly.
The twin-engine, ten-seat helicopter was a glossy dark blue overall and sat on twin black skids. The machine appeared dated and that was confirmed when Willow picked up the logbook.
"What? 1976! This thing is older than me – by a very wide margin," the young pilot commented as she looked over the Bell 212 helicopter.
"Can you fly it?"
Willow scowled.
"Okay!" Mindy chuckled as she handed Willow a cardboard folder then walked away and climbed back into the Landcruiser.
As Mindy drove off, Willow exchanged a glance with her fellow Kestrel. Freya grimaced as she too examined their new flying machine. The fourteen-year-old had barely started her flying training before the program had been dropped, but she had done enough to gain several hours in the air and enough to show that she was serious at becoming a pilot. The girl had leapt at the opportunity to fly again when Mindy had brought up the opportunity. Willow had acquiesced, knowing that she had little choice, but she also knew that she needed to train up a co-pilot. Even though Freya had little to no experience with helicopters, her flying skills were exemplary as shown by the relevant section of her Urban Predator file which Mindy had produced for Willow to read. Willow had never seen such a file before, and she was more than a little surprised to see that Mindy had access to them. Willow had asked if her file was available and Mindy had simply grinned.
"I hunk of junk, but I think it'll fly," Freya said as she emerged from underneath the fuselage. "Gauges say its full of fuel and the batteries look good."
"Thanks, Freya – let's see if we can crank the turbines," Willow said as she pulled herself into the right-hand seat and began to flick switches.
Freya followed suit, climbing into the left-hand seat where she began to run through a checklist.
Eighty-one Kilometres
Northwest of Bourem
13:05 GMT+2 (11:05 GMT June 23rd)
Strike Teams
The six vehicles were parked up in the shadows thrown by an array of sandstone cliffs.
Two hundred yards away, Dakota and Owen were standing on a stretch of straight flat sand extending over three miles. A thousand years before, the flat area had once been a lake, the waters of which had long ago evaporated into the atmosphere. Dakota carried a handheld radio in her left hand and a smoke grenade in her right while Owen held a smoke grenade in each hand.
"Toss 'em," came a terse command over the radio.
Dakota and Owen yanked the pins from their grenades, and they tossed all three a few yards away. The three smoke grenades clattered to the hard sand before hissing and spitting. Copious amounts of purple, green, and yellow smoke erupted out into the air and expanded to produce an enormous cloud. Dakota and Owen sprinted out of the way before they were both engulfed by the rapidly expanding cloud of multi-coloured smoke. The pair ignored the laughter from everyone else as they sprinted out of harm's way. Almost a full minute later, the dull drown of a multi-engine aircraft could be heard approaching.
The civilian version of the stretched Hercules C-130, the L-100-30, was painted a pale brown which blended nicely with the sand from above. The transport aircraft descended rapidly, pulling up just a few hundred feet off the dry lakebed before descending even further. The transport aircraft flew very low and as it flew along at about twelve feet above the flat sands, several pallets were jettisoned out of the back end in what was known as a low-altitude parachute-extraction system (LAPES) drop. Each pallet flew horizontal for a moment, a trio of large dark green parachutes blossoming from the back, before dropping onto the dry lakebed in a cloud of sandy dust, as the parachutes retarded their forward speed.
Once the fourth pallet had been ejected, the empty transport aircraft pulled its nose up and increased altitude rapidly before turning away from the area and continuing on its original flight plan.
..._...
Once the four pallets had skidded to a halt on the sand, and the billowing parachutes had settled on the ground, everyone rushed forward to unstrap the loads which were attached to each aluminium pallet by a multitude of webbed straps.
Each pallet held an identical vehicle, each of which sat on stacks of lumber as a shock absorption aid. The vehicles were the General Dynamics Flyer 60 Light Strike Vehicle (LSV), each of which could carry four combat-equipped soldiers in a 2+2 arrangement. The 180-inch long vehicle was just 73-inches wide which included the four giant bulbous tyres and the externally mounted side cargo boxes, one of which was mounted on each side door. A push bar with winch was fitted to the front of each vehicle and a pintle-mounted M240 machine gun was fitted on a mount fitted to the A pillar on the right-hand side for the front passenger to operate. Mounted atop each vehicle, a single M2 Browning .50-calibre machine gun was fitted to a turret with a full 360-degree traverse. The entire vehicle weighed in at a little over three tonnes fully laden and could hurtle across rough terrain at seventy miles-per-hour.
"Mindy, these look fucking awesome!" Jake exclaimed as he released a strap.
"Fresh from Gotham," Dave announced. "Armoured and fitted with all-terrain four-wheel-drive, the diesel engine producing 195-horsepower through a 6-speed automatic transmission. The armoured cargo boxes attached to each door each hold a twenty-litre jerry can filled with diesel and a pair of 500-round M13 belt 7.62mm ammo pouches for the M240 machine guns carried onboard or 100-round M2 belt .50-calibre ammo boxes. Each vehicle mounts an M2 Browning and there are about 1,200 rounds carried for each weapon."
"I am impressed!" Cassie admitted.
"Believe me when I say Mindy was having a crisis when she read about these things," Stephanie grinned.
"Thank you, Stephanie!" Mindy growled as she unhooked the final strap from the first vehicle.
With that, Mindy climbed aboard, and she started the two-litre diesel engine, driving the vehicle off the aluminium 463L Master Pallet. Swiftly, the other three vehicles were also driven off their pallets and then the four pallets were stacked, one atop the other with the lumber, before the stack was secured together with the cargo straps remaining from the vehicles. A four-point strap which had been provided with one of the pallets was attached to the pallet system and left in place. Next, everyone began to shift kit amongst the ten vehicles before the teams separated to board their vehicles for the next leg of their trip. Chloe, Lucy, Mindy, and Joshua drove the LSVs while Cassie and Abby took over the two Landcruiser 4x4s vacated by Mindy and Chloe.
The enlarged convoy soon headed northwest, deeper into the desert.
Airborne in
Victor One Zero
14:45 GMT+2 (12:45 GMT June 23rd)
Willow & Freya
The forty-one-year-old helicopter flew over the desert at two-thousand feet.
Willow was still familiarising herself with the ancient flying machine's quirks but otherwise she was happy. Despite the age of the helicopter, Willow was simply happy to be back in the air – it was where she felt happiest. Freya had taken control once on their two-hour flight and she had done well during forty minutes of flying. The sky was clear, and it was perfect flying weather. Both girls wore a flying helmet each with the visors down to protect their eyes from the dazzling sunlight.
"There, eleven o'clock low!" Freya called out.
Willow looked over to port, tipping the helicopter over to get a better view, and she smiled as she identified the ten vehicles racing across the sand below. Looking up, Willow could see their target, many kilometres ahead. She and Freya would arrive first with their underslung load of supplies – food, fuel, water, and ammunition. On arrival, they would confirm that the facility was empty and secure it. She knew that the Strike Teams would be worn out upon their arrival.
"Okay, Freya, keep your eyes open for trouble," Willow cautioned.
Freya pushed up her darkened visor and she raised a set of powerful binoculars to her eyes as she studied the endless sand which stretched out to the horizon in every direction.
..._...
Twenty minutes later, Willow circled their landing zone.
The long-discarded fort had originally been built for the French Foreign Legion in the early twentieth century. The main fort was a rectangle about twenty metres by fifteen metres with a double wooden gate set into the long side facing to the south. The walls were sandstone, three feet thick and thirty feet from the desert sand to the crenelated top. A seventy-foot-tall square watchtower rose above the fort in the southwest corner. Shorter towers stood at either southern corner, extending out to protect the main gate. The remaining towers on the northside were crenelated but remained at the same height as the walls. Inside the walls, accommodation and stores were built up against the walls, leaving an open area in the centre of the fort which was traditionally used as a parade ground. At some stage in the 1940s, an outer wall was built surrounding the fort, twenty yards away from the main walls to the north, east. and west, while to the south, the walls extended a good fifty yards. The outer walls were crumbling and had been built to a height of only eight feet with many gaps as the sandstone blocks had been harvested for other uses over the years.
As Willow dropped down, facing the main gates, she lowered her underslung load gently to the sand, just a few yards from the towering defensive walls and inside the crumbling outer walls. On a signal from Freya who was leaning out her open door, Willow triggered the hook release and the straps of the load fell away, freeing the helicopter and Willow then translated backwards and to the left under guidance from Freya before dropping the helicopter onto its skids. Once the turbines were shut down, Willow and Freya discarded their flight helmets and they each un-stowed an MP7A2 PDW from behind their seats. Together, the pair spread out, eight feet apart, and they headed for the double wooden gates, both of which were partially open. Tuaregs were known to make use of abandoned forts during sandstorms but otherwise, the forts were left empty and abandoned.
Shoving open the two gates, Willow and Freya expertly checked out the parade ground which was clear bar some rubbish and half a dozen discarded fuel drums. They started on the left, clearing each building as they went. They cleared the sergeant's quarters, the corporal's quarters, then the prison cells and the magazine. The barracks and officer's quarters came next, then finally the store and the watchtower.
"Fusion Six, this is Victor One Zero. Desert Base is secure. Out."
Freya looked out over the sand from her position atop the watchtower.
"Nice view," she commented.
"Not bad," Willow conceded. "I'm going to get our gear form the 'copter – you take the first watch; we'll take the former sergeant's quarters in the base of this watchtower."
"Yes, ma'am!" Freya grinned as she took a few sips of water from a plastic bottle.
Down below, at ground level, she watched as Willow emerged from the base of the tower before leaving the fort and making for the helicopter, her long hair waving in the breeze which blew across the sand.
Three hours later...
Four hundred kilometres
Northwest of Kidal,
Tombouctou, Mali
17:35 GMT+2 (15:35 GMT June 23rd)
Strike Teams
Mindy stomped on the brake pedal of her LSV and the enormous bulbous tyres skidded on the loose sand as the brakes brought the vehicle to a halt.
The veteran vigilante stepped out of the LSV, a pair of binoculars to her eyes. Ahead of her, just four hundred yards away, the old French Foreign Legion fort sat in the desert sand. The air shimmered making the fort come and go as the hot air rose from the hot sand and met the cooler air above. It was one of the features of the fort which made it so good as a defensive position – attackers often could not find it. Modern technology allowed mirages to be ignored, but it was still both fascinating and disconcerting to see such a structure shimmer in the heat haze and then vanish for a few seconds before reappearing again. Then came the all-important purple flash to back up the earlier radio call – the fort remained in friendly hands.
Mindy jumped back into the LSV and she stomped her foot on the accelerator, the bulbous tyres digging into the sand and sending up rooster tails as the vehicle accelerated forwards.
A few minutes later...
17:42 GMT+2 (15:42 GMT June 23rd)
Desert Base
Mindy drove past the helicopter which had been loosely covered by desert camouflage scrim netting which in turn had been pegged down tightly.
Just beyond the helicopter was a similarly covered pallet of equipment. Mindy smiled at Freya who was standing at the gate, her PDW held ready. The girl gave Mindy a cursory glance before returning to studying the area beyond the ten vehicles as they passed inside the fort. Mindy drove inside, pulling up outside the two-storey barracks. Beside her, Chloe pulled up in her LSV with Joshua pulling up alongside Chloe and Lucy pulling up past Mindy outside the magazine. The gigantic Mercedes G63 6x6 trucks moved right to the very back of the fort, pulling up with their reinforced front bumpers just a foot from the back wall of the fort. The Landcruiser 4x4s then filled in the gaps and everybody scrambled out into the bright sunlight.
"Okay," Mindy called out to the assembled throng. "Welcome to Desert Base. We will camp here, tonight, then lay up during the day to rest and gear up before moving out tomorrow evening for a reconnaissance of our target and possibly an infiltration. For now, we need to unload that pallet outside the gates before we secure for the night and post guards."
With that, Lucy, Cassie, and Chloe began to supervise the unloading of the pallet, issuing jobs to the other Fusion/Vengeance/Honneur members. It took a little over an hour to unload all the supplies and everyone was very exhausted by the time the pallet had been emptied, the vehicles had been covered up, and the eight-inch-thick wooden doors had been pushed closed and a hefty balk of wood which took six of them to lift was dropped into place, effectively locking the gates. However, they were very relieved to find that Joshua and Marinette had cooked a hot dinner for everyone. Eight volunteers were then posted on guard duty around the top of the crenelated walls and equipped with NVGs and automatic weapons. Joshua and Patrick vanished for an hour, installing trip lines around the fort to alert them of anybody attempting to infiltrate the fort during the hours of darkness. No extraneous lights were allowed as they could be seen for miles and all windows in the barracks were covered over on the inside to prevent any light from escaping. The accommodation was very basic and once tidied up, everyone had a camp bed to sleep on instead of the stone flooring installed within the buildings. Mindy could not sleep, so she climbed up stone steps to the top of the watchtower where she found Yvette on watch. The young French girl was dutifully scanning the horizon while keeping her head low to avoid silhouetting herself against the sky behind which was still light.
"You okay, Yvette?"
"Oui."
"Stephanie will relieve you at midnight."
"I look forward to it," the girl grinned.
Mindy chuckled as she checked the horizon one final time before she dropped back down to the bottom of the watchtower.