Afghanistan Payback: An Adventure Series (Cody's War Book 9) by Stephen Mertz

Author:Stephen Mertz [Mertz, Stephen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781685490775
Publisher: Rough Edges Press
Published: 2022-05-24T16:00:00+00:00

27

From his current position, the Americans were in a stockade-like structure a quarter of a mile away, due south. Cody sprinted in a low crouch across the lit distance separating him from the first row of tanks. He flashed across, being in the light for barely five seconds. But as anyone who has ever done special ops knows, five seconds is not the flicker civilians see but rather a small eternity. Five seconds was more than ample time for even the laziest watch tower detail to catch a glimpse of him. But as he crouched in the shelter of the nearest tank, he counted, waiting. Ten. Twenty. Fifty. One hundred. No hue and cry.

Nothing. He rose from his haunches and examined the nearest tank. The low chassis, elongated main gun and squat turret was of no American design. A quick once-over told him everything he needed to know.

This one’s an old Soviet T-54, he thought with wonder. No telling how old it was. That Massoud had rounded up Russian as well as American hardware for his little auction suggested he was approaching it as a fire sale. Still – whether Russian or American, this tank seemed as good a place as any to start.

Working quickly, he searched through his pack for the first square of C-4. Wrapped in wax paper, it had the feel and heft of a quarter stick of butter. Cody removed it, unwrapped the paper and crouched beside the T-54. Reaching up under the tread well, he pressed the gooey plastique to the underside of the tank chassis. Then he produced a remote detonator that was about the same size as a roll of Lifesavers. He pushed on one end, activating the blinking red light of the receiver he would trigger from his phone. Then, leaning in, he pressed the detonator into the plastique and got moving.

The noses of the tanks stretched ahead into the light. But the space behind them was shadowed, and so Cody sprinted along past a series of T-54 tail fins. He guessed he passed about twenty when the tank profile changed to armored car.

Panhards, Cody recognized. Massoud’s base was turning out to be a veritable museum. He’s rounded up every damn bit of hardware he can get his hands on. It must have required a staggering level of planning and coordination. These French armored tanks were 1970 models at best. But like so much left in the arid Afghan sun, they had been well preserved and obviously kept in good repair. Cody imagined that some of the most widely experienced military mechanics in the world must live in the region. Who else could keep all this in top repair?

After the Panhards came a row of Abrams and Cody stopped again. This time he climbed up top and pressed two sticks of plastique to the underside of one’s turret, ensuring the resulting detonation would blow the gun emplacement sky-high. He would make sure these blasts would provide a memorable fireworks exhibition.

In the spirit of 1776.

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