D-Boys by Fuchs Michael Stephen

Author:Fuchs, Michael Stephen [Fuchs, Michael Stephen]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: SOF, high-tech weapons, video games, Delta Force, 1st SFOD-D, counter-terrorism, action, military, CAG, war, technothriller
Publisher: Complete & Total Asskicking Books
Published: 2011-12-13T04:30:00+00:00

TARGET HOUSE, KOH-I DALMACH

BALUCHISTAN, WESTERN PAKISTAN

04:07:55 PKT 10 APR

Though Mike is not there to see it, the takedown of the medina safe house looks nearly precisely like the demonstration takedown he saw in the Shooting House at the Delta compound. That is, it doesn’t look like anything – nothing that anyone, other than those conducting it, would have even a fraction of the time or attention to see or to understand.

The signal to begin is the explosion on the roof. With that, the three oblivious occupants of the ground floor of the house snap their heads irresistibly toward the ceiling, or toward the stairwell in the back corner. And it is in the air over their heads, right in their faces, that the flashbang grenade goes off.

Now they are blind and deaf, and none of them ever saw or heard the front door blast inward.

Now each takes four to six shots in the upper body, in the center of mass, with solid rubber bullets fired from submachine guns. They experience this only as a convulsion of inexplicable, primal pain – and a complete, if temporary, loss of the ability to breathe.

Now they are knocked to the floor with forearm smashes, or pulled down with crooks of elbows around their throats, and steel boot toes in the backs of their knees.

Now they are face-down and tied hands and feet with plastic flexi-cuffs, heavy electrical tape encircling their heads at mouth level.

And that is it.

Javier, the last in, pulls the door shut as Mac slithers inside.

Tim radios “Bravo clear,” sticks his head and gun barrel down the stairwell to check things out, then goes back up to hold the upstairs. He’s had nothing really to do but blow the shape charge, fall through the hole, and have a quick look around.

“Alpha clear,” Rheinhardt says aloud. “Target secure.”

Then, pausing from his designated corner of the room, peeking out through one of the curtained windows, he cycles the channel on his throat mic.

* * *

“Roger,” the voice, Sergeant Rheinhardt’s, says. “Hold there.”

Mike releases the mic control and exhales.

He hears the shape charge go on the roof, with a muted whump.

Then he hears the flashbang go, with a sharper crack.

Sergeant Rheinhardt’s voice speaks again in his ear: “Wiley – bring it in.”

And Mike freezes, questioning his perception of what he’s heard. There was almost no perceptible delay between the two transmissions. Could they have taken the whole house down in a single second? Then he flashes back to the Shooting House, remembering the supernatural speed of it. And he takes off into the darkness at a jog.

The front door swings half open for him. And now, safely inside, it is his turn to “man up” – and to get the job done.

* * *

“This is Bettie to Bo Peep with the neighborhood watch report: all quiet.”

“Copy that.”

Aaliyah puts her eye back to her sight – or, rather, her sights. As she explained to Mike, the primary day sight on her CheyTac sniper rifle is a 22x56mm variable magnification telescopic sight.

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