Cogar's Crusade (Cogar Adventure Series Book 3) by Nate Granzow

Author:Nate Granzow [Granzow, Nate]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-07-12T16:00:00+00:00

13

Sameera

Al Assad Lake

Driving faster didn't mean I was any safer, but it made me feel a little better. I rumbled along the narrow streets, jostled as the Kettenkrad's front tire dipped into potholes and the dual tracks thrust me forward over stones and fallen concrete barriers. The buildings began to thin out, and I could finally see the security outpost in the distance, a speck on the shore of Al Assad Lake.

The encampment was fully equipped with an observation tower and machine gun nests, the shielded barrels of rolling anti-tank guns stuffed between gaps in the concrete blocks. Certain suicide if I were to approach on the halftrack. I pulled in the clutch and downshifted to neutral, letting the Kettenkrad coast down a small rise before abandoning it and approaching on foot. Crouched low behind a string of concrete road barriers, I contemplated how best to save Kailas. I drew the Glock from my belt, tugged back the slide until I spotted the glimmer of brass inside, and peeked over the top of the barrier.

I needed a uniform to covertly enter the area and, ideally, get close enough to rescue Kailas. The guards weren't going to give theirs up willingly. If I'd been back with my FSA contingent, I could have picked one out in my exact size from a pile they'd taken from regime soldiers over the years. But today I was on my own. Not that it would have mattered; it was a weak plan. It was one thing to pass for a rebel; after all, they didn't care if your story was bizarre—theirs probably was too. But Assad's regime was run like a legitimate army, and they weren't likely to fall for my playground-level antics.

Eyeing the razor-wire-ringed installation, I picked out the machine gun nests, looking for any area where they may have neglected to set up overlapping fields of fire. It was ironclad. No doubt the entire area had been sown with landmines, too.

Cursing, I returned to the Kettenkrad and began digging through the storage compartments looking for something that would jar a brilliant thought or strategy. I was rewarded with only a few nude pictures of an overweight, hirsute Syrian woman stuffed inside an ammo can alongside a few extra magazines for the rifle I'd taken from the bike's original rider.

That was the ticket.

Jamming the loaded magazines between the Kettenkrad's exhaust manifold and engine block, I started the engine and smashed the vehicle's Bakelite throttle housing. Pulling the loose throttle cable until the motor was revving loudly, I tied the cable around the handlebars, and standing to the bike's side, let go of the clutch. The Kettenkrad lurched forward, bearing straight down the road leading to the regime outpost. I didn't waste time watching it approach.

Racing perpendicular to the vehicle's path, I skirted around the outpost. As long as the machine gun nest covering my approach turned to fire on the Kettenkrad, I'd be free to close the distance, and ideally, rescue Kailas. If they didn't take the bait, I was pretty sure I'd know about it straightaway.

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