Commander Nicolaou’s team was bolstered in number by the new recruits—Peter, Ethan, Gary, Todd, and Hamaad. Whether they could fight or not was another question. Having sent the surviving SLM soldiers out with his own wounded, Jim asked Hamaad to stay with his team. He believed Hamaad could prove useful as an interpreter if they encountered any local residents.
They made good time considering how exhausted some of the men were. An hour before sunrise, they arrived at the coordinates where the satellite photos had indicated the compound was located. The night started out very dark, but a nearly full moon had risen early in the evening and was still hanging low above the horizon at dawn. The air was blessedly cool for the long march, but everyone knew that once the sun rose it would quickly become unbearably hot.
Right now, the first priority was to establish shelter from the merciless sun while remaining out of sight of anyone who might inhabit the compound.
Jim deployed his men on the reverse side of a rocky ridge overlooking the collection of buildings, which lay on a desolate plain below them. The remnants of a dry riverbed wound between the base of the ridge and the structures. A smattering of bushes dotted the riverbed suggesting that water was still to be found beneath the swirled sand and gravel.
The ridge ran roughly from the southeast to the northwest, with the compound about 2,000 yards to the west of the ridge where Jim had chosen to make camp. A collection of shallow caves—really not much more than overhanging rock—provided shelter on the eastern slope of the rocky ridge near the top.
Of course, there would be no campfires and no lights of any type other than as absolutely necessary. It was vitally important to the mission that their location not be detected. By climbing 30 yards to the ridge crest, the SGIT soldiers would observe the target buildings using light amplification scopes at night and standard spotting scopes during daylight.
“All right men, listen up,” Jim said.
“I want everyone to get something to eat and plenty of water. I want you hydrated. The civilians need to get some sleep… you are all on the ragged edge of exhaustion.”
“You’re telling me. I’d swear I was sleep walking the last three miles,” Gary complained.
“Ghost and I will take first watch. We’re Team Alpha. Two hours on, four hours off. I want that compound under constant surveillance. Magnum and Bull, you are Team Bravo; you will relieve Team Alpha. Coyote and Homer, you are Team Charlie; you will relieve Team Bravo. Questions?”
Jim knew his team exceptionally well. Although he always asked if there were questions, he knew there would rarely be any. His men were sharp, motivated, dedicated, and knew the drill.
“Okay then. Remove your communication gear and stow it. Any time you are within ten yards of that ridge…” Jim pointed to the top of the rock ridge from which they would observe the compound, “…no one says a word. Standard hand signals only.”
Each member of the team was equipped with an ear bud and throat microphone connected to a secure, encrypted net that allowed every member of the team to communicate during missions. The head set was voice activated and did not require a free hand to operate. Even though the system was engineered for short-range communication, it did operate on standard but randomly changing radio frequencies. This made it difficult, but not impossible, to detect.
Colonel Ming had escaped surveillance for the better part of two decades, so he was crafty and smart, and although Commander Nicolaou could not be absolutely certain Ming was at this remote base, he wasn’t going to take any chances.
Next, Jim addressed the civilians, who were completely new to military operations. “I know you men like to hunt, and you want to exercise many of the same practices here. If you smoke… don’t. If you need to relieve yourself… do it quietly. Don’t drop anything… don’t talk. Clear?”
Ghost and Commander Nicolaou made their way to the top of the ridge just as the sun was beginning to cast a faint glow on the eastern horizon. Just shy of the crest the two men dropped to their bellies and slowly crawled the remaining distance, exercising care to remain very low and to move slowly and with fluid grace, avoiding fast or jerky motions that could possibly be seen even from a great distance.
Since the dawn sky was approaching, and with it a ribbon of purple-red glow low on the horizon, Jim and Ghost each set up a standard optical spotting scope. Its light gathering capabilities and superb optical magnification allowed them to see detail even in the dim morning light. First, they could make out the two towers, triangular in shape. Each tower stood taller than any other buildings in the complex. Jim estimated the roof of each tower was maybe 40 feet above the ground.
The top of the towers were completely enclosed, with recessed shutters over what might normally have been windows. Any ladder or staircase for ascending the towers were not visible, and Jim assumed they were enclosed within the core of the structures.
The main buildings—four of them—appeared to be conventional one-story buildings with flat roofs. Each structure was a simple rectangle about four times longer than its width, all about the same size, and all lined up parallel with the others. They appeared to be constructed of concrete or maybe cement block; Jim could not be certain from their viewing distance. One of the main buildings had two vertical columns projecting upward, not quite as tall as the towers but close. Although Jim wasn’t sure what they were, he thought they resembled smoke stacks or chimneys.
Jim and Ghost noticed that there were no visible lights anywhere at the compound. But they did take note of three generators and two large fuel tanks. Each machine was about the size of a one megawatt generator. Only one of the machines was operating. The size and number of generators caused Jim to wonder what was inside the compound that required so much electrical power.
For all practical purposes the collection of buildings appeared to be deserted. No trucks or cars were parked outside the buildings and not a single person was visible.
As the sun rose daylight spilled across the land, a wire fence surrounding the compound was revealed by the glint of sunlight reflecting off the coiled razor wire stretched along the top of the high fence. It delineated a boundary that was set about 1,000 yards out from the compound’s four buildings. Much closer in, a second fence surrounded an area about the size of a football field adjoining two of the four buildings. Jim surmised this fence was electrified since there was a red light projecting from a pole above the fence.
A single dirt road approached the front of the buildings, and a simple guard shack and gate marked the entry into the facility.
Outside the razor wire fencing a lone vehicle, looking something like a dune buggy, slowly patrolled the perimeter. Jim counted three two-man foot patrols operating a seemingly random pattern. This was the first evidence they’d seen that the complex was inhabited.
Jim and Ghost continued their surveillance in complete silence, each man mentally cataloging the images and details below. Later, in camp, they would share notes and record their observations while the next team continued the surveillance.
Suddenly there was a faint rustle of earth behind Jim. He turned and was face to face with Bull. He nodded as if to say “good morning.”
As his call sign implied, Bull was a beast of a man, so named in recognition of his bulk and strength. Like Coyote, Jim had recruited Bull from the Marine Corps, force recon, which was remarkable because nearly all of the SGIT team had been recruited from the Navy SEALs. A California State Champion wrestler in high school, Bull had turned down a full ride to Notre Dame, preferring to follow his family tradition and earn the moniker of Devil Dog, like his father and uncle before him. In the Corps, he regularly lifted weights in addition to the usual regimen of physical exercise. In training, no one had wanted to spar with Bull because they were always soundly beaten.
The largest and strongest man in the SGIT team, Bull was also considered the most gentle. He was their trusted corpsman, braving bullets and RPGs to render immediate medical aid to his wounded comrades—he had patched up most of the team at least once.
As the hand off was being made, Bull noticed a faint odor. It was peculiar and seemed out of place in the arid landscape. He touched his nose with his right index finger while looking directly at Boss Man. Jim nodded and turned back toward the compound. A faint wisp of grey smoke was drifting up from the left chimney.
Bull and Magnum took up their viewing positions and settled in as Jim and Ghost slowly crawled back from the ridge and down the eastern slope. Once they were certain their bodies were blocked from view, they stood and silently walked the final 20 yards to the camp.
Ghost spoke first. “Did you smell that, sir?”
Jim nodded. “Yes, just as we were leaving. Bull caught it, too.”
“Kind of reminds me of a barbeque, but not a very good one. You know, like the chicken was burned.”
“It was burned alright. But that’s no barbeque.”