A few hundred feet from where Lester and Debi had been told to stay in the food court, Monte and Simone fell in behind five grizzled Navy SEALs. Actually, they were abreast of the last two men who were trying to shield them from shots coming from the rear. Dean Sharp was a Lieutenant Commander who had earned his rank in the field and was leading this battle-hardened fire team. Wounded in both Iraq and Afghanistan, he was the real deal. Even though he had been briefed that the two civilians with his group were battle-tested more than once, he knew they hadn’t received the proper training for the type of combat they were about to undertake. He did need more men, however, so he would use these non-military types judiciously. One thing he knew was they were fearless and would follow orders.
“When we start clearing buildings, you two watch what the men do for covering fire, and you fall in line—take positions for cover—then advance—then cover. Over and over again. Advance—gun pointed to protect—move in—stop, aim, and protect—next man moves up,” Commander Sharp said as they neared the rear of a large maintenance shed.
A bullet struck at the corner of the shed exactly where Simone had stood not two seconds before. “Fucking snipers still active,” Dean said. “Somebody needs to take them out before all the patrols head out across the yard.”
The shed was much like an oil change facility with a rack to lift vehicles and a pit below it, so the undercarriages can be examined. Small electric train locomotives, called mules, were being serviced there. Usually, as many as eight mules are used to stabilize a ship from hitting the sides of the canal walls or crashing into the gates. There was only one mule in the shop, along with two pickup trucks, and a tractor with a grass mower attached. There were stairs leading to upper areas and two doors with glass panes. As soon as the SEAL team turned to enter the lower area, automatic gunfire erupted from the upper platform. Rounds hit all around them as they took shelter behind the electric mule.
“Johnson, Valdez, and Monte, give us some supporting fire. Simone, cover us from the rear; the rest of you pipe hitters pour it on now,” Dean said, stepping out and firing in the direction of where the shots had come from only seconds earlier.
As soon as the three giving support fire stepped out, a barrage of bullets hit all around them. Rounds struck Monte’s and Valdez’s vests, knocking them to the ground. Johnson sprayed the shooter with M-4 rounds, killing him as one popped his head open. Dean’s men were now headed up the metal stairway towards the office. Monte, Valdez, and Johnson stood out and gave covering fire into the door at the head of the stairs.
Simone now watched all the downstairs area, as the rest were working their way to the two doorways on the upper balcony walkway. She thought she heard a noise near the tractor, then saw a man rise behind the big mowing machine. He began to bring a weapon up from his side. She didn’t hesitate and poured two bursts from her MAC-10 into the upper torso of the man. He fell in a lifeless lump over the top of the mower, as she heard the clanking of his AK-47 hitting the concrete floor.
Dean threw her a quick salute as he moved to kick in the first door. He and two of his men blew through the doorway and opened up with full automatic weapons. There were two armed men there, but they didn’t stand a chance against the SEALs. The militants nicked a couple of Dean’s men, but the wounds were superficial and would be patched up later.
Now it was time for Monte, Valdez, and Johnson to clear a room. Johnson was a huge man from Louisiana, so large that he had played football at LSU as a defensive end. He attacked the door with his size thirteen boot and went in with his two fighters firing at all areas of the room with their M4 and Monte’s MAC-10. At first it seemed no one was there.
Suddenly, two dark figures rose above a thick wooden desk and began firing with AKs at a close distance. Johnson and Valdez dropped to the floor and took cover behind a metal file cabinet. Monte found a support pillar that went upwards to the ceiling and was wide enough for him to press his body against. He could feel the vibrations of the rounds hitting the steel support and was glad they weren’t slamming into his body. The shot he had taken in his vest earlier may have broken some ribs. He would worry about that later. As soon as he heard the clicks of empty weapons, Monte slid out from his post, waited as they jammed in fresh magazines, and then rose to fire. His timing was perfect, as he riddled both their heads with .45 APC slugs.
They all went back to the lower area where wounds were patched, and their next objective was discussed. Dean called Rick and gave him an update. He particularly wanted him to know about an active sniper.
“Sniper?” Rick said. “We’ve heard from the other men that one’s still active. Any idea where the shot came from? Where were you when the round came in?”
Dean explained that it seemed to come from the tree line in front of the building. Rick said he would get on it. As soon as Dean had clicked off his com mic, he saw two Black Hawk helicopters heading for the tree line. Explosions could be heard along with the whine of the Gatling guns.
What the helicopter couldn’t see was a man on a cell phone tower south of the tree line. He was so well-camouflaged, it was impossible to see him. The man had a big poster of the metal struts in front of him duplicating the structure, background, a blue sky, and covering him completely. He was basically invisible until he leaned out for a shot. His weapon was a US M21 rifle with a big scope. The gun used a 7.62 NATO cartridge, which had been picking out targets at a thousand yards, but very close to the far end of its effective range. He had barely missed Simone as she moved into the maintenance shed. At night, the infrared scope would find him, but most likely he knew that and would be down by then.
*****
Lance and Holton had instant battlefield information. They had seen the team that had gone into the shed, and they watched as the Javelin took out the machine gun in the administration building. They didn’t know which teams their friends were fighting in at first, but as they watched closely, they could see three teams with one woman in each. Where security cameras were close by, they could make out the faces. Satellite images gave broad overhead views of the entire battle ground. They knew exactly where all the people from the cruise ship were positioned. The supercomputer could tell the type of weapon by rate of fire, velocity of the bullets, type of the rounds, and the measurements of the weapons they held. All this information came from security cameras, drones, satellite images, and helicopter camera footage. The big gorilla was tapped into everything available. As they were pointing out possible enemy positions to Rick, their phone rang. It identified the call as from Lester.
“Boys, enjoying yourselves in that air-conditioned room while we’re getting shot at?”
“Oh, Lester, my dear—so wish I could be there—gun in hand, but someone has to tell you where the bad guys are hiding,” Lance said.
“Well, the very reason I called you. Got a sniper somewhere beyond the tree line directly in front of the visitors center. Blackhawks just turned most of that area into a post-apocalyptic wasteland. Can you find him?”
“Hold on, and we’ll search for anomalies,” Holton said. “Big ass cell phone tower, but it looks empty. Perfect spot, however.”
“Holton, if you were going to hide in plain sight on a tower with metal braces, what would you do?” Lester asked.
“Well, sweetie, I’m afraid of heights, so I wouldn’t go there. But if I could duplicate the braces with a picture of the braces—shit! There he is! Lester, about halfway up, a guy is hiding behind a picture, poster, or whatever. It’s goddamn clever what he’s done. Tell Rick—you guys take him out. I’ll watch from my air-conditioned room. Good luck!” said Holton.
“Debi, Holton, just called me ‘sweetie,’” Lester said, laughing.
“I think he has the hots for you—can’t blame him,” Debi said, smiling ear to ear.
Lester quickly turned his attention to his squad leader.
“Tank, there’s a sniper in a cell phone tower about halfway up. He has a poster of the struts hiding him,” Lester explained.
“Buck, ease around the side of the building and see if you can get a shot at that bastard. Lester, can you spot for him—take my scope,” Tank said, and ordered the rest of the team to watch for movement from the locks control building since Lester and Buck were exposed from the rear. As they set up to search for the sniper, rounds began to come in from two of the windows across the canal. Tank asked for coving fire from his group. All the openings in the big building across the canal were peppered with rounds. It slowed the rate of fire but didn’t stop it.
Chunks of stucco were raining down on the two men sent to kill the sniper in the cell tower. Just as Lester spotted the sniper in the powerful scope, a round hit his vest and two rounds blasted Buck’s, all in the upper right shoulder area. The rounds didn’t penetrate but knocked them to the ground and would result in serious bruising. They hit the ground, moaning and trying to breathe as the air had been pushed out of their lungs. They were in too much pain to hear the first Javelin take off towards the window where the shots emanated. They were getting back on their feet when the second Javelin rocketed towards the building. The explosions rattled the windows behind Tank’s team as he assured his sniper team that they would not be molested again.
Buck put two .50 caliber rounds dead center of the strut poster. The sniper fell a few feet below his camouflage and hung there, attached to a safety strap. Most of the force of the rounds must have hit the struts of the tower. He held fast to his rifle and brought it around to shoot. Buck found him in his sight and fired a burst of three rounds, but as he fired he saw the muzzle flash of the M21 and instantly felt the round go through his helmet and crease his forehead.
All was black for a few seconds. He came to as Lester was putting some gauze on his heavily bleeding wound. Tank and the rest of the team rushed to his aid and helped carry him back behind the wall at the patio. Although he bled a lot, he was going to be okay.
The sniper on the cell phone tower didn’t fare as well. One round took off half his skull and the other two left large holes in his body. As he watched the shooter drop his rifle and go lifeless, Buck said, “That man was a hell of a marksman to go for a head shot on me while he was hanging from a strap.”
With Buck patched up and the sniper dispatched, they could now search the smoking remains of the canal control building and see if anyone remained alive. They moved out on the grass that covered the area between the two largest buildings locked at the Panama Canal. The administration building was a much larger structure, but it wasn’t directly at the canal site.
Askari was in the main Miraflores Locks Control building, and he was waiting on them.