Askari had been in contact with his submarine captain right until the end. Fatin Amrani had called out the trajectory path of the torpedoes headed towards the container ship. He also called in the proximity of the guided torpedo fired at him from the British frigate Warspite II. When his mic went silent, Askari knew his man was in Paradise, looking over several virgins to ravish at his convenience, since he had eternity to make his choices and an erection that stayed hard forever. Back on earth, a person with that condition would be required to see a doctor.
Currently, he had pressing problems of his own. Askari wasn’t convinced the seventy-two virgins promised was real, so he took his chances with the here and now. There were service tunnels under much of the canal gate area, and he made sure his office had an escape hatch to the entrance of the underground passageways. The time was near for him to go. The supervision of the final attack could be done offsite.
Lester and Debi moved across the grassy area and across the closed canal gate until they were against the east wall of the Lock Control building.
“Babe, how’re you doing?” Lester asked.
“I think I like this combat shit a little too much. Why is that?”
“Don’t know, except you get mad when you’re in danger. Most people are scared—you try to kill the people shooting at you and fear is lost in there somewhere. A Rambo brain locked in a beautiful girl’s body. Damn sexy!” Lester said.
“Cover me when I go around this corner,” Lester said. He, Buck, and Tank moved around to a closed door, while Debi held her weapon aimed at it. Buck and Tank decided to open it and fire a few bursts to soften up the area. No one fired back.
Covering each other as they entered the building, it was slow going as they crawled over the piles of rubble left from the three Javelin rounds. There was no resistance. It was easy to find the canal security room, but not so stress-free breaking through the steel door protecting the entrance.
“Buck, put a block of C4 near the handle on the door and set it for fifteen seconds. The rest of you get behind something,” Tank said, and moved into an adjoining room for cover.
Buck did as he was told and yelled “Fire in the hole!” after he set the timer on the detonator. The door came off, but a secondary explosion took place inside the room, which destroyed all the monitors and communication equipment.
“Hey, there’s a trap door with wires running out of it,” Lester said. “Might be dummy wires to delay us—maybe we should blow it just in case.”
Rick agreed and had Buck set another charge. There wasn’t a secondary explosion, and everyone rushed into the tunnel. They all had to duck-walk to avoid banging against the low ceiling. As they saw daylight ahead they heard a noise.
“Is that a helicopter?” Tank asked, even though he already knew the answer.
“Yeah, and it looks like his family is aboard,” Buck said, as he crawled out of the tunnel into the bright sunlight.
There was a Vietnam-era helicopter with a single Browning machine gun pointed in their direction. A woman wearing a hijab and two young girls pressed their faces against the window directly behind the pilot.
“We can’t shoot—might hit the kids,” Tank yelled, and watched the aircraft turn and head east.
As the fire team wandered around the partially demolished canal control building there was a message to Tank from Rick.
“Area secure. All teams assemble at the visitors center for debriefing,” Rick announced to all squad leaders. “Be aware—Cobras, Apaches, and Blackhawks landing in area.”
The Blackhawks had been around for a while, but now they were joined with Apaches and Super Cobras from the states, all carrying fresh troops. All knew there was a threat still out there from six old Hueys. No one knew what kind of damage they could do but were ready to take them out if they showed up.
Lester and Debi walked across the grass towards the visitors center when they noticed a cruise ship coming up to the first gates at Miraflores.
“It’s almost three o’clock and the canal is back in business,” Lester said, looking at his TAG dive watch.
“You do realize that the canal will be the most vulnerable when the locks are full of ships. I can also see from here the super Panamax container ships are moving,” Debi remarked. “Does Rick realize this?”
“I’m sure everyone here realizes the danger. I wonder what the optimum time will be for some sort of attack,” Lester said as he dialed Rick on his cell phone.
“Yeah, Lester. What’s up?” Rick said, sounding busier than usual.
“What’s the prime time for an attack?” Lester inquired.
“We figure about 5:10 p.m. All locks will be full, and I’ll have all the birds either in the air or set on ready.”
“What can we do?” Lester asked.
“Be ready to shoot down some helicopters. I’ll position all the squads where they’ll do the most good. Just relax until then.”
“What’s up with the train they rented for the entire day?” Lester asked.
“Forgot about that—could be they wanted to escape in it. I’ll send a squad in the train tunnel shortly to see if anything is going on in there. No trains have run today,” Rick said, with a dismissive voice.
“Right. Well, if nobody is handy, I’m sure Tank will take the job,” Lester said, pointing to Tank and smiling at having volunteered him for more action.
“What did you just sign me up for?” Tank asked. “I need something to do.”
“The train that normally goes up and down the canal was privately rented for the day. Tunnel needs to be checked out. No hurry,” Lester said. He saw Jordan, Maria, Simone, and Monte in the beer line at the food patio. The drink cooler had miraculously survived the onslaught of bullets.
It took a while to exchange war stories, but it was obvious all saw considerable action. Lester discussed the tunnel assignment, and for some reason all of them wanted to go check it out.
“You guys really want to be shot at in a dark tunnel? A bunch of fucking adrenalin junkies, I’d say,” Lester said.
“You can round up whoever you want for this patrol, but we can’t spend much time on it. Everyone needs to be in place at around five o’clock around the locks. We’ve got teams at the other locks with choppers standing by. There are some jeeps and trucks that will take you to the railway. It’s about a half mile or so to the tunnel. It’s over seven-hundred feet long—could be anything in there. Train doesn’t have a station or stop here—only two stations—one in Panama City and the other at Colón. You need to finish your beers and go begin your new career as tunnel rats. Lester, you and Buck take the lead on this. I’m going to line out our positions for protecting the ships. Join us when you get back. It’s 1530 hours—be back at 1730 hours. Got it?” Tank said.
“Got it. Grab your beers—we can drink them on the way,” Buck said. “We’ll get this over in a hurry.”
The six people from the Queen of the Seas followed Buck down to a small military-type truck with police markings on the side. The driver already knew where to take them and pulled off the road to a small gravel path used as a service road for the railroad tracks. They saw the tunnel in the distance, and as they got closer, they could read the two dates carved out in the concrete: 1909 Cusa 2001 Neosho.
“I was told they replaced the track in 2001—different gauge—more modern,” Lester said.
“And before we go in, I want to call our buddies at NSA,” Debi said. “They know this battle from all angles.”
Lance answered on the first ring, “Debi, my doll—see you made it through the battle.”
“Doesn’t pay to piss me off,” Debi said. “We’re about to go into this damn railroad tunnel. How does it look through your cameras?”
“Just fly-by pics. The main train is still in Balboa. I’ll call you if it moves,” Lance said.
“Thanks. Can you guys find out who paid to rent the whole train for the day?” Lester asked as he pulled the phone closer to his ear.
“A group called Friends of the Canal paid for the whole day,” Holton said. “Looks like it was reserved by a Nadia Askari, and the payment was in cash.”
“How do you find out this crap?” Debi asked.
“We’re good at secret shit. It’s our calling,” Holton said, laughing.
“I doubt we’ll find anything, but we’re going in,” Lester said,
Buck told the driver to stay put and had the group break into two rows to cling to the entrance sides of the tunnel. Lester was teamed with Debi and Simone.
“Damn, this is the threesome I’ve always dreamed about,” he said.
“Down, big boy. She’s spoken for,” Debi said. “Besides you’re worn out from making babies.”
“I could garner the energy—if you two would be gentle with me.” The two girls laughed and snuffed out his fantasy.
They slowly began to see the light at the end of the tunnel. In the dim light, they could see something lying next to the tracks. It appeared from a distance to be rags—several stacks of rags on each side of the tracks almost halfway into the tunnel. When they got closer, they turned on flashlights and cell phones to make out the objects. Maria, Jordan, and Monte were first to examine the rags only to discover they weren’t rags but fine Muslim garments. Maria held one set against Jordan for prospective. When the garment unfolded, a beautiful full-length abaya and hijab draped across the front of Monte’s body. All the outfits were black and made of a rich fabric. There were forty-two neatly-folded Muslim dresses and scarves.
“Buck, you’ve been to Iraq and Afghanistan. Is this the proper dress for a woman to attend a funeral?” Lester asked.
“Women normally don’t attend funerals in the Muslim world, but if they did—yeah, this would be proper,” Buck said. “I don’t know why they would be planning a funeral dress for inside this tunnel. We’ve seen enough. Let’s get back to the visitors center. We’ll have your buddies keep an eye on this place. It’s goddamn creepy!”