Manipulation. D.K. Wilde
one last effort and with that the concrete stopped and he burst through the surface. Gasping for air and struggling to stay afloat his first priority was to get out of the water.
He saw the shore thirty metres to his front as he kicked and lunged himself across the surface. Eventually reaching the lakes rocky edge he pulled himself out of the water. Exhausted, involuntarily shaking and trying desperately to stay coherent. Wobbling to his feet, he used a rock to cut the rope binding his hands and headed for the hangar.
Entering he saw the plane had gone. With the air temperature approaching freezing point; him naked, wet, beaten and having suffered doses of concussion he knew he needed to get his core temperature up. Staggering to a change room he found soiled overalls, boots and an emergency Space Blanket. The small shower stung his back and head eating into the cuts but having been conditioned he ignored the pain and let the steam billow through the room. Unaware of how long he had stood under the ever increasing water temperature, he dried himself off and donned two pair of the overalls. Wrapped himself in the blanket and stared into the mirror. The image staring back would have made most people collapse with despair but years of fighting in some of the worse battle zones on earth had left him in far worse condition so he closed his eyes and focused on beautiful images.
Wade had learnt when lying in some putrid, disease infested trench in a remote jungle or hiding in a rat infested building, whilst engaged in urban warfare, that the only way to remain focused was to block out the surrounding conditions and concentrate on images like a cascading waterfall or a lush green oasis buried somewhere deep in his beloved desert. He had mastered this art and could do it with his eyes open while still completely aware of his surroundings.
His head felt foggy but the warm water had started to ease the throbbing.
Thirty minutes later he felt his energy levels rise, the warmth had returned and the shaking had stopped. A further thirty minutes passed and after more searching he discovered a tattered flight jacket and beanie.
Returning to the now deserted bunker with the last of the fires flickering, he located his pack, weapons, GPS and NVG. It was midnight when he arrived at the Ucluelet harbour, after a steady paced twelve kilometre run from the bunker. The harbour was deserted. He found a forty foot, twin engine Scarab. Ensuring it was fully fuelled he released it from its moorings and let the outward flowing current drag the boat down to the open sea. Once passed the harbour master tower he engaged the engines and commenced the five hour trip.
Seattle
“Excuse me, sir. You cannot tie up here, this is US Naval property,” stated the guard standing on the wharf.
“I need to talk to your Commanding Officer,” replied Wade as he tried to keep the boat from contacting with the two IRB’s tied further along the wharf.
“I’m sorry, sir but you’ll need to go to a public wharf and then arrange to speak with the CO from the main gate.”
“I understand the SOP (Standard Operating Procedure) Seamen but it’s very important I get information to the NSC ASAP,” yelled Wade once again trying desperately not to hit the IRB’s.
With that Wade heard a voice from ten metres along the wharf, “You two, grab those mooring ropes,” as he turned to see a fully kitted and camouflaged man pointing at his boat.
As the boat was secured, the person in charge stepped up to his boat. “Wade Ross … what a surprise to see you here!”
“Hi Joe,” replied Wade as he stepped from the boat and they shook hands.
Joe Carr, SEAL Team 6 Commanding Officer and a very good friend of Wade’s. Joe was ten years senior to Wade and renowned as a tough taskmaster. He expected only the maximum from his men and would push everybody beyond their limits. Wade was one of the few people who Joe genuinely admired.
“I’m guessing you’re not here for a visit and what the hell has happened to you?” Joe asked looking at the state of Wade’s clothes, face and hands.
“I had some bad luck with a sacrificial ceremony and had to swim to get out,” replied Wade smiling.
“Well … is there anything we can do to help?”
Wade explained the chain of events but left out the reason why. After some discussion Joe agreed to help Wade get back into the compound on Mount Walker.
Wade, Joe and the four SEALs got some breakfast, checked their weapons, prepared their gear and left Bangor Naval Base, Hood Canal.
Wade contacted General Forest and after a thorough detailed account, explained what he and the SEAL team intended to do.
Mount Walker
“What can I do now … they’re all gone … my babies are all gone?” sobbed Roxy with her head in her hands.
“I understand but we need to put that behind us and look toward the future,” responded the doctor calmly.
“You don’t understand,” she screamed.
Suddenly Samantha Cooper stood and the personality Troy took over.
“Okay, Doc, we’re out of here. Grab whatever you can and be at the chopper in ten minutes. We won’t be coming back … ever,” he ordered.
Leaving the room Troy spoke into his mobile phone. Ordering his staff that a Code One was now operational. Immediately the staff started loading documents, money, jewellery into carry bags, computers were erased and anything of importance that was not going on the flight was destroyed.
Exactly ten minutes later, two heavy haulage helicopters and a state of the art Bell 525 Relentless, carrying Samantha Cooper, the doctor and the Asian guard lifted off.
Unaware of his plans, Troy had instructed his staff to prepare for their return in ten days. They were to increase security details and surveillance.
Mount Walker
Wade and the SEAL team reached the cliff face, on the eastern side of Mount Walker, early afternoon. Wade had already explained the climb, the building layout and the early warning devices.
Having brought the proper climbing gear, they went higher than the services area and entered from the perimeter fence. The six men split into two three-man groups. Wade and two SEALs coming in from north of the house using the water tanks as cover. Joe and the remaining two SEALs would enter from behind the hangar. They would have more protection both from sight and enemy fire but they also had a one hundred metre open lawn area they needed to cross. Two metres from the fence, the team connected by throat mikes and earpieces, Wade called a halt.
“What’s up?” asked Joe through the mike.
“Something has changed … I’m not sure what but I have a feeling we might be walking into a trap,” replied Wade with his head sweeping from side to side.
“What do you want to do?” asked Joe again.
“I’m calling in a drone gas drop.”
All six men backed away from the fence as they grabbed for their gas masks. Wade called through to General Forest the co-ordinates.
Six minutes later the single, grey, radar reflecting, unmanned drone took off from Fairchild US Air Force base carrying three gas canisters and two infrared disabling devices.
Using his portable GPS and radar tracking signal, that was emanating from Washington DC, Wade was able to watch as the drone approached. At 50,000 feet, travelling at Mach 1.9 and directly above its target, the drone shot its package towards earth. Travelling at the speed of sound, the missile encased package got to 300 feet, exploded and the three canisters and two devices floated into the compound. With knockout gas spewing from the canisters and all the infrared inactive, Wade and the team waited until the occupants rushed from the buildings.
The nine men and four women fell like ten pins as the elite fighters picked them off. Convinced there were no more; they proceeded to cut an opening through