Sabotage: Beginnings Read Free Page B

ground his teeth until Ben heard snapping sounds. “You sit on your sunburned ass while your fellow councilmen are killed, and now you want to condemn this younger man to death so you can deliver a message,” he whispered as he yanked the knife from Al bin Tosk’s thigh.
    “Please send me,” Al bin Tosk cried louder. “Please.”
    “I’ll send you,” Ben mocked. “I’ll send you to hell.”

Chapter 3

    J ustice realized the sun would set soon. He cautiously hustled to maneuver into position before light was lost. Unhappy about Batya calling the shots on this phase of the mission, Justice respected her specialization as a long-range sniper.
    “Assassin is more like it,” he bitched.
    Low crawling over jagged terrain wasn’t his idea of a good time, but it sure beat continuing to argue with that hardheaded woman. Justice mashed his lips closed; toxic combinations of sand, dirt, dung and scorpions littered Pakistan’s terrain. He snugged his olive drab scarf just beneath his eyes. The wind goggles had become dry-rotted in the elements. He knew the special operation’s adage that two is one, and one is none held true almost every time, but stranded in the harshest of elements didn’t always jive with headquarters rhetoric.
    Justice remained close to the ridge. He could actually still see Afghanistan’s Kandahar region over the crest. Sun beamed off the light colored dirt floor—he closed his eyes and tried to muster tears before reopening them. He imagined what the region’s founder, Alexander the Great, must’ve thought as he traversed the new land. Justice couldn’t be sure, but he’d be willing to bet he thought it was a total shit hole.
    He rolled onto his left side to allow the heat that had blistered through his TDU clothing to escape back into the camel-scented atmosphere. The long-range scope showed he was still about a quarter mile from his destination. He spotted Batya on the level cliff as they’d agreed. She looked to have the crossing guards in her sights. The plan was for her to take out two of the three terrorists with long-range headshots. The third would flee. Justice would intercept him before he signaled for help or got away.
    The Khojak Pass was a popular passage route for terrorists moving back and forth between both countries. Despite Pakistan’s Prime Minister’s pledge to fight the Taliban and help capture Osama bin Laden—the nation had done nothing to help. The border checkpoint was a farce. Manned by possible terrorists, they served as lookouts against US and coalition forces. They’d be better off dead.
    Physical discomfort was something Justice had learned to set aside. It was part of Delta’s and the CIA’s Special Operations Group training. The ability didn’t come easy, but he’d need to rely on it during this mission to survive. The sun increased intensity. Even though the hellish heat of the day would fade at sunset, evening’s brisk cold was a few long hours away.
    He felt his body beginning to slow under the strain of moving stealthily for so long. Tattered hands and knees ached like hell, but were a better alternative than detection.
    At last, he arrived. One—two—three gulps from his canteen and he stole a moment to rest before giving Batya the signal. Justice laid flat onto his chest. Each jagged stone jutted into his gut and legs, and he felt every one. If earth had ever wanted revenge upon humans for trampling across it, this was the spot for the payback. The original three guards remained in place but in a makeshift camp about two hundred yards on the Pakistani side of the ridge, another three-man crew waited down the slope.
    Son of a bitch. This is going to turn into a firefight.
    His foot twitched—anxious about whether Batya would understand his signal to wait. He soon felt nervousness detonating like small explosions throughout his body.
    He tried to spy her with his single-lens scope, squinting to shield his eye from the relentless sun’s rays.