Just as he got to him, the guard opened his eyes, frightened at the apparition standing in front of him. "h.e.l.lo," Hugh said as he drove his stiletto into the man's throat.

137.

137.

Before the dead man's body hit the ground, the rest of Hugh's force was moving rapidly through the doorway, silenced Uzis at the ready.

A man carrying a sheaf of papers in his arms stopped on the staircase, and was cut down in a hail of bullets that made no sound louder than a cough.

The SAS men rushed up the stairs two at a time, the barrels of their weapons moving from side to side in front of them, ready to fire.

Peeling off by twos into the various rooms of the building, they began to fire at men awakened more by the smell of cordite than the sound of machine guns firing.

Al Hazmi glanced over his shoulder when he heard a thud from the stairwell. He was standing next to a radio, about to send a report to El Farrar that he'd had no contact with hostiles.

Frowning, he moved toward the door, and was startled when a black-faced man wearing dark BDUs stepped through the opening. He pointed an Uzi at Hazmi's gut and asked in a conversational tone, "Do you speak English?"

Hazmi considering lying and saying no, but the man raised the barrel of his gun to point at his face, and he changed his mind. "Yes."

"Then, step away from the radio and take a seat. My CO will be here in a minute to talk to you."

Hazmi's eyes moved to the remote control detonator lying on his desk next to the radio handset. He might just have time to press the b.u.t.ton before the man could fire.

The soldier, seeing his eyes shift, grinned and said, "Don't even think about it, Abdul or whatever your name is. I'd cut you in half before you took two steps!"

Hazmi sighed and sat down in a chair against the wall.

138.

He didn't even bother to ask who the men were who were invading his headquarters. He knew they were from Ben Raines, the infidel devil.

A few minutes later, Hazmi's second in command, Taha al-Alwani, was pushed by Hugh through the door. He had a deep gash on his forehead and was bleeding profusely."Sit over there next to your friend," Hugh said, giving al-Awani a shove.

"Now, who's in charge here?" Hugh asked.

Al-Awani and Hazmi glanced at each other, neither saying anything.

Hugh shook his head, a sad expression on his face. "So, it's going to be that way, is it?" he asked.

Al-Awani sat up straight in his chair and stuck his chest out. "You will get no information from us, infidel dogs! We are not afraid to become martyrs for our cause."

Hugh grinned crookedly. "Oh, I'm not about to make martyrs of you, sir,"

he said in a soft but dangerous voice. "That would be against all rules of warfare."

Al-Awani allowed himself a small smile, thinking these infidels were so stupid.

Hugh looked over at Sergeant Major Gifford. "Tommy," he said calmly, "kindly put a bullet through that gentleman's right kneecap."

As Tommy smiled and aimed his pistol at al-Awani, the Arab held out his hands. "But you said . . ."

"I just said I wouldn't make a martyr out of you, sir. I said nothing about maiming you a little."

"But I must protest . . ." al-Awani began, sweat appearing on the part of his forehead that wasn't covered with blood.

Hugh shrugged. "Protest all you want, sir, it will do you no good. After I have the sergeant major shoot out both of your knees, making you a cripple for the rest of 139.

139.

your life, I will have him pluck out your eyes and perforate your eardrums. Then we will leave you to crawl around this city on your belly, blind and deaf, with only the ability to scream out your pain for all to hear. I think that will be a suitable lesson for all those who wish to join the terrorist forces, don't you?"

"But. . . but you can't do that!" al-Awani protested.

"Shut up, you cowardly dog!" Hazmi ordered. "He is only trying to trick you. He would never dare to do such a thing."

Hugh looked at Tommy and nodded his head toward Al Hazmi.

Tommy took dead aim and shot Hazmi in the right knee, blowing half the joint out the back of his leg to splatter against the wall.

Hazmi screamed, grabbed his ruined leg, and toppled out of his chair onto the floor, where he writhed in pain, moaning and crying.

When Tommy turned his pistol toward al-Awani, the man held out bothhands. "Wait. . . wait! What do you want to know?" he asked as fear-sweat made dark stains on his clothes.

"That's better," Hugh said. He looked over his shoulder at the soldiers standing behind Tommy. "Get this piece of camel s.h.i.t out of here," he ordered, indicating the still-crying Hazmi.

Once Hazmi had been dragged from the room, leaving a trail of scarlet blood on the floor, Hugh pulled up a chair and sat directly in front of al-Awani.

"Now, my friend, tell me all you know."

"What is it you wish to know?" al-Awani asked, sleeving sweat off his face with his arm.

"Who the commanding officers are at the oil fields, what frequency you use to contact them, and if they have 140.

the power to explode the plutonium bombs, to start with," Hugh said.

Al-Awani licked dry lips. "If I give you this information, I will be killed."

"It's your choice, friend," Hugh said. "Possible death, or sure maiming."

"All right," al-Awani said. "I'll tell you."

Hugh smiled. "I thought you might."

141.

Bartholomew Wiley-Smeyth led his men through the darkness of the desert night, moving quickly but silently toward the outskirts of the oil fields around Riyadh. Directly behind him and to either side were his top two men. John Davidson and his brother, David, were two of the deadliest killers in his squad. Each had saved Bart's life on more than one occasion, and he relied on them to be his eyes and ears in the field when he was concentrating on tactics or leading the rest of the men under his command.

The Davidson brothers were fearless when it came to their own safety, and considered protecting their leader to be their most important job.

As they neared the area of the outermost oil wells, it was John who first noticed a brief scarlet glow in the distance. He quickly tapped Bart's left arm and held his hand out, palm down-the signal to hit the dirt.

When Bart flopped down p.r.o.ne on the ground, all of the men following immediately did the same.

Bart shifted his eyes to John, who pointed a bit off to their left and whispered, "Cigarette glow, 'bout two hundred meters."

Bart followed his directions, and after another moment 142he saw it too, a sentry enjoying a cigarette in the early evening darkness.

"d.a.m.n fool," Bart mumbled to himself. Aware that noise traveled long distances on the desert, he patted John's shoulder in silent thanks for the warning, and crawled back to find his radio operator, Walter Johnson.

Walter had the radio on vibration setting so an incoming call wouldn't alert any nearby sentries.

Bart moved next to him and whispered, "Give Hugh a call and see what his status is in the city."

Walter nodded and keyed his mike in a prearranged code. That sent a signal that would sound a couple of low-pitched clicks on Holmsby's radio, another precaution against giving a warning to any nearby ears.

After a few seconds, Walter heard three answering clicks on his set and nodded at Bart, who took the mike and slipped on an ear-set. "He gave the response that says it's okay to transmit," Walter said.

"Lion Two, come in. This is Lion One," Bart whispered, his lips against the mike to maintain silence. He spoke so low that even the men lying on the sand a few feet away heard nothing.

"Lion One, this is Lion Two," Hugh Holmsby responded.

"What's your situation?" Bart asked.

"A-l," Hugh answered, indicating he'd achieved his purpose and captured the enemy headquarters in Riyadh.

"Excellent. Any intel?" Bart asked.

"Stand by, One," Hugh answered, and was silent for twenty seconds. When he came back on-line, he said, "Here are GPS readings for the locations of wells with bombs attached."

Bart held up his hand and made writing movements to 143.

143.

Walter, who quickly handed him a pad and pencil from his breast pocket.

"Go ahead," Bart said.

Hugh read off ten sets of numbers, giving the lat.i.tude and longitude readings on the Global Positioning Satellite receiver Bart would need to find the wells that had been mined.

Bart smiled quickly, his teeth gleaming white in the darkness. "How did you manage to get these?" he asked, admiration in his voice.

"I excel in the art of gentle persuasion," Hugh answered dryly.

"I'll bet it wasn't too gentle," Bart answered with a chuckle. "Anything else?"

"My source says the bombs in the wells can be triggered by the terroristguards, but only by hand. They have no remote detonators with them. He says once they trip the switch, the bombs go off one minute later."

"Any description of the bomb mechanism itself?"

"Sorry. My source is not a technician, and the only man here who knew the precise layout of the bombs was killed in our attack. We're looking through all of the papers here to see if we can come up with a schematic, but so far no luck."

"That's okay, Lion Two. Post some guards on your prisoners and take the rest of your men out into the field. I figure we've got maybe twelve to twenty-four hours before the terrorist reinforcements show up. We've got to get these bombs unhooked and hidden before they arrive."

. "Yes, sir," Hugh answered. "Looking at a map of the fields, my men are closest to the following wells with bombs." He read off four numbers, indicating the well 144.

positions he and his men would attempt to take, and Bart jotted them down.

"Lion One signing off," Bart said. "Be safe, Lion Two."

"Roger that, Lion One. You too. Over."

After he got off the SOHFRAD with Hugh, Bart gathered his men close around him so he could talk in a low voice. Each of his squad leaders carried a GPS receiver, and he told them to plug in the coordinates of the six wells they would have to capture and disarm.

"It's gonna be tough to get to all of them without the terrorists knowing we're attacking," Bart said. "We need to keep noise to a minimum, so make sure all your weapons have their silencers attached and use your a.s.sault knives whenever possible."

He divided his forty men up into six groups of six men each, with four groups having seven men, and a.s.signed each of them a squad leader and a set of coordinates to move toward.

Glancing at his own GPS and then at his watch, he said, "I figure it'll take about half an hour for all of the squads to get into position, so we'll coordinate our attacks to begin in thirty minutes from . . . now."

The men all set their watches and without another word, the squad leaders gathered their men and melted away into the darkness.

Bart kept the Davidson brothers with him. He knew they would have been very upset had he separated them from him, so he didn't try.

Bart led his group toward the well that was their target, and avoided sentries whenever they spotted them. Luckily, the sentries weren't expecting any trouble, and were 145.

145.

not very well trained in the first place, so they talked and smokedamong themselves and were pretty easy to spot and avoid.

Only once, when the men happened upon a sentry leaning back against a low bush sleeping were they surprised. As the sentry started to awake when John Davidson almost tripped over him, John stuck his left arm against the man's mouth, and quickly dispatched him by grabbing his throat with his right hand and ripping it out.

When Bart gave him a look, John shrugged. "I didn't have time to go for my knife," he said in a low voice.

David glanced at the man, who was gurgling and writhing as blood spurted from his torn carotid arteries. "I'll tell ya, bro," he observed dryly, "you're messy, but effective."

Bart and his men pa.s.sed over twenty wells before they came to the one that was b.o.o.by-trapped with the pluto-nium mine. They could tell without checking the GPS when they found it, for it was literally surrounded by sentries. These men were more alert than the others had been-perhaps because they knew they were guarding a bomb that would blow them to Allah if they relaxed their guard.

Bart checked his watch and whispered, "Five minutes." Using hand signals, he indicated he wanted the men to spread out and surround the well. "You guys take out the sentries and I'll make straight for the bomb," Bart said.

"That's the most dangerous place, boss," John Davidson said. "Why don't you let me do that?"

"Johnny," Bart answered, "now is not the time to question orders, okay?"

"Yes, sir," John answered sourly.

As the men moved off to flank the well, John whis- 146.

pered to David, "I'll take care of the sentries. You watch Bart's back."