Cameron nodded slowly, finishing his cheese and crackers. “Glad he’s on our team.”
Carlos, Gunner, and Wilson lay on the hillside until about 10:30 P.M., taking turns watching the cabin, using a telescopic night sight. No entry or exit occurred during that time, but Gunner had informed Carlos that two Indonesians had entered the cabin earlier that morning, remaining inside throughout the day. He showed Carlos two photos on a small electronic device.
“We emailed these images back to SAS HQ. They confirmed these were two of the five terrorists who participated in the Fremantle bombing about eight months ago. They killed nineteen Australians. That’s why I’d like to go in with you and kill the bastards.”
Carlos nodded. “I’m going in alone. I’ll handle it.”
Wilson confirmed that all three men had remained in the cabin, two in the front room, with the primary target out of sight toward the back left of the cabin. The three of them watched until the lights went out in the cabin about 11:30 P.M.
At 1:40, the moon cloistered behind a thick bank of low-lying clouds, Carlos pulled his gear together and prepared to leave the observation site, two hundred meters seaward from the cabin. “I’m going down that slight incline over on the right. I’ll approach slowly and be in position in about forty minutes,” Carlos said. “Before I enter, I’ll give you a quick laser beam. Depending on what I find, I’ll be out in three minutes, or it might take a half hour. I won’t know until I decide if I’m going to snatch or terminate. I’ll contact you with a sitrep as soon as the situation is under control. If there’s no contact in the first twenty minutes, you can assume I’ve encountered a problem. Return to the Zodiac and advise General Connor.”
“You don’t want us to come in and lend a hand?” Gunner asked.
Carlos shook his head. “No. He’ll be dead or I will… or both. If not, I’ll bring him out.”
With that, Carlos slipped quietly into the darkness of the foliage, slowly making his way toward the silhouette that represented the cabin. Gunner and Wilson waited on the hillside, Gunner wearing the night vision equipment and watching Carlos for most of his approach. Just before entering the cabin, the Marine lay silently near the front steps, listening for any sound from within. After about ten minutes, he rolled slightly and gave a quick flash from his penlight laser toward Gunner’s position.
Carlos donned a gas mask apparatus with night vision capabilities and readied a small aerosol container, then began his approach to the cabin door. He picked the rather primitive lock on the door in seconds. Once inside, Carlos paused beside the entrance for several minutes, listening intently. He could detect the sound of deep breathing and the smell of alcohol and cigarettes.
The cabin was essentially one large room. He could see an L-shaped angle toward the south end where he assumed Wolff was located. The two other men were sleeping, one on the couch, and one on the floor, with several blankets wrapped around his dark form. Carlos pressed the top button on the aerosol device, emitting a slight hissing sound. A colorless, odorless gas escaped into the room, drifting across the body of each of the two sleeping men. Carlos then replaced the can in his side pocket and moved a step at a time toward the nearest man. He unsheathed his six-inch, serrated Fairbairn tactical knife and slowly knelt down beside the body on the couch. The man was turned, face toward the backrest. In one swift, but silent, motion, Carlos placed one hand over the man’s mouth and sliced the Fairbairn across his throat, holding him quiet until his body relaxed. He watched the second man as the first bled out, ready to move quickly if he exhibited any sign of awakening.
He then rose quietly and took three stealthy steps to the other man, repeating the process with his Fairbairn until the body was breathless. Sheathing his knife, Carlos waited several long moments, listening intently for any sound of movement coming from the far corner of the cabin. Hearing none, he stood and moved toward the back of the cabin.
Inching along the back wall, one step at a time, waiting at each step and breathing shallow during his transit, Carlos took one more long inhale, retrieved the aerosol can, and then held his breath as he peered around the wall into the room that contained the bed. His night vision goggles reflected the body heat as a green glow of someone lying on the bunk, and there was a slightly stronger odor of alcohol in the air.
Carlos stooped and slowly duck-walked across the floor, keeping his head below the edge of the mattress and expelling the aerosol container as he progressed. The spray drifted over the prostrate form, and in about ninety seconds, Carlos could hear his breathing slow and deepen. At that point, he rose up, replaced the spray can in his side pocket, and withdrew his HK special ops pistol. With the barrel of the weapon, he poked the back of the sleeping man, eliciting no response. Certain the man was under the influence of the gas, he pulled a small leather packet from his side pocket and retrieved a syringe and vial, extracting a few cc’s of liquid and injecting it into Wolff’s neck. He then placed plastic cuffs on both wrists and ankles, using a longer plastic tie to secure the arms to the legs, essentially binding the man’s movement without tying him to the bed. Then he forcefully shook the man, slapping his face several times with no response.
Carlos returned to the front door, pressed his throat microphone button, and gave the “all clear” signal to the SAS troops on the hillside. He then turned on his small flashlight and began to survey the room. In the corner nearest the cooking area, he immediately spotted a briefcase and several sheets of paper strewn about the small dining table. On the floor next to the table was a black canvas case. When he opened it, he saw a laptop contained inside. He removed his backpack and placed all papers and the laptop inside, then slipped the pack over his shoulders again. He then returned to the bedroom. There was slight movement from the sleeping man, but he did not wake.
Carlos approached the bed, pistol in hand, and watched as Wolff began to show signs of awareness. He could see the surprise in the Wolff’s eyes as his brain began to register.
“Buenas noches, Senor Wolff,” he said. “Comprende?”
Wolff gave no response, appearing not quite coherent. Carlos knelt on the side of the bed and slapped him across the face. “I said, do you understand?”
Wolff nodded.
“I am come to kill you… or make you a prisoner. You choose. You have been injected… to relax you. You hear, you speak, and you think, even, but only a little movement is possible for many hours. Do you understand?”
Again Wolff nodded.
“Say, ‘ yes,’ Senor Wolff,” Carlos said, still holding the pistol in full view of his prisoner.
Wolff nodded and softly said, “Yes.”
“Your two visitors today, Senor Wolff, who are they?”
Wolff angled his head, a quizzical look on his face.
Carlos rapped the restrained man on the side of the head with his pistol barrel. “ Senor Wolff, I have your papers and your laptop. I have no need of you. Now choose. Answer my questions and come with me, or you join your friends in the room in front. They have no choice. Comprende?”
Wolff slowly nodded again.
Carlos struck the pistol barrel against the side of Wolff’s cheek, saying nothing.
“Yes, I understand,” Wolff responded.
“ Muy bien. Now, let us make this decision. Do you want to live, Senor Wolff? If I deliver you to the people who want you, it is their choice. But at least you will survive this night. Now, who were your two visitors?”
“Indonesians. Guerillas from the islands.”
“What did they want?”
“Just to make contact. They were leaving tomorrow.”
Carlos didn’t believe him, but stood quiet for a moment, considering his options. He glanced at his watch and then at Wolff again. Both men shared a knowing look. If Wolff was as experienced as Carlos had been led to believe by both British intelligence and General Connor’s summary, he knew that on many prior occasions, the roles had been reversed and it had been Wolff deciding whether or not someone would live.
Carlos reached in his pocket again and retrieved the small leather packet, withdrawing another syringe and vial. “You are going on a cruise, Senor Wolff. And you will live a while more.”
Once he had injected Wolff with a deeper sedative, he pressed his throat microphone and contacted his outside backup. “Coming out with one package. Meet me at the head of the south path.”
At the intersection of the paths heading toward the beach, Gunner took the inert body of Wolff from Carlos
