Operation Run Dry
26 Klicks South-Southwest of Sanliurfa, Turkey
Local Time 2122 Hours
Trapped by Private Fieldstone’s corpse, Goose struggled to bring the MP5 up as the Syrian soldier stepped into the doorway with an AK-47. Goose fired from the point, trusting his instincts. A line of 9mm rounds zipped up the man from crotch to sternum, jerking him backward.
Goose talked quickly, relaying to Remington what was going on, how the play was busted and there were civilians in the fire zones. The women screamed in terror behind him, causing everything to be just a little more confusing.
At first, with blood all over him, Goose wasn’t sure that he hadn’t been shot as well. But when he moved to shove the dead private off of him, everything seemed to be in working order.
He stood with effort, feeling his bad knee shaking beneath him. Scooping up Fieldstone’s MP5, favoring the machine pistols for the inside work he was going to have to do to get them all free, he said a quick prayer to God, asking Him to watch over the young private. Then he turned his attention to the hallway.
Bracing his back against the doorframe, he peered out into the hall over both machine pistols, crossing his wrists so he had overlapping fields of fire.
Down the hall, a Syrian soldier peered around the door. Goose tracked a short burst across the wall and into the man’s head, knocking the corpse out into the hallway.
“Alpha Leader, this is Prime,” Lieutenant Keller radioed.
“Leader reads you, Prime.” Goose watched the hallway carefully.
“Base has ordered us out of the area.”
“I heard.” Goose still didn’t know why Remington gave the other team orders not to help him. Rangers didn’t leave a man behind when they could help it. Especially not a living soldier.
“Conner got out of the building. Are you and Fieldstone going to be able to get clear?”
“Fieldstone’s dead, Prime.” Goose turned back to the three women.
They jerked back from him, hitting the ends of the chains attached to the collars around their necks.
“Take it easy,” Goose said, “I’m a United States Army Ranger. I am First Sergeant Gander.”
All of the women looked worse for the wear.
Goose didn’t know what they’d been through, didn’t even want to guess at the moment. During his stay in Turkey, he’d heard that some of the drug warlords and terrorist organizations trafficked in white slavery, taking victims from American, European, and Russian women.
“I’m Hannah,” the oldest woman said. She was the blonde who looked like she could be the mother of the young girl.
“Ma’am,” Goose said. He knelt gingerly, turned so he could keep an eye on the doorway. His mind raced, listening to the rapid-fire blasts of explosions outside the building.
All three chains connected to a single eyebolt in the center of the floor.
“All of you get down,” Goose ordered. He stood and shifted, moving around so he was between the women and the eyebolt. He aimed one of the machine pistols at the eyebolt and squeezed the trigger. The 9mm rounds struck sparks from the heavy ring and made it jerk.
Please, God, Goose prayed, I can’t leave these women behind, and the later we get started, the harder it’s going to be to get away.
He fired again. This time the rounds chewed through the ring. At the same time, a shadow crept around the doorway. Lifting the machine pistol at once, Goose squeezed the trigger and held it, driving the Syrian soldier back with the 9mm rounds.
Goose switched out magazines, taking fresh loads from Fieldstone’s bandolier. He looked back at the women. “Hannah. Ma’am.”
She looked at him.
“You’re going to have to pick up your chains and carry them,” Goose said. “I can’t do anything about taking them off yet.”
The chains were heavy and thick, probably weighing a good five or ten pounds. Enough weight to throw someone off while running if he or she wasn’t used to it.
On top of that, Goose thought, these women are scared to death. He glanced back at Fieldstone’s body, then noticed the medkit the young private had carried. Laying one of the machine pistols down, Goose reached into the medkit and took out a roll of heavy surgical tape. He tossed the roll to Hannah.
“Hannah,” Goose said, “use the tape to secure the chains in coils. Just loop it around and around. If the chains are in coils, they’ll be easier to carry. And if you drop one, it shouldn’t hang low enough to trip you.”
“All right.” Hannah tore off the strips of tape with expert ease.
“Nurse?” Goose asked.
She looked up at him, startled. “How did you know?”
“A lucky guess, ma’am. That’s all.”
“I was part of the U.N. Peacekeeping force,” Hannah said as she went to work on the young girl’s chain. “Just over for a week. Brought my girl, Julie. Nothing like this was supposed to happen. We’ve been praying that someone would come for us. That slave trader Abu Alam brought us here yesterday.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I’m sorry about your friend.”
“Yes, ma’am. I am too. Private Fieldstone was a good soldier.”
Hannah finished binding the third chain. “Don’t you have other men in the area, Sergeant?”
Goose guessed she must have overheard Fieldstone address him as sergeant. He wore no rank insignia. “There are, ma’am, but they’re under orders to evac and scoot.”
Hannah looked like she couldn’t believe it. “They’re just going to leave us here?”
“No, ma’am,” Goose said. “I’m here with you. I’m going to get you out of here.” He stood, favoring his bad knee. “Are you ready to go? We don’t have much time. They’ll leave us sure enough if we’re not there.”
“Not exactly heroic, is it, Sergeant?”
“Ma’am,” Goose said, “soldiers aren’t heroes. They’re men doing hard, dangerous jobs. They’re also men who take orders. Men
