She shrugged off her small, black tactical backpack and checked her weapons, securing the two fixed-blade, black stilettos and a suppressed SIGSAUER P229 9mm pistol in a holster that accommodated the suppressor. She adjusted her gear one last time and moved towards the northwest corner of the facility. She’d selected the remote corner as her infiltration point since it was the furthest part of the compound from the operations center and the barracks.
Her first objective was simple – enter the compound, move as quietly as possible under the cover of darkness, and eliminate all patrols. Considering the size of the estimated enemy force, she figured there were no more than a handful of men on duty. Once she cleared the exterior, she’d tackle the larger problem of freeing the hostages. One thing at a time.
Dressed in a skin-tight, black, long-sleeve compression shirt, black tactical pants, black Oakley hiking shoes, and a black neoprene balaclava that covered her head, her figure was nothing more than a lean, muscular shadow that moved through the darkness.
She reached her infiltration point and kept moving, the absence of a perimeter wall another tactical advantage. The maze of pipelines stretched out towards the east side of the compound, several hundred meters away. Using the pipes as additional concealment, she quickly and quietly crept towards the middle of the facility. The enormous tanks lay to her right, blocking out the sky. Just keep moving. There have to be men out here somewhere. Not even a rag-tag bunch of rebels would leave the compound completely unguarded at night.
Thirty seconds and another one hundred meters later, and two voices engaged in conversation reached her neoprene-covered ears. Amira froze and waited, her ears automatically zeroing in on the two men. Their voices grew slightly quieter, and Amira moved towards the space between the first and second storage tanks. They’re just around the curve, moving away. You’ll catch them from behind.
Shrouded in darkness since the architects had failed to have the foresight to install lighting at the base of the tanks, she crossed the open space between the pipes and the tanks. The sound of her footfalls barely reached her own ears, which reassured her that the two men would never detect her approach.
The voices grew louder, and she realized the two men had stopped moving, just out of sight. What now? Her internal inquiry was answered with the flick of a lighter. Perfect. They’re holding their cigarettes and not their weapons. Go now.
A black stiletto in each hand, fingers wrapped around each grip with each blade pointing down, Amira stalked her prey, her feet moving swiftly across the dirt. She rounded the wall of the tank, the two men finally coming into repose fixed to the ground less than ten feet away. A force of nature that had been trained as one of the CIA’s most lethal assassins, she struck the two rebels in a blinding flash of dark speed and fury.
Her final steps as she reached them alerted the two men, but by then, it was too late. Attacking from the left side of the rebel closest to her, she plunged the left stiletto into the side of the man’s neck, lowered her center of gravity, and spun completely around to her right across the front of the mortally wounded man. She exited her spin directly in front of the second guard, who only had time to drop his cigarette, and plunged the right-hand stiletto into his chest just below his breastbone, piercing his heart. Both men collapsed to the ground, unconscious in their final death throes.
Their bodies stopped twitching, and Amira crouched motionless, waiting for the sounds of reinforcement. A minute ticked by, and then another. Good. No alarms. Two down. Keep moving.
On the south side of the huge tanks that towered above her, she moved east towards the single-story operations center, intent on her objective.
A low growl that grew in length and rose in pitch – ending in a solid note that reminded her of a whale and not a land predator – rose from outside the facility. Amira ceased her motion. A second growl-yelp joined the first. Wonderful. Hyenas. The aggressive animals were notorious night-time hunters. In a pack, they were apex predators, powerful killers, and mortal enemies of lions. A single adult spotted hyena could individually take down a wildebeest, even though the social animals preferred strength in numbers. A third growl-yelp joined the first two. Definitely a pack.
The three animals went silent, but Amira remained motionless. Thirty seconds later, the night calls started again, still south of the facility but closer to the perimeter near the east side. They’re hunting something. And then it hit her, and Amira broke from her location, stretching her legs into a run.
She’d planned to create a diversion, but the Wild Kingdom event unfolding before her was better than anything she’d thought of to this point. Trevor Emerson’s voice in her head approvingly said, The greatest skill as an operator is to use the unknown to your advantage. If you can harness unforeseen events to suit your purpose, your enemy will never have a chance. She thought he’d be especially pleased with what Mother Nature had thrown in her path.
Amira covered the open ground south of the tanks and reached the eastern man-made barrier of pipes that ran from north to south. Smaller buildings connected to the pipes up and down the line. Past the barrier, erected floodlights illuminated the operations center and the barracks building just south of it.
More growls erupted to her right, only a few hundred meters away and close enough to raise the hairs on the back of her neck and arms. Christ. How many are there? She discerned at least five, but their cries increased in
