Free Echo Six: Black Ops 5 - Strikeforce Syria by Eric Meyer Page B

certain the man was conscious.
    How dare he ignore me?
    He removed his pistol, a GSh-18, from the holster on his belt. A gift from a friendly Russian arms salesman, the weapon fired the latest 9mm Parabellum rounds. Nothing unusual, but the GSh-18 packed a heavy punch. The regular rounds in the magazine could punch through most ballistic vests, and the pistol could also fire armor piercing rounds, capable of penetrating 6mm of steel plate. But that awesome striking power would not be needed this night. He aimed at the man’s knee.
    “I asked you a question. Who are you, and where are you from? I will give you five seconds. Then I will put a bullet through your knee. If you still refuse to speak, I will shoot the other knee, and you will never walk again. It is your choice. One, two, three…”
    Fifteen minutes later, he had most of it. The man was an Israeli! A Jew sent into Syria to locate and destroy the plant at Sheikh Najjar.
    Thank God the Jew failed to reach his target, but he couldn’t have been alone.
    The Jew claimed there was no one else, but Hafiz knew that was nonsense; he would have been part of a team of commandos, Special Forces.
    How many men?
    There was a simple way to find out. The man did not yet understand the determination of Major Hafiz, but he was about to find out.
    “How many men came with you?”
    “None, I swear it.”
    The Major pulled the trigger. He watched the prisoner’s face contort in agony, although he ignored the piercing screams.
    Watching a man’s agony is so…satisfying.
    “I will ask you one more time.”
    The rest of the story came tumbling out, twenty NATO troops and two Israelis. They’d flown in an aircraft that was shot down by a Syrian missile. Did any of the others survive? The man didn’t seem to know, but he had to assume some did. In which case, he would need to hurry. His orders were to join the attack on Aleppo, but he would divert his unit to reinforce Sheikh Najjar. He would prepare a warm welcome for any enemy troops foolish enough to believe they could succeed in an assault on the facility. A welcome they would never forget for the rest of their short lives. If this man thought he knew what pain was, he was wrong. Hafiz would demonstrate real pain when he had the rest of the enemy soldiers in his hands. He felt a stirring in his groin as the images rushed through his brain. Screams, bloody bodies, gore. He didn’t know why he enjoyed it so much, but he was fatalistic about it, enough to calmly accept what he was.
    Pain is pleasure.  
    “Corporal, toss this piece of filth into the back of your truck. Then turn it around. We’re heading toward Sheikh Najjar.”
    “Sheikh Najjar?”
    Hafiz sighed.  
    Are these peasants all as stupid?
    “I won’t say it again, Corporal. Move.”
    “Sir!”
    The man rushed away, and Hafiz returned to his command jeep where his driver and radioman waited.
    “Sergeant Awad, send out a message to the column. They are to turn around and follow us into Sheikh Najjar. Quick man!”
    He leaned against the side of the vehicle and lit a cigarette while he waited for Awad to pass the word. He’d been looking forward to massacring the rebels, but this was so much better, NATO SpecialForces, no less.
    They’ll be a good catch, and this Jew will help lure them into my trap. He smiled to himself, How long before they address me as ‘Colonel’ Hafiz? Not long, surely. Not long at all.

    * * *

    They slogged across the desert sands, moving as fast as possible, so as to reach some kind of cover before the dawn’s rays betrayed them to the enemy. Talley's leg was starting to trouble him, and he swallowed Tylenol, all he would allow himself to reduce the pain without dulling his mind. But the pills had little effect, and by the time they halted just before dawn, his leg was on fire. They were in the shadow of a steep dune, and he slumped thankfully to the ground. Guy raced up to the top to survey the route ahead. He was back in a few