Free Echo Six: Black Ops 6 - Battle for Beirut by Eric Meyer Page A

to survive. Although the main areas are under control of separate, well-defined factions, the battle lines are fluid. You always need to look ahead, and to listen to local gossip. A friendly street one day can be a death trap on the next."
    "Have you lived here for long?"
    "About ten years. More than enough to know your plan to enter the Hezbollah Headquarters is foolhardy. You're not dealing with amateurs. These people invented terrorism. They know every trick in the book."
    "Maybe we can show them some new ones."
    Goldstein gave him skeptical glance. "Or maybe they'll kill you."
    He was about to reply when the other man pointed ahead. "It's that street over there. After we make the turn, the building is about two hundred meters on the right. I'll drive past, so you can see what you're up against."
    He swung the VW bus through the intersection and drove along a street that was even more battle scarred than most others he'd seen on the way into the city. Entire buildings reduced to rubble by shellfire, and storefronts closed and shuttered. Abandoned vehicles, some of them burned out, lined the road, and the only building that appeared intact was their destination.
    It was a modest, four-story office block, with the inevitable mosque next door. Outside the main doors, the owners had established a sandbagged machine gun post, and he identified a Russian PK machine gun on a bipod, deployed to cover the street. Two men manned it, a gunner and a loader. There were also two sentries outside the door, armed with AK-47s, and they watched the VW carefully as it drove past.
    "If you're hoping to take them unawares, you're mistaken," Goldstein told him, "The people in that building are fanatics, and they take their security very seriously."
    "What about the back way?"
    "The entire rear of the building has been bricked up. There's no way in."
    He drove around the corner so they were out of sight of the sentries, and stopped. Talley turned to Buchmann.
    "It looks like we'll go in through the roof. I prefer to do it in after dark, but time is not on our side. Any ideas?"
    "They're all flat, these roofs, so we should be able to cross them with ease."
    The Jew was shaking his head. "The roof is also guarded. I've seen aerial surveillance photos, and they always have a man up there. He'll probably be stationed next to the elevator shaft, partly in shadow, so be careful. The moment he sees anyone approaching, he'll open fire, and they'll have a score of armed men up there before you get anywhere near."
    "In that case, we'll make sure he doesn't see us." He pointed to an archway that led into a courtyard, "We'll go in through there and find a stairway to the roof. It would be useful if you waited for us."
    Goldstein sighed. "I will wait here. I can open the hood and pretend I have engine trouble."
    "It's appreciated." Talley looked up and down the street, but it was still very early. The street was empty, except for the occasional truck that drove past. They waited until the last vehicle had disappeared out of sight, and then he threw open the door and climbed out. Buchmann followed him across the sidewalk, and they dived into the archway.
    They were hidden in the shadows, and he waited and listened for anyone nearby. There was weird Arabic music playing softly some distance away, and a baby was crying. Apart from that, there was nothing. He nodded toward the staircase.
    "Let's go, but when we reach the top, take it slow. We need to check the roof out. We're only four buildings away from Hezbollah, and that sentry could spot us."
    "Roger that. If we meet someone on the staircase, do I kill them?" Buchmann asked.
    He grimaced. The German had proved himself more than useful in countless engagements. He was immensely strong, almost like a light tank fighting on your side. But Heinrich Buchmann was also a throwback to his German ancestors, the Nazi stormtroopers that rampaged through Europe during the Second World War. His capacity for brutality was