Free Target Deck - 02 by Jack Murphy Page B

take as part of the entrance exam.
    “You know the deal. Afghanistan, Iraq, and a few other places. I probably worked the intel piece for a few of your missions,” he said to Deckard. “I got out a couple years ago and did contract work.”
    “Where?”
    “Back in Afghanistan. I lived as a kuchi with a native family.”
    “Bullshit.” The kuchis were nomadic people who roamed the wastelands of Afghanistan.
    “No really man. I spoke the language, I'm brown, and with a Bin Laden beard I look just like one of them. I had a female Afghani intelligence agent pose as my wife and we took in a couple orphan kids to travel with us in our caravan to complete the picture. We moved all over Southern Afghanistan collecting intelligence for our clients.”
    “Sounds pretty rough.”
    “You got no idea man, I feel like a stranger in my own country every time I return home.”
    “Okay,” Deckard said making a decision. “You're hired. I'll give you a couple hours to come up with a list of what you need and then you can interface with Samantha, our local police liaison, and you can start working on building an intelligence network-”
    “That's cool. I will coordinate with her and whatever sources she has. For now just give me a new car and I'll roll.”
    “What?”
    “Here you go hoss,” Pat said walking up from behind as he tossed a set of car keys to Aghassi. “Take the white Toyota, it will blend in on the streets here.”
    “Thanks bud.”
    “You sure about that?” Deckard asked Pat.
    Pat shrugged.
    “Let's see what he can do.”

13

    A triple strand of det-chord formed a flex linear charge that was affixed diagonally across the front door of the single story building that served as living space and a headquarters for one of the many drug gangs that inhabited Oaxaca City. It exploded in a shower of debris that woke people from their beds several blocks away. Mothers hid with their children under beds. Mexico was a war zone and they knew what would come next. This was their reality.
    Deckard stepped out of his Iveco assault truck as he watched four Samruk International assault teams storm the compound, swarming through the now empty door frame. In moments, it was all over. Not a shot had been fired.
    “Six this is Zhen,” the Platoon Sergeant's voice crackled over his MBITR radio. Zhenis had received a battlefield promotion to his rank like Fedorchenko. Now Zhen ran second platoon while Fed ran first.
    “Go ahead.”
    “Objective secured. Five fighting age males, no civilians. Initiating our search.”
    “Roger that, Zhen.”
    “Zhen out.”
    Deckard changed channels and reported their status up to Cody back at the OPCEN. Samruk functioned very well on a system of merit based ranks in which those with greater responsibility drew higher pay. However, they didn't have any real Officers in the Private Military Company. It was a Sergeant's game and they liked it that way. Still, Deckard now found himself playing the role of Platoon Leader while Zhenis was busy leading his men.
    Deckard had to be the one thinking several steps ahead. Where were they going next, how would they get there, and how would they respond to any roadblocks thrown up in their way? This was his responsibility.
    Several assaulters popped up on the roof to pull security and watch for any enemy counter-attack.
    Striding up to the doorway, Deckard watched the Kazakh mercenaries flexcuff and blindfold each prisoner one by one before patting them down and segregating them from each other. Cell phones, a few pistols, and other assorted pocket litter was found between the five prisoners. When one of them began to complain as he was pushed down onto his knees against the wall, one of the Kazakhs jabbed him in the ribs with his rifle barrel and barked at him in Russian.
    “Six, you might want to take a look at this,” Zhen said over the assault net.
    “What is it?”
    “Found something in the back yard.”
    Deckard walked through the house as the