Rival of Atlantis

XII

THE NAVY TROOPERS HASTILY PROCEEDED to the UH-72 Lakota, a light utility helicopter that is capable of ground assaults or air attacks and is also used in other operations such as logistics or transport. The dinner was a welcomed diversion from the task that lies ahead of them with the ongoing offshore military exercise. They could have stayed longer in the rushed occasion but their immediate superior has already called the party over, at least for them and the two lady rescuers.

With rifles slung on their shoulders, they walked to the aircraft without caution. No one would really challenge them in a firefight in a guarded mining compound. Plus, they have eaten so much that they are not the snappy cadets that they once were.

"It is a well thrown party," the taller one with slim athletic built said as he tapped on his belly. He produced a pack of cigarette, pulled out one and lit it with a lighter.

"The dishes were well-prepared," the shorter man built with muscular frame said. "Can you believe it?" He gestured an open palm around the woody landscape before opening the pilot's door. "In the middle of the forest and they gave us a dinner worth some Wall Street hotel dining cuisine?"

If they only knew the lurking dangers in the dark, they might have forgotten all about the dinner. These troopers were trained to be tough as nails and can go battle mode in a matter of seconds. They have also experiences actions but as pilots of attack helicopters only. If they can so much take the Eurocopter in the sky, these men could be as deadly as plague. Not that they cannot fight as ground troops but not expert marksmen. Their playground is up in the sky with aircrafts capable of delivering devastation like the UH-72 Lakota.

Not too far away from the other side of the helicopter, a grey shadow is crawling towards them. The shadow is not alone too. Circumnavigating the chopper are two more shadows and they are placing a good distance from the aerial vehicle. Two other more shadows are in a safe distance from where the chopper's tail is pointed, their guns at the ready.

These five men have waited for the right opportunity to strike and clean up a dirty job they have done earlier. They were forced to return to the mining facility. This time, the guards were not subdued by tranquilizer darts but were slaughtered with knives; one was cut open at the throat while the other was stabbed five times at his chest while one of the killer's hand covering his mouth. Their leader decided to wait until the three navy men get back to the chopper. At that point, they will neutralize them, this time with the use of a deadly force. After their task at the navy troopers, it is an all the way rush to the main building complex where a bloodbath of a m******e awaits their victims.

The two shadows crept at a right distance then lied on their belly, the rifles aimed on the targets. The designated gunman aimed his rifle that looks like borrowed from some alien science fiction movie. He placed one of his eyes on the scope that has night vision capability. The red dot was aimed at the taller man's head while the target was busy puffing smoke from the cancer stick. His designated target is just beside the open door of the chopper and has his back faced towards it.

The gunman is using an Austeyr F88, an assault rifle that is made in Australia and is one of the official tactical firearms of the said country. Maybe an odd-looking variant from the Steyr Aug family, the rifle has an official affectivity at the range of 2,700 meters or 2.7 kilometers. The rifle uses 5.56 NATO rounds and can be modified further to carry a grenade launcher.

His companion was next to him and aimed his good-looking assault rifle, a G36A2, a modified version of the shorter G36C that has a reputation of being used under extreme condition which included underwater or mud. He locked the crosshairs of his scope at the same man too. One of his eyes looked through the scope just to put it away from it the very next second. "Distance, 121 meters," his voice can be heard by all five members of the team on the handsfree radio transceivers. He looked around. "Wind, twenty KPH to north-northeast."

The gunman adjusted the red dot from the head to somewhere beside the left shoulder. For a moment, he adjusted some knobs then later held the g*n on a dead still aim. "I'm on firing position and hot."

"Any second now," the third shadow croaked on the radio. He was creeping too near to the chopper and cannot give himself away. If he so much makes a crunch on the graveled ground, he knew the mission is over. Worst, his brain flies along with the bullets from the enemy. Then as if a God-sent miracle, the rotor blades of the aircraft rotated then drowned all sounds the around.

He waited long enough as the rotor blades spun faster then he crept towards the tail and later moved to a ducking position and crouched-walked around the vehicle, his back was on the chopper. He unslung a silenced M4A1, the tactical rifle often used by US and NATO forces, and aimed its barrel at the soldier who is taken into smoking.

"Sleeping pills ready," he croaked over the radio waves.

"Get them and bag them," the voice of the leader on their earplugs.

"In 3," the gunman with the Austeyr pronounced. "2, 1...." Then he squeezed the trigger and the g*n shuddered as it spat deadly bullets towards the target, hitting him with two bullets at the left shoulder, four on the left breast and five on the right, all in a straight line. Blood was sprayed in the air as the man went limp and fell down face first on the ground.

The pilot was caught in confusion as what seem to be water was splashed over him in misty sprays. When he wiped a hand on his face and neck then took a look on it, the lights on the dashboard made the fluid on his hands look like blood. He was discerning whether it is blood or an illusion done by the lights when an end of silencer appeared before his nose.

The pilot was caught in surprise and the end of a silencer was the last thing he remembered before the tsub tsub sound that sent him down the abyss of blackness. His skull was destroyed in an instant as what used to be his single brain splattered into pieces along with blood and small bone fragments all over the cockpit.

"Good night," the man with M4A1 uttered over the radio waves.

All those times, the leader and his companion have the scopes of their guns aimed at the lights. In what seem to be practiced firing, they doused a dozen of lights all in just five seconds. The exploding bulb with all the fragments and sparks caught Gillian's attention.

Without a word, the leader and his companion ran towards the chopper. They swayed their guns all around and they were later joined by the first shadow. After being satisfied that no one is around to offer them resistance, they dashed towards the two other men. They covered all directions with the barrels of their g*n as the last two men stood.

Without a word, all five men dashed to the main building complex where all other mining staff should be. A man in black polo shirt and jeans happened to get out of the main door just as they got near to it. He was greeted by three different tones of silenced fires and was left for dead as the assassins move in a speedy pace. Soon the dining area will be thrown into bloodbath and frenzy as they spray deadly ammunition on every living soul.

                                                                                         -ROA-

GILLIAN STRODE IN THE DINING area as casual as walking in a beauty pageant stage. Before rushing back, she stopped at the crate encasing Bullet Horse and rummage for useful things. The only thing that looked promising to her is their dive knives and tubular flashlights, all mysteriously piled above all other stuff. She picked the knives up, tucked it at the back of her waist, got one of the flashlights and rushed towards the dining area.

First, she studied the vastness of room for any advantage that will be of benefit. Every detail was absorbed from the twin doors at the entrance of the room to the stainless long tables draped in tablecloths. She rapped softly on the nearest stainless table and then threw her eyes around again. She noticed that the windows are glasses and noted that there are no grills before them, but a jump through them will surely break bones if not instantly kill anyone in a four story drop.

Thirty seconds of walking around is all she needed to assess the situation. She stopped near their table earlier and looked around to locate Summer. Her best friend is talking to Thomas with a sweet smile painted on her face. She strode towards them.

"So, can the US Navy get exclusive rights to make your wet submersible into production? It will be a lot of help to carry Navy Seals ashore." This is what Gillian heard when she got beside them.

"That's the first dive of Bullet Horse," Summer fired back. "You can't be serious in risking lives of special covert operations operatives at risk."

"Date's over," Gillian announced with a sharp edge of a mother catching her teen age daughter with a boy in her bedroom.

"Wha-what date?" Summer's voice is bordering a protest.

"No time to talk. On me, you two."

Summer's joyful eyes shifted to fierce. Thomas saw the transformation like seeing a pretty butterfly transform to some alien predator. Deep in Summer's mind, the pistons of her brain were sent to work in over revs. She knew Gillian since they were kids with all the exception of her stay in the US, UK and her time with the US Air Force. Her friend will not dare interrupt anything unless it is necessary. What is worse here is that she is catching a scent of life and death situation.

"Something is up," Summer said with cold steeliness. "I suggest we get unto her." Then she stood and trailed Gillian.

Gillian stopped here and there locating Ron amid all the spread individuals. For the first time, she noticed that there are at least a hundred of goers in the dinner party. When her eyes locked on Ron, she hastily strode towards him. Ron was turning to greet him with a smile when she picked him by the collar of his coat and dragged him all the way to a specific location on the floor.

She just dragged Ron all the way to the long table nearest to the twin doors that are swung wide open towards the interior of the room. Ron protested all the way of him being dragged but Gillian still went on not minding how embarrassed he is. He tried freeing himself by shaking his body wildly but it seems his collar was caught in a vice-like grip on Gillian's hands. He tried prying her hands away, but it would be easier bending round steel bars; there is no way he can free himself out of her hands.

Thomas who was puzzled on Gillian's action came next to them as they stopped. He waited for Gillian's next move. He was puzzled when she stared blankly in the air as if thinking what to do next.

She was not thinking what to do next. She was listening for any footsteps that will give away the unknown number of men that she is sure headed this way. From the entrance, a wide doorway with metal twin doors enough for mining dump trucks to go through, the main building complex has this wide working area where heavy equipment and mining vehicles are usually repaired. A maze of intertwined stairways and gangways going here and there leads to different rooms and floors at the high wall of the working area. They are in a fourth floor room and it will take time for the assailants to arrive and she is sure a loud step or two will give them away. But nothing registering as footsteps ringing on the metals came.

"You firearm, Ensign Thomas," Gillian barked at him, her hands still on Ron's collar.

For a second, Thomas thought she drank too much wine but a look at Summer, who nodded at him, sent him running towards the table where his rifle, an M4A1, is leaning. He retrieved the weapon and came dashing back to Gillian, half-puzzled on why he is obeying her orders. He looked around and found out that all of the people are in hushed silence and is looking at their direction. Even the music has already stopped playing.

"Now what?" Thomas asked still puzzled.

"Lock and load," Gillian said with air of authority.

The navy officer put a round in the chamber as Charlie along with the Assistant Operations Officer, Martinez, walked towards them. Charlie was raising both of his open palms towards Gillian as if a negotiator in a hostage-taking incident.

"Talk or we all die," Gillian barked at Ron.

"D-die?" Ron was sent in further puzzlement. "Ta-talk, what? What are you saying?"

"The tunnel collapsing and water rising is no accident," Gillian said in tone that further sent the room in a deeper silence. If there is more of a silence in silent that you can only hear your own breathing and heart beat, that is it. "The building where the generators were in was wrapped in fire. Your guards thought of dreaming seeing one of them drops when they both fell asleep amid the chaos. A deep gush is cut on your fence." She paused to let it all sink down while at the same time listen. A soft reverberation was emanating from gangway leading to the door. "Now there are men coming here to kill you or all of us. Why?"

"Ki-kill? Men coming here to kill. What men?"

She reached for one of the dive knives in the back of her waist, the sheath left on her shorts. For a second all people thought she is going to stab the COO. But the truth, her eyes caught a movement right at the door. With a quick glance at the door she saw a man aiming a silenced rifle in the room. Her hands made their move and let the dive knife fly in the air towards the first assailant.

The assailant was caught in surprise when something flew in his direction. He was caught in confusion on whether to fire or dodge. None of it was performed and the flying knife came shooting towards him, the pointed tip burying first on his Adam's apple then all the way to the hilt. He was falling when his knees turned to jelly while his voice got tangled in his destroyed vocal chords as blood flooded his throat.

"Those men," Gillian said with a stress as the man fell down on his knees then later face first on the doorway. She instantly ducked down as her hands went on the edge of the table and under. She threw the long table on its sides, the stainless top covered with thick stainless plate is facing the doorway. Glasses and plates broke on their crash to the floor as spoons, forks and table knives rung in different metallic sounds too.

"What the hell," Martinez uttered as he hastily dashed towards the man thinking it was one of the guards. The grey garments registered in his mind too late when he was out of the doorway. Soft tsub tsub sounds invaded the silent air as Martinez was almost torn to shreds while sprinkles of blood were sent in almost all direction with some chunks of meat.

Gillian instantly grabbed Ron's head and forced him to duck down in the cover of the table along with her. Thomas and Summer ducked down by instinct too. Charlie was still puzzled that he still got the luxury to look around.

"Throw the tables on their sides and cover yourselves," Summer ordered to the people around acting as spectators. In an instant, the room was thrown into frenzy as tables were thrown at their sides. Breaking plates and scattering utensils filled the room.

"Stay there and get down," Summer shouted at those near a wall along the doorway while pointing at the floor. The people obeyed in silence and went down the floor. "Now come here," she whispered more than a dozen times to them.

Thomas laid his rifle on the top edge of the table, its barrel aimed at the doorway. Any sign that someone is going in, he will gladly squeeze the trigger. His only worst fear is about some fragmented or stun grenades. He saw Charlie at the corner of his eyes ducking behind the table for dear life when he remembered his two men. "My men."

"I think," Summer looked at him. "That your men are dead."

Thomas listened. The thumps of the rotor blades against the air are still evident and he is sure that the chopper is already in idle. If his men are still alive, they may have come to him just a little bit later than Gillian.

"Those men are here to kill you," Gillian said to Ron. "Or anyone in your staff. Possibly all of you now. Why?"

"I don't know," Ron said, his eyes darting down on the floor.

"The truth."

"I really don't know."

"Tell me or we leave you here for dead."

"The mysterious aircraft," Charlie said behind Gillian.

"What aircraft?" Gillian turned to Charlie.

"In the tunnel."

"Is it possible?" Ron asked no one in particular. Gillian turned around to read disbelief in his eyes.

"Do both of you promise to show it to me if we all come out of this alive?" He simultaneously looked at them and received nods.

"Plans boss?" Summer asked.

"Plans? This...."