enemy’s eye. Dabir watched as each man found his spot, halfway down the hill and flanking the men who still looked for Dabir’s team to come from the west.
Dabir used the binoculars to confirm they would not be caught off guard when he began the assault. Then he waited another ten minutes before commencing the attack.
Part of the money he’d accumulated over the years had gone toward the purchase of several items whose purpose made engagements like this easier. And so when he launched the SL-2500 rocket toward one of the trucks, he took pleasure in knowing that his enemy’s bosses had financed their own demise.
The truck went up with a single concussive blast, and Dabir saw the man next to it, the one he took for the leader, tossed through the air like a child’s doll. Next, the air became filled with the reports of his men’s guns, cutting down whoever they could. Others dove behind the remaining vehicles for cover.
Dabir signaled his associate to open up with the NSV they’d dismounted from the jeep. It wasn’t until the first salvo had taken out another three men that those left standing began to return fire, and despite the fact that they’d been caught off guard, there were marksmen in their midst.
The first of the rounds struck the ridgeline where Dabir sat, likely following the now-dispersed rocket trail. They were close enough to cause him to pull back. Among experienced combatants, the element of surprise seldom granted more than a temporary advantage, and he suspected it was now spent. Nonetheless, the enemy occupied a bowl, with Dabir’s men positioned on the rim of that bowl.
He shuffled forward on his elbows, raising the rocket launcher to his shoulder. It took him but a second to acquire a target, one of the two remaining vehicles pulling away from the kill zone. He led the truck but didn’t anticipate its sudden acceleration and came close to missing it. Instead of hitting the engine as he’d planned, the missile turned the cab into an inferno.
—
Excepting the failed assault against the Americans, Dabir made it a point not to leave one of his own behind. Shuul would travel with them back to Hadar, wrapped in a blanket in the back of the jeep. His brother would collect the body, as well as the money Standish/Canfield provided for such an eventuality. Dabir would say a blessing for the dead man and then he would leave the family alone to grieve.
Dabir sat down and used a knife to cut away his shredded pant leg from the knee down. The grenade that killed Shuul had also sent shrapnel into Dabir’s leg. Not a life-threatening injury, but in the desert, even a simple cut could worsen in a short time. From the first-aid kit in his pack he pulled out alcohol, antibiotic ointment, and bandages. The process took only a few minutes. When he’d finished he stood and made his way down the hill, joining the two men who stood near the remaining, relatively intact Hummer, admiring the vehicle despite the countless holes, shattered glass, and human remains.
While Dabir had been working on his injury, his men had been gathering the dead men’s weapons, money, and any identifying paper work. Dabir flipped through it all, stopping at one item. It was a passport belonging to the man Dabir suspected to have been the leader. He guessed the passport to be a fake. Still, Standish/Canfield would know.
Dabir crossed the darkened desert and stopped at the man’s body. A quick scan revealed that while his men had already taken the rifle, they’d missed the knife. Dabir knelt and removed it from its sheath and held it up to the moonlight. The blade flashed beneath it.
Despite the worsening throb in his leg, he leaned over the dead man and placed the passport on his chest. Then, using the knife as a pushpin, he slammed it first through the passport and then through the body cavity.
Standish would see; he would know. By then Dabir and the money would be gone.
He had the men gather what weapons they could
Dabir used the binoculars to confirm they would not be caught off guard when he began the assault. Then he waited another ten minutes before commencing the attack.
Part of the money he’d accumulated over the years had gone toward the purchase of several items whose purpose made engagements like this easier. And so when he launched the SL-2500 rocket toward one of the trucks, he took pleasure in knowing that his enemy’s bosses had financed their own demise.
The truck went up with a single concussive blast, and Dabir saw the man next to it, the one he took for the leader, tossed through the air like a child’s doll. Next, the air became filled with the reports of his men’s guns, cutting down whoever they could. Others dove behind the remaining vehicles for cover.
Dabir signaled his associate to open up with the NSV they’d dismounted from the jeep. It wasn’t until the first salvo had taken out another three men that those left standing began to return fire, and despite the fact that they’d been caught off guard, there were marksmen in their midst.
The first of the rounds struck the ridgeline where Dabir sat, likely following the now-dispersed rocket trail. They were close enough to cause him to pull back. Among experienced combatants, the element of surprise seldom granted more than a temporary advantage, and he suspected it was now spent. Nonetheless, the enemy occupied a bowl, with Dabir’s men positioned on the rim of that bowl.
He shuffled forward on his elbows, raising the rocket launcher to his shoulder. It took him but a second to acquire a target, one of the two remaining vehicles pulling away from the kill zone. He led the truck but didn’t anticipate its sudden acceleration and came close to missing it. Instead of hitting the engine as he’d planned, the missile turned the cab into an inferno.
—
Excepting the failed assault against the Americans, Dabir made it a point not to leave one of his own behind. Shuul would travel with them back to Hadar, wrapped in a blanket in the back of the jeep. His brother would collect the body, as well as the money Standish/Canfield provided for such an eventuality. Dabir would say a blessing for the dead man and then he would leave the family alone to grieve.
Dabir sat down and used a knife to cut away his shredded pant leg from the knee down. The grenade that killed Shuul had also sent shrapnel into Dabir’s leg. Not a life-threatening injury, but in the desert, even a simple cut could worsen in a short time. From the first-aid kit in his pack he pulled out alcohol, antibiotic ointment, and bandages. The process took only a few minutes. When he’d finished he stood and made his way down the hill, joining the two men who stood near the remaining, relatively intact Hummer, admiring the vehicle despite the countless holes, shattered glass, and human remains.
While Dabir had been working on his injury, his men had been gathering the dead men’s weapons, money, and any identifying paper work. Dabir flipped through it all, stopping at one item. It was a passport belonging to the man Dabir suspected to have been the leader. He guessed the passport to be a fake. Still, Standish/Canfield would know.
Dabir crossed the darkened desert and stopped at the man’s body. A quick scan revealed that while his men had already taken the rifle, they’d missed the knife. Dabir knelt and removed it from its sheath and held it up to the moonlight. The blade flashed beneath it.
Despite the worsening throb in his leg, he leaned over the dead man and placed the passport on his chest. Then, using the knife as a pushpin, he slammed it first through the passport and then through the body cavity.
Standish would see; he would know. By then Dabir and the money would be gone.
He had the men gather what weapons they could
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