Page 26 of The Fourth Option
“Where’s the entrance?”
The Zero Unit men were already hoisting their prisoner to his feet.
“He will take us to it.”
The prisoner was marched down the stairs naked and crying. Walker almost felt sorry for him.
He led them to a living room withtoshaks, floor pillows, and back pillows lining two of the walls. A large iron chest was against another wall. It had been opened by a Zero Unit operator in a quick clearance. It held plates, bowls, mugs, and utensils.
“Show us,” Ali said in Pashto. They had learned the hard way that anything could be rigged to explode.
The naked man bent forward and grabbed a handle on one side of the iron box. He struggled to lift it and pull it aside to reveal a hinged wooden trapdoor.
Ali looked to the Zero Unit squadron commander, who nodded.
“Slowly,” Ali said in Pashto, indicating that the prisoner should open it.
Shaking, the man knelt and dug his fingers into a groove cut into the floor on the side opposite the hinge, and lifted.
Unsuppressed, the rifle firing from below on full auto seemed to shake the room as the 7.62x39 rounds tore through the naked prisoner, stitching him from his groin, up his torso, and into his head, which snapped back. He then fell forward, gravity pulling him into the underground shaft.
Two Zero Unit operators began firing back through the top of the wood door as another pulled a grenade from a pouch and crept forward. As the two shooters ran dry, he pulled up what was left of the trap door and tossed the grenade into the darkness, letting the door fall back into place. An explosion followed.
The squadron commander told his shooters to hold on the door and turned to the two Americans.
“Flexing to new target,” he said, in broken but understandable English.
As Walker opened his mouth to respond, they heard the unmistakable sound of suppressed 7.62 rounds of Nate’s snipers.
Nate’s voice cracked through the Americans’ headsets, still calm but now with added edge.“Tangos inbound from the house to the east. Dropped three. Others took the alley, coming at you.”
“Shit!” Walker said.
“Here we go,” Staub responded.
Walker turned to the squadron commander. “Snipers took out three tangos moving on this house.”
“We will reconstitute in the courtyard and break out under the cover of our security element.”
That would have been Walker’s call too.
The Afghan officer moved toward the front of the house barking orders in Pashto into his radio.
“A little spicier night than we expected,” Staub said.
“No shit,” Walker replied.
They exited into the courtyard with the assault force. They had left two men behind to hold on the trapdoor, another two in the hallway leading to the front. Two more would stay in the courtyard.
With a clear line of sight to the heavens, Walker keyed his mic. “Raptor, what do you see?”
“Three dead tangos in the street to the east. Security element has pushed and taken up positions on the new target house. No squirters.”
“Roger. Psycho, you copy that?”
“Loud and clear. We are spread pretty thin, but have both houses in an L. Move when ready.”
“Good copy.”
