They had chosen to bring the technical. If anything went down, Harvath wanted the extra firepower. Before leaving the safe house, they had done a full inventory of its contents and divided them up between the two vehicles.
In addition to the .50 caliber machine gun mounted in the bed, the Hilux pickup also contained five hundred rounds of .50 cal ammunition, a Russian KBP LPO-97 pump-action grenade launcher with three thermobaric rounds, an RPG-7 shoulder-fired rocket-propelled grenade launcher with two PG-7VL grenades, and one thousand rounds of 7.62 x 39mm ammunition suitable for feeding the three AK-47s they had taken off the dead militia members earlier that day.
For once, Murphy had paid the bad guys a visit. Harvath was happy to profit from their loss. The question now was whether Murphy would stay out of their way long enough so that he and his team could parlay this small advantage into a win.
One of the biggest things concerning Harvath was that even though they were all experienced operators, they actually had very little experience operating together.
Extra training would have fixed that, but with the clock ticking, the CIA couldn’t invest in any. Part of Harvath’s responsibility was figuring out how to make it work. It was why he had been chosen, and why he had been given this team. As had been drummed into him in the SEAL Teams, failure wasn’t an option. He had to adapt and overcome.
Dosing the shopkeeper with another round of ketamine, they had departed the safe house.
With Haney and Morrison in the technical, Harvath, Staelin, Gage, and Barton had followed in the Land Cruiser.
Two miles out from the compound, they pulled off the road and into the desert.
The terrain was flat. There were no hills, no gullies, no stands of trees—no place to hide their vehicles. If not for the pitch darkness caused by the absence of the moon, it would have been like putting up a billboard announcing their arrival.
They had pulled the fuses for their taillights back at the safe house. Killing their headlights and instrument lights, they now carefully piloted the vehicles with only their night vision goggles to see by.
Once they got as close as they dared, they stopped and turned off the engines. Overhead, the Reaper monitored the smuggler’s compound and kept Harvath apprised of any movement.
His plan had been to hit the compound while Halim and his men were asleep. The only movement the drone had picked up was more than an hour ago. A man had stepped out of the guesthouse, smoked a cigarette, and returned inside. Since then, there had been nothing else. So far, so good.
Climbing out of the vehicles and gathering at the rear of the technical, they quietly gave their equipment a final check.
On such short notice, the CIA had done an admirable job. In addition to getting them into Libya, it had secured the safe house, arranged their primary vehicles, and provided a decent array of gear.
In addition to helmets and night vision goggles, there were six suppressed M4 rifles, all complete with red dot sights and infrared lasers.
In the sidearm department, it had been a grab bag, but no less impressive. Harvath still had his H&K from earlier, Gage and Staelin had called dibs on the two 1911s, Barton had chosen the Sig Sauer, and Marines Haney and Morrison had each snatched up a Beretta 92.
Despite most of the equipment being second-hand, the communications gear was top-notch. It was all cutting-edge, fully encrypted, and the absolute best available.
With the drone as their only backup, Harvath had insisted the team up their combat load. As a result, they had all stuffed their chest rigs with as many extra magazines as they could carry.
Once everyone was ready, Harvath gave the signal and they crept soundlessly toward the compound.
CHAPTER 24
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Gage was the team’s designated marksman. And though Harvath had submitted a detailed equipment list ahead of time, not everything he had asked for was available.
In particular, Gage had requested a SOCOM MK-13 sniper rifle in .300 WinMag. He wanted a powerful weapon with a solid round that would take care of business in any situation.
But when they arrived, there was no sniper rifle with their gear. Either someone hadn’t gotten the message, or they just weren’t able to get their hands on one. Gage would have to make do with what he had.
Just before the team reached the fence at the back of the warehouse, he peeled off. He did a quick sweep for scorpions and any other potential surprises, then lowered himself to the ground and settled in behind his rifle.
With their overwatch in position, Harvath radioed the drone team for a SITREP.
“Negative movement at the compound. Negative movement at the warehouse,” came the response.
“Good copy. Roger that.” Harvath replied, as he then signaled for the rest of the team to approach the fence.
Along with the gear the CIA had provided, there had been a small breacher’s kit. It should have included bolt cutters, or at the very least a pair of Channellock cutting pliers. Instead, all they had was a Leatherman tool.
Harvath took one look at the gauge of the fence and waved Morrison forward. Handing him the Leatherman, he motioned for him to get to work.
The fence was fabricated from heavy, galvanized steel. With such a small tool, it took a ton of force to cut through the links. It was a bear of a job. At least once, Harvath could have sworn he caught Morrison mouthing the words Fuck you at him. He smiled and continued to scan the area for threats.
There were no guards and no foot patrols. In all likelihood, Halim either didn’t have the manpower, or didn’t think it necessary to post an around-the-clock watch. Big mistake.
When Morrison had opened a hole large enough for them to slide through, he handed the Leatherman back. Harvath offered him a fist bump, knowing the young Marine’s hands had to be killing him. Instead of responding in kind, Morrison gave him the finger. Off to his right, Haney suppressed a laugh.
On Harvath’s command, one by one they climbed through and took up positions at the rear of the building.
The large roll-up door was locked with a heavy padlock. Even if he’d had a pair of bolt cutters, he wouldn’t have bothered. There was no telling exactly who was on the other side, or how much noise it would have made.
Instead, their objective was a pedestrian door on the north side of the structure.
With confirmation from the Reaper that the coast was clear, Harvath snuck a peek around the corner of the building and then led his team forward.
At the pedestrian door, he gave the command for everyone to stop, and then he tried the knob. He had lost count of how many times he had been in some of the world’s shittiest, most dangerous places and doors had been left completely unlocked. That wasn’t the case here.
Letting his rifle hang against his chest, he removed a set of picks from the breacher’s kit and went to work on the lock. Twenty seconds later, he had it open. Pulling back the door, he stood aside to let the team pour in.