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It seemed as though the world was on fire. Wood and siding ripped from the trailers that made up the majority of the barracks were piled in courtyards and parade grounds burning. The substance of the soldiers' homes was being consumed to warm the autumn night.
Small groups wandered everywhere, some of them bearing bottles, others smoking fragrant substances. From the darkness a squeal told of other pleasures being dispensed. Since it sounded consensual, Pappas ignored it. He frankly was not sure what he would do if it were not consensual. The mission was to find and join up with their unit. Once they were attached things would get easier. Or so he hoped.
He gestured for second squad to stop and the platoon to form a perimeter. The troops dropped into position in the shadowed area, a variety of bludgeons clutched in their hands, as the squad leaders joined him at the center. He pulled the map out of his cargo pocket and gestured for them to look at it in the flickering light of distant fires.
"To get to our initial objective, which is where the MPs think the battalion is at, we have to pass through there." He gestured through the buildings at a parade ground. The point was marked on the map as a former heliport. From where they crouched in the darkness it was obvious that the area was some sort of meeting ground. There was a giant party in full swing with numerous bonfires and large groups were wandering around. There were easily a thousand people, males and females, in the area.
"We might not run into any opposition, but, then again, we might. We could swing around, but it would take us well out of our way and sooner or later we're go
"How 'bout we just run through, like we're doing PT?" asked Michaels. "They're less likely to bother a formation, don't you think, Gu
Stewart snorted. "See anybody doing PT?" he asked.
Adams shook his head. "I gotta go with Stewart on this one, man. I don't think anybody around here does PT. We'd stick out like a sore thumb."
"And if we bunch up, we might look like a threat," pointed out Stewart. He had his eyes narrowed.
"Okay, we'll —" started Pappas.
"Gu
"Okay," said the gu
"I think me and the boys could draw some of them off," the private said. His eyes were on the distant party as his brow creased in thought. "We could probably open up a hole, kind of a corridor, and the rest of you could slip through."
"How?" Pappas watched the private thinking. He had already recognized that while he had the recruit beat on experience and knowledge, the private was light-years ahead of him on guile and cu
"By joining them," continued Stewart. He seemed oblivious to the sergeant's close regard. "Look, just about all of us in second are from a barrio," continued the little private. "We're all home-boys; this is like, home, for us. We'd be in the middle of that and loving every minute of it," he gestured to the party, "if we didn't have an idea why not." He turned and looked at the NCO with newfound respect in his eyes. "Your speech makes more sense now than ever."
The NCO nodded in understanding. "Go on."
"But we can . . . infiltrate that party. I've got some pretty good attention getters, circus tricks I've learned. I can attract some of them around me and the boys. That will open up the hole you need."
"And if it don't work?" asked Pappas.
"We all run like hell," smiled the private.
Pappas gazed at him thoughtfully. "When will you get to the unit?" he asked. The suspicion was obvious.
Stewart shook his head in reproach. "Gu
Pappas nodded his head and regarded the private sagely. "Uh, huh." He puffed out his cheeks in thought. "You know Stewart, some day I'm going to have to ask you how you got your entire street gang through Fleet Strike's perso
Stewart smiled thinly. "But not tonight," he said determinedly.
"Not tonight," the NCO agreed. "However, I'm not going to trust to your streetwise for everything. Once we pass through the area we'll take up over-watch until I think you're doing okay. Don't hurry, we'll be there as long as we need to."
"I'll be fine, Sergeant," said the private, with quiet confidence.
"Okay, then you won't mind if we watch?" Pappas said with a smile.
Stewart shook his head in resignation. "Whatever, boss."
"Okay," said the NCO, "time to play."
* * *
Stewart wiped his hands surreptitiously on his silks then stepped forward and slapped the broad shoulder of the soldier in front of him.
"Hola, 'migo, ¿dónde 'stá el licor?" The job was going to require some high-proof spirits.
The big Hispanic soldier turned with a snarl. "Que chingadero quiere saber, cameron?"
"Hey, we just got here. I need a drink." A twenty appeared as if by magic in Stewart's hand. The squad behind him had taken on the standard swagger, hands thrust into their belts or in pockets, hips thrust out, looking around. Just a bunch of home-boys looking for a party. Stewart had thrust the two broomsticks into the back of his jacket so that they jutted out the neck. In a pinch they would be in action in an instant.
The big soldier took one look at the gang and rethought his approach. He had his own group of bullies to call on, but the time was not right for a fight against unknown odds. He was pretty sure he could break the shrimp like a twig, but you never knew. He looked awful confident.
"It's hard to find, man," the big soldier said, taking a swallow of the raw tequila. "Maracone over by the bleachers, he usually got some."
"Gracias," said Stewart, the twenty suddenly sprouting from the pocket of the Hispanic soldier.
"De nada," said the trooper and turned back to his buddies.
"Anything?" whispered Wilson.
"Had a shiv," said Stewart quietly, "and some kind of pistol."
"Had," smiled the second in command.
"Had," said Stewart, with a complete lack of humor. He was totally concentrated on the mission. "We're go
Even at halfway across the field the dealer was obvious, a ratty little private surrounded by heavies and a group of female soldiers with their uniforms cut down to nothing but midriff tops and shorts. They must have been freezing in the cool, moist autumn night.
"Okay," said Wilson, doing an automatic sweep of the area for threats. Then he checked to see that the rest of the squad was in position, looking out. They were and he nodded to himself in satisfaction; everything was rikky-tik as the gu
"Then I'm go
"Got it."
"Here." He slipped the private the small pistol. Using Stewart as a shield, the private quickly checked the .25 caliber automatic. "Cover me."
Stewart stepped toward the dealer. One of the bodyguards stepped in front of him only to be waved aside. It was a pro forma demonstration of power that Stewart noticed no more than the wind. Now that he was inside the perimeter the dealer and at least two guards were dead even without Wilson's backup. These guys are such fucking amateurs, he thought.