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Da
“Time is on our side,” said Roma after they took cover.
“We will have them surrounded as soon as our reinforcements arrive.”
Had the guerrillas mounted a concentrated attack on one of the flanks, they might have been able to break through. But within ten minutes another platoon of soldiers arrived; a few minutes later, another.
The house sat in the middle of well-cleared plot of land, with good lines of fire for the army soldiers as they clustered behind vehicles and other cover. There would be no way for the guerrillas to escape this time. Their only hope would be some sort of negotiated surrender.
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Along with the reinforcements, senior officers began to arrive: first a company captain, then a major; before an hour passed, a colonel arrived and took charge.
Roma introduced him to Da
“This is something new,” Oz told Da
“That’s why we’re here.”
“There are five girls in the house,” said Oz. “The neighbors say they have a grandmother and an uncle living with them as well. From five to fifteen. Girls.” The colonel shook his head. “I
“Maybe you can get them to release them.”
Oz frowned. “One of my men has already tried calling the house. No answer.”
“Can we wait them out?”
“What other choice do we have?”
About a half hour later two armored perso
The rear ramp of the vehicle Oz had gotten into slammed open. The colonel emerged, a microphone in his hand.
“What’s he saying?” Da
“Telling them they have to surrender,” said the lieutenant.
“He’s giving them a phone number they can call to talk to us.”
The colonel paused, evidently waiting for an answer. When none came, he repeated his warning and plea.
This time there was an answer—an explosion so violent it knocked Da
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183
Aboard EB-52 Be
above northeastern Romania
2235
EVEN THOUGH ZEN KNEW BETTER, THE EXPLOSION THAT
rocked the house was so intense that for a second he thought the Be
“Colonel, you see that?” Zen asked.
“I have it on screen,” said Dog dryly.
“They blew themselves up. Shit.”
“All right, Zen. Tell Da
Near Tutova, northeastern Romania
2237
BY THE TIME DANNY RECOVERED, THE FIREBALL HAD FALLEN
back into the ruins. Smoke and dust filled the air. All he could hear was the low rumble of the motor from one of the perso
Then the screaming began. A loud wail went up, as if all the world had begun to cry at once. A dozen men had been hit by shrapnel and were seriously wounded. Another two or three had been killed outright.
What remained of the house was on fire. The glow turned the night orange, casting long shadows around the yard. The Romanian soldiers began to move toward their comrades who had been wounded.
“Groundhog, are you all right?” asked Zen.
“Groundhog. Affirmative.”
“What the hell happened? It looked like a piece of hell opened up.”
The only thing Da
DALE BROWN’S DREAMLAND
augmented their power with something they found in the house, natural gas, maybe.
“I heard there were kids in the house,” Da
“God.”
“I’ll get back to you.”
Though he didn’t have a med kit, Da
The first man he reached had been hit in the leg by a large piece of metal. The wound wasn’t deep. Da
The next man was dead, killed by a large piece of wood that had slit his neck and its arteries wide open.
Oz was sitting on the ground behind the APC, dazed.
The shock had thrown him off the open ramp of the carrier and he’d struck his head. His pupils seemed to react to the flashlight Da
Lieutenant Roma walked up as Da
“You see what kind of people we’re up against, the criminals,” said Roma. He had tears in his eyes. “Devils. Worse.
Killers of children.”
“It’s horrible.”
“They’re slime,” said Roma. “Cowards.”
“Yes,” said Da
Roma crumpled.
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Da
“Roma? Roma?” he said.
The lieutenant didn’t answer. He wasn’t breathing. He had no pulse.
Da
When ten minutes had passed and both men could no longer pretend there was still hope, they looked at each other for a moment. Then slowly Da
IV
Burnt Wood and Flesh
U.S. Embassy, Bucharest
26 January 1998
0410
STONER RUBBED THE SLEEP FROM HIS EYES AS HE LOOKED
at the photo of the house and the aftermath of the guerrillas’
explosion. There was a torso in the foreground. The other photo showed a baby’s arm clutched around a doll.
The American ambassador to Romania pushed the rest of the photos toward the far side of his desk, no longer able to look at them. The ambassador, rarely seen in public without a tie, wore a hooded yellow sweatshirt and a pair of old jeans, as if he were going to work on his car when they were done.
“Pretty gruesome, I’d say.” The ambassador shook his head. “Bastards.”
“Yeah,” said Russ Fairchild, the CIA station chief. “This is what they’re up against.”
“Was it the Russians or the guerrillas?” asked the ambassador.
“Had to be the Russians,” said Fairchild. “That much explosives?”
Stoner leaned forward and took the rest of the photos.
Fairchild was probably right about the source of the explosives. But the description of the operation he’d heard from the Dreamland people made it sound too amateurish for Spetsnaz.
He flipped through the pictures, which had been taken 190
DALE BROWN’S DREAMLAND
by the Romanian army on the scene. The guerrillas were in pieces, their bodies shattered when the explosives blew.
Stoner found a severed leg. He slipped the picture onto the ambassador’s desk.