Read Online Chopper Ops by Mack Maloney - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Mack Maloney
Tags: Fiction, Action & Adventure
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interest as this first group of Marines got into position. Then they became aware of a second group of Marines inching their way up towards Motel Six from the opposite side of the runway. And a third group was in the process of scaling the structure's rear wall. Then, someone blew a whistle, a flash grenade went off, and the Marine assault was on. In seconds jarheads were swarming all over the structure, kicking in doors, going through windows, dropping down through holes in the roof. Norton and Delaney could hear shouting, heavy footsteps, the sizzle and pop of more flash grenades going off.
"Hey, man, this is better than the movies!" Delaney declared with a noisy slurp of his beer. "I just wish they would attack something else for a change. This particular act is getting boring."
The Marines apparently did mock assaults on Motel Six as many times a day as Norton and Delaney found themselves stuck inside the Tin Can. In other words, endlessly.
"Let's see," Delaney said. "We can call this mystery number two hundred and seventy-three. What the hell are these guys practicing for?"
Norton just shrugged. "Again, it's probably something we don't want to know."
The mock assault was over in a matter of minutes. Then the Marines started filing out again. Some of them passed right by the boat dock where Norton and Delaney sat, now drinking their third set of beers. Their blackened faces stared in at them. They looked exhausted, hot, sweaty—and most of all, thirsty.
Delaney raised his beer in a mock toast to the Marines.
"Semper fi, guys!" he called out to them. "Keep up the good work!"
The Marines growled at them, but kept moving.
"Can I tell you something, partner?" Norton said to Delaney.
"Sure . . ."
Norton watched the Marines disappear back into the palm groves.
"Something tells me we should be real nice to those guys," he said.
Before Delaney could reply, they heard someone walking down the gangplank towards their boat. Delaney quickly went to hide the beer. Not that he was afraid drinking on duty was against regulations. He simply didn't have enough to share with a third party. But this person had no interest in drinking. It was a guy named Raoul. He was one of several CIA flunkies on the island.
"I've been looking all over for you two," he said, out of breath but with relief.
"Why? Where's the fire?" Delaney asked him.
"The fire is in the Big Room," Raoul told them in cracked English. "The time has come—that's why Smitz wanted me to track you down."
"Time has come for what?" Delaney asked him, now chugging his beer in full view.
"For the briefing," Raoul said. "The big one. The one to explain whatever the hell we are all doing here."
"The 'mother of all briefings,' " Norton said, "It's finally time."
"Yeah, cool," Delaney said draining his beer. "And we get to go drunk."
Chapter 9
The Big Room was another name for the main dining area inside the restaurant on Seven Ghosts Key.
It was an odd place inside an odd place. Back when the restaurant was built, prior to the Bay of Pigs invasion, someone thought it would be clever to paint folksy native murals on the walls as one more piece in the mosaic of the island's cover story.
The result was a collection of very dated and crude paintings. A huge marlin jumping at the end of a fishing line. A crimson tropical sunset. A garish voodoo ceremony. Children playing in the surf. The murals gave the place a certain campy look, but were also weird and unsettling. One was particularly eerie. It showed three jumbo black women carrying pots on their heads on their way to market. The way the mural had been painted, they seemed to be laughing at anyone who came through the front door.
The far wall of the room contained no murals. Instead it was dominated by a huge curtain, behind which was a gigantic TV screen. Communications gear of all shapes and sizes surrounded this screen. Radio transmitters, fax machines, scramble-cable printers, a secure Internet hookup—they
"Hey, man, this is better than the movies!" Delaney declared with a noisy slurp of his beer. "I just wish they would attack something else for a change. This particular act is getting boring."
The Marines apparently did mock assaults on Motel Six as many times a day as Norton and Delaney found themselves stuck inside the Tin Can. In other words, endlessly.
"Let's see," Delaney said. "We can call this mystery number two hundred and seventy-three. What the hell are these guys practicing for?"
Norton just shrugged. "Again, it's probably something we don't want to know."
The mock assault was over in a matter of minutes. Then the Marines started filing out again. Some of them passed right by the boat dock where Norton and Delaney sat, now drinking their third set of beers. Their blackened faces stared in at them. They looked exhausted, hot, sweaty—and most of all, thirsty.
Delaney raised his beer in a mock toast to the Marines.
"Semper fi, guys!" he called out to them. "Keep up the good work!"
The Marines growled at them, but kept moving.
"Can I tell you something, partner?" Norton said to Delaney.
"Sure . . ."
Norton watched the Marines disappear back into the palm groves.
"Something tells me we should be real nice to those guys," he said.
Before Delaney could reply, they heard someone walking down the gangplank towards their boat. Delaney quickly went to hide the beer. Not that he was afraid drinking on duty was against regulations. He simply didn't have enough to share with a third party. But this person had no interest in drinking. It was a guy named Raoul. He was one of several CIA flunkies on the island.
"I've been looking all over for you two," he said, out of breath but with relief.
"Why? Where's the fire?" Delaney asked him.
"The fire is in the Big Room," Raoul told them in cracked English. "The time has come—that's why Smitz wanted me to track you down."
"Time has come for what?" Delaney asked him, now chugging his beer in full view.
"For the briefing," Raoul said. "The big one. The one to explain whatever the hell we are all doing here."
"The 'mother of all briefings,' " Norton said, "It's finally time."
"Yeah, cool," Delaney said draining his beer. "And we get to go drunk."
Chapter 9
The Big Room was another name for the main dining area inside the restaurant on Seven Ghosts Key.
It was an odd place inside an odd place. Back when the restaurant was built, prior to the Bay of Pigs invasion, someone thought it would be clever to paint folksy native murals on the walls as one more piece in the mosaic of the island's cover story.
The result was a collection of very dated and crude paintings. A huge marlin jumping at the end of a fishing line. A crimson tropical sunset. A garish voodoo ceremony. Children playing in the surf. The murals gave the place a certain campy look, but were also weird and unsettling. One was particularly eerie. It showed three jumbo black women carrying pots on their heads on their way to market. The way the mural had been painted, they seemed to be laughing at anyone who came through the front door.
The far wall of the room contained no murals. Instead it was dominated by a huge curtain, behind which was a gigantic TV screen. Communications gear of all shapes and sizes surrounded this screen. Radio transmitters, fax machines, scramble-cable printers, a secure Internet hookup—they
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