Read Online Target Deck - 02 by Jack Murphy - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jack Murphy
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the cartels.
Keeping his war belt on, Deckard slung the AK-103 over a shoulder and headed out. He needed a cup of coffee. What he really needed was a few hours sleep but there was a war to fight and Samruk was working on a very limited time line.
Stepping out into the hall, Deckard's footsteps echoed down the empty halls. When he came to Ortega's arms room, he stopped at the door to look inside. Nikita stood with his back to the door. He was running a cleaning rod down the barrel of a massive .50 caliber Barrett Anti-Material rifle. It was one of the many weapons that they had liberated from Ortega.
Sadly, the large bore rifle was nothing more than a show piece to the cartel. It was just an expression of machismo, they hadn't even bothered to attach a scope to it. Nikita would give the rifle a cleaning, get the rifle zeroed, and put it to use. Use the enemy's weapons against them, it was the perfect battlefield recovery.
Nikita slowly turned his head to look over his shoulder at Deckard. His eyes were cold, his face expressionless.
Deckard moved along. Now wasn't the time.
Several months ago they had stood together on the deck of the Crown of the Pacific. It had been a super-cruise liner that had sunk to the depths of the Pacific Ocean. By that point they were both barely on their feet, wounded by the fight of and for their lives. Samruk International had been put through the meat grinder, reduced from a full battalion to only a few platoons.
For reasons that confounded those who remained, they had survived the ordeal. Samruk had pulled off the impossible but it wasn't pretty. Their bodies had slowly healed, but Deckard knew that Nikita's mind had never really left that ship as it slipped beneath the waves towards the ocean floor.
Crossing the courtyard, Deckard looked over the security positions on his way. Pairs of Samruk mercenaries stood guard at intervals along the compound walls. They were still in the process of building up fighting positions with sandbags, bricks, and mortar. RPG launchers and PKM machine guns had been assigned to each position. So far, so good.
Entering Ortega's mansion, Deckard weaved through more of the mercenaries as they moved about. They would be switching out, some of them bedding down for the some sleep, others relieving the guard force so they could get some sleep before heading out on new missions once the intel was developed. Right now their battle rhythm was a little haphazard, but they'd get it figured out. Probably just in time for them to wrap things up and head out, or so Deckard suspected based on previous experience. Inside the OPCEN, he found Cody hard at work behind his computer. Projected on the wall was an organizational chart that attempted to break down the structure of the Jimenez cartel.
Deckard poured some coffee into a Styrofoam cup and took a seat. Scanning the link chart that Cody had made, Deckard knew he was sharper than he had given him credit for. Rather than a typical pyramid type hierarchy, Cody had accurately described the cartel as being largely horizontal.
The big problem with link charts was that Special Operations forces had a tendency to think that terrorist organizations had a strict chain of command and that they were all carefully organized into individual terror squads. This was the result of American military officers looking at terror networks through their own cultural lens. They thought that terrorist groups were organized along the same lines as the US Army.
In fact, terrorist groups functioned around loose associations. Only the most disciplined cells would be rigid or military like in their structure. They were dangerous, but quickly targeted and eliminated by strike teams. It was the disorganized chaos that proved to be a real threat. In Iraq for instance, terrorists from around the world flooded into the country to take part in the Jihad. They circled around linkmen, financiers or ringleaders. Many times they were divided up into task
Keeping his war belt on, Deckard slung the AK-103 over a shoulder and headed out. He needed a cup of coffee. What he really needed was a few hours sleep but there was a war to fight and Samruk was working on a very limited time line.
Stepping out into the hall, Deckard's footsteps echoed down the empty halls. When he came to Ortega's arms room, he stopped at the door to look inside. Nikita stood with his back to the door. He was running a cleaning rod down the barrel of a massive .50 caliber Barrett Anti-Material rifle. It was one of the many weapons that they had liberated from Ortega.
Sadly, the large bore rifle was nothing more than a show piece to the cartel. It was just an expression of machismo, they hadn't even bothered to attach a scope to it. Nikita would give the rifle a cleaning, get the rifle zeroed, and put it to use. Use the enemy's weapons against them, it was the perfect battlefield recovery.
Nikita slowly turned his head to look over his shoulder at Deckard. His eyes were cold, his face expressionless.
Deckard moved along. Now wasn't the time.
Several months ago they had stood together on the deck of the Crown of the Pacific. It had been a super-cruise liner that had sunk to the depths of the Pacific Ocean. By that point they were both barely on their feet, wounded by the fight of and for their lives. Samruk International had been put through the meat grinder, reduced from a full battalion to only a few platoons.
For reasons that confounded those who remained, they had survived the ordeal. Samruk had pulled off the impossible but it wasn't pretty. Their bodies had slowly healed, but Deckard knew that Nikita's mind had never really left that ship as it slipped beneath the waves towards the ocean floor.
Crossing the courtyard, Deckard looked over the security positions on his way. Pairs of Samruk mercenaries stood guard at intervals along the compound walls. They were still in the process of building up fighting positions with sandbags, bricks, and mortar. RPG launchers and PKM machine guns had been assigned to each position. So far, so good.
Entering Ortega's mansion, Deckard weaved through more of the mercenaries as they moved about. They would be switching out, some of them bedding down for the some sleep, others relieving the guard force so they could get some sleep before heading out on new missions once the intel was developed. Right now their battle rhythm was a little haphazard, but they'd get it figured out. Probably just in time for them to wrap things up and head out, or so Deckard suspected based on previous experience. Inside the OPCEN, he found Cody hard at work behind his computer. Projected on the wall was an organizational chart that attempted to break down the structure of the Jimenez cartel.
Deckard poured some coffee into a Styrofoam cup and took a seat. Scanning the link chart that Cody had made, Deckard knew he was sharper than he had given him credit for. Rather than a typical pyramid type hierarchy, Cody had accurately described the cartel as being largely horizontal.
The big problem with link charts was that Special Operations forces had a tendency to think that terrorist organizations had a strict chain of command and that they were all carefully organized into individual terror squads. This was the result of American military officers looking at terror networks through their own cultural lens. They thought that terrorist groups were organized along the same lines as the US Army.
In fact, terrorist groups functioned around loose associations. Only the most disciplined cells would be rigid or military like in their structure. They were dangerous, but quickly targeted and eliminated by strike teams. It was the disorganized chaos that proved to be a real threat. In Iraq for instance, terrorists from around the world flooded into the country to take part in the Jihad. They circled around linkmen, financiers or ringleaders. Many times they were divided up into task
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