Echo Six: Black Ops 4 - Chechen Massacre by Eric Meyer
Authors: Eric Meyer
Tags: thriller, Literature & Fiction, Action & Adventure, Crime, Mystery, War & Military, Genre Fiction, Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, War
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shook the building like a small earthquake and made conversation impossible. Ranged around the perimeter, he could see a squadron of South Korean armor; American supplied M1 A1 Abrams main battle tanks, armor and airpower. He looked back at Brooks.
“And if we did manage to stop the train, we’d need air support and armor to fight more than two hundred defenders."
Doesn’t Brooks understand? Going in there with just twenty men is little more than a suicide mission.
"Twenty one, I'll be coming with you," Barrington murmured,
Except I'm not about to lead my men to their deaths, no way! So they may as well face up to the fact that no one’s going anywhere. Don’t they get it? I’ll try to make them see sense.
"Twenty, twenty-one, what the hell difference does it make? It's not going to happen, Admiral, so forget it." He cast around for an argument to clinch the affair, something to make it clear to them how nonsensical it all was. For some crazy reason, he thought about the language problem. Other than a few words and phrases, no one in his unit spoke Russian. He stared at the Admiral.
"There's something else you haven't considered. Not one of us speaks Russian! It's mad to expect a unit like ours to infiltrate and stop the Trans-Siberian Express without speaking a word of the language."
Brooks looked calm.
"I agree with you, Commander Talley. You’re absolutely right."
"Good. If you…"
But the Admiral hadn't finished. “That's why I've assigned someone to go with you, someone who speaks Russian fluently. That makes twenty-two,” he smiled, as if the extra man was a clincher.
Talley shook his head. "It's too late to introduce someone new into the unit. Someone who doesn't know the way we work."
Brooks had a half smile on his face. Talley didn't know how, only that somehow, the wily Admiral had trumped his ace, had foreseen his objections, and was ready to counter them. He pressed a button on his desktop intercom.
"Sir?"
"Sergeant James, will you send the Captain in now, please."
"Yessir, right away."
The Captain must have been waiting outside, for the door opened, and an officer stepped into the office, came to attention, and saluted. Talley felt as if he'd been punched in the stomach. She was beautiful, tall and willowy, only a couple of inches shorter than him. She was olive skinned, testifying to an undoubted Mediterranean ancestry. Her face displayed high, sculpted cheekbones; topped by a mass of dark, almost black glossy hair, and she wore no makeup he could see. Her camouflaged uniform was identical to that worn by the rest of the NATO elite troops, the American Multicam design. She wore it over a pair of smart, lightweight jump boots. He knew her well, knew she'd been part of a Brit intelligence operation run by MI6, and she held the Army rank of Captain, NATO grade OF-2, one jump below him. Her name was Alessandra Falco, Captain Alessandra Falco. He knew a lot more about her, because for two months, they'd been lovers. Before he'd called it all off, after the slaughter here in Seoul, committed by Colonel Ho.
On my watch.
He'd wanted was to be alone with his grief and guilt. Since Alessandra Falco, he hadn't been with a woman. The reason was simple. Every time he looked at a girl, he could see the face of one of those nurses. He nodded to her.
"Captain Falco."
"Commander Talley."
The other two men were watching keenly. It was obvious they'd picked up the awkwardness between them. Brooks would have expected it, and he brushed over it.
"Captain Falco, you spent the past twelve hours sourcing every piece of intel you could find to help us plan this operation. Perhaps you would go away with Commander Talley and pass on to him what you have found out. Jonas, would you stay here? There are a few things I need to talk over with you."
He sat waiting; Talley and Falco took the hint and left his office. As they walked along the passage, he spoke to her, "Maybe we should get some coffee. Somewhere
“And if we did manage to stop the train, we’d need air support and armor to fight more than two hundred defenders."
Doesn’t Brooks understand? Going in there with just twenty men is little more than a suicide mission.
"Twenty one, I'll be coming with you," Barrington murmured,
Except I'm not about to lead my men to their deaths, no way! So they may as well face up to the fact that no one’s going anywhere. Don’t they get it? I’ll try to make them see sense.
"Twenty, twenty-one, what the hell difference does it make? It's not going to happen, Admiral, so forget it." He cast around for an argument to clinch the affair, something to make it clear to them how nonsensical it all was. For some crazy reason, he thought about the language problem. Other than a few words and phrases, no one in his unit spoke Russian. He stared at the Admiral.
"There's something else you haven't considered. Not one of us speaks Russian! It's mad to expect a unit like ours to infiltrate and stop the Trans-Siberian Express without speaking a word of the language."
Brooks looked calm.
"I agree with you, Commander Talley. You’re absolutely right."
"Good. If you…"
But the Admiral hadn't finished. “That's why I've assigned someone to go with you, someone who speaks Russian fluently. That makes twenty-two,” he smiled, as if the extra man was a clincher.
Talley shook his head. "It's too late to introduce someone new into the unit. Someone who doesn't know the way we work."
Brooks had a half smile on his face. Talley didn't know how, only that somehow, the wily Admiral had trumped his ace, had foreseen his objections, and was ready to counter them. He pressed a button on his desktop intercom.
"Sir?"
"Sergeant James, will you send the Captain in now, please."
"Yessir, right away."
The Captain must have been waiting outside, for the door opened, and an officer stepped into the office, came to attention, and saluted. Talley felt as if he'd been punched in the stomach. She was beautiful, tall and willowy, only a couple of inches shorter than him. She was olive skinned, testifying to an undoubted Mediterranean ancestry. Her face displayed high, sculpted cheekbones; topped by a mass of dark, almost black glossy hair, and she wore no makeup he could see. Her camouflaged uniform was identical to that worn by the rest of the NATO elite troops, the American Multicam design. She wore it over a pair of smart, lightweight jump boots. He knew her well, knew she'd been part of a Brit intelligence operation run by MI6, and she held the Army rank of Captain, NATO grade OF-2, one jump below him. Her name was Alessandra Falco, Captain Alessandra Falco. He knew a lot more about her, because for two months, they'd been lovers. Before he'd called it all off, after the slaughter here in Seoul, committed by Colonel Ho.
On my watch.
He'd wanted was to be alone with his grief and guilt. Since Alessandra Falco, he hadn't been with a woman. The reason was simple. Every time he looked at a girl, he could see the face of one of those nurses. He nodded to her.
"Captain Falco."
"Commander Talley."
The other two men were watching keenly. It was obvious they'd picked up the awkwardness between them. Brooks would have expected it, and he brushed over it.
"Captain Falco, you spent the past twelve hours sourcing every piece of intel you could find to help us plan this operation. Perhaps you would go away with Commander Talley and pass on to him what you have found out. Jonas, would you stay here? There are a few things I need to talk over with you."
He sat waiting; Talley and Falco took the hint and left his office. As they walked along the passage, he spoke to her, "Maybe we should get some coffee. Somewhere
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