THE ENEMY WITHIN

  By Todd McLeod & Eric Meyer

  THE HAWKINS’ HEROES SERIES

  Copyright 2019 by Todd McLeod & Eric Meyer

  Published by Swordworks Books

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Chapter One

  Snow fell covering the scarred landscape with a coating of white that gave the impression of a land at peace; except this was Afghanistan, a country where peace was an alien word. Where brutal, savage men had been making war as far back as history could record. Eddie Hawkins surveyed the terrain from the lofty perch of the cupola of their vehicle, the High Mobility Multipurpose Wheeled Vehicle, HMMWV, more familiarly known as the Humvee. Wondering if it could ever end. On a day like this, it looked possible. Peace to all men.

  As if reading his mind, Sergeant Dan Jones called over the intercom, “Don’t be fooled, guys. They’re out there somewhere, and they’ll be back soon.”

  “It looks so calm, Sarge. Maybe they’ll give us a break, at least for a while. Spend some time with their families, play ball with their kids.”

  “They play ball with the heads of the infidels they’ve killed. As for their wives, they treat them like dirt, so they’re not playing happy families.”

  Eddie didn’t reply. He was thinking about the game he’d played on his portable console last night. The Internet connection was crap, and he’d felt like giving up. Instead, he’d played on, and all he’d managed was to reduce his position in the rankings.

  That sucks. I need to get my act together, like find a better connection. I’ll talk to the intel officer. He has access to the base communication gear. Maybe he can help out with some ideas.

  “We’re almost at the outer marker of our patrol area,” Corporal Al Taylor’s voice came through his earpiece. Taylor was the comms guy, the technical wizard, and a second tour vet.

  Maybe I could ask him, he knows most things.

  “The turn’s coming up, about one klick,” PFC Winston Bellows called up to them, his deep, baritone requiring no amplification, “Do we go back?”

  Sergeant Dan considered for no more than two seconds. “Okay, maybe I was wrong, it’s all quiet. We’ll head back as planned.”

  Hawkins smiled to himself. He’d have a bit more time to sort out his connection, and if it went to plan, he’d have a better game later. Recover some lost ground. Show them he was still boss. They reached the turning point, a poorly repaired hole in the highway, created by an IED that destroyed a UN famine relief truck, and they swung around to head back. He took a last look at the landscape. Peaceful, calm, like a Christmas postcard. There was hope yet for this place that God had long abandoned.

  * * *

  They wore the uniform of the Afghan National Army, and their equipment was standard issue, and out of sight were the vehicles they drove. U.S. supplied Humvees and Russian BTR 80s, left over from the former Soviet invasion. The older man wearing snow camos was clearly a senior officer. He stood on the crest of a hill watching the American Humvee turn and head back south toward Kabul, which meant Bagram.

  “We could have taken them, General.”

  Mohammed Hosseini, sometime officer of the Afghan National Army, glanced behind at the turret-mounted gun on the nearest BTR. The heavy machine gun, a 14.5mm KPVT, could have unleashed a metal storm sufficient to destroy the Humvee, to smash it into pieces, along with its accursed crew. He relished the vision of a long burst from the machine gun, but this wasn’t the time.

  Soon. Soon, my small but powerful army will attack, a direct attack on the joint Afghan and American base at Bagram. A powerful thrust that will stab deep into the enemy heart.

  “I’m not a general, Major. Not yet.”

  “You are a general to us, Sir. Even if they haven’t promoted you as they should have.”

  “You may be right, Major Khan, but all in good time. And it is not the time to begin our attack prematurely. That will come later. Are the men ready?”

  Khan glanced back at the waiting vehicles, trucks, jeeps, and APCs laden with men. These were no ordinary men. Taliban veterans every one, all experienced fighters. Beneath their snow camos each man wore the uniform of the Afghan National Army, and were mounted in vehicles with Afghan Army unit flashes.

  “They are ready, General. When we drive into Bagram, the war will be as good as won. Allahu Akbar!”

  Hosseini nodded, enjoying them addressing him by the elevated rank, as he so justly deserved. “God is indeed great, Major. And his Prophet will smile on our enterprise as we slaughter the infidels and drive them from our Paradise. You may tell them tomorrow we attack.”

  “Not until tomorrow?”

  “First we need to know the state of the defenses. Tonight you can take an advance reconnaissance party into the base and report back on their state of readiness. Tomorrow, Major, the slaughter of the infidels will begin.”

  Major Khan relayed the message to the waiting troops, and the hillside resounded to the bloodthirsty cheers. With men like these, the battle was as good as won. Who could resist them?

  * * *

  Eddie Hawkins strolled around the perimeter, trying to control his anger. Sure, the connection had been bad the night before, but tonight? Nothing. Zip. Nada. So he’d decided to go for a walk and calm down. The night was clear and cold, and snow had started to fall again. That damn connection, it made him look like a fool. Slow to react during the game, and when something happened, he was seconds too late, which meant he lost every time.

  He stopped and stared around the base, enjoying the quiet despite his anger. No aircraft taking off or leaving, no maintenance crews on the stands, just the shapes of aircraft covered by a thin layer of snow. It was a few days before Christmas Day, peace and love to all men. He thought again about the Talibs.

  Is it likely they’d be with their families at this time?

  He shrugged.

  Sergeant Dan’s probably right. They’ll never give up. An attack could come at any time to destroy the beauty of this night. So where are the sentries, where are the patrols?

  He relaxed when he saw the Humvee drive through the main gate, and it started to negotiate the perimeter fence. And he tensed. Why come in from outside the base if their duty was to patrol inside the perimeter? It didn’t make sense. They looked kosher, an Afghan Army vehicle, and the troops were in uniform.

  Something’s wrong, but what?

  It came close to where he was standing, and he saw it then.

  A major riding in the shotgun seat, a major doing night sentry patrol! Not in a million years.

  He had to do something, but he carried no weapon, a bad mistake, although he was close to the vehicle park. Their Humvee was there, with weapons and a radio. He ran, sprinting across the snow-covered ground, past a parked F/A 18, and he was there. He opened the door, leapt in, and fell on top of Corporal Taylor, who put up his hands to defend himself.

  “What the hell!”

  “Corporal, it’s me, Eddie. We have company.”

  “What kind of company?”

  “The wrong kind.” He explained about the jeep, “If I’m wrong, I’ll swallow my machine gun. Corporal, they’re Taliban, on some kind of a recon mission. Inside Bagram!”

  His eyes widened as he realized the consequences. “I’ll call it in.”

  “We need to stop them before they get everything they need for a major attack.”

  “Stop them, how?”

  Eddie fought down his exasperation. Al Taylor was a good guy, but more at home with his electronics. “The usual way. Shoot the bastards.”

  He stared at him goggle-eyed. “Eddie, you don’t know for sure they’re hostiles.”

  “I know, believe me. When did you see a senior officer on night patrol?”

  “Uh, well, never.”

  “Right. Drive this damn thing. You can work the radio on the way. I’ll prepare the M2.”

  After a moment’s hesitation, he started the engine and drove out toward the far perimeter wire. The suspect vehicle was visible, showing its lights like it was supposed to be there, a routine patrol, maybe an inspection. Eddie threaded the belt into the Browning M2, gripping the butt of the gun as they swerved to avoid a parked C-17 cargo plane. They hurtled toward the distant jeep, and he took aim, but held his fire. He had to be one hundred percent certain. Or as near as dammit.

  “Eddie, I’m not sure,” Al called up, “They could be hostile, but maybe not.”

  He recalled Al had been made a serious slip up during his first tour, and men were killed. It made him cautious.

  “We need to get nearer, and we’ll see how they…Jesus!”

  The other Humvee suddenly swerved away, and from inside, someone let loose with an automatic rifle. Bullets smacked into the bodywork, and Al flinched as a round sliced skin off his hand, but he hung on and shouted up to Hawkins. “I guess that answers that question.”

  “Keep on them,” he shouted, “I need to line up a shot.”

  He swiveled the gun, and the muzzle was pointing directly at the enemy vehicle. He squeezed the trigger, pumped out a stream of .50 caliber bullets, and missed. Their Humvee had lurched into a pothole, and every bullet went wide as Al fought to regain control. He lined up another shot, and this time the stream of bullets found a target. At least a dozen heavy rounds tore into the enemy jeep, but in the darkness, it was impossible to see if he’d hit anyone.

  They were heading toward the main gate, and despite Al’s efforts, the lighter Humvee without the added weight of an armored cupola, gained on them. He had to stop firing when it neared the gate, and sentries scattered at it smashed through the barrier, out onto the highway and disappeared to the north.

  Security lights were coming on, turning night into day, and someone drove a truck across the open gate, making it impossible for them to go any further. Al came to a stop, and men came running from the guardhouse. They carried rifles, and the muzzles were pointing at them. A Master Sergeant dashed out and confronted them.

  “You men, turn off the engine, and get out of there with your hands up.”

  They obeyed, and Eddie found himself staring at the barrels of six rifles and six pairs of eyes that didn’t look happy. He kept his hands high and walked toward the men.

  “Sarge, we were chasing an enemy vehicle, and he’s getting away. We have to go after him.”

  “I didn’t see any enemy vehicle,” he snarled, “Just an Afghan Humvee.”

  “Which crashed through your barrier.”

  A shrug. “That’s nothing new. They’re always spaced out on illegal drugs. I’m betting they were just out having fun, until you fired on them. No wonder they were in such a hurry to get away.”

  “You have to listen to me. They were hostiles, and they opened fire on us.”

  Why doesn’t anyone listen?

  “You’re both under arrest. Men, put the cuffs on them and toss them into a cell. We’ll get to the bottom of this in the morning. In the meantime, I’m going back to our card game.”

  He felt the steel bracelets bite into his wrists, and Al shouted in pain when they closed over his wound. The MP looked suspicious.

  “What’s up, they too tight for you? Don’t worry, when you sober up, you won’t feel a thing.”

  They shoved them forward, and he felt sorry for Al, who was white with pain. Inside the cell, the door locked, and he felt more miserable than he’d felt in his life.

  “I’m sorry. It was my fault. You need medical attention.”

  Taylor shrugged. “I’ll live. And it wasn’t your fault. You were right. They were hostiles. You know what worries me, Eddie?”

  “Nope.”

  “What happens next, what’re they planning?”

  Chapter Two

  “What the hell were you playing at, Hawkins? Firing on a friendly?”

  He was alone. Al Taylor was in the base hospital for treatment on suspected blood poisoning from the wound in his hand. He’d been over it a score of times, and he knew he was right. “They weren’t friendlies, Sir. They were hostiles.”

  “They were Afghan Army. The vehicle, the uniforms, they all checked out.”

  He stared at the Company Commander, Captain Paul Rogers, fighting down his frustration, “Did anyone see their IDs?”

  He glanced at the MP standing at rigid attention. The same Master Sergeant who’d grabbed them the night before. “Did you check them?”

  “Uh, Nossir. There wasn’t time.”

  “What about when they arrived?”

  “Sir, we have no record of their arrival. The Afghans, you can never tell. No discipline.”

  “So they could have been hostiles.”

  He scowled. “They were Afghan Army. We get this all the time. They smoke some dope, and they think they own the place.”

  “They do own the place, Master Sergeant. Or had you forgotten this is their country?”

  “They weren’t hostiles,” he repeated, his expression stubborn, “This idiot opened fire on an ally.”

  Rogers nodded. “Maybe, maybe not. We’ll get to the bottom of this later. Dismissed, Sergeant.”

  “I need to take this man back to the cells, Sir.”

  He froze him with a hard glare. “You’re not taking him anywhere. Why did you not treat Corporal Taylor’s wound?”

  “We didn’t notice it.”

  “You should have checked. That’s all. Hawkins stays with me. Dismissed.”

  He saluted with an even deeper scowl and left. Rogers looked at Hawkins.

  “You understand I can’t let this go, or the Afghans will be on my neck.”

  “They were hostiles, Sir. No question.”

  “Right. Seven nights sentry duty, Private. After that you’re off the hook. Next time, check with an officer to make sure you know what you’re shooting at.”

  “Yessir.”

  They swapped salutes and he left the office. Seven nights on sentry, so no gaming, no drinks in the bar, no nothing. Just endless, boring nights crisscrossing the frozen snow-covered airfield. The other guys on his crew were sympathetic. Even Al Taylor, with his hand heavily bandaged. He’d refused sick time.

  “I told them no way. We saw what we saw, and a recon is the prelude to an attack. I don’t want them coming in all guns blazing while all I have to defend myself is a sticking plaster. They strolled over to their Humvee, and Eddie looked wistfully at his M2. He wouldn’t be using the weapon, not tonight. He was on foot patrol, slogging around the frozen airfield, and by the morning, he’d be so cold it would take the rest of the day to thaw out, ready for the next night.

  Sergeant Dan put a friendly hand on his shoulder before he left. “We’re with you, Eddie. If you say it was hostile, it was hostile. I tell you what, we’ll come out here after chow and bring you something hot. Warm you up for a few hours.”

  “It’s appreciated, Sarge.”

  “It’s the least we could do. We’ll meet you by the jeep. I’ll get Winston to warm up the engine and get the heater running.”

  “I thought we didn’t have a heater.”

  “We do now. Al fixed it up for us. Pinched it from the maintenance shop.”

  He nodded his thanks and walked away, heading for the perimeter wire where he’d first seen the enemy jeep. This time all he saw was snow. He checked his watch, three hours before he was due to meet the guys at their jeep, and try to get warm. He was freezing, from his socks to his head, encased in the Kevlar helmet. He was wearing thick gloves, and they may as well have been made of paper for all the good they did. He stamped his feet, shouldered his rifle, and did a half-dozen star jumps to get his circulation moving.

  The first movement he saw was in the distance, heading up the highway from the north. Not a single jeep like before, but the running lights of a long line of vehicles. They’d be an Army convoy, Afghans, not a lone jeep on some mission. He relaxed; knowing the men on the gate had been briefed to check documents on every vehicle coming in or out. He plodded around the perimeter, checked the parked aircraft, poked behind the hangars to make sure no one was pilfering gas, and started on a new circuit of the perimeter. A half hour to go before he met his unit and a chance to get warm, it seemed like an eternity.

  * * *

  “You were stupid, Major.” Khan stared back at him, not contradicting, “A senior officer on night patrol inside the air base, it doesn’t make sense. It’s no surprise that soldier noticed something out of place.”

  “I wanted to see for myself, Sir.”

  Hosseini stared back at him and nodded. “You did that, Major, and what difference did it make? Other than stir up the Americans.”

  “We’ve had contact from our people inside Bagram, and they don’t suspect anything. The men who fired on us were put in a cell.” He chuckled, “The MPs thought they’d fired on their Afghan allies.”

  He grunted. “They will soon find out their mistake. Did they give you the documents?”

 

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