Chapter 3: Intruders Will Be Shot

Chapter 3: Intruders Will Be Shot

New Caladon is a lush island in the temperate zone, blessed with an abundance of both rain and sunshine. The foliage, therefore, grows luxurious on most parts of the island save the steep mountainsides, trees and bushes and flowers flourishing in both density and variety. It was among such dense undergrowth that Natasha O’Connell and her companion hid. They had landed the night before and slowly worked their way up from the beach, clinging to any cover available and avoiding the patrols of island security. By noon the next day they had worked their way up to within sight of their objective, the processing plant, and presumably the vaults where enough wealth to purchase nations was housed.

Both were dressed in camouflaged fatigues in shades of dark green and brown. Their faces were covered with similar colors to hide in the dim light of the undergrowth. And both carried assault rifles as well as side arms and backpacks. They lay on the ground, watching and timing the guard’s rounds through binoculars. Unfortunately for them, they were also lying only a few feet from one of the new motion and heat sensors installed only two days before by the efficient Colonel Ramsey.

Their first indication that all was not well with their operation was the sound of jeeps coming up behind them. Having crossed it earlier that morning, they knew that a road was not far behind them, and when the jeeps suddenly fell silent, they knew trouble was on its way. The man turned to Tasha, pointed to the left and then rolled over to the right and began crawling away through the bushes, rapidly but with surprisingly little noise. She was doing the same in the opposite direction.

Tasha moved fast, keeping low and ever alert for the guards she was sure were spreading out behind her. She cursed as she wiggled under bushes, trying to put as much distance between herself and pursuit, a few choice words that would have made most men blush. Branches slapped her in the face, but she ignored them and kept moving, all the while alert for the sounds behind her and expecting at any moment to feel a bullet between the shoulder blades. The security on New Caladon had a reputation for dealing harshly with intruders. It was said they rarely took prisoners.

The voice took her by surprise for it came from in front of her: “Freeze!” She froze, muttered a single four-letter word, and felt a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. For a brief second she had the urge to swing her rifle up and fire. If that voice hesitated, if he was afraid to shoot, she might kill him before he killed her.

“Don’t even think about it,” came the cold advice.

Tasha slowly pushed away her rifle and lay motionless on her stomach, arms outstretched in a position of surrender.

“Smart girl,” said the voice with a British accent. She saw boots come into view and kick the rifle farther away. Tilting her head up, she could see a Colt Commando assault rifle held steady on her. She lowered her head and sighed.

There was the sound of movement to her side and suddenly someone was lying on her, a knee in her middle of her back painfully pinning her to the ground. Her arms were grabbed and jerked around behind where the wrists were joined by steel handcuffs. Then her sidearm was taken from its holster. The knee departed from her back and she was roughly dragged to her feet.

At the jeeps, she noticed a man not dressed in the uniform of the Security Forces sitting in one of them, calmly watching her being marched out of the jungle. She was put in the back seat of the jeep behind him and her ankles locked together with another pair of handcuffs. One guard sat beside her, his 9mm Beretta 92F automatic held to her head.

Suddenly there was the sound of weapons fire. Three quick shoots, followed by a burst of automatic weapon fire, probably the Colt Commandos. Then silence. She closed her eyes and hoped that Roger had gotten away.

Her jeep came to life and moved, taking her away from the scene of her failure.

The room was small, held only a table and a couple chairs, and was depressing in its stark lack of any other furniture or any windows . A bright overhead light shone down on the table and ceiling vents moved cool air over her skin. Tasha had been taken to this room and held firmly between two guards while her handcuffs were taken off. Then her backpack and pistol belt were removed. With professional competence and lack of male interest in her rather fine body, the third guard removed her camos, leaving her only her bra and panties. The clothing was cut to ribbons in a search for weapons or diamonds. The grease paint was wiped off her face, and then she was placed in one of the chairs and her wrists handcuffed behind the chair’s back. Another pair of handcuffs were locked upon her ankles and a third pair used to link the other two together, forcing her feet back and up under the chair. The strain made the cuffs cut into her wrists and ankles but she said nothing. She had been caught in a crime and this was very probably the least of her punishments.

For a long time she was left alone, sitting next to the empty table, with one guard sitting across the room. If the man, who appeared to be an American, found her display of fine female flesh interesting, he did not show it.

Eventually, the door opened and in came the man with the British accent. He dumped a large box on the table. A second man came in behind him with another box.

The first man reached into one box and removed what she immediately recognized as her rifle. “FA MAS rifle, 5.56mm,” he said casually. “Compact, made in France by St. Etienne, popular with the French Special Forces.”

He took her pistol belt from the box. “Beretta 92F 9mm automatic. Standard side arm of the United States Army, Air Force and Marines, replacing the Colt .45 1911 model. Popular with other armies, but not with the US Navy Seals. They had a number of problems with slide fractures and abandoned them. They had a saying, ‘You’re not a SEAL ‘til you’ve eaten Italian steel’. That refers to the injuries that occur when the slide jams and explodes. Hardly the weapon I would expect a beautiful young woman like you to carry.”

He pulled out her pack. “Some rations, water, but mostly empty. Such a big backpack. Perhaps you were planning to take something out with you?” He was not grinning; the comment was not a joke. They both knew exactly why she had come sneaking onto the island. And that backpack filled with diamonds, even raw ones, would be worth a king’s ransom.

The door opened and in came the man she had seen sitting calmly in the jeep. The first man looked up at him, but made no comment and continued. From the other box he withdrew another assault rifle with a long, curved magazine. “Galil 5.56mm assault rifle. Standard weapon of the Israelis. Combat tested many times in the Middle East.” He pulled out a pistol. “Steyr 9mm GB. Austria. First of the large capacity magazine automatics. Eighteen rounds. Favored by the US Special Forces during the 80s.”

While he talked, Tasha was looking at the man who had come in. He was in his early thirties, tall, slender and on the handsome side. His black hair was fashioned in waves, and a thin mustache graced his upper lip. He seemed interested in what was going on, and unashamedly was giving her body a good looking at.