Perez aimed his rifle at the Taliban soldier on the rooftop.
A soft thump sounded, and the man on the roof collapsed in place.
“One bogey down,” Maurice murmured into his mic. “Might be more.”
“Go,” Perez said and covered Maurice as he moved forward.
“We have the target building in view,” Scott said.
Maurice reached the end of a squat house and peered around the corner. A larger structure backed up to a hillside. Two men dressed in black leaned against the wall on either side of the door, holding rifles in their hands.
Perez slipped up behind Maurice.
Collins’ voice sounded in Maurice’s ear. “Tingle and I are in place, with the rear of the building in sight. It’s built into the hill. No one’s coming out the back unless they have tunnels exiting somewhere else. Heading your way to cover.”
“Scott, take the guy on the right,” Maurice said. “I got the left on three.” Maurice raised his goggles, fitted his rifle against his shoulder and sighted in on the Taliban soldier. He spoke softly, “One...two...” As he said the word “three,” he squeezed the trigger.
The two guards slumped and slid to the ground, their rifles clattering against the hard-packed dirt.
The team moved in.
Collins and Tingle positioned themselves on the corners of the building to provide cover on the outside while Maurice, Perez, Scott and Rusty entered.
Maurice took point.
They cleared one room at a time, finding boxes, crates and trash. No humans.
A door at the end of the hall opened into a tunnel that burrowed into the side of the hill.
Before stepping through the doorway, Maurice spoke into his mic. “Going into a tunnel. Will lose contact with Collins and Tingle.”
“We’ve got your back,” Collins said.
More worried that no one had their backs, Maurice said, “If shit gets real out there, join us inside. The building is clear. Our targets must be in the cave.”
“Roger,” Collins responded.
Wire ran the length of the tunnel, with an occasional yellow light bulb dangling along the way.
Thirty feet in, the tunnel curved sharply to the left.
Maurice slowed and held up his fist.
The men following him stopped, guns ready.
Maurice eased around the turn to find the tunnel opened into a small cavern lit by a few scattered light bulbs strung across the ceiling.
The stench of urine and unwashed bodies hit Maurice first. Men lay on mats across the floor. On the far side of the cavern, several cells had been carved out of the mountain. Metal bars had been fashioned into doors and hung over the cells. Something or someone moved inside one of the cells.
A low moan echoed softly through the cavern. A couple of the sleeping men stirred and went back to sleep. One man rose, walked to a corner to Maurice’s left and peed in a bucket.
Maurice counted nine Taliban.
He backed around the corner and whispered to the men with him, “Small cavern. Nine bogeys, eight sleeping. Cells on the far side. Ready to roll?”
The other three nodded.
Again, on point, Maurice led the others into the cavern.
