MacIntyre grunted, “I don’t suppose the opposition is conveniently using the communications centers at the
Ministry of Defense and the Palace compound?”
“No joy, Admiral. President Kediri’s heroic defenders, the bastards, managed to sabotage their commo systems and
our signal Intelligence taps before falling gloriously in battle. All we’re getting is the operational stuff on the Indonesian tactical radio nets.”
“What’s the situation inside the Embassy?” Amanda inquired.
“The embassy staff are burning the hardcopy files now. All computer memories have
been purged and blanked and the hardware has all been wired for destruct. We’ll be ready to move whenever.”
“Don’t make any long-term plans, Chris. We’ll get back to you.”
The Intel cocked an eyebrow. “It’s not as if I’m going out for a latté. This is Point Man Base, out.”
Christine’s video and audio links went down.
A few long moments of silence followed in the briefing room. “Believe in yourself. Amanda,” MacIntyre said quietly. “You’ll get her out.”
“This one is just a little more difficult, Elliot.”
She heard him give a soft rueful laugh. “Tell me about it. Every time I send one of you out it’s always just a little more difficult.”
For the first time in several days, Christine’s revelation about Macintyre flared back into Amanda’s mind. Unlikely though the concept might be, that touch felt rather comforting at the moment.
“It could be worse,” Stone Quillain said, providing a welcome distraction. “Between signal Intelligence and the drone imagin’, it looks like the rebels only have themselves a reinforced brigade and a few
other odds and ends in and around Jakarta. That ain’t a hell of a lot of manpower to hold a major city.”
Amanda nodded. “There are still pockets of resistance holding out. Polici mostly, but they’ll complicate the equation for the people running this coup.”
“That is something.” MacIntyre lifted his hand from her shoulder and paced over to a second large
screen display. This one held a computer map of the Jakarta environs, a
scattering of red position hacks widely spaced across it. “They’re spread thin and they don’t have the total support of either the military or the populace. Obviously they
were, and are, counting on the total decapitation of the Kediri government as
their road to power. As long as Kediri is out there alive and giving orders,
they could still lose it all.”
Amanda frowned. “That doesn’t bode at all well for our Embassy. We’ve got to get Kediri and our people out of there now, before the rebels get that
little bit more desperate.”
MacIntyre glanced back at her. “I’ve got you your wish list from the Regional Intervention Force and the
Australians, but it will be at least another forty-eight hours before we can
get any additional surface platforms in here or kick loose any additional
Special Ops ground units. My sense is we don’t have that time.”
“We don’t,” Amanda agreed. “We have to go tonight and we have to go with what we have aboard the Shenandoah. Those are the parameters my planning staff and I have been working with.”
“What have you got?”
“Something a little bit unusual.” She got up from her chair and joined MacIntyre at the map display. “We started with two extraction options, either over the beach or out by air,
neither of which we were happy with. It’s over four miles from the harbor to the Embassy through what they call the old
Batavia district. My ground advisor here was exceptionally unhappy with the
ground option.”
“Oh yeah,” Stone nodded. “You got your narrow old-timey streets and the old city canal system to deal
with. You got choke points all over the place where a small armored column
could get stalled up and piled on. Beyond that, we’ve got a hundred and twenty-eight souls to get out of that compound. We don’t have near enough tracks to move that many people in and out in one cycle and I
can guarantee you right now we ain’t goin’ to get two.”
“We even considered taking our AAAVs and RIB raiders down either the Banjii or
the Gunung-Sahari canals,” Amanda added, running a fingertip along the glowing blue lines on the screen. “But again, there are just too many bridges and choke points where a handful of
rebel troops could pin us down. If we’re going to do this, we’ve got to do it by air.”
“I’d agree, but with some massive reservations.” MacIntyre reached over to the trackball controller and keypad beside the
display. Using them, he blew up the core section of the map until it filled the
screen. “You’ve got the helipad inside the compound and you’ve got plenty of open landing ground in the square,” he said. “But the closer to the central government district you get, the worse the urban
buildup, including high rises. That’s not good helicopter or VTOL country. You could very well develop a Mogadishu
scenario if you get some downed extraction aircraft.”
“I know it,” Amanda replied. “That’s why we’ve come up with a twist on things that may help to give us an edge on this
situation.”
MacIntyre lifted a shaggy brow at her. “What kind of a twist this time?”
“We’re going to turn the classic ground support equation around backwards.”
“Backward?”
Amanda nodded. “Normally, you bring in air power to support your ground units. Tonight though …” She reached up and tapped a point on the map, an empty area along the coastline
of Jakarta Bay labeled ‘Ancol (Dreamland) Park.’ “Tonight, we’re going to bring in the ground units to support our air power.”
Point Man Base
The United States Embassy, Jakarta
2303 Hours; Zone Time, October 31, 2008
A million dollars worth of processor boards and chipsets crunched under crow bars and carbine butts.
“Everything but the radios and relays, people!” Christine Rendino called over the sound of the destruction. “Sergeant MacGuffin, you and Stacy stay on the Indonesian tactical monitors right
up to the last second. Have the det cord in place and ready to blow as we go
out the door.”
“No problem, ma’am,” the noncom replied. “There’s not going to be shit left in here when we’re done.”
The once elegant Embassy reception room looked like the interior of a bombed-out electronics plant. There would be no time or lift available to evacuate the Point Man equipment, only the people. But none of the sophisticated Intelligence gathering systems would be left intact. The same kind of organized demolition was being repeated in the Embassy communications and encryption centers.
One of the civilian embassy staffers appeared at the doorway to the reception
room. Clad for practicality in jeans, blouse and running shoes, she cringed a
little at the sight of the organized devastation. “Commander Rendino, the Ambassador would like to speak with you if it’s possible.”
“Sure, Sally. On my way. MacGuffin, keep busting things until I get back.” Trying to assume a proper air of military savoir faire, Christine scooped her helmet and P90 Personal Assault Weapon off a nearby desktop and followed the staffer.
Ambassador Goodyard and President Kediri were both waiting in Goodyard’s office. Seated behind his desk, Goodyard was dressed in a golfing shirt and slacks, while Kediri paced the floor clad in the same rumpled safari suit he had worn on the day of the coup. A pair of Kevlar helmets and interceptor vests lay across the desktop and the office seemed warm, despite the laboring air conditioning.
Goodyard looked up as she entered. “Good evening, Commander. May I offer you a cold drink?”
“No, thank you, sir,” Christine replied with matching politeness. She didn’t need anything more to throw up.
“I know you’re heavily involved at the moment – but I was wondering if you could give President Kediri and me an update on the extraction operation?”
