Harvath was about to have him lie down so they could hog-tie him when Jacks raised the butt of his weapon and struck the man across the back of his head, knocking him unconscious.
“Problem solved,” the Brit said.
Even though the man was out, there was no telling how long he would stay out. Harvath hog-tied him anyway and left him there.
With their Raven out of commission, they prepared to push into the compound. Harvath took point, followed by Krueger, Biscuit, Jacks, and Hookah. The sooner they were out of the tunnel, the happier Harvath would be.
Allegedly, the tunnel ended in a large mechanical room. Beyond thatwas an exterior courtyard followed by the main building. Pressing the stock of his Galil into his shoulder, Harvath led the way.
Following the tunnel, they eventually arrived at a room with two old, enormous furnaces, rusted pipes, and scrambles of frayed wiring. Ahead of them was a large, metal door. Harvath signaled for Biscuit to pull it open but cautioned him to do it slowly.
The moment the Canadian began to draw the door back, it started to make a loud, metallic squeal. As soon as that happened, Biscuit stopped what he was doing and froze in place.
Were any of the Ravens close enough to have heard that?Harvath strained his ears but couldn’t pick up anything that would suggest that they’d been blown.
He motioned to Biscuit to pull up the handle in order to help lessen the weight on the hinges and cut down on the noise. The young man did as he’d been instructed, and the door swung open soundlessly.
Harvath poked the tip of his suppressor out, applied pressure to his trigger, and leaned his head to the side, ready to engage, but the courtyard was empty.
Calling up Krueger, he sent him outside, followed by Jacks, Hookah, and then Biscuit. Harvath was just about to join them when the courtyard erupted in gunfire and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Biscuit go down.
There were multiple shooters along a rampart, about fifty meters from their position. Harvath joined his teammates in subjecting their attackers to a withering barrage of fire.
Krueger was the first to yell, “Reloading!” soon followed by Jacks and then Hookah.
As they slammed home fresh magazines and continued the fight, Harvath flipped down the magnifier on his rifle, gave it a quick adjustment, and began picking off the shooters one by one.
Only when the shooters were neutralized did he look back down at Biscuit. He was slumped on the ground, exsanguinating, the blood spurting from the right side of his neck. Grabbing Biscuit by his collar, Harvath dragged him back into the mechanical room.
“Tangos inbound!” Hookah yelled, having spotted more Ravens pouring into the courtyard.
Ripping open Biscuit’s IFAK, Harvath snatched a package of gauze, as well as a bandage, and dressed the wound as quickly as he could.
By the time he raised the Canadian’s hand to guide it to the spot where he should apply pressure, the bandage was soaked through with blood and the young man was pale and unresponsive. He wasn’t going to make it.
“Contact front!” Krueger yelled as a new wave of gunfire broke out.
“Everything’s going to be okay,” Harvath told Biscuit. “You hold here. Cover our six. We got this.”
Standing up, he readied his weapon, popped around the doorframe, and got back in the fight.
Hookah, Jacks, and Krueger had already moved to cover. There were too many bullets flying for Harvath to join them, so he returned fire from where he was.
“Frag out!” Hookah yelled as he sent a grenade hurtling toward their assailants.
Harvath and the rest of his team crouched down behind their various pieces of cover and waited for the detonation. Once the explosion happened, they got back up and started firing.
Harvath used the opportunity to run toward Krueger’s position. When he got there, he changed magazines and announced to the team, “Reloading!”
Jacks and Hookah laid down cover fire for each other as they charged over to where Harvath and Krueger were.
“Biscuit?” Jacks asked as he changed magazines.
Harvath shook his head.
Hookah closed his eyes for a brief second as he swapped magazines. “Motherfuckers,” he said. “What’s the plan?”
Harvath didn’t hesitate. He knew that every second wasted was a minute of a hostage’s life. “We push. Right now.”