Chapter 7

The BO-105 turned on its axis, dropping down with just a little forward flight. I kept her moving so as not to settle in her own rotor vortex and lose lift on the rotors. My heart was beating in my chest and there was a roaring sound in my ears. I must break the lock-on.

Then, as the helicopter came around, I saw a second and a third silver-white smoke trail arcing up into the sky. Shit! Three SA-18 missiles!

But simultaneously with the realisation of three missiles fired, it dawned on me that the missiles were moving away from us. They were tracing an irregular track through the sky, moving away from us and ... tracking the sun!

“What the fu...!” I exclaimed. “The missiles are tracking the sun?”

“Those missiles were triggered accidentally. Either Darya or I hit the launcher or the missile storage...” Mai-Loan said.

“It seems like the firing has stopped. There’s none coming out of those trees; and TC and the AU guys are moving in on the target.” Ash offered.

“Let’s keep them covered!” I heard from Darya.

“Two blue-coloured vehicles are speeding off out of the trees!” Mai-Loan exclaimed.

“Got them!” I confirmed, then banked the helicopter around on an intercept path to the fleeing vehicles.

“There’s a road leading off to the west. Fly to the north of it. It will give me a nice shot at them,” Mai-Loan called.

“Ready in twenty seconds!” I confirmed and dropped the helicopter just two metres from the treetops.

As we came within forty metres from the two vehicles, Mai-Loan opened fire in short bursts. All around them, fountains of dust and sand erupted. The rear vehicle swerved to the south, hit a pothole, and went end-over-end along the side of the road, spilling figures from the back as it spun. The bodies fell onto the side of the dirt road, rolling over and over.

Mai-Loan kept firing at the vehicle in short bursts, and it exploded in an orange and red ball of flame. Black smoke billowed out of the burning wreck.

The lead vehicle was now about a hundred metres ahead, high tailing it. I followed, swinging south of the road to give Darya a firing chance. As we neared the old blue open bakkie, figures started to jump off the back, leaving the mounted heavy calibre gun on the back swinging aimlessly from side to side.

Then, Darya hit them with her five-oh. Tracers arched out and impacted the vehicle. Pieces of bodywork flew off the bakkie, and it swerved to the right, coming to a standstill with white steam billowing out of the engine. Darya stopped firing. On the ground eight or nine figures were running in all directions.

The white steam was replaced with black smoke, and I saw tongues of orange-red flame licking at the bakkie’s front. Suddenly it exploded in a bright ball of flame, lifted up on its back, hovered for a moment suspended in the air, then fell back to the ground where it lay burning on its side.

“Let’s go see how TC and the AU guys are doing,” I commanded, and swung the helicopter away from the chaos below, back to TC’s position on the road. The fight was over, and the battle won.

The route took us over the clump of trees where the baddies first struck from. Thick black smoke rose from the tree cover. Flames shot into the sky from between the trees, and some of the trees were already on fire. Something I could not identify was burning beneath the clump of trees.

I saw the AU guys sweeping the area, some stopping to wave up at us.

“Eagle, this is Squirrel. Nice shooting!” TC transmitted on the hand-held radio.

“Smudge told you that this ‘relic’ will save your ass sometime.”

“Yeah, yeah! Stop gloating. We need you here. There’s a nice place next to the second Land Rover that is clear of trees and rocks. You can set down there,” TC responded.

“Any casualties on your side?” Ash asked.

“Cuts and bruises, nothing serious. Just the loss of the lead AU vehicle; it’s a wreck. Looks like they hit the fuel tank.”

“We’ll be there. Twenty secs’” I responded.

With a call of, “Roger!” TC signed off.

“Gun safe!” Darya announced.

“Gun safe this side too!” Mai-Loan repeated.

“Close the side doors. We are good for now, and this thing blows up a dust storm on landing,” I instructed, as we neared the road and the line of vehicles. I circled the road and the scene below, testing the wind and spotting the landing zone. Slowly I approached for the landing.

After landing, I left the BO-105 running. I selected the throttles to ground idle, locked them down, and left Mai-Loan in charge. At least she had some chopper experience and knew what to do if something went south.

TC was directing the operations from the side of the lead Land Rover, barking instructions to the squad and getting SITREP updates from the AU members and their commander.

“Damn! They just opened fire on us from within those trees, taking out the lead AU personnel carrier! Luckily, we had no casualties.” TC informed Ash and me.

“Well, it is paste now ... disconfuckulated.” I said, eyeing the smouldering wreck of the vehicle laying on its side, next to the road.

“Yeah, that thing is going nowhere. I believe there’s a recovery squad on the way. Also, some US Marines and Somali Security Force members are incoming,” TC further informed us. At that moment I heard the low stereo drone of two UH-60 Black Hawks, low on the horizon. Response time was quick as we were only six kilometres, straight as the crow flies, from the airport at Kismayo.

“Here comes the cavalry,” Ash added, as he peered into the morning sun, shading his eyes with his left hand.

“Yeah, let’s give them some space,” I said.

“I nearly thought you guys were fried when I saw those missiles take flight,” TC said. “I did not know how you guys would have dodged those!”

“Seems like either Darya or Mai-Loan hit a launcher or missile cache on that second pass,” Ash said.

“Well, now I know the weak spot of those SA-18s. Head for the sun and break away while dropping flares. They are bound to follow the sun,” I said.

“Those things are cleverer than that. They have a two channel IR tracker and can distinguish between the real target and a fake one, like flares.” TC said. “Be careful with that Russian shit!”

“Another way is to try and out-turn them. They take about 3 to 4 nautical miles to turn at Mach one point nine. By that time hope and pray they run out of juice and acquire the flare as target.” Ash offered.

“I’ll ask Leah for advice too. She has been dodging them for years in the Baltic,” I said.

“What now TC?” Ash asked.

“We carry on to the construction site, with or without the AU guys.”

“Okay, your call. We’ll provide top cover,” I said. “Come Boss, let’s go get the bird up again.”

“If you need, I’ve got some five-oh ammo in the back Landie. Not much, about 400 rounds,” TC offered.

“I’ll send the girls over while I check out the bird.”

“Good!” TC said and turned away to greet the incoming cavalry.

Turning back to the helicopter, Ash remarked; “She’s done her bit today. And your flying was excellent. One can see you know those birds.”

“Try dodging AK-47 rounds fired on you at low level during a cash-in-transit heist! Thank God those BO-105s are agile!” I answered.

“Yeah, but it takes a skilled pilot to execute what it can deliver,” Ash said. “You’re not a rookie anymore, you’ve just showed you are Smudge! By the way, how did you come by that call-sign?”

“I suppose Lorie will tell you, but during an air-to-air intercept, I was chasing this dot on the horizon that did not want to settle into a good flight path. It turned out to be a dirt smudge on my windscreen...” I said, half embarrassed. Ash burst out laughing.

“Yeah, happens when you’re all hyped up in the chase!” He said between gasps.

City of Kismayo, Somalia, 11:05 GMT +3

Slightly across from the Kismayo Park and on the north-west corner of a city block in Kismayo, the Kismayo Gothic Cathedral lay in ruins, destroyed by al-Shabaab in 2008.

The Catholic Mission is hidden away from prying eyes. Only a few people knew about the existence of the mission. Officially there were no Christians in Kismayo, but that is the official record. There were still ten to fifteen Christians in the city, and the mission attended to them.

There were a number of shops and markets in the vicinity of the mission and everyday people would walk past the mission and not know it was there.

Father Alfonso, dressed in normal everyday Somali men’s casual wear, had welcomed his guest, Father Lorenzo Romano. Both sat in the cool of the mission’s inner sanctuary, drinking Sweet Somali Chai tea.

“It’s so good to see you again, Lorenzo. How good of the bishop to send you here.” Alfonso said as he took a sip of his tea.

“I am honoured to come here and help you out, my friend. How are you doing?”

“Well, as you can see, the Lord has been good to me. I am still a little frail but getting stronger with each passing day.”

“We should pray together and thank the Lord for your recovery,” Lorenzo said.

“We can do so after tea, my friend.”

“Good,” Lorenzo responded, but he kept thinking of how to get inside the UN compound at the Kismayo airport.

“Your first task would be to go to the UN compound at the airport. There are about 200 members there that are in need of blessings. They do good but dangerous work and need all the blessings they can get,” Alfonso continued.

Lorenzo nearly spilled his tea. He did not think that Alfonso would raise the subject so early on.

“Do you tend to them there at the compound?”

“Yes, I do. I can’t have them come here and compromise our hideaway,” and he looked over at Lorenzo.

“I need to get ready to serve them then,” Lorenzo chuckled.

“There are American, Tanzanian, and Ugandan soldiers there. Not all, but a few of them are of our faith. I learned that a few South Africans have now joined, but they are not soldiers. They work for a security company that will provide security for the new seawater desalting plant,” Alfonso explained.

Lorenzo trembled: here is his chance to gain the confidence of the security members. Hmm ... South Africans. Most probably not Roman Catholics, but they must be made welcome.

“When are you scheduled to go to them?”

“Funny you should ask, but I need to see them tonight. I’ve not been up and about, so I did not see them last week. Therefore, tonight I will arrange to introduce you. Be ready.” Alfonso said. He didn’t see the gleam in Lorenzo’s eyes, and the slight smile on his lips.

Lorenzo continued, “They came in to Kismayo on a huge aircraft with civilian registration. My sources say that the aircraft dropped them and their equipment, then took off again back to South Africa. There’s few of them — less than twenty —, but they are to join the security force already at the construction site. I believe they are only there in an advisory capacity, not to do any physical safeguarding of the plant itself.”

“Well, this is news! Why should a civilian outfit be housed at the UN Compound?” Lorenzo mused.

“Not that unprecedented. Many civilian engineers and personnel working for the UN have been housed there in the past. So, not so unusual. Besides, this water desalting thing is a UN sponsored undertaking.”

“I did not know...” Lorenzo said, hiding that he did, in fact, know all about the security contingent, and the water desalination plant. But the twenty odd South African security guards were a bit of a surprise. Twenty seemed a bit too many for only an advisory squad, but then again, not much to give any sort of real security. Maybe it is his chance to get to know them and see if his plan can work.

“Something else was also curious. Just after the South African aircraft took off back home again, three old ex-Peruvian military jets and one ex French jet landed to refuel while on a ferry flight to the Middle East. Israel maybe. It seems like they left again as they are not parked there now.”

“Why do you say that it is curious?” Lorenzo asked.

“Well, they were all piloted by South Africans,” Alfonso answered, and Lorenzo felt his heart miss a beat. “Well, I think that they might be on their way to Israel, as South Africa and Israel worked together on the Mirage III fleet: converting them to Kfir standard and the Denel Cheetah aircraft. But it is curious. They must have left after dark because nobody reported seeing them go.”

Lorenzo knew full well that Alfonso did indeed have aviation knowledge and would know the different aircraft that landed and took off at Kismayo. He asked, “You still fly and still have that old Piper aircraft of yours, Alfonso?”

“I don’t fly anymore. I still have the Piper, but I’m thinking of selling it. How long are you staying, Lorenzo?” Alfonso changed the subject.

“Until you can resume your duties again, my friend.”

“Well, that can be awhile still. You must be tired after your long journey. Why don’t you go rest up a while, and I will in the meantime contact the compound commander and tell him we’ll be in attendance tonight?”

“That sounds good, my friend. I think I will go freshen up a bit.” Lorenzo drained his tea and placed the China cup back on the silver tray on the coffee table between Alfonso and himself.

“Good then. Let me show you where you can stay while you are here,” Alfonso offered and got stiffly up out of his chair.

Things were falling into place for Lorenzo. He smiled and got up himself, thinking of the useful information that Alfonso so willingly told him. Why did the South Africans refuel here in Kismayo and not at Mogadishu? Curious. He must determine if the military jets did in fact leave. He has to make contact with this South African Security team.

Kismayo Airport, Kismayo, Somalia. 11:25 (GMT+3)

Following TC and his three Land Rovers across the semi-desert of Lower Jubba went without a problem. TC and his crew made it to the construction site and spent about an hour there with the construction crew. TC and the squad withdrew, and we covered them on the 18 kilometres back to the airport.

As we safeguarded the BO-105 in the old hangar next to the Mirage ‘hideout,’ Ash’s cell phone vibrated in his pocket.

“Damn! Not now! Can’t they SEE I’m busy...” Ash scolded as he retrieved the phone out of his pocket, looked at the display, sighed, and stepped away from the helicopter.

“Interesting morning...” Darya mused as she unhitched the .50 from the mounting at the side of the helicopter. “Let me go clean and oil this thing.”

“Yeah, SOP (Standard Operating Procedure)!” Mai-Loan chirped, and also unhitched her .50 Browning. “Looks like we might need these again...”

“Well, a blessing that we had them and this kite this morning! Else TC and the AU guys would have been in big trouble!” I added.

“Yeah, I meant to ask you, how in the world did you two come about this bird?” Darya asked.

“Ask Ash, he found it. I just fly it.”

“Well, looks like we are going to do a Combat Air Patrol every time TC leaves the base!” Mai-Loan offered her advice.

“In that case, we’ll need someone to fly this bird when I need to fly the Mirage,” I said, and raised my eyebrow at Mai-Loan.

“Don’t look at me!” she replied, “I have more fun with this five-oh,” Giggle.

“What about Lorie, she can surely fly this bird.” Darya offered.

“I’ll have to check with Ash. He will know if she is type rated on it.”

“In the meantime, let’s go check if there’s something wet and cold on this airport. A Coke or Pepsi would be just right for the dust in my throat,” Darya suggested.

“Good call, but let’s wait on Ash,” Mai-Loan replied.

So, we waited.

Meanwhile, Ash took his call outside the hangar.

“Hi Charley! What’s up?”

“I got some news for you.”

“Not more bad news?”

“Why ‘more bad news’; what happened?”

“TC and the AU guys ran into an ambush this morning.”

“SHIT!”

“No casualties.; only a few scrapes and bruises, and one less AU personnel carrier,” Ash said and related to Charley the unfolding of the incident. For a few moments there was silence on the line. Then Charley spoke:

“I was afraid of that. Those Alli-babas are as devious and cunning as the devil itself. You must sleep with your eyes open...”

“We will. Roxy and Angie are getting all the data they can lay their pretty little hands on.”

“So, you managed to salvage a helicopter?”

“Yes. To be honest, it’s a good airframe. Ronny is good at flying it, and I promised him he could keep it when we return.”

“That’s okay! Makes him feel part of the family.” Chuckle. “Else he’ll be the only one around without his own little birdie.”

“Let’s hope so. He is a skilled pilot, and I can get some good hours out of him. Even Angels Express Logistics expressed the desire to have him fly the Herc and some of their other choppers. That will keep him around ... But even without the BO-105, looks like he has two little birdies of his own.”

“He has other aircraft?” Charley asked.

“Nope. I was referring to Darya and Roxy.”

“I told you so!” Chuckle. “Now, include in your intel the name ‘Lorenzo Romano,’ Father ... Lorenzo Romano. He is a Roman Catholic priest from Mogadishu, and is now in Kismayo. He arrived this morning, incognito and secretly.”

“Are you joking? Why should I worry about a priest?”

“Nope! The Somali Security have an eye on him. They suspect he might be the link between al-Qaeda and al-Shabaab.”

“Now you are joking! A Catholic Priest! No way.”

“Do you doubt my intel?”