THE HIT BACK SERIES (Order From Chaos)

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter fifteen

{Present day}
“The British confirmed the leaked RIRA video was doctored and a propaganda of sort.” Audrey Atwood declared to the weary, sagging faces from across her in the SCIF hall.

The Hispanic—Esperanza rose gingerly to the occasion, snagging off everyone’s attention with a clear of her throat. “With that declaration, I guess it’s high time we double back on Arnold’s earlier hypothesis and treat our enemies as one. So as to further bolster our knowledge of their aims and objectives, and who can say, what they intend to gain from their havoc-wreaking.”

“Speaking of what they stand to gain,” It was Aslam that cut in this time. “If all they seek for is our attention, I think they can be quite assured they’ve got more than they wished for.”

“Their aims are as clear as day. But what more lie in store, I’m afraid will be worse.” Arnold argued from an analytical standpoint.

“And as we’ve no current lead, I can very well say we’re good as blind at the moment,” Wycliffe added a little gloomy.

“Spaz some guys! The IOC just activated hundreds of its credible assets abroad to avert yet another 9/11 in the making.” Audrey said cheerily in her attempt to lighten up the room’s atmosphere.

“It’s already three weeks on Audrey.” There was no taking away the pessimism that laced Aslam’s tone as he countered back.

“Anyways, I think we’re actually making a huge headstart.” She knew right then she had patently failed at her dry humor.

“In any news, we don’t get to play sitting ducks guys,” Wycliffe informed in the most professional tone he could conjure. “Dig some more! Link up more dots from past and present. I’m sure we’ll arrive at something we might have missed before.”    
{Couple months back}
For some people, they awoke to the gay chirping of birds. For many others, they awoke to the hum and whirr of vehicles in a waking city. For these three, however, they had woken to the first call of the Muezzin. The sound spawning from within the enclave of Yakeen’s compound had sifted from within there to a quarter-mile radius.

The day rolled in fast after the morning prayer and before the sun was up, the usual daily drills were halfway done. Falling inch-perfect into the ranks, they had begun their day just like everyone in the compound, with normal field training; encompassing a forty-five minutes run and intensive stamina tests.

A short while after, they hit the make-shift gym center—a big hall of the sort that could easily have passed for any other facility, putting body and soul to a solid test. Though lasting but an hour, the gyming session had opened the floodgates to the core essential test of every other day.

The short walk to the shooting range took them across a long, strait passageway, down a flight of stairs, which fed straight into a basement level in the building.

For a structure reared up by people who held something against Western values, the shooting range was a top, with set-ups like firing lines and contrivances such as; …. and metal-plated bullet traps. And unlike the part above ground level, the walls on every side of the range were poured concrete, along with its floor, which also is slightly slanted from uprange.

The militants along with the trio filtered right into each firing line picked their weapon of choice from a platform strewn with light and medium-range firearms, slid in full clips into chambers, and stood legs astride with their guns trained at the targets.

In the minutes that followed, the shooting range was rented with a loud cacophony of gunfire bursts and the pungent smell from lead discharge.
*****
It can well begin with his head that spun around in the characteristical manner of an owl as he scanned the room. Or perhaps, with the urgency with which he worked while he scoured through the luggage haphazardly arranged in a corner of the room. He wasn’t stealing anything, far from it. But the tense state of his body language gave all the implications he was up to no good.