Mitchelli strapped the pole to the tree, then collapsed falling to the ground. He lied on his back staring at the full moon. He had worked nonstop for two nights and he was exhausted. His hands were shaking and he could hear his heart pumping. One more day and I am done. He had reached his limits; he desperately wished he could speak with his wife and he missed his children. He wanted his life back. My family’s better off without me. He had to get up, but his body would did not respond. He began to panic. Had he pushed himself too hard and was now suffering a stroke? His body paralyzed and pinned to the forest floor, he suddenly remembered feeling this sensation before, weeks ago in the FBI conference room. When Freed told him the traffickers were after the Marauder. Ann, I saw Ann!
“How are the kids? Have you even checked on them since you decided to go camping?” Ann suddenly appeared from behind a tree, her skin shimmering in the moonlight. Her dark brown hair softly fell around her face as if it was the first time they met thirty years ago. Her nails were painted red, perfectly manicured. Her tight designer jeans hugged her body, as did her red silk blouse; her shapely figure was that of a teenager.
It can’t be, it’s my imagination. I have to fight this. I’m not crazy. Mitchelli sat up, using the tree to pull himself to his feet standing near his deceased wife. “Ann, you’re not here, you can’t be.”
“Are you going to check on the kids?” She came closer to him.
“Yes.” Why am I answering she’s not here, she’s not here! “You’re so young, it can’t be you.”
“You have to finish this, if anything for the kids. They need their father.”
Mitchelli couldn’t take his eyes from her face, “Remember I’m not a good father? They should have a real father, not me.”
“You’re almost finished and you’re already giving up, convincing yourself that your family is better off without you.”
Mitchelli looked into her large brown eyes. “I’m sorry we didn’t spend more time together, just the two of us.”
“I see, you miss me so much you found not one but two girlfriends. Three years without dating and you’re involved with two women!”
Mitchelli hesitated. “It’s not like that, and you know it. I screwed up. I buried your dreams and shoved mine down your throat. I have to be with you!”
“You’re kidding, right? How could you use me? I never regretted the life we had together, you’re hiding from the truth Peter. You’ve convinced yourself along with everyone else that you’re miserable because you failed to give me my simple life. I have no regrets. You can’t live with the things you’ve done,” Mitchelli turned away from his wife as she continued. “You trust the FBI to protect your children, those so-called professionals. They have no idea who they recruited as their civilian operative. My God, if they knew what you’ve done, or what you’re capable of doing. Your long nights out…I was so stupid for a while; I thought you were with another woman. The horrific headlines in the newspaper the day after your long nights out weren’t merely a coincidence: Gangster Brutally Slain. Like a fool, I chose not to believe; but lying beside you in bed listening to you scream in terror, I knew then their faces were haunting you in your sleep.”
“I had no choice.”
“Everyone has choices, but killing comes easy for you Peter; it’s the living that you struggle with. Let me clue you in; it’s not your time. Killing yourself is not going to solve anything.”
“Ann, I can’t win this war. My mind’s going to kill me; the kids are temporary distractions from insanity.”
“Killing yourself is not a solution!” Mitchelli eyes blinked then winced. “You’re thinking about letting those bastards kill you. You’re on suicide mission!”
“It’s the only way we can be together, Ann.”
“You’re wrong. Tell me what it felt like when you held Angela, or when you kissed Melanie.” He said nothing, and she yelled, “God damn it, answer me!”
“It felt like our first kiss. If felt like falling in love. Ann, I look for you in crowds. I expect you to be home when I walk in the door. Melanie’s eyes, her hair and lips, I look at her and I see you. It’s not right; I’m searching for you in Melanie and Angela.” He moved towards his wife. “It doesn’t matter if I’m with the kids, Angela will take care of them.”
“You’re wrong, the children need you. Don’t you give up, Peter. Promise me you’ll bring our kids home.” Ann touched her lips to her husband’s.
Ann, don’t go! Suddenly, raindrops hit Mitchelli’s face. He opened his eyes. He was still lying on the forest floor in the exact location he had collapsed. He put his fingers to his lips; he could still feel Ann’s lips against his, as real as when he had kissed Melanie. Then a new obsessive thought filled his mind: Bring our kids home? What did she mean by that? They are home! He had to get down the hill to his ranger and send the time and coordinates for the extraction team. The rain increased to a downpour and his clothes were soaking wet within moments. He ran downhill to his base camp; the coordinates had to be sent.
***
Coast Guard Anson Thomas escorted the Mitchelli children and MacJames to the bridge of the Coast Guard Cutter Belinda. Captain Rose had requested their presence. MacJames and the children were wearing coastguard uniforms specially tailored to their bodies. MacJames repeatedly complained that her uniform was too tight. The ship’s tailor lacked the experience to tailor women’s garments. Female crewmembers were either too big or too small to exchange clothes with MacJames. The male crew members welcomed MacJames, and stole occasional glances at the Deputy Director’s form fitting jeans and straining buttons of her blouse.
The Captain jumped out of his chair and welcomed his passengers to the bridge. “Ms. MacJames, it’s a privilege to have you and your children aboard.”
“Captain Rose. Thank you, but they are not…”
Captain Rose quickly interrupted her, “I’m sorry for my confusions. Our orders misrepresented the children as yours. HLS was very specific that you were in charge of the children.” The Captain looked at her shirt buttons buckling under the weight of her breasts pushing them apart. MacJames looked at the Captain and crossed her arms over her chest. “I apologize for your clothes,” he said. “A shipment will arrive tomorrow with your correct size.” The Captain took off his windbreaker and placed it over MacJames shoulders covering up her bulging chest.
“Captain, we were told Peter will be taking his State Regency exams tomorrow?”
“Yes, the examiner will arrive tomorrow morning. Has our navigator Anson Thomas been sufficient as a tutor?” The brunette Anson was efficient in her duties as well as being youthfully beautiful.
Peter Jakob’s eyes widened. “She’s been awesome!”
Kaitlin said, “Admiral, he only says that because he’s in love with her.”
Peter Jakob’s face turned red as he smiled. MacJames pulled him close to her, rubbing his shoulders. The Captain winked at the embarrassed boy as he kneeled in front of Kaitlin. “Ms. Kaitlin, are you still having difficulties sleeping?”
Kaitlin whispered to the Captain, “Admiral, that is a secret. I don’t want Peter to know, he’ll call me a baby.”
“Well Ms. Kaitlin, the Admiral in charge of this amphibious fleet wants you to sleep tight. You’ve been through quite an ordeal and he wants you to know the sailors assigned to protect you are ready. You have nothing to fear. Before we have dinner tonight the Admiral wanted you and your brother to see a demonstration of our plan to protect you and your brother.”
They followed Captain Rose to the forward observation window. He lifted Kaitlin into the Captain’s seat, elevated four feet above the deck. Peter Jakob jumped into the seat next to his sister.
“Wow, this is just like the movie Midway!” Peter Jakob exclaimed as he leaned forward in the Captain’s seat.
The children could see the entire foredeck, the computer controlled turret with its cannon pointing over the bow. They counted the ships surrounding the Coast Guard cruiser that dotted the
ocean around the Belinda.
The Captain pulled the telephone handset off the counsel adjacent to his chair. “Kaitlin and Peter Jakob, I want you both to repeat after me and say ‘Mike, Tango Tango.’” The children repeated the words. “Very good. Now I want you to repeat those words into the telephone handset.” The Captain pressed a button on the handset and held it in front of the children.
Peter Jakob and Kaitlin said in unison, “MIKE, TANGO, TANGO!” A loud horn sounded and a voice commanded over the loud speaker mounted above the window, “General quarters, general quarters, all Crewmen to their battle stations.” Armed guards suddenly appeared, securing all access to the bridge. Two armed guards stood by the Mitchelli children. The children rocked back in the Captain’s seat as the cruiser accelerated to attack speed. The gun turret on the foredeck turned to starboard at an imaginary target. The Captain directed the children’s eyes off the port bow just as a Dallas Class Nuclear attack sub broke through the ocean’s surface, a third of its hull leaping from the water. The sub’s hull slammed onto the ocean’s surface, displacing a giant wave. The children screamed with excitement; even MacJames gawked at the sub. Jets screamed by, one, two, three, four Harrier jets shot by and circled the amphibious fleet, their subsonic shock wave tickling the children’s chests. They watched as the Harriers turned in perfect formation.
“I hear helicopters!” Kaitlin shouted.
The whoosh, whoosh of helicopter blades filled the sound void left by the screaming jet engines. Two helicopters appeared taking position off each side of the bow, their door gunners scanning the horizon searching for the enemy.
MacJames’s hair blew over her face. “Captain we could have used those helicopters back in Buffalo, very impressive.”
The Captain held the handset in front of his mouth. “This is Captain Rose, Foxtrot Delta Charlie, secure from general quarters.” The armed guards saluted the Captain. He returned the salute and they lowered their arms and left the bridge as quickly as they had arrived.
***
Freed arrived at his office at six a.m., two hours ahead of the day shift. He was reviewing Hoss’s report on the attack at Mitchelli’s house when he heard a knock at his door.
Freed jumped in his chair. “Come in.”
“I can’t, the frickin’ door is locked!” The knob moved slightly but the door would not open.
Freed let Coarseni and Buckala into his office and closed the door behind them. “Dom, we still don’t know who the mole is, remember?”
“Ok, so shut the door, but why the hell do you have to lock it? I don’t have a door on my cubicle I can lock, how safe am I? Maybe I should come in your office and hide. What the hell is wrong with you, do you think someone’s going to come in your office and knock you off?”
“Ok point received, what do you want?” Freed was embarrassed by his paranoia.
Sal answered, “He did it, Mitchelli sent the coordinates for a landing zone for the extraction team for the missing agents. He also sent the coordinates for the camp and its buildings.”
Freed sat at his desk, “My God, I still can’t believe he found them on his own. We need to take control of the situation now. Contact him and make arrangements to get him out of there and we’ll initiate our seizure and extraction plan.”
“NO!” Coarseni stopped Freed.
“No? What do you mean? We have to tell him what our plan is.”
“He sent us the time for our assault, 0400 hours tomorrow.” Coarseni looked at his phone and read aloud, “LZ CHARGES SET, FOUR A.M. TOMORROW, WILL NOT CHANGE.”
“That prima donna SOB!” Freed’s face turned beet red. “He could’ve said the time cannot change, or he preferred it not to change. But no, he had to send, WILL NOT CHANGE!” Freed was yelling at the top of his lungs.
“Jesus, Roberto, let it go. He found them, that’s all that matters. Remember there’s a mole in the office--we need to keep this quiet. If word gets out they could move the men before our hit.” Buckala laid out the map of the hill on his desk, along with the coordinates of the camp and its buildings.
“I’ve had it with you, Sal. You’re out.” Freed pounded his fist on his desk. “This is an FBI operation. We can’t risk having you on the strike force.”
“That’s bullshit; I’ve earned my chopper ride. Mitchelli would want me there.” Buckala looked at Coarseni for back up.
“Bob he is part of Task Force E; it’s documented.”
Freed ignored Coarseni. “Sal, you’re right: we do have a mole, and it could be you. As of immediately, you’re off the task force. Dom, we need to organize our assault team. Escort Sal out of the building make sure he leaves everything related to the investigation here.”
Buckala was furious and he moved to get in Freed’s face. Coarseni grabbed Buckala’s arm, stopping him. “Chicken shit that’s what this is,” Buckala yelled. “My whole career I’ve put up this shit. I’m calling Molly!” Buckala stormed out of the office. He knew Mitchelli pissed Freed off whenever he mentioned Secretary Stuart’s assistant Molly Richards.
***
Buckala was stuck. An outcast from Buffalo PD, cut from Task Force E, he had no one to turn to. Mitchelli had never actually given him Molly Richards’ phone number, but he did give him the cell number to his reserve Sheriff, Captain Stephan Zachovich. Buckala sat in his car parked outside his house and stared at the slip of paper with Zachovich’s phone number written on it. What good is a reserve Captain? Why did Mitchelli give me his number? Buckala threw the paper on the floor of his car. He gazed at the Buffalo Central Train Station. Its gothic architecture dominated the surrounding Polish neighborhood. The sky was clear, and he gazed at a jet airliner as it turned to make its final approach to Buffalo International Airport for landing. The Central Terminal, blue sky, and the plane reflected on the cars window. Plane, aviation, the reserves have an aviation unit, HELICOPTOR! That’s my ride. He dove for the paper on the floor of his car and his head hit the dashboard as he rose he quickly to unravel the paper. He dialed the phone number.
“Zachovich,” the voice answered, half asleep.
“Captain Zachovich, Detective Sal Buckala, Buffalo PD Peter Mitchelli gave me your number.”
“You’re the asshole that’s been in the paper, the frickin snitch.”
Buckala had to control his anger. “Unfortunately.”
“Why the hell would Peter give you my number? I’m no dummy, you’re the reason he was on the news, you frickin’ corrupted him, you dago wop bastard. He comes from a good religious family.”
“He gave me your number because he knew I may need your help. I need a helicopter to help Peter.”
“What the hell do you need a helicopter for? Go to hell!” Zachovich hung up his phone. He lied in bed remembering the phone call he received from the Sheriff telling him Mitchelli was working with the FBI. Don’t ask any questions. Why would Mitchelli be working with the FBI? He opened his phone and quickly found the number Buckala had just called him from.
Zachovich spoke as soon as the line connected, “I’ll get you a helicopter under two conditions: I’m going with you, and you tell me how Mitchelli got his ass in a ringer.”
“Pick me up at the central terminal, two thirty a.m. and I’ll brief you on the way. Oh make sure the helicopter’s fully fueled; we’re going to the southern tier.”
“Done.”
Zachovich dialed Hy Steiner, the owner of the helicopter. “Steiner do you know how to fly that five million dollar frickin’ toy yet?”
“Oh Stephan, how are you?”
“I’m good. I’ll be at your hanger at one a.m., make sure the tank is topped off. We’re on Sheriff’s business. I don’t want to hear any yapping from you that you don’t want to get it dirty. I’ve carried your ass in the reserves for years and now I need you for something important. Don’t let me down.”
“I have to ask Shirley if I can go out tonight,” Steiner stuttered.
“You tell my frickin’ sister that you’re going wit
h me on Sheriff’s business tonight. Tell her to shut big yap.”
“Ok Stephan, I’ll tell her, but she gets nervous every time I put on my uniform.”
“Hey, you know how to fly that thing right? No bullshit? You’ve only had it two weeks.” Zachovich nervously asked.
Steiner held his manual in front of his face. “Oh, I read pretty fast. I have six hundred pages to read and there’s three hours till one o’clock, it may be tight.”
“Jesus Christ Steiner, I said one a.m.! You got another twelve hours.”
***
Mitchelli was beyond exhausted. He had worked for two nights placing the explosive charges for the landing zone in addition to placing scattered charges in the woods simulating a mortar barrage. The simulated mortar rounds were Coarseni’s idea. He thought it would confuse the enemy and keep them from scattering. Though exhausted, he could not rest; he had to get into position to watch the camp and its prisoners. His Mind Kill was working overtime. In addition to seeing his deceased wife, obsessive thoughts filled his mind. Kill yourself, you’re a failure as a husband and a father. You don’t deserve to live. You’re a murderer! His mind wore him down physically and mentally. The Mind Kill returned with a vengeance whenever he started and abruptly stopped taking Dr. Rubin’s prescribed antianxiety pills. Oddly enough, the side effects of the antianxiety pills were severe anxiety and depression.
Mind Kill- Rise of the Marauder Page 63