The Shadow Patriots Box Set 2

by Warren Ray

  Vasquez couldn’t have picked a better location than the World Bank. This one would be seen by lots of influential people in the banking community.

  After seeing enough of the response, Green headed back to the office where his secretary, Grace, asked him about the posters.

  “Did hear about the posters making fun of Mister Perozzi?”

  Green nodded. “I just passed by the one on the World Bank.”

  “There’s a lot more than that one.”

  “How many you think?” asked Green.

  “I know of at least six others.”

  Green acted surprised.

  “There’s one at the top of a building. I just don’t know how they got up there,” said a confused Grace.

  “That is weird.”

  “I wonder who did them?”

  “Oh, I’m sure we’ll find out.”

  “They better hope not,” whispered Grace. “You know what happens to people like that.”

  Green didn’t answer her, and only nodded.

  Grace took a quick look out the office door and said in a low whisper. “They’re pretty funny if you ask me.”

  Green nodded again. He didn’t want to continue talking to her about this. He did find her response fascinating because she worked for the man who would give the orders to “black-bag” everyone involved. Regardless, even she had let her guard down to her boss and confided her approval. She was taking a risk doing that, but the shock of the whole thing must have released a repressed frustration of some sort to allow that one verbal faux pas.

  This is what Green found fascinating. If she reacted this way, then many more people around town were going to do the same thing. It would spread like wildfire, frightening some and giving hope to others, perhaps starting some dialog. That’s what was needed. Dialog. Bold dialog.

  After grabbing a cup of coffee, he entered his office and sat down. As soon as he did the phone rang. He heard Grace answer it and looked up when she came to his door bugged-eyed

  “Mister Reed is on the phone.”

  A shot of excitement burst through Green’s body knowing he must have heard about the street art. He took a sip of coffee before reaching for the phone.

  “This is Major Green.”

  “Major Green. How are you?”

  “Sir, I’m very well, thank you, but I’ve been worried about you. How are you?”

  “I appreciate your concern, Major, but you have nothing to worry about.”

  “So, what can I do for you?”

  “I heard some artist put up some interesting pieces last night.”

  The question gave Green pause. That was a strange way of describing vandalism. He needed to tread lightly here because Reed was obviously enjoying the negative art at the expense of his new nemesis, Perozzi. Green couldn’t show even the slightest bit of approval. Otherwise, Reed might catch on that he knew it was Perozzi who made the attempt on his life.

  “Yes, sir. I happened by one that was pasted on the World Bank.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Well, after driving by, I walked over to it.”

  “What was the picture?”

  Green purposely hesitated to pretend not to want to tell Reed. The old man was without a doubt enjoying this.

  “Go on, Major.”

  Green described the piece to him in full detail.

  “What was the people’s reaction?”

  Again, Green continued haltingly but made sure to relay to him how lots of people were laughing and taking pictures. Green could sense Reed’s elation through the phone.

  “All very interesting,” said Reed.

  “What are we going to do about it?” asked Green.

  “I think we should let the people have a little fun so they can blow off some steam. It’ll be good for morale, don’t you think?”

  “Yes, sir. I suppose so, sir.”

  “I’m instructing the National Police to back off for awhile, and we’ll see how this thing plays out.”

  Green had to fight off his impulse to let out a celebratory scream. “Is there anything else I can do to help you, sir?”

  “No, I think that will do for now. I appreciate what you did the other night, and I’ll not forget it.”

  “Yes, sir. Thank you.”

  “Goodbye, Major.”

  Green put the phone back in its cradle shaking his head in disbelief. He silently thanked himself for instructing Vasquez to concentrate on Perozzi. Not many people even knew who Reed was. Therefore, satire directed at him wouldn’t have been nearly as effective, and if they had ridiculed Reed, his response would have been entirely different.

  Chapter 63

  Jackson Michigan

  Nordell raised the binoculars and looked across the road. He couldn’t see them yet, but his spotters just reported troop movement on several streets heading toward Francis Street and East Washington Avenue.

  Colonel Ali Baba, as Nordell was calling him, was sending fighters in from two different directions. No doubt, they’ll come in from behind them as well.

  He called out to Bobby who was hiding on top of a warehouse building down by the railroad tracks on Washington Avenue. He was one block away from the side street Colonel Ali Baba would have to use enroute to Washington, as it was the next best road with direct access to downtown from the hospital. He wouldn’t use Michigan Avenue since it would be too obvious.

  “Nick, they’re turning onto Washington right now. There’s a bunch. I count fifteen vehicles, so close to a hundred I’d say.”

  This piqued Nordell’s attention. If he were sending a company one way, then he’d send another company the other way. This meant there would be two hundred fighters to engage.

  Bobby’s men were stationed in a warehouse area with plenty of long buildings to use as cover. “Bobby, I need for your team to light them up. Do not let them pass through Hupp Avenue. I repeat, do not let them get past that intersection.”

  “You got it, Nick.”

  Nordell then turned his attention to Francis Street. Again, an obvious choice for someone who didn’t know the town like he did. There were three or four streets the man would try to use, but all emptied out onto either Francis Street or Mechanic Street both of which he had barricaded.

  It was a residential neighborhood with plenty of houses to hide behind. He had placed thirty men throughout the area, and they would use guerrilla tactics by shooting and running to the next spot. The Jijis would suffer casualties before they’d be able to hit downtown and once they did, Nordell had his sharpshooters to finish them off.

  Gunfire started erupting from Bobby’s men, and after a few minutes of a non-stop barrage from M4’s, he started to hear the AK’s returning fire. Then, that was all he heard for the next excruciating five minutes. It was punctuated with two different explosions that shook the ground each time.

  Nordell’s confidence melted away once he heard the first explosion. He strained his ears for any more M4 fire but heard none.

  He yelled into the radio. “Bobby, what’s going on?”

  Nothing.

  “Bobby, what the hell’s going on?”

  Finally, he got a reply. “Nick, we’re about done for. They got most of us on the run.”

  Furious blood rushed to Nordell’s head. When Murphy’s Law visited, things went south in a hurry, and he had just paid them a visit, and as usual, it wasn’t pleasant. The Jijis would be able to flood downtown from all directions.

  This wasn’t good, but stopping them was still doable because he had the bridges barricaded, and he had shooters on top of all the buildings. He also had the SAW and three RPGs left. He wasn’t done by any stretch of the imagination.

  Sporadic gunfire from the north disrupted his thoughts. The shooting stopped for a minute before resuming. Nordell nodded his head. That’s what he wanted to hear. Off and on shooting. His guys were doing what they were supposed to do.

  Vehicles in the distance caught his attention. He hustled to the other end of th
e rooftop and raised the binoculars. Three vehicles approached the barricade at Washington Avenue. He watched as his men started firing at them.

  The Jijis took up defensive positions, after a few minutes they returned fire. It looked like his guys stopped them in their tracks, but then Nordell saw a Jiji shoulder an RPG. It took off and hit the barricade.

  The rocket punctured a hole into the side of the car before it exploded in a fireball. His guys hadn’t stood a chance. The concussion would have killed everyone around it.

  Nordell lowered his binoculars and let out a frustrated sigh. The enemy had superior firepower and was using it effectively. His only hope was that they didn’t have too many rockets or enough launchers.

  He looked down at his own supply. He had three and would have to use them sparingly.

  The three-vehicle convoy moved up to the smoldering vehicles and pushed the remains aside as it rammed its way through.

  This must be the first of the fifteen vehicles Bobby had reported. He watched the first one start to come toward him on Washington Avenue.

  “About damn time,” he grumbled as he grabbed the SAW and racked the slide. He then ran back across the rooftop to other end and got down into a prone position placing the machine gun on the edge of the roof.

  The big M249 fired 750 rounds per minute with an effective range of 870 yards and a maximum range out to 3900 yards. It was a beast in the right hands, and the retired Marine had the right hands.

  The van stopped at Francis Street.

  “C’mon, ya little bastard,” Nordell said aloud. “Turn this way.”

  The van started moving again and continued up Washington, but the pickup behind it turned his way. The truck continued slowly on Francis Street with two men in the back shouldering AK’s. It stopped a half a block away when the driver saw the road blocked.

  Nordell took a deep breath and held it for a moment before exhaling. He lined up the shot and pulled the trigger. Bullets began slamming into the pickup truck. A couple of rounds hit a Jiji taking his head clean off while the next few rounds knocked his partner back into the bed in a bloody mess. The staccato fire punctured the windshield into a million pieces while taking out the driver and his passenger.

  It didn’t even take five seconds to remove the threat.

  Nordell swung the gun over to the right. The van that had passed by was now backing up on Washington to maneuver into a parking lot.

  “Dumbass,” said Nordell as he applied pressure to the trigger.

  Brass shell casings flew out as bullets ripped into the van. The driver was no longer in control, and the wheels turned left as it shot forward crashing into a building. The side door opened up with men tumbling out. Nordell felled the first two with non-stop jacketed bullets pouring into the van. Any other passengers inside didn’t stand a chance.

  Nordell stopped and grabbed his binoculars. The perforated van had no movement inside.

  He scooted his body over to the left swinging the big gun to search for the third vehicle. He didn’t see it.

  Whether they had heard the SAW ripping into the first two vehicles or saw them torn to shreds, Nordell would never know. Either way, it was sitting safely behind the building waiting. Were they waiting for backup or preparing for an assault?

  Nordell got a sinking sensation in his gut. These guys weren’t waiting for backup. They were getting into position to fire a damn RPG at him. On a gut instinct, he grabbed the SAW and rolled over a few times before getting up to run to the other side of the building.

  Just as he reached it, an RPG exploded on the very spot he just left. It shook the whole building and the concussion knocked him over.

  Chapter 64

  Nordell lifted up on his elbows and shook his head. His focus was foggy, so he rolled over on his back. He grabbed his water bottle and poured it on his face. The fresh water began to do its work helping him regain his senses.

  Gunfire erupted across the street from his friend Hollis. This gave Nordell some relief, knowing that his guys were engaging.

  The building was on fire, and the smoke wafted over his head. He used the smoke as cover and crawled over to the edge to take a quick look. Just as he expected, Jijis began pouring out of vehicles in various areas.

  More gunfire from his guys up high kept the Jijis ducking for cover, but it wouldn’t last forever. If they were willing to waste an RPG on him, then no doubt they’d start using them on his snipers.

  The sound of both M4 and AK-47 was now echoing throughout the downtown area as his guys on the ground were getting into the mix.

  With the fire consuming the building Nordell didn’t have too much longer before he would have to vacate his position. Before he did, though, he’d continue to use the smoke for cover to look for another target he could take out. He’d only be able to do one more before the men in that third vehicle realized their RPG hadn’t taken him out.

  He grabbed his binoculars and scanned the area. He wanted a target with multiple Jijis.

  He finally found what he was looking for. Two more pickup trucks had just turned onto Cooper Street from Washington Avenue. They stopped in the middle of the street giving Nordell the ideal target.

  The Jijis in the back were sitting still, waiting for the trucks to start moving again, not realizing they were sitting ducks.

  Nordell grabbed one of his last three grenades and loaded it into the launcher. He got into a kneeling position and mounted the launcher on his shoulder. He took a breath before squeezing the trigger.

  The rocket bolted out of the launcher and sliced through the air leaving a trail of blue and white smoke. The round was on the money. It landed right in the bed of the first pickup tearing it off the vehicle and setting off a secondary explosion in the gas tank. The force of the explosion threw bodies out of both vehicles and a rolling fireball curled up into the sky.

  Nordell studied the area but didn’t see anyone looking in his position. Smoke from the fire was just over his head giving him complete cover. A slight breeze had moved his way, blowing the smoke right at him and making a hot day even hotter.

  Keeping his head low, he grabbed the SAW deciding to take advantage of his position one more time. He looked around for another large target but could only find small pockets of Jijis.

  Better than nothing.

  He took aim at three Jijis hiding behind a concrete building across the street. He fired a quick short burst. The first rounds hit high throwing rock chips at his targets. He readjusted and fired again. These shots took out two forcing the third to run. Nordell tried to follow but was too late before one of his guys hit him in the chest.

  He wondered which of his snipers got him. Didn’t matter, he’s dead.

  The smoke was beginning to choke him. It was time to go. He got up and grabbed his gear.

  Overall, it hadn’t been too bad a firing position. The fire was forcing him to leave, but these types of positions were never long-term anyhow. You squeezed out what you could before getting the hell out of there. He had successfully taken out three vehicles and killed an untold number of Jijis. Not bad.

  Once on ground level, he scooted out the back door into a small alley and jogged back over to Michigan Avenue. So far, their vehicles blocking the street were helping, but he realized Jijis were everywhere now. He dumped the remaining grenades in his pickup and grabbed another box of ammo for the SAW.

  It was about to get messy with up-close fighting. It would be block-to-block style and floor-to-floor.

  He pulled his radio out to get a SITREP from his guys.

  Not everyone reported in, which meant he had casualties. He looked up at the top of the building where Hollis was when he reported in.

  “We’ve taken out a quite a few, but there’s just so many of them.”

  “Tell me where.”

  “Cooper Street. They’re trying to find ways to get across the river. They’re jammed up there because we’ve got Francis covered. Get over there, and you’ll find them starting to come i
n.”

  If the Jijis could cross Cooper Street, then they’d be able to get over to Washington Avenue, which was now open to them. That revelation hit him hard because the enemy would eventually figure out they could come in from behind his guys. Bobby reported fifteen vehicles and only five had exposed themselves, one of them was the third vehicle which was still hiding. This one would probably be the first to realize that they could come in from behind and take out a barricade.

  Nordell looked down Michigan Avenue toward city hall. He still had shooters in those tall buildings that hadn’t engaged yet. They had a nice size kill-box waiting for the enemy to drive into. They would wait until they had a large number before firing.

  He yelled for some of his guys to jump in the back of his pickup. He then hauled ass over to where the third vehicle was still hiding.

  He turned the corner and saw it up ahead. He yelled for his guys to be ready. He slowed down as he closed in on it expecting to be fired upon.

  “Where the hell were they?”

  He stopped his truck fifty feet away from the third vehicle. He jerked his head from side-to-side looking for them. Not seeing them made him realize they were already sneaking in on the barricade just up the street.

  Again, blood rushed to his head as he let off the brake and floored the gas pedal.

  “Hang on,” yelled Nordell as he made a hard left turn.

  There they were. There were three of them, and one had the launcher on his shoulder getting ready to fire.

  Chapter 65

  Nordell floored the gas pedal to reach the Jijis before they could fire on the barricade but it was too late. The RPG took off before he reached them. However, it didn’t prevent him from ramming the Jijis who were standing in the middle of the road admiring their handiwork. They were sitting ducks.

  One managed to jump out of the way, as Nordell slammed into the other two. One flew up in the air before landing on the hood. His bloody corpse slid off the passenger side while the wheels on the driver’s side bounced up and down as the truck ran over the second Jiji. The guys in the back opened fire at the third Jiji as he tried to run away. Multiple rounds dropped him like a sack of flour.