by Laura Acton
Staring at Dan in the little circle of light, Bram replied, “Kettle meet pot. Your chest, buddy. You got slammed damned hard when it slipped.”
“Fine, but I’m not getting chewed out by Jon if you get hurt worse,” Dan stated drily. He inserted the long metal bar in the gap created and applied all his strength to lever the doors apart. When one side popped, Bram and Dan worked together with the help of two other men to wrench them open enough so Dan could slip in.
Once inside the back, Dan shone the light around taking stock. He reached for the closest girl, checking her pulse—strong. He moved around cautiously in the dark interior and checked each girl without shifting them. Dan breathed a small sigh of relief when he found them all alive with strong pulses, even though they were bloody from cuts to their heads and unconscious.
Dan unmuted his headset. “Tia, we have eight young girls and one adult female in need of EMS. The truck driver most likely needs help too. I don’t dare move the woman or girls. I don’t know what type of injuries they may have besides the obvious head wounds. What’s the ETA on ambulances?”
Tia typed out a message to the EMS dispatcher and received a fast reply. “Sorry, ten to fifteen minutes. I’ll update them with the number of injured.”
Dan remained in the van to monitor the children as Bram, with the help of several men, put out flares to warn oncoming traffic of the accident and danger of roaming cows. An older woman offered to sit with the dazed semi driver and brought him a blanket as he appeared shocky.
After about ten minutes, one girl started to come around. Dan shifted closer to her. “Don’t move. Stay still. You’re going to be okay.”
Frightened eyes full of pain peered up at him. “Mom?”
Dan put a hand lightly on her arm trying to calm her. “Your mom is alive. I need you to stay very still. Please.” He could see she was anxious and wished he could give her more reassurance, but he wouldn’t lie. Dan glanced around for a way to distract her until EMS arrived. He registered they all were dressed as milkmaids. Strange. “Are you on your way someplace special?”
“A holiday choir program at the church. We are singing the twelve days of Christmas. We’re the eight maids a milking.”
At the sounds of sirens in the distance, Dan gave the girl a reassuring smile. “Help is almost here. Do you hear the sirens?”
The girl’s eyes slipped closed. Dan reached out and took her pulse. It was thready now. Crap! No. She’s too young to die.
Several ambulances, EMS rigs, and one firetruck arrived.
Dan crawled out of the van when the firefighters brought the jaws of life and ripped off both doors allowing the EMTs to have access to the injured girls. Dan pointed to one girl saying, “She regained consciousness for a minute or so. She was coherent but slipped unconscious again. Pulse is slow and thready.”
As the paramedics and firefighters worked to secure the unconscious young girls in neck braces and onto backboards, Dan and Bram stood out of the way. The female driver came around as the medics pushed her gurney towards an ambulance. Her worried eyes met Dan’s before they closed.
Her eyes lit a fire in Dan’s gut. The idiot driver who caused this mayhem needed to be brought to account for her actions. Glancing around, Dan noticed several police units had arrived. They were probably the ones the team was waiting on. Officers directed traffic around the accident, and several attempted to corral the scattered cattle. Dan wanted nothing to do with cows ever since contracting Q fever.
Shades and memories of Sara lying dead on the sidewalk tried to enter Dan’s mind. He pushed them down hard, but bit out angrily, “What could be so important that idiot woman would blow through the stop sign and cause this? Those little girls were on the way to sing Christmas carols. Now they’re on the way to the hospital. Just because she couldn’t be bothered to stop.”
Tia’s eyes flashed as the information she wanted appeared on her screen. “I have an address based on the license. It’s about eight miles from your location.”
Dan glanced at Bram. “You up for paying the driver a visit to find out?”
“Yeah.” Bram watched as the last of the tiny girls were loaded into an ambulance, thoughts of his own daughters flooding his mind. “This is a senseless and avoidable tragedy. Yeah! Let’s go arrest this asshole.”
Dan’s eyes rounded in surprise hearing Bram call a woman an asshole. But then again, eight girls and their mother were injured for no damned reason.
Having listened in from the time Bram reported the collision to Tia, Nick called out, “Guys.”
Fairly sure the boss would tell them to stand down, Dan preempted him by saying, “Boss, besides failing to yield right-of-way, the careless driver fled the scene of an accident she triggered, leaving ten people injured. If any of them die, there will be additional criminal charges. The units have their hands full with corralling beasts. Dazed and wounded cows are roaming all over the place. She needs to be held accountable for her actions.”
Nick removed his hat and rubbed his face. The rest of the team would likely be stuck at the farmhouse for a while longer if the patrol units were engaged with the accident and unable to secure this area until the investigators got here to take over. “Bram, how are you feeling?”
“Good to go. No headache or signs of a concussion. My shoulder is sore, but I’ve worked with worse pain.”
Not happy about it, but believing that merely talking to a woman wouldn’t strain his men, Nick acquiesced. “Alright, but you go carefully. Check it out and report back.”
“Copy,” both said as they jogged to the SUV.
Dan slid into the driver’s seat. “Tia, who is the registered owner?”
“Ciar Holstein. He and his wife Blanche own a dairy named Vache Puante. Small family farm. They purchased it about a year ago.”
“Anything you can tell us about them?” Bram buckled up, wincing as he moved his arm.
“I’m checking. No felonies or civil offenses popped. Nothing really. I’ll dig and see what I can find for you.” Tia tapped away digging for details.
With nothing to occupy his time waiting for the patrol units, Loki pulled out his laptop. “Tia, send me the details too. I’ll help.” He began a search.
Vache Puante Dairy Farm – 6:10 p.m.
Dan slowed as he approached the remote dairy farm down the long dirt driveway. Well past sunset, the surrounding area was dark. Although, light could be seen coming from a large barn and from two windows in the modest home. The smell of manure seeped in through the vents, and the heated air made the stench overpowering.
“Vache Puante is an appropriate name for this farm,” Dan said.
Bram adjusted his headset. “Do tell?”
Dan wrinkled his nose at the offensive odor. “Well, Vache Puante translates from French as stinky cow.”
Chuckling, Bram pointed near a barn. “The truck.”
Dan halted near the red truck and put the SUV in park. “House or barn?”
“Barn first. More lights on and it looks like they have cows inside for milking,” Bram said as they exited the vehicle and went to the rear to gear up.
“Okay. Not looking forward to being on a dairy again.” Dan lifted the hatch.
Bram cocked his head at Dan’s words and tone. “Why?”
“I’ll tell you later. Let’s focus on finding out what was more important than halting at the stop sign.” Dan attached his Heckler & Koch MP5 to his tether.
Also latching his weapon to his strap, Bram nodded. “Agreed. But, I’ll hold you to telling me.” Bram locked the back they strode to the open barn doors.
Vache Puante Dairy Farm – Inside the Barn 6:15 p.m.
The guys entered and noted that indeed dozens of cows were being milked by machines, but otherwise the spacious interior appeared empty. They moved with caution as they checked down each aisle, finding more cows but no people. Coming to the central corridor, they observed eight tall metal milk tanks and overheard several raised female voices.
“Sounds like Russian to me, but I can’t make out their words with them shouting over one another.” Dan adjusted his grip on his submachine, not expecting trouble, but preparing anyway.
Bram announced loudly, “Police. Hello, is anyone in here? We are looking for Blanche or Ciar Holstein. We would like to speak with them.”
The voices stopped.
Bram started forward again. “Police, we need to talk with Ciar or Blanche Holstein. Please come out.”
Dan remained where he was, scanning the area, as Bram strode eight paces in front of him. He glimpsed a flash and yelled, “Bram, gun! Get back!”
His call was too late, a shot rang out, and Bram flew backward, knocked down and onto his left side. Bram’s MP5 dislodged from his hands as he hit the dirt floor, hanging by its tether next to him, as more shots were fired.
Dan rushed forward into gunfire, dirt spitting up from bullets striking the ground near him. His sole goal, grab Bram and drag him to safety. As his hand gripped Bram’s vest loop, Dan heard the whizzing of bullets flying past him. The sense of being in the heat of battle in Afghanistan pumped his adrenaline allowing him to easily drag Bram’s substantial weight behind the metal tanks as semi-automatic gunfire continued to rain around them.
Once sheltered, at least for the moment, Dan rapidly assessed Bram checking for wounds. He noted Bram was not bleeding even though his breaths were erratic. He spied the mangled bullet in Bram’s Kevlar while Bram struggled to regain the air which had been forcefully expelled from him.
Between panting breaths, as pain seared his chest, Bram ground out, “In my … vest.” He grimaced as he tried to sit up.
Dan pushed him down. “Stay put.” A small bit of relief entered Dan, but they weren’t safe yet. Dan turned his attention to locating the source of the gunfire. That needed to be his primary focus. If he didn’t do that, then he couldn’t get Bram out of here. Bram’s not taking another hit, and I refuse to allow his girls to become fatherless tonight. Dan warily peered around the corner of one tank. “Boss, we’re in a dairy barn and taking heavy fire from multiple shooters. I don’t have a bead on them. Bram took a hit in his vest.”
Nick was on edge as was every other member of the team by what they listened to over their headsets. He directed Ray and Loki to take custody of all the subjects and motioned for Jon and Lexa to follow him. He sprinted to an SUV. “Can you get out?”
Bullets continued to ping off of the dairy tanks and several pierced the overhead plastic tubing leading from the cows being milked to the storage tanks. Warm fresh milk began to shower down on Dan and Bram.
Dan shifted out of a stream of milk as he answered, “Not sure. We’ve taken cover by some metal milk tanks, three aisles in.” He wiped the liquid from his eyes and moved again when another leak sprung from a different pipe. Dan advanced to the edge of the tanks to try to determine the positions of the gunmen to neutralize the threats.
Bram managed to control breathing as Dan checked things out. Damn that hurt, but at least it doesn’t feel like any ribs are cracked or broken. My vest did its job protecting me. Damn glad the first shot was to my chest and not my head.
Able to speak, Bram communicated, “Boss, it was out of the blue. We overheard female voices arguing, and I announced us. They started firing before we even saw anyone.”
“Shit!” Dan exclaimed as several rounds hit the dirt within inches of his face as he searched for the shooters. He pulled back and glanced at Bram. Shots continued to ping for several minutes while Dan tried to work out a plan of escape for them. “Too many shooters and unknowns.”
Anticipating Pastore’s need, at the sound of shots, Tia had dispatched another TRF team. She informed Alpha Team, “Bravo Team on their way and more units heading to take custody of the bank robbers.”
As another pipeline split wide open, Dan was drenched with another torrent of warm milk. He grumbled, “I damn well better not end up with Q fever.” He moved as best as he could out of the stream which was not successful since milk poured out of all the tubing above them.
Dan studied Bram a moment. “Can you run?”
Bram nodded as he inhaled more deeply.
Taking another quick look around the tank, Dan said, “I’ll draw their fire while you high-tail it to the next aisle. Then you can cover me.”
Bram assumed a crouched position, wincing in pain and his breath caught. He prepared his MP5 to fire and himself to run. This is gonna suck.
Dan prepared to lay down cover fire. He took several deep breaths. “We need to get the hell out of here before they surround us or block our exit. Otherwise, we’ll be sitting ducks.”
When the hailstorm attack ceased abruptly, Dan and Bram paused, wondering what changed. The only sounds now … dripping milk and Bram’s labored breathing as he tried to control the pain in his chest.
SUV En Route to Vache Puante Dairy Farm – 6:20 p.m.
Nick peered at Jon who was driving. “This isn’t good. What the hell did they walk into?”
“I don’t know, but we’re getting them out of there.”
Tia called out, “Bravo Team fifteen minutes out.”
Jon said, “We’ll be there in ten.”
“Tia, redirect at least one unit at the accident scene to Loki and Ray. We have active shooters. I need them here, not babysitting a crime scene and subjects who are in custody,” Nick directed.
“Trying, Boss. They state the cows are a risk to the public, so they’re focusing there,” Tia relayed.
Rarely out of control, Nick’s voice came out harsh, “Try harder!”
“Yes, sir,” Tia responded in a clipped tone.
“Dan, status?” Nick demanded when the shooting stopped.
Kettle and Pot in the Line of Fire
32
December 19
Vache Puante Dairy Farm – Inside the Barn – 6:25 p.m.
Into the silence, a female voice with a heavy Russian accent called out from somewhere behind them. “Too late, you’re sitting ducks. Drop your weapons and come out now or we open fire from all sides.”
“Boss, how far?” Dan whispered.
“Five minutes.” Nick glanced at Jon wishing they were closer. So much could happen in only seconds, let alone minutes. His guys needed them there.
“We need to stall until the team gets here,” Bram murmured.
Dan nodded, and his voice muted, “You talk, I’ll scan for subjects. They might show themselves now.”
Bram took a steadying breath to calm his nerves. Stalling for that long isn’t an easy task. Start with our original purpose that will buy some time. “We only want to talk to Ciar or Blanche Holstein. Are either of them here?”
“No,” the woman responded.
Not so dormant ingrained behaviors, which kept him and his brothers safe for years, resurfaced with a vengeance in this life and death circumstance. Dan analyzed the situation with an eye on getting him and Bram out alive—targets be damned. He searched for targets and located three who were now somewhat visible in the direction from which the shots originated. He couldn’t see their weapons, but their positions afforded them cover. If he was fast enough, he could take out two of the three.
His sharp eyes continued to scan, finding two more targets to their right and one to the left of them. He plotted out his moves and the angles of fire necessary to give Bram the best chance at survival. He could take out three of the six while under cover, and two more if he exposed himself, which left one for Bram. Doable. He transmitted the sitrep to his CO. “We’re surrounded. Six targets acquired. I can dispatch five no problem. Permission to fire at will, Sir.”
Ah shit! Bram’s head whipped to Dan, noting his body language, as well as his words, screamed badass Special Forces soldier in kill mode. It was frightening to witness Dan in this frame of mind. Bram swallowed a lump in his throat thinking of how many years Dan spent
dealing with conditions which would hone and perfect the vision before him.
Jon almost said yes, but stopped himself when he realized the terms Dan used. He glanced at Nick to see if he registered the same. He did. Not good.
Lexa’s gut twisted as she listened. Dan’s words shocked them all. She spoke into the void he created. Her voice pitched soft hoping to recall Dan to the present. “Dan, subjects, talk before tactics. We’re almost there.”
Hearing Lexa’s voice shifted Dan’s mind. Shit, did I actually request authorization to kill them? He blew out a ragged breath. “Yeah, got it.”
Nick regrouped, realizing they faced six armed subjects, and Dan’s and Bram’s lives hung in the balance. Dan’s skills might be the only thing which kept them alive, so he authorized lethal force. “Stall, but do what you must to stay alive. I trust you to adhere to the priority of life protocol. PapaGulf.”
Relief rolled through Bram when Dan’s demeanor changed. Gone was the hardened soldier and in its place, was the man he had come to know well. The one who wanted a different way than killing. He thought a moment then engaged the subjects. “The Holstein’s truck is parked outside. I presume they must be here somewhere.”
A tall blonde woman laughed as she stepped into view with a dark brunett as they aimed their guns towards the tanks.
Dan’s eyes narrowed in on the weapons they carried. “Crap, they’re armed with SR-2 Veresk submachine guns. I’ve seen the damage those can do. Russian with 9×21mm Gyurza rounds, designed to defeat body armor.”
The blonde grinned. Roksana enjoyed gaining the upper hand. “You know your weapons. Yes, we’re loaded with Gyurza ammo. So, as I said, drop your guns now, or we drop you where you stand.”
Bram didn’t want to disarm if at all possible so tried a delaying tactic. “Where are Mr. and Mrs. Holstein? Have you done something with them?”
“Absolutely nothing. Now, this is the last time. The previous shots were only to pin you down. The next will be kill shots if you don’t come out.”
Nick’s stomach dropped. His men could die at any moment. He chose to remain positive. “Guys, we’ll get you out. Cooperate for now.”