Operation Bayou Angel

by Margaret Kay

  Mother and Lambchop kept their weapons trained behind them, into the expanse of the empty manufacturing floor.

  “Understood,” Burke called back. He moved in close and crouched down behind Brielle.

  Sherman molded the small charge to the door between the keyhole and the door jamb. He pressed the remote detonator to it. He calculated the distance they needed to be back from the blast and moved to that point, three doors down from the target door. “Ready,” he called to Lambchop and Mother.

  They moved in close behind Sherman, Mother’s weapon and gaze behind them, Lambchop’s eyes peering through the darkness of the vacant manufacturing floor.

  “Three, two, one. Fire in the hole, fire in the hole, fire in the hole,” Sherman called in rapid succession and then he activated the detonator.

  The charge exploded, shattering the silence and throwing a cloud of smoke and debris into the air. That would surely get the attention of any guards in the area. Sherman went to the door and kicked it open. Burke met him near the door. Crouched in the corner, he saw Brielle and Tina who cradled her crying son. They were just pulling themselves to their feet.

  “Is everyone okay?”

  “Yeah,” Burke replied.

  “All targets acquired,” Mother broadcast from just inside the door.

  Sherman gave Brielle a quick embrace.

  “We need to move,” Mother said.

  “That asshole Spencer, took my primary weapon and our agency phones.”

  “I don’t think he’s been located yet,” Sherman said. “Come on.” He nodded towards the door.

  Mother moved in close to cover Tina. “Stay close to me. I’ve got you and your son,” he told her. He could see the terror in her eyes.

  Lambchop was in position nearby. “We need to get out of the open and get out of here.” A wide hallway lay to the left. “Does that lead back to the lobby?”

  “I think so,” Tina said with a shaky voice. The truth was, she really didn’t know.

  Lambchop covered their retreat from the open area. Sherman led the way into the hallway, keeping Brielle behind him. Burke was shadowing him, Mother leading Tina behind Burke. The shadowy hallway curved around what could only be a room and dead ended at two doors with no windows.

  Sherman made a fist, stopping the advancement of his teammates. He listened at the first door. He heard a muffled male voice. He pointed to his ear and then the door, the signal to his team that he heard something from inside the room. He pointed at Brielle and then at Mother, hoping she understood that he wanted her to get behind him, where Tina was. She did and moved there right away.

  He pointed at Burke and then the other door. Burke crept up to it and listened. He shook his head no. Just then the door Sherman had listened at, opened. He stood two feet away from it, his rifle aimed at it. He saw a gun in one of the man’s hands, a phone in the other. He squeezed off three rounds. With a painfilled grunt, the man dropped where he stood. Sherman kicked his handgun away, a .45. He recognized the man, dark red hair with a receding hairline, glasses.

  “Tango Keith Louis neutralized,” he broadcast quietly. Then Sherman scanned the interior of the room. No one else was within. It was the building’s security office, which was lined with monitors that were all down, thanks to Garcia.

  He rejoined the others in the hall. Burke still covered the other door. Sherman came in and turned the door handle. It was unlocked. He threw the door open. He and Burke both hurled themselves into the space, their weapons leading the way. They found themselves in the shipping and receiving dock with the two large garage doors. This was not the door that Brielle and Burke had been brought through. Burke looked to his left and identified that door just as it opened.

  Sherman and Burke were in the open, no cover nearby. They both opened fire on the man they knew as Mike Spencer. Spencer hesitated and didn’t get off a shot. They hit him multiple times. His lifeless body crumpled to the ground.

  “Tango Mike Spencer neutralized,” Sherman broadcast through his comms.

  “Two Tangos down, third floor of the tower,” Cooper added. “Entering the cleanroom now.”

  Crouched in the hallway behind Danny, Brielle heard the gunfire and jumped. It was loud. Toby shrieked a shrill cry in response. Tina closed her eyes and fought to calm herself.

  Relief washed over Brielle when Brian and Rich came back into the hall. Thank God!

  Sherman pointed back towards the door. “The warehouse.” He’d prefer not to go into another large, dark space with little cover.

  A short burst of gunfire echoed down the hallway from the direction they’d come. “We’ve got company,” Lambchop’s voice came through the men’s comms. “Alpha Team, we’re in the south west area of the building.”

  Madison’s voice replied. “We’re in the tower in the cleanroom. Got a dozen Chinese women, making heroin laced stickers.”

  Before her, the women lay prone on the ground. On a shelf to her right that Cooper inspected, coils of heroin-laced stickers sat waiting distribution. At the door, Sloan covered the hallway, standing over the bodies of the two men they’d neutralized to gain access to the room.

  “They’ve super concentrated it so that the small one-hit dose is potent,” Madison added.

  “Delta, we need to move, now,” Lambchop’s voice was heard. “Coop, we could use a hand.”

  “I’d prefer not to go through the warehouse, but we need to get these civilians out of here,” Sherman said.

  “Sorry, the warehouse it is,” Lambchop said. “I’ve stopped two of them, know there are least three more back here.”

  “We’re on our way, Lambchop,” Cooper’s voice came through their comms. “Razor do you have a count on the number of Tangos at Delta’s location?”

  “Negative,” Garcia’s voice replied.

  Sherman locked eyes with Brielle. “Direct me, but stay behind me, in close.”

  She nodded. She watched as Rich went through the door first. She kept her hands pressed against Brian’s back and moved with him. To her left, she saw Rich go over to the body on the floor. The motionless man’s chest was soaked with blood. She didn’t see his face. She watched Rich grab the gun that was near the body, and then he went through the man’s pockets. He pulled their two phones free and stuffed them into his own pockets. She knew then that the dead man was the man they knew as Mike Spencer.

  Brian prompted her to move towards the shelving racks. “Lead me to the door that you entered through.”

  “Around there,” she said, pointing the way.

  They crept around the corner of the shelves, stepping into a halo of the dim emergency lighting, and Brian pushed her to the floor. “Down!” He aimed his gun at the open area that ran the length of the warehouse between the shelves and the metal wall and sprayed the entire area with bullets.

  And in the split second that Brian stood over her, she watched in horror as his body jerked backwards, once, twice. A splattering of moisture hit her face, and she heard his curse and loud moan. He dropped to his knees beside her, pain carved into his features, but he still aimed his weapon towards the threat in the back corner of the warehouse. He fired off another long burst of gunfire.

  The loud sound of gunfire all around her became distant echoes in her brain as she processed what she saw. The shirt material on Brian’s left side, on his arm and beside his bulletproof vest, was wet. Her eyes went to Danny, who was crouched low and firing his weapon through the racks, also aiming towards the back of the warehouse. How could she get his attention?

  “I’m hit,” Sherman broadcast through his comms. Then his eyes met Brielle’s. He saw blood splattered on her face and his pain no longer mattered. His eyes searched over her. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes,” she said, her mind racing, every sense heightened. Was she okay? Yes, she had to be. She had no pain anywhere.

  She realized that Danny was now huddled with them. She watched him fire his rifle at the two men who were across the room, partially hidden by t
he sturdy shelving racks. They fired back, the shots hitting the concrete floor just in front of them.

  “Handsome, give us some cover!” Mother broadcast. Then he turned his attention to the bullet wound.

  Brielle’s eyes went to Rich, who now stood over Tina and Toby. He fired in the same direction Danny had, into the darkness towards the back of the warehouse.

  “The Birdman has a GSW to the bicep,” Mother broadcast.

  Gunfire came from the other direction, from over by the dock. The sound of bullets hitting the shelving near them exploded in Brielle’s ears. She tried to make herself smaller, hiding behind Brian.

  “We’re pinned down, south-west corner of the warehouse shelves,” Danny said.

  “Converging on your twenty now,” Cooper’s voice came through their comms.

  The men near the dock fired again, moving into the open to advance on their position. The volley of bullets pinged and ricocheted off the shelves and struck the concrete all around them. Moving in behind them, Brielle saw Madison. She fired and hit the two men with multiple rounds. They dropped to the ground. Beside her was Cooper, firing back towards the door they had entered the warehouse through.

  Brielle stared at the men, lying still on the cement. Pools of blood creeped out, inching away from their bodies. She heard more gunfire in the warehouse. It echoed. She couldn’t tell from which direction the sounds came. It sounded like it came from all directions. It seemed to last forever.

  “Press here,” Danny told her, placing her hand over Brian’s upper arm. “Hard.” He paused, listening to the voices in his comms and then said, “roger.” He glanced back at her. “Stay here.”

  She watched him fire more rounds towards the back of the warehouse. She panicked as he ran in that direction, still firing. No, don’t leave us! She heard the sound of running feet and realized that Rich was running along the other side of the shelves, heading to the back corner as well. Only then did she realize that Madison, and Tina cradling Toby were beside her.

  Brielle was in a mental fog when Sloan arrived. Sloan pulled her hand free after telling her twice to let go, which she didn’t.

  “I took one to the vest, too,” Sherman told Sloan.

  Sloan eyed the door. “We’re going through that door,” Sloan said to Madison.

  Brielle didn’t realize they were just ten feet from the outer door. Madison stood and pointed her weapon towards the dock area as Sloan pulled on Sherman’s vest, bringing him to his feet. Sherman emitted a loud, painfilled screech. Not only did his arm hurt like a sonofabitch, his chest was on fire. He probably had cracked a rib or two. He was pretty sure the round hadn’t penetrated the vest. He hoped so, anyway.

  “Move,” Sloan yelled at Sherman, pushing him towards the door. He grabbed Brielle by the forearm and pulled her to her feet as well. “Stay close.” He held onto her and shielded her with his own body.

  Once at the door, Sherman collapsed against the wall, willing himself to remain on his feet as Sloan fired at the lock until it gave way. Sherman fought to catch his breath. The pain in his chest was intense. The continuing sounds of gunfire echoed through the warehouse.

  “Three targets neutralized, south-east corner of the warehouse,” Lambchop’s voice came through their comms.

  “Three more down, north-east corner,” Cooper added.

  Sloan pulled Sherman through the door and pressed him against the metal wall, keeping him on his feet. Once outside, Madison took up position, standing in front of Brielle and Tina, with a still crying Toby, who were crouched down. She broadcast their position to the DEA. The outside of the building was secure, but she stayed on alert.

  Sloan examined the wound to Sherman’s bicep. There was a lot of blood saturating the entire area. He lifted Sherman’s arm up a few inches, to which Sherman cursed out a long string of expletives describing how much that hurt. Sloan found what he was looking for, a secondary source of blood. The fabric of his shirt, just above the vest, in the armpit area had the telltale marking of a bullet hole. “Sonofabitch!” Sherman could have substantial internal injuries.

  He pulled his shears from their location in his medical kit and sliced into Sherman’s shirt, pulling it away from the injured arm and armpit area. He pressed a large gauze patch to the underarm area to absorb some of the blood. He’d need better light. He couldn’t tell the extent of the injury. He handed his flashlight to Brielle. “Shine this under his arm for me.”

  She was horrified by the amount of blood she saw rapidly staining the gauze pad. Her gaze left the wound and went to Gary. “Is he going to be okay?”

  Sloan nodded stiffly. He sure hoped so. There was a lot of blood under Sherman’s arm, and he hadn’t yet determined if it was a graze or a penetration. Of course, he hadn’t yet taken the vest off. He hoped the blood was not coming from beneath it. If a round penetrated his vest, there would be substantial internal injuries.

  When he pulled the gauze pad away, the tissue beneath, for the brief second it was free of blood, showed a jagged, long wound in the meaty flesh. It stretched from the front of his vest to the rear of it, about a half inch above it. Probably just a flesh wound, but they’d know for sure when they got him to a hospital.

  Next, he checked the back of Sherman’s arm. There was an exit wound. Looked like a through and through. This was good news, too.

  “Stay with me, Brielle,” Sherman said, grabbing onto her arm.

  “I’m here, Brian,” she said.

  “No, up north, when this is over. Stay with me and Bobby up in Chicago, Brielle. Promise me you will.”

  “You didn’t have to get shot to get me to stay with you,” she said with tears in her eyes. She watched Gary inject him with a syringe. “What did you give him?”

  “Painkillers.” He locked eyes with Sherman. “It doesn’t look too bad. I’ll get your vest off once we’re on the chopper.”

  He grabbed three packages of Quick Clot. He pressed one to the front of his bicep, a second to the exit wound at the back. Then pressed a fresh gauze pad to the wound under his arm. It was instantly saturated with blood. He pressed the third Quick Clot pack to it, hoping it would help to get the bleeding under control. He let Sherman slide down the wall so that he was seated on the ground. Then Sloan called in the order for the chopper to land at their location. There was just enough clearance on the lawn.

  As the sound of the approaching chopper became louder, men clad in DEA bullet-proof vests swarmed in. “We’ll take over from here,” one of them said. He led Tina and a still screaming Toby away.

  Next thing Brielle knew, Doc appeared. A Coast Guard helicopter landed, and she watched Gary and Doc muscle Brian onto the chopper. Danny helped her to climb inside and she knelt at Brian’s head. She watched them take his bullet-proof vest off. Doc cut his shirt away. He had a nasty dark purple bruise the size of a softball over his ribs. There was no penetration into his skin from the two rounds that struck his vest on his middle left quadrant.

  Sherman was drifting in painful bliss, the painkillers more whacking him out than killing the pain. He was aware he was lifted onto the chopper. He saw Sloan and Doc working on him as he lay gazing at the ceiling. Through his comms he was vaguely aware of the dialog between his team members. He did hear Cooper report that they got them all and that he and Xena were staying onsite to hand off to the DEA. They’d meet them at the hospital.

  “Brielle?” Sherman muttered. Where was Brielle? She had to come with them.

  “I’m right here,” she said, her voice floating into his recognition as her face appeared over his like an angel hovering over him.

  “She stays with us,” Sherman mumbled before losing consciousness.

  “Brian?”

  “He’s sleeping,” Sloan said. “The painkillers.”

  She sat back and stared at him, watching the activity as Gary and Doc checked his blood pressure, palpated his abdomen, and examined the area around the gunshots to be sure the Quick Clot was holding. She felt a hand to her shoulder
. Turning her head, she saw Danny.

  “I can’t believe this happened,” Brielle said. “How could Brian be shot?” Tears streamed down her face.

  “This job we do, it’s dangerous and there is always the chance someone will take a bullet when there are that many flying around,” Mother said, sliding his arm around her. “He’s in the best hands right now, though. He’s going to be fine, Brielle.”

  Sloan glanced up at them. “Yeah, he’s going to be fine. We’ve got the bleeding under control. The bullet went clean through his arm, which means it probably didn’t hit and fuck up any bones. We’ll get him into surgery as soon as we get to the hospital. Ops has already called ahead. They know our ETA.”