by Warren Ray
DARK TOLL
The Shadow Patriots Book Four
Warren Ray
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.
Copyright 2016 by Warren Ray
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.
Chapter 1
Jackson Michigan
Winters pulled into the hospital parking lot and turned the engine off. He stared across the lot and watched his men hustle the wounded into the emergency room entrance. Nate put his arm over Elliott’s shoulder and struggled to get inside. Corporal Bassett carried the twice-wounded Reese in his arms with Amber by her side. Meeks stayed close behind, limping from the wound he’d gotten in the car bomb.
Winters took in a couple of deep breaths and then exited the pickup. As he approached the entrance, he looked in the back of one of the pickups and saw some of the dead. His pulse quickened at the sight of the bloodied bodies and he needed to turn away to regain his composure. He wanted time to deal with this but knew there was little to spare. He thought about what Nordell had told him; that losses are part of the job. The retired Marine was right, of course, but it still didn’t keep him from grieving the loss of fifteen men. Having such a small force, you naturally got to know all the men, so every loss was personal.
The emergency room ran in organized chaos as the small medical staff shuffled the most serious cases right into operating rooms. Winters scanned the room and figured twenty of his guys were wounded. Some lay on stretchers hooked up to IV’s. Others, with minor wounds, patiently waited their turn.
Winters took another deep breath and decided to visit with them to give each a word of encouragement. Some nodded their heads, others shook his hand, while some spoke of their resolve to get well and get back into the fight.
He visited with Nate and got an earful as to what he wanted to do with the remaining Jijis. The wound seemed to reenergize an already energetic man, vowing fervently to skin them all alive. Next, Winters found Reese lying down with an IV in her arm. Amber stood by her as they waited for the doctor.
“Hey guys,” said Winters.
Amber looked up and then held out her arms and gave him a long hug.
Winters pulled away and then turned to Reese who gave him a slight smile. He bent down and kissed her forehead.
“You holding up okay?” asked Winters as he took her hand.
“I’m good. A little loopy with the drugs they’ve got me on.”
“Well, lucky you.”
A tear fell down her cheek. “I’m really sorry.”
“Sorry? Sorry for what?”
“For getting shot up and being in the way.”
Winters tightened his grip on her hand. “Oh Reese, don’t even think that. You’ve been a great asset.” He turned to Amber. “Both of you guys have been nothing but amazing.”
Amber nodded and gestured to Reese.
Winters sensed Amber had been dealing with Reese’s misguided emotions and figured the drugs were influencing her.
Winters stroked Reese’s hair. “You’re more of a badass than most anyone here.”
“Really?”
Winters broke out in a smile. “Oh, hell yes. As a matter of fact, you need to get yourself stitched up and back out there, cause I’m gonna need ya.”
She lifted her good arm up and Winters leaned in for a hug. “I love you, Cole.”
Winters laughed to himself and was more convinced than ever it was the drugs. “I love you, too, Reese.” He pulled away. “And on that note, I need to leave you two. I’ll come back later today, okay?”
Amber reached out for another hug. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I’ve been trying to tell her.”
Winters scooted out into the hall and couldn’t help but break out into a laugh, which immediately put him in a much better mood. Interesting what a little entertaining moment can do for the soul. It was just what he needed.
Chapter 2
The sun was starting to rise as Winters gathered Scar, Bassett, and Burns outside the hospital for a meeting. For the past couple of hours, they had led squads chasing the rest of the Jijis out of Jackson. They only had a couple of small encounters with the enemy and they felt all the Jijis were gone.
“How many do you think we killed?” asked Winters.
Scar turned to Bassett. “We’ve been trying to come up with a number. We think between yesterday, and today it’s got to be close to a thousand.”
Winters tilted his head back. “Whoa, that many?”
“Maybe even more,” said Bassett. “Who knows how many of their wounded will die.”
“Yeah, we’ve no idea what kind of medical treatment is available for them,” said Scar.
“So, with wounded, we’re probably talking half of their three thousand force is out of commission,” said Bassett.
“Not a bad night after all,” said Winters.
“But, when you include the cops, we’re still looking at a force of around two thousand,” said Scar.
Winters gave him a firm nod.
“Many of them will be disheartened though,” said Bassett.
“I’ve no doubt about that,” said Winters. “My other concern is the spy I think we have here. It was too convenient they targeted the area I was at, plus the ambush yesterday.”
“Nate did say the cop he killed said they knew we were coming,” said Bassett.
“If we can’t find this guy, it’s gonna be pretty hard to move around or even make plans without the Jijis knowing,” said Scar.
“It’s bad enough they know how small our force is,” said Bassett.
Burns, who had been content to listen to the others, offered up a suggestion. “If we can’t find this guy, we can certainly use him to our advantage by putting out some false information.”
Winters turned to Burns. “More Sun Tzu?”
“The guy was good.”
Winters liked what he heard. They didn’t have a whole lot of time to find a spy among all the people still in Jackson. It was the proverbial needle in the haystack, but the Jijis confidence in their spy could be their Achilles’ heel.
“Still, we’ll have to be careful who we talk to,” said Winters. “We’ll need to queue in the mayor on this. Nordell already figures it too, so he’ll have to decide who to include, but even so, I don’t want him to know everything.”
They all nodded.
“What about their wounded?” asked Winters.
Burns looked at Scar. “What about them?”
“Shouldn’t we go help them?”
“They’re not our problem,” said Scar.
Their cavalier attitude took Winters by surprise. His mind started racing around on how to respond. On one hand, he didn’t want any strife between them, but on the other, he didn’t think it was right to leave wounded men on the battlefield. He looked at each of them and noticed it didn’t bother them. Each one of them had military experience, so he was confused as to how to respond.
Bassett broke the ice. “Captain, there is no sense taking any chances. We don’t know if there are any snipers waiting around or if anyone is playing dead, or maybe they booby-trapped some of the bodies. Anything could happen. Believe me, I’ve seen it before.”
Winters gave it a quick thought, and although it sounded harsh, he was satisfied and moved to the next subject. “Did we take any prisoners?” asked Winters.
“Oh yes, we’ve got ourselves a few,” said Scar.
“How many?”
Scar looked at Burns. “Like seven or eight, I think.”
“It’s eight,” said Burn
s.
“Where are they?”
“Taylor’s holding them at an abandoned building down on Brooklyn Road,” said Burns.
“How far?” asked Winters
“It’s not too far.”
“Besides our men, does anyone know we have them?”
They all looked at each other and shook their heads.
Winters gave this some thought wondering what kind of useful intel these prisoners might possess.
Chapter 3
Detroit Michigan
Captain Vatter, the thirty-year-old Detroit station commander, leaned back in his office chair and ran his hand through his head of thick black hair. His eyes were bloodshot from a lack of sleep. He just received word that Mordulfah wanted to see him. A chill ran down his spine wondering if he was about to lose his life because of last night’s debacle. Even though it wasn’t his fault, Mordulfah might want to take it out on him. His only job was to lock down the south end of town with his men. It was Mordulfah’s men, the M and M’s, who got carried away. They’re the ones who screwed it up by focusing on taking out Winters. Still, it was his info that got them all fired up figuring a bonus was in his future if they could get Winters’ head on a platter. Instead, he now feared for his life and thought about getting in his car to drive off. After a few moments of thought, he decided, he couldn’t leave without endangering his family who still lived in Detroit.
He got up and walked out of his office bumping into Tannenbaum, a twenty-five-year-old cop who sported a splotchy beard on his baby face, which looked odd with his crew cut.
“You going home?” asked Tannenbaum.
“I wish. No, I’ve got to go Grosse Pointe.”
Tannenbaum jerked his head back. “Whoa! Hey man, that’s, ah, not a good idea.”
“Yeah. No kidding.”
“You sure you want to go out there?”
“I don’t have a choice.”
“Yeah, you do. Just don’t go.”
“Then what? He sends someone to pick me up or someone in my family, like my mother?”
Tannenbaum shrugs his shoulders. “I guess. Maybe it’s nothing, you know, I mean, it ain’t like we were anywhere near that disaster.”
“Yeah, well, I know that and you know that, but does he care about it?”
“I’ll tell ya what, I wouldn’t go out there without some kind of gift or something.”
Vatter rolled his eyes. “A gift? Like flowers or candy?”
“I don’t know, something man, anything to smooth things over.”
“You’re an idiot.”
“Hey, just trying to help you out, man,” said Tannenbaum in a raised voice. “It’s your hide, not mine.”
Vatter didn’t respond.
“Whatever,” said Tannenbaum, as he turned and walked down the hallway.
Vatter walked outside, not feeling any better after chatting with Tannenbaum. In fact, he was feeling worse than before. He got in his squad car and sat there for a couple of minutes thinking about what might happen and what his options were. Mordulfah would surely punish those responsible for last night’s failure by taking their heads. It was the one way he could show strength while putting fear into the ranks.
Vatter had seen the videos coming out of the Middle East showing the beheadings of Christians and how horrific it was. It was never one clean sweep of a sword. No, it was more like sawing the head off, which was a much more painful process. The thought made him shudder with the chills. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead and started to run down his cheeks. His breathing quickened and he needed air. He started the car and pushed the windows down. The fresh air helped calm him, but then he realized he had just over an hour before he needed to be in Grosse Pointe. He tapped on the steering wheel, thinking about his conversation with Tannenbaum and then an idea hit him. A slight smile formed on his face the more he thought about it. It was perfect. He threw the car in drive and tore out of the parking lot hoping his cousin would be home.
Chapter 4
Jackson Michigan
It was a short trip from the hospital to the abandoned building down on Brooklyn Road. The brick building looked like it used to be a small manufacturing plant and had a back parking lot with a loading dock. Bassett was the first to jump up on the dock, followed by Winters, Scar, and Burns, albeit a bit slower than the spry Corporal had been.
The back door opened and Taylor walked out in a foul mood.
“These little sons of bitches think I’m their man servant. They want food and sodas. They even asked for a lawyer. Can you believe it? A friggin lawyer in the middle of a war!”
“Just what we need here, lawyers,” laughed Scar.
“I had to gag them just to shut them up.”
Taylor showed his companions where he was holding the prisoners. Winters looked through the window and observed eight Jijis sitting on folding chairs. They were all bound, gagged, and blindfolded. Winters thought about what to do with them. He knew they needed to interrogate them for any intel they could provide.
“Can we get them in separate rooms?” asked Winters.
“Don’t see why not,” said Taylor.
Winters turned to Bassett. “So, how should we go about this?”
Bassett looked at Scar and then back to Winters. “That all depends on how far you want to go and how much you think they might know.”
Winters knew what Bassett was implying and wasn’t sure about it.
Scar saw the look on Winters’ face. “Captain, why don’t we get a feel for it and see where it goes?”
“Fair enough.”
Scraping sounds echoed through the room as they pulled the tilted folding chairs backward and dragged the men into separate rooms. One tried to wiggle his way out of the chair. Taylor cuffed him upside the head and yelled at him. Another sobbed as they dragged him out of the room and down the hallway.
Winters looked at Scar as the sobbing man passed by them.
Scar shrugged his shoulders. “He should have thought about this before joining.”
Winters turned to Bassett. “You have experience in this?”
“Not directly, but I’m aware of the techniques.”
“I’ll leave you in charge of this then.”
“Anything, in particular, you want to find out?”
Winters took a moment to think about the question. These were his first prisoners and he wasn’t quite sure what he wanted to know besides the obvious, troop strength and Mordulfah’s plans.
“Just the usual stuff,” said Winters hoping he didn’t sound stupid.
They entered the first room and Bassett ripped the blindfold off the Jiji. The man was an American, but his immediate praise of Allah identified him to be a true believer.
Muslims had been coming to Michigan for a number of years, most settling in Dearborn, Michigan. Little by little, the Muslim population grew so big that the town essentially cut themselves off from the rest of the state. It was a well-known secret they practiced Sharia law and the state of Michigan ignored it for fear of being labeled racist or Islamophobe.
Bassett started the questions.
“My name is Mohammed and that is all you’re going to get from me. I’m an American and I know my rights.”
Taylor chimed in. “Sonny, you may be an American and you may think you know your rights, but you gave up that privilege when you attacked us last night.”
Mohammed spat in Taylor’s face and cursed him in Arabic.
“Oh, screw this!” Taylor responded by smacking him across the face with a closed fist. “You’ve mistaken me for someone who gives a crap about you and your phantom rights.”
Bassett let out a small chuckle at Taylor. He was more convinced that nicknaming him “Honey Badger” was by far his most accurate name and started wondering if perhaps he shouldn’t let him have his way with these guys. He seemed to be up for the job and was without a doubt, full of piss and vinegar this morning; then again, he was always like that.
“Now, sonny, you
can answer our questions and be treated fairly or your stay here will be full of misery. Starting with you being part of my morning workout program. You see, I’ve been looking for a new punching bag to work out my aggression and you look like a good fit.”
Mohammed’s face turned sour with the realization that this old man meant every word. “I don’t know anything of value.”
“Sure you do, Sonny, everybody knows something. You shouldn’t think so little of yourself.”
Bassett turned to Winters who was standing off to the side. He gave him a slight grin and decided Badger was going to handle all the interrogations. He certainly had a way with words.
Taylor continued.
“Why don’t you start with who you’re working for,” asked Taylor already knowing the answer.
Mohammed took a moment before answering. “Prince Mordulfah is our great leader.”
“And how many men does this Mordulfah have?”
“I’m not sure.”
Taylor moved in and wound up for another whack across the face.
Mohammed screamed out. “I swear I don’t know! I’m not with the main force! Me and the others were never in Grosse Pointe.”
Winters raised his head in interest.
Taylor saw him and then returned his attention to Mohammed.
“Where were you?”
“In Parma. It’s just west of here.”
“How many are there?”
“We have like three hundred.”
This was news to Winters. He wondered if this three hundred was in addition to the three thousand he thought Mordulfah controlled.
“How come you were never in Grosse Pointe with the others?” asked Taylor.
“We were kept out of sight as a reserve unit.”
“Are these experienced men?”
“Experienced how?”
“Military experience you dumb-ass.”
“I’m sorry, I’m nervous. No, none of us has any military experience. I’m a college grad, as are most of us.”
Taylor shook his head in disbelief. “What? The American dream too much for you to handle?”
“But you are infidels and I’m required to kill you.”