Viper Team Seven (The Viper Team Seven Series Book 1)

by Lewis, Rykar

  “You have any hint as to where they’re going?” Wilbert demanded. “I need a rough guess. Is it going to be an upscale part of the city? A crowded part? North, south, east, west?”

  “It’s too early to tell, Mr. Wilbert. We just don’t know.”

  “I need to know.”

  “What do you want us to do? We’re forced to go at the terrorists’ pace – which is pretty fast actually.”

  The watch officer paused as he debated what to tell this lead agent to do. He knew that the agents could easily capture and question those two terrorists now that they were alone, but how would it affect the rest of the plans if they did?

  “Just keep following and don’t let them know you’re there,” he finally decided.

  “We could capture these guys and question them, Mr. Wilbert. It’d be easy.”

  “Do as I say.”

  “All right, we’ll keep following. I’ll keep you informed.”

  “Yeah,” Wilbert sighed. Then he hung up the phone and dialed the D/CIA.

  * * *

  Parks hadn’t been to Biggs Army Airfield in years, or any part of Texas for that matter. And now, as he felt BIG BIRD begin to descend toward the runway, he wished he could be here for more pleasurable reasons.

  “Buckle up,” Thomas instructed. “We’re landing.”

  Parks strapped himself in and waited for the thud of the wheels hitting the runway.

  After the monster C-17 hit the pavement, it coasted for several thousand feet before finally slowing to almost a stop. It then taxied in front of its assigned hangar.

  Parks unbuckled his seatbelt and walked over to the hatch just as Thomas reached it and opened it. Parks stepped off the plane onto the tarmac, and looked around. He noted that everything was set up just as it had been when he had left a few years ago. Forcing himself to concentrate on the task at hand, he glanced up into the sky. An atypical El Paso thunderstorm was brewing, making the sky black. The thunderheads threatened to burst at any moment. Thankfully, however, the wind had stopped.

  Just then, a blue-black 18-passenger van screeched to a halt. A plain-clothed agent of some sort shut it off, exited the driver’s seat, and walked up to Parks. “Are you Major Parks?” the agent asked.

  “That’s me.”

  “I’m Joint Terrorism Task Force Agent Scott Rice. I was ordered to take you and your team to the El Paso Joint Terrorism Task Force Field Office.”

  “Okay great. Give us a minute, we’ve gotta load the equipment in the van,” Parks ordered.

  “Yes sir.”

  “Let’s pack her up,” Parks yelled back to his team. “We need to get moving.”

  Obediently and quickly, the team began to load everything into the van. Time was very important and Parks didn’t want to waste a second of it.

  When everything was finally ready to go, Thomas walked over to Parks. “We’ll put this bird in the hangar and wait for you to get back. Make it soon if you can, a big storm’s coming, sir. Oh, and good luck.”

  “Roger that, Senior Airman. Thanks,” Parks replied.

  Thomas reentered BIG BIRD and Parks turned towards the van. After he rechecked the equipment, and then checked it a third time, he was certain that they had everything they needed.

  “Don’t worry, KP, everything’s loaded,” Corley spoke from somewhere behind Parks. “We’re ready to go when you are.”

  “Oh now you’re saying KP? Is that like some kind of contagious nickname?” Parks asked in good fun.

  “I just hear Solomon say it, so I figured that’s the thing to call you,” Corley explained innocently. “Is that bad?”

  “KP is fine,” Parks assured, secretly wishing Corley would address him as “sir.”

  “All right then, KP, everything is loaded.”

  Parks cranked down his hat and simultaneously said, “Good, then let’s get out of here. We don’t have much time.”

  Everyone loaded in the van and Parks sat in the front passenger seat as Rice took the wheel.

  “I’ll explain to you guys about where we’re going,” Rice started as he gradually began to pick up speed. “I’m taking you to the El Paso Joint Terrorism Task Force Field Office. The JTTF is an elite counterterrorism group comprised of several different agencies, and led by the Federal Bureau of Investigation and Justice Department. In truth, there are dozens of fulltime agency and department members, such as the FBI, ATF, Secret Service, Marshals Service, Department of State/Diplomatic Security Service, Immigration and Customs, Border Patrol, U.S. Army, U.S.A.F., the Navy, and the CIA, just to name a few. I’m sure you guys have all heard of JTTF, but I’ve been told to explain again just in case.” Rice sped down a side street and continued. “JTTFs are small units of specialized, local investigators, linguists, analysts, and intelligence personnel – again just to name a few things. All the equipment the agencies need is funded by the FBI. Now, we operate in a hundred cities and we are based out of fifty-six FBI Field Offices and ten smaller offices around the Country. Sixty-five of our JTTFs were formed after the terror attacks on 9/11. And our membership has soared to more than four times what it was before those attacks, bringing the number almost to four thousand. That’s pretty good for having the first JTTF created in New York City back in 1980.”

  “JTTFs coordinate operations, and so forth, through the National Joint Terrorism Task Force which works out of the FBI Headquarters at Quantico, Virginia. The NJTTF was created in July 2002 to be a coordinating device with the FBI and its partners. NJTTF manages the large-scale projects that demand several partners to be involved. You could call it the ‘command center’ of the JTTFs.”

  “But all that explanation is nothing. When you get there, then you’ll really see something.”

  * * *

  Siraj was the first one of the group to make it to the sleeper’s house. It had taken him far longer than he had expected. He was weary and his legs threatened to give out at any moment. He slipped his backpack off and unzipped it as he walked to the front door. Inside the pack, he saw his pistol, just where he had placed it. It was out of sight, but nearby just in case something unexpected was on the other side of this door. Cautiously, he knocked.

  Even though it was dark, Siraj didn’t have his goggles on, for fear it would draw too much attention. But now, as he peeked through the glass in the center of the door, and saw a figure approach, he wished that they were on. Since it was so dark, and a street lamp was too far away, he couldn’t tell whether this figure was armed or not. The uncertainty of that matter and also the doubt of who this really was, could prove dangerous.

  The deadbolt unlocked with a click, and Siraj jumped back. Then in a flash, the doorknob turned and the door itself swung open. The little man who had opened it instantly beckoned him inside.

  “Where are the others?” he asked Siraj when they were both inside with the door locked.

  That’s when Siraj whipped out his 10mm and pressed it against the man’s forehead.

  * * *

  “Who are you?” the little man questioned without a trace of fear in his voice.

  “Who are you?” Siraj countered, gripping his pistol tighter. “And you would invite someone into your house without knowing who that person was?”

  “I thought I knew who you are. Maybe I do. What is your name?”

  Siraj was not going to give out his information until he was sure that this man was indeed their sleeper agent. “I’ll talk after you tell me who you are and who you thought I was.”

  “I am Mahmoud Zafir, Mr. Siraj – assuming that’s who you are,” the man said boldly.

  Siraj was not convinced. “What is your line of work, Zafir? Who do you work for? And when I came in, why did you ask, ‘where are the others?’”

  Zafir smiled. “I work for Alka vun Buvka. I am a sleeper agent, and I was told by Mr. vun Buvka to expect ten men on or around this date.”

  “Who are those ten men?”

  “You and your team,” Zafir responded slyly. “Where are they?
”

  Finally satisfied that this really was the sleeper agent vun Buvka had lined up for him and his men, Siraj lowered his gun. “They will be here. We ran into trouble.”

  “What kind?”

  “It’s too long of a story. Do you have what I came for?”

  Zafir nodded. “That and much, much more.”

  “And a vehicle?” Siraj pressed, anxious to get things ready.

  “And a vehicle.”

  “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s get things loaded.”

  The sleeper agent laughed scornfully. “It’s loaded. Has been since yesterday. The vehicle is where it needs to be. It’s ready to go when you are.”

  A knock at the door silenced both men. Turning to it, Zafir boldly opened it without a second thought as to who might be on the other side.

  The man standing outside the door looked wary and unsettled when the sleeper invited him in, but when he saw the familiar face of Siraj, he relaxed.

  Two present, Siraj thought to himself. Six left to go.

  * * *

  Finally, the van arrived at the JTTF Field Office and Rice quickly led the team inside. Parks didn’t even get a chance to glance around before Rice tugged at his arm and told him to follow him to the conference room.

  After the team was ushered inside, Rice exited the room and closed the door.

  “You must be Major Parks,” a large-faced man stated. “I’m Edd Somers, special-agent-in-charge of this whole kit and caboodle. Pleased to meet you.”

  “That’s great, Mr. Somers, but we really haven’t got much time for formalities I’m afraid,” Parks replied as nicely as he could.

  “Oh believe me, Major, I know.” Somers then turned to a man seated at the large, oak conference table. “Gordon, will you set up the image?” he asked.

  In the next few seconds, the Viper Team Seven was seated, and a satellite image was broadcasted on a large screen.

  “Google Earth makes some good images, huh?” Somers threw out. Without waiting for a response he barreled on. “One of the CIA teams tracked one of the terrorists to this house,” he explained.

  Parks saw a red, laser dot – guided by Somers – work its way to a large house in a crowded neighborhood.

  “Zoom in will you, Gordon?” Somers commanded. “We believe this house belongs to the sleeper agent. So naturally that’s where the operation will take place. I think it’s worth noting that it’s a two-story home.”

  “Did the other terrorist the CIA team was following go to the same place?” Solomon wondered aloud.

  “We haven’t received word to that nature yet, but we do know that two of the terrorists are in there – one that the team was following, and another they weren’t.”

  Parks could see the fine details of the house now. It had a small backyard with a low, rock fence, a large driveway, and most importantly, sizeable windows on the west side of the house that would serve as a great way to get the CS gas grenades inside.

  “Here are the directions,” Somers declared as he slid a piece of paper over to Parks. “It’s not too awful far from where we’re at now.”

  “Great,” Parks acknowledged as he grabbed the paper. “Now all we have to do is wait for the other seven.”

  * * *

  Only one man had not been accounted for at the sleeper’s house. Eight of the nine terrorists were present, and the one that was missing was the wounded one. Siraj and his men were ready to go and he was not going to wait for a man that would do him no good and was probably not going to show up at all. Zafir was insisting that someone was coming after them and was all but pushing them out when someone knocked on the door. Zafir answered it and when he came back into the living room, he was helping the wounded terrorist.

  “Give me a hand,” he bellowed to Siraj. “We’ll put him on the table in the dining room. Get me some hot water, someone.”

  Every command was obeyed and Zafir turned on the overhead light and looked over the bloodstained leg.

  “It is bad,” Siraj confirmed. “He’s of no use to us. You keep him.”

  Zafir spun around and glared at the terrorist leader.

  “And no one will be suspicious while I am housing this Arabic man with a shot leg? What’s wrong with you, Ghazi? Have you lost your mind? My safety is very important to myself and to vun Buvka. If it wasn’t for me you wouldn’t be here. This cripple is yours and you’ll take responsibility for him.”

  Siraj flipped out his pistol that was pushed in his belt and held it close to Zafir’s face. He really had no intention of shooting the sleeper agent but he had a false hope that maybe the action would intimidate the sleeper enough to keep the wounded man.

  “Your usefulness for me has expired,” Siraj spat back. “As for vun Buvka, my usefulness to him will be expired as well, in only a few hours. But, I will be remembered. You will not if you make me kill you here.”

  “I do not understand. I am just an underling for vun Buvka. I don’t even pretend to have the prestigious position that you do. No matter what happens, I will never be remembered as you will be. And you really expect me to believe your vain threats about killing me? I am not a child.”

  Siraj took his eyes off the man’s face and looked at the terrorist on the table who was staring off into space and not saying a word. “You’ll keep him,” he decided, as anger began to rise in him.

  That’s when his anger, frustration, and fear overcame him, driving him to gun-whip the sleeper agent over the head.

  35

  Thursday, March 20th – 1800 hours

  JTTF Field Office, El Paso, Texas

  “Mr. Somers,” someone said, peeking his head in through the conference room doorway, “you need to see this.”

  The person was ordered into the room and a small yellow paper was handed to Somers. As soon as the man had entered the room, he left, and the agent-in-charge began to look over the message.

  “Hmmm. The nine terrorists have nested,” he whispered just loud enough so all of the room’s occupants could hear. “Everyone’s joined the party,” he then told Parks in a normal tone of voice. “We don’t know how long they’ll be there so you’d better get moving.”

  “We will sir.”

  “Oh, and remember, you radio in and report to us about your success.”

  Parks promised he would and then he waved a finger as a goodbye and headed with his team out for the van.

  We’re goin’ in, he thought to himself as the unusually-chilling evening air hit his face. Finally, we’re goin’ in.

  After rechecking the equipment a final time, Parks was certain that they had everything they needed. He swung into the driver’s seat and started the van.

  “You know how to get to the house, right?” Solomon checked as he slammed the passenger’s side door.

  “Yeah. I’ve been through that neighborhood once or twice I think. I lived here for two years, you know.” Then Parks added, “I don’t remember that exact house though.”

  Solomon didn’t say anything more. He looked at the fogged over window – thanks to the untypically cold day – and began to draw a smiley face with his finger. And he didn’t just draw one; he drew five or six before he smiled to himself with contentment.

  “What are you doing?” Parks questioned his deputy as he looked at the drawings.

  “Nothin’,” Solomon assured. “Nothin’ at all.”

  Parks shook his head and looked for the turnoff. When he found it, he turned onto it and began to increase speed.

  “Greg,” Parks started, “I’m going to need you to find any and all escape routes that the terrorists could use. Our teams will be in position, waiting while you’re doing that. We won’t move in until you come and report to me. Got it?”

  “Yeah, I do,” Norse replied.

  “Everyone remember what has to be done?” Parks asked his team. “If anyone has any questions, now is the time to ask.”

  Every man seemed to understand his task so Parks kept quiet and concentrated on drivi
ng. He knew the neighborhood was approaching fast, and he needed to park a safe distance away. He decided he’d drive by the house once so he could get a final lay of the land before they stormed it.

  * * *

  Parks tossed Solomon an M4 and then grabbed one for himself. The team was a block away from the sleeper’s house and Parks was distributing all of the equipment before they broke off into the two teams.

  “Everyone got enough bullets?” he questioned as he took in a long breath. “Better too many than too few.”

  “I’ve got enough to choke a horse,” Solomon declared, readjusting the carbine slung on his shoulder. “I think we all do.”

  “All right then,” Parks approved, “Solomon, sneak your team up to the front door. Duck down behind that hedge, and wait to move until I give the radio signal. When I do, bust open the door and by then my team will join up with yours. If for some reason we don’t make it in time, go ahead with the plans anyway. Got it?”

  “I got it. Let’s do it.”

  Solomon gave Parks’ shoulder a hard slap and then ordered his team – which consisted of Marler, Corley, and Lee – to follow him.

  Parks sent Norse out to check on the escape routes and then he and Samuels took the long roundabout way to the house. The route allowed them to skirt around and end up on the west side of the house where all the windows faced. The blinds were all pulled down so he couldn’t see into the house. He could see the light that penetrated through them though. A red Suburban was parked in the driveway and Parks hoped that meant the terrorists and the sleeper agent were still there.

  Several minutes later, Norse came running up and skidded on the grass next to Parks.

  “Find anything?” Parks demanded.

  “No,” Norse responded, out of breath. “There ain’t nothing. No sewers, tunnels, nothing. I knew there wouldn’t be.”