“There are men on top of the building and at all three entrances,” reported Wyston through the com center. Each team responded.
“What do you think, Wyston?” asked Lyen.
“I can drop altitude and fly sideways around the building. That will let me target the men on top and the ones at each entryway as I pass. They won’t stay outside long.”
“Light it up,” replied Lyen.
Wyston turned on the drone’s infrared sensors. “When they retreat I’ll use the infrared to track and report their positions. With any luck, they’ll lead us right to Dilinger.”
The drone quietly dropped to attack altitude and Wyston turned the rotors to initiate a sideways movement that let the drone begin a circular path above the building. “Okay, show time,” she said. Immediately the 50-caliber cannon sprayed the top of the building with a twenty-five-round burst, gouging chucks of roofing material and concrete into the air. Without hesitation she brought the cannon down to target the sidewalk in front of the main entrance with another burst.
As the drone moved away from the front door she re-engaged the men on the roof with another full burst and then targeted five single rounds at the metal roof hatch just as the second entrance entered her line of site. Another full burst targeted concrete in front of the second door not ten feet from where four men hunkered down. Wyston redirected the rotors, reversing course toward the front door.
“I don’t want to be predictable,” she whispered to herself. Again, she sprayed the roof top with a twenty-five-round burst that shredded an air-conditioning unit, spraying metal shards for thirty feet.
“That’s them inside,” she said as the men on top of the building bolted for the bullet riddled metal roof hatch and disappeared.
The cannon monitor indicated her bullet count was down to three hundred seventy rounds. Wyston brought the drone out of its sideways flight pattern and flew directly across the building where she turned the drone to face the third entry way. Two men with automatic weapons were standing facing the direction of the second entrance expecting the drone to come from that direction.
“No, no, no, not over there,” she whispered as the cannon sent two bursts of 50 caliber rounds into the concrete and landscaped area in front of the men.
Soil and concrete exploded into the air, forcing them back toward the door as they fired their weapons into the air having no idea where the drone was located. Wyston aimed five single rounds near the men, putting two of the rounds through a metal, five-minute parking sign near the curb. She quickly checked the roof again.
“I’m uploading my infrared film to your monitor,” she said to another detective in in the van, “tell the assault teams where those men are located.”
While Detective Roker contacted the assault teams Wyston turned her attention to the third entry door again. “Those guys are stubborn,” she said out loud and put the drone into a slow sideways flight pattern as she strafed the concrete directly in front of the two men with fifteen single shots followed by a twenty-five-round burst.
One of the men dropped his weapon and fell to the ground. His partner grabbed the gun and helped him to his feet. The injured man limped to the front door with his partner’s help and retreated inside the building.
“Two down,” she said.
The cannon monitor indicated her bullet count was down to two hundred seventy-five rounds. “I’m sending you another infrared film.”
Once again Wyston put the drone into a sideways flight pattern while the infrared camera filmed men inside as they moved to an elevator. The drone drift sideways until the main entry door was visible again. Infrared sensors detected three heat signatures standing against the wall in a shadow left of the door as she brought the drone to a halt.
“Tut tut, looks like rain.”
She lit up the entryway with a twenty-five-round volley followed by eight single shots targeted progressively closer and closer to the hidden men. A ten-round burst targeted just left of the men forced them to the right and into the dim light at the front door. Wyston targeted the cannon, but before she could initiate another ten-round burst the men fled inside the building.
“That’s three down, I’m sending more film.”
While Detective Roker was busy interpreting the heat signature locations and updating the assault teams, Wyston reversed the drone and brought it around the building to the second entry door. Four men were brazenly standing in the light pointing their weapons in the air. She brought the drone directly overhead and pointed the cannon straight down at the men. Then feathering the rotors slightly, she let the drone drift away from the building until the cannon targeted an area fifteen feet in front of the four men.
Twenty-five 50 caliber rounds rained down on the concrete from almost directly overhead. The men retreated slightly, and in that instant Wyston dropped the drone straight down while spraying another 25 rounds. Shielding themselves from a torrent of concrete fragments the men edged toward the entrance while the drone pulled out of its dive to hover five feet off the ground with its cannon pointed directly at the building. Wyston intended to waggle the cannon threateningly at them, but before she could they fled into the building.
“That’s four locations clear,” she said, “call in the ghosts.”
Roker leaned toward his com and told the assault teams to advance. Team one immediately shut down the building’s power, making it eerily dark. Wyston put the drone back into a circling pattern to conduct infrared scans and report heat signature locations.
“There’s a big group on the third floor, east side, interior room, maybe fifteen,” reported Wyston who was now reporting directly to the assault teams.
“Team two, you have a single ahead of you about thirty feet on the left. Team one, there are two signatures near the second-floor southeast stairwell.”
“How many rounds do you have left?” asked Lyen.
“One eighty-two.”
“Can you punch through into that third-floor conference room?”
“Sure, but I thought…”
“Just checking. We may need to send a message,” said Lyen.
“Chief, I’m picking up a single heat signature on the fifth floor.”
“That’ll be Dilinger. Watch that and let me know if he moves from that location.”
The three assault teams had cleared the first and second floors, knocking out emergency lights as they went. Wyston continued to report heat signature locations as the team advanced and deployed tear gas canisters. Team leaders reported eight perps out from gas exposure. When the assault teams reached the third floor Lyen told them to knock out the emergency lights then hold their positions and not engage the men in the conference room.
“Why are they all balled up on the third floor?” asked Wyston.
“Dilinger is up to something. He wants our attention on the third floor. Don’t take your eyes off him. I want to know if he so much as sneezes.”
Lyen stepped out of the van and retrieved a bullhorn from the back. “You men in the conference room on the third floor, this is Chief Lyen Redaux. At this moment my men are standing by with tear gas canisters. I have a 50-caliber cannon pointed at you with enough fire power to obliterate everything on the third floor. You can’t see us, but we can see you. You have two minutes to comply. Place all your weapons on the floor against the front wall and retreat to the back wall with your hands over your head. If you try to leave the room, if you discharge a weapon, if you do anything other than follow the instructions I’ve just given you, the cannon opens fire and we deploy the gas canisters. You have two minutes to comply.”
“Chief, Dilinger hasn’t moved.”
“He’ll wait until something happens to make his move. He knows we can see him; he’s hoping we get distracted.”
“They’re moving. All of them moved to the front wall. They’re complying Chief, I count fifteen heat signatures standing side by side.”
No sooner than Wyston finished her sentence windows on the south si
de of the fourth floor were blown out by an explosion. Then a series of additional explosions continued to rip through the fourth floor.
“Where is Dilinger?” yelled Lyen.
“I can’t see him, the heat from the explosions are masking his signature.”
“Team leaders, secure the men on the third floor. Maither, Pollard, see if you can get to the fifth floor, we can’t see Dilinger.”
Thirty seconds later Pollard responded. “No way Lyen, all the fourth-floor stairwells are blown,” responded Pollard.
“I’ve got him,” yelled Wyston, “he’s on the roof, Dillinger’s on the roof.”
“What is that?” asked Pollard looking at a small bundle Maither had retrieved from his backpack.
“I’ve always wanted to try this,” responded Maither as he unfolded the package to reveal a grapple gun. I need you to hold me steady while I shoot this thing. He clipped a thin cable to his suit and handed the end to Pollard. Then he turned and shot out a window on the third floor.
“What in Jeredesky Poblovitch’s name do you think you’re doing? This is nuts,” yelled Pollard.
“Maybe, but if we don’t get up there Dilinger is going to get away.”
“You think he can fly?” said Pollard sarcastically.
“No, I think he has a helicopter.”
“Go, I’ll hold you steady. If it works, I’ll be up after you.”
Maither climbed out the window and inched his way to the outside. Teetering on the outside edge he leaned out slightly hoping Pollard could keep him from falling three floors to the concrete sidewalk.
“What is that? Who is that on the ledge?” yelled Lyen.
“I don’t know but he’s one of ours,” responded Wyston.
Maither took aim and shot the grappling gun through a blown-out window on the fourth floor. He gave a hard tug to test if the hook had set.
“I fired into the ceiling of the fourth floor; tie off that tether wire in case the grapple hook doesn’t hold. If we can climb in through that window we should be above the fourth-floor stairwell debris. The stairs above that should let us access the fifth floor and then the roof.” Maither leaned close to the building and slipped on climbing gloves. “These will help,” he said handing Pollard a second pair of gloves.
“Have you climbed before?” asked Pollard.
“If I hadn’t I wouldn’t be trying this. You?”
“No. Never.”
Maither grabbed the grapple line and started up the side of the building. Rock climbers learn to use crevices and cracks to help lift themselves up a shear face. Rocks almost always have something to grab onto or wedge into, but not buildings. Buildings have nice smooth surfaces. Maither made slow progress but finally reached the fourth-floor window.
“I don’t recommend you follow Pollard, it’s a tricky climb,” he said as he unclipped the tether wire.
It was then that he heard it; the distinctive sound of a helicopter in the early morning air. Maither disappeared into the building and sprinted up an unobstructed stairwell to the fifth floor then up the stairwell to the roof hatch. He burst onto the roof, much to the surprise of Clephor Dilinger who immediately charged him.
Maither deflected his first punch and countered sending Dilinger sprawling to the floor. As Maither advanced, Dilinger’s hand found a piece of metal that had been part of the roof mounted air conditioner.
“There’s a second signature on the roof,” yelled Wyston.
At that moment Dilinger swung the pipe into the side of Maither’s knee bringing him down hard. Maither swept his leg as he tried to stand, knocking him back to the ground where he tried to wrest control of the metal pipe. At some point in the scuffle Dilinger landed a hard elbow to Maither’s face that broke his nose and dazed him. Dilinger stood up with the pipe in hand intending to bash Maither in the head.
Lyen was standing behind Wyston watching the infrared signatures over her shoulder. “Take the shot,” said Lyen.
Wyston who had been watching the heat signatures fired one round from the cannon just as the man standing on the roof raised his arm to strike. He went down as the escape copter reached the building and landed. The bullet had grazed Dilinger’s leg enough to knock him off his feet. Quickly he began crawling toward the helicopter dragging his numb leg.
“No you don’t,” said Wyston out loud. She put the drone in a steep dive toward the top edge of the building just as Dilinger reached the copter. He slowly climbed in the seat next to the pilot. With a grimace on his face he yelled “I’m Dilinger, let’s get out of here.”
“We’re not going anywhere,” said the pilot as he reached for the ignition, killed the engine, and pointed out the front windshield. Sitting on the roof of the building ten feet away sat the whisper drone with its 50-caliber cannon pointed directed at them.
“Checkmate,” said Wyston who had a satisfied look on her face.
As the engine spun down Pollard came crashing through the roof hatch with his pistol drawn and saw Maither lying on the roof; his face dripping blood. He turned toward the helicopter intending to shoot its pilot if necessary but realized it was spinning down, not up, and the drone was preventing any chance of a departure. He turned back to Maither thinking the worst but as he approached Maither mumbled, “You did it, you climbed up.”
“Yeah, not that you needed my help.”
“You might have what it takes to be a rock climber,” mumbled Maither, not bothering to try to sit up.
“Nope, that’s the scariest thing I’ve ever done and I won’t be doing it again.”
Maither snorted a laugh then groaned from the pain in his broken nose.
About five minutes later a large police helicopter landed on the ground, picked up Lyen and then landed on the building’s roof opposite the drone. Lyen instructed the pilot to take Pollard, Maither and Dilinger to the ground, pick up Wyston and Detective Roker and fly to Implacto Main, the nearest hospital.
“Pollard, you stay with Dilinger and if he gives you any trouble, shoot him. Wyston, you go with Maither and see to it his nose gets fixed.”
Forty-five minutes later Maither sat quietly in the emergency room waiting for the surgeon to return; the X-rays would show how extensive the damage was and whether he needed surgery.
“Coffee, black, just like you ordered,” said Wyston as she entered the room. “You think it’s okay for you to drink this?”
“If it’s not they can pump me,” said Maither who was trying to stop his nose from bleeding by applying pressure to his upper lip with one of the hospital’s white towels. A wide red spot was slowly growing and working its way down the towel. “That was an incredible shoot you made tonight; you targeted low so you wouldn’t kill him didn’t you.”
Wyston nodded but didn’t say anything.
“But how did you know who to shoot? With all the action you couldn’t have kept track of who was who.”
“Our new helmets have an infrared scan sensor. When it detects a scan, it emits a high intensity heat signature that helps the drone pilot distinguish the ghosts from perps,” replied Wyston. “When Dilinger stood up I could distinguish two infrared body heat signatures but the helmet signal was with the one on the ground.”
“Good thing when I doffed the gas mask I didn’t take my helmet completely off,” said Maither.
“Good thing I didn’t miss low,” returned Wyston.
Four weeks later the trial of Independent Malevolia’s members began. Separate statements coupled with voluntary lie detector tests of all twenty-five of Dilinger’s accomplices proved they were unaware that Dilinger planned on packaging the Argurent with heavy explosives; they had been told the explosophore would be used to oxidize chemicals to stimulate the production of thick, black smoke similar to a very large smoke bomb. Only Dilinger’s two closest associates knew otherwise.
Dilinger had convinced his accomplices that black smoke pouring from facilities all over Implacto would indicate how vulnerable it was and would bring the government to th
e bargaining table for Malevolia’s independence. When the proceedings were finished all of them were found guilty of crimes against the citizens of Implacto.
During sentencing proceedings, Dilinger’s twenty-five underlings were given fifteen years with potential for reductions based on good behavior during incarceration. Dilinger and two of his accomplices were additionally found guilty of high crimes against the citizens of Implacto and were given the maximum penalty.
“I’m not afraid of death,” Dilinger told his lawyer after the court proceedings.
“That’s no longer the maximum penalty,” responded his lawyer. “After the bombings The Unified Assembly of Implacto and Malevolia quickly passed a new law that negated death as the maximum penalty.”
“Good for me,” smiled Dilinger, “A nice long prison sentence gives me time to figure out how to escape. I’ve broken out of prison before.”
“They don’t intend for you to have a long prison sentence, Dilinger, they intend to have you disambiguized.”
“What’s that? What’s disambiguized mean?”
“I don’t know, but I doubt it’s going to be better than a long prison sentence,” responded his attorney.
“Find out what it is,” said Dilinger, “maybe we can challenge its use, whatever it is.”
“I can do that, but let me warn you, the country is in no mood to spar over the minutiae of prisoner’s rights or argue over what constitutes inhumane punishment. Society is demanding swift and unequivocal action. Pure justice has become a sidebar.”
Dilinger’s attorney filed all the necessary legal documents to challenge the outcome of the trial. Then, under the freedom of information act, he filed a request for copies of all the government’s files related to the process known as disambiguation. It was no surprise to the attorney that his request for a new trial was summarily denied.
While Dilinger spent his days deep beneath the government’s maximum-security prison in solitary confinement cell with every imaginable monitoring device, his attorney slowly accumulated and reviewed all of the information on disambiguation. The government’s files indicated scientists who worked on the project were given only one specification – devise a process to be used on criminals that will replace the death penalty and its ambiguous nature; one that has a scientifically measurable endpoint.
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