Ogrodnik Interior 2.0c

by Gary

  Rayce looked at Elliot to make sure he understood.

  “Agreed.”

  “Good, my plan is that we parachute onto the roof, take out the rooftop snipers, get into the second-floor wiring closet and install Evan’s device, if there are any mercs waiting in the basement or the second-floor hallway, we’ll take care of them and then hit the NOC. We’ll leave one merc alive for questioning,” said Rayce without offering any clarification on the oversimplified plan.

  “I have questions. First of all, how do you know where the mercs will be deployed?” asked Elliot.

  “I don’t, but their options are limited, and Yilmaz is a product of the military. If you want to know what we’ll do if they aren’t deployed the way I anticipate, then my answer to you is simple—we improvise.”

  Elliot was about to interject with more questions, but Rayce stopped him before he got started.

  “Enough questions. We need to get ready. I have most of the equipment, but we will need a couple of things. Can you get hold of an airplane?”

  “An airplane, are you kidding me? What do we need an airplane for?

  “How else do we parachute in?”

  Elliot looked at Rayce with a face that said, “Really?”

  “Well, can you get one?”

  He thought for a moment. “How about a copter? I know a guy who runs a heli tour around the island.”

  “Will he fly without an approved flight plan?”

  “A copter doesn’t need a flight plan in most areas and I know he’s flown on demand in the past. I also know that every man has his price.”

  “We’ll need some help as well. We need someone to create a distraction while we’re gliding in.”

  Elliot was past the point of being skeptical. “I know someone who has an axe to grind with Eastern.”

  Rayce clued in immediately. “Sammy? Yes, he’d be perfect. Here’s what we need him to do,” and Rayce explained the diversion strategy.

  ********************************************

  “Hello, Sammy. Elliot here.”

  “Elliot, what’s up my friend?”

  “How’s the thumb? “

  “It’s as sore as a hemorrhoid in a sandstorm.”

  Elliot didn’t have time to beat around the bush with small talk. “Sammy, they kidnapped Rivka. I’m going after them, and I need some help. Interested?”

  “Those fuckers. You’re damn right I want in.“

  “Good. Here’s what I need you to do,” and Elliot explained the plan to Sammy.

  ************************************

  “Elliot, please.”

  “Jen?”

  “Yes, it’s me.”

  “Did you find out anything about the follow-up request?”

  “I did. Do you have a few minutes?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Okay. The report indicates that some mice were failing the learning and memory tests. That in itself doesn’t tell us much. We need to know under what circumstances these mice were failing and from which colonies they belonged. As I mentioned this morning, it wouldn’t do any good to bury a failed test report. The tests still need to be executed correctly, and we already know that test results cannot be fudged.”

  “Go on.”

  “I cross-referenced all of the mice identified in the report and discovered that all were from one of the free colonies. Digging a bit more, I found that they were first generation offspring of treatment recipients.”

  “What does that mean to you?”

  “Wait. There’s more. I decided to look for the actual test results, and I found the results linked to the failed test report, but I couldn’t find results from any other free colony.”

  “Okay. So what was different with the mice in the free colony in question?”

  “Hang on. Out of frustration, I started looking at Sarah’s other scanned documents, and I came across the test matrix for Isotin. It’s a checklist of all the in-vivo tests, how often they should be executed and which colonies they should be run against. The test grid tells me that memory tests are executed on most colonies throughout the life of the test period, but they are executed on free colony members in only one cycle, shortly after they are born.”

  “Why is that?”

  “It’s a time and resource issue. Remember, the focus for these tests is on treatment recipient mice and not necessarily on the offspring. We can’t possibly run every test on every mouse in every colony, so choices have to be made. This is standard practice for all in-vivo testing.”

  “What am I missing, Jen?”

  “Here’s my theory. Carrie Leblanc executed the memory tests against a free colony accidentally. She didn’t realize that free colony members weren’t part of the ongoing memory test plan.”

  Elliot took a moment to digest the new information.

  “Events are starting to align, Jen. There are a couple of gaps we need to fill in. Is it possible to determine the ages of the mice offspring in that colony that failed the test and the ages of offspring in that colony that passed the tests?”

  “Yes, it’ll take some time, but I have the data. I can probably have it in a few hours.”

  “Good. I may not be reachable by phone, so can you email me that info when you get it?”

  “Will do.”

  CHAPTER 83

  Rayce led Elliot downstairs into the old stone-walled basement. At the far end of the basement was a massive, black metal door with a dial and handle in the center.

  “You have a vault in your basement?” Elliot asked.

  “This house was built as a notary business back in the mid-1800s, and it came with a vault.”

  Rayce spun the dial a few times and pulled on the handle. The massive steel door swung open smoothly. They stepped in, and Elliot saw shelving on three walls that were sparsely populated with an assortment of paper and boxes.

  I thought we’d be walking into a weapons' locker, thought Elliot.

  Rayce closed the vault door tight behind them, and Elliot raised his eyebrows. Rayce moved to the back of the vault and pushed hard on the far wall. A sizable portion of the wall swung open slowly, much as the vault door had.

  “The locking mechanism on the back entrance is activated when the main vault door is opened. The only way to open the hidden back entrance is to close the main vault door tight.”

  Rayce stepped over the foot high threshold into the hidden room and flicked on the light. The room was lined with shelving full of military paraphernalia of all types. There were dozens of handguns, knives, rifles of every size and shape and stacks of ammunition.

  “Whoa. You built a secret room just for your weapons?”

  “It was here already. This room was built when the vault was installed over 150 years ago. It was used as part of the underground railway to sneak black slaves out of the U.S. Once upon a time, there was an underground tunnel that led down to the river, but the tunnel and its exit point were filled in years ago.”

  “Where’d you get all the weapons?”

  “Let’s just say I collect weapons and military gear, and people who know me know that I collect. Over the years, I’ve managed to stockpile quite a bit.”

  Rayce threw a black, folded stack of clothing at him. “Put these on. What do you prefer for a weapon?”

  “I’ve got my Glock.”

  “Leave it in the truck. Anything that we use we’ll wipe down and leave on site. All these weapons are unregistered and cannot be traced. It’s safer that way.”

  “If you have another Glock, I’ll take it.”

  “Right there,” Rayce said pointing to a shelf of handguns as he started putting on his overalls.

  Now finished dressing, Rayce handed Elliot two bundles of hefty eye sets, night vision goggles. He was now in front of the weapons shelves inspecting items like your great aunt might inspect fruit at the local market. He picked up a short, mean looking rifle with a thick, short barrel that had seen its share of use based on the scratches and wear on its s
tock. He tested the action and looped it around his shoulder. He picked up a pistol that looked similar to Elliot’s Glock, but longer in the barrel, and tucked it into his waistband. Elliot watched as he moved beyond the shelving units to the wall that hung dozens of knives. Rayce reached up and chose a knife with a short, stubby blade and a T-handle. Elliot had seen these knives at the dojo; they called them push knives. Rayce held the T-handle of the knife in his fist with the blade protruding between the ring and middle fingers. It was a double-sided blade that came to a sharp point, like a short triangle on a handle. Rayce held the dagger in his fist, staring at it while he twisted it slowly in front of his face. Elliot wondered what was going through his mind.

  Rayce looked at the blade and was immediately flooded with memories of his service in Iraq. He thought about his crew, Cropper, Dan-o, and Rainman and wondered where they were now. It’d been more than twenty years since he last saw them. He fought the impulse to dredge up the memories of his last days in service but lost. He remembered climbing up out of the coolness of the cave, the hot sirocco night wind coming up off the desert floor below, blasting sand grains against his face like a thousand bee stings.

  Through his squint, he made out the two team members who were left outside to stand guard along with the unmoving form of the young boy he had left with them. The Iraqi boy, no more than thirteen years old, had his arms tied down and chest flayed open like a cadaver on a morgue table, a bloody Keffiyeh still clutched in his hand. Standing over the body were the drug-fuelled grins of Cropper and Dan-o, Cropper holding a bloodied dagger by his side, a dagger much like the one Rayce now had in his hands. Dan-o looking on with a hand resting on the butt of his gun, hoping Rayce would escalate the situation and ready for it if he did.

  The events of that day changed Rayce’s future. He used to wonder how his life would be different if that day had never happened. He was past that now. What happened, happened, and now he lived with it.

  A noise brought Rayce back to the present, and he realized that he’d zoned out and that Elliot was standing beside him watching in silence. He slid the dagger into a leg sheath and started on his way out of the secret room and back into the vault. On his way to the door he stopped, picked up an empty backpack and tossed in a handgun and two extra clips. As an afterthought, he reached to the back of the shelf and chose a small leather bundle. He caught Elliot looking at him, and he replied, “Beretta and an ankle holster.”

  “Isn’t that a bit feminine for you?” Elliot asked as they made their way into the vault.

  “The bag’s not for me. It’s for your partner.”

  “I like your optimism.”

  CHAPTER 84

  “We’re set. You drive, I’ll explain,” said Rayce.

  “No problem,” said Elliot climbing into the truck. “The pilot will be ready when we get to the helipad. He doesn’t know anything except that we’re going to jump out over the West Island. That’s all he needs to know.”

  “Good. Have you ever jumped?” asked Rayce.

  “Many times. I was Flight Sergeant in the Air Cadets.”

  “Good. We’ll be jumping tandem on a parafoil, me in front.”

  “Okay, what’s the plan?”

  “We know the mercs are sitting in that building waiting for us. The entire building is glass, so there’s no way we can get in short of using a bazooka or a tank, nor is there any way for them to target anyone approaching the building, so their only play is to have shooters up on the roof. Having shooters there effectively makes the cleared area surrounding the building a kill zone. Nothing can approach the building without being seen and shot at. The shooters would be in direct contact with a team that sits in the NOC monitoring the cameras and the motion sensors in the woods. There’s no way we could get anywhere near the bunker without them knowing about it, IF,” he emphasized, “if we come by ground.”

  “We jump out of the chopper using night silk and NVGs.” Rayce read the lack of understanding on Elliot’s face and clarified, “night silk. Nylon parafoil dyed black used for parachuting at night when stealth is needed.”

  “Go on. I get it.”

  “On the way down, we take out the guys on the rooftop. I’ll have a silenced assault rifle with me, and as we glide in toward the roof, I’ll silence them.”

  “I’ll need both hands to shoot, so you’ll have to take us in. Can you do it?”

  “I jumped every week for two years. I can do it.”

  “This’ll be a bit more involved than jumping into an open field. It’s…”

  Elliot held up his hand and interrupted. “Rayce, I got it. Move on.”

  Rayce looked at him for a moment before replying as if seeing a side of Elliot that he hadn’t seen before. “Good.”

  “What happens if they see us on the way down?”

  “That’s where Sammy’s distraction comes in. He’ll be moving about in the woods on the southwest side but out of camera view. He’ll tie his beach balls to some trees so that every time there’s a gust of wind; the beach balls will set off the motion detectors. All of their attention will be on Sammy and the southwest woods."

  “The bunker is not far from a residential area. Won’t the cops be deployed at the first sounds of gun play?”

  “I don’t think so. Did I mention that my rifle is a Russian AS Val? It’s a silenced sniper rifle, as quiet as a sleeping snake. In any event, the last thing Biovonix wants is police involvement. My guess is that Biovonix has already sent a communiqué to the locals to say that they’ll be doing some emergency construction and to pay no attention to any loud noises. Having police in their pocket makes it even easier for them.”

  As they neared their destination, Elliot phoned Sammy.

  “Sammy, you ready?”

  “Ready as the camp whore on payday.”

  “We’re about to go up now. We’ll be jumping in ten minutes, so you can start deploying now.”

  “Aye aye, Captain.”

  Rayce parked his truck in the heliport lot, and they grabbed their gear from the truck bed and headed over to the helipad where the chopper was already warming up. Just like in the movies, Elliot and Rayce ducked their heads as they approached the open door of the Bell 407 chopper.

  The pilot sat alone up front as Rayce and Elliot readied their paraphernalia.

  Elliot handed the pilot a thick envelope as he gave instructions. “Fly over the West Island just north of Highway 40. We’ll give you a signal when we’re about to jump,” Rayce yelled at the copter pilot over the whine of the revving motor.

  The pilot replied with a thumb up as he prepared to lift off.

  On the ten minute flight over to the Biovonix location, Rayce helped Elliot into the parafoil apparatus and then had him test the NVGs. Elliot turned them on and saw the world in a pale green light that reminded him of the movie The Matrix.

  Rayce was watching closely out the window, and when they were nearing Biovonix, he opened the side door. The last preparation was for Elliot to hook their harnesses together, Rayce in front.

  The squared clearing of the Biovonix bunker came into view 2000 feet below them, and Rayce yelled at the pilot to tell him they were jumping.

  The pilot responded once more by giving the thumbs up.

  Rayce’s harness pulled Elliot out of the chopper with him as he jumped into a short stretch of free fall before deploying the parafoil. The harness snapped tight and groaned under the initial 3 g load but held fast, and in seconds, they were in a wide spiral descending toward the Biovonix building.

  Rayce turned on his NVGs and signaled Elliot to do the same. The dark of night turned pale green in Elliot’s viewer, brighter in areas of light and pale green where there was no light before.

  Elliot estimated they were at about 400 feet when Rayce pointed to the bunker roof. He saw only pale green at first, but as they neared the rooftop, he was able to identify four prone shapes on the roof. Three were on the west side of the building near the roof edge, and the other was on the adj
acent south edge. He took the chute out on a wide circle to the northeast side of the bunker and aligned the chute to start the glide in at about 200 feet overhead of the west facing mercenaries. It was a one shot deal. If Rayce didn’t take out all four in the first pass, they would glide past the building and be sitting ducks for whoever was still left on the roof.

  Rayce removed his NVGs, unsnapped his rifle, took the safety off and ensured the rifle was in semi auto mode. The AS Val was a marvel of understated elegance in an assault rifle. Light and sturdy, it was designed to be stripped down to the bare essentials to conserve weight. Rayce’s model sported a 20 round magazine underneath and a short, thick barrel that employed built-in sound suppression. This particular model was specifically configured for snipers.

  Based on the rooftop deployment of the men he had just observed, Rayce intuitively understood the optimum sequence to take out the targets. Sammy’s distraction would focus the rooftop soldiers on the wooded area nearest the building’s southwest corner. He’d take out the targets starting with the man farthest from the corner on the west side. Since all eyes would be focused on the southwest wooded area, there was no reason any of the other soldiers would be looking back behind them. He would progress through them always taking the one farthest from the southwest corner until they were all dispatched.

  Rayce waited for the slight wobble in their flight path to settle and aligned the crosshairs on the head of the third target along the west wall. He had mentally rehearsed the strategy and estimated that after the first shot, it would take him two seconds to target each subsequent soldier. It was the fourth figure that would represent the most challenge. The fourth soldier would have six seconds to realize what was happening and to do something about it. Rayce didn’t think that the fourth man would realize the first two had been taken, but it was almost a certainty that the lone shooter along the south wall would see the soldier closest to him on the west wall go down. Rayce’s strategy was predicated on firing at prone, unmoving targets. If the fourth man reacted by rolling off to one side, Rayce would have little chance of getting a clean hit. If that happened, all bets were off.