The Fey
Page 30
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Twenty-five minutes later
October 8—12:25 P.M.
Near Fort Logan National Cemetery, Colorado
“Can we get Secret Service feed?” Alex asked the pilot.
“Ma’am,” the co-pilot said. “We’d prefer for you to stay in the passenger compartment.”
“Oh, sorry—Captain Jakkman usually talks to me while he flies.”
“Ma’am, Captain Jakkman is dead.”
Alex stared at the co-pilot. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes went wide. Even though she knew that Zack was all right, she simply could not believe this young Sergeant’s lack of sensitivity. She had known Zack since she moved to Denver when she was ten years old. They went all the way through Catholic school together. And this little snot-nosed Sergeant was going to tell her that her friend was dead?
“What’s your name?”
“Ma’am, we’d prefer for you to return to your friends,” the co-pilot said.
“Your name, Sergeant.”
Furious, she blinked her eyes and smiled slightly. Matthew came up behind her. He looked at the co-pilot and then at Alex.
“Sir, can you remove her from the cockpit?” the co-pilot asked Matthew.
“You’re asking me to remove Major Drayson from the cockpit?” Matthew asked. “I’ve been held hostage . . . twice. This face,” he pointed to Alex’s face, “is the face you want to see. Sooner rather than later. Pilots are picked up all the time. You’d better make up because the Fey never forgets. Come on, Major.”
Alex raised her eyebrows and returned to the back of the helicopter, where Troy had laid out their parachutes.
“Body armor?” Alex asked.
Troy gave her a flak jacket. She was tightening the sides of the jacket when the helicopter engineer came to the compartment.
“Major?”
“Yes, Sergeant,” Alex said. Looking at Troy, she said, “Is there a smaller one? This one is too big. I usually wear a medium; sometimes a small. I’m tall, but I’m not very big around.”
“That’s a medium,” Troy said opening a compartment.
“Then a small. I think these Air Force jackets are made for fatter people.”
Handing her a small flak jacket, Troy took the medium from her.
“Sir?”
“What, Sergeant?”
“Permission to speak, sir.”
“What do you want, Sergeant?” Alex asked. “This is perfect, Troy. Thanks.”
“I wanted to apologize for the co-pilot. We didn’t know who you were. We thought you were, um, that guy’s girlfriend.” He pointed to Troy.
Troy looked up and said, “I wish.”
“Let’s get our chutes on,” she said.
“Major?”
“It is unbecoming for any soldier to be that insensitive . . . to anyone—but particularly to a fellow soldier.” Alex’s face flushed. She looked down at the flak jacket to keep from venting her frustration and rage at the engineer. “He has no right to speak to anyone like that. You can guaran-fucking-tee that I will speak with his superior and . . . “
She was going to add “the Jakker,” knowing that Zack would make certain that the co-pilot’s life was hell. Matthew caught her eyes and shook his head. She let a breath out.
“Let’s just say that the Fey doesn’t forget.”
“Yes, sir,” the engineer said. “Your Sergeant left this backpack for you, and the pilot would like to speak with you.”
The engineer gave her a backpack.
“Thank you, Sergeant. Now, go away.”
Alex opened the pack and smiled.
Ah, my Secret Service feed.
She slipped an ear bud into her ear and listened to the Secret Service agents speak to each other about some woman’s amazing behind. Digging in the backpack, she found communication devices for the three of them. She passed ear buds and microphones to Troy and Matthew and checked to see if they could connect Larry. Listening, she heard Eoin and Cian arguing with Larry about a united Ireland. She found three Snickers candy bars, a present from Colonel Gordon, in the pack. Troy laughed when she threw him a Snickers bar. Matthew looked up from putting on his parachute when Troy laughed. Alex gave him a Snickers bar.
“Get ready, and I’ll see what these jerks want,” Alex said. She walked to the cockpit again. “What do you want?”
“Sir, we would like to apologize again,” the pilot said.
“I understand that,” Alex replied. “We need a connection to command. While I realize Captain Jakkman is dead,” she sneered at the co-pilot, “he usually serves as our connection. It is my understanding that this is standard for most pilots. Will you be able to assist us, or shall I find another way to connect with command?”
“Sir, I have your command on the radio. They’re waiting to speak with you.”
“Thank you, Sergeant. Can you put them on speaker?”
“Yes, Major,” the pilot said. “We are three minutes out.”
The co-pilot flipped a switch connecting Alex with her Sergeant.
“Major?”
“Yes, Sergeant?”
“I sent our latest intel to the pocket computer in the backpack.”
“I didn’t see a pocket computer,” Alex said.
“It’s in the front pocket. Also, Colonel Gordon has spoken with the Air Force commander regarding the interchange between you and the co-pilot. The Air Force commander said to tell you that he wears an ‘F’ and will deal with it as soon as they return to base.”
Alex looked at the co-pilot. “Forgot to turn your mic off?”
“Sir, I am very sorry.”
“It’s not my problem now,” Alex said. She rubbed her eyes and added, “Listen, we all make mistakes. Get us through this alive, and I’ll speak with your command.”
The co-pilot nodded, “Thanks.”
“Major?”
“Yes, Sergeant?”
“We’ve got you on satellite. And, sir?”
“Yes?”
“There’s a wind out of the west.”
“Thank you, Sergeant.” Turning to the pilot, she said, ”I need you to patch in on our frequency. We aren’t sure what we are walking into. We need access to command.”
“Yes, sir,” the pilot said.
She moved to the back of the helicopter and put on a parachute. Digging the pocket computer from the pack, she reviewed the information and slipped the computer into her back pocket. She went from Troy to Matthew, checking their body armor, communication units, and parachutes.
“We’ve got a westerly wind,” Alex said. “Let’s try not to die.”
“Good plan,” Troy said.
“We’re there,” the pilot said. “We will meet you at the entrance.”
“Go,” Alex said, and Troy jumped.
“Go,” Alex said, and Matthew jumped.
Alex stood at the door of the helicopter for a moment watching the world below. This was her first real mission without her team. She missed them. She blew out a breath and jumped from the helicopter.
They fell fast, in a straight, military free-fall dive, with Troy laughing the entire way down. Pointing at the target, he pulled his chute and landed. He rolled out of the way, and Matthew landed. He rolled, and Alex landed. They ran toward the cover of the trees.
“Let’s go,” Alex said.
Dropping their chutes, they ran two miles toward the Memorial. They stopped a half mile from the ceremony.
“Any word?” Matthew asked.
“Nothing,” Alex said. “Secret Service missed the drop. Troy, what do you see?”
Troy scanned the cemetery with binoculars. “Politicians talking.”
“Let’s spread out and see if we can find the shooter,” Alex said.
“And if we don’t?” Matthew asked.
“We notify Larry and get the hell out of there,” Alex said.
“And hope their body armor holds,” Matthew added.
“Well, that too,” Alex said. “You ha
ve your DOD badges?”
Troy and Matthew nodded.
“Major?” the pilot called from the helicopter.
“Yes?”
“There’s a unit at the entrance,” he said. “Your command requested Police and SWAT backup.”
“Can you still land?” Alex asked.
“I’ll need clearance,” the pilot said.
Letting out a breath, Alex never missed Zack more. “Fuck the police,” he would have said. “Let the brass work out the paperwork.” Then he would have landed. Alex was the brass who ended up filling out all that paperwork. She sighed. She would give anything for that stack of paperwork right now.
“Can you patch me to my command?”
“Your Sergeant is on the line,” the pilot said.
“Sergeant?”
“I’m on it. Go ahead.”
“All right, we’re going to find our shooter.”
They split up around the ceremony. The fastest runner, Matthew took off to the corner farthest away from where they were standing. Troy set off to the west. Alex took the side closest to where they stood.
“I’ve got one,” Matthew said. “Long-range rifle . . . looks like maybe an M-21 . . . in the trees here.”
“I’ve got another in the trees,” Troy said. “AK-47 about 300 meters from the ceremony.”
“G.I. Joe Team? This is your commander, and I’m in place,” Larry said.
They laughed.
“There’s nothing but people here. And, damn, there are a lot of people. I’m set to disrupt the ceremony.”
“Go ahead, Larry. We need the cover,” Alex said.
“Yes, Major.”
“Ok, I’ve got a third shooter. Another long-range rifle, M-21,” Alex said. “He’s standing behind a tree. Just a second.”
She crept noiselessly behind the armed man. Reaching around his neck with her arm, she held him in a chokehold while pressing her other hand to his mouth. He punched her with his elbow and she brought her knee into his kidney. She held steady until the shooter went limp. She dropped him to the ground.
“Got him,” Alex said. “Let’s see what we have here. Uh, Male, Arabic, mid-twenties . . . We’ve got a sleeping non-national . . .”
The man moved, and Alex punched his temple. He dropped unconscious again.
“Syrian, looks like. Let’s see . . .what’s in his bag? We’ve some C-4 and lunch. Nice. Anyone hungry?”
Troy and Matthew laughed. “What do you want us to do?”
“Hang on for a second. Sergeant?”
“Sir, your Sergeant is off line,” the pilot said.
“Can you check with my command and see if we have any Federals or law enforcement in the trees here?” Alex asked.
“Got it,” the pilot replied.
“Sergeant? The emphasis is on ANY Federals or law enforcement.”
“Yes, Major.”
“Matthew?” Alex called. “Did you bring a silencer?”
“Yes,” he said.
“Put it on,” Alex said. “Troy? Do you have a handgun?”
“Yes, but I wanted to use the Henry,” Troy said.
“Your command says no Federals, no law enforcement in the trees,” the pilot said. “I repeat, no Federals, no law enforcement.”
“Take ’em down,” Alex said.
There was a burst of machine gun fire, followed by the distinctive sound of the Henry. Across the cemetery, Alex heard shots fired in succession in the area of the ceremony. Three shots? Four? Then a shot answering in response.
As people’s screams echoed through the monuments and white grave markers, Alex dropped to her knees, gasping in pain. She clutched her chest. Max was letting her know that he had been shot.
“Alex, are you hit?” Matthew asked.
“No. Max. Broken rib. Troy?”
“Sorry about that,” Troy said. “He saw me and pulled off a few rounds.”
“How many?” Alex asked.
“Three,” Troy said.
“Did he fire into the Memorial?” Alex asked.
“No. He fired at me,” Troy said. “I’m coming back.”
“I’ll meet you at the bird,” Matthew said.
Troy ran to Alex, and they set off toward the entrance. Larry was waiting for them near the edge of the ceremony. They ran toward the entrance. The helicopter was running when they got there. Alex opened the door for Larry and Troy to jump in behind him. Alex turned to look for Matthew when he ran up behind her. She followed him into the chopper and closed the door.
“Get us out of here,” Alex said to the pilot.
Alex turned to Larry. “Sergeant? Your report.”
“Joseph was shot by a Secret Service agent. Then, I’m sorry, sir, the agent shot your brother and your husband,” he said. “Agent Rasmussen fired on the agent. I left after that.”
“Cian and Eoin?”
“They are with your brother and husband.”
Alex opened her cell phone and called Raz. No answer. While Troy and Matthew told an enraptured Larry about the shooters, Alex sat down by herself.
Staring into space, she worked up the courage to do what needed to be done. Once she set this train in motion, there was no going back. Swallowing hard, she dialed Ben.
“Max Hargreaves and John Drayson were killed at the ceremony today, as was Captain Joseph Walter.”
“Got it,” he said. “Jakker?”
“The same.”
“Will do.” He clicked off.
“Major?” the pilot called from the cockpit. “Your commander is requesting your report.”
The co-pilot moved out of his seat. Leaning over her, the co-pilot plugged in a headset. Alex took the headset and put it on her head.
“This is Major Drayson,” Alex said.
“Colonel Gordon here.” His voice was tense and formal.
“Yes, sir,” Alex said.
“I need a report, Major Drayson.”
“This channel is not secure, sir,” Alex said.
“Don’t tell me what I already know,” he said.
“We found three shooters—two in the trees and one on the ground. I knocked out the first shooter. The shooter was a non-national carrying C-4 in a backpack. We checked with command, who informed us that there were no Federals or law enforcement in the trees. My associates took out the other two shooters. We returned to our meeting location and are now in the air.”
“Confirm AK-47 fire,” the Colonel said.
“Roughly three rounds were fired at my associate from a shooter about 300 meters west of the Memorial. The shooter was eliminated.”
“Were shots fired toward the ceremony?” the Colonel asked.
“No, sir,” Alex said. “There was no fire from our direction into the Memorial area. We cannot confirm information outside of our direct experience.”
“Major, I expect a detailed written report,” Colonel Gordon said. A loud click indicated that he’d ended the call.
Alex moved toward the back of the helicopter. She’d just reached the passenger compartment when her cell phone vibrated. She opened the phone.
“Howard, what is going on?” she asked.
“A Secret Service officer shot Captain Walter, Max Hargreaves, and John Drayson before being neutralized by Agent Rasmussen,” Colonel Gordon said. “Our guys picked up the shooters after you took off. The Secret Service is saying that they were responding to shots fired by Captain Walter. They say that Max and John got in the way. You’ll be interested to know that Captain Walter is not armed.”
“What are their conditions?” Alex asked, as she closed her eyes.
“We have a report from Homeland Security that all three are confirmed fatalities.”
“That’s correct.”
“Captain Walter is en route to the hospital, but he’s fine. We’re dropping him en route where his wife is waiting for him. Max and John are on their way to St. Joseph’s Hospital. Both received minor injuries. They will be pronounced DOA at the hospital.”
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“And Captain Walter?”
“Pronounced at the scene,” Howard said. “You’re sure about this.”
“Yes, sir. This is a major offensive. Eleazar must believe that he is succeeding.”
“He will be left with only one option.”
“Yes, sir. He has only one option now.”
“And Captain Jakkman?” Colonel Howard Gordon asked.
“Sir?” Alex asked.
“How . . .”
“Sir?”
“Never mind. I need full details on my desk tomorrow. And Alex? Dot every single ‘i.’”
“Yes, sir. And, sir? Agent Rasmussen?”
“He’s Homeland Security,” Howard said. “He didn’t kill that little weasel. They’ll release Agent Rasmussen.”
“And the President?” Alex asked.
“He’s bruised up from the Secret Service, but he’ll live.”
“Thanks,” Alex said.
“I’m proud of you guys. Tell your associates that they’ll get a Presidential commendation.”
“Thank you, sir,” Alex said to her dead phone. He had already hung up. She closed her phone.
She looked at Troy and Matthew.
“As far as we’re concerned, they are dead. Joseph died at the scene. Max and John will be DOA at the hospital.”
“What about your parents? Erin?” Matthew asked.
“Would you mind calling Colin? Tell him everything. I need to take care of a few things. Then become the grieving widow.”
When Matthew’s attention turned to his telephone call, Troy asked, “Alex, what is Eleazar’s only option?”
“He’s coming for me.”
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