Act of War aow-1

by Dale Brown

  They could hear the loud “WHUUMP!” as Moore hit the hangar roof, but thankfully he didn’t come through it. He took two steps and leaped off the other end, clearing the street outside and almost landing atop the Tumbleweed Dining Facility. Moore caught a glimpse of Bolton, just fifteen meters ahead of him. He was running toward the entry gate to the shooting range about fifty meters to his left. This time, Moore didn’t hesitate—he ran right for the four-meter-high wooden fence surrounding the outdoor shooting range, crashing through it with ease, and just kept on running. Seconds later, just as Bolton made it through the access gate, Moore was crashing through the fence on the other side of the range, and he made it to the finish line well ahead of the FBI special agent.

  “Waa-hoo!” Falcone shouted, as he ran through the decimated wooden fence. “Did you freakin’ see that? He didn’t even slow down! And I can’t believe he leaped on top of that hangar in one jump. That has to be ten meters high!”

  “We’re going to have to repair those fences, sir,” was all Jennifer McCracken could say. Richter looked at Jefferson, who wore a stony expression—he imagined he could see a slight nod of approval, but couldn’t be sure.

  “I suppose you’re going to say,” Kelsey DeLaine said as she joined Jason a few moments later, “that you intend that the way Sergeant Moore performed was the way you intend the CID units to act in the field, right, Major?”

  “That’s exactly right, Kelsey,” Jason said. “These two guys just covered two kilometers through varied quasi-urban and open terrain in less than a minute. They’re better than Humvees, Kelsey—they can go over an obstacle as well as through or around it. And they can do the same with a three-hundred-kilo weapon pack on.”

  Ari ran over to Doug Moore, yelling and jumping in celebration. “Great job, Doug!” she shouted happily. “Man, you were awesome!” She showed him how to dismount from the machine, helped him climb out, and gave him a big hug when he was back on the ground. “How do you feel, tiger?” she asked. He smiled, nodded…then turned away from her and promptly vomited on the ground. “That happens to everyone the first time in CID, Doug,” she said. “It’s like astronauts trying to walk after being in space—it feels too weird.” She gave the orders for the machine to stow itself, then put an arm around Moore’s waist and helped him back to the hangar, while Jefferson had a couple of soldiers carry CID Two back to the hangar.

  Bolton took his machine back to the hangar, exited it with help from Richter, and folded it. “How did it feel, Carl?” Kelsey asked as Jason and Ari stowed it back in the Humvee.

  “It’s fine—if you want to go crashing through walls all the time,” Bolton replied. He shook his head. “It works amazingly well, but it’s not suited to our needs, Kelsey.” Sergeant Major Jefferson walked over to them to listen in. “I think you know what I’m talking about, Sergeant Major,” Bolton went on, immediately including the army veteran in his review. “In some situations, it would be great having something like that leading the way. But if Chamberlain or Richter thinks we can form an entire unit of those things, he’s sadly mistaken.”

  Jason and Ari heard their interchange and quickly went to join them after attaching the folded CID unit to its power and diagnostic umbilical in the Humvee. “It seems pretty effective to me, Carl,” Kelsey said. “Sergeant Major? Your thoughts?”

  “It’s a bull in a china shop, ma’am,” Jefferson said flatly, giving Richter a suspicious glance. “I’ve been training Army Ranger and other Special Forces units for a decade and a half. There’s a reason why they don’t use stuff like this: it’s too cumbersome, too expensive, too unresponsive, and too difficult to support and maintain. Special-ops teams require maximum stealth, mobility, adaptability, and minimum support, hassle, and complexity. CID is everything special ops is not. As Agent Bolton said, it certainly is impressive; as a support device, it might be useful.”

  “Useful?” Jason exclaimed. He shook his head, smiling in frustration. “CID is a revolutionary technology that makes its wearer powerful, nearly invincible, and as effective as a light armored or missile squad, and the best thing you can say about it is that it’s useful? C’mon, Sergeant Major, give me a break.”

  “With all due respect, Major,” Jefferson shot back, “I was assigned to this task force by the White House and Pentagon to build a military team designed to travel around the country and around the world pursuing terrorists, not to test and evaluate new technology. We’ve already wasted half a morning playing with these toys…”

  “Toys…?”

  “…and I agree with Special Agents DeLaine and Bolton that we can be using our time more effectively if we concentrate on building a more conventional special-ops force, composed of highly skilled operators from both the FBI and military. Obviously the President’s National Security Adviser is enamored of your devices there, sir, but I don’t really think he expected us to build an entire unit around CID.”

  “Then why did he place me in command of Task Force TALON?” Jason asked.

  “He placed us in command, Major,” Kelsey said, making a point of using Richter’s rank similarly to Jefferson to make it obvious she was siding with the sergeant major. “Look, we’re supposed to get this unit up and running in a week and a half. Now we could spend the next three months studying how to use CID and another three months designing a training program for the field, or Sergeant Major Jefferson and I can work together with you to develop a standard special ops–capable unit and then as we go we can find ways to merge CID into our activities. It’ll just take too long if we try to do it the other way around.”

  Jason looked over at Ari, who was still sitting with Moore as he tried to recover from his experience. She shrugged and turned her attention back to the Air Force sergeant. This was definitely turning into an “us-versus-them” scenario, Jason thought. He felt like arguing some more in an almost desperate attempt to try to make them realize what kind of power and capability he was placing in their hands—but it didn’t seem like it was going to work.

  Richter shrugged. “Okay, guys,” he said. “We don’t have any experience organizing or leading special-ops or intelligence units; we’re just lowly engineers. I’ll do whatever I need to do to help the team.”

  “Hey, Jason, let’s not have that ‘lowly’ stuff—everybody’s valuable on this team,” Kelsey said. Frankly, she didn’t really expect too much static from the eggheads, although she was ready to jump down Jason’s throat and shut him up quick if he did any more whining. She was surprised at the incredible capabilities of the CID units, but Jefferson was right—it would simply take too long to try to integrate those machines into an effective special-ops unit. They had work to do, and Richter was just not up to the task of organizing and training a light-quick-reaction fighting force. “If we start thinking like a team, we’ll start fighting like one. Right, Sergeant Major?”

  “Absolutely, ma’am,” Jefferson responded smartly.

  “Agreed, Jason?”

  “Sure,” Jason said. “What should we do first?”

  “Let’s put away the robots and grab some coffee,” Kelsey said. “Everybody, take ten and then meet at the conference room.” She grabbed Bolton’s and Jefferson’s arms and took them with her on the way back to the conference room.

  “Looks like the Fee-Bee has taken charge here, Jason,” Ari observed.

  The meeting was already underway by the time Jason and Ari arrived at the conference room. “Lieutenant McCracken,” Kelsey was asking, “I assume you have some basic Table of Organization and Equipment documents we can use to get us started?”

  “Of course, ma’am,” McCracken responded.

  “Explain how it’s organized if you would.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” McCracken responded. “The basic organization of every Marine unit, from the smallest platoon to the largest division, is the same: a command element, a support element, and one or more operations elements. A platoon is usually composed of a command element, a support element, two machine gun
or mortar squads, and two security squads. Each squad is composed of four to eight Marines; the command and support elements have roughly the same number, depending on the mission, making each platoon number between twenty-four and forty-eight Marines.”

  “Very good,” Kelsey said. “That’s about the same setup for an FBI field unit, so we’re already on the same page. I move that we adopt that Marine infantry platoon TO&E for our first Task Force TALON field unit, have the sergeant major get the men and equipment out here ASAP, and start training right away. We can tweak it as we get more intelligence information about our target; I can see that we would need some specialized nuclear-chemical-biological weapon detection, decontamination, and neutralization equipment, for example. Any thoughts?”

  “Just one—we don’t need any of that stuff,” Jason said. “Two full-up CID units on one, preferably two, Humvee platforms are all we need. In about a month I can have all our weapons packs out here and have two CIDs trained and ready to go. Give me a C-130 and I can deploy anywhere in the western hemisphere in two days.”

  “We’ve been through this already, Major,” Kelsey said, the exasperation evident in her voice. “We’re very impressed by CID, but we’d be wasting too much time learning how to use it and then learning how to employ it in the field. We’ve got the basic setup already drawn up and ready to go—no sense in reinventing the wheel here.”

  “If it’s so logical, why do you think Sergeant Major Jefferson or Chamberlain didn’t already have a platoon out here waiting for us?”

  “That’s argumentative, Major, and not very constructive,” Kelsey said pointedly. “Any other objections?”

  “What are Ari and I supposed to do while you guys are out playing army?”

  “Major Richter, I expected a lot more cooperation and contribution and a lot less attitude from you,” Kelsey said. “National Security Adviser Chamberlain invited you here because he was obviously impressed by CID and thought it could make a contribution. I think it’s up to you to find out how best to utilize your technology. But we’ve decided that a basic infantry platoon is the best organizational unit to start with. Once the task force is set up and running, we’ll be looking to you to let us know how we can integrate CID with it, most likely in a support role. In the meantime, I think you could be extremely helpful in setting up and organizing the command and support elements.”

  That was a not-too-subtle blow-off, Jason decided, but he wasn’t going to protest—besides, it was the answer he was hoping for. He nodded, and he and Ari took their seats and remained mostly quiet for the rest of the meeting.

  Jason soon had to grudgingly admit that Kelsey DeLaine was a good organizer and an effective leader, well tuned to her audience and not afraid to challenge others for their opinion, commitment, or compliance. She didn’t tolerate any sidetracks. By the time the meeting was over in less than an hour everyone, including him, had a full list of things to do and a very tight and strict timeline in which to get them done.

  “You run a pretty tight ship, Special Agent DeLaine,” Jason said after everyone else except Ari and Bolton had left the room.

  “Thanks. Ten years in the Bureau, most of it in organizing operations, surveillance missions, and joint task forces such as this will do it.” She stopped shuffling the notes before her and looked at Richter. “I feel we got off on the wrong foot, Jason. I know you’re proud of CID—justifiably so…”

  “I sure am.”

  “But I’m concerned about meeting Sergeant Major Jefferson’s and National Security Adviser Chamberlain’s deadlines for organizing a fully mission-ready unit,” Kelsey went on. “I’m sure CID is incredibly effective and useful, but I don’t know anything about it, or you, or the technology behind it. If it doesn’t work, or we can’t build a fighting unit around it, we’d have to start all over, and by then another American city could get attacked. I just don’t want to take the chance.”

  “I hear what you’re saying, Kelsey,” Jason said. “But Ari and I do know how to use CID, and we’re here. We’re ready to teach all of you, even Sergeant Major Jefferson, how to use it. You just have to trust us.”

  “Not that argument again, Richter,” Bolton moaned. “It’s time to get off that old song.”

  Kelsey held up a hand to Bolton. “I think you know where we’re coming from, Jason,” Kelsey said. “CID is your pride and joy, and you want to see it in action. The sergeant major and I have experience with setting up small-unit special-ops task forces. That’s our background and training. When under the gun like this, we simply fall back on our experience and training. We’re not trying to exclude you—in fact, after a while, we might have nothing but a platoon full of CID units in this…”

  “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, Kelsey—with CID, you don’t need a whole platoon of soldiers to do the job,” Jason interjected. “Don’t you get it? Chamberlain chose us because he saw the potential for a rapid-reaction force that can swing into action now, not a month or two from now until we get thirty guys out here, trained, and equipped for what we want to do. I think he chose CID because we’re ready now.”

  “Jason…”

  “If you want to organize a platoon in the traditional sense, fine—the command and support elements make total sense,” Jason went on. “But you don’t need sixteen Marines to form the operational elements, because I guarantee that two CIDs have the same fighting power and self-defense capabilities of four Marine mortar or rifle squads. Plus, we’re here, ready to go.”

  Kelsey looked at Jason for a long moment, thinking hard. “I don’t know…”

  “Both of you, stop right now,” Sergeant Major Jefferson interjected. He regarded Kelsey for a few moments, making it clear that he didn’t believe her. “Special Agent DeLaine: Why, may I ask, are you not going to utilize Major Richter’s weapon systems?”

  “I’m just not familiar enough with them, and I feel we don’t have the time to fully integrate that technology into the task force’s mission,” Kelsey responded. She glanced at Jason, then added, “I just don’t trust him yet, that’s all. We should prepare a TO&E for a standard infantry platoon, configured and customized for joint military–FBI tactics, rapid deployment, and special-operations missions. We feel we can be on time and fully mission-ready within the allotted time frame.”

  “Major?” Jefferson asked, without turning his eyes away from Kelsey. “You agree?”

  “No, Sergeant Major, I don’t,” Jason replied. “But I’m willing to defer to Special Agent DeLaine’s and your experience and cooperate with your plan. I’ll be sure to make suggestions at every relevant point on how CID can enhance and improve the task force’s effectiveness.”

  Jefferson turned and faced Richter, and he looked none too pleased. “Well, suddenly you two seem to be all sweetness and light together,” he said acidly. “It had better stay this way, or I will shit-can both of you and see to it that you are both assigned to an office in the farthest reaches of Greenland or northern Uzbekistan, where you can threaten and cajole each other twenty-four-seven until I can successfully get you drummed out of your respective services. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yes, Sergeant Major,” they both responded.

  “Hoo fucking-rah,” Jefferson said in a low, menacing voice. “I am going to meet with the base commanding general, and I’m going to brief him on our activities here and then do nine holes of golf. Being a good subordinate army NCO, I will lose to him by two strokes, which I hate doing, so I will be in no mood for any bullshit. By the time I return, I want the TO&E transmitted to my laptop for my review and approval. And it had better be complete, or I will come back out here and shove that aforementioned laptop down both your throats piece by piece. Have I made myself understood?”

  “Perfectly, Sergeant Major.”

  Jefferson then turned to DeLaine and said, “The President’s National Security Adviser did not assign Richter, Vega, and their equipment here just to watch you do your own thing. If you don’t know how CID wor
ks, then I strongly suggest you take the time to learn. I’m not telling you how to run your task force, but when we give you tools we expect you to use them unless you decide they’re no good. Can you do that, Special Agent DeLaine?”

  Kelsey hesitated just long enough for Jefferson’s eyes to widen in anger before replying, “Of course, Sergeant Major.”

  “Do you have anything else you wish to tell me, DeLaine?” he asked suspiciously. “Speak now, because if I leave this room and you two still have a problem that needs to be addressed, and you don’t inform me of it, I will hold you personally responsible for the outcome. Do you have anything to say to me, Special Agent DeLaine?”

  She took another glance at Jason, returned her gaze to Jefferson, and said, “We’ll take care of it, Sergeant Major.”

  Jefferson nodded, his expression still angry but willing to let them try to work it out together. “I’m holding you to it, DeLaine,” he said. “Major Richter, do you have anything to add?”

  “No, Sergeant Major.”

  “Now stop your squabbling and get to work,” Jefferson said. No one dared move or even blink until the Army Ranger departed.

  “Well, that was enjoyable,” Jason deadpanned. He turned to Sergeant Moore. “You did good today in CID Two, Doug. Still want to train with us in the CID?”

  “Yes, sir!” Moore said enthusiastically.

  “You’re a stand-up guy, Doug—and besides, you fit perfectly into CID Two. Meet up with Ari in the Humvee; she’ll run your orientation program.”

  “After we go out to the range to learn how to shoot,” Ari added.

  “You still want to learn how to shoot, Dr. Vega?” Moore asked, surprised. “I thought all that was just to get my mind off climbing into CID Two.”

  “As long as we’re all being honest here: yes, it was to take your mind off CID,” Ari admitted. “But I really want to learn how to shoot—all the other army guys I know are too busy or too married to take me out to the range. As long as you stop calling me ‘Dr. Vega’ and ‘ma’am,’ we’re still on. Start me off small and light, then work up to the bigger stuff—I want to learn to shoot every weapon we might have in the field, even the really big cannons. Okay?”