Assassin's Redemption: Stolen Memories, #1

by Richard Allen Evans

  “All I know is we're to sweep the area outside the fence in case the local police try to sneak in,” the second guard said.

  They were within ten feet of him now.

  “I think ol' Gene is losing it. Must be all this election bullshit,” the first guard.

  “Maybe, but his checks still spend” the other guard said. “Besides, I'm looking forward to seeing if locals show up. I'd love to bag a couple of rednecks,” the second guard said as he turned his head.

  Suddenly, he heard a noise and felt something spray on the side of his face.

  “What was -” his last words were cut short, literally as the flashing knife blade sliced his throat from one side to the other.

  Chuck slung the .30-06 over his shoulder and bent over and picked up the comm equipment off of the first guard. He also grabbed the AK-47 the guard carried. At medium range it would be more effective than his handgun and much faster than the bolt action rifle.

  He grabbed the black cap off of the guard. It didn't fit. Chuck tossed it away and grabbed the other. It didn't exactly fit either but it would have to do. He stepped through the opening in the fence and started walking toward the back of the house like he belonged on patrol on that sector.

  Chuck hoped his black clothing would blend in enough so as not to attract the attention of the people monitoring the security cameras. He tried to stay in the darkness as much as possible.

  His prey was close.

  ***

  When Beau and Haley got back to the sheriff's department, they walked into a firestorm. Marcus quickly filled them in on what happened.

  “We've got to go after him,” Beau said.

  “Chet's getting the S.W.A.T. team from Knox County. As soon as they get here, we roll out,” Marcus said.

  “We can't wait that long,” Beau said as he walked into Chet's office.

  “We've got to go now,” Beau said.

  “I know you want Cyprus and so do I. But take a look around. How many people here have been in a firefight? You, me, Ken, and Bill Benson from the city police are combat veterans. And of that group, you have the most recent experience. The rest of us are old men. Raven has trained mercs on patrol. I lost two officers tonight. I don't want to lose any more needlessly. Like it or not, we have to wait for the tactical specialists,” Chet said. “What's their ETA?” Haley asked.

  “An hour - hour and a half tops,” Chet said.

  “And how long for the tactical briefing?” Beau asked.

  “We've sent as much intel along as we could,” Chet said.

  “How long?” Beau asked. “Forty-five minutes to an hour minimum?”

  “Probably,” Chet said.

  “We're looking at two hours or so at the earliest. That's too long and you know it,” Beau said.

  “If you have a better idea, I'm all ears,” Chet said.

  “I do have an idea,” Beau said.

  “Let’s hear it,” Chet said.

  “I need a small team of experienced men. The men you mentioned and Marcus would work. He got fire fight experience tonight,” Beau said.

  “Now wait a minute. So did I,” Haley protested.

  “Haley please, we don't have time to argue,” Beau said.

  “What do you have in mind?” Chet asked.

  “Create a diversion. Keep them occupied. I'll sneak in during the confusion,” Beau said.

  “And then what?” Chet asked.

  “Do what I need to do,” Beau said.

  “You'll get yourself killed,” Haley said.

  “I know what I'm doing,” Beau said.

  “I know you do, but we're going to do it my way. We're going with the guys who are trained for this. We have multiple units along with the highway patrol guarding all exits from the estate. We have them bottled up,” Chet said.

  “What if they have a helicopter?” Beau asked.

  “I've already thought of that. I called for the THP helicopter but they said it's too foggy to get one in the air. So if they're not flying, Raven and Cyprus aren't either,” Chet said.

  Just as Beau predicted, the S.W.A.T. team showed in about an hour. Capt. Victor Walker of the Knox County Sheriff's Department briefed his men and the Butcher County and Stone City officers.

  “My men will take the lead. We're experienced and trained in hostage rescue. This situation isn't much different. We're facing the equivalent of a small military force. It stands to reason they are similarly armed. We have the firepower to stand against them. Pump shotguns and .357's won't get it done. We need you folks to wait until we open the door. Any questions?” Walker asked.

  Beau raised his hand.

  “I don't have a question. I'd just like to volunteer to help 'open the door.' I'm a trained sniper with combat experience,” he said.

  “I appreciate that Det. Fullbright but my snipers are situationally trained. Simply put, they are the best and you would only be in the way,” Walker said.

  “Don't worry Beau, you'll get your chance at them,” Thurman said as Beau simply nodded without a word.

  Haley and Marcus knew he was angry. Certainly, Chet did as well, as his comment was meant to smooth over the prickly attitude of Walker.

  “Now, does anybody have any questions?” Walker asked.

  “Where are we supposed to be while you guys are taking care of business?” Marcus asked.

  “As long as you're behind us, it doesn't matter. We'll do the heavy lifting,” Walker said smugly.

  “Most of the officers from this department, Stone City PD, and THP will be dispersed around the estate to cut off anyone trying to escape. We will have our own group that will go in and ideally, make the arrests,” Chet said.

  “Any more question? If not, I suggest we saddle up,” Walker said.

  ***

  “I've waited long enough. Let's load the helicopter and go,” Gene said.

  “Sir, I want to fly out but the fog and the rain are just too much. If we took off right now we'd have a fifty-fifty chance of hitting a mountain. It just isn't safe,” said John Harbor, the pilot as he pointed to the horizon from the rear balcony.

  “I value safety as much as the next guy but how safe do you think he or will be when the police come rolling in? You can kiss your nice, easy paycheck goodbye if that happens,” Cyprus said.

  “But our security...can't we hold them off?” Harbor asked.

  “We can for a little while but who knows how long it will be before we have break and run or just surrender outright to avoid prosecution? No, we have no choice,” Cyprus said.

  “If you weren't the only pilot here tonight you would have already been fired,” Gene said. “Now, get the bird ready to leave!”

  “Yes sir,” Harbor said in resignation.

  He wheeled to leave when a hammer blow slammed into the upper left section of his chest and knocked him to the marble floor of the balcony.

  ***

  Chuck could hear the conversation from below. The helicopter sat on the helipad roughly one hundred yards away. He figured the weather and the fog would be enough to keep it grounded. When he heard the order given, he had no choice. Chuck quickly stepped back far enough and fired the .30-06. The weapon was just as smooth and accurate as the guy at the pawn shop claimed.

  He hit where he aimed. He had no intention of killing the pilot but he did want to make sure that chopper stayed on the ground.

  As soon as he fired, he heard Cyprus screaming for Gene to get down. He had no idea that Chuck couldn't see either of them or he would dropped Gene instead of the pilot. And then Chuck heard the chatter over his ear piece.

  “Shooter in sector four, red quadrant. Say again, shooter on sector four, rear quadrant,” the voice called as Chuck ran for the house. He slung the bolt-action rifle and gripped the AK-47.

  He heard boots on the ground headed his way. In the distance it sounded like a firefight had broken out. Probably jumpy guards firing at shadows or each other. Chuck's heart raced and his mouth went dry. If he would have he ha
d the urge to urinate, he would have emptied his bladder.

  The end appeared near. What started on a firebase in Vietnam was about to end in East Tennessee.

  “I'll take out as many as I can son. It's up to you after that. I'm sorry Trish. I let you down again,” Chuck said with his eyes looking up.

  That's when he felt the earth shake and then heard the earth shattering explosion.

  ***

  The S.W.A.T. team took the lead and got into position near the gate. Walker manned a bullhorn and identified himself.

  “You are ordered to open the gate and stand down. We are to serve arrest warrants. Any person that interferes -” that was as far as he got before a barrage of shots rang out from a .50 caliber machine gun, sending Walker scrambling for cover.

  Chet, Beau, Marcus, and Haley watched from behind a cruiser.

  “Snipers take out that gun. Alpha Team, knock down that gate!” Walker yelled over the radio.

  The tank-like vehicle that was tipped with a battering ram crept forward. The .50 cal opened up again with bullets clanging off the armored vehicle. The snipers fired. Their fire was met with two other .50 calibers.

  The sniper fire ended.

  A flame shot out from atop the wall and the front of the armored vehicle exploded. Two officers rolled out of the back of the vehicle dragging a third wounded officer.

  “Snipers report!” Walker screamed into the mic. “Snipers report!” He repeated.

  “Damn! They're getting murdered!” Chet said.

  Small arms fire went back and forth.

  “Bravo Team report!” Walker shouted.

  “We're pinned down Captain. We need covering fire!” The officer responded.

  “Sheriff Thurman! Can your people put down enough fire to free Bravo team?” Walker asked.

  “We'll try Captain!” Chet said.

  He looked at Beau.

  “You went after firepower. What have you got?” Chet asked.

  “Come with me,” Beau said as he hurried along low until he got to the Bronco. He opened the wind gate and raised the floor cover of the cargo area.

  “I'm guessing you know how to use this,” Beau said as he handed a vintage .50 cal to Chet, complete with an ammo belt.

  “Yes, I can,” he said as he looked at Beau in wonder.

  “You take this,” Beau said as he handed a shotgun-looking weapon to Marcus.

  “What the hell is it?” He asked.

  “It's a grenade launcher,” Chet said.

  “Use it like a shotgun. Break down the barrel, load, and fire,” Beau said.

  “Haley, this is yours,” he said.

  “AK-47. Nice,” she said.

  “And I'll take this,” Beau said as he pulled a funny looking rifle out.

  “Is that what I think it is?” Chet asked.

  “Gepard anti-materiel rifle. This is effective up to two thousand meters. I have a night scope. I'll set up and take out anything I see. I have five shots in the box. When I fire my last one, open up on the gate with that .50 and the AK. When they do that, hit the gate with grenades until there's no gate,” Beau said.

  He went forward about twenty yards and found a tree. Beau climbed up about fifteen feet. He chambered a round and fired. A sound like wet cement emanated from behind the fence. He fired again and again a body fell.

  “Take out that snip-” Beau's third shot dropped the talker. A .50 cal opened up in his direction but the fourth shot took out the gunner. A man ran over to take up the .50 cal and he was the fifth victim.

  Chet opened up with the vintage .50 cal and Haley joined him with the AK. They sprayed the gate and the area around it. Marcus then fired the grenade launcher. A huge “thwump” filled the air followed by an explosion as half of the gate disintegrated. The steady fire from Chet and Haley continued.

  A second “thwump” was followed by an explosion that took out the rest of the gate and a chuck of the fence. Beau had reloaded the Gepard and started dropping guards as they tried to flee. The automatic gunfire from Chet and Haley found targets as well. Bravo Team, now free joined in the firefight as they charged the wall and went over.

  Walker and the two men with him charged forward as well, firing as they went.

  Beau jumped up and ran to the Bronco and hopped. He drove toward the gate and stopped. He opened his door and yelled for Chet.

  “Let's go! They're on the run! We need to get to the house!” Beau yelled.

  The three of them ran for the SUV. A bullet whistled through and struck Marcus in his upper thigh. He went down in a heap. A S.W.A.T. team member dropped the gunman.

  Beau jumped out and ran to his friend.

  “How bad is it?” He asked.

  “I don't know but it hurts like hell,” he said grabbing his thigh.

  Beau grabbed him and dragged him behind a patrol car.

  “Call an ambulance. In fact, get all of them out here,” Chet said to Haley.

  “Stop the bleeding. Stay with him and keep him from going into shock,” Beau said.

  “Just go get the bad guys,” Marcus said through gritted teeth.

  Haley grabbed Beau's right hand.

  “You better come back to me,” she said.

  “Take care of him and I'll see you in a few minutes. I promise,” Beau said as he squeezed her hand.

  The gunfire was more sporadic as Beau picked up the grenade launcher. There were grenades left.

  “What are you going to do with that?” Chet asked as he got into the SUV.

  “Get their attention,” Beau said as he put the vehicle in gear and drove through the gate and straight up the lawn toward the mansion.

  ***

  The explosion must have drawn drew the attention of the guards because suddenly he was of no interest. Chuck simply entered through a side door and started up the hall. In the distance he could hear the gunfire and more explosions - they sounded like grenades.

  Throughout the house he could hear people running and shouting. The third floor. That's where Gene and his security chief/bodyguard were the last time he saw them.

  “You there!” A voice called from his left.

  Chuck turned and a stocky security man who looked to be about thirty with red hair and a red mustache, looked at him.

  “Upstairs! Second floor. The boss wants all available men in the house. We're making a kill zone. The higher they climb, the fewer there will be left to kill on the third floor,” the redheaded guard explained.

  “Right,” Chuck said as he ran to the stairs and up the steps.

  He looked as he went up the steps. Seven guards lined the interior balcony on the second floor. They were armed with AK-47s and wore bandoliers of ammo in X fashion across their torsos.

  Another guard yelled to him.

  “Take a position on the third floor at the far left. They only have three men up there right now,” said the guard, a slim black man with what sounded like a Jamaican accent.

  Chuck continued on to the third floor. Sure enough, three very frightened looking guards welcomed his presence. He took his position on the far left. Across the balcony he saw Cyprus with an AK-47. He also wore a shoulder holster that contained a semi-automatic handgun as well. He could hear bullets whistling below.

  The three men were focused on the action below and Cyprus ran into a room with Gene. Chuck raised the assault rifle and quickly shot each of the three. Head shots. He hated to kill but it was self-defense.

  Chuck headed for the room he saw Cyprus enter. Just before the got to the door, a raspy voice called from behind. He turned to a red faced and angry Dal Raven leaning forward in his wheelchair wheezing.

  “Take me to my son and his incompetent chief of security. They've really fucked up this time,” the old managed to get out between gasps of air.

  Chuck walked over to get behind the wheelchair when Cyprus walked out. When he the bolt-action rifle slung across the back of the man pushing the wheelchair, his lips skinned back against his broken teeth into a sick, scarec
row looking smile.

  Cyprus still had a flat dart remaining. He carefully pulled from the sleeve. The would-be assassin would never know what hit him. With the dart between his index and middle fingers he moved his hand forward expertly as he had done so many times before but this time was different. Just before the dart left his fingers an explosion rocked the floor below them.

  The dart sailed and connected - it struck Dal just above the left eye. Almost immediately the wheezing stooped as the limp body slumped forward and into the floor.

  Chuck looked up and saw Cyprus reaching for the handgun in his shoulder holster. He lunged at the security chief and drove him into the heavy hickory double doors. Cyprus saw stars as his broken ribs allowed him to experience new levels of pain.

  No longer reaching for the gun or caring about anything more than catching his breath, Cyprus went limp. Chuck pulled the handgun out of dazed man's shoulder holster with his right hand and tossed him into the balcony railing with his left hand. Chuck ejected the clip and the one in the chamber. He tossed the pistol to Cyprus, caught it instinctively, despite his agony.

  Still holding the pistol, he leaned on the balcony for support and saw the carnage below as the bodies of his men were scattered and few left were surrendering.

  “Drop it!” Yelled a voice from below.

  It was the big hillbilly who beat him so badly earlier. Cyprus, unable to draw enough air to answer, brought the gun around in the direction of the officer.

  ***

  When Beau and Chet literally rolled up the steps of the Raven Mansion, S.W.A.T. team members and a few deputies were closing in on the house. Chet grabbed the AK.

  “We need to talk about your toy collection,” he said as each braced themselves against the wall on each side of the double doors.

  “I built or modified most of them myself,” Beau said.

  “Oh yeah? You do the .50 cal?” Chet asked as he caught his breath.

  “Yeah. Made it out of spare parts,” Beau said.

  “And the grenade launcher?” Chet asked.

  “I bought that in West Germany back '89 and smuggled it back in with my gear,” Beau said.

  “I don't think that's legal,” Chet said.

  “Probably not,” Beau agreed.