Chapter Seventy-One
"Alright, boyos," Declan said, as he entered the kitchen from the garage, having finally been able to calm himself down after the events of the last few hours. "What do we have?"
Osman and Nazari had spread a map across the granite countertop of the center island and had turned on a laptop computer, which Nazari was typing away at.
"Victoria, Virginia is here," Nazari said, as he reached over and circled a town with a red sharpie. "Dundalk, Maryland is here, and we are here." He circled two more towns and Declan looked at each of them in turn.
"That could give us some advantage," Osman said, looking at the location of Dundalk on the map, just southwest of Baltimore. The three circles formed an obtuse triangle with the location of Baktayev's base being the furthest away.
"Yeah," Nazari said, “but if it's as the senator said, than Baktayev's already gone from there. For all we know he's already set up in the school and waiting for tomorrow morning when everyone arrives."
"I can make a call," Osman said. "There's a few 'diplomats' from our Washington embassy that could go and have a look at this Broughman's Welding Service. That way we'll know whether there's anyone there and if there ever was. I don't trust this scumbag upstairs to have been telling us the truth."
"He was," Declan said. "The only thing he fears worse than losing his power, is losing his two boys."
"Then you think that bit about it not being his idea was the truth?"
Declan nodded. "He got extremely stressed at that point in our conversation so either he really believes it or else it was a poorly prepared attempt at shifting the blame. Hard to tell which, but it's irrelevant. What we have to focus on is stopping Baktayev."
"Still, it won't hurt for someone to take a look at Dundalk. Maybe they can give us some kind of an idea what kind of preparation these guys were doing."
"Aye, that could be useful. We need information on the town of Victoria. There has to be some reason they've chosen that as their target."
"The Wikipedia entry for it basically indicates that it's a pretty impoverished town," Nazari said, as he turned back to the laptop computer. "Not much in the way of employment and I found several news articles about some serious drug issues in the area."
"That explains a lot," Declan said.
"The school itself, W.N. Page Junior High, is the oldest of three schools in the area. Here's a picture." Nazari turned the computer around so that Declan and Osman could see it.
"That explains even more," Declan said, as he looked at the picture of the single story, industrial-era building, with its rectangular architecture and narrow, metal rimmed windows. "They're using the same basic plan they did at Beslan in 2004. That school was the oldest in the area as well. Can you bring up an aerial view from Google Maps?"
Nazari turned the computer around and went to work. "Here," he said, turning it back around.
"Just like I thought. Look at the way the building is spread out in all of those weird angles," Declan said, pointing at several locations on the image. "Just like Beslan, the building's a tactical nightmare. Only two driveway entrances, both easily covered from the building. It's on a large open lot surrounded by trees, all of which is easily covered from multiple points in the building. Even the places across the street are mostly forest and wouldn't provide any kind of a decent operations point. The police would have to set up somewhere a good distance from the school and wouldn't have any line of sight."
"Looks like some residences there," Osman said, pointing to a few small buildings across the street that had some open ground around them. "There's some tree cover, too, the police could set up SWAT teams there in case of an emergency raid."
"I don't think so," Declan said. "Get me a street view."
Nazari reached over and punched a few buttons.
"See there?" Declan continued, as the screen changed to the street view. "With the building on that kind of an incline and all of those windows facing the road anyone crossing that street would be doing so under heavy fire. It'd be a massacre."
"So he's planned this well in advance," Nazari said.
"Aye, this isn't just about killing innocent people. It's about making a statement while killing innocent people. Baktayev learned some lessons from Beslan. The poverty and drug problems in the area likely mean low parental involvement. There'll be a lot of children arriving on the buses and few being dropped off by a parent who might notice something out of the ordinary. That, coupled with the likelihood that there's very little police presence in such a small, out of the way town, means Baktayev won't have any trouble gaining control of the building and its occupants. Once he's inside and he has his hostages he doesn't have any intention of anyone leaving alive. He'll take as many emergency responders with him as possible, too."
"So how do we stop this guy?" Osman asked. "'There's just the three of us. The other men who have helped us this far are spies, not warriors. They won't be much good to us in a fight. We have Kemiss's confession. That's what we came here for. Why do we need to go any further?"
Declan glanced between Osman and Nazari. He could see doubt on both men's faces and he understood it. What they were about to do could get them all killed.
"Look, Os," he said, "I know how you feel. Taking on a team of heavily armed terrorists isn't my idea of fun, either, but there's no one else to do it. What would Abe want us to do? He wouldn't stand by and let this happen. He'd do everything in his power to stop it, and you know that."
Osman ceded the point with a nod. "No argument there, but why does this have to involve us marching up to these guys and calling them sissies? Call in a bomb threat. Get school cancelled for the day and it's finished."
"I wish it was that simple. Although in the end it may be. We're not planning on any lengthy assaults here," Declan said. "Baktayev's entire plan rests on the element of surprise. Without it he's got nothing. He can't afford a long, protracted gunfight to take control of the school. Once attention is brought to his presence, he'll be forced to run. But we can't risk him having a backup target either, another school within driving distance or even a church daycare center or something, so we've got one chance at stopping him and it's got to count."
Osman nodded slowly. "Alright, alright, I'm in."
"Grand. Let's look at the big picture. We've got to try and figure out where they're going to be coming from."
Nazari moved around to the other side of the kitchen island and used the wireless mouse to zoom the satellite image out. "The main highway leading through the town goes right past the school."
"Aye, but I don't think they'll use that. The presence of any vehicles on the property overnight could attract a police patrol and in the morning the administration would know something wasn't right. Baktayev will be looking for a way to enter the property without anyone knowing."
"There," Osman said, pointing at a dead end road northwest of the school. "Zoom in on that."
Nazari clicked the mouse several times and the screen zoomed in on a road that ended in a parking lot and a cluster of buildings.
"Looks like some kind of apartments or townhouses," Declan said, shaking his head. "Too risky."
Nazari moved the view out again.
"What's that there?" Declan said, as he noticed a thin gray line that ran through the forest behind the school's property.
"Tobacco Heritage Trail," Nazari said, as he read the label that became visible as he zoomed in on the location.
"Is it a road?"
"I don't think so," Nazari said. "It looks too narrow to me." He clicked over to a different tab on the internet browser and typed the name into Wikipedia. "Nothing here." He clicked over to another tab and typed the name into the Google search engine. An official website came up at the top of the search results. "The Tobacco Heritage Trail is a system of long distance, multi-use, non-motorized trails following abandoned rail corridors throughout Southside Virginia," he read.
Declan looked over the pictures on the website a
s Nazari scrolled through it. The so-called trail was nearly as wide as a road and covered with gravel. "That's it," he said. "It's gotta be. And that road there, just east of the school, that's how they'll enter the trail. Look at it, no nearby houses and completely wooded. They'll pull their vehicles far enough down the trail to keep them hidden and they'll enter the school from the back. No one will even know they're there until it's too late. They could go back and forth from the vehicles all night carrying in whatever they want and no one would notice. By morning they'll have the entire place wired and booby trapped. They'll take control one person at a time as they enter."
"Twin Cemetery Road," Osman said, as he leaned in for a closer look at the road Declan was pointing at. "Let's go get 'em."
Chapter Seventy-Two
10:54 p.m. Eastern Time – Sunday
Eleven miles outside of Victoria
Lunenburg County, Virginia
"They're out of there and aren't planning on coming back from the looks of it," Osman said, as he ended a call on his cell phone. "Looks like they've been living there, according to the guys I asked to have a look. They found sleeping arrangements in the building for at least twenty, and evidence of homemade explosives."
The black Ford Explorer bounced over a set of dormant railroad tracks as Nazari guided it over the antiquated pavement of a two lane country road, passing tall trees and flat, empty fields on either side. The view was occasionally broken up by the sudden appearance of dilapidated residences that looked as though they had been there longer than the road itself. Even in the darkness of night, the poverty of the area they were heading into was evident.
"They found three bodies in the rear lot of the building, too, stacked up in a storage container."
"That might explain why the police haven't found any bodies to back up my experiences. Baktayev's been taking his dead home with him," Declan said from the back seat. "Any clue as to what kind of arms they're carrying?"
Osman shook his head. "They found spent rounds in a few different calibers, but no weapons. Whatever was there, they've got it all with them."
"Could they tell how long they've been gone?" Nazari asked.
"It can't have been that long," Osman said with a grimace. "They found a young man chained up in a bathroom with his tongue cut out. He was still alive so they can't have been gone very long. It looked from the tire tracks in the muddy lot like they left in two fairly large vehicles, possibly vans or SUVs of some kind. There were multiple sets of tracks laid down over the last few days, so it was impossible to tell when they left for sure."
"They were driving dark red Suburbans when they attacked Kafni and Levitt and they had a white cargo van when they attacked Castellano and me," Declan said. "It could be the same vehicles."
Nazari slowed the vehicle as they rounded a bend in the road and came to a stop sign. Without coming to a complete stop, he looked left and continued driving to the right.
"What's that?" Osman asked, as he craned his neck and looked at a collection of green-roofed, concrete buildings behind several tall fences. Search lights passed over the property from tall towers along the fence.
"A prison," Declan said, as the compound passed out of sight. "It's one of the only major employers in the area."
"Remind me not to put Victoria down as a retirement destination," Osman quipped.
A mile down the road the dark fields began to blend into the lots of more impoverished residences. Stately brick homes that looked to have once belonged to wealthier families in the town's industry-oriented past were cramped between mobile homes and hastily constructed single story dwellings, all with overgrown lawns and vandalized automobiles.
"Charming place," Declan said, as they moved onto the town's main street, where businesses sat boarded up on the bottom floor of two and three story brick storefronts. Outside of one small place a street light flickered and people gathered under it, smoking, in front of what appeared to be a bar.
"We're getting close," Nazari said, looking at the GPS suction-cupped to the windshield. "I call the H&K."
Declan turned and reached over the back seat, grabbing the H&K MP-7 machine pistol from underneath a blanket. "The AR's mine," he said, as he pushed a forty-round magazine into the H&K and handed it forward to Osman, who placed it in Nazari's lap.
"That leaves me on shotgun," Osman said.
"We need to take everything we can with us," Declan said. "Once we're in this there isn't going to be any running to the truck for more ammo. If we're out, we're dead." He handed a Mossberg 590 tactical shotgun with a pistol grip and a box of sabot slugs over the seat to Osman.
"Move past it to the second entrance," he continued, as Nazari began to slow down, the school approaching on their right hand side as they cleared the town. "Nice and casual, if they're in there waiting, I want them to think we're just some wee chancers out for a kiss and a cuddle."
Nazari drove the SUV slowly past the first pitted concrete driveway, a darkened single story building looming above them on the steep incline. Clumps of uncut grass stuck up throughout the sloped front yard giving the place an unkempt appearance. Dingy streetlights illuminated broken glass and barred windows, more evidence of the area's intense poverty, on the front of the building as they reached the second entrance and continued on.
"From the looks of that place you'd think it was abandoned," Osman said.
"Aye, rough place to be a kid, I'm betting."
Declan hadn't seen any evidence outside that anyone was in the building or even nearby. Several of the doors that had been visible looked like they might have been pried opened at some point, but it was hard to tell for sure with the amount of vandalism. "Let's find this Twin Cemetery Road," he said. "If we're the first ones here, I don't want any evidence of it. I want Baktayev to think it's smooth sailing."
Nazari drove three quarters of a mile and made a right. The road looped around past several neighborhoods, empty fields and thick patches of trees. After nearly a mile the residences were gone and only field and forest surrounded them. As the road curved back towards the school, the headlights washed over a roughly maintained cemetery that sat on both sides of the two lane road, a narrow dirt lane just past a rusted wrought iron fence on the right. Nazari slowed the vehicle to a stop. "Twin Cemetery Road," he said, looking at the crooked sign on the corner of the street.
"Right then," Declan said, as Nazari pulled the SUV to the side of the road under some overhanging tree limbs and cut the lights off. He pushed a thirty-round magazine into an AR-15, charged the rifle and extended the stock. "I'm on point," he said, as he pushed open the door and stepped out. "Nazari, you're behind me and Osman, on the rear. Ten paces apart until we know we're alone."
Chapter Seventy-Three
11:06 p.m. Eastern Time – Sunday
W.N. Pace Junior High School
Victoria, Virginia
Ruslan Baktayev held up a hand signaling the sixteen men behind and around him to stop. He held his head high in the light breeze for a moment as the trees rustled slightly around them. Battle was coming. He could feel it in the air and it energized every fiber of his being. He had lived for this moment and only this moment for a week now. His enemies were dead and even the last attempt, the last gasp of the Americans, had fallen before him with the defeat of the punk kid who had dared to challenge him. Sharpuddin, he thought as he scowled and spat.
With their vehicles well hidden along an old railroad bed, now a hiking trail, that ran through the woods behind the school, everything had gone as planned. They had arrived in Victoria with plenty of time to spare and would be firmly entrenched by the time the faculty began to arrive shortly after dawn. First, they would take each of the teachers and administrators as they arrived, forcing them to conduct business as usual while unloading the school buses that were scheduled to begin arriving at exactly 8:15 a.m. None of the few parents who dropped their children off at the front doors would think anything was out of place as Anzor Kasparov greeted them and ushere
d the children into the building. He had been doing that same thing as the facility's custodian for years.
Headlights washed over the trees momentarily and Baktayev turned around, focusing as his men each sank to one knee. Three car doors closed quickly but quietly as they watched, Kalashnikov rifles held across their chests and at the ready. Dressed in jungle fatigues and military boots, the men blended into the dense green forest at the edges of the school's property. Even their heads were covered in camouflage dew rags, with the exception of the few, including Baktayev, who had chosen instead to wear their black Islamic taqiyahs. After all, this was a mission of God and they were his soldiers.
Slowly, Baktayev wrapped the shoulder strap of his AK-47 around his hand and brought the rifle up into position as three men approached, each of them obviously armed. Waiting until the men were in the midst of his squad, he stood suddenly and barked an order in his native tongue, his men following his lead and standing with him.
Triumphant growls sounded as the three newcomers dropped their guns and held their hands up high in the air. Baktayev smiled as he looked at the blood on their clothes. "It is done, then?"
The nearest of the three men smiled and nodded. "It is done."
The three men had left separately from the rest of the group in a smaller vehicle and had been dispatched to the home of the town's school resource officer who would be the quickest link the school would have to the local police. Now the man, and his family as well, were in no condition to respond to anything. They were dead. With the officer not expected at his post until the start of the school day, it would be hours before anyone noticed he was missing and by then it would be too late.
Black Ops Bundle: Volume One Page 44