by Paul Kirk
“I’ve had each man’s respect before that, Andy.” Terry bristled at his comment, anger evident.
“Sure, T. Yeah.”
“But?”
“But, now they know they can trust you to adapt and respond to a real combat situation. They know you can lead by letting others lead when it’s called for.”
“Umm...”
“I’m tellin’ you, T, that’s a critical asset to most of the combat vets here in the clan, since most are military trained and fully seasoned. And, trust me, these men know that, sometimes, the man with the serious juice in the situation isn't necessarily the leader of the pack. It happens. You know?”
“Hmm…”
“Intel or expertise can come from any angle, just like it did today. But, the team leader uses this, trusting the men under her command to do what’s right for the team.”
“Huh.”
“Trust with a capital T and no pun intended. And I’m telling ya, it’s just different than the killing of those interlopers like we usually have to do.”
“C’mon, Andy. You and your men are seriously fucked up.”
“I’ll take that as a yes that you understand what I was saying.”
Terry stole a sideways glance at Andy, before slipping an arm around his waist. The clan members were fast approaching. She spoke quickly.
“Yeah. I hear you. More importantly, I have a special assignment for you.”
“You do?”
“Yep, you’re to report to our bedroom in fifteen minutes. I’ll accept no excuses. And, if you don’t perform, I’ll fuckin’ kill you myself.”
Surprised at the intensity of her own words, Terry's face flushed. Not surprised, she noticed Andy’s easy grin in response.
“You can count on it, little woman.”
Andy slipped his hand gently across her buttocks. Then, he pinched her hard enough that she barely stopped a yelp in front of the arriving crew. Andy greeted Kevin and the clan members with a calming smile.
CHAPTER 6.9-A Ghost Disappears
“Ghost?”
“Yeah?”
“Sorry ‘bout this.”
With a blur of hands, Marty slipped the nine-inch blade into the young man’s heart and gently held him, as he lowered him to the ground. Extracting the blade and wiping it on the young man’s shirt, he turned to Amanda.
“Send the info in…now.”
Amanda stared at the dead young man and shivered, holding the radio limply in her hand, but her eyes were wide with inaction.
“Snuff?”
Amanda stood frozen near the window.
“Amanda!”
She jumped.
“Yeah?”
“Send. It. In.”
“Oh.”
Marty dragged Ghost to a dark corner, away from the windows. And, once the body was out of sight, Amanda recovered more quickly.
“Mac...Big Eye…you there? This is Snuff. You copy?”
“Copy, Snuff.”
She conveyed pertinent information, though her voice cracked near the end of her transmission.
“Excellent! Ahh...you okay, Snuff? Over.”
“Roger that.”
Marty approached with a gentle gimp, favoring his knee, gently taking the radio from her hands. But, before he was able to speak on the radio, Amanda wrapped her arms around him, groaning into his collar. Marty was caught off guard.
“Umm, sorry, Amanda. Killin’ him had to be done…you do know that, right?”
Nodding, she squeezed tighter and Marty caught the soft fragrance of her hair, before quickly placing her at arm’s length.
“I’m guessing you’ve not seen death so cold and up close before?”
Amanda stared at the floor. Gently, Marty tipped up her chin, seeing the sadness. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around her for a few more seconds, before releasing her once again.
“Umm…”
“Close blood killing takes some getting used to, Amanda.”
“I…”
“It’s not quite like scoping a target, you know?”
“He was just a kid.”
“Yeah. He was that. With a decently equipped rifle.” Marty forcibly ended the discussion, all business. “C’mon, let’s leave this trash. We have stuff to do.”
The radio crackled.
“Snuff? You copy.”
“Copy, it’s Surf Boy. What do you want to do based on the new intel? Over.”
“Suggestions, Surf Boy?”
“I’m running about eighty-five percent certain the president is over there with a pending surprise assault…over.”
“I’m comin’ in with the full team. We’re comin’ in hard. What’s best egress to position? Over.”
“West stairway. Keep tight. Come low and south first. Covert all the way. Over.”
“Roger that.”
“The building’s clear at the moment. Can’t guarantee for how much longer. Over.”
“Roger that.”
“Come as quick as you can. You have less than twenty minutes before a takedown of the Hall of Fame. Over”
“Understood. The enemy sniper?”
“Taken care of. Over.”
“Roger that. Out.”
CHAPTER 6.10-Full Alert
“Ma’am?”
“Yeah, Burroughs?”
“Major says that he’s ramping to full alert.”
“Details?”
“Rice caught some movement east of the perimeter suggesting unwarranted interest or activity.”
“Huh, unwarranted no less.”
Colonel Starkes smiled, pleased at Burroughs’ intensity.
“Tim says he might’ve caught some suspicious activity behind the building. A couple of men seemed like they were trying not to be seen and then acted like they were just out for a stroll when spotted.”
“Scout team dispatched?”
“In the process. Major wants you and…all the non-combatants ready for evac.”
“That right?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Shamus powering up?”
“Not yet, ma’am.”
Colonel Starkes took the time to sip her coffee, gently closing her book. In pajamas, she decided to change into fatigues based on the update. Burroughs waited for her response.
“Connor MacMillen has until tomorrow to show up, Burroughs. You know that.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She glanced at her watch.
“It is a quarter to midnight. We wait until 18:00 tomorrow unless you’re told otherwise. That’s an order.”
“Understood. Only precautionary at this point.”
“Send the major in at once.”
“Umm, the major said you’d say that.”
“Oh, he did, did he?”
“He said to tell you he’s prepping for emergency defense. For you to do the same.”
“Hmmm, what the hell’s happening Burroughs?”
“Just precautionary. We’re all on edge tonight, ‘specially Rice.”
“Why?”
“Ummm…”
“Burroughs?”
A clear, implicit edge carried her voice. Lieutenant Burroughs answered.
“Shamus is saying something about mathematical probabilities and fancy algorithms to the major.”
“Yeah?”
“And the major talked with the men.”
“Dammit, Burroughs! Talk some straight shit!”
“Yes, ma’am. With Rice’s sixth sense, things started going a bit screwy.”
“Screwy?”
“Yeah, it seems there’s an overall consensus something might happen before Connor MacMillen arrives is all...and, by all of Shamus’s probability analysis, yesterday or today’s the days we’re most vulnerable.”
“That right?”
"Yes, ma'am." Burroughs carefully scrutinized the wall beyond her, waiting for her further response.
“My orders are that we wait until tomorrow unless fired upon, understood?”
“I’ll let
the major know.”
“Do that.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
Angry, the colonel barked. “Dismissed.”
Burroughs sharply saluted, leaving as fast as he entered.
CHAPTER 6.12-A Need to Know
“This is Snuff. Do you copy?”
“Go ahead, Snuff. Over.”
“Surf Boy and I concur. You’re not gonna make it with the team in time. We need to alert...ah, POTUS about this attack right now. Over.”
“We’re fifteen minutes out. Over.”
“We think it's gonna go down now, over.”
“What tactical suggestions can you make, over?”
“Surf Boy’s limited to overwatch…I think. Any forward action’s on me…over.”
“We’ll be there in less than ten. Over.”
“The takedown is happening right now, Mac! They’re sitting ducks.”
“Put Surf Boy on. Over.”
“Mac?”
“Put Surf Boy on. Over.”
Abruptly, Amanda shoved the radio to Marty. Staring into her eyes, he caught the intense flow of emotions slip across her face. She was pissed. He raised the radio.
“Surf Boy here. Over.”
“Copy that. Your functional status? Over.”
“I’ll do what needs to be done.”
“Clarification. Would you, as team lead, send you, yourself running hard in through hostile fire given the current condition of the knee injury? Over.”
“Our options are limited otherwise, sir. Over.”
“If required, could Snuff do it? Over.”
Marty glanced at Amanda. Her stare was intense, waiting for his response. The grim smile on her lips dared him to answer in the negative.
“I know you trust Snuff, I do too, sir. Do I think Snuff’s capable? Yeah. Does Snuff have the assault experience? No. Plus, there's the other…lady issue. I’ll go. Snuff runs cover. Over.”
“Assume Snuff was part of your squad, given current mission status. Over.”
“Define the mission parameters. Over.”
“A full out run through live fire to alert POTUS. Preferably, with some substantial element of surprise. Over.”
Marty studied Amanda objectively. With a critical eye, seeing her this way, he was glad she was part of their team. Grudgingly, he raised the radio.
“Though I admit to some mild surprise in performing this mental exercise right now, Snuff’s more than capable based on those mission objectives and what I’ve seen in her actions. Over.”
“Hold for sixty seconds. Over.”
“Roger that. Holding for sixty.”
Connor rested the radio on his thigh and turned to McLeod. “Talk to me, John. Your thoughts?”
“Marty’s out of commission?”
“Nah, he’d do it come hell or high water, it’s just that for him to alert me to his knee injury in the first place tells me he must be pretty messed up by it.”
“So that leaves Amanda if we can’t arrive in time?”
“They’re pretty clear we’re a bit short on that timeframe.”
“She’s pregnant, Mac.”
“Oh? I hadn’t noticed...John.”
“She’s…not trained like you or Marty or BB, or Roger or Jackson for that matter.”
“You’re correct. But, I want your opinion, John. Give it or go home.”
Resting for the moment behind an old Fed Ex truck and catching their breath, the team waited for the signal to move forward. Thinking furiously, John stared at the Fed Ex logo. Reaching a decision, he turned to Connor.
“Talk it through with her, Mac. You know her capabilities better than any of us. She’s it if it’s feasible.”
Connor raised the radio to his lips.
“Surf Boy. Do you copy?”
“Go.”
“Put Snuff on, over.”
“Mac?” said Amanda.
“How would you two do it? Over.”
Amanda stared at Marty, excitement and determination in her eyes. Marty dipped his head in understanding. But, he was angry at having to place this woman in harm’s way when he was most certainly the man for the job. He rubbed his knee and felt the substantial increase pain. He hoped there was no tear, but it sure hurt like hell at the moment. Amanda raised the radio to her lips.
“I’ll slide into the front doors while Surf Boy takes out the RPGs and creates a diversion? Over.”
“Negative. Too risky. Over.”
“They’re starting this assault soon! POTUS’s a sitting duck. Over.”
“Probably not based on the expertise of her support team from what you’ve told me, but I hear what you’re saying. Over.”
“So you agree? Over.”
“The surprise factor building up against her might be deadly. Over.”
“So you agree? Over.”
“Hell no! But, I see your reasoning.”
“I’m going in. Over.”
Near a small office building, a bit closer but still about eight minutes out from the warehouse, Connor and John crouched behind a rusted Cadillac with the rest of the team spread out behind, taking cover. Connor had a good visual of the warehouse where Snuff and Surf Boy were hiding about 500 yards out. He reached for the radio.
“Hold.”
“What?” asked Amanda.
“I said hold for a sec, Snuff. Over.”
“Roger that.”
Connor turned to McLeod.
“Final thoughts?”
“I guess it depends on what you want out of this shit pie,” said McLeod.
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, do you plan to save this President Starkes or keep on due course east?”
“She’s sat waiting for at least two or three weeks by your count, right?”
“Yep.”
“Marty’s at about eighty percent functional and POTUS would be the only remaining form of official government existing right now.”
“Far as I know.”
“Seems POTUS is invested heavily in locating me this past year.”
“Ah huh.”
“And, Nicole might be with them.”
“Highly probable.”
“And, she’s…there might be…uh, a baby, too.”
“Definitely a possibility based on our factor analysis, Mac.”
“Shit!”
“Yep.”
McLeod’s muted smile was infuriating. He was in surprisingly good shape and was barely breathing hard after their last run. After a silent few seconds, he made a suggestion.
“You might consider having Surf Boy fire a round at POTUS and the rooftop guards. That’d alert them to the assault.”
“True, but they’d not know the full extent of the assault and might try to fight it off. And, in firing off that round, that’d alert the entire hostile force to converge onto the warehouse for some special killing that I don’t want to see happening. Based on the current intel, POTUS needs to seriously bug out.”
“Good point.”
Connor clicked the radio.
“Snuff? Do you copy?”
“Copy.”
“The president needs to bug out clean first chance. Over.”
“Understood. Roger that.”
“Do it, Amanda. Do it right. Or, don’t do it at all…”
Amanda smiled at the familiar expression; it caused a bull rush of feelings. Warmly, it reminded her of the first few times she’d shared a sleeping bag with Connor. She recalled the first time he said those same words to her; she was tired and scared that day. Sure, she’d made it clear she was willing, appreciative of his intervention after her predicament with those Kansas assholes and his gentle care and food in the week thereafter. However, Connor had simply slipped under the covers and held her softly in his encompassing embrace. He had no plans other than to keep her warm on that cold night, if that was what she wanted. She snuggled up against him suggesting more to offer.
“You do it right, Amanda. Or, you don’t do it at all.”
<
br /> Amanda remembered hearing those words before she drifted off into a sound sleep that night. She held the radio in her hand, raising it to her lips.
“Roger that, and…ahh, thanks for your vote of confidence. Over.”
“You’ll always have it. The confidence is real. Over.”
“Roger that. I’m going in two. Surf Boy on the comm.”
Amanda gently tossed both radio and binoculars to Marty. Antsy, she moved toward the stairway.
“Amanda, wait.”
“Yeah?”
“Tac update: I’ll take out the guy with the RPG hanging near the planter on the left side and as many others as I can before they catch on.”
“Ok.”
“When that first man goes down west side of the building, you sprint serious for the front doors like the Goody Bar man’s rounding the corner. I’ll try to keep you safe and hit my marks in this shitstorm.”
“Goody Bar man?”
“You're kidding me? You have no idea who the Goody Bar man is? Never mind. Just haul some ass.”
“Okay. Sure...thanks.”
“You know, you’ll be on your own out there on this.”
“I know. But, you got my back.”
They stared at each other, strange emotions tumbling. Marty kept it all business and considered the endgame in greater detail. “How are we pulling off your extraction, Amanda?”
“I dunno. I’m hoping there’s no need.”
“No need?”
“I hope we extract the president out safely and me with her.”
“Huh. My tactical sense says that’s very low percentage. At least not with any level of concern for your safety. Too many men out there to suppress.”
“Yeah, probably.”
“Those bad guys are gonna breach the Hall of Fame.”
“I agree.”
“Maybe we can slow ‘em down some, you and I, but we’re not gonna stop the assault. Seems too well-coordinated.”
“Okay, okay, you’re probably right.”
Amanda felt a sudden and deep surge of affection for Marty. Finding it difficult to handle, she quickly pushed down the emotions; Marty continued his tactical analysis.
“Let's do this right. Once you’re in position behind that concrete planter with the oak tree, I’ll take my first shot. You’ll have forty yards of hard running to enter those doors. Probably five or six seconds of full exposure to enemy fire.”
“Hey, I can run a forty faster than that!”