The C4 cracked its sudden ignition and the explosion rocked the gate. Fragments of chain spun through the air, some landing close to the Dodge Ram. The man nodded his satisfaction and returned to the gate. He lifted the now scrap metal and pushed it open, far enough to permit the vehicles to drive through. As the lead vehicle moved forward, he opened the passenger door and swung himself back into the front passenger seat.
“Well done, Jay,” remarked Payne, the driver.
Jay acknowledged the militia leader’s praise with a hand gesture. He had gained substantial experience in managing and setting explosives as a result of his service in Afghanistan, and now utilized his knowledge for a different calling. And for better money.
The lead vehicle was two hundred yards into the property when the front tire blew. The Dodge swerved to the left and hit the bank of snow along the side of the lane. The second tire blew moments after the vehicle stopped.
“We’re under fire,” shouted Jay, not hiding his surprise. Their briefing had not indicated the possibility of encountering any serious opposition.
He had hardly completed his comment when the rear end of the Dodge was hit by the following vehicle, its driver caught by the unexpected stop of the lead vehicle. Jay heard more shots and assumed the tires of that vehicle had also been shredded by weapon fire. He looked back. The SUV had swerved the other way, hitting the opposite snow bank. He and the other two men in the Dodge jumped out, taking their firearms. He heard more shots and when he checked, he saw the following vehicles also had flat tires; as far as he could tell, the shooter had destroyed the two front tires of each vehicle.
The Dodge’s windshield exploded and Jay heard other bullets hitting the front of the vehicle. A cloud of steam indicated the radiator had been holed. Payne cursed, removed his black Stetson, threw it onto the road, and jumped on it repeatedly. Jay was impressed by the man’s command of invective.
“I purchased this damn vehicle only six months ago. I still have payments to make on it.” Payne cursed again.
Jay realized the shooter was targeting the second vehicle once the driver and passengers had exited. With a measured momentum the shooter meticulously destroyed the three remaining vehicles.
“Where is he? Where’s the shooter?” asked Bro, their sniper. He was younger than either Jay or Payne, although he too had done a tour of duty in Afghanistan.
“No damned idea,” said Jay. He was sheltering behind the partial protection of the passenger side door. He knew the thin metal would be ineffective if the shooter selected him as the next target; it was more his subconscious reaction to a psychological need to seek safety, even if it was only apparent. “We’ve been suckered into this. Five vehicles immobilized in less than five minutes. He’s good, whoever he is.”
Some of the men, now out of their vehicles, were returning fire in the direction of the farmhouse. It was a stone building and Jay doubted their random shots would do any significant damage. He motioned to Payne, indicating the lane in front of them. “We should move closer. We can’t do anything hiding here.”
“It’s clear space. We’ll be sitting ducks,” Payne protested.
Jay shrugged. “What do you think we are, standing here? Besides, the shooter hasn’t hit anyone so far. He’s targeting the vehicles, not people.”
“He’s encouraging us to leave,” Bro said. “On foot.”
Payne cursed again. He reached into the Dodge Ram for his CB radio. “Okay, listen up. The shooter’s sending a message we should leave, but we only get paid if we complete the job. What do you all think?”
There was a confusion of replies. Most seemed to deride the shooter and his ability to hit targets that would shoot back. Jay wasn’t so sure; the man had demonstrated a precision which spoke of experience. Another driver said one of his men had been hit in the arm by a ricochet, but the wound, now bandaged, was not life threatening.
Payne said, “Shoot out all the front windows of the house. We’ll move forward.”
Bro grabbed Jay’s arm with sudden excitement. “Look, look! The gunfire’s coming from those two barns. There must be two shooters. See, there’s some reinforcement and protection around where the barrels are, on the roof.”
Jay was impressed with the sniper’s visual acuity. The buildings were a hundred yards away and the small snipers’ nests were well disguised.
Bro began to return fire. He was good, thought Jay, as he watched while his companion fired three shots at each location. Jay observed the bullet impact points. Some of the other men began to follow Bro’s example and soon seven or eight of his companions were returning fire as they moved toward the house. The unseen shooters weren’t deterred; they fired more shots at the vehicles and Jay heard a whoosh as a gas tank exploded, followed by a second tank. Two men cursed.
Bro worked it out. “Hey,” he shouted to Payne. “They can’t cover the front of the house from those positions. If we move up closer, we’ll be protected.”
Jay watched as Payne considered his man’s suggestion. Bro had moved forward fifty yards and was covering three other men as they leap-frogged ahead, firing at each of the apparent shooter locations in turn. Three others began firing in support of Bro, to protect those men who were moving ahead. At last most of the men were in a shadow zone, protected by the farmhouse from the two shooters atop the barns.
Payne said, “Jay, I want you to target the house. When it’s ablaze, we’ll set fire to the barns. We need to get these people out into the open.”
Jay reached into his backpack and extracted a grenade. He shouted a warning and everyone dropped to the ground. Jay pulled the pin and tossed the grenade through a window, now almost glassless from gunshots. His aim was true and the small device sailed all the way into the room through the broken window. He counted the seconds. Smoke and flames followed the explosion.
“Good one,” said Payne. “Lob a second one at the far window.”
Jay’s aim was just as precise with the subsequent grenades. Within minutes flames leapt up and smoke poured from the windows. There was a wave of heat as something inside the house, possibly a gas tank, ignited. Three of the men moved away from the house, inadvertently moving out of its protective shadow. Jay heard a shot and screams and turned to look. One of the drivers had been shot and his two passengers raced to assist him. There were two more shots and the would-be rescuers also fell, screaming.
Jay thought the shooter was using a .50-caliber weapon and knew bullets of that caliber would cause horrendous injuries. The three victims were alive, although in extreme pain. They were shouting for assistance as they clutched their legs. The shooters are smart, he thought. They knew their attackers would be distracted by the screams. Jay took another grenade and threw it through an upper window. He repeated the process three times and at last both floors were in flames. While the smoke was helping to cover them, it was also causing breathing difficulties. One of the still-standing militia, caught in a particularly heavy acrid cloud, began coughing and tried to get to clearer air. He fell, shot in the leg, screaming.
A section of the upper floor collapsed and the wave of heat forced another militia member back; he, too, fell to the marksman, screaming and clutching his leg. The team had now incurred six injuries, and Jay was unsure whether anyone inside has been hurt or killed. This is a losing game, he thought.
Payne heard the siren first and he said to Jay, “Damn, we’ll have fire engines and law enforcement here in no time and we can’t get away, either. At least we’ve completed most of our assignment, don’t you think?”
Jay cursed. He’d been so focused on destroying the house and distracted by the screams that he had entirely overlooked the probable arrival of emergency services or police. This part of the country was far too heavily populated. Back home in Texas, it would have taken an hour or more for a fire engine to respond to a call from a remote location. He sighed.
Bro said, “How about we take them out?”
Jay snarled. “And what, flee on a fucki
n’ fire truck? Don’t even think about it.”
The truck was about to enter through the gateway, which he had cleared earlier, and an ambulance followed. Police cars were behind the ambulance, lights flashing.
“Payne,” Jay said, “tell the men to drop their weapons. Otherwise we’ll be caught in a firefight with the police.”
~~~
Lieutenant Harkness was in the lead vehicle. This property and anything happening here was on his hit list. He was sure this place would haunt him for the rest of his days. He had not before experienced anything like this crime scene. He supervised as his officers handcuffed the uninjured men who had their arms raised in surrender. While this was in progress, an SUV arrived and two men alighted from the vehicle and introduced themselves.
“I’m Agent Fresner, Theo Fresner. This is Janice Mortimer.” The agent held out his FBI ID.
Harkness looked at it briefly and shook each agent’s hand. He said, “Peter Harkness and this is David Leary.”
Fresner said, “I’m normally in Boston but I’ve been doing some work in Concord, so I was allocated to respond. One of our crime teams is heading here from the Boston office. It’ll be an hour or so, before it get here.”
“What do you think?” Harness indicated the still burning house and barns where the fire fighters were working to control the fires.
Fresner looked up and searched the sky for a second or two. A drone was circling a hundred feet or so above his head and he pointed it out to Harkness. “This helps. The property is under observation all the time. I received a video file on the way here, from one of our ex-agents. We’ve both worked with him on a number of assignments before he retired and can vouch for him. He provided what seems to be a very comprehensive set of video files. While I haven’t viewed them all, he included a summary file that covers key points. I expect the videos contain enough close ups to confirm the activities of these guys,” he indicated the group of men under police guard. “It seems they had a mission to destroy and probably even kill, I’ve no doubt about that.” He produced his cell phone. “Watch this, it’s the summary video.” Fresner started the video and handed his cell phone to the police lieutenant.
Harkness and Leary watched, not hiding their surprise as the details unfolded. “It’s almost unbelievable,” Harkness said when the video ended. He handed back Fresner’s cell phone.
“We had a similar reaction, at first,” the FBI agent said. “I’ll send you a copy of the file. Fortunately the house occupants were away—I believe they’re in Europe and the housekeeper and her husband are on vacation.”
Leary said, “So these guys attacked an empty house? I wonder if they knew that?”
“We’ll find out. If you don’t mind, we’ll take over. We’re intending to process this as a terrorist act.”
“That’ll be a pleasure. Can you handle these men by yourselves?” Harkness asked.
“We’ll need some assistance from you until our crime team arrives.”
“No argument there. My only question is how the hell did Midway shoot these people if he’s currently in Europe?” Harkness said.
Fresner asked, “You were here when Bravo Company landed?”
“Oh, yeah,” Harkness said. “You know about that? I can tell you, that day is seared into my soul.”
“I understand the 145th was testing some advanced equipment. Same for the shootings here today—test equipment.”
“They have some effective test equipment,” murmured Leary.
Fresner and Harkness watched as the firemen dealt with the fires—the buildings were still ablaze. The uninjured men had been searched for weapons and were all handcuffed. The ambulance crew had requested another two vehicles to assist with the injured men.
The lead responder briefed Fresner and Harkness. “These guys have some very serious injuries. One of your prisoners said he thought the weapons firing at them were .50-caliber and I think he’s correct. I’ve treated this kind of injury in Afghanistan. Whoever was defending this property didn’t pull any punches.”
Harkness said, “I’m sure they’ve now learned not to mess with the people here.”
***
Chapter 17
Mark returned to his room. They were leaving the hotel later in the afternoon and he wanted to send Schmidt a message updating him about the genetically engineered teenagers. He also had a message to call Goodwin and he decided to do that first.
“Detective Inspector? Mark.”
“Good. I wanted to update you. Your three intruders are—or at least were—Immigration and Customs Enforcement, ICE, part of Homeland Security. They were operating well outside their jurisdiction. They’ve been disowned and thrown to the wolves. Their presence in your room was apparently part of some unauthorized venture. I’ve some leverage to discover what their plan was. I’ll let you know as soon as I find out more.”
“I don’t understand why, or who—”
“That’s what I wanted to check. You’ve had prior contact with these people?”
“No, never, nothing with ICE or DHS. I’ve had an encounter with the CIA, a year ago or more, when my parents’ lab was attacked.”
“Yes—I recall a Cerberus US brief on that attack. Hmm. I’ll see what I can discover.”
“Thanks. Oh, we’re heading to your safe house. We’ll leave here late this afternoon.”
“Good. I’ll be happier when you move. We can provide better protection there. What about the people Reb wanted to meet with?”
Mark had assumed the DI had been kept informed by his Cerberus escort. He provided a synopsis. “We had a good discussion. I think they’re interested in what we can offer. Reb is going to call them after we get to the safe house, to check if they have any questions. It might take a day or two before we have a decision.”
“Keep me updated. I can arrange for a Cerberus guard for them, if you think it’s necessary?”
“I’ll see what Reb thinks. They’re probably all resourceful, anyway.”
Goodwin concluded the call and as Mark replaced the hotel phone, his laptop sounded an alarm, an alert from the farmhouse security system in New Hampshire. He clicked the flashing red light symbol on the screen. The sound stopped. He opened the image feed and within seconds was watching a split screen video from the two drones circling the property. He selected the feed from the camera closer to the front gate. A line of five vehicles, two trucks and three SUVs, had halted in the road leading to the gate. It was early morning, about five minutes after six a.m. on the East Coast. Mark clicked on the small plus sign on the software to see an enlarged view. A man in military style clothing was working at the gate. He walked to the first vehicle and moments later Mark saw the flare of an explosion at the gate. The man returned to the gate and pushed it open. As the lead vehicle drove through, the man swung himself aboard. The other vehicles followed, accelerating toward the farmhouse.
Mark wondered if this was an attack by either the Chinese or the CIA. The vehicles were unmarked so he assumed it was not a police raid. He was confident it was not Cerberus. Another possibility was the Russians. He watched as the drone followed the vehicles.
He activated both Cutter weapon systems. These intruders had destroyed his front gate and presumably planned the same for his home. He decided it would be lawful for him to prevent their incursion; at least, that was a risk he was prepared to take. He targeted the lead vehicle’s front wheels and fired two shots. The vehicle shuddered to a stop as its tires burst and it slipped sideways, into the snow mound on the side of the lane. The following vehicle clipped the leading vehicle’s rear and it spun into the ice and snow on the other side. Mark fired again, targeting the tires of the second vehicle now stalled in the snowbank. Men jumped from both vehicles and, sheltering behind their vehicles, commenced firing at the farmhouse. The other three vehicles had stopped about fifty yards behind the two lead vehicles. Mark targeted each vehicle in turn until all five had flat tires. He focused the targeting system back at the first vehi
cle and fired more shots, blowing in the windshield, penetrating the radiator, and hopefully damaging the engine. He repeated the process for each vehicle. Each time one of the drone cameras focused on a face, Mark extracted a still image and forwarded it to Maeve’s analysts.
The men on the ground destroyed the front windows of the house with their weapon fire, probably thinking the building was occupied. Mark realized they had discovered the source of defensive fire when they started to target the protected areas on top of the barns.
One man moved closer to the house until he was out of sight of the targeting cameras. Mark adjusted the drones and watched as the man signaled his companions. They all followed his lead and Mark counted fifteen men in total, moving closer to the house. Mark continued to pepper the SUVs, firing at those in the rear, and two burst into flames. He was confident he had damaged all the vehicles and they now were out of commission. At least the intruders wouldn’t be able to use their vehicles to flee the scene. He wondered if he should alert the FBI. In normal circumstances he would contact the local police, but they may not be sympathetic to a request for assistance given their recent adventure with Bravo Company.
He checked the time. Less than fifteen minutes had passed since the alarm had sounded. Mark had not targeted any of the individuals, although he saw that one man had been hit, presumably by a ricochet. Anna entered the room as he watched the men continue to move closer to the house, trying to get out of range of the two weapon.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. “What’s happening?”
“Intruders at the farmhouse. It’s under attack. I’ve shot out their vehicles. Get your laptop and see if you can get a look at the vehicle license plates, and try to identify the owners. I’ve sent facial images to Maeve’s people but it’s too early to get results back.”
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