by Jay Klages
“There won’t be any more. Messia was just softening us up. Wouldn’t have thought he’d bring fucking mortars. Goddamn! Okay, let’s get back out there.”
They pushed the door back open and crawled onto the roof. Dust and smoke clouded the air. Owens regripped the radio. “This is Roof Base. Is everyone okay?”
“This is North. We’re okay.”
“West is okay.”
“This is East. We’re all right, but Lowry checked on South. They’re gone. That part of the building is caved in.”
“Damn,” Owens said. “Okay, hold on.”
Owens picked up the other radio and spoke into both at the same time as the sound of sporadic gunfire began from the fringes of the forest. The drizzling rain continued, and the gray sky created an early nightfall.
“Sentry teams,” Owens said, “give me status in sequence.”
Teams One through Five replied they were all inside the building and using the first-floor barred windows for defensive positions, tapping out those panes that hadn’t shattered already. Team Three reported they had four killed from the mortar impacts while retreating back through the main entrance. The rest of the team ran to an alternate fortified service door to get inside.
“Okay, all teams, this is Base. Listen up,” Owens said. “We’ve got some casualties up here on the roof and the building’s damaged in front from what looks like a mortar attack, but we’re hanging tough. This is our sacred land. Our home. And we’re going to defend it. Now let’s light ’em up!”
All of the Chapter teams opened fire with a combination of measured shots and automatic bursts. The roof snipers started hitting targets as fast as they could. When their adversaries in the forest realized they were being shot at long range, they responded with a ferocious barrage from their AK-47s.
“They’re in digital camo,” Team One said. “Kind of hard to see ’em.”
Owens tapped on his tablet and turned on the building floodlights, then activated the additional floodlights out in the tree line.
“Here they come,” the Team Four leader said.
“Fuck,” the West sniper team said in unison.
“They’re running right at us!” Team Two said.
The force assembled at the forest’s edge emerged in a full assault. Owens and Stone crawled up behind the West roof sniper team. Owens didn’t have to look over the wall to see the flood of Messia’s men rushing toward them, as they were now showing up on camera and on his tablet’s wireless video.
Owens nodded and clenched his fist while watching Messia’s men get cut down. His teams were doing a great job, but Messia had many more people, and those people would be well trained in raid tactics. It was only a matter of time.
“They’re at the walls, starting to fire in the windows,” someone from Team One said.
“Roof team, we’ve got enemy at the wall,” Owens said. “Hit them with the two-forties.”
The Sentries who had been spotting for their sniper partners grabbed their M240 machine guns, leaned over the walls, and fired down on Messia’s men.
“There’s another big group moving to the east in the forest toward the storage facility,” the closer member of the North sniper team said.
“West and North, let’s move the twenty-fours to the north wall and try to take out as many of that group as you can.” Owens then spoke into the other radio. “Sentry teams, move to reinforce the main entrance if you can.”
They’ll go through the front. Messia already knows the way to the executive area from the front.
We’ll give them a good fight, then let them all in.
Sentry Conrad of Roof Team West slid off his sniper perch, pivoted, and began to move across the roof in a crouch. There was a dull thud of something bouncing twice on the roof beside him. He craned his neck to the right and saw the green sphere roll and come to rest, and as his mind registered what it was, he dove to the ground in the opposite direction and yelled, “Grenade!”
CHAPTER 59
Saturday, June 29
8:43 p.m. (PDT)
AgriteX
Owens and Stone both felt like they’d been stabbed in the back by a burning pitchfork as the shrapnel from the exploding M67 fragmentation grenade sank into their flesh. They rolled forward and huddled next to each other.
“I’m hit!” Owens said.
“Same here,” Stone said in an agonized grunt. “Get inside. I’ll check on Conrad.”
Owens ignored Stone’s suggestion. Instead, he refocused and found his radios.
“Roof Team: Stone and I are hit. We’re moving down to the executive wing. You’re welcome to come and join us.”
“This is Team North. We’re engaging targets near the storage area,” Sentry Stewart said. “There’s also a convoy of enemy vehicles moving in—mostly pickups. We’re going to stay and keep shooting.”
“Okay,” Owens said. “Watch out for more grenades.” Owens switched to the radio in his other hand. “This is Base. Team Leaders, give me a status in sequence of how many men you’ve got, and where you are.”
The Team Leaders responded as they’d been trained to do.
Team One had been cut down to four men at the entrance atrium.
There was no response from Team Two.
Team Three was on the run with six left.
And Team Four and Team Five had linked up for eleven men total.
“Okay,” Owens said, “the enemy has a foothold in the atrium so you guys need to fall back. Teams Four and Five, move through the north side of the building and come south into the executive wing. Team One, withdraw to the executive wing and let me know when you’re behind the access door.”
Owens saw Stone crawling back toward him, shaking his head.
“Conrad’s gone,” Stone said. “We’ve got to leave him.”
Owens nodded. Most of his own strength had left him, and now being both weak and wounded, he knew he was becoming useless. He shoved the radios in his cargo pockets. Together, Owens and Stone crawled on all fours over to the roof door again, and helped each other to get on their feet and slip inside the door to the stairwell.
They caught their breath and staggered down the steps, clutching the rail until they reached the second-floor landing. Owens paused next to another narrow door inside the stairwell marked “FIRE EQUIPMENT,” and deactivated the lock by placing his thumb on the access pad. Stone had never been inside the four-foot-wide hallway or known about this secret door.
The passage curled to their right and ended at a black steel spiral staircase. With Stone behind him, Owens descended to ground level, where a door opened into the sitting room of Owens’s office. When Stone shut it behind him, the door blended into the foggy lake wall mural.
“Come on, let’s go inside the vault,” Owens said. They both limped into the room and Owens pointed to a matted area of the floor. “We can sit down here and bleed together.”
Stone knelt on the mat with a tortured look on his face while he unbuttoned his shirt top.
“How bad is it?” he asked.
Owens looked at Stone’s black undershirt, which was soaked with blood in the back and shredded in several spots where the shrapnel had penetrated. There were four deep wounds. He sighed. “All of our docs are gone, and I’m afraid my first-aid kit in here isn’t going to help. I don’t even think I can get up again to fetch it.”
“That’s all right. I knew the deal,” Stone said. “I noticed you didn’t shut the vault.”
Owens nodded. A voice came over his radio.
“Base, this is Team Four!”
“This is Base,” Owens said.
“We’re getting overrun—they’ve got too many.”
“If you’re able to get out of the building now, get the hell out,” Owens said. He pulled the second radio out of his pocket.
“Roof Team, are you there?”
“Your roof team is fucking dead,” a voice with a Mexican accent said on the other end.
Owens turned off the r
adio and set it on the glass cocktail table. Within arm’s reach was a compact refrigerator, and he pulled out two bottles of water and set one in front of Stone. They both guzzled some water down, listening to the sound of gunfire outside of the executive wing.
Owens opened a small bamboo box from the coffee table and retrieved two joints, handing one to Stone and then lighting them both with a silver Zippo lighter.
“You fought with your men to the end, Marshall. That says it all. It’s been fun working with you.”
“Likewise,” Owens said. “This whole thing is going to work out beautifully. We’re just not going to be around to see the end. But I’ll see you again.”
“The only punishment is here on Earth.”
“Amen.”
Five minutes later, the nearby sound of gunfire stopped. Owens hit a button on a remote control from the coffee table and soft flute music began to play around them. They could hear shouting in Spanish out in the reception area.
His teams had fought with honor to the last man. They fought with the belief they could win and the Chapter would grow and prosper as a people. The spirit of the Chapter was unbroken.
Now his cultus tilikum, his Sentry warriors, would soon attack. His tilikum, or Guardians, would continue his important work. And his elitah, his Zulu slaves, would continue to serve him in the afterlife.
His time as tyee, the chief of a company and of a people, was coming to an end.
He picked up his radio and flipped to another channel.
“Team L-FAC, you there?”
“This is L-FAC,” Sentry Judge said on the other end.
“Get ready to launch the Zulus’ attack in about two minutes,” Owens said. “You’ll hear the signal, loud and clear. Anyone in a digital camo pattern is a target.”
“Roger,” Judge said.
A team of six cartel soldiers moved into the room, their AK-47s at the ready.
“How are you guys doing?” Owens asked.
The leader looked at Stone, at Owens, then back at Stone, and squeezed the trigger of his weapon. From fewer than ten feet away, the short burst of gunfire ripped into Stone’s chest, killing him as he fell backward on the mat.
The leader swung the barrel of his AK-47 toward Owens and motioned with it.
“Get up. You’re coming with us.”
“No, I’m not going anywhere now,” Owens said, and inhaled deeply on his joint. With the fist of his other hand, he wiped away the drops of Stone’s blood that had landed on the right side of his face. “And you can tell Messia that his seed shipment was sold to other buyers months ago. He can give Tesar our personal thanks for financing us with the advance payment. So you have all fought for nothing. But I suppose you’re not going to be around to tell him that. Well, don’t worry, I’m sure he’ll figure it out.”
“Get him,” the leader said and motioned to the pair of his men closest to Owens. The men reached under Owens’s armpits to yank him up to his feet.
Owens shut his eyes and clicked the detonator inside his fist, and the 115 one-pound blocks of C-4 lining the walls of the vault exploded around him.
CHAPTER 60
Saturday, June 29
9:17 p.m. (PDT)
Tillamook State Forest
On top of Hill 2230, Team Echo was packed up and getting ready to hike back to its vehicles when a thundering boom echoed west of them in the valley.
“What the fuck was that?” Messia asked no one. He turned to Sandoval. “Have Alpha and Delta Teams check in.” Messia stepped closer so he could listen to the radio.
“Ramos, what are you seeing?” Sandoval asked. “You hear that explosion?”
There was no response.
“Ramos, you hear me? Munoz?” Sandoval looked at Messia. “That’s strange.”
Now Messia was worried. He’d ordered Team Delta to peel off some men to support Alpha when Alpha encountered fierce fighting. That had chewed up another precious twenty minutes. And Ramos had just reported that most of Owens’s men were dead and Ramos’s men were flushing out the executive area of the building.
“Echo, this is Garcia!” Garcia’s voice over the radio shouted. “The whole side of AgriteX exploded. Like, half the building is gone!”
Messia said to Sandoval, “What about the seed?”
“Have you gotten the seed?” Sandoval relayed.
“We haven’t found it yet. We checked the bins in the storage facility, the storage units outside. We checked some other bags in the warehouse and there’s just mulch and bark dust. Nothing in the composting area. Charlie is checking the other side—maybe they’ve had better luck.”
“Keep looking. We’re running out of time,” Sandoval said. He didn’t need Messia to tell him to say that.
“This is Charlie!” Figueroa yelled over the radio. “We’re under attack!”
“You’re under attack? From what?” Sandoval asked.
“They’ve got hundreds more soldiers with rifles, coming out of nowhere. Screaming like a bunch of fucking crazy people.”
Sandoval looked at Messia, who showed no reaction to the news.
“What do you want me to say?” Sandoval asked.
Messia thought through every possible permutation of a plan during the next thirty seconds.
“Tell them to keep looking for the seed and that Bravo will come reinforce. Then call Garcia and tell him to go support.”
Messia walked a few steps away while Sandoval relayed the messages. He couldn’t tell Sandoval or anyone else, but from this point forward he knew they had failed. Marshall must have moved the seed inside the building, rigged it into whatever explosives he’d wired the AgriteX building with, and now the seed was just part of a massive dust cloud.
At this point, not only would every federal agency be looking for him, Tesar would hold him responsible for the seed and the failed attack—which almost assured a painful execution.
His best hope at this point would be to negotiate a deal for turning himself in to the feds through his attorney. He still had time to do this with a shred of planning.
Messia walked back to Sandoval and put his hand on his back.
“Come on, Victor. We’re getting out of here.”
CHAPTER 61
Saturday, June 29
9:23 p.m. (PDT)
FBI field office, Portland, Oregon
The recorded debriefing dragged on for more than four hours in the briefing room. Morris had stopped by early on and informed the group that four agents were dead, and his disclosure added a tense weight to the air.
An agent named Cody Marquart led the questioning, which documented all of Kade’s activities hour by hour during the entire operation to the best of his recollection. When Kade became impatient and tried to leap ahead to his opinions and conclusions, Marquart reeled him right back to the current discussion. Carla Singleton, Greg Belmont, and behavioral analyst Erica Norcross sat around the conference room table. Jerry Lerner continued listening in over the speakerphone.
When Kade spoke of the Chapter’s technology and the medical procedures he’d undergone, the tone of the team’s follow-up questions and their looks suggested they had some skepticism. There were suggestions he’d been hypnotized or otherwise brainwashed, which he didn’t believe but couldn’t effectively deny either.
Did he have tangible proof there was a chip inside his head? No, it was only what he’d been told and what he could see in his visual overlay before the MRI. There was nothing he could “show” anybody.
Marquart said he would suggest Kade receive a more thorough physical exam in the coming weeks.
Brilliant suggestion, buddy.
So Kade decided, until he was examined again, he would pull back from sharing everything, including the odd residual effects of the procedures. The facial recognition. His ability to pick up on and analyze micro-expressions in more detail if he could see them up close. If this team thought he’d lost his marbles now, they wouldn’t believe the information he needed them to understand
.
He also omitted some key incidents, such as shooting Sentry Hill and others inside AgriteX, and his fight with a presumed cartel member in the forest.
I’m not letting myself get arrested for doing whatever it took to get out of there.
No one would understand.
Other than short bathroom breaks and delivery pizza, there were no distractions. Before Marquart departed, he called Morris to let him know the debriefing was complete. Kade leaned toward the speakerphone and broke the ensuing silence.
“It’s after midnight, your time, Jerry,” he said. “Way past your bedtime.”
“Yeah,” Jerry said. “Sorry, you’re stuck with me, pal. Hanging in there?”
“I don’t have much of a choice.”
Kade popped the lid on the ibuprofen bottle the hospital had given him and shook out a large pill, downing it with a sip of water. He then took an antibiotic pill from the bottle next to it.
Morris returned with stress and fatigue showing on his face. SAC Caldwell entered behind him, walking with a slight natural limp.
Morris waved to the group and then said to Kade, “I know that was a long time to sit, but we needed all the debriefing information first as evidence for warrants in case you got hit by a bus tomorrow.”
“You look like you already got hit by the bus,” Caldwell added. “Thanks for your efforts—I understand you’ve been through quite an ordeal.”
Kade nodded and looked down.
Caldwell sat down in the center chair and was silent for a moment.
“Let me give you all an update on our current situation,” he said. “We rescued our four agents near the crash site, so now our operational focus turns to preventing any immediate threat to the public from Chapter elements or cartel forces, and to stop the spread of any violence from their conflict.
“We also need to update our assessment of the Chapter’s capability of conducting a terror attack within days. I’m speaking with the director and assistant director of the Counterterrorism Division in a few minutes, and want to make sure we’re providing the best analysis we can.”