Bamboo Battleground

by Don Bendell

  “Yes,” Joe answered, “we have pictures and video of him, too.”

  The four set up a stakeout schedule and watched the building. Finally, after only one day, Rod spotted Muhammad entering the building the following morning.

  Bobby said, “Have you guys been monitoring the camera and mike I planted in the Fair Weather conference room?”

  Joe said, “We haven’t. The NSA has.”

  Bobby said, “I need you to call it in. Ask if they have any eyes or ears on him in the conference room, and also if there is any new intel on Tran.”

  “Will do,” Joe said.

  Bobby and Bo dressed in business suits. Bobby poured out the contents of the two briefcases on the bed, and started putting weapons inside, including his MP5.

  Bobby picked up the sat phone and called General Perry.

  After greeting him and asking if he could talk, Bobby said, “General, we have got to prevent another 9/11, sir. I need your help right now.”

  “What do you need, son?” the general replied.

  Bobby said, “Sir, I need you to call the president and ask him to call Manila and use whatever political pull he has to allow us to enter that building and take down Muhammad and whoever else we need to find out what the attack plan is on the U.S.”

  “You got it, Bobby,” the general said. “You do whatever you have to do. The president already told me this morning to tell you he has got your back, no matter what. You know how he is about keeping his word. He will back whatever you need to do.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Bobby said. “Also, can you have a team from CAG taken by fastest means possible to California and have them standing by?”

  “You got it,” the chief of staff replied. “Any thing else you and Bo need, son?”

  “Prayers, sir,” Bobby said.

  General Perry said, “Bobby, you have had those on a continuing basis, and I will put out the word, including to the president, to pray for you right now.”

  “Thanks, sir,” Bobby said. “My dad had a friend who always said, ‘There is a time for talking and there is a time for doing,’ and this is a time for doing. I’m out.”

  General Perry said, “Do it, Colonel. Perry out.”

  Bobby finished dressing, and Bo went through her briefcase checking her weapons and seeing what Bobby packed. Joe came into the room smiling.

  “Bobby, you need to come in here,” Joe said.

  Bobby and Bo went into the other room, and Rod was looking through the U.S. Army M144 spotting scope and chuckling.

  Joe said, “Tell them, Rod.”

  Rod said, “Colonel, I don’t know what’s up over there, but it looks like they are having an al Qaeda-Vietnamese summit convention going on. Haven’t seen Tran but several Vietnamese men and a couple women have gone into the building in the past half hour, also, a lot of Mideastern-looking gents. Two I know are Arabs because they both wore checkered chemaghs.”

  Joe added, “Plus, NSA reports that the conference room is full and they are talking about a ship headed toward the Port of Los Angeles. Hang on, I wrote it down.”

  Joe ran over to the desk and returned with a piece of paper. “They have a container ship headed to Los Angeles called the MV Fairweather.”

  Bobby asked, “What size is it?”

  Joe said, “Hang on.”

  He ran over to the desk and his own sat phone, picking it up.

  Prior to the days of container ships, all cargo was carried on what is known as general cargo ships and the cargo was known as break-bulk cargo. Cargo ships are much slower to load and unload, so if a ship is not carrying things like a load of coal, they go with container ships.

  A 40-foot container was 39 feet 4 inches long, 7 feet 6 inches tall, and 7 feet 8 inches wide inside. The container holds 2,261 cubic feet of area or about 84 cubic yards. In the cargo business, ships are divided into 20-foot container units known as TEU (20-foot equivalent units).

  Container ships are also called “box” ships. The “boxes” they carry are containers that generally are found in 20- and 40-foot lengths. They can be filled with just about any type of cargo, from television sets to fruit or meat. The containers that carry frozen or chilled food are know as “refers,” or refrigerated containers. The capacity of a container ship is measured in TEU (technical equivalent units). So a freighter carrying 1,600 TEUs is relatively small compared to many of the larger container ships.

  The MV Fairweather was much bigger, carrying 4,500 containers and was 1,000 feet long, which is 100 feet longer than a football field.

  Bobby ran into his room and grabbed his own sat phone.

  He called General Perry again.

  “Sir, do you have Weatherford on ice or is he still being questioned?”

  Perry laughed and said, “Under the bright lights.”

  Bobby said, “I have to know if he tried to run interference on a ship out of Manila called the MV Fairweather. Did he try to use any influence to get it to port unabated anywhere, especially the Port of Los Angeles? It is steaming for the U.S. right now.”

  General Perry said, “Stand by. I am calling on another line.”

  He came back in a few minutes saying, “In fact, he did. Weatherford made a special call to the coast guard and customs. He told them he wanted them to allow that ship to come into port at Los Angeles without inspection, because it was carrying containers filled with supplies for AIDS victims as well as housing kits for those who were still homeless from Hurricane Katrina.”

  Bobby said, “Bull! If I am correct, General, that ship is a floating atomic bomb and has forty-five hundred forty-foot-by-about-eight-foot-by-eight-foot containers carrying explosives. With the right type of explosives, it could wipe out a good chunk of Los Angeles. The coast guard has got to stop that ship at sea and inspect the containers.”

  Perry said, “Your hunch is good enough, Bobby. You do your thing. I’ll do mine. Bye.”

  Bobby and Bo gave each other one of those “I’m ready to rock and roll” looks.

  Samuels said, “So, Joe and Rod. Are you guys investigatory only, or do you like to rumble, too?”

  Rod started laughing and walked over and punched Joe on the shoulder.

  Rod said, “Sir, Joe is medically retired from the Marine Corps. Force recon. He received the Navy Cross and three Purple Hearts in Iraq and had three tours there under his belt. The shrapnel he carries literally sets off alarms in airports.”

  Bobby grabbed Joe’s hand and shook with him, saying, “Semper fi, Joe!”

  Joe said, “He forgot himself, Bobby. Rod was a detective with the New York Port Authority and rescued I don’t know how many people out of Tower One before it collapsed. He got knocked cold himself by falling debris, and they took him out by ambulance before the buildings collapsed.”

  Tears in her eyes, Bo came over and threw her arms around Rod and held him. He gave Bobby a helpless look. Bobby smiled and winked, then shook hands with him when she stepped back.

  “Boys,” Bobby said, “and I don’t mean that in a racial way.” They chuckled, and he went on, “We’re headed to the O.K. Corral. You want to mosey over there, too?”

  Joe jumped up, enthusiastically saying, “Does Pinocchio have a wooden pecker?”

  Then he got embarrassed looking over at Bo and said, “Oops! Excuse me, ma’am.”

  Bo picked up her briefcase, saying, “That explains it.”

  Joe was shaken now and said, “Explains what?”

  Bo said, “Oh, I saw a sequel to Pinocchio called Pinocchio, the Teenage Years, and he always had splinters in his right hand.”

  Bo opened the door and walked out into the hallway and heard the three exploding with laugher.

  Rod looked at Bobby and said, “You wife is totally cool, sir.”

  They followed her out the door still laughing.

  In the lobby, Bobby stopped them and said, “You two need to come in after Bo and me. There is a sofa in the center front in front of the guard’s station. Sit down on that and t
ell the guard you are waiting on a Pearl 2 Bamboo executive who is meeting you there. If he asks who, say Clay Allison, because I remember seeing that name in their brochure, and it was the gunfighter’s name, and then I heard the receptionist tell someone that he was on a trip to Hong Kong and would be back in a week or so.”

  They all shook hands and Bobby and Bo went out the door.

  Bobby looked over at Bo and smiled, then said, “I love you.”

  Bo felt warm all over and said, “I love you, too. From now on, I don’t want to kick in any doors without reminding you of that first.”

  It gave Bobby a grim reminder of what their work was like. They were adrenaline junkies and always facing danger, but on any given day, they could go through a door and get blasted, either one. They accepted that.

  They went out and crossed the street, then went down a short distance to the modern-looking skyscraper and entered. Bobby and Bo waved at Rufus, who gave them a big smile. He walked out from behind the security console and handed them both security badges.

  They thanked him and put them on.

  Rufus said, “You said that you both would be back.”

  They headed toward the elevators, and Bo grabbed Bobby’s arm.

  She said, “You want me to trust your vibes, honey. Now, I need you to trust mine.”

  Bobby said, “Always.”

  “Good.”

  Bo followed by Bobby walked up to Rufus and said quietly, “Rufus, you are a good cop, aren’t you?”

  He threw his shoulders back and said, “Yes, I am. When I can be a real cop and not a rent-a-cop.”

  Bo said, “So are we.”

  He said, “Huh?”

  Bo continued, “Being a good cop, you had to have noticed all the al Qaeda types coming in here today?”

  Rufus said, “I do not racially profile people, ma’am.”

  “Nice company line, Rufus,” she said, “but you did say you are a real cop.”

  He said, “Yeah, they all give me the creeps. I don’t mean profiling anybody. Every one of those Arabs today were all real unfriendly and arrogant.”

  Bobby picked up on what Bo was doing and said, “They are all al Qaeda.”

  “What!” he said, astounded but not really that shocked.

  Bo pulled out her badge and showed it to him and said, “We are cops, and, Rufus, I am telling you because I like you. It is time to go home. Forget the submissive little wife dream and catch the next plane back to the States. This job will be gone tomorrow.”

  His mouth was hanging open as Bo pulled out a business card.

  She said, “You have much family stateside?”

  He said, “No, ma’am.”

  “Go to Canton, Ohio, and look up the Stark County sheriff,” she said. “I have worked with him before and tell him I sent you to work for him. You become a cop again and the woman will come after, naturally. Be patient.”

  He said, “This job will be gone tomorrow?”

  Bobby replied, “This whole business will be gone tomorrow. She felt for you and does not want you involved in this.”

  Joe and Rod came in the door, and Bobby signaled them over.

  Bo said, “They are cops, too, Rufus. They need visitors passes, too.”

  Rufus got tears in his eyes and wiped them away. He handed Joe and Rod passes and shook hands with each.

  Bobby explained, “Rufus has been working for us here undercover.”

  Rufus looked at Bobby with wonderment and then Bo. He stuck out his hand and shook enthusiastically.

  He said, “The first jet I can get out of here on. I promise. Thank you. Thank you both.”

  He went out the door, tossing his badge on the desk.

  They smiled and the four of them headed for the elevators. They went up the first one, and Bo explained the floor plan to the other two and told them to let Bobby do the talking.

  They went down the hallway toward the conference room, which had the doors shut. They stopped and set the briefcases down, and Bobby pulled out his MP5 and slammed a magazine in place and jacked the first round in the chamber. Then he pulled his Glock 17 out with his left hand. The others armed themselves, too.

  Bobby nodded and Bo reached out with her left hand, and they went through the big door and spread apart.

  Immediately, Muhammad’s biggest bodyguard screamed, “Allahu Ahkbar!” and yanked out a sawed-off pump twelve-gauge shotgun.

  Bobby’s burst of fire from the MP5 almost ripped the big man in half. The shotgun went off and blew the leg off a Vietnamese terrorist two chairs down. Several women screamed, one man started whimpering, and all raised their hands. Bobby looked at one of the Vietnamese near the wounded man.

  He said, “Speak English?”

  The man said, “Yes.”

  Bobby said, “Go ahead and put a tourniquet on his leg.”

  The man dropped down to tend to his fallen comrade.

  Bobby looked at a distinguished-looking American and said, “Are you James Weatherford’s brother?”

  He replied, “I damned sure am, and you wait until he hears about this.”

  Bobby said, “Maybe he’ll hear about it in his prison cell at the Supermax federal pen in Florence, Colorado, but he’ll only be able to commiserate with his cellmate, Brutus. He is out of business, and so are you, as of today.”

  The man started to speak, and Bo interrupted him with a well-placed bullet that went into the table and shattered his drinking glass all over him. He was drenched with a couple of slivers of glass sticking in his face and hands. He started picking them out.

  Bo said quietly, “Shush. You are done talking. Unless you are spoken to.”

  Bobby was bothered by one very pretty Vietnamese woman at the tray of coffee who kept smiling at him, and even winked one time.

  Rod’s gun barked and a man next to Muhammad grabbed his chest, a pistol falling from his hand. He had slid it up behind his glass and Bobby and Bo both missed it.

  Without looking back, Bobby said, “Thanks, Rod.”

  Bobby turned his attention to Muhammad Yahyaa.

  He said, “Muhammad Yahyaa, head of al Qaeda for all of Southeast Asia. What is packed in the containers aboard the MV Fairweather?”

  Yahyaa hissed at him, “Ya l’aahira!”

  Bobby said, “Yes, I’m a bastard and a mean one right now, because I will not let you or anyone commit another 9/11 on my soil. I will do anything I need to, to prevent that. Now, what is in those containers?”

  Muhammad stared defiantly, and Weatherford’s brother said, “He will never tell you.”

  Bobby said, “Good point.”

  He raised his MP5 and aimed it directly at Muhammad Yahyaa’s face and saw the man’s eyes open wide with terror and Bobby opened fire. Brains and blood went all over several people and Muhammad’s other bodyguard screamed and raised a folding-stock AK-47 up from under the table and took three sets of simultaneous double taps from Bo, Joe, and Rod.

  Bobby pointed his MP5 at Weatherford’s face saying, “Last time. What is in those containers?”

  The man’s eyes opened very wide in fear, and he held his hands protectively over his face.

  He shrieked, “Please! Please! I swear I don’t know. He told us they were going to make a statement and blow up some boats and docks in Los Angeles, but that is all I know. I swear!”

  Bobby turned the MP5 quickly and many rounds went through the giant coffeepot drenching the pretty Vietnamese woman, and he pointed his weapon at her.

  Bobby said, “Speak English?”

  She said, “Titi.”

  He said, “Good, really cute disguise, but the next time, Nguyen Van Tran, you want to try to pass yourself off as a woman, wear a scarf to hide your Adam’s apple. Women don’t have Adam’s apples.”

  Joe looked at Rod and shook his head, grinning.

  Bo smiled with pride at her husband and partner.

  Tran yelled, “Choi oi! Choi doc oi!” which means “sun rock” but is really cursing in Vietnamese.
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  He raised an MP5 himself and shot Bobby in the same arm that was slashed. Bo hit him with a double tap center mass, but he was wearing a Kevlar vest with a heart plate, under his ao dai, or dress. She dropped as he fired at her, and Rod’s shot in the heart plate threw his aim off.

  Bobby and Bo, under the table, opened fire on his legs, and he went down like a shot, and they emptied their magazines into his legs and groin area. He was screaming and suffering from several arterial hits.

  Joe screamed at everybody in the room to lay across the table, hands out.

  “You no speaky English, you die right now.”

  Everyone complied.

  Rod ran to Bobby and grabbed a necktie off the man by him to make a quick bandage for Bobby’s arm.

  Joe yelled, “Rod, her, too.”

  Bobby and Rod looked and saw that Bo was bleeding from her right triceps. Rod got another tie and bandaged her. Bobby and Bo, using their good hands, covered the people across the table while Rod and Joe quickly frisked everybody for weapons. They recovered several.

  Then Joe looked at them and laughed, saying, “Do you two shoot and kill all your suspects before you question them, or is this just a bad day?”

  Just then Bobby’s sat phone rang. He answered it.

  It was General Perry.

  He said, “Bobby, are you two okay? NSA has been watching the whole episode with the camera you planted. In fact, so have I and the president. By the way, the tape is going to be destroyed, but we have enjoyed the hell out of it. Do you remember the nasty fertilizer bomb that Timothy McVeigh and his cohorts made to wipe out the Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City?”

  “Yes, sir,” Bobby replied, “I sure do.”

  General Perry said, “Well, that was what was in all forty-five hundred containers on the MV Fairweather. Imagine a bomb going off in the Port of Los Angeles with forty-five times the explosive power of the Oklahoma City bombing, and that is what you just prevented.”

  Bobby said, “We did. How?”

  The general replied, “Good idea on asking for the team from CAG. The coast guard got fired on when they approached the cargo ship. Lost two and had several wounded. The Delta Force team never even landed. They flew on out and the whole team HALOed in and landed on containers fore and aft, and shot the hell out of the crew. The ship was searched and was a floating mega-bomb. How bad are your wounds, seriously?”