A quick frisk uncovered plastic handcuffs in a cargo pocket. Serrafino helped himself, pulled the man’s arms behind his back and slipped on the cuffs. He opened the rear hatch of the SUV just wide enough to stuff Williams inside, then softly closed it. He stashed the man’s MP5N and pistol under the thick bushes running along the front porch. He checked his watch. Sal and Bernie had two more minutes to secure the rear, then they would enter the building.
Vincenzo and Robinson made their way to the back of the building and crept up close as they could to the guard by the Dumpster. Unfortunately, they couldn’t get close enough.
“We gotta make a move soon, Sal,” Robinson whispered. “Dave only gave us a few minutes before he goes in the front door.”
“The head-on approach is not going to work,” said Vincenzo. “We need this joker to— wait! Get ready.”
The man moved to the other side of the Dumpster, then continued behind it. He leaned his submachine gun against the Dumpster.
“He’s taking a piss!” Vincenzo hissed. “I’m going straight in. You come up behind him. Now!”
Vincenzo didn’t notice a patch of loose gravel until his boot came down, the tiny crunch sounding like a thunderclap in the silence. The man spun around, saw Vincenzo, and quickly began tucking himself back into his pants. He grabbed his weapon just as Robinson delivered a vicious uppercut that lifted the man off his feet and laid him out cold on his back.
They dragged the unconscious guard behind the Dumpster. Robinson grabbed the MP5N. Vincenzo relieved the man of his pistol and frisked him, finding plastic handcuffs, which he put on the man’s wrists.
“How’s it look?” Vincenzo asked.
“All clear,” Robinson answered. “What are we gonna do with Sleeping Beauty?”
Vincenzo looked up at the Dumpster towering above him. “What say we dump him in with the rest of the trash?”
“Oh, that’s just nasty,” Robinson said.
Robinson raised the lid of the Dumpster just enough for Vincenzo to squeeze the man through. He slid the man’s weapons out of sight into the narrow space between the bottom of the Dumpster and the ground.
Vincenzo glanced at his watch. “And a whopping fifteen seconds to spare.” Robinson moved to the edge of the Dumpster to keep watch. Vincenzo crept up the steps and peeked through the rear door window. He saw the young girl and woman seated in the kitchen. The husband leaned against a commercial stove. Mitchell and Foster stood near a man in black fatigues. Vincenzo put his hand on the doorknob, but froze when a second man in black entered. There were a lot of weapons in the room. Vincenzo decided to sit tight a bit longer to see what happened.
“Now,” Black said, “tell me exactly what you remember about this morning.”
Jennifer’s blue eyes teared up. “I can’t…remember.”
Mitchell leaned toward Foster. “I’m telling you, Sean, the kid’s in shock.”
Foster tipped his head toward Mitchell, keeping his eyes on Black. “What she doesn’t realize is that her blank memory is keeping her alive right now.”
“You can’t remember anything?” Black persisted. “You just woke up here?”
“I...guess.”
“She said she doesn’t remember,” Sara interrupted. “Maybe it will all come back when she gets to a hospital and receives proper care.”
If that’s what it was going to take, then he would get her back to BoDex and grill her good and hard without an audience. Black turned to Foster. “The girl goes with us back to BoDex. As for these two, you stay here and watch them until you hear from me.”
“Now you wait a damn minute!” Jack pointed his finger in Foster’s face. “This girl got lost and now you found her. That should be the end of the story, right? Why do we need you to stay here and watch us? What have we done that warrants that?”
“Jack...” Sara said.
MacGregor turned to his wife. “Does any of this make sense? I told you something was wrong here, didn’t I?”
“Everybody calm down!” Sara shouted. “You’re scaring her!” Jennifer cowered at the table.
Collins yanked Jennifer to her feet. “Time to go! Move!”
“Oww! That hurts!” Jennifer tried to pull free but Collins had a vise-like grip.
“Get your hands off her!” Mitchell charged toward Collins.
Collins released his grip and whipped his MP5N up, pointing right at Mitchell’s heart. “Back off!”
“That’s enough!” Foster held Mitchell back and reached out trying to get Collins to lower his weapon. “Everybody just cool down, okay?”
“I only have one question,” Jack said, “and it’s for Jennifer.”
The room went silent. “Do you remember when you first woke up in our bedroom?” Jennifer nodded. “Why did you scream when you saw the teddy bear?”
Jennifer’s eyes squinted and twitched, her mouth moved but said nothing. She was trying hard to focus, then bolted to her feet, eyes wide. Her hands balled into fists. Tears flowed; her breathing became ragged. “My...my mom...and dad. I saw them...kill...my mom and dad!”
Jack put his hands on her shoulders. “Who killed your parents? Who?”
“The monsters! I saw them. They chased me through the woods! My mom and dad—” Jennifer passed out and would have collapsed to the floor but for Jack’s strong hands. Mitchell and Sara moved in at the same time. The young medic lifted Jennifer in his arms. “Let’s get her back in bed.”
Black blocked their path. “Nobody’s going anywhere!”
“The hell we’re not!” Mitchell pushed Black out of the way.
“Freeze, asshole!” Collins leveled his ever-present MP5N right between Mitchell’s eyes. “The man said no one is going anywhere.”
Jack moved to shield Sara from any gunfire that might erupt. He knew it was going to happen, if not now, then very soon.
Foster trained his assault rifle on Collins. “Lower your weapon! Now!” He screamed at Black. “Tell him to lower his goddamn weapon!” Collins kept his MP5N trained on Mitchell, then dropped the muzzle so it pointed at the unconscious girl’s head. “You bastard. You wouldn’t dare,” Foster said.
“Try me.”
“Take her out to the Humvee,” Black ordered. “I’ll deal with those two later,” indicating Sara and Jack.
“No way,” Foster said. “The girl stays here, and so do the MacGregors. Consider them all under my protection as of right now!”
“Do you have any idea what you’re doing?” Black bellowed. He reached for his pistol.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Dave Serrafino had silently made his way through the lobby to the dining room and now stood behind Black and Collins, sighting over his assault rifle. “Like the man said, lower your weapon. Now!”
The rear door of the kitchen flew open, Sal Vincenzo filling the doorway, assault rifle at his shoulder. “I’d listen if I were you.”
Black moved his hand away from his pistol. “Collins, lower your weapon,” he ordered. Collins didn’t move. “Do it now!” Collins reluctantly lowered his MP5N.
Mitchell, still carrying Jennifer, followed Sara out of the kitchen. Jack followed closely behind, trying to figure out who were the bad guys and if there actually were any good guys.
“What the hell took you so long?” Foster said.
“Sorry, Sean. I’m not as young as I used to be.” Serrafino grinned. “I’ll take that.” He reached for the MP5N slung over Black’s shoulder. “And your little friend there, too.” Serrafino nodded toward Black’s handgun.
“Your turn,” Vincenzo said to Collins. Collins tightened his grip on his weapon.
“Don’t be stupid,” Foster advised.
Collins looked at the three assault rifles pointed at him. Still, he was itching for a fight.
“Give it to him,” Black said.
“But—”
“Just give him your goddamn guns!” Black shouted. No one had ever gotten the drop on his team. It was humiliating. He was already loo
king ahead to a rematch.
Collins handed Vincenzo his MP5N, then his SIG. “Don’t get comfortable. I’ll be taking them back real soon.”
“Sure, tough guy,” Vincenzo said.
“Here’s the deal.” Foster stared at Black. “Gather your team, take the Humvee, and go back to BoDex. I know what you have in mind for these people and it’s not going to happen. I’ll square it away with General Attwood.”
“General Attwood is not calling the shots any more,” Black said. “I am. You can call him, but he’s only going to tell you to obey my orders.”
Black was right. In his last conversation with Attwood, the general instructed Foster to do as Black ordered. But Black was hinting at murder. Foster didn’t sign up for that, nor did his team.
“Dave, Sal, get these jokers out to their Humvee,” Foster said.
“Sean, I should go and get Bernie. We, uh, may have popped their rear guard and tossed him in the Dumpster,” Vincenzo said. Black looked ready to explode.
“Go ahead, Sal,” Foster replied. “Meet us out front.”
“Let’s go,” Serrafino said. Black and Collins walked through the dining room and lobby, across the front porch, and down the steps to the parking lot, followed closely by Foster and Serrafino.
Black looked around, surprised at not seeing Williams there.
“Looking for someone?” Serrafino asked. Black refused to answer. “Why don’t you try the trunk of the SUV.” Serrafino motioned with his assault rifle.
Black walked to the back of the vehicle and raised the rear hatch. There was Williams, all trussed up and blinking in the sudden rush of sunlight. Black and Collins helped him out, then removed the plastic handcuffs and makeshift gag.
“I—” Williams spluttered.
“Shut up!” Black growled. Now he saw Graham, Popavich, and Rossi walking around the end of the building, hands clasped on top of their heads, two of Foster’s men prodding them with rifles.
Graham’s black fatigues were covered in scraps of food and unidentifiable trash. He smelled foul. Even Popavich and Rossi kept their distance.
“All right, Black. Head out,” Foster commanded. “Be thankful we’re not making you walk back to BoDex.”
“What about our weapons?” Collins asked.
Foster thought for a moment. “Bernie, check the Humvee for extra ammo. If you find any, grab it. Sal, pull the magazines from all their weapons, and clear the chambers.” Vincenzo pulled every magazine from the MP5Ns and handguns, cleared the chambers, then handed the empty firearms back to Black’s team.
Robinson stepped out of the Humvee, his hands empty. “She’s clean, Sean.”
Black’s men sheepishly held their useless weapons. Foster said, “Trust me, you’re lucky to be getting them back at all.”
“Trust me,” Black snarled, “this isn’t over by a long shot.”
“We’ll see,” Foster replied. “Get moving.”
Black’s team piled into the Humvee. Black and Foster locked gazes. If looks could kill, Foster would be stone-cold dead. The vehicle tore out of the parking lot.
Foster spoke into his radio. “Cummings, the relief team is coming your way in the Humvee. Stay out of sight until they pass.”
Cummings melted into the woods just off the end of the small bridge. The Humvee roared by.
“They’re gone, Sean.”
But for how long? A chill ran through Foster as he remembered Black’s death stare. For how long?
They had not traveled far from the resort when Black pointed to a clearing. “Pull over.” Popavich wheeled the Humvee to the side of the road. Black got out, slammed the door, and paced back and forth. Finally, he spoke into his radio.
“Schmidt. This is Black. Do you read me?”
“Loud and clear,” replied the UH-60 pilot in his Texas drawl.
“Is the Black Hawk ready to fly?”
“All fueled up, ready to go.”
“Grab all of our extra ammunition. I mean every bullet and spare magazine.”
“Roger. Anything else?”
Black thought. “Make sure the ropes are onboard.”
“Already done,” Schmidt said.
“That should do it. Any questions?”
“I, uh, need to tell you about Becker and Everett.”
“They should have been picked up a while ago.”
“Yeah, they were, but...”
“Yeah, but what, Schmidt?”
“They didn’t make it. They were dead when the medical team got to them.”
“That’s impossible!” Black yelled. “Becker had a busted leg and Everett hurt his arm. How the hell did they die?” The others in the Humvee sat in silence.
“They think the Centurions got to Becker and Everett before the medical team did. The bastards didn’t leave much to be picked up.” Schmidt’s voice trailed off.
Black was suddenly frightened. Becker and Everett, two of his best men, had been on a lot of missions with Black. He thought they were invincible. If those dumb animals could take out two of his best armed to the teeth, what would happen when he came face to face with them?
After Schmidt signed off, Black contacted BoDex and demanded Attwood get on the radio. The general sounded drained.
“This is General Attwood.”
“Is this a secure channel?” Black struggled to maintain control.
“Let me check.” Attwood sat at Hector Valdez’s station. He waved Valdez over.
Covering the microphone, Attwood asked, “Is this a secure channel?”
“Yes, sir, it is.” Valdez pointed at a red light on the panel. “When that light is on, no one else can listen in on your conversation, sir.”
Attwood grunted and waved him away.
“I just verified no one else can hear us.”
That’s all Black needed to know. “Your goddamn golden boys went off the reservation, General!”
“What are you talking about? Foster is a professional. I ordered him to follow your instructions without question.”
“That may be, but his professional streak is over.” Black launched into the whole incident of being ambushed and ejected empty-handed from the resort by Foster’s team.
“I...can’t...believe...Foster...would do that.” Attwood was perplexed. “He is the best I’ve ever known, as are all the members of his team.”
“Well, believe it,” Black growled, “and now they’re going to pay for it. Every single one, along with the girl and the two people in the resort who found her!”
General Attwood knew the situation was out of his hands. That was the one condition to which there was no compromise: Black’s actions were never to be questioned. Attwood was stunned thinking about the potential of nine more deaths on top of all those already lying in the cryogenics lab.
“Are you sure there’s no other way to—”
“None. And don’t question me again,” Black said. “If you had handled your affairs correctly we wouldn’t be having this conversation. Now listen. You need to jam every frequency available to Foster’s team net. I want them completely cut off from each other and BoDex. Maintain the communications blackout on cell phones, Internet access, everything except our own team net frequencies. Can you do that?”
“Yes.” Attwood knew he was signing death warrants for Foster, his team, and the civilians.
“Then do it!”
Attwood’s voice was barely audible. “Is there anything...else?”
“Yes. Get the remains of the girl’s parents into their vehicle and find the biggest drop-off in the area. We’ll put the girl in with them and push it over. A family of three tourists takes a wrong turn and plummets to their deaths. End of story.”
“What about...the other...civilians?”
“They’re renovating that place themselves,” Black said. “They mess up the wiring, the building burns to the ground. With them inside.”
Bile rose in Attwood’s throat. This was evidently not Black’s first cleanup. He seemed too good
at it, too comfortable, an expert at sewing up loose ends. “My men? What’s going to happen to them?”
“I suggest you start interviewing for their replacements.” Black clicked off, the red light on the panel going out.
General Calhoun Attwood stared at the silent communications panel. He knew that when this disaster was over, the BoDex Research & Development facility that he had worked so hard to nurture would be dismantled and forgotten. He lowered his head into his hands.
After an agonizing minute, he shuffled down a long hallway and entered his private office. Dropping heavily into the swivel chair behind the large desk, he stared at the photographs and awards that formed a timeline of his career.
Attwood grabbed a coffee mug adorned with a military logo. He swirled the dark liquid at the bottom. It was like looking into a black hole where all was lost. Lost, just like his Centurion project, just like Foster and his men, just like his career. Just like his son.
General Attwood stared at the photograph of his late son, Captain Jeffrey Calhoun Attwood, for whom he had fought so hard for the Centurion project, so no more fathers would lose their sons for nothing. Attwood flung the coffee mug as hard as he could. It exploded against the wall of photographs and awards, jagged shards scattering like shrapnel, coffee running down the wall.
“I will not go like a lamb to slaughter!”
Attwood snatched up the telephone handset from his desk and pressed the speed dial button labeled Vought, Arnie. He was BoDex’s number two man, now the number one man since Jonathan Nichols was out of action.
“This is Arnie Vought.”
“Arnie, this is General Attwood. I need to see you immediately.”
“On my way, sir.”
Attwood flipped through his address book, scanning names, telephone numbers, and email addresses, stopping when he found the number for Al Jarvis, the sheriff for the town of Eagle’s Notch.
“We’re deaf, Sean,” Serrafino said, checking his radio again. “Cell phones, Internet access, even our own team net. Can’t raise anyone back at BoDex either. I think we’re being jammed.”
“I was afraid this might happen,” Foster said. “Black is cutting us off in preparation for an assault.”
The Devil's Claw Page 16