A group of soldiers quickly surrounded the main entrance door, peeling away moments later. The camera feed disappeared, followed by an explosion that shook the safe room. Screams punctuated the approaching sound of gunfire inside the building.
“Get on the ground!” she yelled as bullet holes peppered the top of the wall next to the door.
She saw the card reader blink red several times, followed by frantic banging on the door.
“Governor, open the door! They’ve breached the building!” said a muffled voice beyond the reinforced entry.
“You need to surrender!” she yelled back. “They’ll kill all of you if you don’t surrender!”
“Open the door! They’re here!”
A long burst of automatic fire exploded in the hallway, penetrating the door.
Medina crouched next to the computer displays, finding the security camera feed above the entrance. Two men in black body armor fired in different directions while a third pulled a critically wounded officer across the hallway, leaving a thick blood trail. More automatic fire thundered in the hallway, splintering the door and ripping into the security team. The rate of fire increased for several seconds, suddenly ceasing. She held her breath as 10th Mountain Division soldiers crowded the door.
“Governor Medina?” she heard.
None of the men on the display aimed rifles at the door.
“I’m here!” she yelled, approaching the door.
“My name is Captain Royer. We have instructions to secure the communications center. I need you to open the door so we can get this sorted out. Nobody will get hurt. You have my promise. Colonel Martin is on his way up.”
“What’s going to happen to us?” she yelled.
“Nothing, ma’am,” said the Army officer.
“Nothing, as in we just go back to our jobs?” she said, knowing that wasn’t what the captain had in mind.
“We’ll search for weapons first. After that, I presume you’ll be temporarily detained with your staff. I need you to open the door now, ma’am,” said Captain Royer.
“I need to speak with Colonel Martin,” she said, watching the screen.
The officer pressed a transmitter button on his vest and spoke. A moment later her ROTAC chirped. She answered it with a question.
“Colonel, what’s going to happen to us?”
“That’s up to you, ma’am. Lieutenant Colonel Grady is on his way to Augusta. We’re bringing Governor Dague here until the threat from the Counter Insurgency Battalion has been defused,” said Martin.
“I’ll do everything I can to help with that,” said Medina. “Unfortunately, getting the CIB deployed wasn’t a simple phone call. It attracted a lot of attention.”
“We won’t give Homeland or the White House any reason to escalate the situation, as long as you and Dague can function in a hybrid leadership role,” said Martin.
“I don’t understand,” said Medina.
“The RRZ concept is here to stay, and nobody is more qualified to run the RRZ than your staff. Governor Dague agrees that she’s not equipped to do your job,” said Martin.
“Then why has she put up so much resistance?”
“The New England RRZ governance structure had several permutations, based on the type of Category Five catastrophe we faced. None of the permutations included a tsunami wiping out the seaports from Connecticut to Portland, so Homeland decided to follow the New England RRZ protocol created for a nuclear strike against Boston,” said Martin. “It placed the entire RRZ infrastructure burden on Maine, which caused an unusual amount of friction.”
“That’s an understatement,” Medina said. “I think D.C. underestimated the independent spirit of the Maine population.”
“That too,” said Martin. “So, the job’s still yours if you want it.”
“What about Governor Dague?”
“That’s for you and the state governor to figure out. Dague will arrive here in less than an hour.”
“That doesn’t give me a lot of time,” said Medina.
“No, but it sounds like you’ve already given a lot of thought to how you could have better approached the situation last fall.”
“I used to sit in the annual training meetings, shaking my head at some of the protocol recommendations,” said Medina. “Like I said, I knew better.”
“Well, for what it’s worth, I think they picked the right person for the job. Especially for one of the nation’s critical RRZ’s.”
“Do you want to know a secret?” Medina asked, swiping her badge on the card reader.
“Always,” said Martin.
Medina punched her code, waiting for the reader’s lights to turn green before opening the door to face Colonel Martin.
“I was never trained for this job,” she said. “The real governor and his chief of staff never showed up at Andrews Air Force Base.”
“I’m beginning to suspect that might have been a blessing in disguise,” said Martin, extending his hand. “I assume you’ll stick around?”
She shook his hand. “Looks like you’re stuck with me.”
Chapter 32
Bangor, Maine
Alex jammed the ROTAC into the center console, pounding the dashboard with his other hand. He muttered a few choice words about Grady.
“What’s going on?” asked Ed, slowing for the second gate.
The chain-link fence hummed on its track, taking an eternity to open.
“There’s a military coup underway in Sanford,” said Alex, hitting the side of his door impatiently.
“Jesus,” hissed Ed, edging the SUV closer to the gate.
“Who cleaned out the warehouses?” Charlie asked. “If it was the military, we shouldn’t have anything to worry about.”
“It wasn’t the military,” said Ed. “Was it?”
“No,” Alex answered. “Medina called in some kind of paramilitary group to deal with the state government. They’ve been in possession of this stuff for nearly a month.”
The gate had barely cleared Ed’s side of the SUV when he gunned the engine, propelling them toward Runway Road.
Charlie asked, “Does he think they’re out here?”
“He didn’t say, but I’m guessing they’ll have a group nearby. The sooner we get to the turnpike, the better,” said Alex, watching the road ahead of them through night-vision goggles. “Can you see the road?”
“Barely,” grunted Ed. “Shouldn’t I be the one wearing the NVGs?”
“Normally, yes,” admitted Alex. “But I’m going to need them to spot any unwelcome roadside companions. You should be able to see it better once we get out of these trees.”
“I hope so. I’m just driving in a straight line right now.”
“You’re right on track,” said Alex, taking hold of the wheel. “I’ll guide us onto Runway Road.”
Ed accelerated after the turn, comfortable with the twilight scene unfolding at forty miles per hour. Alex kept his limited field of view through the NVGs focused forward, scanning the distance for anything that didn’t belong on the road, especially vehicles. A brisk wind churned through the windows, chafing his face and chilling the cabin. They rode in darkness and silence two-thirds of the way to New Boston Road.
“Anything?” asked Ryan.
“Looks good so far,” said Alex. “How are you doing, Ed?”
“I can see the road well enough to keep us out of a ditch. I’ll need help with the turns.”
“I see the barn coming up on the left. That’s our turn onto New Boston. Can you see it?”
“Kind of. It’s silhouetted against the horizon.”
Alex lifted the NVGs to check the ambient light guiding Ed’s journey. He was concerned about his friend’s ultimate ability to navigate the roads if they came under attack. Alex’s attention would be more focused on coordinating a defense than guiding Ed to the interstate. One wrong turn or missed intersection could put them deeper into unfamiliar territory. His eyes took a few moments to adjust before he could ma
ke an assessment.
The deep orange glow of scattered clouds had all but vanished, replaced by a thick cerulean blue ribbon above the trees. He could see the two-story barn against the deep blue horizon, but only because he knew what he was looking for. Ed would need his help if they ran into trouble. Alex lowered the goggles, spotting something in the distance on the other side of the intersection.
“Faster, Ed. I’m seeing something farther down Runway Road,” said Alex.
“Past the intersection?”
“Yeah. We need to beat them to the turn,” said Alex, feeling the SUV respond to the accelerator.
“Faster. I’ll let you know when to slow for the turn,” said Alex.
“I’m pushing fifty-five,” said Ed.
Alex squinted at the green image. The horizon light washed out the distance view, affecting the long-range clarity of the picture. Something was in the middle of the road, growing larger. Had to be a vehicle. It looked like they’d beat it to the intersection.
“Start to slow down,” said Alex. “Can you see the barn?”
“I got it,” said Ed, decelerating the SUV.
“Take the turn as fast as you can.”
“Right,” mumbled Ed.
Alex wondered if the other vehicle would slow. He couldn’t tell what it was doing at this distance, without magnified optics. The night-vision image sharpened, unveiling a substantial vehicle with a figure leaning out of the passenger side window. A bright green laser appeared, extending from the passenger to the hood of their SUV. Without hesitating, he grabbed the steering wheel and jerked it left.
Ed tightened his grip on the wheel and countered Alex’s move, keeping them from crashing off the road. Instead of careening wildly into a telephone pole or mailbox, the SUV instantly shifted lanes as red-hot tracers passed down the left side of the vehicle. Ignoring the screams and chaos in the SUV’s cabin, Alex raised his rifle and fired an extended burst through the windshield at the oncoming vehicle.
The bullets created a tight pattern of holes in the safety glass, surrounded by compounded spider cracks that partially obscured his view of the approaching intersection. The green laser went wild, indicating his bullets had the desired effect. With the barn rapidly approaching, he shifted his rifle into the passenger side window, triggering the infrared laser attached to the HK416’s hand guard.
“Contact, right side!” he yelled, feeling the SUV speed into the turn instead of slowing.
As the car turned, the threat crystallized. A staggered column of two pickup trucks was less than fifty feet from the intersection, one with bullet holes peppered across its windshield. Now he understood why Ed had gunned the engine. The trucks would barely miss slamming into them. Alex aligned the green laser with the windshield of the lead vehicle and pressed the trigger, firing a short burst. Ryan unleashed a fully automatic barrage of bullets.
The lead vehicle swerved left in a cascade of sparks as their bullets struck the metal chassis and windshield. The pickup truck slammed into a utility pole ten feet from the intersection, abruptly stopping and ejecting two passengers through the bullet-riddled windshield. The second truck barreled forward, gunfire exploding behind its windshield. Sharp cracks followed by hollow metallic pops broke through the sound of the SUV’s screeching tires, and their vehicle fishtailed onto New Boston Road.
The SUV straightened and accelerated, Ed desperately trying to put some distance between their car and the team sent to kill them. Alex reloaded and twisted in his seat, seeing that Ryan and Charlie had already braced their rifles against the rear seats’ headrests, aiming through the shattered rear window. Ryan reloaded while Charlie fired single shots through his night-vision scope at the pursuing truck.
A blinding light caused Alex to squeeze his eyes shut, followed by a staccato rhythm of snaps and metal thunks. He flipped up his NVGs to see two brilliant headlights bearing down on them.
“Damn it!” yelled Charlie, firing wildly at the truck.
A few ricochets zipped through the SUV cabin; one striking the windshield in front of Ed.
“What the fuck is happening back there?” asked Ed, slinking as low as possible in his seat.
“It’s under control,” said Ryan, firing a long burst at the truck and knocking out the passenger-side headlight.
The pickup swerved briefly, but resumed the chase, accelerating toward them at ramming speed.
“Doesn’t sound like it!” yelled Ed.
Another fusillade of bullets struck the SUV, ripping through the cabin. Alex’s headrest crumpled when a round snapped one of the posts holding it in position. Another projectile hit the top corner of Ed’s seat, passing through the fabric and smashing the digital dashboard display. Ryan and Charlie ducked below the tops of their seats, riding out the barrage. Anticipating a possible problem, they had secured a single layer of sandbags, reinforced by sheet metal, behind the back row of seats. The barrier prevented bullets from penetrating the backs of the seats, but did nothing about the bullets flying through the top half of the SUV’s interior.
Before either of them rose to fire, the pickup truck slammed into the back of the SUV, pushing them forward. Alex was unexpectedly thrown against the seatbelt, momentarily stunned by the blow. Ed gunned the engine, breaking them free of the metal battering ram. Another salvo of bullets hit the SUV, striking from a high angle and drilling through the rear cargo compartment roof.
“Son of a bitch!” Charlie cried out.
Alex turned his head to see a bloody hand illuminated in the pickup’s single high beam.
Enough of this shit.
He unbuckled his seatbelt and turned in his seat, leaning against the passenger-side dashboard. Keeping the rifle barrel clear of his son’s head, he aimed through the mini-reflex sight mounted to his ACOG scope and switched to semiautomatic.
“All guns fire in three, two—”
“Wait! I’m not ready!” said Ed.
“Fire!” screamed Alex, pressing the trigger.
He fired repeatedly above the glaring headlight, hoping to hit the windshield. Ryan’s muzzle blast filled the rear compartment, illuminating their cabin as he emptied a thirty-round magazine at the truck. Alex kept firing until his rifle clicked empty. By the time Charlie started to fire again, the pickup truck had disappeared.
“Where is it?” yelled Charlie.
“Veered off the road,” said Alex.
“I think it rolled to a stop,” said Ryan. “It was too dark to tell for sure.”
“But you think it stopped?” asked Alex.
“I’m pretty sure. It definitely slowed down.”
“Jesus Christ!” said Ed, rising a few inches in his seat.
“Jesus Christ is right. He’s the only reason none of us took one to the head,” said Charlie.
“I think you deflected one with your hand,” answered Alex.
“Yeah, it’s a little fucked up,” said Charlie, holding his bloodied hand between the front headrests. “Look at this thing.”
Ed turned his head, hitting the mangled hand with his right cheek.
“Careful!” howled Charlie. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Well, don’t stick your fucking hand in my face. What did you expect?”
“I didn’t expect you to ram my hand with your head,” countered Charlie.
“All right! Cut it out!” yelled Alex. “Reload your rifles.”
He lowered the night-vision goggles and scanned the darkness around the vehicle. Nothing ahead or behind them. New Boston Road was a straight shot to Route 2. No crossroads, just houses. They needed to get to Route 2 before any more paramilitaries responded. The absence of crossroads on New Boston Road could work against them.
“Ryan, can you wrap Charlie’s hand so he can still use it?”
“Got it,” said Ryan, digging around for the medical kit.
“I don’t think that was the last of the shooting for tonight,” said Alex, checking the road again.
“Faster?” Ed aske
d.
“Faster,” said Alex, pulling a roadmap out of the glove box.
He wanted to check on alternate routes to the turnpike in case they ran into another hostile team.
Chapter 33
Dexter, Maine
Jerold Berkoff pinched the bridge of his nose and tried the call again. His ROTAC display flashed “attempting to connect.” He’d give it ten seconds before reaching out to Medina. The team dispatched to check on the storage site had been located in an empty house less than five minutes away. They should have reported by now, unless something bigger was in play. Medina had certainly hinted at the possibility.
Putting all of his units on “ready alert” meant one of two things: Either the state government had discovered the facility or the military units attached to the RRZ were sniffing around where they didn’t belong. Both scenarios threatened to kill the element of surprise he needed, which was critical to his battalion’s success. He had too many groups going in too many directions to fight against an alerted enemy. Pre-staging key assault units made more sense given the circumstances.
“Damnit,” he hissed, seeing no change to the ROTAC display. “McKenzie?” he said, causing a stir in the brightly lit trailer.
A bearded man wearing tan cargo pants, a MultiCam combat shirt, and a black and white checkered shemagh spun his stool to face Berkoff.
“Sir?” asked the contractor.
Berkoff considered issuing the order without Medina’s permission, but killed the thought. He wanted this operation to go as smoothly as possible, and pissing off an RRZ administrator wouldn’t contribute to that plan. As much as he enjoyed commanding a Counter Insurgency Battalion, Berkoff wanted a more stable position, preferably in a comfortable position within one of the RRZs. If he overstepped his authority here, regardless of the outcome, he could cross New England North off his list, along with the rest of the RRZs on the East Coast. Medina struck him as a petty, spiteful bitch.
Dispatches Page 17