by David Spell
Fleming and Smith planned to hike in under the cover of darkness and conduct a surveillance of the site. Their GPS indicated that they were there. Andy turned the SUV onto a dirt drive that led off of Georgia Highway 136. The turnoff was a short dead end where people had dumped plastic bags of trash, appliances, and yard debris. There were no street lights or any homes nearby. Their vehicle was hidden from sight from the road.
The men exited the Suburban, stretched, and began to put on all of their equipment. The aroma of the trash all around them assailed their nostrils. The silence of the night was only broken by the two warriors going through the same rituals that they had performed hundreds of times before. They applied cammo makeup to their faces, checked their weapons for a second and third time, verified that their radios were working, and then activated their hand-held GPS devices, pre-programed with the coordinates for the suspected training camp. It was a hike of almost two miles through the woods.
"You sure you're up to this, Andy?" Scotty, the former Army Ranger, asked, smiling.
"Big Boy, I can keep up with you any day of the week," the former Marine special operator answered, also smiling.
There was no traffic this time of morning and the federal officers crossed to the other side of Highway 136 and slipped into the woods. They used their flashlights and kept a fast pace for the first mile. After that, they went into patrol mode and moved slowly and deliberately for the second mile.
In other settings, they would be equipped with night vision goggles but that was a piece of equipment that they did not have. Most of their other operations had been during the day. Since the biggest part of the action they had been involved in as CDC officers was against zombies, they worked during daylight hours. Now, they both wished that they had night vision capability.
When they got close to their target location, Scotty set up on an incline a hundred yards away from the two buildings. He could see the front of the structures and the gravel parking area. Nine vehicles were parked there, all on the front side of the buildings. Smith had not had many opportunities to utilize his Ranger sniper skills as a CDC officer. He quietly pulled a few branches up next to him to break up his outline for anyone who might look in his direction later.
Andy moved two hundred yards farther down the ridge, overlooking the rear of the location. They both had earpieces in and quietly conducted another radio check. The sky was just starting to lighten up and the woods slowly came to life around them.
At 0655 hours, Andy watched four Middle Eastern-looking males step out of the rear door, stretching and talking quietly. They all walked to the edge of the small gravel parking area in the rear and urinated. A few minutes later, three other dark-skinned young men repeated the same procedure on the edge of the front parking lot.
Fleming and Smith noticed that all of the men were wearing the long white traditional Muslim garment. Scotty couldn't help but think of the thawb as a nightgown. They were also wearing a taqiyah, the Islamic skull cap.
Smith pushed the transmit button on his radio. "Why are they dressed up so early in the morning?" he quietly asked Fleming.
"I bet they're about to have their morning prayers," came the answer.
Sure enough, the men went back inside and the sound of Arabic chanting from many voices soon was heard from the open windows. After ten minutes, only one voice was heard, also speaking in Arabic. Andy, who had had multiple deployments to the Middle East, understood some of what he was hearing.
"I'm going to ease down the ridge, a little closer to the house to try and listen," Andy told Scotty over the radio. "Move down this way a hundred yards so you can cover me. I'm going to set up behind that biggest tree at the left corner of the rear parking area."
"10-4"
Smith began slithering through the woods. Fleming had already begun moving from his perch down to the edge of the wooded area. The undergrowth was very thick here. That made it uncomfortable to maneuver through but provided the concealment that Andy needed.
The former SpecOp Marine stopped at the edge of the woods and crouched behind a large tree. He was only forty yards from the building where the men were having their service. Scotty repositioned himself so he could cover the rear of the building. Even with the optics on his rifle, he could not see Andy, hidden in the foliage below.
The rear door of the building opened and a man strode purposefully down the steps and over to the edge of the gravel. He stopped and relieved himself, facing Fleming's tree. Smith had the red cross in his EOTech sight on the back of the man's head. If the suspected terrorist saw Andy, Scotty would have to decide whether or not to kill him. Smith did not see a weapon on the Muslim but he also did not want him shouting an alarm. The CDC agent continued to cover him but knew he could not shoot unless he presented a threat to Andy or himself.
After thirty seconds, the man finished his business and looked around. No one had followed him outside. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes, shook one out and lit it. He stepped off the gravel and walked to the edge of the woods in the direction of Andy. Scotty had his finger on the trigger still ready to fire if the guy pulled a weapon. The smoker peered into the trees as he finished his cigarette. He finally flicked the butt into the foliage and turned around, walking back into the building.
Smith realized he had been holding his breath. Ten minutes later, Fleming's voice came through his earpiece. "I'm back up on the ridge. I was able to hear a lot of the sermon and it sounds like he's prepping these guys to go on suicide missions for Allah. Stay where you're at and I'll come to you."
A few minutes later Andy appeared next to his teammate. He put his mouth to Scotty's ear and said in a low voice, "The imam, or whoever was talking, was getting them pumped up about becoming martyrs and striking a blow against the Great Satan. He said that their attacks would be an important part of this Holy War and that their families would honor their memories forever."
"So, you want to let's go kill 'em all?" Smith whispered. "I mean, if they want to become martyrs, I don't want to hold them back. And, out here in the middle of nowhere is much better than downtown."
Andy nodded. "For sure, but I don't think we can do that. Just talking about becoming a martyr isn't illegal in America and we're cops now."
The big man sighed. "Right. How do you want to handle it, then?"
"Let me check in with the boss and see if there are any other assets we can pull in. I think you and me could take them all out if we needed to. Easy. But, if they go mobile, it'll be another story."
#
Gilmer County, North Georgia, Friday, 0840 hours
Andy slipped a little deeper into the woods to call Chuck. One of the things that Fleming appreciated about McCain's leadership was that he was not afraid to make a decision. After hearing his team leader's assessment of the situation, Chuck's instructions had been clear.
"Andy, you're right. We can't shoot these people just for talking about becoming martyrs. If you guys see any evidence to back up what they're saying, though, deal with it. If you see any weapons, explosives, or if it looks like they're going to follow through on their threats, do everything you can to stop them.
"I trust you guys and we absolutely cannot have a repeat of the terror attacks that we've seen. Keep me in the loop and I'm going to have some local law enforcement back you up. I was getting ready to leave for the airport to fly up to be with Eddie's team but I'll put that on hold until I hear back from you."
At 0855 hours, the two CDC officers were lying side-by-side on the ridge, near Scotty's original spot, overlooking the buildings and the front parking area. The vehicles in the lot ranged from small to mid-size cars to SUVs to a pair of vans. Andy and Scotty were waiting and watching, softly discussing their options.
They had nixed the idea of having one of them run back through the woods to move their vehicle closer. There was no good place to put where it would be hidden. The driveway that led up to this compound was several hundred yards off of the main road. And, if things got ug
ly while one of them was gone, a lone officer, no matter how well trained, would be in over his head against the much larger number of terrorists.
The front door of the main building opened and Middle Eastern men started pouring into the parking lot. They seemed subdued with little talking among themselves. Most of them were carrying what looked like a white garment of some sort. Andy counted twenty-two men, all wearing the traditional Muslim clothing. As he looked through the magnifying optics on his rifle, he saw that only twenty of the men were holding the white object. Two older men began helping the younger men put the garment on.
"Dude, those are suicide vests," Fleming said out of the side of his mouth, as he recognized what was happening. "Looks like it's game on."
He and Smith had seen those on many occasions in the Middle East. On one mission, Andy and his MARSOC team had raided a home in which suicide vests were being manufactured. They looked just like what he was seeing today.
"I really love killing terrorists," Smith whispered, already plotting his shots. "Just say when."
Andy watched as the older men assisted the would-be martyrs in strapping on and arming the bomb-laden clothing, then covering their torsos with loose-hanging shirts. The officers decided to wait until everyone had their vests on. That would indicate more of an intention to use them. As soon as the twenty young men were suited up, they all paused to listen to one of their elders, who appeared to be sharing some parting words of wisdom.
"You start left and work to the right. I'll start right and work to the left," said Andy.
"Clear."
Fleming's first shot blew off the top of a young terrorist's head. His second pull of the trigger hit another in the temple. Scotty shot the far left bomber in the back of the head and then swung the muzzle slightly to get his second one with a round to the throat. Four down.
As the shooting began, mayhem ensued. Now, all the terrorists were moving, ducking, and yelling. The man who had been giving the speech crouched and ran to a nearby Nissan Altima. He reached into his pocket for his key fob, mashing a button and opening the trunk as he ducked behind it. He grabbed an AK-47 rifle and started firing blindly towards the wooded area on the other side of the parking lot, where he suspected the shots were coming from.
The federal officers shot three more of the terrorists before they started receiving return fire. As bullets started impacting trees and the ground around them they separated, Scotty going left and Andy going right, each man crawling twenty yards further along the ridge. The AK fire was not well-aimed and had not pinpointed them so they quickly set up in their new locations and continued picking off the terrorists.
Smith could see the shooter clearly from his new vantage point. He was still crouching behind the Altima and firing over the top of his car, in their general direction. The older terrorist realized he had been in one place for too long and stood up to run to a brown Dodge Caravan. Scotty put a 5.56mm round into AK man's chest and another into his head sending him sprawling onto the gravel.
Movement. A white mini-van and a black compact car were in motion, trying to get out of the kill zone. Scotty swung his rifle towards the vehicles racing down the dirt driveway. He got off one shot and then the entire parking lot erupted.
One of the martyrs turned and started running toward the main building they had all exited just moments ago. Andy fired and missed twice, trying to hit the running target. His third round caught him in the ribcage, setting off the vest in a powerful explosion and obliterating the young man. The front of the building collapsed and started to burn. The detonation ignited two more armed vests on the bodies of previously-shot terrorists and caused another, larger blast.
The second building, a large storage shed, was only twenty-five feet to the far side of the first building. As things and people started blowing up, the door and windows were blown inward. Without warning, the shed erupted in a fiery roar, sending its roof skyward and fiery debris outward. Several other detonations came from within the remains of this structure.
These multiple concussions triggered the vests on the terrorists who were still alive. As their bomb clothing went off, fuel tanks in the seven remaining parked cars ignited, sending several fireballs high into the sky. Car parts, body parts, and pieces of the two buildings rained down throughout the area. Both of the structures at the terrorist's training camp were destroyed. The larger building was on fire and the roof had completely caved in. The second building, the storage shed, was gone. The concrete slab and a pile of debris were all that was left.
At the first explosion, Scotty and Andy backed up over the edge of the ridge and buried their faces in the ground, keeping the top of their kevlar helmets towards the blast. As the detonations finally subsided, they looked at each other with stunned expressions and automatically reloaded their rifles. Then Scotty started laughing.
"That was awesome! Can we do it again?"
An hour and a half later, the Department of Homeland Security Blackhawk helicopter assigned to the Atlanta CDC team circled and then landed in an open field sixty yards from the blast site. Chuck, Luis, FBI Supervisory Special Agent Thomas Burns, Clean Up Crew supervisor Nancy Long, and two Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms agents got off. Andy and Scotty were there to greet them.
Burns had not made a very good impression on Scotty the last time the men had crossed paths. Today, though, Agent Burns shook both his and Andy's hands and congratulated them on a job well done. The FBI agent did not always approve of the way that the CDC did things but he could not argue with results. And these guys got results.
Luis greeted his friends by calling them some off-color names in Spanish. "Right. I see how it is. You guys wait until I get hurt and then you go out and kill a bunch of terrorists and blow a bunch of stuff up."
"Luis, chill, man," said Scotty. "There were only twenty-two of them. That was barely enough for me and Andy. You're going to have to find your own bad guys."
Behind them, the scene still burned and black smoke filled the air. It took almost forty-five minutes for the first volunteer firefighters to arrive. This was like nothing any of them had ever seen. One building was gutted and the other one was gone. Seven vehicles had exploded and burned up, leaving the smoking frames behind. And there were body parts scattered over a radius of a hundred and fifty yards.
The Gilmer County Sheriff's Department had sent a sergeant and a deputy. By the expression on their faces, this was clearly the biggest call that either of them had been on. Fleming had asked the deputies to go down to the end of the driveway to the main road and to keep reporters and nosey people out.
Andy and Scotty briefed Chuck and the other federal agents about what had happened. Fleming pointed out where he and Smith had been and talked about why they had done what they had done. They would give more detailed statements to the FBI later, but for now, Andy gave a brief overview of the incident.
"Based on the magnitude of the explosions," Fleming concluded, "it looks like the storage shed was where they kept their bomb-making supplies. I'm sure you ATF agents will be able to sort all that out once you start sifting through the debris."
There were a few questions from McCain, Burns, and the ATF. The older of the ATF agents asked Andy, "Did you challenge them before you started shooting? Did you even try to arrest them?"
Scotty's nostrils flared and his eyes immediately narrowed. He began thinking of all the ways he could express the stupidity of that question without losing his job. Before he could reply, however, FBI agent Burns stepped in front of him and Andy and spoke to the ATF man.
"These two officers just took out almost an entire terrorist cell. That's close to twenty suicide bombers that aren't going to be blowing themselves up in our malls, churches, schools, or anywhere else. We'll do our investigation and they'll give us statements but I don't want to hear any more questions like that until we start doing our interviews. There's no telling how many lives these CDC agents saved today."
Standing behind Burns, Smith
smiled at the ATF agent. "Yeah, what he said."
The other ATF agent spoke up. "I'm just curious to know how you knew this place was even here? Where did you get your intelligence?"
McCain answered that question. "We can't tell you that. Sorry. What we will say is that Agents Fleming and Smith were following up on a lead that turned out to be a good one. When they realized that they were training and arming suicide bombers here, they were forced to engage them to save the lives of innocent people. Agents Fleming and Smith caught them in the act of putting suicide vests on twenty young Middle Eastern males. At great risk to their own lives, and while being shot at by one of the terrorists, they engaged these suicide bombers, killing most of them. That will be how the story reads."
Burns looked at Chuck, almost spoke, and then just nodded his head. He had other agents, currently en route to the site, who would lead this investigation, along with input from these ATF fellows, and yet McCain had just told him how the report was going to read. And, Burns realized he was right. That was exactly what the report would say.
From what he had seen and heard, Chuck was an excellent cop and tactical leader. After Rebecca Johnson's murder and McCain's subsequent promotion, Burns wasn't sure if the big man was up to running the Atlanta office of the CDC Enforcement Unit. Thomas had felt that the former street cop did not have the political know-how to understand the way things ran in a large government institution like the CDC. The more he was around McCain, though, the more he realized just how intelligent and savvy he really was.
Chuck looked back at Andy. "How many do you think escaped?"
"It's hard to say. There were twenty bombers and two older guys who were helping them suit up. We probably shot ten outright before things starting blowing up. A white mini-van and a black compact car got away. Scotty and I both think two or three bombers and one of the older guys slipped out on us."