The Making of Blackwater Jack

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The Making of Blackwater Jack Page 15

by Roy F. Chandler


  “If I had known anything more than I explained back in the helicopter I would have reported it to the Provost Marshal while I was still enlisted, and my guess is that, if I had, Saltz would have spent a lot more of his time explaining why he sent us out damned near defenseless. I’d like to know that myself, Kalvin.”

  Jack could see the man’s features swelling, and he supposed that Kalvin wasn’t used to being on the receiving end of a verbal lacing, especially from one of his former Corporals. Well, he would hear more right now.

  Peripherally, Jack wondered that he felt so protected by Shooter Galloway’s presence, but he was. Without visible movement, Galloway’s aura had shifted from observing to threatening.

  Polombo had felt it, too, and he had turned to face Galloway more directly. The man named Groves, who had been the Sergeant that had also pumped him hard, was scratching a toe in the dirt as if personally mortified. How did Galloway do that, Jack wondered?

  He returned his attention to the former Lieutenant. “Look, Kalvin, you’ve no business up here in the hills. We’re all family in Perry County, and causing problems for one of us will give you real trouble from all of us.

  “Go back to the city. Tell Saltz that I have nothing more to tell him. Make him believe it, Kalvin; I don’t want anyone lurking in the shadows planning bad things for me. I am out of the Army forever. I am back in Perry County where I belong, and I won’t be coming out more than I have to, at least for some time.

  “Good by, Lieutenant, and please, do not come visiting again.”

  They watched Saltz’s men drive out and turn left toward the valley road.

  Shooter complained, “You didn’t even introduce me, Jack.”

  “I didn’t dare, Galloway. I was afraid you would take your hand out of your pocket to shake with one of those bad guys and Tony what’s-his-name would shoot both of us dead.”

  “Yeah, he’s a big-city thug from the old school, if I ever saw one. Imported by the Colonel, I suppose.”

  Jack was ready to walk, but Galloway stood, lost in thought, watching the empty road.

  “They’ll be back, Tim.”

  “Of course, they will, and there is nothing I can do about it. Until old Saltz finds his box, he’ll think I know something about it.”

  “They won’t be nice the next time they come.”

  Jack shrugged. “It’s a problem, but I will try to be better prepared next time.”

  “Now you are a gun slinger ready to out shoot the bad guys? I don’t remember you taking that three-credit course, Jack.”

  Jack pretended to bluster. “Hell, Galloway, I taught the subject at Blackwater. Don’t you remember?”

  “Humph, you had better have your diploma or something to hold up. How else are you going to scare them off?”

  “It isn’t even hard, Shooter. I will get a permit to carry concealed from the sheriff, and … “

  “What? You still don’t even have a current permit?” Galloway was scandalized.

  “I just got home, Shooter. I have had other things on my mind, remember?”

  “To hell with excuses, Jack. Go get your favorite pistol right now. Don’t even go to the barn without it, ever again. For now, we will prop your 12-gauge beside the door, but there are a hundred sniping positions for riflemen if Saltz wants you dead.

  “Lucky for you, he doesn’t. He thinks you have information, or at least he hopes you have. He won’t want you dead, but he won’t mind having you beaten to a pulp now and then.

  “You, old pal, are in trouble, so don’t take it lightly.”

  “I’m not taking it lightly, Shooter. The bad guys just left. I’ll start getting hard and mean thinking right now, but … “

  “No buts, Jack. Those three will have to get instructions from the big man, but they could just park down at the Mormon church and hike into your barn from the back.

  “They could be in there now, and what could you do if you walked in on them?”

  Jack caught Galloway’s eye. “Be careful, Shooter. If it gets that bad, I’ll probably call on you as backup when I go into their place in H-burg and drag Saltz out by the neck.”

  Galloway smiled grimly. “Sorry Jack. I’d like to help, but I have duties on another continent coming up. Just do your best. I’ll be rooting for you, old buddy.”

  Jack said, “Let’s get walking. I want to locate some strong fighting positions that could need preparing. I wouldn’t want to withstand a siege from my old chicken house.

  “Hey, Shooter, do you think I will need more than one box of ammo for this war?”

  Plowing through wild growth, Galloway noted, “You’re doing pretty well, Jack. You don’t limp most of the time, and even in this rough going your tin foot is under control.”

  “Yep, but by the time we’ve done a mile, my skin will be tender, so I’ve got to get a lot tougher.”

  “Why tougher? You planning to climb Everest or something?”

  “Not exactly, but I am not sure I want to discuss it even out here where there won’t be clever listening devices.”

  Galloway jerked to a halt. “Listening devices? What the hell are you talking about, Tim? I once knew a goofy character named Tom who thought the CIA was listening to his secrets, but what on earth do you know that anyone else would give a rap about? Unless?”

  “Yeah, Shooter, it’s the ‘unless’ we have discussed before.”

  Galloway was thrilled to hear it. “Damn, I knew there was something else, pardner, but why on earth haven’t you explained it to me long ago?”

  “Because what I am planning will happen a long time from now. Probably next year, if I can get it set up. Until Saltz’s thugs showed up just now, I preferred keeping everything to myself. Now I feel a bit pushed.

  “Look, Shooter. We have been friends almost forever, but what I am about to describe is illegal and about as difficult to accomplish as anything either of us could dream up.

  “No matter what you think about it, I am going to give my scheme a try. So I have been hesitant about exposing my secret thoughts to your often dim-witted ridicule.”

  “Dim-witted? Dim-witted? I can be many things, Mister Carlisle, but never dim-witted. Let me guess. You are going to locate Colonel Saltz’s abode and burn him out. Is it something like that?

  “God, you aren’t considering on sniping him from a high spot down in the city, are you?”

  Tim butted in. “See, exactly as I feared. You are full of goofy speculations, and you suppose that I might think the same. Forget all of that Harrisburg vengeance stuff. Good Lord, I am embarrassed.”

  “Well, if it isn’t something like that, General Patton, what is it?”

  Blackwater Jack settled his mind and began.

  He told the story, the real story, of the Humvee being bombed. He went through it all, and he spent special time on how and where he had hidden the infamous box, the XM3 Sniper rifle, his pack, and one almost empty water can.

  Shooter Galloway listened intently. When his friend had finished, Galloway said, “I expected it might be something like that, and all I can add is, damned good job!”

  Gratified by the positive response, Jack said, “Now to my plan.”

  Galloway rolled his eyes. “This is bound to be something I don’t want to hear.”

  “It is, but just shut up and listen through to the end.”

  Blackwater said, “As soon as I can get it all set up, I am going to go back to Afghanistan and recover everything in that hole.”

  Galloway groaned aloud.

  Jack ignored it. “I will carry extra .308 match grade ammunition, because I have only five rounds in the rifle’s magazine.

  “I intend to shoot the Sheik and, if possible, every full grown male in that ratty village. And that, Gabe, is my plan in its entirety.”

  Galloway was nodding as if in agreement.

  “Well, old friend, I’ve got to admit that you’ve got it all down in super-simplified form.”

  Shooter sighed in exasperation.
“I am, however, curious as to just how you are going to get to that part of Afghanistan, but I will leave that for later.

  “What I really would like to know is how you will get into those mountains?

  “Our President is winding down that war, our military has moved out of that particular base, in fact clear out of that area.

  “Therefore, there will be the minor matter of how you will keep your head on your shoulders if you ever showed up alone or with a few other white-eyes anywhere in that apart of Afghanistan.

  “I guess, those details will be kept hidden for a bit longer as well.”

  “Not from you, my never-doubting friend. I intend to go there as a rich American intent on hunting those mountains’ famous wild sheep.”

  Galloway was too stunned to answer. Not because of a ridiculous idea, but because Blackwater Jack had hit upon a possibility.

  Afghanistan was world-noted for the magnificence and rarity of its giant-horned mountain sheep.

  Afghan officials might leap at the arrival of well-heeled American hunters again working their mountains and again broadcasting their wealth as lavishly as they had in former, more peaceful times.

  The entire concept was wondrously simple, but it was gut churning in its dangers. Shooter Galloway wanted to hear more.

  17

  New Bloomfield, PA

  They sat as they often did, Jack thought, probably looking like conniving Elizabethan thugs from the movie Oliver on a military school bench.

  Although they appeared to be discussing the condition of the school’s Centennial Hall, Shooter Galloway was dissecting Blackwater Jack’s scheme to reenter Afghanistan, shoot to death a nest of villains, and escape unsuspected.

  Galloway exhaled dramatically. “So, you fly into where no airlines fly, you hunt big game where no one has hunted anything except humans for at least ten years, you shoot the men of a small village, and you somehow withdraw to safety without most of Afghanistan or the United States military noticing.”

  Shooter pretended astonishment. “I just love simple, finely-detailed plans like that, Jack. You could work in Washington D.C. Man, you could prosper in The White House’s Absurdity Section.”

  Jack pretended appreciation. “I just knew you would admire my scheme. Although, I confess that it needs a bit of detailing.”

  Galloway asked in all seriousness, “I don’t suppose there is any way I can convince you to set this all aside? You could let it simmer for a few more years until the area quieted a bit and hunters were actually going in and out of those mountains.”

  “Doubtful. The Sheik looked sort of old. He might die.”

  “And that wouldn’t suit?”

  “Of course not, Galloway. It’s called payback, and you ought to understand that appeal.”

  Galloway did understand revenge, in spades! He had worked diligently at similar vengeance for more than a decade, but, well, his payback had been possible. Blackwater’s? Maybe not.

  They sat while Galloway weighed options and let his friend stew.

  Finally he said, “All right, Jack. I understand your need where others might not. Darn few in this world think in terms of grabbing a Colt pistol and settling scores. Most look to the courts, and if the law can’t deliver, the case ends then and there. But, if your hunt turns out to be beyond reason, can you agree to let it go for now and look again later?”

  Blackwater stirred as if uncomfortable.

  “Look, Shooter, I’ve been more than clear. My foot is fine, and I am in shape for anything. Ex-Colonel Saltz is still putting his thugs into my sights. They show up smirking and sneering, still asking if I have something to tell them.

  “Saltz is now living here in the county, did you know that, Shooter? He’s built a fortress on top of the south ridge, and his conflicts with the law are leaking into our court system. He is like poison gas. It just seeps in barely noticed until it is too late.”

  “I want it all, Galloway. Just as you wanted all of the Elder men, not just Boxer.”

  Yeah, Shooter Galloway understood the feeling, but …?

  Jack added, “I didn’t even like Lieutenant Gold or Sergeant First Class Swartz. They were Saltz’s creatures, but they were American soldiers following a superior’s orders, and for that they get pissed on and forgotten? I don’t think so.

  “I’m not seeking reasons for not digging that ancient rat out of his burrow. I’m searching for ways to get it done. If you have useful ideas, I’d like to hear them, but I’m not hunting escape hatches. All I need help with is getting into the general area. I can manage the rest.”

  Silence again reigned.

  Galloway broke the silence. “First of all, you can’t go in as a hunter. You will never get permission to hunt. Forget that idea.”

  “So, I’ll find another way.”

  “Crap, Carlisle, you can look for another way, but you won’t find one.”

  Galloway waited, allowing Jack to suffer.

  Then he said, “Of course, if you would like to hear it, I have in mind a possibility that doesn’t rely on Divine Intervention.”

  Jack’s head snapped up. “Of course I want to hear. Have you had this idea all along, or did you just discover it?”

  Galloway dragged it out. “I am a man of vast knowledge, Jack. It happens that during one of my in-depth studies of ancient civilizations, I … “

  Blackwater groaned aloud.

  Galloway continued, “I noted that eons ago, that part of Afghanistan boasted a civilization a bit advanced for the times. Tin was found locally, and to make bronze, tin was needed.”

  Jack glared at his friend. “You must have been great telling deer hunting stories. You can drag the simplest thing out for an eternity. What is your plan, Galloway? If you even have one.”

  Shooter sighed. “Control your impatience. It’s archeology. You might get in as a certified and accredited archeologist researching old ruins, mining, and, well, stuff like that.

  “Authorities always have a weakness for harmless coots poking into ruins, especially if they bring American dollars with them. It just might be possible … “

  Jack was instantly enthusiastic. “Damn, you are worth something after all, Galloway.”

  He was on his feet and ready to go somewhere, anywhere probably. Just to get started.

  “You are right. As an academic, I wouldn’t even need to carry a gun going in. That would make me look really innocent and grossly stupid, but it would help. Once in, I will … “

  “Jack, you are a sap!” Galloway faked a sneer. “You are so pathetically tunnel visioned that if I suggested going in by jet pack or hot air balloon, you would shout ‘Let’s go.’”

  Galloway sighed dramatically. “I would do the job myself before I would allow a know-nothing like you to pretend to be some sort of secret agent. Cripes, Jack, you’ve never crossed a border without Army Orders. You don’t speak any of the languages you might encounter, and you …” Shooter gave up describing his friend’s shortcomings.

  “If it turns out that you really must go into those mountains to recover your mysterious box—that probably contains only Saltz’s memoirs, I am your only possibility. I do have a way to get you in and out again, but Timmy, it will cost you big money.”

  “How much money, Galloway, and cut out the Timmy stuff. I’m trying to feel like a bona fide 007 and a half.”

  “I can’t be sure, but I would estimate that once you are in country, you will need at least one hundred thousand dollars.”

  “Hey, Shooter, I don’t want to buy Afghanistan!” Blackwater was on his feet gesturing furiously. “I just want to get set down and picked up, one time each way.”

  Galloway also stood. “You won’t get to Afghanistan and back home free, Jack, but I have that pretty well worked out, I think. Once I firm everything up, you can decide if you really want to waste serious money and risk your life over a box full of dirty pictures or something.”

  Jack remained adamant. “If I can raise the money, I will
go. Don’t get to doubting that part, Shooter.”

  “OK, let’s not plan more right now. As usual, we can ease down to Mama’s Pizza. You will buy, of course, and we will plan a bit more, just in case you really do intend to do something as asinine and as pauperizing as going back to Afghanistan to shoot people.

  “But Jack, don’t fill your canteen just yet. You should train harder before your fake foot will be ready to hit real mountains, and we don’t know for sure that anyone foreign will be allowed in that area. If not, it will cost a lot more to smuggle you in.”

  Jack was impatient. “You’re not scaring me off, Galloway. Let’s get going.”

  They began walking, and Jack chose to change the subject.

  “Hey, Shooter, now would be a good time for you to explain, in the detail you love so much, just how you happen to know so much about the area of the world I am talking about. You always bob and weave, and in the end I learn nothing. For once, speak with a single tongue, if you can.

  “What is it that you do that takes you to such places, anyway? I could use an amusing story that will take my mind off the mobsters that are probably lurking along Carlisle Street waiting to put a few bullets through my tender body.”

  Shooter smiled and offered, “Hmm, those guys are something to consider. I’ll just walk a few steps behind you and talk real loud, Blackwater. I don’t want to get caught in a crossfire.”

  — — —

  Shooter began, but Jack interrupted.

  “I’ve seen that long black car before.”

  “What car?”

  “Right there, parked alongside the pharmacy.”

  Shooter looked. “So it’s a black car. What about it? Nice machine, I’ll admit, but mileage will be lousy.”

  “You remember, that’s the car those three thugs fronting Colonel Saltz usually drive.”

  “Hmm, I wonder where they are lurking? Do you see them anywhere?”

  “Nope, but the car didn’t drive itself. You heeled?”

  “Of course. Why aren’t you? But there won’t be a firefight on the town square. If those thugs are here, they will just be showing the flag, sort of. Letting you know that they haven’t forgotten.”

 

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