“Damn,” T-Ball said. Jazz was speechless.
On the table in front of them were approximately one hundred blocks of C-4 plastic explosive. Some were wrapped in olive drab plastic with yellow-stenciled writing. Others had been opened, looking like long white bars of soap. Some were even molded like silly putty into indiscernible shapes.
T-Ball set down the response pack and removed the digital camera.
“Step back, LT.”
The camera beeped as he took digital stills of the workbench.
“What’s in the box, sir?”
Jazz stepped closer and peered into a cardboard box on the right side of the bench. Inside were smaller boxes the size and shape used for crayons. Jazz looked to the right and saw another longer workbench that ran the entire length of the far wall.
“There’s more shit over there.”
“Yeah, but what’s in that box there?”
Jazz opened one of the crayon boxes.
“Holy Shit.”
“What’s that, sir?”
“Electric blasting caps.”
“Damn, these guys are not playing around, C-4 and military initiators. Tell ya what, sir, don’t move anything else. This is like ATF and FBI stuff.”
“Yeah, let’s take some photos, conduct a good recon, draw a better map for these guys and get out.”
“Okay, LT. What’s on that other bench?”
Jazz looked closely at the components on the long workbench.
“I don’t know, T-Ball. Internal components of some kind. What do you think?”
T-Ball stepped next to his lieutenant.
“Sir, those are proximity fuzes.”
Something was wrong; Gabriel sensed it. First he noticed several police cars passed him within five miles of the house. One of them was an unmarked car. From a long distance away he could look over the fields and observe his house. This was one of the features that helped him in selecting this home.
At the intersection for his street he turned right instead of left. In his rear view mirror he noticed that his neighbor’s driveway had more police vehicles in it. He was caught.
He cursed to himself, but tried to remain calm.
How the hell did they find me?
Gabriel grabbed a cell phone from the passenger seat in his pickup.
“Hello.”
“Do you guys have a copy of ‘When Harry Met Sally?’”
“Uh, wrong number buddy. This ain’t a video store.”
“Sorry.”
Gabriel hung up. The verbal exchange was a secret code developed in case their phones were tapped. Dean’s response told Gabriel that he was not compromised.
Twenty minutes later he drove by his friend’s home. Gabriel noted that the garage door was open with the lights on. He drove around the block before pulling into the driveway. Dean was waiting for him there.
“I don’t know what happened!” he said slamming the door of his truck.
“I do.”
“Was it San Diego? I’ve been racking my brain and I cannot come up with anything there.”
“No. We did San Diego by the book.”
“It’s our supplier then. He’s breaking with us, called in an anonymous tip or something...”
“No, it’s not that either. After all, he doesn’t know where you live—or does he?”
“Uh, no he doesn’t.”
“Okay then. I am pretty sure that this is just a case of bad luck.”
“How do you know?”
Dean surveyed the street.
“Let’s go inside,” he said putting his arm around Gabriel’s shoulder. “Let’s get you a beer, chill out, and I will tell you what happened.”
Gabriel sat down on the couch in the basement. His friend remained standing.
“After you called, I did like we planned, like Nasih taught us. The missus was on the phone shaking her head at me with each call.”
“Nobody else had been compromised.”
“Exactly. Meanwhile I was listening to the scanner. It was the old woman.”
“What? She knows?”
“No, they think it’s her house.”
“What!”
“She went over there today like she still owns the place...”
“I bought it from her a year ago!”
“I know, I know. Point is she’s crazy. She went over there, poked around and then called them. First a patrolman goes in with her...”
“Thinking it’s her place...”
“Right, thinking it’s her place that she is renting to someone, because that’s what she told ‘em. He finds the shit in the basement.”
“So they need a warrant right? It is illegal now. Illegal search and seizure.”
“Idiot. We can beat them in court but it doesn’t change the fact that you’re compromised.”
“Shit!”
“Ah yes, now it is really dawning on you.”
“What do we do now?”
“Well, I’ve got a few of our closest friends coming over here. We’ll figure something out.”
“I have a better idea. Let’s call Nasih.”
An hour later Jazz was back in the command center while he waited for Harmon to pick up the line. Suddenly he realized that he had not called Melanie.
“Shit,” he said under his breath.
“EOD Mobile Unit Six. Can I help you, sir?”
“Harmon.”
“Jazz, what’s up?”
“I’m in some heavy duty shit here.”
“Really, whatcha got?”
“Military C-4, blasting caps, and a full up assembly line for building IEDs.”
“You mean like a kitchen?”
“No, I’m talking Henry Ford stuff. We got several completed IEDs, obviously constructed the same. Each one has an opaque plastic housing.”
“Proximity fuzing.”
“Exactly.”
“How many?”
“About twenty complete, but the material for many more.”
“What’s the net explosive weight?”
“Hundreds of pounds.”
“Damn.”
“We gotta get ATF, FBI, and NCIS involved now. Someone should send a message to the EOD Technology Division.
“TECHDIV... got it,” replied Harmon
“I intend to get the Army EOD unit in San Antonio here. We do not have the storage or demo range to handle this stuff.”
“Wow. I’m calling Captain Solarsky. He’ll let me know what he wants to do.”
“Right. I’ll recommend to the local police here on scene to get ATF and FBI involved.”
“Roger, call you later,” said Harmon.
Jazz immediately dialed home. After one ring Mel picked up.
“Where the hell are you! I’ve been worried sick!”
“Sorry, hon, I...”
“Is T-Ball with you?”
“Yes.”
“Damnit, Jazz, you always call! What’s going on? Where are you?”
“I’m on a call in San Patricio County.”
“What happened?”
“Some guy has got military explosives in his house.”
“Oh, God...”
“Hon, I’m fine. This guy just has it stored in his basement. The police called us because they recognized it as military. We’re just advising them.”
“When will you be home?”
“I don’t know.”
“Fine. I’m going to bed.”
“I love you.”
“Yeah, I love you too,” Melanie said as she hung up.
Jazz tossed the phone to T-Ball. “Call home.”
He turned and walked over to Detective Iglesias.
“What do you recommend, Lieutenant?”
“Well, I think you guys need to get ATF and FBI involved. We’ll also call the Army EOD unit in San Antonio and have them perform the recovery and disposal since the material is military.”
T-Ball handed the cell phone back to Jazz. “LT, CO,” he said.
; Jazz paused a moment to gather his thoughts then held the phone to his ear.
“Good evening, sir.”
“I’ve just talked with Harmon,” Solarsky began, “but I want you to give me a run down of what has happened to now.”
Jazz expected this. He provided his commanding officer with a lengthy narrative. Solarsky remained silent.
“Any questions, sir?”
There was a pause.
“No. Good job. Sounds like you and Petty Officer Ball have done everything correctly. Here’s what we’re going to do now. You call San Antonio. Let the cops there call FBI and ATF. Provide the on scene commander with your contact information so they can get a hold of you. At this point your recommendation should be for them to wait for higher authority.”
“Roger that, sir.”
“Do you have the phone number for the Army guys in San Antonio?”
“Yes, sir. It’s in my IED response SOP.”
“What is the name of their unit again?”
“The 797th Ordnance Company, sir.”
It was 1:30 a.m. when Jazz pulled in the driveway. He told T-Ball not to come into work the next day; he also planned to skip.
Jazz tried to be silent as he entered the house. Melanie was in the living room, nursing the baby. She looked both exhausted and upset.
Jazz set his backpack on the ground and walked over to her.
“Hon, I’m sorry,” he said leaning over to kiss her. “I should have known better... I know I should have called sooner. I guess I got excited.”
“Yeah, well for you it’s excitement, for me it’s frightening,” Melanie sobbed.
“Oh, Mel, don’t... really it was not that big of a deal.”
“I thought you were dead.”
“What?”
“When you didn’t come home I really thought that you had a diving illness. I was sure that after you called me you keeled over with an embolism or something.”
“Hon, that could never be... it’s been over twenty four hours since...”
“That doesn’t matter to me!”
Melanie choked back some tears and held her breath a moment.
“I could not even gather the courage to call your cell phone. I had visions of you in a recompression chamber in Corpus Christi with people trying to bring you back to life.”
“Hon, I’m sorry, I’m really sorry.”
“Maybe the Admiral was right. Sometimes I wish you were still a SWO.”
“We both hated that life.”
“Yeah? Well, at least I knew you were coming home every night. If you were late I could call the ship and get a hold of you.”
“Mel, you are right. But this whole thing would have been prevented if I called. You believe me when I said that this incident was no big deal right?”
“I do.”
“Well, if I had called, you never would have had the worries that I was hurt or anything. I learned a lesson, okay.”
Melanie stood.
“The baby is done, let me put her back to bed.”
Dinner was still on the table. As he sat down to eat, Melanie came into the kitchen. She looked as if she were sleepwalking. She leaned over and kissed him on the forehead, then sat down across from him.
“Jazz, you are forgiven. But you need to know that I was really, really scared. Then after you called, I just got angry. I was pissed because it has been hard without you gone during that exercise, then I made this great dinner and you got called away before you could even come home.”
“I know, I know. I’m sorry, hon.”
Jazz ate in silence for a few moments. Finally Melanie spoke again.
“So, tell me what happened?”
“Just as I said on the phone, some nut had a basement full of military explosives.”
“Was it dangerous?”
“Nah, T-Ball and I just identified what it was for them. Army guys are coming down to pick it up tomorrow... I mean today.”
“Are you going in tomorrow?”
“Nope.”
SEVENTEEN
Silver
Dean drove the Texas Highway Patrol cruiser that the group bought at a surplus auction. He and Gabriel even had on the proper uniform of the THP. Nasih sat in back, posing as a prisoner.
For Gabriel, everything changed now. He did not fully comprehend it when his comrade tried to point it out in the garage. It was not until Nasih directed him to kill the soldiers that he realized he was finally no longer a member of society.
Nasih knew this was the moment to push his American pupil over the edge.
“Gabriel, you do it,” Nasih said from the back seat. “You have to go into hiding anyway.”
Gabriel did not hesitate, using three rounds each to be sure, first on the armed one standing, then on the second one hunched over repairing the tire. They never even had the chance to call out or say, “Just a flat tire, officer.”
“Now put them back in the vehicle, quickly,” Nasih said.
The two men set about their task. Dean vomited when he saw the contents of the first soldier’s head, as they dragged him toward the driver side door.
“It is truly in your heart, Gabriel. I always knew that you were the strong one, but you are more ready for this business than I thought. I expected you to hesitate,” said Nasih.
“I knew there was no point,” Gabriel replied. “I realized that we—that I, have come to a point. It was decision time.”
He looked at the gun before putting it back in his holster. “And my decision was made for me when that senile old woman led the cops into my house.”
“Do not fret, my friend. I have lived this life many years now. It is hard, but it is rewarding.”
“Everything is in place,” said Dean. “I think we are ready for the test.”
“Let’s hope it works,” said Gabriel.
“If not, it is no matter,” said Nasih. “Soon enough they will figure out who you are, but you will now disappear. If you followed my counsel, nobody else will be identified. Making this appear as an accident really only makes it easier for the authorities. They will probably figure it out anyway. An accident removes political pressure for them to pursue it vigorously. Gabriel will simply be a... what’s your word? A ‘wacko’ who slipped away. Is the demolition in place then?”
“Yes,” confirmed Dean.
“Well then let’s do it. I have a date at Riverwalk in an hour.”
It was after noon the next day when Melanie woke her husband up.
“Jazz, wake up, honey.”
“What?”
She handed him the portable phone. “Chief Keating. He said I should wake you.”
Jazz sat up and took the phone.
“What’s up, Chief?”
“Sir, you need to come in.”
“Did we get another call?”
“Sort of, sir. It’s the bubbas from San Antone, from the 797th... they’re dead.”
“What!”
“The truck blew up on their trip north. We’re about to get a lot of questions. The base CDO called me, apparently there are a bunch of cops on their way over here to ask us questions we don’t wanna answer.”
“Fuck. Call the Mobile Unit CDO. I’ll get T-Ball.”
Twenty minutes later Jazz was in the shop. Chief Keating looked up as he entered the office.
“Here he is, Captain, I’m gonna put ya on hold a second.”
Jazz sat at his desk.
“CO. He wants to know details on what went down at the ranch house, button two.”
He hit the flashing light on his phone.
“Lieutenant Jascinski, sir.”
“Jazz, what the fuck is going on?”
“Sir, I don’t know.”
“Well I need answers damnit! I got everyone from the CNO on down calling me asking ‘What the fuck?’”
“Sir, I hate to sound like Pontius Pilate, but we did nothing to disturb the explosives. We turned everything over to CCPD and were gone before the Army guys were even the
re.”
“What? You did not turn it over to the Army?”
“Uh, no, sir. I made the appropriate recommendations and departed.”
“You dumb Polack, I told you to wait until the Army arrived to ensure a complete and thorough turnover!”
“Sir, that was not my understanding. Once we made our recommendations there was no value in remaining there. The material was in a stable condition.”
“There were IEDs there correct?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You call that ‘stable?’”
“Should I have conducted a render safe procedure, sir? My understanding of our charter here is that anything above the high water mark I merely identify and advise. I only perform render safe procedures in extremis. This was not an extremis situation. The shit was just sitting there.”
“You should have conducted a turnover with the 797th.”
“Sir, if they can’t...”
“The point, Lieutenant, is that they’re dead. They are fucking charred black remains on the highway and you are the last remaining competent authority who was on scene!”
“Yes, sir.”
“You’re hosed, Lieutenant. You are about to be visited by the FBI. Answer their questions then call me back. I expect your crab in the mail by sundown.”
Solarsky hung up. Jazz held onto the phone a moment then replaced it.
It was obvious that Keating knew the general tone of the discussion with the CO.
“Sir, don’t worry. I’m sure this is going to work out.”
“He has a point, Chief. Two men are dead and I’m the only supposedly competent guy left standing.”
“Sir, it is common knowledge that how we respond in town is hosed up. You are going to be fine. Those Army guys, rest their souls whoever they were, made a mistake. They smoked in the vehicle, or didn’t secure the stuff correctly. I mean, what were you gonna do, tell them how to pack their truck? They were EOD just like you and me. They knew what to do; they knew the risks.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Jazz saw a San Patricio Police cruiser pull into the parking lot. Just then T-Ball arrived.
“Hey, sir. Hi, Chief. Did you see the cops behind me?”
“Yeah. We’ll do this in the conference room,” answered Jazz.
“Anything you want me to know before they step in the door?”
“Just tell it like it is, T-Ball.”
“Sir, this is some scary shit.”
Proximity: A Novel of the Navy's Elite Bomb Squad Page 13