Reb's Revenge (Reb Rogers Book 1)

by J B Black

  “Wow, Reb, you’ve really been busy while I’ve been gone,” Honey said. “I’m impressed, this is a hell of a nice setup.”

  “I was hoping you’d like it,” Reb said.

  After they unloaded all of the gear from the back of the ATV and set it out on either the workbench or the shooting bench—in the case of the Barrett and its accessories—Reb picked up the smaller of the gift wrapped boxes and handed it to Honey. “Here, open this one first.”

  Honey wasted no time in ripping the wrapping paper from the box. She took the case with the pistol and the package with the holster out of the box and placed them on the workbench. She opened the case containing the pistol first and looked inside. “Oh, Reb, it’s a real beauty.”

  Honey took her new pistol out of the case, held it out in front of her in a two-handed stance, and aimed it at one of the target stands. She lowered the pistol and turned to Reb. “It’s a perfect fit for my hand.”

  “I was hoping it would be a good fit for you,” Reb said. “Why don’t you load a couple of magazines and see how you like the holster while I put up some targets for you?”

  Reb drove the ATV down the range and stopped at the stand that was 20 feet from the shooting shed. He got out with a paper target of a bad guy with a gun and used a staple gun to attach the target to the stand. Reb then drove the ATV down to the stand that was 35 feet away. After putting up one last target at the stand that was 50 feet away, Reb sped back to the shed. The entire process had only taken 5 minutes and Reb was happy with his decision to buy the ATV for use around The Farm.

  By the time Reb got back to the shed, Honey had loaded two magazines with 9mm ball ammunition and she had put her new holster inside the waistband of her jeans on her right hip and clipped the holster to her belt. She put a loaded magazine in the pistol, then holstered the pistol, and pulled her T-shirt back down to conceal it. As Reb walked into the shed, Honey turned toward him and said, “Can you tell I’m carrying?”

  Reb looked over at Honey and thought to himself, Any normal male is going to be so distracted by that gorgeous figure of yours, sweetheart, that he’s not going to be paying a whole lot of attention to what you may be carrying on your hip, but I’m not seeing any tell tale bulges at your waist, so you’re okay, before saying, “No, how does it feel though? It’s not too heavy, is it?”

  “It feels just fine in this holster you picked out, it’s real comfy,” Honey replied. “As for the weight, it’s not too bad. I can get used to it.”

  Reb said, “All right then, let’s get you acquainted with it first and then you can start shooting.”

  For the next ten minutes, Reb went over the 1911’s safety system. He showed Honey that carrying it in a cocked and locked condition was perfectly safe when done properly. Reb instructed Honey how to 1) stand square to the target with her feet spread apart in a normal stance that was comfortable for her, 2) lift or move out of the way any clothing that was concealing the pistol from view, 3) grip the handle as high as she could and then draw the pistol from the holster with her finger outside the trigger guard, 4) as soon as the pistol cleared her holster and she was raising the muzzle up to a firing position, to use her right thumb to push down on the thumb safety—making the gun ready for firing, 5) bring her left hand up and over to grasp the pistol—with her left thumb pointing forward—in a two handed grip to give her better control of the gun as she moved her trigger finger inside the trigger guard and continued to bring the gun up in front of her dominant eye, with her arms extended out in front of her and slightly bent at the elbow, 6) with both eyes open, line up the front and rear sights on the center of the upper chest area, and 7) squeeze the trigger repeatedly until the assailant was down and no longer capable of harming her.

  Then, for ten minutes, Honey practiced drawing her new pistol and aiming at the target that was 20 feet away. Reb told her to take her time and get used to drawing and aiming rather than trying to see how fast she could draw her weapon, that the speed would come later with practice.

  Finally, Honey racked the slide, loading a round into the chamber, pushed the thumb safety up in the safe position, holstered her gun, tucked in her T-shirt on that side so it wouldn’t get in the way, and put on her hearing protectors.

  When Reb saw Honey put on her hearing protectors, he put his on, too, and said, “I’m ready when you are.”

  Honey drew her gun, pushed the thumb safety switch down as she was bringing it up to a firing position, got a two-handed grip on it, continued bringing the gun up to eye level, lined up the sights on the upper chest area of the bad guy paper target, and opened fire. She kept firing until the slide locked back, indicating the magazine was empty.

  Reb whistled in admiration at her shot placement. There were 7 shots within a 3-inch circle in the middle of the upper chest of the bad guy and 1 shot just above the spot that would have been right between the bad guy’s eyes.

  Honey turned to Reb, smiled sheepishly, and said, “Did I do good?”

  “You sure as hell did,” Reb said. “You can be my bodyguard anytime.”

  For the next forty-five minutes, they both took turns shooting their pistols at the 20-foot, 30-foot, and 50-foot targets. Reb drove the ATV out to the target stands several times to put up fresh targets, more than happy that his investment in the ATV would be well worth it for the time it was going to save him running around the shooting range.

  After forty-five minutes of target practice with their pistols, Reb handed Honey the other gift-wrapped box to open.

  “Oh Reb, my very own AR-15,” Honey gushed when she finished unwrapping it. “I’ve always wanted one. I cannot wait to shoot this bad boy.”

  “Why don’t you load some magazines while I go and set up some rifle targets for us at 50 yards and 100 yards,” Reb said.

  When Reb returned from setting up the rifle targets, he and Honey spent the next half hour emptying 30-round magazine after 30-round magazine downrange at the targets. Honey had no trouble getting used to her AR-15 and the Aimpoint red dot scope. In no time at all, she was zeroed in and hitting the bulls eye on the targets with each and every shot. Honey was a natural when it came to firearms and Reb was glad that he had gotten her the pistol and the rifle, since it gave them something else they could do together.

  Finally, Reb opened the case that held the Barrett, assembled the rifle, attached the bipod and the riflescope, and set the rifle on top of the two-man bench. Then, he and Honey got in the ATV and drove it down to the face of the backstop berm where Reb had a special target setup for the Barrett.

  There were two six foot tall 6 x 6 pressure treated posts stickling out of the ground that were set five feet apart. Reb had drilled a hole in each post at a height of five feet. He had then placed a six foot long piece of 2 inch diameter galvanized pipe through the hole in one of the posts and over to and through the hole in the other post.

  Reb had four 12 inch diameter, fire engine red, spinning steel targets in the cargo box of the ATV. He took them over to the posts, slid the galvanized pipe out of the hole in the post on the right, slipped the collar of each of the free swinging targets onto the pipe, and then slid the end of the pipe back through the hole in the post.

  Reb and Honey drove back to the shooting shed. Reb took his seat on the left side of the shooting bench with the Barrett while Honey sat on the right side where she could man the laser range finder and the spotting scope.

  Reb sighted on the target farthest to the left and squeezed off a round, surprised that the recoil wasn’t bad at all. After a moment, not hearing the clang of the bullet impacting the steel target, Reb looked at Honey for a read on whether he was low, high, to the right or to the left of the target.

  “It looks like you were low,” Honey said, looking up from the spotting scope.

  Reb adjusted the riflescope’s elevation adjustment a tad and sighted on the left target again and squeezed off another round. After a moment, Reb was rewarded with the clang the bullet made when it hit the steel targe
t and the sight of the target spinning around the steel pipe 2 or 3 times before coming to a stop.

  After the target stopped swinging, Honey looked through the spotting scope, saw the dent made by the bullet, and said, “You were low 3 inches and left 2 inches from the bulls eye.”

  Reb made another adjustment to the riflescope and fired again.

  Once again, Reb heard the clang as the bullet hit the red steel target and saw it spin around the pipe a few times before coming to a stop.

  “Bulls-eye,” Honey said after looking through the spotting scope once the target quit moving.

  Reb quickly fired the remaining seven rounds in the magazine and had all four red targets spinning at once.

  “Wow, that was fun,” Reb said, when he finished emptying the magazine.

  Reb looked at Honey and said, “Your turn.”

  They switched positions and Honey took her time firing her first four shots, hitting each of the four targets going from right to left. Then, she sighted on the far left target and shot the remaining 6 rounds as fast as she could pull the trigger. Reb could have sworn he heard six clangs as the target kept spinning around the galvanized pipe.

  “Honey, do all Texas girls shoot as well as you do?” Reb asked.

  “Don’t know about other girls,” Honey replied, “but in my family, they do.”

  “Uh oh,” Reb said, when he looked at his watch and saw what time it was. “I completely lost track of the time. The kickoff for the Bama, Kentucky game was half an hour ago. What say we get everything loaded up and head back to the farmhouse so we can get something to eat and catch the rest of the game?”

  When they got to the farmhouse, their first stop was in the kitchen where Reb had installed all new appliances. On Friday, Reb had stocked the refrigerator with plenty of food for the game. He and Honey made themselves some sandwiches, grabbed some chips, pickles, and a couple of beers from the fridge and headed to the living room.

  Halftime had just started when they turned on the new big screen TV Reb had purchased for the living room—along with the new couch, coffee table, and couple of easy chairs. As they ate their lunch, the announcers quickly brought them up to speed on the Alabama game and several other games being played around the nation. When the second half got underway, Reb and Honey really got into the game and had a great time cheering Bama on as Bama—Number 3 in the polls—beat Kentucky by a final score of 38 to 20.

  Afterwards, they watched the Texas A&M and Arkansas game when it came on at 6:30 and Honey was just as exuberant in rooting for the Aggies as Reb had been in rooting for Bama even though the Aggies lost 19 to 47.

  They spent the night in the newly furnished master bedroom and the next morning, after breakfast, they headed back to Reb’s condo in Seaside Beach.

  * * *

  And that was how Reb’s life had been going for the past seven months. Honey would take a modeling assignment and be gone for a while and then return to Seaside Beach and stay with Reb until the next assignment. Most of the time, the locations of Honey’s assignments were close enough that, if they lasted more than a week, she could fly back to Seaside Beach on Friday afternoons or evenings and they would spend the weekend together. However, there had been one assignment in Hawaii and another assignment in California that had lasted two weeks, in both cases, and they had not been able to spend those weekends together.

  Whenever they were reunited, they made the most of their time together dividing time between going out fishing on the Revenge, shooting and hunting up at the farm, going out for dinner and a movie occasionally, and spending nice quiet evenings at home.

  Honey was an excellent cook and, most of the time when they were together, she liked to prepare homemade meals for the two of them, occasionally inviting Rusty over to join them.

  Honey liked to accompany Reb to the Tuesday night poker games and the other players—Billy, Dave, and Rusty—all enjoyed her company. Honey had a knack for telling bawdy jokes between hands that kept the men in stitches. And, when she wasn’t telling jokes, she would fetch the players whatever they were drinking from the kitchen and make sure the snack bowls were kept filled. Every once in a while, she would sit in for a player who needed to take a break. She was a lot of fun to be around and the men treated her like a member of the gang.

  All in all, Reb was happy with how things were working out. Every once in awhile, Rusty would send some clients his way for a charter fishing trip, but he spent more time out in the Revenge with Honey than with paying customers. About every other month, he’d get a call from Jake Gant wanting to know if he was getting bored with civilian life and ready for some action. And, so far, Honey hadn’t started dropping any hints about getting married, which Reb had mixed feelings about.

  CHAPTER 24

  West Pensacola Islamic Center

  600 W. Winthrop Avenue

  Pensacola, Florida

  Saturday, April 17, 2010

  7:15 p.m. Central Time

  Abdul Aswad, Imam at The West Pensacola Islamic Center, was waiting at the front entrance of the mosque watching the parking lot out front for the arrival of the three-member jihadi cell that he had assigned the mission to deal with Reb Rogers.

  The West Pensacola Islamic Center was in a single story commercial building in a small strip mall fronting W. Winthrop Avenue, located just off Gulf Beach Highway. The previous tenant of the building had been a Chinese restaurant that had specialized in an all-you-can-eat style buffet before going out of business in 2007.

  The layout of the mosque was simple. There was a small lobby at the front entrance with storage racks for shoes and restrooms where members could wash their feet before entering the prayer area. The prayer area itself, which was nothing more than a large open room, took up about half of the building’s floor space. A door on the rear wall of the prayer area led to a short hallway with the mosque’s kitchen on one side and the small efficiency apartment where Abdul lived on the other side.

  Earlier that day, when Abdul had contacted Tariq—the leader of the jihadi cell—to let him know that he and the other two members of his cell, Omar and Mohamed, should come to the mosque that night prepared for a mission, Abdul and Tariq had discussed the merits of getting an earlier start than the time Abdul and Hassan had originally planned. Both Abdul and Tariq had agreed that going after the Evening Prayer service, which started at 7:37 pm, instead of the Night Prayer service, which started at 8:51 pm, made more sense.

  Tariq, Omar, and Mohamed, the three members of the jihadi cell, were all in their early twenties and attended the University of West Florida. All three were first generation American citizens whose parents had immigrated to the United States from middle-eastern countries.

  Growing up Muslim in America had proven difficult for the three young men. Their parents were devout Muslims and had raised their children to follow the teachings of the Koran and sharia law, but the young men had been exposed to an American culture that was in most cases the exact opposite of what the Imams taught.

  The onset of puberty and the American co-educational system had placed extreme pressure on the three young men. The Koran taught them that females should be covered and modest. When out in public, the females in their families wore niqabs, a veil that covered the female’s head and face leaving only the eyes exposed, and abayas, a robe-like garment that covered the female from her shoulders to her feet. Outside their homes, the three young men were constantly exposed to American females who dressed and acted in very brazen ways by Islamic standards. The three young men considered all American women to be nothing more than whores. Shortly after joining the West Pensacola Islamic Center, all three of the young men readily accepted Abdul’s call to wage jihad on the American infidels.

  Tariq, Omar, and Mohamed had been the first three young men recruited by Abdul to wage jihad and they had been the first three-member team to travel to the secret camp in Libya for training in the use of firearms, bomb making, and terrorist tactics.

  Since returni
ng from the terrorist training camp in Libya, Tariq, Omar, and Mohamed were the most enthusiastic of the three jihadist teams when it came to maintaining the skills they had learned in Libya. The three jihadis were very dedicated to their upcoming mission to attack the air show. They frequently asked Abdul for more time at the training facility that Hassan had purchased in Cantonment. Abdul always scheduled the teams at different times so that the members of the different teams would remain unaware of the identities of the members of the other teams. Although the enthusiasm shown by Tariq, Omar, and Mohamed made his job more difficult in that regard, Abdul praised Allah for their dedication to waging jihad.

  When Abdul saw the 2008 Chrysler minivan driven by Tariq pull into the parking lot, he hurried outside to meet the three jihadis. Tariq saw Abdul walking towards the vehicle and rolled his window down.

  “Open the door so that I may enter your vehicle,” Abdul said. “I do not wish to stand out here in the parking lot where anyone can hear what I have to tell you.”

  When he was seated in the seat behind the driver and the door was closed, Abdul told Tariq to turn the radio on, but not too loudly.

  Abdul then opened the letter size manila envelope he was carrying and withdrew three sets of the same documents and handed them out to each of the three jihadis.

  “Look those documents over while I tell you about your mission,” Abdul said to the three jihadis.

  “In 2009, an American soldier, serving in Afghanistan, went into the village of Lashwan and without provocation killed eight of our Afghanistan brothers in cold blood.

  “At the time, the American news people referred to the incident as the Lashwan Massacre and called the soldier the Butcher of Lashwan. The American military held a sham trial and found the soldier responsible to be innocent of any wrongdoing.