He examined the fallen enemies to make sure they were all dead. As he reached the body of Mr. GQ, Tom remarked on his stained clothing. “Love the shirt. Red is your color.”
24
The same day that Tom departed the Navy Lodge to serve on the admiral’s protective detail, Max and June loaded their weapons, ammo, clothes, comms, and other gear into Bane’s full-sized SUV. Max rode shotgun next to the Hawaiian giant in the front, and June sat behind them.
Bane pulled out of the Navy Lodge parking lot and asked, “Do you think Zhao has anyone helping him in Hawaii?”
“It’s possible,” Max said.
“Why do you ask?” June said.
Bane drove through the gates and off the Navy base. “Three days ago, both the Pacific combatant commander and his deputy reported suspicious vehicles in their neighborhoods, especially in the morning,” Bane said. “I figured Zhao might already have people putting surveillance on their places for a hit.”
“It wouldn’t surprise me,” Max said.
Bane drove past the Bishop Museum. “Now the commander and his deputy are at separate safe houses, guarded by us. Tom is helping with the commander’s protective detail. Both the commander’s and deputy’s wives have flown to the mainland. Their kids are grown and already living there.”
“Tom mentioned that you were setting up some sort of trap for Zhao,” Max said.
“Yeah, there’s a resemblance between the deputy commander, Admiral Hernandez, and me, so I’ll be his kagemusha. Put on some makeup and wear his uniform to make it more realistic. When we’re in the vehicle and on the move, it’ll be harder for Zhao to recognize the difference. We’ll take up residence in his house. You and June will pose as part of my security detail.”
“Bait,” Max said.
“Mmm, bait that shoots back,” Bane said with a smile. He cruised partway into Honolulu before turning northeast on Pali Highway and ascending a mountain where trees broke through jagged black lava rock. As he exited the highway and pulled onto Nuuanu, he said, “When the admiral leaves his house in the morning, he has to slow down before crossing this intersection.”
“Choke point,” Max said, referring to a spot where the lay of the land inhibits movement, making the principal vulnerable.
“Right, and we have to cross through this intersection to get out of the neighborhood. Once we clear the intersection, we hit the highway—traveling faster will make it more challenging for someone to attack us. Also, after the intersection there are more roads leading to the admiral’s office, and we can vary his routes.”
“So it won’t be easy for a would-be assassin to guess which route to set up an ambush on,” Max said.
“Exactly. Because the intersection is a likely place for an ambush, tomorrow morning I’ll have one pair of my snipers providing overwatch on it and one pair of assaulters waiting nearby in a car. In just a minute I’ll point out where the others will be positioned.”
Bane’s SUV climbed higher up the hill, and Max examined villas and their view of the Honolulu metropolis below and the shimmering sea beyond. “At Hawaii prices, I’d guess the homes in this area are around the million dollar range or more,” Max said. “I know admirals aren’t poor, but I didn’t know they had this much money.”
Bane rolled up the street until it became Old Pali Road. “Admiral Hernandez’s wife owns several online companies. She makes more money than her husband. If he can’t afford the house, she can.” Soon he pulled off the road and into a driveway.
“We could get attacked here at his home,” Max said. “Before we even reach the intersection.”
“Yes,” Bane said. “I’ve got a sniper team in the house across the street and one in the woods out back, so we’ve got the admiral’s house under constant surveillance. A team of assaulters is nearby in a vehicle standing by to help us out if we get into trouble here. Once we get rolling, the assault vehicles will follow us to the admiral’s office at Camp Smith.”
After parking in the garage, they unloaded their gear. A bald man with hungry eyes and burly biceps opened the door. “Bane,” he said with a smile. He wore an NCIS badge and a pistol on his hip.
“Howzit,” Bane said before leading Max and June into the kitchen. Through a multitude of spacious windows, sunshine shimmered off granite countertops. Max, June, and Bane passed peach-colored walls and entered a living room with creamy furniture decorated in pastel outlines of tropical plants. The potted ferns and other shrubs in the house soothed Max. Beyond the back window lay a lap pool. Further out was a jungle of trees filled with a variety of leaves—long, short, narrow, wide, drooping, upright, round, bladed, veined, and smooth. “This place feels like a resort,” Max said.
“Remind me of that when we’re getting shot at,” Bane said.
“Any recent reports of carjacks or stolen vehicles in the area?” Max asked. It was likely Zhao might steal a car and use it for the ambush.
“Not yet. But I’ll receive another update tomorrow morning.” Bane showed Max and June their rooms.
As Max prepped his gear, a knock came on the frame on the wall next to his open door. He looked up from his equipment. It was June.
He gestured for her to come in.
She hesitated. The overhead light in his room reflected off her almond-shaped eyes. She entered as if walking with two left feet. The scent of her vanilla and ginger perfume entered the room with her. Max found her vulnerable appearance endearing, making him want to protect her.
“How many of Zhao’s men do you think there could be?” she asked quietly.
Max had to think for a moment. “They’ll need at least a driver and a shooter. Maybe more.”
“I’m a case officer,” she said, “not a paramilitary officer like you and Tom. I’m trained to recruit agents and gather intel.”
“Willy said that you’ve taken the initiative and done some paramilitary training on your own—said you’re an expert marksman.”
“Yes, in the future I’d like to become a paramilitary officer like you guys, but I’m not at that level today.”
“Just stick with us tomorrow, and you’ll be fine,” Max said.
“I’m more comfortable with pistol than rifle.”
“Rifle would be better, but if you’ll be more effective with pistola, then that will do.”
She thanked him before leaving.
Max peered through his bedroom window and tried to spot the NCIS snipers in the jungle, but he couldn’t see them, so he assumed they were doing their job well. In Iraq, he’d trusted Bane with his life, and that trust was still there.
“Howzit,” a hearty voice came from behind.
Max turned. “Hey, brother. Staging my gear for tomorrow.”
“Got a minute?”
“Sure.”
Bane eased inside and closed the door. “Something going on between you two?”
“With who?”
“She just walked out of your room.”
“June?” Max said. “She just has the premission jitters. And a firearms question. That’s all.”
“How well do you know her?”
“She’s a case officer stationed in Hanoi. We borrowed her.”
“Is she working for us or the Chinese?”
“She’s an Agency newbie,” Max said. “You know something I don’t?”
“I just remember that Chinese woman, Katrina Leung, who copied national defense information for China. Had FBI Agent Smith wrapped around her finger. The US government says she set our counterintelligence program back twenty years.”
“Katrina Leung was a Chinese citizen who Smith recruited as an asset. June is an American. A full-fledged CIA officer. There’s a difference.”
“Smith recruited her ass all right,” Bane said, “and she wasn’t what I’d call pretty. June on the other hand is nani plenty—in a nerdy sort of way.” Max didn’t know the meaning of nani, but he guessed it was Hawaiian for pretty. “I know how you like the ladies, brah. Just be careful.”
> Max shrugged. “June isn’t an issue.”
“Whatever,” Bane said. “I believe in you, but I don’t know June. I’m going to have plenty of things on my mind tomorrow, and I don’t need worries about getting shot in the back to be one of those things.”
“Agency trusted her enough to hire her, and she helped us identify Zhao. She’s not a frogman, but she knows how to run agents and gather intel. And she’s on our side.”
“That’s all I need to know. It’s good to go huntin’ with you again. I’ll leave you to finish squaring away your gear. Talk to you in a bit.” He eased out the door.
“Later,” Max said.
After Max finished staging his gear, he went to the living room and took a seat on the sofa. Soon June joined him. Then Bane broke out a laptop and showed them maps of the area.
“I think June would be good as a driver,” Max said. “I can ride alongside her.”
“Okay,” Bane said. “I’ll ride in back. Let’s go for a dry run to the admiral’s office at Camp Smith.”
They discussed communications procedures. “The sniper pair on the house is Sierra One,” Bane said. “Assault team near the house is Alpha One. At the intersection, the other sniper pair is Sierra Two and the assault team there is Alpha Two. Max’s call sign is Yukon.”
“How’d you get the call sign Yukon?” June asked.
“Years ago,” Bane said, “in the Teams, guys kidded Max about how much he loved his GMC Yukon. We named him after his truck.”
“Bane’s call sign is Bane,” Max said.
“Except I’m bigger and stronger than the one in the comics,” Bane said with a chuckle. “June, you got a call sign?”
“No, I don’t,” she said. “Should I think of one?”
“No,” Max and Bane said in unison.
“You can’t make your own call sign,” Bane said.
“It’s like an unwritten rule,” Max explained.
Max and Bane thought for a moment.
“Pele,” Bane said.
“What does it mean?” June asked.
“Pele is the Hawaiian fire goddess,” Bane said. “She does lightning, wind, and volcanoes, too. Created the Hawaiian Islands.”
Max smiled. “Pele sounds primo.”
A smile spread across June’s face.
“Then it’s settled,” Max said.
They discussed possible ways Zhao and his men might attack them and how to defend against it—how to counterattack.
“Tomorrow, I’ll narrate our activities so my boys will know what’s going on with us,” Bane said.
The three retired to their rooms for the evening. In spite of the NCIS protection, Max didn’t take any chances and slept with his pistol under his pillow and his M4 rifle within arm’s reach.
25
Max, June, and Bane woke and sucked down packets of energy gels—making for a quick and easy breakfast. Max and June put on semiformal business attire, and Bane dressed like the admiral with a bullet-resistant vest under his clothing. Max and June wore theirs under their clothing, too. It gave them some protection against being shot, but didn’t provide perfect protection. They gathered in the living room.
“Last night, there was an attempt on the admiral who your brother was helping protect,” Bane said more quietly than his normal booming voice.
“Oh, dear,” June said.
“Is Tommy okay?” Max asked.
“He’s fine, but some others weren’t so lucky,” Bane said.
“The admiral?” Max asked.
“Haven’t heard.” Bane’s voice returned to its normal volume. “Should find out more later today. I did hear that a blue Kia Sorento, midsized SUV, was stolen from the Ala Moana Shopping Center,” Bane said.
Max had given up on wishing Bane wouldn’t be so loud, especially in the morning, but he appreciated the intel. “You think it’s Zhao?” Max asked.
“Could be. Or just a car thief.”
For comms, they put on wireless earbuds the size of peas, which they dropped into their ears. In order to talk with each other, they attached throat mics, which were then concealed beneath their shirt collars.
Max gave June a look-over and noticed she wasn’t wearing gloves or sunglasses. “When the glass, shell casings, and other debris start flying inside the vehicle, you’ll want to be wearing protection on your hands and eyes,” he advised her.
“Thank you.” She went to her room and came back wearing gloves and sunglasses.
“This is Yukon, radio check,” Max said.
“Bane, yeah.”
“Pele,” June said.
“Thanks,” Max said. Now he worried that maybe this wasn’t such a good idea to bring June along. Her inexperience might get her or Bane killed. She had already helped identify Zhao, and maybe it was time to send her back to her station in Hanoi. But she already had a role as driver in the present mission, and it was bad juju to start changing everything at the last minute.
The trio congregated in the kitchen, where Bane did a radio check with his NCIS guys before Max exited the room. Max flicked on a light and examined the dimly lit garage, including the admiral’s white Lexus luxury sedan and the space around Bane’s gray SUV. Leaning against a wall was an inspection mirror on a long telescopic rod. He picked it up and swept under the vehicle, checking the reflection of the admiral’s car belly for signs of tampering. Nothing. He propped the mirror back against the wall before examining the interior of the car.
Everything looked fine. “Clear,” Max said. He opened the door to the kitchen.
June and Bane filed out.
“We’re in the garage,” Bane transmitted to his NCIS buddies.
The sniper and assault teams responded. “Sierra One, roger.”
“Alpha One, roger.”
“Sierra Two, roger.”
“Alpha Two, roger.”
June, with her Glock 19 concealed on her hip under her suit jacket, sat behind the wheel. Max took his place beside her with his short-barreled M4 rifle propped between his legs, and Bane sat in the back with his shorty assault rifle propped between his legs, too. Their team kept their weapons out of sight so their enemies wouldn’t catch wind of what surprises were waiting for them. Max put on his seat belt and glanced over at June to make sure she’d done the same.
June touched the garage remote on the visor, and the garage door opened, leaking sunlight inside. They were vulnerable here, and Max wanted to haul ass out of the danger zone, but they couldn’t act like they suspected a hit. When the door opened fully, he told June, “Just ease us out of the driveway.”
NCIS or the admiral had backed his car into the garage, making for an easier exit. June was poised as she put the car in drive and took them out onto the street.
“We’re rolling,” Bane said.
An assault car acknowledged the transmission: “We’re right behind.”
It felt good to be out of the first danger zone.
The sniper team at the Pali Highway intersection reported, “White van loitering near Pali Highway intersection—looks suspicious.”
As Max’s team reached the halfway point between the house and intersection, the NCIS assault vehicle behind Max’s car reported: “Blue Kia Sorento coming up behind us.”
“Same license as the stolen vehicle?” Bane asked.
“Different,” the agent said.
“If Zhao stole the vehicle,” Bane said, “he likely stole another set of license plates, too. Could be trouble. Let us know if the Kia makes a move.”
Max’s team passed a bus stop, but he couldn’t see the white van stopped at the Pali Highway intersection ahead. His heart and breathing rates sped up, and he took a deep breath and calmed himself. He turned to June and said, “If the white van or anyone else shows up at the intersection and tries to block us, just ram the hell out of them.” He took another deep breath, and he became even more tranquil.
“We’re nearing the intersection,” Bane said.
A white van approached t
he intersection in front of them. Then it rolled through the stoplight. “White van rolled through the stoplight in front of us,” Bane reported.
The van stopped in front, blocking them, and its side and back doors flew open. “Ram the sons of bitches!” Max said.
June stomped the accelerator.
Several black-clad armed men of different shapes and sizes jumped out of the van and aimed their weapons at them. June kept her foot on the gas and slammed one of the men between the admiral’s car and the enemies’ van. The masked area around the man’s mouth seemed to move, but the horrific crack of the collision drowned out any cry.
The airbags in the admiral’s vehicle exploded, and the engine stopped. June tried to restart it, but the engine wouldn’t turn over. Max pushed down the airbag. It was hot to the touch, and it partially deflated through the vents in the back of it. He braced himself with his back against the seat and his feet against the floorboard. He pressed the muzzle of his rifle against the glass, flicked off the safety, and aimed at the nearest threat—front passenger of the van aiming at June. Max’s first shot struck the van below the window, but the second shot hit the would-be attacker in the face, and his head snapped back.
Bane was shooting, too. Hot empty cartridges bounced around inside the vehicle, and one of the cartridges burned Max’s left ear. He’d been burned before and ignored it. The racket of the rifle reports in the cramped car assaulted Max’s hearing, and the smoke that Max loved was now almost thick enough to gag on.
He became impatient. “Get us out of here, June.”
“It won’t start,” she said.
Two husky men at the rear of the van went down. It wasn’t clear if Bane put them down or the intersection snipers did, but Max was happy to see them bite asphalt. A lanky man limped near the front of the van, but June gunned him down.
Max threw open his door to leap out, but he’d forgotten to take off his seat belt, and it held him in place as two rounds cracked into his door where he would’ve been standing if his seat belt hadn’t stopped him. Max fired at the muzzle flashes, and the man who nearly whacked him went down.
Max undid his seat belt, and he and Bane burst out of the car and hustled toward the van. Bane stepped over the two bleeding husky men sprawled on the asphalt and checked the front of the van. Max peeked in the back—a petrified-looking man lifted his rifle in Max’s direction, but Max drilled him in the chest before he could shoot.
Autumn Assassins: [#3] A Special Operations Group Thriller Page 17