by T C Miller
This time Jack jumped in, “So what? We got the mob after us and you’re worried about a bunch of snot-nosed rent-a-cops? Ever look at ‘em close?. . .Nothing more than a bunch of pimply-faced kids. . .They run around pretending they know what they’re doing ‘cause they give ‘em weapons. So what?. . . Push comes to shove, they’ll wet their pants and go running home to their mamas first time somebody points a gun at them.”
“Are you serious, man?” asked Jason. “I mean, they do get paid to guard those planes, don’t they?. . .And they do know how to use those guns, right?”
Rick sighed. “Look, guys, I never said it’d be a piece of cake. . .If it was, other people would’ve done it. . .But I’ve thought it out and think I’ve covered everything that might happen. . .For instance, part of the plan is to sneak drugs into their food, so they’re not thinking clear. I got a contact in food service that’ll make it happen. Then we swoop down and take over before they figure out what hit them. . .We have all the know-how we need sitting right in this room and can hire other help as needed.”
He could see by their confused looks the scopolamine was working. “It’ll take planning and perfect timing. . .as well as some preparation on our part. But keep in mind, I have my contacts. It’ll also take a certain amount of luck. . .But, if anybody can do it, the guys sitting in this room can.”
“So, tell me again why we should do this?” Bill asked. “You know, so everybody’s clear on it.”
“You mean other than avoiding a second go ‘round with Toby and his hammer?” Rick answered.
They all winced at the mention of Toby.
For the next hour they listened to the outline of his plan.
“This might actually work,” Jason finally admitted. “It is kind of weird though, how our little group that somehow came together has all the know-how we need to pull it off. . .”
“See, what’d I tell you?” Rick replied. “Fate’s on our side. . .
I’m telling you, we’re gonna come through this in great shape.”
The old cuckoo clock above the bar wearily signaled midnight as Jason yawned and stretched. “Look, I hate to break up this little party, but I’ve got to get some sleep. They catch me snoring at my desk again and I’ll be in deep doo-doo.”
Bud gave him a caustic look. “Deep doo-doo? Man, you’re weird. . .”
“Some of us are just a little more sophisticated than others, that’s all. . .We don’t feel the need to use vulgar language.”
“Yeah, you and old ladies. . .But whatever. . .You’re right, it’s probably way past time to hit the rack.”
“And put your plates and empties in the garbage can before you go,” Jason added. “I shouldn’t have to clean up after everybody.”
That brought a few rude looks, but they stood and, for the most part, complied.
Rick offered a parting statement, “Okay, guys, sleep on it and we’ll meet back here tomorrow night at seven to start working out the details.”
Bill and Bud walked out to their trucks together. They weren’t free yet, but there was at least a tiny ray of hope. A dog on the next block over was barking for some reason only it knew and the full moon shone off windows of the houses across the street.
“Smell that night air,” Bill commented.
“Hope it’s not the last free air we breathe, buddy. . .So, what do you think of Rick’s plan?”
“Not sure what to think at this point. . .He’s right, though, our old lives are pretty much over. . .dead and gone. No matter what happens now, I’d say it’s time to move on to something else.”
“Even if it means giving everything up?”
“I already cashed in everything worth selling. . .so yeah.”
“Not the money part. . .I’m talkin’ about family and friends.”
“Let’s face it, they won’t understand what we did, since we don’t understand it ourselves.”
“So what do we do now?”
“You’re asking me for advice? I’m one of the biggest dummies in this mess. . .I shoulda known better. But, do I stop?. . .Noooo! I jump right in with both feet and go along with it. . ..Why, you got some other way outta this?”
“Nope. That’s just it.”
Bill paused and cleared his throat. “I’ve never told anybody this before, but since you’re my friend, I think you’ll understand. . .When Rick starts talking about his plan, I think, wait, he’s asking me to betray my country”
He looked up at the stars in exasperation. “I oughta jump up, grab him by the throat and punch his lights out. . .I mean, given my job, I should be madder’n hell. . .But the thing is, I’m not.
“First of all, I ain’t got the energy. . .Life’s taken all the fight outta me and most days I feel like I been beat down like a stray dog. Just countin’ the days ‘til they put me in a cheap suit and plant me in the ground. . .Know what I’m sayin’?”
“Been there, too. . .Like we got some kinda mid-life crisis. . .
ain’t that what they call it?” Bud offered.
“Guess so. . .Can’t think of what else it might be. . .It’s not like we’re on drugs or somethin’. And to be honest, this ain’t the first time I thought about doin’ something like Rick’s talkin’ about.”
“For real?”
“For real. . .You can’t be a cop for more’n a few months before you start thinkin’ about grabbin’ your own little piece of the pie. You stand by while a currency shipment is being loaded or walk through a warehouse full of expensive stuff and think about how easy it’d be to grab some for yourself. . .Boy, do you think about it!”
“Never thought about that,” Bud mumbled. “Just figured cops were all upstanding citizens and everything.”
“Most of the time. . .But sometimes you daydream and, if you’re smart, that’s all you do. Guess I stepped over the line this time and what’s done is done. . .Time to clean up the mess.”
“I hear what you’re sayin’,” Bud answered. “Anyway, see you tomorrow night.”
The headlights on a car parked down the block came on, the engine started and it moved toward them.
“Wonder who that is?” Bud asked nonchalantly.
“Shift worker, maybe,” Bill replied.
The car screeched to a halt just before it got to them and the driver and passenger doors flew open. Two figures sprang from their seats and rushed toward them.
“Oh, shit, it’s them!” Bill mumbled.
“Them who?”
“Toby and Craig. . .”
“What’ll we do?”
Bill pulled on Bud’s arm to get him going. “Run back in the house.”
Toby and Craig caught up to them halfway across the yard and gang-tackled them with ease. Bud felt like he had been hit by the NFL’s biggest defensive lineman. He landed with such force it knocked the wind out of him.
Craig hissed in his ear, “What you running from, Fatman. . .you don’t wanna talk, or something?” Bud could barely breathe.
Bill lay on his back, looking up at Toby towering over him. The moon was low enough on the horizon that the front yard was in shadow. The goon didn’t see him reach into a pouch on his belt and pull out a stun gun.
“So, you twos, our bosses want we should pick up whatever money you got,” Toby said. “Sort of a down payment on what you owe.”
“And what if we don’t have any?” Bill hoped Bud could come around enough to at least run to the house and alert the others while he stalled. A steadily increasing whine from the device he held next to him reached a peak and changed to a long beep.
“What’s that?” Toby asked in a voice that was more inquisitive than fearful.
“Something for you, asshole.” Bill sat up and jammed the Taser into Toby’s inner thigh as he pressed the trigger. Nine and a half million volts of raw energy coursed through the hapless mobster’s body. He vibrated in a St. Vitus dance for a few seconds, fell to the ground and shook all over as he curled into a fetal position.
Craig had his back turned
away while he tried to fasten Bud’s hands behind him with zip ties. He didn’t see what was happening and only knew there was something wrong when he heard a loud thud as Toby’s twitching body toppled to the ground.
Bud had recovered enough to take advantage of the distraction. He sat up, and as Craig turned back toward him, delivered a swift punch to the kneeling thug’s Adam’s apple. Craig’s hands instinctively went to his throat and he dropped the plastic cable ties. Bud scooped them up and moved toward Toby to subdue him.
At the same time, Bill heard the long tone again and applied the prongs of the weapon to Craig’s neck. A quick push of the button took him out of action. Bill reached behind his back and removed a set of handcuffs from another pouch. A minute later the restrained Craig lay on the ground, still twitching from the after effects.
Bill heard the door of the house close behind him and motioned for Rick and Jack to hurry over. “We need to get these two into the game room before somebody sees us.
Bill and Rick helped Toby and Craig to their feet and led them toward the house. “Bud and I’ll take their car over to the commuter parking lot on Highway 50,” Jack said. “Come on, Bud. . .follow me in your truck.”
Two minutes later the street returned to its usual quiet state.
“Okay, now what are we supposed to do?” Jason posed the question as he stood in the game room, hands on his hips. The query was rhetorical in nature, but seemed to be directed at Rick, since he had become the de facto leader.
“I don’t know. . .This wasn’t part of the plan,” Rick said to nobody in particular. He seemed to be thinking out loud and nobody commented. “Give me a minute to clear my head.”
Bill was the first to come up with a plan. “I can get some leg chains from work. . .We can hold them here until we put our plan into action.”
Toby had been sitting on the couch with a sullen look on his face since recovering from the shock. “What plan?”
“None of your business, asshole,” Bill answered. “Sit still and keep your mouth shut, or we’ll have to gag you.”
“Might be a good idea, anyway,” Rick offered.
The action of gagging the two men seemed to break the group from its lethargy. One after another, they offered suggestions.
“Okay,” Rick said as he motioned for silence. “Here’s the way I see it. These two are under control for the time being, but their buddies up at the lake are bound to come looking for them sooner, not later. We just need to move up the time schedule a little. . .like a week or two.”
“I don’t know.” Jason looked at the two mobsters. “Do you really think we’re ready?”
“Doesn’t matter. . .This changes everything. We’ll have to adapt, that’s all.”
“Yeah, but. . .”
“No buts about it,” Rick broke in. “Is all the equipment in place at the base?”
The group nodded.
“You all know your roles, so I just need to make sure the temporary help I hired is available. I say we go for it Wednesday.”
“That’s just two days from now!” Jason noted.
“Plenty of time.”
“I wasn’t ready for it so soon.”
“Then you need to man up and wrap your head around it, you hear?. . .Forty-eight hours from now we go for it. . .Agreed?”
Nobody could come up with an alternative, so they simply bobbed their heads.
“All right, then,” Rick summarized. “Bill, I guess you’ll have to go to work tomorrow to get the chains. . .Everybody else, call in sick or take leave tomorrow. In the meantime, we’ll take turns guarding these two.”
Bill started to leave, but turned back to Rick. “So, what are we going to do with them two days from now?” His words hung heavily in the air and both goons turned toward Rick.
“Only thing I can think of, is we’ll call their bosses on Wednesday and tell them where to find them,” Rick answered. “Sound fair?”
“Yeah, sure. . .they can stand another day of watching TV, I guess.”
“Good, now go home. . .Get some sleep and meet back here tomorrow at noon.”
They filed out as Rick used a plastic clothesline to bind the captives legs together.
CONSORTIUM MAIN OFFICE
CENTRAL EUROPE
“Sorry to bother you, sir, but you asked for an update on the Eichner operation.”
“Yes, yes, Conrad, come in and take a seat.”
“Thank you, sir. I have confirmed the transfer of the five hundred thousand US dollars to our Mafia clients in Las Vegas as you ordered.”
“Good, I trust they were satisfied?
“Not entirely. They expressed the opinion they should be allowed to send a message to other gamblers they will not tolerate being cheated. In other words, they want to make an example of at least one of the members of Eichner’s group.”
“Hmm, this is somewhat troubling. While I understand their position, they do not have an overview of what Eichner is doing. We have a very strong interest in his success, although that is unknown to these gangster persons. I suppose Eichner might be willing to sacrifice one of his operatives. . .once the operation has concluded. I will speak with him about the matter.”
“Very well, sir. Do you require anything else of me?”
“One other item. . .Have you assembled the dossiers on the replacement for the deceased head of the Consortiums’ North American Headquarters, Smithfield?”
“Work is progressing nicely on them. . .I am waiting for recommendations from Division Chiefs, as well as background investigations of the potential candidates. One has already disqualified himself due to womanizing.”
“Perhaps I should intervene in the matter to encourage the Division Chiefs to expedite their replies.”
“If you wish, sir. I think they are reluctant to make hasty comments that might be misconstrued. . .After all, it is one of our largest income streams.”
“That is true, although I find it curious that such a bastion of freedom produces corporations that are so quick to deal in covert operations to achieve their business goals. Conversely, I suppose we should be grateful for the funds they provide to us. . .It has proven to be quite lucrative.”
“Indeed, sir. . .I’ll redouble efforts to gather the information you require.”
“Good. The absence of a permanent replacement seems to have slowed progress on completion of the consolidated headquarters in Colorado.”
“Regrettably, sir. It appears the Acting Director may be somewhat overwhelmed by the task, if you do not mind me saying so.”
“No, I believe that is an accurate assessment, although I trust that, as usual, you will not offer that opinion to anyone else.”
“Of course not, sir. I do my utmost to assure discretion.”
“It is one of the reasons we reward you so well and so often.”
“For which I am grateful. Will there be anything else?”
“Not at this time. . .You may return to your work.”
***
CHAPTER 9
WINFIELD RESIDENCE
RANCHO CORDOVA, CALIFORNIA
“Bart, is that you, honey?” She had only been back from the local CIA office for a few minutes. The visit there had told her little, other than there was a working incident at the base involving intruders and nuclear weapons. She knew as much as the people in DC.
“Sure is, baby. . .Back for a five-minute shower, then on to the Command Post. Coffee sure smells good.”
She came into the foyer wiping her hands on a towel. “I’ll get you a cup. . .So, what did it turn out to be?”
“Unknown subjects took over the Alert Pad.”
“Took it over? You mean controlling the gates, right? They don’t have the planes, do they?”
‘“fraid so. . .A BUFF with nukes on board, to be exact. . .Supposed to tell Johnson their demands at 0730.” He started undressing as he was talking to her, dropping his clothes on the floor.
“That’s easy to believe. . .You’ve been warni
ng them forever that Alert Pad security needed to be beefed up.”
“Kind of a moot point, now.”
“Maybe they’ll listen to you now, even though it’s like closing the barn door after the horse is out. So what can I do to help?”
“Nothin’ at the moment. . .’less you wanna make me a fried egg sandwich to go.”
“You betcha, big guy. . .Then I need to make a few calls.
BASE COMMANDER’S OFFICE
MATHER AFB
0530 HOURS, PRESENT DAY
Colonel Jim Jackson, or J.J. as he was known to his friends, usually thought of his position as Base Commander as little more than a stepping stone to his first star. Years spent at assignments all over the world allowed him to shoulder increasing responsibility with ease.
He spoke softly into the phone to his wife, “No, baby, I can’t tell you why I was called in. . .Just do as I say. Grab your go-bag and head for Lake Tahoe. Call it a quick getaway vacation. . .You know, a surprise.”
“You can’t tell me why? At least tell me when you’ll be there.”
“That’s just it, I don’t know. . .day or two, at the most.”
“So what am I supposed to do in the meantime?”
“I don’t know. . .Gamble?”
“You know I don’t like gambling. . .”
“Then see some shows or go shopping. . .think of something.”
“I don’t know, my book club meeting is tonight. . .I think I’ll wait until you go.”
“I’m only going to say this once, so listen up. I want you on your way to the lake in less than thirty minutes. . .No ifs, ands or buts. . .”
“And just who do you think you’re talking to, mister, one of your Air Force flunkies?”
“No, Sugar, I, uh, didn’t mean it quite that way. . .Take my word for it, though, it’s the most important thing I’ve ever asked you to do. . .”
“Besides marrying you?”
“Believe it or not, it’s a very close second. . .Look, we’re getting ready to start an emergency meeting. . .”
