by Jerry Ahern
“On foot, seven minutes, ten at the most.”
Phillips nodded. “The second unit will turn South off of H1 on Mccully Street then right on Kapiolani Boulevard across Kalakaua Avenue, left on Atkinson Drive then onto Ala Moana State Regional Park Drive, and plug up the hole from the rear. Medical personnel will be positioned here...”
“Any layout of the building they’re in?” Shaw asked.
Phillips flipped a faded blueprint out. “This is old but probably pretty accurate. Single story, wood construction with five rooms. As soon as Team One is in place, they’ll scan the building with infrared to locate the people inside. Gentlemen, on the signal we hit them hard and fast, it’s the only chance these kids have got. There’s a fifty-fifty chance we can get them out unharmed.”
Shaw reached down and pulled his .38 from an ankle holster and checked the loads one last time. Next he pulled his 1911 .45, dropped the magazine and pushed on the top round making sure it was full. For the fifth time in five minutes before, he slid the weapon back into his leather shoulder rig. “I’ll be with your Team,” he said to Team One’s leader. “I want you to remember the fifty-fifty-ninety rule: Anytime you have a fifty-fifty chance of getting something right, there’s a ninety percent probability you’ll get it wrong.”
Team One’s leader nodded. “Proud to have you, Mr. Shaw, I just ask that you let us do our job without interference.”
Shaw said, “I will be focused on the kids. You guys focus on Davis and McAllen; I don’t care if they are dead or alive, as long as the kids are okay. We clear?”
“Okay, let’s get into position, move out.”
“Wait a minute,” Shaw said. “What about the water? I don’t want these bastards to have a way out.”
“I’ve already sent a team,” Walker said. “One of my guys has a small fishing boat; he has four marksmen on it plus three SWAT guys. They are in the harbor already. They won’t get away.”
Shaw nodded. “Thanks Captain.”
“Let’s roll out.”
Chapter Sixteen
Every nerve ending and muscle fiber in John Rourke’s body was on fire, and he still could do nothing. The fire consuming him was total; but slowly... microscopically, the intensity began to diminish. He became more mentally aware but still physically numbed and unable to move. Then, as suddenly as the agony had consumed him, like a switch had been flipped, miraculously it stopped.
Sweat covered his naked skin. Stink from the sweat threatened to smother him, still he could not move. Now, able to focus on the scene around him, it could only be described as... alien. He remembered Arnold, his betrayal... he had glimpses of early moments of semi-clarity. Had he awakened for moments or seconds?
John Thomas Rourke had been captured and now was in the hands of the greatest enemy the planet Earth had ever faced—the Creator. The Creator stepped back in the room, the being’s dark grey skin showed a distinct lack of muscular definition.
Rourke assessed the being silently, Elongated body and a small chest... legs shorter than what one would expect in a human, the humeri and the thighs appeared to the same length as the forearms and shins... no visible sexual characteristics... Head, unusually large in proportion to the body... no hair visible anywhere on the body, including the face... no noticeable outer ears or nose, only small openings or orifices for ears and nostrils... mouth small... opaque black eyes, very large but with no discernible iris or pupil... about four feet tall, maybe slightly more but only by an inch or two...
It stood for a long time staring at Rourke. The total lack of expression... disconcerting, was the only word Rourke could think of. The only movement was the head which periodically moved from side to side; on a human it could have been interpreted as quizzical or thoughtful. Slowly it stepped forward and laid its hand on Rourke’s immobilized head; Rourke thought it felt gentle.
Rourke had to clear his throat before he could speak. He tried to say, “Hello, how can I help you?” Only a scratchy squeak came out. Swallowing, Rourke tried again, “Hello, how can I help you.” John coughed slightly and pressed on, “I’m sorry but I’m not sure if you understand our language. I would like to communicate with you. I would also appreciate it if you would remove these restraints.”
Rourke jiggled his hands and feet to draw attention to the restraints. The creature walked to a panel next to the door and pushed a button; the door opened and as it walked through, it reached back and punched the wall. The restraints opened and the creature moved out of the room as the door shut behind it.
Chapter Seventeen
“Team One in position,” the radio squawked. “Infrared shows four body signatures in room one; room two is empty and two body signatures in room three.
“Team Two in position,” the radio squawked. “Street blocked and we are set up on the east side of the next building over.”
“Sea side is plugged, we’re ready when you are.” The report came from Walker’s team on the fishing boat.
Phillips sat in the mobile command post monitoring the radio and three computer screens. Sweat rolled down his cheeks. The visual feeds came from a drone circling high above, directly overhead, and camera images from two police helicopters that surveyed the neighborhood. The unit’s air conditioner hummed ineffectively in the background.
He took a last drag on the cigarette before snubbing it out in the ash tray; he crossed himself, said a silent prayer and keyed the microphone. “Initiate. All operators you have a green light. I say again, initiate. You have a green light.”
He leaned back and crossed himself again, wishing he hadn’t snubbed out the cigarette.
Team One moved out; half of the team headed for their staging point on the east side of the target building. They were going after the hostage takers. The rest of the team were low crawling through the two foot tall sea grass; fifty feet to go. Crawling from what little concealment the sea grass gave, they made their way to the west wall of the structure. They prepared to breach the west wall in room one and snatch the hostages.
Agent Dale Roberts stuck the small explosive charges on the west wall, the heavy adhesive pads holding them securely to the old wooden wall, and plugged in the electronic caps. He flipped the cover of the activation switch on the detonator and waited for sounds of a double click in his headphone receiver. Team Two moved down the Ala Moana State Regional Park Drive to cover the target building and snag anyone coming out.
Roberts pushed the blinking red button on the detonator; six small explosions took out the wall and four men rushed inside to grab the hostages as Roberts’ carbine covered them from the gap he had just created. Simultaneously, on the other side of the building, the crash of a battering ram splintered the door frame and flashbang grenades blasted the still of the air.
Gunfire erupted.
The first man through the wall gap was Tim Shaw. Shaw rushed into the room with his gun hand outstretched, covering the door. He went to the far side of the room and grabbed Tim by his shirt front. In one motion, he jerked the boy to his feet, bent over and flipped him up on his shoulder. His gun hand never wavered. He watched as Paula and Natalie were pulled up and carried bodily out by two men, and Jack snatched from the ground by the last operator.
Shaw, his gun hand still extended, was the last to rush back through the gap in the wall. He kept running, following the three operators to a safe location. Robert’s remained, his carbine focused on the door. On the other side of the building the rapid cacophony of gunfire, screams and shouted commands could be heard. Suddenly it was quiet, except for a shouted single word...
“Clear.”
Chapter Eighteen
Almost out of breath, Shaw sat his heavy load down and looked closely at Tim for the first time. “Boy, you’re going to have to lose some weight if you’re going to keep this up,” he said, smiling as he untied the gag. Flipping a four-inch switchblade out, he cut the duct tape around the boy’s feet and spun him around to cut the rope from his hands. Then he spun him back to look
into Shaw’s face. “You okay? You look like hell...”
Tim nodded. “I’m fine, just a little banged up. Thanks Grandpa.” Then Tim Rourke pulled away and went to his sister’s side. Her bonds and gag had been removed and she stood holding on to the arm of her rescuer. “Sis...” he said. Paula smiled and hugged her brother. Natalie and Jack smiled their relief.
Jack said, “Yeah, Tim. I’m okay too.” The cousins laughed and hugged each other. Each of the kids was checked over by medical technicians and EMTs. Their scrapes were cleaned and where necessary, butterfly bandages were added. Stitches would have to wait until they were examined at the hospital ER.
Shaw shook the hands of the other three operators solemnly. “Guys, I owe you one...”
One of them, the tallest smiled. “All in a day’s work, Mr. Shaw.” Shaw smiled and sat down on the ground and pulling out his cell phone, he dialed Emma. “We got ‘em Baby, they’re bruised up a little but they’re okay. Medics are taking them to Honolulu General, I’ll meet you there. I’ve got to call Paul.”
Redialing, Shaw said into the phone, “Paul, they’re okay. We have them and they’re safe.” In the background he could hear Annie crying. “They are transporting the kids to Honolulu General; Emma will meet you there and I’ll head up there as soon as everything here is wrapped up. Got to go, we’ll talk soon.”
He broke the connection without hearing Paul’s thanks and called Michael Rourke.
Shaw fumbled in his pocket for a cigarette and his lighter. He could smell the salt water on the breeze; he looked up and watched a single seagull soaring on the air thermals rising from shore. In a slow, tired voice, he said to himself, “I’m getting too old for this...” Taking another drag on the cigarette, he crossed his legs and leaned back on one arm. “Yeah, I’m getting too old for this,” he said to the seagull. The smile on his face said otherwise.
Chapter Nineteen
The scene was secure; William Alan Davis and Lee Elwood McAllen lay unconscious on stretchers as the medics worked on them. Davis had taken three rounds; two in the chest and a third had grazed his neck. The chest wounds were serious; the medic said, “I’ve got him stable but he needs surgery as soon as possible, I think an artery was nicked.”
McAllen had fired six shots from his revolver at the operators, none scoring a hit. The operators had returned the favor with more accuracy. McAllen had lost his right thumb; it had been hit when a round blew the little revolver across the room. He took two rounds high on the left side; his medic diagnosed them as “both through and through.” McAllen had spun around from the impact; another round had smashed his spinal column.
An EMT said, “Call for the buses, we have to get these two to surgery, STAT! That means, ‘sooner than already there.’ Let’s go!”
Outside a flurry of activity continued; motor cycles, police cars, three ambulances and two fire trucks stood by silently, flashing their emergency lights. Barricades were being set up and the streets would be blocked off for several more hours as the scene of the gun battle was processed.
Phillips, Walker and Shaw stood silently watching. “Kids appear to be okay; Docs at Honolulu General will probably want to keep them overnight for observation just to be on the safe side. The parents are enroute to them now,” Walker said.
Phillips said, “No casualties on my side.”
“None here either,” Walker said. “Pleasure working with both of you.”
“Gentlemen it was a good operation,” Shaw said. “I speak for the parents and the family when I say you have our undying gratitude. Now if you will excuse me, I’ll be at the hospital if you need me. Thank you, thank you again.”
Shaw walked to his car and climbing in, turned the ignition; it was over.
Emma, Paul and Annie arrived within seconds of each other. They ran up the ramp leading to the Emergency Room and through the cordon of police officers and EMTS. Paula, Natalie and Jack sat on chairs inside one curtained-off room, watching Tim about to get stitches.
“Man, look at the size of that needle,” Jack said, as Tim sat stoically on the edge of the hospital bed. Tim gave him a blazing glance which broke into a wide smile when he saw Emma. “Mom, we’re all okay, I promise.”
Emma and Annie swarmed toward the kids with Paul a half step behind. Paula and Natalie broke into tears as they hugged their mothers. Paul grabbed Jack up in a bear hug, just as Tim Shaw walked in; he leaned back against the wall and smiled. Paul turned and with Jack, walked over to him.
“Tim,” Paul asked, “What can I say? Thank you.”
“I’m just glad they’re safe. Have you spoken to Michael?”
“Yes, he called right after we left the house to come here. He and Natalia are on their way now to the hospital.”
Shaw smiled as he ruffled Jack’s hair. “Good,” was all he could think to say before he put his arm around his daughter.
Emma looked at him for a long moment and tiptoed to kiss him lightly on the cheek. “Thank you, Dad, thank you so much.”
Annie turned around and gave him a big hug, wet tears transferring from her cheek to his. “Tim...” she started but stopped. Shaw wrapped his other arm around her and just stood there, quietly.
Chapter Twenty
“McAllen will be paralyzed from the waist down from now on,” the surgeon said as he walked up to Shaw, removing his surgical mask and cap. “The slug in his back... well, we got it out but the damage had already been done. He’s down in ICU.”
“What about Davis?” Shaw asked.
“Don’t know, you can wait on his surgeon, I’m going for a cup of coffee,” the doctor said, and walked slowly off. Shaw watched his sweat-soaked back turn the corner. The doors to the other operating suite opened and Davis’ surgeon walked out.
“Well?” Shaw asked.
“He’ll survive; the EMT was right, one of the slugs nicked an artery. Once we had the bleeder under control, it was pretty much a text book case. We have moved him to ICU, for observation. If we didn’t miss something and have to open him up again, you can talk to him in a couple of hours.”
Shaw nodded and turned to the police officer next to him. “I want guards outside their doors 24/7 until I say different. Handcuff them both to their beds, and I want an officer inside the rooms with each of them.” The officer nodded and walked off speaking into the microphone on his shoulder.
Shaw looked around, everything that needed to be done had been. He glanced at the wall clock above the nurse’s station and counted back. “Hmmm,” Shaw said to himself. “Seems like this has been going on for a week, time must have stopped. It’s only been nineteen hours since this nightmare started.” He dug out his lighter and removed the last cigarette from the pack. He crumpled the pack and his empty coffee cup, tossing both in a waste basket as he walked slowly past the elevator. He stopped at the nurse’s station, made sure his instructions were understood and walked out of the hospital.
“Damn,” he said as he stepped outside. “It’s dark already.” He lit the cigarette, fumbled for his car keys and walked slowly to the car. With the engine running, he keyed the microphone, gave his call sign and said, “I’m leaving the hospital, I’m heading home. Everything quiet?”
“Affirmative.”
“Good, keep it that way. I’m going to bed.” Thirty minutes later he parked his car in the street and walked slowly up the drive. Once inside, he walked to his bed, kicking his shoes off on the way. He lay down, still in his clothes, took two deep breaths. He didn’t move for the next ten hours.
Evening descended on the quiet streets of Honolulu, the dusk-to-dawn curfew instituted when the disease crisis started, was still in effect. The only sound to be heard was an insistent buzzing. The buzzing of tiny wings; a lot of them.
Chapter Twenty-One
“Mom, the kids are okay,” Michael said into the phone the next morning. “Tim Shaw was there when the police rescued them. They’re being examined at the hospital as we speak. I’ve talked to Emma, Paul and Annie and th
ey are okay.”
Sarah Rourke-Mann, First Lady of New Germany, breathed a sigh of relief, “Thank God. I’ll call Wolfgang and tell him the good news. I’m on the presidential jet and headed your way.” Checking the time, she said, “I’ll be landing at Honolulu International in less than an hour. I’ve been waiting on your call; I will see you at the hospital. Any word on your father?”
“No Mom,” Michael said. “I’ll brief you on that when you get here. I’ll have the Secret Service meet you at the airport and they’ll bring you to the hospital. I’m glad you’re coming, Mom.”
Sarah broke the connection and sat unmoving for a moment, Too much, she thought. Too much for me to deal with but, I don’t have a choice, do I? She pulled the information card from the seat pocket and glanced at the information about HI Airport and its next door neighbor, Hickam Air Force Base. Hickam was one of the few remaining totally Air Force controlled facilities in the world. The Japanese bombed Hickam and Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941.
She knew all of that. I can’t seem to keep my mind focused, she thought as an inexplicable sense of dread settled on her.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Otto Croenberg stood outside the hospital next to Paul Rubenstein; this time he wore the white jacket of a medical technician and a shortly cut, dark brown wig. A dozen Secret Service agents milled around in plain clothes acting like hospital visitors taking a break. Paul turned to Croenberg. “Otto, I really appreciate you being here. It means a lot.”
Croenberg simply shook his hand and with a soft smile said, “Where else would I be, my friend? I’m glad the children are alright.”
