“OK boss, got it. Everybody have their seatbelts fastened? Good, then we’re off.”
Even though it was nine o’clock on a Sunday evening, the traffic was as thick as downtown Chicago at rush hour. Everybody was in a hurry going nowhere fast. For a while Keren though it would take them as long to get to the meeting place from the airport as it had to fly from Branson to Las Vegas. An hour and ten minutes later they were taking the Spring Mountain exit off the freeway.
“When you come to the light make a left, Ted. Get into the right lane. In just a little while you’ll come to the intersection of Sammy Davis Jr. Dr. Keep a look out for a narrow driveway with flashing red and yellow signal lights above it.
Turn right and pull up to the chain-link gate. The key pad is on your side. Punch in ‘four-five-four-five’ and hit ‘enter’. The gate will open and you’ll be on a ramp leading to an underground tunnel.
Once at the intersection, make a left turn and follow the blue lights that are the lane markers for the Tropicana. This is the VIP access to the casinos so the high-rollers don’t have to deal with the peasants. Once we get to the Tropicana VIP parking area there will be someone there waiting to direct us further. Got all that?”
“Piece of cake boss, no problem.”
“Geeze Louise,”; exclaimed Keren, “It’s like something out of a cheap spy novel.”
“Yup, something like that.” chuckled Petris.
As Ted pulled into the VIP parking area at the Tropicana Keren looked at her watch. It read ten thirty-two.
11 WHAT HAPPENS IN VEGAS
The day dawned partly cloudy with a pleasant seventy-degree temperature. There was nothing to indicate that this day would be anything less than another perfect day in the adult playground that was Las Vegas.
Maurice Laughlin decided to sleep in since he had been up late the night before losing heavily at the gaming tables. He was distracted and uneasy about MaryJane’s presence and her sticking her nose into his deal. This deal didn’t involve A & C as far as he could see and the clients were goosey enough without adding someone strange to them into the mix.
Since Sid Fleer was on the A & C payroll exactly for contingencies like this. The previous evening MaryJane Dimaguiba made one discreet phone call and suddenly, the folks in suite 32-336 were informed that they were being upgraded and within an hour MaryJane was setting up the necessary supplies and equipment needed to insure that the plan would go forward without any glitches. This was all accomplished before she had accompanied Loughlin’s dinner into his suite the previous evening.
Now it was Sunday morning. All the preparations were in place and the only thing left was to wait.
Suite 32-336 was decorated in a Rococo theme complete with an ornate replica of a statue of the Greek Muse, Clio.
It is a copy of one perched atop a doorway leading from Statuary Hall to the Speaker’s Office and the US Capitol Rotunda. She stands in a winged “Car of History.” The face of a clock doubles as one of the wheels of the chariot or car. Clio’s “car” signifies the unflagging march of time.
In the Sunday silence of the suite, MaryJane heard something, a solitary ticking, inaudible during the daily commotion at the hotel. The sound she heard emanated from the wheel of Clio’s history chariot.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
The ticking was muted. But there it was. A tiny sound.
MaryJane mentally went over the plans that included Colonel Bin Ghazi and his detachment. Were all the “I’s” dotted and the “t’s” crossed? Were Bin Ghazi’s operators thoroughly trained and up to the task?
What was the best way to handle the problem of Loughlin? If this operation was a total success would C & A see fit to advance MaryJane in rank and authority?
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
The silent desolation of the building seemingly ballooned the milliseconds between each tick, filling a temporal chasm which seemed longer than a second. And just when you thought the next tick wouldn’t come, there it was.
Sharp.
Staccato.
Deliberate.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
The ticking reminded MaryJane that the longer she sat there, she was losing time. The hotel floor was barren, otherwise frozen in suspended animation. But appearances can be deceiving. Time wasn’t stopping.
The Route 91 Harvest Festival had been billed as a #ThreeDayNeonSleepover.
Rolling Stone called it one of the first of its kind for bringing a heavy-hitting billing of top country artists and up-and-comers to Vegas, and reporting that the venue catered to 30,000 strong.
On June 17, the festival announced via Instagram that the event had sold out "in record time." According to the festival's website, a general admission pass for the entire festival cost $210. Various VIP packages were available ranging from $375 to $750.
Eric Church took the stage Friday night as the main act, following a day of performances by Lee Brice, Brothers Osborne and Michael Ray.
On Saturday, hip hop cross-over Sam Hunt closed out the day of music from fellow performers Maren Morris, Lauren Alaina, Bobby Bones and the Raging Idiots and Brett Young, among others.
Owen, Big & Rich, Kane Brown, the Josh Abbott Band, Tyler Reeve and Dee Jay Silver performed on the Main Stage throughout the day on Sunday.
6:30pm: The Rebel Group at North Vegas Executive Airport.
The six birds were configured with the necessary equipment to execute the mission. Each fire team was given its final designator; ‘Assembler’ was to under be the Colonel’s personal control, birds #2 & #3, ‘Afflicter’ and ‘Destroyer’, were designated as snipers and cover teams, Birds #4 & #5, ‘Sweeper’ and ‘Scraper’ were designated as on-site assault units.
The next two hours were spent checking out weapons and equipment, testing the communication gear but mostly going over the operation point by point to make certain that every member of the fire teams was clear on their objectives and assignments.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
9:00pm: Maurice Laughlin was sitting in an armchair by one of the windows overlooking the festival performers. After sealing the stairway door MaryJane let herself into the suite. She was carrying an oversized brown kidskin purse.
“Don’t you knock before coming into someone’s room lady?”, he growled. “I coulda been naked or with a woman or something.”
“You don’t have anything I haven’t seen before and I don’t think you’re stupid enough to be banging some bimbo this close to the time of doing business. I wanted to make sure that I was already here before your customer arrived.”
“He’s a middle-eastern male and probably won’t be thrilled about your being here. How do I explain your presence?”
“Screw him. Explain it however it suits you or don’t explain it at all. I don’t give a shit either way. I’m just here to make sure that nothing about this deal messes up anything for the C & A. We wouldn’t have to have this discussion if you hadn’t decided to do a little free-lancing on my turf and kept the boss informed.”
“Okay. Okay. Don’t get your drawers in a wad. I’ll handle it. Just, please, don’t say or do anything to queer my deal.”
9:15pm: Assembler, Afflicter and Destroyer lift off from the Rebel hangar area headed for the helipad on the top of the Mandalay bay. It takes only five minutes for arrive and they touch down with no incident.
9:30pm: “Sweeper, Scraper; Assembler, proceed.” Bin Ghazi orders Sweeper and Scraper to get to their assigned target, the area behind the Tropicana where they could stage before the assault began.
9:45pm: Assembler; Sweeper on site. Assembler; Scraper on site.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
9:45pm: Jake Owen, the opening act for Jason Aldean finished playing on the main stage of the festival across from the Mandalay Bay. Jason Aldine took center stage and after a few brief
remarks began his set. Even though they were thirty-two floors up and behind the thick tempered glass windows the music was clearly audible.
9:45pm: There is a knock at the door of the suite and Laughlin hurries to answer it.
“Good evening Youssef, good to see you.”
“Hello Loughlin. Who is the woman? This was supposed to be between us.”
“Not to worry Youssef. She is an associate of mine here for other business. I assure you that she will stay in the background and not interfere.”
“Very well Laughlin but know that I am not pleased with changes. They complicate things unnecessarily. Let us begin to examine what you have brought for me this trip.”
Maurice opened the first crate of AK-47’s for the Colonel to look over.
“These don’t look as well made as the last shipment Laughlin. Are you sure these are the genuine Russian builds and not that North Korean crap?”
“They’re the same stuff as I always have gotten for you Youssef. Top quality. Or at least as close to top quality as you are going to get from the Russians.”
The Colonel took his time examining a number of the weapons. He worked the charging handles and examined the barrels. It seemed strange that this time he was being so cautious about the merchandise.
In past transactions he had just taken a cursory look and paid. Loughlin wondered if this was some ploy to renegotiate the price. That certainly wasn’t going to happen. He could hear Mary Jane giving a derisive snort from where she was standing behind him over his left shoulder.
He was grateful that she had the good sense not to say anything as the Jihadist had already made his displeasure over her presence known at the very beginning when he had arrived.
There was a sudden commotion from the ledge outside the suite. They all turned in that direction to see what had caused the noise and as Maurice took one step, MaryJane brought the Woodsman twenty-two from the waistband at her mid-back, swung it quickly in line with the base of Loughlin’s skull and squeezed the trigger. Once.
The last thing that went through Maurice Loughlin’s mind was thirty-six grains of copper clad lead travelling at 1260 feet per second. It exited his lower forehead spraying pink foamy blood and gray brain matter until it embedded itself into the ceiling.
Maurice was dead before he hit the floor.
9:58pm; A security guard investigating a reported strange sound arrived on the 32nd floor and found the door to the emergency stairway blocked with a wedge. He heard one shot apparently from suite 32-3??
“Security. Is everything OK in there?”
Colonel Bin Ghazi took three long strides towards the door while retrieving the UZI from under his shirt and activating the charging handle in one fluid motion. He pointed the weapon about two-thirds of the way down the door and stitched a five shot burst about waist high.
Time to get this show on the road Colonel”, MaryJane said as if she were discussing leaving for a shopping trip. She quickly retrieved her bag and pulled out an old-fashioned glass cutter, walked over to the first window and made a few scratches in the lower left-hand corner.
“What the hell are you doing lady?” Bin Ghazi agitatedly barked. “We have work to do.”
“Watch and learn Colonel.”, she replied making the same kind of scratches in the lower left corner of the second window. Having satisfied herself that everything was in order so far, she withdrew a plastic cone-shaped object from her bag and attached it over the area she had scratched in the glass. She repeated her actions with a second object and withdrew what looked to be a TV remote from her bag along with two sets of shooters’ ear plugs.
“Better put these in your ears Colonel, unless you want to spend the next two days deaf as a post.”
Bin Ghazi didn’t argue but did as she told him wondering to himself what this bit of theater was all about. Once she had her own earplugs in place and saw he had done the same she pressed a red button at the top of the remote device. Immediately there was a loud sound emanating from the cones attached to the windows and Bin Ghazi watched as the tempered glass began to ripple like the surface of a puddle. The sound was still painful to his ears even with the plugs. This went on for what seemed like forever but it was only about fifteen seconds before the two windows began to disintegrate into small fragments.
“Neat little toys don’t you think Colonel? Little buggers work on the principle of acoustic resonance. Makes it look as if what is about to happen down below came from here in this room.”
“Quite impressive lady. I’ll have to ask for some of those in my next shipment of supplies.”
“It’s not likely that the Firm would share these goodies with you Colonel, but you can always ask.”
Bin Ghazi still didn’t like her but had to admit that she had the heart of a warrior.
10:05pm: “Assembler; all units, Go! I repeat, GO!
The two snipers on the 32nd floor ledges opened up with their weapons on the crowd simultaneously while the Colonel and MaryJane headed out of the suite toward the stairwell. The security guard was unconscious and bleeding and would be no problem to them.
While the sniper fire appeared random there was a well thought out pattern to the shooting. The concert venue had been set up so that the fencing provided only one public way in and out and one entrance/exit behind the stage for the performers.
When the shooting first started those who heard it thought it was part of the finale of the show, until people started crying out and falling, bleeding from gunshot wounds. It was then that the crowd began to panic. The fencing acted like the chutes in a slaughter house, funneling the panicked concert goers into the killing zone.
10:16 pm: “Las Vegas 911, what is your emergency?”
“We’re at the Mandalay Bay and there’s people getting shot here.”
“Can you see people shooting inside the hotel?”
“I think we saw the guy flying in a helicopter. […] You guys need officers in the sky because he’s flying in a helicopter.”
“Las Vegas Dispatch we are on the 31st floor of the Mandalay Bay. There is shooting one floor above us. Roll SWAT.”
The Colonel and MaryJane hurried up the two flights to the thirty-fourth floor where the rest of the Assembler team awaited them in front of the door of the only suite on the floor.
All team members and MaryJane donned their ear protection and with a nod from the Colonel the team member closest to the door produced a breaching charge from his ruck, placed it against the frame and activated the time-delay piezo trigger. Five seconds later the door was no longer a barrier and the assault team entered the suite. Two of the Crown Princes’ security detail lay on the floor killed by the shock of the explosion. The team quickly cleared the rest of the suite and found only one more occupant, another member of the Crown Princes’ security team. He was mortally wounded but still alive.
“Where is the Prince?”, demanded Bin Ghazi.
“Help me brother.”, the wounded man moaned.
“I will help you brother, but it is imperative you tell me where the Prince is. He is in grave danger.”
“He went to the Tropicana to gamble. The rest of his security detail is with him. They will protect him. Please, my brother, help me.”, the wounded man gasped and coughed up pink foamy blood.
“I will help you brother,” the Colonel said as he raised the UZI and fired one shot into the mans’ forehead.
Bin Ghazi brought the communications microphone to his lips and pressed the key; “Abort, abort, abort. Charming is at Sweeper-Scraper base. Fall back. Plan “B”.”
Before retreating to his helo on the roof, Destroyer fired a number of rounds toward the fuel tanks at McCarran airport which was well within range. Hoping to set off an explosion as a diversionary tactic and knowing that the local law enforcement would soon be converging on this location. He was sure that a number of his rounds had hit the tanks but was disappointed when there was no subsequent explosion.
10:27pm: “Afflicter, Destroyer; Asse
mbler. Provide air cover for ground teams. Night vision shows friendlies.”
“What the hell is that all about?”, MaryJane asks.
“Our people got some paint from your techies. Stuff is visible to night vision. Backs of our guys are marked with ID so we don’t have friendly-fire casualties.”
10:32pm: Petris announced to the others; “Best to check the weapons before we get out of the vehicle. Make sure that everything is in readiness and that they are well concealed before we go traipsing through the lobby. No point in getting anyone’s undies in a bunch for no reason.”
Once they were sure that everything was in order, they exited the Escalade and began to look for their contact person.
A Wake of Vultures Page 13
