Viper Team Seven (The Viper Team Seven Series Book 1)

by Lewis, Rykar

  “We may want to check into that,” the VP went on. “If that’s what’s been going on then it’ll be easy to fix. The only hard part would be proving that it’s true.”

  “Check into that, Mike,” the President ordered. “We’ll be right here waiting for you.”

  * * *

  The D/CIA trudged back into the Situation Room and peeled out of his suit coat. “It’s a wild goose chase, Mr. President; there are just too many vehicles on that road. We’re going to have to wait and see if any of the vehicles actually turn onto I-40 with the terrorists. If any do, then we can narrow it down a bit but right now it’s just impossible.”

  Winnfield pulled at his collar and stared at the floor. “I need options. Anything will be helpful. Mike do you have anything?” The D/CIA shook his head, indicating his lack of ideas. “Nat?” The Secret Service Director also had nothing. “Frank? Josh?” Both men were silent. “Stan? Tom?”

  “I am reluctant to mention this, Mr. President,” the NSA started, “but there always is the option of that drone missile strike.”

  “No,” the President denied quickly. “I need something else.”

  “The terrorists have got to fill up on gas sometime don’t they?” Travis stated suddenly. “Well when they do, then we could jump them.”

  “No, no, that wouldn’t do,” Cummins retorted. “There’d be too many civilians around for that. They’d be caught in the crossfire.”

  “Then what?” the DNI demanded.

  “Calm down,” Smith commanded. “Shouting won’t do us any good. We’ve got to think hard and find a way to outsmart vun Buvka. We need to do it quickly too because he’s approaching some very large cities. He’ll be like a kid in a candy shop if we don’t stop him soon.”

  “We’ll stop him all right,” the President assured. “If it’s the last thing I do I’ll make sure he’s stopped.”

  “I believe you, Mr. President,” Travis interjected. “But how? Nothing so far has worked.”

  Winnfield glanced up to the ceiling before looking to Travis. “All right then, Mr. Director of National Intelligence, do you have something brilliant you want to add? Because nothing you’ve suggested so far has been very plausible.”

  “Well, if I were you, Mr. President–”

  “You aren’t so don’t think like you are.”

  Tempers were beginning to flare up and the irritation everyone felt was making the room feel far too small. Every man knew that arguing wasn’t going to get them anywhere but they didn’t know what would.

  “I should be offended by that, Mr. President, but given the responsibilities you have, I won’t take it personally,” the DNI casually responded.

  “Well you’d better take it personally, Mr. Director, because things are going to get really personal if you don’t come up with something soon.”

  “Now it’s my responsibility?”

  “You do what you’re told, Travis, and keep your mouth shut unless I say to open it.”

  Travis’ eyes went wide and the President could see uneasiness spread over the man’s face.

  “And that goes for the rest of you,” Winnfield snapped. “If you can’t do your jobs then don’t pretend like you can. I need advisors here not a bunch of snot-nosed kids that can’t add two plus two.”

  That said, the President stood up and stormed out of the room.

  “Uh, gentlemen if you can wait here I’ll be back in a few,” the VP informed them.

  The Vice President also left the Situation Room to go have a heart-to-heart discussion with the President. He didn’t meet up with him, however, until Winnfield entered the Oval Office and closed the door. Without knocking, Anders opened the door, walked into the office, then closed the door behind him.

  “You know it’s customary to knock before opening that door,” the President said hotly. “And did I ask to see you?”

  “No but you need to.”

  “I think I can be the judge of that.”

  “What’s wrong with you, Mr. President?” the VP pressed. “Why are you cutting everyone’s head off? This isn’t our fault you know.”

  Winnfield was about to come apart. His reaction to the stress he was under was to get angry at whoever was close by, and right now his best friend was that someone.

  “Maybe it’s just that my advisors already don’t have heads. If they do they sure don’t use them like they should.”

  Anders shook his head in disgust and tried to find the right words to say.

  “Don’t say it,” the President commanded. “I think we’ve already said everything there is to say.”

  “Not even close, Mr. President. Look, just because you can’t handle the pressure doesn’t mean you’ve got to bite our heads off. I’ve never known you to quit like this. I thought you were decorated in the Army for being a good leader. If that’s what the Army thinks is good then they can have it. I’m going back to the Situation Room and I’m not leaving until this thing’s done and over with.”

  Anders whipped around and swung open the door. Just before leaving he added, “You made a promise to America last night. You said you’d do everything you could to make sure this nation was secure. If you won’t live up to that then I will…Mr. President.”

  The door slammed shut and Winnfield was left alone in the Oval Office.

  * * *

  “Let’s get a plan going,” Anders told the NSA and Directors. “It doesn’t have to be perfect, but come on, we must do something.”

  The VP had resumed the meeting and was now taking over the President’s position. He felt bad for saying the things he’d said to his friend – true or not, Winnfield still was his superior – but what was done was done.

  “I need an option,” the Vice President begged. “Just one. Someone please say something.”

  The National Security Advisor cleared his throat and nervously rubbed his hand. “Mr. Vice President, where...well...what is the President doing? He’s needed here. Where on earth is he?”

  “He’s pouting in his office because...oh I don’t know why. But who cares? If he’s going to give up then we sure can’t.”

  “Who said I was giving up?” the President asked.

  All eyes turned to the Situation Room’s doorway where the President was standing. “Well I have news for you, I’m not giving up. ‘I have not yet begun to fight,’ to be exact.”

  “Um, sir,” the VP stammered, knowing he needed to apologize, “I need to say something, Mr. President.”

  The President went to take his seat and responded, “Not before I say something. You’re right; completely right. I owe you my deepest apologies, Stan, and everyone for that matter.”

  “I guess we all need a reminder of what’s right every now and then,” Anders replied. “But you don’t owe anyone anything except a part in this meeting.”

  Winnfield nodded in acceptance and let out a long sigh. “Well gentlemen, I don’t know what to say other than that I’m stumped.”

  “We all are, Mr. President,” the Secret Service Director admitted. “Let’s just hope the terrorists get the same way.”

  “Yes I know, but not one of us is going to leave this room until the entire operation is over.”

  * * *

  Parks, Marler, and Norse were all inside a brand new Ford F-350. Not far behind them, there was a Yukon SUV which carried Solomon, Corley, Lee, and Samuels. In front of Parks’ truck was the terrorists’ Suburban. It was a delicate job trying to stay just far enough behind to where it was not obvious that Parks was following them. But he was doing the best he could.

  The National Security Advisor had recently contacted him with the order to follow the terrorists by vehicle, and he had said that the vehicles would be provided by the JTTF Field Office in Knoxville, Tennessee. So Parks and his team had made tracks for the JTTF Field Office via the Iroquois-Hueys.

  Parks’ job was to just keep an eye on the terrorists and follow them until they reached a gas station, or some other sort of stop. When they d
id, that’s when his team would make their move. Parks had been strictly ordered to make sure no civilians got involved in any way. It was an order he was backing completely.

  Parks had already gone over the plans with his team, and everybody had agreed that though difficult, they were achievable. In fact, it was almost the same plan they would have used on the road except that it could not be performed if any civilians were around. It was a one-in-a-thousand chance that they would ever even get to attempt this operation, and there was an even smaller success ratio. But what worried Parks most was how these terrorists knew so much. It was uncanny and very frightening.

  * * *

  “VIPER BRAVO, this is VIPER ALPHA. Do you copy? Over,” Parks said into his radio.

  A second later, his radio cracked to life. “VIPER ALPHA, this is VIPER BRAVO. Go ahead. Over.”

  “The Sub’s going to have to stop for gas soon. There’s a station up ahead. Break. Looks like it might work. Get your team ready. Over.”

  “Aye, aye, VIPER ALPHA, we’re standing by. Out.”

  Parks stared out the windshield into the darkening evening. He was determined to make this operation work, or die trying.

  Just then, the Suburban’s brake lights flashed on and the vehicle began to slow. It turned for the exit that led to a small town on the Virginia border, and then sped off. Parks hung back a bit and then copied the action.

  “Everyone ready?” he asked, desperate not to let his nerves be evident in his voice.

  “Yeah, let’s get this thing over with,” Norse declared. “We’ve played around long enough.”

  Parks felt for his own personal Colt .45 revolver that was resting beside him and ran his hand up and down the cold metal. For this operation, each man was clad in civilian clothes and toted a sidearm instead of an M4 carbine. That way they could blend with the public and not be noticed as easily. Each man on each team was equipped with two CS gas grenades, a sidearm, and a wrist-mounted radio. They all knew what they had to do and when to do it. They understood the value of vun Buvka, and that they might have to give their lives just to see that he was captured. Everyone was willing to do so, and for that Parks respected them.

  The three vehicles entered the town and while the terrorists drove to the gas station, Parks and Solomon parked their vehicles in a nearby parking lot.

  “Everyone out,” Parks ordered his team. “We don’t have much time.”

  The truck’s doors opened and slammed shut just as Solomon and his three men ran up, ready for action.

  “Norse, Corley, go ahead,” Parks commanded.

  Both men casually walked toward the gas station, looking as if they were merely passing by without any reason.

  “Lee, Samuels, go around back. Solomon, Marler, drive the Yukon in. Hurry it up.”

  Everyone scurried to obey their orders and Parks ran to go meet up with Norse and Corley. When he did, he looked over at the gas station and saw Solomon drive his vehicle into position.

  Very cautiously, Parks spoke into his wrist-mounted radio. “VIPER BRAVO, this is VIPER ALPHA. Are you ready? Over.”

  “Yeah, sure am. Over,” Solomon said.

  “Okay, stand by. Out.”

  Parks then checked up on Lee and Samuels. “VIPER FOXTROT, this is VIPER ALPHA. Are you guys ready? Over.”

  “Affirmative, VIPER ALPHA. We’ll start whenever you say so. Over,” Lee confirmed without delay.

  “Roger that. Stand by. We’ll be ready in a minute. Out.”

  Parks and his two men moved into position and each took in a long breath. Parks nodded to his team members and then spoke again into his radio. “All VIPER units, this is VIPER ALPHA. Go!”

  No sooner were the words out of his mouth when another vehicle pulled up to the gas station. Parks’ heart stopped. He knew that he had to call off the dogs but he had just ordered them to go. Would he be able to stop the attack before these civilians were involved?

  In a flash he gave another order into his radio, hoping it would be heeded in time. “No, no, no, no, no. Abort, I repeat, abort. Call it off.”

  Parks tried to act calm and cool but it wasn’t working. He knew he couldn’t stay here out in the open because it would be too obvious he was waiting. But he also knew he just couldn’t leave. He needed a plan, and fast. The entire operation had almost crumbled just from an unfortunate occurrence. Maybe if he was careful he could catch the terrorists on their way out. At least he had to try.

  “All VIPER units, this is VIPER ALPHA,” Parks began. “Be advised, we’re going to commence the attack after they pull away from the pump. Get ready. Out.”

  Parks and the other two men split off and tried to look like they were merely killing time, when really, he wanted to shift them to better positions. He knew that Lee and Samuels were still behind the building and wouldn’t be able to come up as soon as they were needed, and the same could be said about Solomon. So Parks, Norse, and Corley had to handle this alone at first.

  Parks saw that as Norse strolled along he pulled out a small camera and discreetly took a snapshot from the hip, capturing the terrorist that was pumping the gas. Then just as soon as he’d pulled it out, he put the camera away, as if nothing had happened.

  “Good work, VIPER ECHO,” Parks commended over the radio. “Stand by; it looks like they’re getting ready to leave. Over.”

  “Yeah I noticed, VIPER ALPHA. I’m ready for them. Over.”

  The Suburban started up but didn’t move. It was just idling and Parks could see the driver conversing with someone in the backseat. Then the other vehicle that had pulled up also started, and began to drive off. A mere second later, the terrorists started to leave, and the horrifying part was that the two vehicles were driving bumper-to-bumper, which made it impossible for Parks to do anything.

  “Oh...gee...man...gosh,” Parks grumbled as he helplessly watched the terrorists pull out onto the main road, protected by the closeness of the other vehicle.

  He didn’t move until the terrorists were out of sight, and then he radioed in to his team. “All VIPER units, this is VIPER ALPHA. Head back to the vehicles,” he ordered. “We’ve lost them again. Out.”

  44

  Wednesday, March 26th – 1800 hours

  Seventy Miles from Washington D.C.

  For the first time since his childhood Sunday School days, Parks began to pray. Not out loud and definitely not skillfully, but nevertheless it was a prayer. His team was still following the terrorists and they were somewhere near Front Royal, Virginia, less than seventy miles from the outskirts of Washington D.C. He knew if he was going to make a move it had to be soon, but he wasn’t sure what to do. So that’s why he was praying. He was asking God to help him accomplish this mission no matter what he did.

  God, Parks started somewhat reluctantly, I don’t really know how to do this or who exactly You are, but, well...I really need You to help me on this operation. I’ve tried my best every single time and I’ve just fallen flat on my face. I don’t know why. I also don’t know what to do now. I realize I’ve done some things that You probably don’t like but I believe You are in Heaven or some place like that. Anyway, I need Your help. Please God, do this for me.

  Parks felt foolish. If what the church lady had said was right, then why would God listen to his prayer when he wasn’t “saved”? Why would He do something nice for someone who wouldn’t even accept His gift of Jesus? But Parks wasn’t all too sure that really was right. He believed in the One and Only, true God, like the lady did, but he didn’t know if he believed everything about Him that she did.

  Interrupting his thoughts, the radio cracked to life and Solomon’s voice boomed over it. “VIPER ALPHA, this is VIPER BRAVO. You know how close we are to D.C.? Over.”

  Parks concentrated on his job again and answered the question. “I know, VIPER BRAVO. Over.”

  “Well what are we going to do? Over.”

  “Not sure yet. We need to do something that’ll end this cat and mouse game though. Over.”
/>
  “Like what? Over.”

  Parks thought about how to best answer that. “A miracle, VIPER BRAVO. A miracle. Out.”

  * * *

  Near Centreville, Virginia, Parks really began to sweat. Time was running out. Options were near zero. Failure seemed imminent. Something needed to happen fast that would turn the tables for the better, but nothing was working to that extent.

  “Hey look there, KP,” Norse said.

  “What? What are you talking about?” Parks asked urgently.

  “The terrorists just took the exit that goes to Centreville.”

  Parks swallowed hard. “We have to do something now. There’s only one reason why they’re going to Centreville, and we have to stop them.”

  “Yeah but how?”

  “I don’t know how you guys feel about this but I’d rather have all the terrorists dead than have vun Buvka alive and running loose. What I’m trying to say, is that if it came down to it we can always kill them all, which would make things easier. I don’t want to lose my job but there are more important things.”

  “I’m glad that finally dawned on you,” Norse declared quietly. “I decided that a long time ago.”

  Parks didn’t respond to that statement. He didn’t have time to be squabbling with Norse over a petty jealousy. Not when lives of Americans were on the line.

  “Jim, you mind radioing in to Solomon and telling him the deal?” Parks asked.

  “What deal?” Corley wondered.

  “Tell him how we may have to resort to killing them all. Get his opinion and get it fast.”

  Corley obeyed the order as Parks and Norse watched the terrorists’ every move. They were barely into the city when Solomon’s opinion was relayed.

  “KP, Solomon says that he fully agrees,” Corley explained. “But he thinks we ought to kill them now. He also asked how you plan to pull that off.”

  “Well, we can fill their vehicle full of hand grenades – we have those don’t we?”

  Corley half-nodded.

  “Good,” Parks stated. “That’s a sure way to take them out. We’re going to need Solomon’s team for backup, and we’ll take the front. Greg, Jim, I want you guys to be shooting those grenades, but I also want you to be ready for a gunfight. We’ll have Solomon’s guys set up the same way. Pass that plan on to Solomon will you Jim?”