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

by Lewis, Rykar

  “Hey wait. Look there,” Norse interjected, pointing to the Suburban ahead of them. “It looks like the terrorists are going to turn into...into that restaurant. See their blinker?”

  “What restaurant?” Parks demanded.

  “The one on the left there,” Norse replied. “That big one with all those vehicles parked in front of it.”

  Parks didn’t have to be told that the terrorists weren’t going there to dine. Given the number of vehicles in front, it seemed to be a perfect target for a terrorist attack.

  The terrorists turned off into the restaurant’s parking lot and Parks followed. He knew that he might be able to take them as they went into the restaurant but he had about a minute to get ready. Was it enough time? Would he in turn be butchering his own team?

  “Tell Solomon to forget the last plan and prepare for an outright gunfight,” he ordered to Corley. “And tell him we’re going to try and capture vun Buvka but not at the expense of harming civilians. If it looks like he’s going to escape, take him out.”

  “You got it.”

  “And then both of you get yourselves ready. We’re going to have to jump into this fight headlong.”

  Parks put his truck in park right out in front of the restaurant. He could see the terrorists in their vehicle as he debated his next move. This is so uncoordinated, he thought. Someone’s bound to get hurt doing this.

  Corley passed out a couple of grenades to each man – half of which were CS gas – and pulled out his pistol. A mere second later, Solomon pulled his Yukon up alongside Parks’ truck and gave the nod of approval. Parks hit the “unlock” button and grabbed for the door handle.

  “Ready?” he asked his team.

  “Let’s go,” Norse responded, gripping his pistol with immense vigor.

  Parks flung his door open and that’s when he saw movement at the restaurant’s doors. It was a large group of people that had just finished dining and were coming out to their vehicles – which would put them right in the line of fire.

  “Wait,” Parks commanded.

  Fortunately, no one else had opened their doors, so to cover things up, Parks did get out and he strolled into the restaurant.

  “Where’s he going?” Norse asked Corley. “Is he trying to get himself killed?”

  Corley shook his head slowly and watched, ready to come up and help Parks if necessary.

  As he approached the restaurant doors, Parks pulled his light jacket down further so his pistol would be concealed, and reached for the door handle. Before he could grasp it however, someone from inside swung it open and almost hit him in the face.

  “Welcome sir,” the man who had opened the door greeted with a loud British accent.

  Parks nodded but didn’t say a word, and he stepped in to look things over. It was a large restaurant, a perfect place for a terrorist attack, and everyone was either dressed in tuxedos or gowns.

  “Can I help you, sir?” an English-accented hostess wondered.

  Parks shrugged his shoulders. “Yes ma’am I guess so,” he said, wondering what was with all of the accents. “Do you guys have a carry-out menu?”

  The lady scrutinized him from head to toe before chuckling to herself in disgust and handing him the menu.

  “Well I’m glad I’m amusing, ma’am,” Parks spat out. “But my money spends as good as any of these dudes’.”

  It felt good to take out his anger on someone, even though he knew this lady hadn’t anything to do with his troubles. But her accent was irritating, her scrutiny was annoying, and she was the only one around at the time for Parks to lash out at.

  Parks turned for the door and bumped into someone. When his eyes cast down to the man’s face, he almost dropped dead with recognition and fear. Standing before him was Alka vun Buvka.

  * * *

  “Oh, excuse me, sir,” Parks declared, trying to act as calm as he could.

  Vun Buvka patted Parks’ arm and smiled. “Forget it, my friend.”

  Parks suddenly remembered his pistol. Should he try and take all of the terrorists by himself? He didn’t think he could. If he tried and failed, then his team’s surprise tactic would be lost.

  “Uh, sir, they don’t take too kindly to casual clothes in here I’m afraid,” Parks stated, pointing to the terrorist’s garments. “But hey, if you’ve got money what can they say?”

  The other terrorists surrounded Parks and stared at him intently. He could feel their eyes scanning him, and it made his stomach knot. Were they on to him? Did they know who he was and were they going to kill him right then and there?

  “Have you ever eaten here?” a terrorist questioned from behind Parks.

  “Nope, never. I’m going to though; I just have to go back to my vehicle. I forgot my wallet.”

  The restaurant’s doors opened once more and Parks saw Samuels enter. Parks wasn’t sure if he had come in to help or if he had something else up his sleeve. There was no way of telling.

  “Have a good meal, gentlemen,” Parks said.

  The terrorists began to walk for the counter and Parks knew he had to make a decision. He realized that they could blow up everyone in the building in a heartbeat whenever they wanted to, and he needed to stop them. But if he tried now, at best he and Samuels could only kill a few of them before one of them ignited their C4. The catch was, he wasn’t sure if he had time to get backup before the terrorists commenced the attack.

  Parks glanced at Samuels who was slightly shaking his head. Then he pointed back to the door. Parks knew Samuels wanted him to leave, but why? Did he have a plan?

  Hoping for the best, Parks started for the door. He reached Samuels and once outside, both men made a dash for the vehicles. When they reached them, they leaped inside and Parks and Solomon parked them around the corner.

  “The terrorists are inside and we need to take them out before they attack,” Parks told Solomon as everyone began piling out of the vehicles. “They saw me and they might know who I am from the gas station incident. But I can’t afford not to go back inside.”

  “Why?” Solomon asked.

  “Two reasons. One, I need to lead this team. Two, I told them I was coming back.”

  “You what?”

  “Forget it. Anyway, I don’t have a clue as to how much time we have, but we sure can’t just storm that place with guns blazing. They’d blow their C4 instantly. We need to infiltrate the building and close in on them inconspicuously.”

  “Yeah but that isn’t going to be very easy,” Samuels pointed out. “The only way into that building is through those front doors. Like you said, we sure can’t come charging in there all at the same time or the terrorists will be suspicious.”

  “You’re right about their suspicions. You’re wrong that the front doors are the only way in though,” Parks countered quickly. “There have to be fire exits and employee entrances. Who wants to be a waiter?”

  “I’ll do it,” Solomon offered without hesitation.

  “Thanks. You’ll need to speak with the manager and flash a badge in order to get the job. Once inside I want you to take the terrorists’ order.”

  “You think they’re really going to sit down and eat?” Lee asked. “If I were them I’d just blow the C4 and be done with it.”

  “Well I’d say the same thing if they were normal suiciders. But they’re not. Vun Buvka’s with them and he doesn’t want to die.”

  “Then what’s he planning?” Norse questioned.

  “I’m not sure but it doesn’t really matter,” Parks replied. “By the way, another reason why I’m guessing they’re going to stay a while is that there aren’t that many people in the restaurant yet.”

  “Solomon,” Parks began, “you’ll have to work alone, but we won’t start anything – if we can help it of course – until you’re around. Oh, I also need someone to be a cleanup man.”

  “Right here,” Norse offered. “My wife taught me how to use a broom and vacuum pretty well.”

  “Fine. You’ll need t
o stick close to the terrorists’ table while you’re cleaning, okay? But make it look as natural as you can. Now I also need someone to hang around the main entrance just in case.”

  Marler cleared his throat. “I’ll take that job, KP.”

  “Good. Now I need the rest of you to go in there and have a nice meal by the terrorists’ table. Don’t even look at them until I give the word. Got that?”

  “Where’ll you be?” Norse asked.

  Parks double-checked his pistol and then spun it on his finger. “I’ll be dining right next to the terrorists – alone. When you guys see me make a move, then open fire. I’d like vun Buvka alive but kill him if necessary.”

  “What qualifies as necessary?” Solomon wondered.

  “If he’s going to harm any of the civilians inside, or if he’s going to escape. Then and only then can we take him out. I hate to order that, but...”

  “We understand,” Norse assured him.

  “All right then let’s get moving before it’s too late,” Parks ordered. “And remember hunter safety, ‘Be sure of your target and beyond.’”

  * * *

  “May I take your order?”

  Vun Buvka looked up from his menu and stared at the tall, jolly, black man in a white shirt and black tie. Then he scanned the room and suddenly noticed the man sitting alone behind him. His face was familiar, but why? Where had he seen that man?

  Vun Buvka’s terrorists began to order and out of nowhere there came another neatly dressed man pushing a cordless vacuum. He was less familiar but still somewhat recognizable. Where had vun Buvka seen these two men? Of course he’d seen the tall one sitting behind him recently. They had collided earlier, but that was not what was familiar about him. Something else was. But what?

  “And yours, sir?” the waiter asked vun Buvka, tapping his pen on the man’s shoulder.

  “I’ll take what he got,” vun Buvka told him, nudging the terrorist on his left. He hadn’t come here to eat, he had come here on business, and he still had a job to do.

  “All right then gentlemen, that’ll be out in a few minutes,” the waiter stated.

  Vun Buvka approved and then looked around the restaurant. There was beginning to be quite a few people around, but only one was on his mind now: the one behind him.

  * * *

  Parks saw Solomon come out of the kitchen area with two large platters balanced on his hands. He’s having way too much fun, Parks thought.

  “Here we are, gentlemen,” Solomon said as he placed the platters on a nearby table. “Let’s see...Oh, Bob, could you come here?”

  “Bob,” known to Solomon as Norse, came over and helped Solomon distribute the food. Parks wondered how Norse knew Solomon was calling for him, but then he saw the nametag on Norse’s apron. It said, “Bob.”

  “Enjoy your meal,” Solomon added, giving a wide smile.

  Parks stirred the Dr. Pepper that he had ordered and tore up the paper straw packaging that had been lying on the table. He was not going to drink any of it because he didn’t know who poured the drink and from where the straw had come. Then Solomon walked up to him, notebook in hand.

  “May I take your order?” the CIA agent/temporary waiter asked.

  Parks shot a quick look at the terrorists. They were busy eating with their eyes cast at their food. Parks handed a piece of paper to Solomon. “Here’s my order,” he informed him, intending the pun. Solomon had purposely delayed taking his order for that exact reason.

  Without a further word, the waiter left the table and went into the kitchen.

  Parks watched the terrorists eat their food with Solomon’s “special ingredient” thrown in for good measure. He knew it would be an interesting meal for the terrorists – their last.

  * * *

  Ghazi Siraj felt his stomach contract and then expand and then repeat the process. What was happening? Was there something wrong with the food?

  His face broke into a sweat but he wasn’t hot, he was cold. Then sweat began to pour from his back and neck. There was something wrong, but what? Was it just nerves from what he knew he had to do? Siraj was nervous but he was certain that wasn’t the cause of this sudden reaction.

  During the long trip to Virginia, he had felt like he had the guts to pull off this operation. Maybe it was because he had found out that vun Buvka was scared too, or possibly because he was just getting fed up with life. For whatever reason though, Siraj had been confident in himself. But suddenly things were different. He was sure he couldn’t accomplish this mission. As soon as he and the other terrorists had come into the restaurant a sense of fear had overtaken him. He had almost turned and run but miraculously he hadn’t.

  He had managed to stay with vun Buvka for this long but he couldn’t take it any longer. He could feel the C4 strapped around his waist, under his shirt, and he knew the ignition switch was sitting in the pocket of his pants. It made him petrified just to think that what was strapped to him would be what would take his life in just a few minutes.

  Maybe it won’t, Siraj thought to himself. Perhaps I’ll die from fear or be killed if I try to escape. Then again, I might be able to make an escape and still live.

  Siraj was beginning to shake now and he could feel his tongue swelling in his mouth. He turned to the terrorist on his right and saw that he was in the same condition. Siraj’s eyes scanned every man at the table and saw that they all were sweating and shaking. All of them that is, except vun Buvka, who had not taken a bite out of his meal.

  Then Siraj knew he had been poisoned.

  * * *

  Vun Buvka looked around the restaurant once again. There were almost twice as many people inside now than there were when he’d first come. That was one of the reasons why he had decided to stay and have a meal, so the building could fill up. The other reason was to give his boss time to call him and give the signal.

  He looked to Siraj and then noticed how every one of his fellow terrorists looked ill. “What’s wrong?” vun Buvka asked the man on his left.

  “I don’t know,” the terrorist replied in a hoarse voice.

  Vun Buvka wasn’t sure what to do. He hadn’t received the go signal from his boss yet but how long should he wait? He’d tried to call him several times along the trip but no one had answered. Should he continue with the attack anyway? What would that mean for him when he tried to escape? Would he then be able to contact his boss so he could get to safety? Even considering that, he knew if the attack was going to be made here, now was the time.

  Vun Buvka swallowed hard before continuing in a whisper. “All right, for the glory of Allah, carry out the operation.”

  Then vun Buvka slid out of his seat and headed for the door, reaching for his pistol.

  * * *

  Parks saw Solomon come out of the kitchen, juggling a few bundles of silverware. Then Parks caught movement out of the corner of his eye. The terrorists were on the move. Vun Buvka was heading for the door followed by another terrorist, about a half dozen others were taking up positions all around the restaurant, and one was still sitting at the table.

  Parks knew if he was going to move it had to be now. He figured that the attack wouldn’t start until vun Buvka was safely out of the restaurant, but that meant he had only a few seconds. Of course Marler was guarding the door so Parks wasn’t concerned about losing vun Buvka, but he was wondering if his team could kill the suicide bombers before they attacked.

  At what seemed to be the speed of light, Parks drew his pistol and leaped up. He took aim at the terrorist still at the table and fired off a round. Without waiting to see if he had killed the terrorist he yelled, “Go, go, go!”

  People started to scream and run for cover.

  Parks briefly saw Solomon throw down the silverware, pull out his sidearm and fire three rounds at the terrorists standing near the northwest corner. Then he dove down to the ground and searched for another target.

  Next to Parks, Norse overturned a table so he could have some sort of protection, a
nd he also opened fire. Parks saw a terrorist drop as a result of Norse’s Smith and Wesson’s precise shooting, and then quickly the agent squeezed off a follow-up shot just to be sure.

  The remaining terrorists scrambled for cover and returned the fire. Parks saw one of them in a corner that had been evacuated flick the switch for his C4 to explode.

  And so it did.

  45

  Wednesday, March 26th – 1915 hours

  Centreville, Virginia

  The massive explosion tore a wide hole in the southwest corner of the restaurant. It sent glass, wood, and other rubbish flying through the air. Surprisingly though, the rest of the building did not collapse. The explosion had merely knocked a large hole in the wall.

  Without missing a beat, Parks stood up from where he had been blown down, fanned off three shots toward a terrorist in the northeast corner, pivoted right, and fanned two more rounds toward the man next to the entrance.

  Smoke began filling the restaurant, people were screaming in fear as bullets streaked in all directions. Then suddenly Parks dashed for the door, hoping vun Buvka was there. He hadn’t seen any sign of Marler and was beginning to wonder if the terrorist had escaped.

  Parks burst through the doors and tried to find the terrorist. Then he saw vun Buvka directly ahead, sprinting for his vehicle.

  “Stop!” Parks shouted to him. “Stop or I’ll kill you!”

  Vun Buvka wheeled around and fired four shots toward his enemy. From nowhere a man leaped on Parks from behind, protecting him from the bullets. Both men pounded on the ground. Then the man rolled off of Parks and began firing at the fleeing terrorist. That’s when Parks recognized that it was Marler.

  Solomon also burst outside, gun blazing. He too jumped down, trying to shield himself from the terrorist’s bullets.

  Vun Buvka was doing a good job of hiding though. He had dozens of vehicles with which to guard himself, and he was taking advantage of the cover. He was slowly working his way to the Suburban, and he didn’t want to think about what he would need to do from there.