by D B Steward
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
Reggie Burns had struggled to convince his bosses in D.C. that it was imperative to get inside Pierpont’s compound. The national crackdown on MH4 was successful, even better than had been estimated. It seemed that MH4 wasn’t as sophisticated as they thought. The FBI sweeps had decimated their ranks. The rest were running scared as they tried to get back into Mexico.
Reggie had applied pressure, he had whined, finally he had begged the Director to let him go in. He convinced the Director that Pierpont and his militia were poised to strike. He stressed that it would be disastrous to allow that to happen. The Director finally gave the go ahead. Idaho had not yielded any members of MH4. The state was too far from Mexico and too caucasian for MH4 members to blend in. Reggie was now authorized for all the resources in Idaho that he wanted.
A caravan of black SUVs and SWAT vehicles sped down country roads. Their lights blazing en route to the compound. Reggie was driving the lead vehicle with Ken sitting beside him.
“We breach the gate and neutralize their sentries before they can sound the alarm.” Reggie was going over the plan aloud even though Ken had heard it many times already from the briefing this morning.
“Roger that.” Ken replied as he watched the dense treescape speed by. He had been quiet since the morning briefing. Reggie figured that he had a case of nerves before the raid. It was a little puzzling to Reggie that Ken would feel anxious. After all, Ken had served overseas and had seen combat. But Reggie knew that everyone dealt with pressure differently. Maybe this was how Ken psyched himself up.
The caravan rounded a bend on the dirt trail. The front gate of the compound appeared about 500 feet in front of them. “Here we go.” Reggie said as his foot pushed the accelerator to the floor. The trees were so dense around them that even though the morning sun had risen, the darkness hadn’t been completely vanquished.
There was a flash of light in his peripheral vision. Then gunfire exploded from all around them. The sounds of the rapid cracks of the bullets filled Reggie’s whole world. Metal slammed against metal as the slugs hit the SUVs.
“Shots fired! Shots fired!” Reggie yelled over his com. “Get to the gate! Keep going!” The gate was racing towards him. He had to get them out of the shooting gallery that the caravan had been caught in. The gate was made of aluminum bars closed by a chain. It would have been too much to ask that it be a rusty chain link fence. His grill tore into the gate and he barreled through. The vehicle felt sluggish and he saw his truck had hooked half of the gate and tore it loose. The bars were now dragging alongside the bullet riddled truck. The scraping noise joined the cacophony around him.
“There’s a clearing over by the main building where their cars are parked! Head there!” Ken exclaimed and Reggie nodded at his suggestion.
“All units rally at the parking lot!” He ordered over the com. He could see rows of pickups and jeeps in front of him along with what appeared to be a decommissioned APC. “This is SAC Burns! I need that air support now!” The chopper would be there in about five minutes, a lifetime.
The SUVs were clustered together by the other vehicles. The gunfire had stopped for the moment. They had outrun the shooters in the woods but he knew they were now racing back to the compound. Reggie had to get everyone out of the cars and to some kind of cover and fast. He and Ken jumped out and drew their weapons. The windshield shattered next to him and Reggie hit the dirt.
“Where’s the shooter?” Reggie yelled while chaos exploded around him. His voice joined a disjointed choir of officers and agents. He scrambled to a sitting position with his back to the SUV. He scanned for Ken and found him crawling towards him. “You see him?”
“There’s more than one!” Ken pulled himself next to Reggie, sitting side by side. “One, possibly two on the roof of the structure to our east. There might be another past the treeline to the north.”
“We have to move now! When the rest of them get here we are going to be sitting ducks!” Reggie scanned the area, his thoughts racing. “We need to get inside the main building!” Ken’s face twisted into a grimace.
“That’s about fifty yards away with no cover!” Ken explained, raising his voice to a yell to make himself heard. “We won’t make it!”
“Not on foot.” Reggie opened the driver’s door to the SUV. “Once inside they are going to need to split their firepower. That’ll alleviate the pressure out here so we can get our reinforcements in here. Get in Ken!”
Ken paused for a moment but pulled himself up into the backseat. Reggie crawled behind the wheel and revved the engine to make sure it was still driveable. He kept his head low and peered through the bullet riddled windshield. He could see the front entrance to the main building. The path was clear and he gripped the wheel tightly.
“Hang on!” He gunned the accelerator and the SUV exploded forward like a missle. It took a moment for the militia men to understand what was happening but soon the ground all around the moving truck was being spattered with gunfire. The door was getting closer and Reggie yanked his seatbelt on. “Strap in Ken!”
Reggie aimed the car toward a closed garage door. The car tore through the door. Metal on metal screamed in protest at their violent meeting. Reggie thanked blind luck that there wasn’t a car parked on the other side of the door. He slammed the brakes and the van squealed to a stop right before it punched through the back wall.
“You okay?” He turned to Ken who nodded in return. “Let’s go!” He bolted out of the car with his weapon drawn and cleared the garage. Reggie assumed that they only had seconds until they would have company. They needed to get out of there fast. “There’s the door.” They made a beeline with Reggie in the lead. He opened the door a crack and peered out. The hallway was empty and the two of them rushed through.
Reggie could still hear gunfire from outside. But now there was a low thumping that seemed to be growing louder and getting closer. The helicopter.
“Cavalry’s on the way. Come on. Let’s get out of this hallway.” He led the way forward and hoped that they were heading toward Pierpont. The compound had been built on the property without permits. There were no blueprints for the bureau to review before the assault. Drones had given them a look at the outside, but they were working blind on the inside.
The hall opened to a large room that appeared to be for storage. Metal crates were placed orderly atop one another in rows before them. They were all dark green and Reggie’s stomach dropped. The containers belonged to the US military, and there were dozens of them. He opened one of the crates and found it empty inside.
“Ken, look at this.” Reggie opened another, also empty. “They’re not here. He already got the weapons out.” Puzzled, he turned to face Ken. “Why would he leave the crates though?”
“Put your guns down!” The booming command came from his left. Reggie swiveled to level his gun at the militiaman. He was tall and lanky with stringy brown hair that hung to his shoulders. His assault rifle was pointed directly at Reggie’s chest.
“FBI! Get your hands up and drop your weapon!” Reggie commanded. The man was sweating and his eyes shifted nervously. Reggie was about to shout another command when he felt a blow. It felt like someone had just swung a baseball bat and hit him in the kidney. The pain buckled his knees and he felt wetness spreading on his skin. “Ken, what’s…” His breath was leaving him and the pain was driving him to the ground. His vision was getting dimmer around the edges but he could see Ken moving around in front of him. “Ken?” He whispered, his voice was fading as the world got darker. “What are you…?” Finally he slipped into oblivion.
The militiaman was in shock, “Are you the fed on the inside that General Pierpont was talking about?” He lowered his rifle to the floor.
“Yes.” Ken raised his gun and shot the man in the forehead. He dropped to his knees, dead before his face hit the floor; by then Ken was already moving. Having memorized the layout, he headed down the hall to his destination. But after a few s
teps he turned and looked back at Reggie’s unmoving body lying on the floor.
“I’m sorry Reggie.” He shook his head in regret. “I really liked you and I hate that I had to do that. But orders are orders. See you on the other side.” In a moment he disappeared behind a door while the shouts and gunfire continued outside.
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
England stared at his computer screen. The nightmare he had feared for so long had finally begun. The madman had done it. This was not something that could be covered up. In a few hours the entire world would know the name Noah T. Pierpont. And England knew that that was what Noah wanted all along.
Ruby Ridge. Oklahoma City. This was going to be as big, if not bigger than all of them. The lunatic had now set in motion a tragedy that would send shockwaves throughout the country for years to come.
If the connection between the two of them were uncovered because of this he would be ruined. Heads would roll. He might even be facing prison time. It had been a fantasy to think that something like this would never happen. He had always known the kind of person Noah was. He was a megalomaniac of the worst kind. He was a ticking time bomb. And when the bomb exploded he would be responsible for the fallout.
It had been a mistake. A colossal mistake, as it turned out. But from the moment he had met Noah, there had been an electricity between them. Noah’s strong personality has captivated England. He knew it was wrong. There were explicit rules against fraternizing with subordinates. But he had ignored every one of them.
Their brief affair was explosive. The secretive nature of it was too enticing for them to resist. It was a whirlwind that swept them both away with a force that neither could withstand. It happened so fast that England didn’t have time to think about how dangerous it could be to his career.
Being gay in the military was no longer forbidden. But there would never be a pride parade at West Point. The military was still pro hetero. If he had been an enlisted man his orientation wouldn’t have mattered as much. But Timothy England wanted to be a general. And there was no way that there would be a gay general in his lifetime. It would be career suicide for him to come out. He had decided long ago that his military career was more important than anything in his life. He had to end the relationship.
Noah had not taken the news well. He had exploded at England. Noah called him a coward, and maybe he was. But England didn’t want to be a trailblazer. He wanted to be a general. Noah kept his secret.
But the anger that Pierpont was holding in soon began to spill out. He started to drive his men hard. His actions in the field became erratic. He had begun to speak openly about his future aspirations. He began to share his hidden desires of military glory and fame. Rumors spread about him being mentally imbalanced. Then the incident happened and England’s hand was finally forced.
He had to do something about Pierpont’s actions. And for the second time, he made an enormous error. Pierpont threatened to reveal their affair. If his career was over, he was going to make sure that England’s was as well.
He caved. He had no other choice. Pierpont had to go free. England could think of no solution to his dilemma. So he sought advice from his mentor. Retired General Mark Bell was a close friend. He had been an instructor at West Point and took England under his wing. They kept in touch after graduation and Bell provided him with advice whenever he asked.
At the time, Bell was retired but still had a lot of influence in the military. England had already told Bell about Pierpont’s skill and potential. Bell saw it as a waste of a fine officer to have Pierpont spend the rest of his life in a jail cell. But he had a solution.
General Mark Bell was well connected in the upper echelon of the military. He had the ear of some of the most important men in the Pentagon. And more importantly, had access to their secrets. Bell was acquainted with a group of senior officials who had discussed finding new ways to deal with threats to the United States and its citizens. They believed that a top secret ‘hit squad’ was the most effective way to protect the country. Operating a force without the encumbrance of oversight and political interference was too good to pass up. Bell made the call.
On paper, Pierpont was court martialed and sentenced to forty years in federal prison. But he was never taken into custody. He was flown out of Iraq in secret. England briefed him on his new role.
Noah Pierpont would assemble a team and be the field leader. He would report to England, who in turn would receive his orders from the small group of people that had developed the idea.
But England should have realized that even with freedom and anonymity, Pierpont’s ambition could not be checked. He was like a wild stallion that would not accept his bridle. He would not be controlled and he could be contained. His missions got messy. Finally after a major bloodbath that killed his entire team, the decision was made. Pierpont needed to go away.
But, somehow Pierpont got wind of it and disappeared. A cover story went out that he had escaped from prison. The FBI placed him at the top of the FBI’s most wanted list. He had stayed off the radar until he surfaced at last in Idaho as the leader of a white supremacist militia.
And now England’s mistake had exploded all over the national media. The bill had finally come due, and now the country would pay it.
Hector’s loft was dark and quiet when he opened his door. He hardly spent time there. Usually he was sleeping at the homes of one of the many prostitutes they had in their corral or at Arturo’s place. The only reason he bought the loft was for his image. He had to look the part of the big time gangster, there had to be a place to throw parties for his guys and show off his money. The truth of the matter was that Hector didn’t like being alone. Solitary silence and being alone with his own thoughts made him uncomfortable.
He sat down on his couch and set up a few lines of coke on the table in front of him. The white powder shot up his nose and he rode the rush that raced through him. He closed his eyes and wiped his nose before taking another hit.
It was too quiet. He grabbed a remote of the table and powered on his stereo. The brassy music of the chicano rap blasted from his huge speakers. He took the last line, stood up and started pacing. He needed this, he told himself. He needed to unwind. Everything was going to shit and he deserved some time to chill. He took his phone from his pocket, intending to call a few of his women to come over and party with him. The phone that the red headed woman had given him was also in his pocket. Hector stared at it.
Fuck Arturo and Ramon. The gang was dead, the feds had crippled MH4. But there was still enough left for Hector to start over. He had to move fast though while there was still time. There were guys that would remain loyal to him in Monterrey. If he could get them on board he could still hold on to some of the overseas connections MH4 had established.
He dialed the number.
“Well, well, well. Will you look who’s calling?” Kelly smirked toward Sonny who was coming out of the shower. “Our old friend Hector.”
“Interesting.” Sonny’s tone indicated that she thought the news was anything but. She pulled her sports bar over her head. “Maybe he’s asking you out for a date.” Kelly’s expression showed her confusion from the remark.
“Hector, I was expecting your call.” Kelly adopted her business tone.
“You’re with the CIA or something right?” His voice sounded almost eager to her.
“Or something.”
“Well, I want in.”
“What about your brothers?” Kelly watched Sonny continue to get dressed. It seemed, to her, that Sonny had developed an attitude and Kelly couldn’t understand why.
“Fuck them, I’m calling the shots now.” She could hear the false bravado in his tone. Hector was talking out of his ass.
“So your brothers are no longer in the picture?” She knew the answer but she had to play the role to keep Hector on the hook. She had to stroke his ego for the time being.
“What did I say bitch?” She took a deep breath, she would let the sl
ur slide for now. “I’m the boss of MH4 now. You talk to me from now on.”
“Alright Hector, we should meet to discuss the particulars of our new partnership.”
“Bring half a million dollars to my house tonight and then we can talk.”
My, my, my Kelly thought, someone is feeling their oats. “Very well Hector. Tell us where you are and we will see you later.” After Hector passed on his location she ended the call. “We got him.” She was watching Sonny finish dressing. “Is there a problem?”
Sonny stopped, took a breath, and then turned to face Kelly. “You plan on waltzing into Hector’s place? Are you insane? You don’t think this could be a trap?”
Kelly waved her hand in dismissal. “Hector? If Hector tried to set a trap he would trap himself. He’s as dumb as a reboot of Xanadu starring Kathy Bates.”
“I’m serious Kelly!” Sonny’s irritation was evident by her tone. “You keep playing around with these people. They’re murderers! This isn’t a game!”
