by Rob Buckman
"That will only get someone killed. What time do the guards change?" He asked.
"So far they’ve been changing them every hour and there is still thirty minutes to go before the next change." The Captain answered. "Why?"
"Have your men ready to go. I'm going to back off about a quarter of a mile down wind and take out those two on the roof. From that distance no one will hear a sound."
"Are you crazy? No one can make a shot like that, not in the dark!"
"I can,” and with that, he was gone.
"Wait..." He said in an urgent whisper.
"Let him go Captain."
"He's crazy. No one can make a shot like that!"
"If he says he can make the shot, believe it, he can." The Captain shook his head.
"You know him from before?"
"You could say that."
"He's good then?"
"Wait and see." He didn't have a choice. The man was gone, and all he could do is sit and wait. But a quarter of a mile! In the dark! Impossible. With a resigned shrug he keyed the microphone, updating his men.
Mike carried his rifle at the trail, making good time even in the dark. It wasn't really dark, not like at the bottom of a coal mine at midnight. In fact, the desert kind of glows at night with the moonlight and it's only the detail that gets lost, not the overall picture. In the distance, Mike saw a pile of rocks and headed that way. It would make a perfect stand for what he had to do. The last hundred yards he walked, bring his breathing back to normal before climbing to find a perch. He found what he was looking for, a waist high rock, flat on top with sand packed behind it. Scooping out sand, he made a comfortable shooting stand and settled in. First, picking up a small handful of sand, he threw it into the air, watching the lighter stuff move away from him and the house. He still had the light wind in his direction, so jacking a round into the chamber and flicking the safety on, he settled down to find the sight picture. The image intensifying sniper scope turned the desert an eerie green color, but it was enough to see his target. Adjusting the scope, he zoomed in, then backed off when he found he was too close. At first, there was only shadow, then degrees of shadow as he became familiar with the picture. Then he had the first man pinpointed, sitting with his back to the chimney.
"Shouldn't wear a white shirt on night duty Charley Brown. Now where is number two?" He muttered. "Oh. There you are. Taking a little smoke break are we. Another no, no." Mike checked the time, finding he had ten minutes to go. He slowly brought the sight picture back to the first man and steadied his aim, running down the check list in his mind. 'Round in the breech? Check. Safety off? Check. Sight set for distance? Check. Windage? Check. Better make a small correction for that. Check. Sight picture good? Check.'
Taking a deep breath, he let half of it out, counting down the seconds, five, four, three, two, one. He waited that last split second more until it felt right and gently squeezed the round off. The rifle butt jumped back into his shoulder, the shot making one hell of a bang as it did. Quickly, he brought the sight picture back, just in time to see the man slump sideways. He had no way of knowing where he’d hit him, or if he was dead. But wherever it was, he was out of the picture for the moment. Drifting the picture sideways, he searched for the second man in the last position he'd seen him. He wasn't there.
"Now where the hell did you wander off to?" Slowly, he scanned the roof from one end to the other, finding nothing. "Of all the inconsiderate bastards. I go to all this trouble and you go wandering off." He muttered. "Now where did you go, you little cock sucker." Light suddenly flooded the sight picture as a trap door in the roof popped open. Mike adjusted the picture, just in time to see a head come in to view, then a hand reach up and deposit two dark objects on the roof. Mike was betting they were bottles of beer. The head ducked back and Mike surmised the man had gone back down the ladder, or stair to get his weapons.
"Drinking on the job are we! That's a no, no." He ran through his mind the course of action the man would take as he came back up, shifting his sights according to his conclusions and waited. He was right. The man came back up and placed a weapon of some sort next to the bottles, then climbing out, kneeling to close the trap door. As the door dropped into place, he squeezed off the shot, the sound of the trap door closing covering the sound of this shot if it carried that far. The rifle bucked upward slightly so he lost the sight picture. Steadying the weapon, he pulled down on the same area, seeing a crumpled heap.
Never one to take chances he waited for another ten minutes, switching back and forth between the two men, making sure they were both dead or in no condition to raise the alarm. He doubted it since even a partial hit from a 7.62 mm round could take an arm, or leg off. The shock alone would put the person out. Neither moved as he counted down the last few seconds in his mind. The moment he reached zero he was up and running, rifle held at high port, safety on, just encase he tripped. For the last hundred yards, he bent over, running as softly as he could, rifle held at the trail. Slowing to a walk, he moved into concealment, surprised to find Pete and the Captain still in position.
"What's happening?" he asked in a whisper.
"Nothing yet. The guard change is late." Pete whispered back.
"Sorry you didn't have any luck out there, we'll have to try and take the guards out and hope for the rest."
"The two on the roof are dead." Mike said, seeing the Captain's head snap round.
"The hell you say! I didn't hear any shots. Are you sure or just bullshitting me?"
"He's sure." Pete said, grinning from ear to ear. The Captain looked from one to the other. Not willing to believe either of them.
"I find that very hard to swallow. You'd have to be a quarter to half a mile away for us not to hear anything. And in the dark at that distance?! You've got to be shitting me." Mike just shrugged.
"If he's said they are dead, you can take it to the bank." Pete said offhandedly, pointedly ignoring the man, watching the house. "Heads up! Here comes the guard change." He whispered.
"Shit!" The Captain said, keying his headset. Knowing he'd have to take their word for it. It was too late to change plans now.
"The word is the two targets on the roof are cold. The operation is go. I say again. The operation is go."
Unsuspectingly the guards changed places and as they did, the ground came alive with dark bodies’ intent on legal mayhem. It took less than thirty seconds to neutralize all the guards. Besides a few startled grunts, nothing was heard. The guards were stripped of weapons and herded into a group under the watchful eye of the team, each handcuffed with large plastic snap ties. The moment the special operations team moved, Mike was up and running. Two hundred pounds of angry human being hit the reinforced door like a battering ram, smashing it off its hinges. As it collapsed to the floor, Mike rolled over it, coming to his feet and nailing two men that had just stepped out of a side room. Both men reached for weapons under their arms but it was too little, and way too late. Both men slammed back against the wall, leaving bloody streaks as they slid to the floor. Mike’s momentum carried him forward down the short hallway and into a living room, leaving any other heroes for the team pouring into the building around him.
Three girls sat in easy chairs in different parts of the room. Another cuddled up to a man on the couch as they watch a porno movie on the giant television. The sound of the front door smashing inward galvanized the man into action. He tried unsuccessfully to disentangle himself from the girl, the couch, pull his pants up and get his gun out at the same time. As he stood, he reached for a pistol on the table. His hand closing round the weapon as Mike butt stroked him back into the arms of his girlfriend, unconscious. The rest of the team poured in, covering the area, but by this time everyone else was frozen in surprise. As Pete and the other two FBI men came into the room, a door off to one side opened and out stepped the fattest woman Mike had ever seen.
"What in God's name is going on here?" She demanded looking around at the armed men, one hand to her mouth, the other in her
dress pocket.
"My name is agent Rogers, FBI, and you are all under arrest on suspicion of kidnapping,” he stated, doing it by the book.
"Kidnapping! Are you crazy?" She said. "Let me call my lawyer and get him out here, he'll sort this mess out." The woman waddled towards a small desk and a telephone at the other end of the room. Mike's rifle came up, covering her.
"Freeze lady!" He snapped.
"I only want to call my lawyer. There's no harm in that is there?" She said, still moving towards the phone.
"You move and I'll blow you in two!" The woman looked first at Pete Rogers, then at Mike, seeing something she didn't like. There was something about the big man that said he'd do just that, so she halted, waving her hand vaguely in the direction of the desk and phone.
"I don't understand. There's no one here who's been kidnapped. I run a respectable, and legal whorehouse here."
"In a pig’s eye."
"Mike! She's right. It’s legal under Nevada law.
"Kidnapping is not! Where is she?" He demanded.
"Where’s who?" She asked. Mike started to move towards her, prepared to rip her heart out to get the right answers, but Pete saw the move coming.
"Back off Mike. I'll handle this."
"You!" The fat lady said. "Look pencil dick. I've not seen a warrant or anything, so I'm going to call my lawyer and let him settle with you." Pete did have a warrant, but it was for search and seizure, not arrest. Unless they found something. One by one, the team checked in, reporting a negative finding. Pete gave Mike a helpless look but tried anyway.
"Look lady. Make it easy on yourself. Just tell us where the girl is okay."
"Fuck you dickhead." She said and spat in his face. "I told you before. There is no one kidnapped around here! Now get the hell off my property!" Pete wiped it off with his sleeve, cocking his arm to back hand her across the mouth for her trouble but Mike saw it coming and gently pushed him aside.
"Let me try Pete. I think I understand her language better than you do."
"Go ahead and try big boy!" she sneered. "I've seen your sort before. You military cocksuckers are as dick-less as the FBI is." She snorted.
"For one lady, I'm not in the military or the FBI. Second I'm not your boy." Mike lowered his rifle, shifting it to his left hand and unzipping his jacket. Reaching inside he pulled out twelve inches of razor sharp steel. He showed it to her, then slowly lowered it and pressed the point into her ample midsection. "The first problem you have to understand Pete,” he said in a conversational tone, giving Pete a quick look, "is that like donkeys and other stupid animals, before you can talk to them, you first have to get their attention."
"Go ahead you dick-less wonder, I'm not scared of you or the fucking knife. I've been stabbed before,” she spat. With that remark still hanging in the air, Mike shoved the first two inches of the blade into her stomach. She gave a little scream. Her face contorted with pain.
"What the hell Pete! You can't stand by and let this guy do that." One of the other FBI men started forward.
"Keep that fucking cherry away from me Pete or I'll kill him." Mike snarled.
"Mainz! Back off."
"Fuck you Rogers. I'm not about to stand by and see this woman's civil rights violated!"
"For Christ sake Pete, get this cherry the fuck out of here and wipe his nose for him. He looks as if he's about to cry." Mike snapped.
"You son of a bitch..." Mainz said reaching for his weapon.
"Mainz, I told you to back off. Now I'm giving you an order!"
"Like hell!" Pete reached over and grabbed his gun hand, ripping the weapon out of his grasp. He then grabbed his arm, dragging him outside.
"Are you just plane crazy or do you have a death wish?"
"Neither. But I can't stand there and just watch the crazy cocksucker stab that poor woman."
"That 'crazy cocksucker' would have killed you if you had interfered."
"Not before I'd have blown his head off." Mainz snapped back.
"He would have killed you where you stood if he thought you were serious."
"And you would have let him?"
"May be, maybe not. I don't know." Mainz looked at Pete in astonishment.
"You're as crazy as he is." Pete shook his head.
"No I'm not, I just understand where he's coming from."
"I don't, I think he's an asshole and ready for a padded cell in the psycho ward." Pete shook his head. Trying to think of a way to explain it to him.
"That man in there is the toughest son of a bitch I have ever known. On more than one occasion, he has saved my life. Not to mention he put his ass on the line for me and risked getting blown away for it. So don't go judging him by what you see."
"Christ! Then how am I supposed to judge him. Is there any limit on how far you are willing to let him go?"
"At the moment. No!"
"My God!" was all he could say.
"Understand this. We are not here just to bust this place, but to help him find a kidnapped girl, his girl friend. In the last few days, they have been chased over and under a fucking mountain by a bunch of hired killers. He's been shot at, blown up, beaten up and seen the women he loved stripped and beaten with a whip right in front of his eyes, unable to do a damn thing about it. How he has managed to control himself this far is beyond me. I would have gone crazy and probably got myself killed by now. His girl friend is either in that house, I hope, or has already been shipped off to God knows where." It was a long speech for Pete but he got it out. Mainz stood there, saying nothing. "You want to judge him, you go ahead. First go and have a smoke and cool off."
"And in the mean time he slices up that woman."
"Maybe, but I have an idea he might be running a gigantic bluff. I don't know but I hope to hell it works, because it's all we have." Mainz thought it over, kicking dirt with the toe of his boot. At last, he looked up.
"You got a cigarette you can lend me, I've run out." Pete handed him the packet and walked away. It was only when he reached the front door that he remembered that Mainz didn't smoke. He chuckled. The moment Pete and the other agent left the room Mike turned his attention back to the woman.
"Now that we've got rid of the interruption we can get back to business,” he said in a soft voice.
The fat women looked desperately round the room, seeking help. She found the Special Forces Captain in deep conversation with two of his team and the last FBI agent, finding no help there. The rest of the team were looking elsewhere, intent on other duties. She looked back at Mike, seeing only death in his face.
"Honest Mister, I don't know anything. Let me call my lawyer, he can straighten all this out."
"Forget about your lawyer, you have other problems to worry about."
"Like what?" She stammered.
"Like whether or not you'd like to see your guts spilling out onto the floor."
"God damn you! I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING!" She screamed.
"I think you do. I want to know if any girls have been brought here in the last three days and, if so, where they are now."
"You cocksucker! I don't know what you’re talking about. The only girls here are here because they want to be. This is where the money is." Mike knew this was getting him nowhere. She was scared of something greater than what he could do to her. Knowing Roland Hawkins, he could imagine what. He had to try something else.
"Did any of you guys see any rats out there tonight?" He asked the room at large.
"Sure did." One of the team sang out. "Thought they were cats at first by the size. Then one of the suckers tried to take a bite out of me."
"Thank you." Mike turned his attention back to the woman. "I have a friend, who's a full blooded Apache. He told me a sure fire way of getting stubborn people to talk. Would you like to hear how?" He asked in a gentle voice.
"No. No, I wouldn't." She stammered, quaking like a giant bowl of jelly.
"No matter, I'll tell you any way. You first strip the victim, that's you, and tie t
hem with their backs to a cactus. You then make a small cut in the stomach, which I've done, then reach in with a finger and pull the intestines out. From the look of you, that could take a while. You then stretch them out as far as they will go, in your case that would be a long way and nail the end to a tree." A visible shudder ran through the woman's body, but it still wasn't enough. "You then sit back and wait. Now, the first part of the operation isn't so bad, it's the second part that gets really interesting. All you have to do is wait for the rats to show up for a free meal. In these parts that shouldn't be long. They then start eating the soft tissue, coming closer and closer to the end. When they reach it they go looking for more, usually climbing in through the hole, and chowing down on all that lovely raw meat inside."
"I don't know anything!" By now, she was sobbing, tears running down her face, but Mike wasn't moved at all by the display.
"Time to go outside,” he said. "Any one got any rope?"
"All right I'll tell you!" she screamed. "Only one girl arrived in the last three days. She's downstairs in the basement."
"Basement! Damn it, there is no basement." The Captain said.
"Yes there is."
"How do we get down to it?" Mike asked.
"I'll show you if you want." Mike pushed a little harder, bring a gasp of pain.
"I said just tell us, we'll find it." There was something in the woman's eyes that he didn't like, something about the telephone, or the desk.
"I can't, I'll have to show you."
"Like hell you will. Someone check the desk out. Careful, it could be booby trapped,” he added. Holding her in place, he waited while they checked it out.
"Nothing here Captain. Just the desk and telephone and one of those credit card readers."
"No extra wires? Nothing out of the ordinary?"
"No Sir. I'm the demo expert and I checked it twice."
"So tell me fat lady. How do we find the entrance to the cellar or would you like to go outside and play with the rats?"
"You bastard! Here." She carefully reached into the pocket of her dress and pulled out an electronic card key, holding it up. "Run this through the card reader on the desk, it'll open the cellar door."
