Oath to Defend

by Scott Matthews

  “They left at eleven-thirty. Twenty minutes ago.”

  “That’s exactly when the bomb here exploded,” Drake said. “Which direction were they headed in?”

  “They turned south when they left the ranch.”

  “Follow them, Ricardo. We’ll use Mike’s helicopter and see if we can get ahead of them.”

  Drake waved at Casey, who was jogging toward him. “Double time, partner!” he shouted. “We need to leave!”

  With Casey still fastening his seat belt, Drake explained his plan as he drove as fast as he could between the rows of parked cars in the field that served as the parking lot. “Ricardo says Vazquez’s Muslim groomers left the ranch on their Harleys twenty minutes ago, right when that bomb exploded. One of the Harleys was pulling a trailer big enough to conceal a nuclear demolition munition.”

  He glanced back at the chaos on the polo field. “This was all a diversion, Mike. If Liz can find out what dam they might be targeting, we can use your Relentless and head them off.”

  “They’re going to have quite a head start,” Casey replied. “We’re thirty minutes north of the airport at Sunriver.”

  “Then call Paul,” Drake said. “See if he can get someone in the sheriff’s department to escort us to Sunriver. Following a set of flashing lights will cut the time in half. I’ll call Liz and have her try to locate the dam they’re headed for.”

  While Casey was calling Benning, Drake put his iPhone in its black leather mount on the dash. As soon as Casey hung up, he put them on speaker and called Liz.

  “Liz,” he said as soon as she picked up, “Ricardo says Vazquez’s so-called groomers left the ranch on their Harleys twenty minutes ago. At the same time as the bomb went off. One of the Harleys was pulling a trailer big enough to conceal a demolition nuke, the kind our army developed in the 1960s. The Russians have the same kind of munition. Can you get someone in your shop to locate the dam they’re most likely targeting?”

  “Which way were they headed?” she asked.

  “Ricardo said they turned south. He and Billy will try and catch up with them, but they’ll be way behind.”

  “If the dam is in the mountains that will narrow it down. But why are they going after a dam? I expected them to hit a populated area, not something in the mountains.”

  The answer came to them both at the same time.

  “Oh, my God,” Liz said first. “They’re going to blow a dam and flood everything below it.”

  “Can that happen if they just blow one dam?” Drake asked.

  “If they cause the right dam to fail, yes, it certainly can. The wall of water would hit the dam below it and cause that dam to fail, and the next one, and so on. We’ve done inundation studies that identify the areas that are most vulnerable. That may help us narrow things down.”

  “Call me as soon as you have the dam located,” Drake said. “We’re racing to Sunriver. We’ll head them off in Mike’s helicopter.”

  “And then what? Will you be able to stop them?”

  Before Drake could reply, Casey spoke up. “Liz, this is Mike. I have some weapons on board, we’ll do our best.”

  “All right,” she said. “I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

  Drake drove south on Highway 97 flashing his headlights to clear the road, but most of the drivers didn’t pull off the road like they would for the flashing lights of a police car or ambulance. As they approached the outskirts of Bend, they were averaging only twenty miles an hour above the posted speed limit.

  “Look up ahead,” Casey said.

  Two patrol cars were pulled off the side of the road. When Drake’s Porsche came into view, the first of the two laid down two long black streaks of burnt rubber as it pulled out. The second car also pulled out and fell in behind them.

  In less than ten seconds, the three-car convoy was traveling ninety miles an hour. When they were clear of highway traffic, their speed was closer to a hundred and ten miles an hour.

  “Damn, these boys are good,” Casey said.

  “They are,” Drake said as they passed two sixteen-wheelers that had pulled as far as they could onto the shoulder to let them by. “Paul came through. Let’s hope Liz does, too. We have to find the dam.”

  When they left the city’s southern limits, their speed increased to nearly a hundred and thirty miles an hour. Despite the circumstances, Drake had a smile on his face. Speed was his secret addiction. His buddy seemed to be enjoying the ride as well.

  “Next year,” Drake casually remarked, “I’m thinking about entering the Silver State Classic Challenge. You interested in riding shotgun?”

  “Is that the race in Nevada where they close ninety miles of the highway and let you drive as fast as you can?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “Sign me up. I might even bring the 1970 Hemi ’Cuda I’m restoring. Probably have to enter it in a faster class than you enter, though.”

  Before Drake could respond to the challenge that had just been laid down, his cell phone buzzed.

  “Adam,” Liz began, “we think the dam is eighty-five miles southwest of Bend in the Cascades. Inundation maps from the Army Corps of Engineers predict that if the highest dam fails, two other dams below it will also fail. There will be a wall of water rushing down that will be a hundred feet high by the time it reaches the valley floor. It’ll be like a tsunami. Worst-case scenario is that a hundred thousand people will die in the flood.”

  “We’re almost to Sunriver,” Drake replied. “As soon as we’re airborne, we’ll need the GPS coordinates for the dam. Is the dam defended in any way?”

  “There are two employees there. There’s a security fence, but that won’t keep anyone out who’s prepared to get through it. Those guys and their dam are sitting ducks.”

  “If we don’t get there in time,” Casey asked, “how much warning will the people down river have?”

  “The first city will have an hour, maybe four hours for the cities on the valley floor. It’s not enough time to evacuate those cities. This will be a catastrophe!”

  “We’ll just have to get there in time, Drake said. “Warn the guys at the dam we’re coming and have someone ready to collect that nuke. That’s one bomb I don’t want to have anything to do with.”

  56

  The white Interceptor patrol cars drove through the twisting lanes of the Sunriver Resort with their flashing lights warning vacationers along the way that an emergency was in progress. When the convoy reached the airport, Drake took the lead and drove out onto the airport apron to Casey’s Bell Relentless helicopter. He skidded to a stop mere feet from the aircraft. As Casey jumped out of the Porsche, Drake thanked the deputies for the escort to the airport.

  “Our pleasure, sir,” the senior deputy said. “We don’t get to drive this fast very often. Where are you flying to? Does this involve the explosion at the polo match?”

  “We think it does, but that’s all I can say right now,” Drake said. “If we’re right, you’ll read about it tomorrow. Thanks again for your help.”

  Casey had already done his visual inspection of the helicopter and was now going through his pre-flight checklist when Drake joined him on the flight deck.

  “Buckle up, buddy,” Casey said. “This baby’s ready to fly.” The five-bladed, main rotor system started turning overhead.

  As he took his seat, Drake took a close look at the all-glass instrument panel in front of him. The four twelve-inch color display screens reminded him of the cockpit in an F-35 stealth fighter.

  “Does this thing fly itself?” he asked.

  “Almost,” Casey said. “Call Liz and get the coordinates for the dam and I’ll show you.”

  As the two eighteen-hundred horsepower GE engines lifted the helicopter off the ground, Drake called Liz to get the coordinates. When he repeated them to Casey and they were entered into the state-of-the-art avionics system, Casey pointed the Relentless toward the distant mountains and sat back with a broad smile on his face.


  “We’re flying at 150 knots per hour,” he said, “it won’t be long now.”

  “How fast is that?” Drake asked.

  “One hundred and seventy-three miles per hour. We’ll be there in twenty minutes. What’s the plan when we get there?”

  “Simple. First we find a place to land. Then we stop the bad guys from using the bomb.”

  “Your planning still sucks.”

  “But the execution of said plan will be a thing of beauty,” Drake said. “You’ll see. What weapons do we have here?”

  “What my team carries; four HK416 assault carbines, four Glock 21s, and my Remington M24 sniper rifle.”

  “That’ll do,” Drake said. “Let me check in with Larry and see how they’re doing at the polo field.”

  Greene’s report wasn’t what Drake hoped to hear.

  “Including Vazquez,” the former L.A. cop said, “there are twenty-seven dead and twelve who are critical and probably won’t make it. The EMTs are triaging another forty or so injured and traumatized. This is worse than some of the suicide bombings I saw in Iraq.”

  “Did you find anything in Vazquez’s trailer?” Drake asked.

  “Nothing except his cell phone and a change of clothes in the sleeping compartment at the front of the trailer.”

  “Find Paul and give him the cell phone. Ask him to find out who Vazquez was talking to here in Bend. If this is a suicide mission for these guys on the Harleys, the leaders have to be somewhere close unless they’ve already bugged out.”

  “Got it. Where do you want me after that?”

  “Stay with Paul and help Liz if she needs anything. When we find the nuke, we’ll need someone coordinating our role in all this with law enforcement and the feds. I don’t want us spending the next month explaining how we found the nuke when the government couldn’t,” Drake said.

  “Good luck with that,” said Green. “When you make the government look bad, you become the enemy.”

  “That’s why we need to keep our names out of this. Make sure Liz gets the credit. She can say it was her hunch that the nuke was headed to Oregon. DHS won’t argue with her story.”

  “I hope you’re right. Good luck at the dam.”

  “How bad is it?” Casey asked Drake, who was staring at the mountains ahead.

  “It’s bad,” he said, “thirty-nine dead or dying and another forty wounded.”

  “What a sick, twisted way these guys fight a war.”

  Speeding toward what both men hoped would be another chance to stop the killing of innocents by an enemy they knew all too well, their minds flashed through other grisly scenes they had witnessed.

  “Do you think we’ll see the end of this war in our lifetime?” Casey asked several minutes later.

  Drake sighed. “We won’t ever defeat evil. All we can do is kill as many evil-doers as we can, starting with these pukes today. Are the weapons in the rear storage locker? I’m feeling the need to have a gun in my hand right now.”

  “Rear locker, right side. Lock and load them all. The dam is ten minutes away.”

  57

  Cresting the Cascades southwest of Bend, Casey flew the Relentless five hundred feet above a dark green carpet of Douglas firs. Dead ahead, the waters of the six thousand-acre reservoir behind the dam shimmered silver reflections of the afternoon sun. The reservoir, which was seven and a half miles long, controlled the runoff of a three hundred ninety square mile drainage area.

  “That’s a lot of water,” Casey said.

  Drake finished loading their armory. “I’ve fished there,” he said. “The earthen dam is fifty years old. It’s not hard to understand why it’s their target. Follow the highway and look for those Harleys. If we get there first, find a place to land so we can surprise them. I want to be sure they have the bomb and intend to use it here before we do anything.”

  Drake moved forward, tightening the straps of the drop-leg tactical holster on his right thigh and took his seat. “The area around and above the dam is heavily wooded, as I recall. You may have to set down on the highway beyond the dam and let me run back.”

  “I’ll find some place close,” Casey said. “We’ll do this like we used to, together. You’re not going it alone.”

  “Only if I have to,” Drake answered as he began searching ahead with the binoculars he’d found in Casey’s gear bag. “Head north just a bit. I think we may be in luck. There’s a clear-cut area on the top of that ridge above the dam. If you can set down there, it’s only a couple hundred yards or so down to the highway.”

  The Relentless swung right and approached the logged-off top of the ridge.

  “Looks like they’ve cleared the brush and slash for replanting,” Casey said. “I should be able to set it down on that flat area at the top of the slope.”

  Drake was searching the highway to the east. “I don’t see the Harleys,” he muttered. “I’ll try to get to the dam before they get here. Get as close as you can and then cover me.” He pulled the shoulder strap of his HK416 over his head and positioned it across his chest as he prepared to jump out of the helicopter as soon as it touched down.

  When Casey landed the Relentless in a swirling cloud of dust and debris, Drake moved to the door behind the flight deck, opened it, and jumped down to the rough and uneven logging site and took off running down the slope.

  When he reached the trees at the edge of the clear cut, he saw that the ridge sloped precipitously for a hundred yards to the highway below. Reaching out to the rough bark of the fir trees to slow himself, he ran a slalom course between the trees until he started to outrun his feet. With a lunge to his right, he slammed against the broad trunk of a tall fir and stopped, only ten feet from the edge of a twenty-foot drop to the roadway below.

  Taking a deep breath, he moved laterally to his right around the sharp drop-off, and then surfed down a loose gravel embankment to the edge of the highway. When he regained his balance, he ran toward the dam, which was a hundred yards away.

  ~~~

  Casey was almost at the edge of the clear cut when his cell phone buzzed. Stopping briefly under the branches of the first tree he reached, he listened as Montgomery reported in. His voice was barely audible over the roar of the Yukon as it raced on the road to the dam.

  “Mike, we have four Harleys in sight, two hundred yards ahead of us. Four bikes and one’s pulling a small trailer.”

  “How close are they?”

  “Well, we’ve driven three miles along the reservoir. I’m not sure how close to the dam that makes us.”

  “You’re half way to the dam,” Casey said. “Keep them in sight, but don’t close in yet. Drake’s on the highway running back to the dam. I’m on a ridge overlooking the dam. Let’s make sure the dam’s their target before we act.”

  “Roger that. We’ll hold back until you tell us to engage.”

  Pocketing his phone, Casey ran diagonally through the tall trees until he reached a point at the edge of the drop-off directly across from the dam. He unslung his sniper rifle and looked through the lens of the scope at the scene below.

  The spillway of the long dam was near the highway. The control building was fifty feet on the other side of a razor-wire fence. Running along the fence was a small gravel parking lot large enough for a car to pull off the highway or a service truck to turn around and head back down the mountain. There were no cars in the parking lot right now, and no Army Corps of Engineers employees visible through two windows facing the fence and the highway.

  Looking east, he spotted the four motorcycles half a mile away and heading toward the dam. They were riding single file, with the bike towing the trailer third in line. As he watched, the first two Harleys pulled beside each other, as if they were motorcycle officers leading a funeral procession. With a grim smile—your funeral, guys—and a quick glance back to the west, Casey saw Drake slow to a walk as he entered the parking lot and continued toward the gate to the control building. The assault carbine was hidden from view by his right le
g.

  Casey phoned Montgomery.

  “Billy, there’s a small graveled parking lot at the dam. Drake just got there. He’s at the west end. I’m on the hillside above with my M24. Pull off the highway and get out and stretch your legs. Wait until they make the first move. Once they’re down, secure the nuke.”

  “Roger that. Do we know if the thing is armed?”

  “No, but they probably wouldn’t drive all this way with it armed. If it’s hot, we’ll think of something. Pray to God it isn’t.”

  Explosive ordinance disposal was the deadliest job in the military, Casey knew, and it wasn’t something he wanted any part of, especially if this particular ordinance was a nuclear device.

  He focused his rifle scope again on the convoy of Harleys and watched as it neared the dam. When the four motorcycles reached the parking lot, one of the lead Harleys rode on to the west end, stopping behind Drake. Another pulled into a position at the east end. The Harley pulling the trailer pulled up next to the gate in the razor-wire fence that led to the control building, and the last Harley stopped beside it, shielding it from the view of passing motorists.

  Casey watched Drake approach the Harleys near the gate and greet the two men with a casual wave of his left hand.

  58

  Drake looked at the two men sitting on their Harleys. Neither had dismounted, which would give him an advantage when they recognized him, as they surely would.

  The only sounds he could hear over the rushing water in the dam’s spillway were the crunch of gravel under his Nikes and the clicking of the motorcycle engines as they cooled. Neither man returned his greeting, even when he came to within fifty feet of them. Their eyes were hidden behind the tinted visors of their matte black motorcycle helmets, and their gloved hands still gripped the handle bars in front of them.

  Then, as both men slowly reached back with their right hands to the saddle bags on their Harleys, Drake knew he’d been recognized. When the man closest to the highway brought up a Micro-Uzi, he was sure of it. The little submachine gun, with a magazine of twenty nine-millimeter rounds that could be fired at a rate of twelve hundred and fifty rounds per minute, was one he was familiar with. He had to smile at the irony of its being in this Muslim terrorist’s hand. The Uzi had been a favorite of the Israelis before it was phased out.