“Come on, buddy,” Hughes was saying, “Little Bear’s just sitting around doing nothing. She’s waiting. She wants to fly, man. She digs it. She loves being up in the air. Let her fly, man. Let her fly.”
“One hour,” JC said.
Hughes let out a whoop of joy as he cut off the phone. JC smiled. Hung up his own phone. Felt like letting out a whoop of joy himself. Didn’t want to scare Jamie. He had solved the first problem. Now to the second: moving the people in Franklin’s group to safety. No vehicles. Walking was out of the question. No footprints. No heat signature.
He had it.
Asked Jamie to pull over. He needed to make two more calls. Calls that she couldn’t hear.
First call was to Coletti: Bring as many bicycles and bike trailers as you can get to the farmhouse. Get the guys on the cycling team to help.
If driving was out of the question and walking would produce footprints and heat signatures, then JC needed to get Adams’ group off the ground and shielded. Bicycles for those who could ride, trailers for those who could not. Wrap everyone in Mylar survival suits. Easily picked up at survival stores. Put a heavy woolen poncho, blanket or any kind of insulated clothing over top and that should do a fairly good job of masking and shielding the riders from the thermal imaging cameras. Not ideal. But it was the best solution for the situation.
His second call was to Mercier. A little surprise for Kowalski.
Chapter 33
Enough Embarrassment
Kowalski stood there. Unmoving.
The drone was still offline.
His agent had asked him what his orders were several times. Without an answer, he simply waited for the drone to come back online. Or for Kowalski to snap out of it.
The General stood. Walked over to Kowalski. Stood in front of him. Jabbed him in the chest with his index finger.
“You’ve screwed this up about as much as anyone could screw up a thing. Good luck staying out of prison,” he said. Turned and walked for the door. “Won’t do you a damn bit of good. You’ll find a way to screw that up, too. But good luck anyway.” Slammed the door behind him.
Kowalski stared at the empty monitor. It was all going so well. Go in. Get the rifle. Get out. Easy. Piece of cake. What the hell did Bannister do to screw it up? If he really were such a hot shot fixer, why couldn’t he manage this simple op?
The more Kowalski thought the more pissed he got. Every step of the way since the meeting at the library, Bannister had been dicking around. Slowing things down. Disagreeing with pre-determined courses of action. Poking him. Making fun of him. Fighting with him. Humiliating him in front of both subordinates and the senator. That bitch Joan knocked him out at the airport. What the hell kind of crew were they, anyway?
Then he got scared. How many people were supposed to be in that compound? Forty-five or fifty? Sure, he lied to Bannister. He knew they were all going to be there. There was no indication they would be gone. Had to. Wouldn’t have gone in, otherwise. But now they’re all dead? All of them? Burned? What did Agent O’Donnell say? A big explosion? A fireball?
He needed eyes on the ground. He picked up his radio.
“Agent O’Donnell. Report.”
“Yes, sir. Here, sir.”
Kowalski’s phone rang. Bannister.
“Hold, Agent O’Donnell.” Kowalski answered the phone.
“Bannister, is your team still inside the compound?”
“Yeah, we’re trying to get things mopped up in here. We’re about done,” JC answered. Distracted.
“Get them out. My team is waiting to come in.”
“What the hell for? The plan was for you guys to arrest anyone you can. There’s no point. Everyone is dead.”
Kowalski paused. He was having a hard time getting his head wrapped around that.
“Still. They need to come in and check things out.”
“All right,” JC said, unconvinced. “But I’m telling you, there’s nobody here for them to take. Everyone is dead. Blown up. Burned up.” He paused. “Best thing for you guys is to get the hell out of here. Chalk it up to a training mission gone bad. Scrub the books. Make like it never happened.”
Kowalski was thinking. It sounded like a good idea. Easy solution for him.
“Besides,” JC continued, “hasn’t the agency had enough embarrassment in the past couple of years? Agents doing body shots off hookers in Colombia or cheaping out on the price of a blowjob is one thing. You don’t want this to be the Secret Service version of Waco. Or Ruby Ridge.” Paused. “Right? Just pull back, send your guys back to Henderson, then back to L.A. or D.C. or wherever. Get your drone down and just get the hell out of here.”
Kowalski was convinced when Bannister said the word “Waco.” Kept the line open with Bannister. “Agent O’Donnell, respond.”
“Yes, sir. Here, sir. Awaiting orders.”
“Pull back. Return to staging area, then regional headquarters.”
“Sir?” O’Donnell said.
“You heard me, Agent. The training mission is cancelled. Too dangerous now. Gas leak caused an explosion. Local law enforcement is en route. Withdraw now.”
“Roger, sir. Understood. Withdrawing.”
Kowalski cut the radio. Turned to the young agent manning the drone. Said a little louder than necessary, “Once the drone is back online, bring it home.” Kowalski was shaking his head and waving his hands when speaking, trying to indicate the opposite of what he said.
The agent understood. Replied, “No problem, sir.” Gave Kowalski the international “OK” sign with his right hand.
“You hear that, JC? We’re pulling out. See you back in L.A. this afternoon. You got the sniper rifle, correct?”
“Yeah, we got your damn rifle.” JC hung up.
Kowalski grinned. Turned to the agent manning the drone. “Get that drone up and running in under two minutes or I’ll have you standing guard over a sewer grate in D.C. eight hours a day.”
“On it, sir,” the agent replied.
No way was JC going to give me orders, Kowalski thought. Even after the explanations, the beating yesterday, Kowalski constantly being one step ahead of him, Bannister still thought he had the upper hand in all of this. No way, he said to himself again.
Chapter 34
We Just Did
JC hung up the phone and jogged after Franklin.
It was almost four a.m. Sunrise was still several hours away. The hall was mostly burned out. The further JC got away from the burning building, the darker it got. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he realized the moon threw a fair amount of light, enough for him to see without a flashlight. Enough for him to see Franklin walking ahead, leading the way to the tunnel exits on the eastern edge of the buildings. Enough for him to realize how stark and almost beautiful the desert landscape was.
JC never wanted to see a desert again in his life after he left Iraq and up until now he really hadn’t. His time in South America was spent either in the cities or the jungle, not the high. He wasn’t a real outdoorsy type of guy. He enjoyed the pulse and pace of a big city. He did have a farmhouse out in the country around Boston, but that was more for the option of seclusion than anything else. He spent most of his nights either in a small apartment near the bike shop or in the bike shop itself.
He never really knew what he was missing. This desert was radically different than the desert he experienced in Iraq. It didn’t even feel like a desert. The two words that kept coming into JC’s mind as he followed Franklin were “arid” and “beautiful.” He looked at the rocks, the low vegetation, the low trees dotting the landscape. Understandable why Franklin loved the area. But JC also knew that even though it was a bit chilly now, in the early hours of the morning, it would be rather warm in the middle of the day. Suddenly the idea of all the tunnels across the property made a lot more sense.
JC didn’t believe that Kowalski was going to recall the drone. Unlikely to send his men in, especially if he was worried about local law enforce
ment showing up. Or scandals. But having the drone fly high above, sight unseen, checking things out? If JC was in charge of the operation, he would keep it airborne as long as possible. So he had to expect Kowalski to do the same. The virus Duke had infected the drone with had about run its course. Very soon the drone would be able to see again.
“Franklin. We about there?” Softly. Voices carried far in the arid desert air.
Franklin stopped. Pointed. JC came up next to him. Sighted roughly down his arm.
“Right over there. Maybe three hundred yards away. Right behind that low rise.”
JC saw it. Remembered it from before. The bicycles were all there. Hughes was waiting in his C-130 about a mile away. Deserted road outside of a deserted mining town. Far enough away from cities and town to not raise eyebrows. Far enough away from the border to not show up on radar.
Perfect.
They got to the opening of the tunnel. Hector was standing guard. AR-15 held at the ready. Franklin’s wife Gloria was next to him, holding a pistol-grip shotgun. Formidable team. Franklin briefed his waiting group again on the plan. Pointed out the Mylar suits and insulated clothing. Put the first one on himself. Partly as a way of letting his scared group of followers know it was okay. Partly because if a drone came around, there should only be four people visible: JC, Joan, Duke and Theo.
*****
It took longer to get everyone suited up and ready to go than JC was expecting. It was almost five o’clock in the morning. The sun would be coming up soon. Theo and Duke were getting antsy to start moving. JC waited. Told them if they were in such a hurry, why didn’t they help the people get ready. They stopped talking.
Waited.
Joan shook her head. Went over and started helping the remaining members of Franklin’s group get their Mylar body suits on. Duke and Theo followed.
Everyone was ready at ten after five.
JC told them their directions. Gave Franklin three GPS units with the course plotted in. The Sons of Liberty set off on bicycles, the younger ones or those who couldn’t pedal for themselves riding in trailers. Mylar survival suits peeking through blankets and heavy clothing. There was food and extra water waiting with Hughes in Little Bear. The group would need it.
JC gathered his own team.
“Listen, guys. We need to go back to the compound.”
“What for?” Duke asked. “It’ll be light, soon. We need to get on that plane and get the hell out of here.”
Theo nodded. “He’s right, boss. Longer we stay here the bigger the problems.”
JC knew they were right. Knew going back was a big risk. But he also knew Kowalski’s team would be far away from the compound by the time they got back there. Definitely out of earshot. Despite what he had told Kowalski, no local law enforcement was coming to the area. It was too remote and an explosion and fire during the night would raise few alarms, if any. Nobody would be coming unless they were called out.
Which JC would do.
After he left his little surprise for Kowalski. The one that Mercier had picked up for him from Gorman’s shop.
JC picked up a duffle bag he had left near the entrance to the tunnels. There was one more still on the ground. In the dark of the morning, they looked almost like large rocks or logs. He opened it. Showed it to the team.
Duke started laughing.
Joan smiled. Her wicked smile.
Theo looked in the bag. “What? It’s a bunch of guns. So what?”
JC smiled as well. “Not just any guns, my friend. We took these from Kowalski’s team back in D.C. They’re registered to the Secret Service. Which means they have forensic data on each and every firearm in there. Trace a bullet fired from these guns and it gets traced back to the Secret Service. To Kowalski’s team.”
Theo understood. Smiled as well.
“You think he reported them stolen?” Joan asked.
“Doubtful,” JC replied. “You think Secret Service would let him continue with executive protection of a high profile politician if they knew he’d lost this many weapons?”
JC zipped up the bag. Hitched it over his shoulder. “Let’s get back there. Shoot the hell out of everything. Then leave all these lying around.”
“Sounds a bit fishy, Secret Service leaving their guns lying around after they assault a compound like that,” Duke said.
“Not looking for convictions here. Looking to make things messy. Besides, I imagine this will be the least fishy thing for an investigator to figure out with all the dead bodies to deal with.”
Duke nodded. Passed the .50 caliber sniper rifle off to Joan. Picked up a bag. Theo took the remaining bag. They walked as quickly as they could back to the compound. Put their weapons down. Put on gloves. Loaded up with weapons from the bags and started firing. Came in from the east as they originally had, dropping weapons as they ran out of ammo. Halfway through the guns they reversed course. Came at the compound from the west. Through the main gate. Made it look like two groups invaded the compound.
When all the weapons were empty and dropped in various places, they made their way back to their own weapons. Got ready to go.
JC’s phone rang. Kowalski.
JC smiled. “I knew he’d have that drone up in the sky.”
Answered the phone.
“What, Kowalski?”
“Where the hell are you?”
“Still in the compound. Decided to look around for more stuff. We got some paperwork. Laptops. Couple of ID sets. Cleared out one bunk to make it look like the guy who lived there took all his stuff and left.” Paused. “Why?”
“Nothing, nothing,” Kowalski answered. “Good thinking. Just wanted to check on your progress.”
“Yeah, right. See you this afternoon.”
JC hung up without waiting for Kowalski’s response.
“Dude was totally watching,” Theo said.
Duke looked up. “Can I flip him the bird?”
JC shook his head.
Joan nodded her head in the direction of Franklin Adams’ burned out and shot up compound. “I think we just did.”
Chapter 35
Burn Him
JC leaned his seat back. Stretched out. Very comfortable.
A chartered G4 Gulfstream is a world away from the cargo hold of a C-130.
Hughes had landed outside of JC’s house again. Coletti and Mercier were there with the cycling team. Vargas was still in the hospital. Sparks had shut down Gorman’s Machine Shop for the day to help out as well. Trying to be a team player. Still on the wagon.
Everyone helped unloading. The cycle team had been busy converting the old barn into a place where people could sleep. It wasn’t plush, but it wasn’t horrible compared to their spartan digs back at the compound outside of Henderson. Franklin got everyone squared away. JC took some time to check in with his cycling team. They were still shook up from Vargas’ accident. He took some time to reassure them, told them that Louis, the co-captain, was in charge until Vargas was healed up. Reminded them they still had their first race in June. And that he expected them to win. Everyone laughed. JC didn’t. He was serious. Which made them serious. JC knew they would lose and lose badly. He didn’t care. He did care that they took pride in themselves and took the goal seriously.
Coletti drove JC and his team to Hanscom Field. Chartering a jet on short notice was expensive. However, they needed to deliver the .50 caliber sniper rifle from the Sons of Liberty’s compound to Kowalski waiting in L.A. There were very few ways they could get across the country on such short notice. With a stolen sniper rifle. And few questions asked.
Once on board, Duke and Theo fell fast asleep. JC had just leaned his seat back and was contemplating doing the same when Joan sat down next to him. He didn’t open his eyes. Smiled. Ever since he had met her she always smelled the same: clean. Hint of flowers. Didn’t matter where they were, what they had been doing. Climbing and running and gunning across desert landscapes or slogging through humid jungles, she always managed to smell t
he same.
“Get some rest, Joan,” he said, keeping his eyes closed.
Joan said nothing. Waited. JC opened his eyes. She was sitting across the aisle. She had cracked open the mini-bar. Had a glass in her hand. What looked like one airplane bottle’s worth of alcohol in it. Which meant either she already had one bottle’s worth put away or was just starting on her first.
He guessed the latter. Joan was not a heavy drinker. None on his team were. JC rarely drank and the rest followed his lead. Joan usually drank for three reasons: relaxation, celebration or when she was conflicted about something. This was neither a time for relaxation or celebration.
Which meant conflict.
“What?” JC said gently.
Joan sipped her drink. “What did you tell me? That night in Prague?”
JC took the glass from her. Smiled. Sipped. Whiskey. “We said a lot of things in Prague, Joan.”
Joan’s jaw was set. Her face hard. Unsmiling.
JC’s grin faded. “No women. No children.”
Joan nodded. “What’s changed?”
He gave her back the glass. Knew she was talking about killing Senator Marcus. Looked out the window. Saw blackness. His distorted reflection. “It’s different.”
Joan sipped the whiskey. Stood. Walked and set it down on the closest table. Walked back, sat. JC continued to look out the window. Joan waited. It was a long flight. JC turned back to her. Joan was always beautiful, he thought. Always. Her hard-set jaw had relaxed. Her face, softened.
“Listen, Jackie,” she said. Smiled. Jackie McNulty. His alias when they met. JC smiled as well. “I know you don’t want to kill her. I know you don’t want to follow Kowalski’s plan. You’ve done a pretty good job of screwing with him at this point. Best part? He doesn’t even know it yet. When Franklin and the Sons of Liberty go public, he’s done. Cooked. Let’s do it all the way. Burn him.”
[JC Bannister 01.0] The Fixer, Season 1 Page 19
