by K. T. Tomb
“We’re about 30 minutes out of Dulles,” the pilot announced.
He felt himself begin to grow tense with anticipation. Although he didn’t believe that an attack at Dulles would be possible, there were plenty of opportunities for an attack between the airport and the federal holding facility.
The FBI had lined the way as best as they could with security assets and had provided an armored truck to transport the Boss, but he’d already seen, first hand, that armored trucks weren’t entirely invincible. Remembering the attack from before made his stomach churn even more.
Chapter Twelve
“You have anything you want to confess or any names you want to give me before we go?” Romeo asked as the plane came to a stop inside the hangar.
“You ain’t no priest,” Brown spat.
“Maybe not, but from here until you’re in the federal lockup, your life is in my hands,” Romeo growled.
“I ain’t telling you nothin’ without a deal.”
“Suit yourself.” Romeo looked at the team around him. “Alright, gentlemen, are we ready?” He’d seen CNN the night before just like everyone else in the world. Everyone knew that they would be arriving at Dulles. He had little doubt that the news cameras had followed their plane all the way into the hangar. Some reporter was probably interviewing the leader of Brown’s rescue squad before their assault. He understood the need of a free press, but sometimes being too free with the press got people killed.
“Everybody in the world knows where we are and what we’re doing, so look sharp,” Romeo barked.
Although there was a security team waiting for them outside the plane and inside the hangar, Romeo knew that if there really was a leak in the FBI, as he suspected, any portion of the transfer could be compromised.
They exited the plane rapidly and slipped into the back of the armored car. Once they were ready to roll, they opened the hangar doors wide enough to drive the armored car out of the hangar. On either side of them, as they exited the hangar, were two black, armored Humvees decked out with weapons and loaded with more of their team members. He knew that there would be security all along the way checking for any possible threats and rerouting the convoy if necessary.
The convoy sped up and started across the tarmac toward the open gate. In his opinion, in spite of the security, the airport was their most vulnerable point. He’d hoped that the security teams had cleared the entire area and that the over-flights had taken care of making sure that everything was secure. He had no other option than to trust that they had done their job. Of course, there was the leak….
The first of three simultaneous explosions rocked the armored truck sending it careening wildly as the driver fought against the explosion that had jerked the wheel out of control. Romeo, Brown and the agents in back were tumbled like socks in a dryer as the driver fought to regain control.
Making certain that Brown did not have the opportunity to grab a weapon from one of the other agents, Romeo took a firm hold on the collar of Brown's body armor and held him against himself as tightly as he was able.
Another explosion rocked the truck and it tipped over onto its side and slid along the tarmac between the two Humvee's. Automatic gunfire began to rattle all around them and Romeo looked at his other team members to make sure that they were okay. A couple of them were stunned, but still able to function.
He suddenly realized the source of the secondary explosion when he felt the heat of flames toward the front of the cab. Without the flames, they would have simply stayed put inside the armored truck until they were either assaulted or the rest of their team came to get them. With flames and the heat of the fire growing, however, they would have no choice but to exit.
“Teams of two, just like we drilled.”
The first two were supposed to set the perimeter, the second two ascertain the nearest cover and he and his partner were supposed to take care of Brown. The group of six would keep Brown inside their small perimeter and they would hustle him off the tarmac to regroup and hope that their security team was able to gain control of the situation.
“Ready, go!”
The door flew open and they exited the armored truck quickly. The perimeter guys were taking heavy fire as they exited and had to pull back into the cover of the truck. Since the first two hadn’t moved, the second two were stuck in the doorway and he, Brown and the other agent were still unable to exit.
Fire from the two Humvees was heavy in spite of the fact that they had been immobilized. Brown’s forces likely had hand-held launchers. He’d trafficked in weapons, so he had nearly any weapon he needed at his disposal for an assault.
“We’ve gotta move, gentlemen,” Romeo called out. “That fire isn’t going to wait on us.”
“We’re under heavy fire,” one of the men outside called out.
Romeo heard the chain gun of a helicopter join into the din sound of firing. “Move now while that chopper provides cover. Go!”
The team moved as a tight unit. Most of the bullets were being directed toward the defensive teams and the helicopter. That bought them enough time to clear the burning truck and start toward a hangar a hundred and fifty feet away.
As they ran and fired, two of his men went down and the security around Brown was compromised. It would serve the son of a bitch right to take a bullet from his own posse, Romeo thought, holding him close to himself, knowing that if the assault team was Brown’s posse, they would be careful where they shot. If not, he was their primary target. With the same odds as a flip of a coin, Romeo was betting on the assault team being Brown’s posse.
They lost a third man before they were able to slip under cover and the relative safety of the hangar. Within moments, two more agents joined them in the hangar, one of which took up a position alongside one of the original team members to keep a watch on any of the assault team that happened to slip away from the main firefight which was still raging on the tarmac and move toward them; the other joined Romeo.
“Jesus, Romeo,” he grinned as he approached. “You enjoy this kind of shit or something?”
“Not so you would notice,” he growled. He wasn’t smiling and for a split second, he wondered why anyone else would be, but he really didn’t have time to dwell on it. “We need to get him a little further into this place.”
“I’ll take care of that,” the newcomer volunteered. “You take a drink.”
Romeo took the canteen that was offered to him without even thinking, and then something struck him. He hadn’t seen the agent in the hangar team or the security team. Where had he come from so suddenly? He was in the FBI, but it took Romeo several minutes to come up with his name. Findley.
“Come on, Moses,” Agent Findley said, pulling the Boss from the floor and onto his feet.
Romeo’s gut told him that something wasn’t right, before he had any logical reason for thinking it. Instinctively, he raised his weapon and leveled it at Findley. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the man positioned by the door turn his weapon toward what was left of Romeo’s team and heard a bullet whistle by him in route to taking out the team member nearest to Romeo. In the same instant, Romeo fired at Findley, who, while pulling Brown from the floor had produced a knife and was bringing it up toward Brown’s throat.
Romeo’s first bullet shattered the face guard of Findley’s helmet and his second one made a hole between the man’s eyes. Romeo saw him collapse to the floor; the knife rattling on the concrete as it fell away. He quickly turned toward the other shooter at the door, feeling the impact of a bullet striking his armor as he turned. With the body armor on, it was like being punched really hard in the chest. Romeo fired while tumbling backward and his shots missed their mark.
The gunman’s finger squeezed down on the trigger. Romeo awaited the barrage of bullets that would be coming in his direction, but they sprayed harmlessly into the ceiling as a well-aimed bullet from someone behind Romeo took him out.
As the gunfire outside began to die away, Romeo struggl
ed at catching his breath.
“You alright, Moore?” It was Robert’s voice.
He nodded his head in reply. Instead of fighting his lungs, he tried to relax and breathe.
“You guys, make sure this is all of them,” he said, looking over his shoulder and waving at the others.
“I guess we found our leak?” Romeo indicated to the man he’d shot only moments before.
“That would be him.” Robert replied. “Darren Findley.”
***
Though he had a pretty significant bruise on his ribs, which hurt a little bit when he moved too fast, Romeo was mostly unscathed from the close quarters gun battle in the hangar. With Brown safely transported to the federal holding facility, Romeo had been sent home to try and get some needed rest.
“We’ll brief this whole mess tomorrow,” Robert had said as he put him in a car driven by an agency driver and sent him home.
Once safely at home, he’d enjoyed a long, hot shower and then slipped into a pair of scrubs that he’d been given by an old girlfriend; a nurse. They were comfortable and made it easy to relax. He strolled into the kitchen and looked through his refrigerator, not sure what he was looking for or what he really even wanted, other than a cold beer.
He slowly lowered himself into the recliner in his living room as he tried to decide what he wanted to eat. He reached for the remote and flipped on the TV as he pulled the lever on the recliner to sit back. Chinese sounds good. He started looking around on the table beside his chair for the phone, then patted his pockets for his cell phone. Shit. He was going to have to get up and look for the phone. He pushed the lever forward, closing the footrest, and started to rise when his doorbell rang.
Romeo hadn’t even had a thought about his bags. They were supposed to be delivered to his house after Brown had been transported, but Romeo had forgotten about them completely until he heard the doorbell; then he realized that they had probably arrived. Reaching for his pistol and tucking it in the waistband of his scrubs, he moved slowly toward the door and looked through the peephole. He smiled the second that he saw the beautiful face of Consuela.
“Damn you’re a sight for sore eyes,” he beamed as he opened the door for her.
“You still look like hell,” she replied before placing a warm wet kiss upon his lips.
As she moved past him, he saw the takeout bags from his favorite Chinese restaurant in her hands. “And you brought food.” He was beginning to wonder if she either had surveillance on him or could read his mind.
“So, what do you want first, food or…” She didn’t need to finish the sentence. The sparkling eyes told him what the second choice would be.
He grinned, moving in for a longer, more passionate kiss on her soft lips.
The End
Return to the Table of Contents
LITTLE WOLF
A novel by
K.T. Tomb
Little Wolf
Published by K.T. Tomb
Copyright © 2017 by K.T. Tomb
All rights reserved.
Little Wolf
Chapter One
The forest teemed with life.
Sounds of the bluebirds greeting the morning sun rang out through the mountains, echoing across the valley. Mockingbirds and cardinals sang the springtime into being, too. So did the squawking jays and crows. Treetops swayed in the morning breeze. A hushed wind combed through the branches, reaching into the brightening eastern sky. Night creatures spilled forth from the undergrowth, scurrying to their holes and nooks. Cold-blooded creatures slithered into the sun, warming their serpentine bodies enough to hunt.
Then, some of the bigger animals appeared...
A small female wolf returned from the hunt, a plump quail hanging limply from her jaws. She pushed through ferns and thorny undergrowth, her fur thick enough to withstand most thorns, although some jabbed her flesh. She ignored the pain. She’d suffered through far worse pain than a few embedded thorns.
Once in the cushioned den, matted with pine needles and the fur of long-dead meals, she dropped the fat quail in a far corner. The fowl quivered, staring at her unblinkingly, bleeding from its many wounds. Too broken to fight or run, and too scared to flee, its tiny chest moved rapidly, rapidly, then not at all.
The female wolf looked at it without remorse. It was, after all, only food to her. She must feed… she had a long labor to come and she needed nourishment for the strength to battle through it. Her body quaked with a small tremor as she stepped into the den. She knew the others were still hunting, but the Alpha would return to her in time to stand guard over her labor.
Restless, she paced the small den, her fur brushing free some of the flaking bark of the crisscrossed branches that kept out most of the rain and snow. The den’s entrance was small but secure. The ground was warm and soft with the pine straw she’d spent over a week collecting. The fur and feathers of her prey added a soft touch.
She stopped pacing when the hunger within overwhelmed her. Or was it the pain that signaled the impending birth of her cubs? This was her first litter, after all. Finally, she sat before the now-dead quail, and pulled it open with her great jaws and deft use of her paws. She was a wily one, clever and capable.
Later, when her belly was content, she was still anxious. The soon-to-be mother wolf rested her paws on the den’s ledge, which led out to the forest. She sensed the life around her and the life that stirred within her womb, too. The pain came quicker now, pulsing through her body. The others were not far from the den; some paused by her den’s entrance, staring at her with yellow eyes and often leaving her bits of meat. They knew she would soon be weakened by the whelping.
More tremors. Sharp pains. Her tongue rolled free as she panted and strained. She needed water, but knew she must stay in the den. With eyes closed, she felt the life move within her, and now heard and smelled the Alpha. Such strong footfalls. So confident. So big. His scent, so perfect, rich, and exciting.
Upon his arrival, the Alpha sat quietly outside the entrance to the den and, with him there as guard, she could now focus on the birth of the cubs. She would not eat, drink or sleep until the delivery was complete. Time would stand still for her, as nature took its course.
***
She breathed in deep huffs, her white teeth bared against her curled black lips. She rested on her side in the pine straw and fur and dirt, bracing against the pressure building through her body.
When the first pup dropped, she followed her instinct and nuzzled it, breaking the membranous sac with her teeth and licking it. This bolstered her strength by offering a bit of protein to her body. The blind babe moved slowly across the soft nest, searching for milk. The next pup arrived in a similar ritual, licked clean and pushed toward her already swollen teats. The third arrived, and then a fourth. Mother Wolf looked them over, finding no fault with the pups. Each was marked in its own way. The first had blue-gray markings around the eyes and muzzle. The second had black circles outlining its eyes. The third pup wore a pelt of solid white, which would offer it camouflage in the winter months, and the fourth was solid gray, just like the Alpha.
Now, the Mother Wolf rested her head on the soft, if not dusty, floor of the den as each pup nursed. She still had energy, but only enough to keep an eye on her young. She noticed that the fourth pup was having trouble finding her milk supply. She nuzzled the babe, licking it to encourage action. She already felt very, very protective over the little ones, so protective that she knew she would fight to the death for them.
Perhaps knowing this, the Alpha moved restlessly outside the den. He sensed the presence of the cubs, but he would not come to her unless she summoned him. She soon would. For now, she relished the company of her new offspring, their small sounds, their small movements. She felt deeply connected to them.
The pack would welcome them soon enough, she knew. Someday, each of them would have caretakers; as such, the entire pack ensured their chance of survival. A collective instinct, perhaps. She and the Alpha
had worked hard to build a bonded group, a strong pack, a true family. They hunted well and looked after each other. She loved the idea of her pups growing into strong members of their pack.
Her thoughts were disrupted by the fourth pup falling from her teat and twisting against the straw. His body seized in strange jerking movements, weakness overtaking him. Mother Wolf pulled him to her with her muzzle and licked him with determination. It was all she knew to do. Shortly, she let out a small sound to alert the Alpha.
His head appeared at the mouth of the den. He seemed to instantly size up the events, and she suspected he’d already had caught the slight change in scents as the pup’s condition had taken a turn for the worse. The Alpha found a way through the small space and nuzzled at the little creature. But the little one, she saw now, was unmoving.
Long after the Alpha had retreated, Mother licked at the lifeless babe, his little head resting on the smooth ground. Later, when she stopped licking at the lifeless body, and attended to the cubs who again demanded her attention, Alpha appeared again. He gently picked up the dead pup’s small body with his great teeth, and left the den with it.
She had never felt this sense of loss before. It was as if a part of her was gone, a part she would never know again. She had the others, and a lively trio they were, but her maternal instinct was strong for all of her offspring and it was heartbreaking to lose even one of them. After sniffing the ground where the dead pup had lain, the mother turned her attentions back to the remaining three, all of which nursed greedily, so young that they were unaware of their lost brother.
As the realization sank in that she would never know where Alpha buried the dead cub, she became even more distraught. Mourning the loss of the dead cub, she howled softly to herself. It was a song of death and loss and pain.
