by Mark Harritt
Sam saw the lights of the Dodge bouncing down the logging road. He was out of time. He thought he knew where the shooter was, but he wasn’t positive. He could smell him, but he didn’t have an exact location.
Sam watched as the Dodge drove past the road to the valley. He breathed out, knowing that this was just a short reprieve. He watched the lights turn around and start heading back. Things were not going well. He watched the Dodge stop. He knew what Lazarus was thinking. Do I turn in, or do I drive out. Lazarus didn’t know if Sam had gotten the last of the shooters, or if the shooters had gotten him.
He watched the Dodge turn onto the side road. The bright lights were on, making it hard to see who was behind the wheel. The lights played across the side of the ridge.
Sam saw something out of the corner of his eye. He wasn’t sure it was real, and he didn’t want to move too quickly. He hoped that the shooter was preoccupied with what Lazarus was doing on the valley floor. The Dodge stopped, and the door opened. Lazarus climbed out, standing behind the door. He cupped his hands around his mouth. He stood behind the lights, which made his form indistinct to Sam and the sniper on the ridge.
Lazarus yelled, “Hey, Sam, did you kill the snipers yet?”
Sam heard the sniper curse. Instantly, he snapped the MP5 up into the firing position and began shooting. The bullets shredded the sniper’s camouflage netting. The sound of the bullets hitting flesh were punctuated by the grunts of the dying man. Sam walked over to him. The man cursed him, in several languages. He stood on the dying man’s neck to help him on his way. Weak hands slapped at his feet and legs. Soon, there were no more curses.
Sam pulled out his radio, “You crazy bastard. Yeah, I found them both. Problem solved.”
Sam went through the pockets of the dead man. He grabbed the rifle, and went back to the first man he killed. He pulled out all of the dead man’s pocket litter, and slung that rifle as well. He turned and walked down the hill.
When he got to the truck, he piled the two rifles on top of the bed cover. He took the magazine out of the MP5, and made the weapon safe. He did the same thing for both of the Weatherby .308s.
Lazarus looked at the rifles, “Weatherbys. Let me guess, the snipers are British. SAS?”
Sam shook his head, “No way. These guys were way too easy to kill. They weren’t military trained snipers. They didn’t have spotters or any kind of security. They didn’t have anybody watching their six o’clock approach. No way they’re SAS. I don’t even think they were Brits. Hell, I don’t even think they were military. As civilians go, they were good. But it was like they learned it out of a book, all theory, no real practice. I don’t think they were fully briefed on who they were going up against. So, maybe they were some kind of mechanic, but not military, possibly some kind of organized crime. Lookin’ at their pocket litter, their IDs are good, but not the best. So, whoever they are, probably not a government organization backing them.”
Lazarus tucked that bit of information away, “So, now, where’s the cache with our weapons in it?”
Sam pointed at the lights on the pickup truck, “Maybe we can do this without telling everybody where we are.”
Lazarus walked back and turned the lights off, “Anything else you need?”
Sam nodded, “As a matter of fact, there’s a shovel in the bed of the truck. Can you get it out so that we can dig up the cache?”
Lazarus looked down at the pants and shoes he was wearing. He wasn’t exactly dressed for digging in the mud. Sam watched Lazarus’ silent appraisal, “Don’t worry, I’ll do the digging. This time.”
Lazarus took the two rifles and the submachine gun and put them on the back seat. He opened up the camper, rummaged around and pulled out the shovel. Sam took a flashlight and GPS out of the truck. He turned on the GPS, let it warm up, and put in the geo coordinates. He walked forward with the GPS, and turned the flashlight on. Lazarus followed him with the shovel. Sam came to a stop. He traded the GPS and flashlight for the shovel. Lazarus held the flashlight so that Sam could see what he was doing.
Sam started digging. He jammed the shovel into the dirt. Two shovels of turned dirt, and the shovel struck something. It wasn’t buried very deep. His smile beamed in the light of the flashlight, “I guess they didn’t want to work too hard. For once, I’m glad somebody decided to be lazy.”
Sam cleared the dirt off of the pelican cases. Lazarus walked back to the truck, and drove it over. Sam pulled the boxes from the ground, and handed them to Lazarus. Lazarus walked them to the back of the truck. He opened up each case, and inventoried the contents.
“Was it everything you wanted?” Sam asked.
Lazarus nodded, “yeah, looking pretty good. We have the long guns and the pistols. And, they threw in a lot of extra ammunition as well.”
Sam was happy, “See, I told you my contacts were good. Now that you’re satisfied, we can wire the money for the next geo coordinates.”
Lazarus was satisfied with the arraignment. It was working well so far, despite the interlopers.
“Hey, Sam, you might want to tell your supplier about our welcoming committee.”
“Huh, why?”
“Think about it. If these guys knew we were coming to the cache, somebody had to tell them.”
Sam nodded, “Yeah, I see. There has to be someone on the inside feeding them information. And, if the snitch is feeding them information about us, they may be feeding information about my suppliers. I don’t think they’re going to be too happy to find out they have a snitch in their operation.
Lazarus agreed, “I can well imagine they wouldn’t.”
----------------------------------------------------
Chapter Six – Father, Bless this Van
Lazarus thought about the last geo cache that they had picked up. The more he thought about it, the less he liked the situation. The problem that he contemplated was the truck they were in. It was large, which in itself, wasn’t a bad thing. It had plenty of room for weapons and munitions. Plus, it had a big back seat, which would give Lilith a place to sit.
The problem with the pickup truck was that it belonged to Sam. Anybody that knew Sam, knew about the pickup truck. If anyone wanted to jam them up, all they needed to know was that Lazarus and Sam would be carrying illegal weapons and munitions, and the make, model, and license plate number of the truck they were carrying them in. Next thing you know, there’s a fatal shoot out on the side of the road, and R.I.P. for Sam and Lazarus.
Lazarus brought this up with Sam. Sam didn’t look too happy about giving up his comfortable Dodge Ram with the bucket seats and the satellite radio. It took a while, but Lazarus finally brought him over to the idea of ditching the truck for the rest of the trip.
“So, where are we going to get a replacement,” Sam asked.
Lazarus replied, “No problem. I have a guy in Indianapolis that can help. His last name is Moretti, and he has some ties with organized crime. He can point us in the right direction.”
They made good time driving to Indianapolis. They got there and stayed at a Hyatt for the night. The next morning, they got up to head over to Lazarus’ contact. Lazarus gave Sam the address, and Sam plugged it into his mapping program. Thirty minutes later, they pulled onto Union Street, up to a Catholic church.
Sam pulled up in the street next to the church, “Really, a Catholic church? Who do you work for again? Are you trying to put me on a direct path to hell?”
Lazarus laughed, “Don’t worry. I’m not working for the infernal powers. Father Moretti has family on both sides of the aisle. He can give me a name, and send me someplace to get a vehicle we can use.”
They walked inside, kneeled, and made the sign of the cross. They walked back to Father Moretti’s office. They stepped inside the office, and an older lady working outside of Father Moretti’s office smiled as they entered, “Can I help you?” The plate on her desk said, ‘Mrs. Donbar.’
Lazarus nodded at her. “Yeah, I need to talk to Father Mo
retti. I have a favor to ask of him.”
She looked confused, “Do you have an appointment?”
Lazarus shook his head, “No, my friend and I were driving through, and I wanted to stop by and say hello.”
Mrs. Donbar’s confused look changed to one of concern, “I’m sorry, he’s a busy man. Usually, we need you to make an appointment.”
Lazarus smiled. He thought this might end up being a long conversation. Not because Mrs. Donbar was trying to be difficult. Lazarus got the feeling from the conversation that Mrs. Donbar wasn’t quick on the uptake. He decided to try a tactic that had worked out well for him in the past. He decided to be extremely pleasant to her.
“No ma’am. I’m sorry. Let me explain. I’m an old friend of Father Moretti. My name is Eli Bethany.”
He smiled at her, she smiled back. He walked over to her and put his hand forward to shake hers. As she reached out, he took her hand, then turned it and kissed the back. She blushed. After he kissed the back of her hand, he put his left hand over the top of hers, in effect, sealing the kiss between her hand and his, creating an intimate moment between them. He looked into her eyes.
“If you could, I think Father Moretti will be happy to see me. Could you please tell him that Eli Bethany is here?”
She blushed, and stood up. She was definitely not used to getting this much attention from a man. Her husband probably hadn’t created that feeling of intimacy in quite a long time. She walked over to Father Moretti’s office, and opened the door. She stepped inside and announced them. She said something else that Lazarus couldn’t quite hear.
“Ah, Eli! How are you Eli?”
The voice boomed out of the office. Mrs. Donbar walked out, a gleam in her eye as she looked at Lazarus, “Father Moretti will be happy to see you, Mr. Bethany.”
Eli bowed slightly, “Please, call me Eli. All my friends call me Eli.”
Mrs. Donbar looked very pleased as she sat back down. She would be thinking about that kiss on her hand for quite some time. Sam watched the entire situation with amusement. As they walked into the priest’s office, he leaned over and told Lazarus, “You’re going to have to teach me that move sometime.”
Lazarus’ face was the picture of innocence, “What move’s that?”
Sam snorted. They entered the priest’s office. As they walked in, Father Moretti stood up with his arms spread wide. Moretti walked around his desk and gave Lazarus a hug. Moretti let go of Lazarus, looked at Sam and held out his hand, “Hello, how are you? My name’s Father Moretti.”
Sam held out his hand and shook the priest’s hand. Moretti wasn’t a small man. He had the look of a wrestler. The years had added pounds since he had been on the mat, though. Still, that hand shake indicated that Father Moretti had sand. Sam wouldn’t be surprised if Father Moretti worked in the trades when he was younger, maybe as a bricklayer.
Lazarus motioned towards Sam, “Father Moretti, this is my friend, Sam Diabo. Sam, this is Father Michael Moretti.”
Moretti beamed at Sam. “Well, you’re traveling in good company here, Sam.”
Sam smiled back at the Father, “Well, I don’t know if he’s good company, but he accomplishes good things.”
Moretti laughed, “Ah well, I haven’t traveled with him. I’ll have to rely on your word about that. I just know he does good deeds.”
Sam nodded, “Yes he does.”
Lazarus waved it off, “Stop it, I’m gonna blush if you two keep it up.”
Father Moretti smiled as he walked back to his chair. He motioned to the two chairs in front of the desk. Lazarus and Sam each took a seat.
“So, what can I help you with Eli? Knowing you, I don’t think you came here just to say hello and chew the fat with me. What ‘cha got going these days?”
“Well, Father, I was wondering if you could do me a favor. You remember Joe Rignel?”
The smile on Moretti’s face disappeared, and he became very serious. He motioned towards the door and mimicked closing it. Sam stood up, crossed the office to close it, and sat back down.
Father Moretti leaned in and spoke, “You realize that I don’t really run in those circles anymore, right? I’m not sure it would be a good thing for me to send you to some of my old contacts. A lot of those boys are retired, or have been retired since I ran with them, if you get my meaning.”
Lazarus nodded, “Okay, I get that. Maybe I can tell you what I need, and you can give me an indication of what I need to do.”
Father Moretti nodded, and sat back, waiting to hear what Lazarus was going to tell him.
Lazarus continued, “I have a situation. We have a pickup truck, that is, unfortunately, way too noticeable. We have to, ah, transport some things to the western part of the country. Some of these things might be a problem if, say, the police or feds decided to pull us over.”
Father Moretti held up his hands, “I don’t think I need to know what you’re traveling with or where you’re traveling to.”
Lazarus nodded, “I agree, better you don’t know.”
Father Moretti looked at Lazarus, “You still sleeping with the angels there, Eli?”
Lazarus spread his hands wide, “What do you think, Michael?”
Father Moretti stared intently at Lazarus, then nodded. He turned to Sam, “This guy helped my sister out when she had some pretty bad problems. Not only did he save her life, but he also convinced me that there was a better way for me to spend mine. I didn’t run with a good crowd back in the day. Some of them were mobbed up. So now, not only do I have my family, but I get to help people every day.”
He turned back to Lazarus, “I have a better proposition for you. I still have a few cousins that may be able to help you out if you want to go that route. But, I think I have a better solution for your problem.”
Sam spoke up, “I’d appreciate it if I could come back and get my Dodge back after we’re finished.”
Father Moretti nodded, “yeah, I think I can help you out with that.”
----------------------------------------------------
Sam wasn’t happy at all. Still, as a solution, it wasn’t bad. It was a white, Ford, Econoline van. It wasn’t a panel van, but one that was set up for fifteen passengers, with windows on the sides. The windows behind the driver and passenger seats were tinted very dark, which would help hide their cargo. They had to take out the back two seats to have room for everything, though. Still, it had the two seats up front, and a bench seat, with plenty of room for everything else in the back. It wouldn’t be as comfortable as Sam’s truck, but it wouldn’t be too bad.
Lazarus pointed at the radio, “Look, at least they have satellite radio.”
“You ain’t helping much, Eli,” Sam groused.
They were at a garage for local Catholic charities. Vans for the Diocese operated out of the garage for the parishioners of the Catholic churches in Indianapolis. Sam could park his truck inside the garage, which was a plus because it kept inquisitive minds out of their business, and gave Sam’s truck some security as well. They took the seats out of the back, and transferred the pelican cases from the truck to the van. The rest of their luggage and equipment was quickly passed over as well.
Sam got into the van and fired up the engine. Lazarus hit the button on the wall and the metal door began rising. Sam pulled the van forward, and Lazarus shut the door behind it. He walked to a side door, opened it, and walked out to the waiting van. Lazarus hopped inside. Sam was playing with the satellite radio on the dash. He punched a few buttons, and music fired up, but Sam didn’t look too pleased.
“What’s wrong?” Lazarus asked.
Sam poked at buttons on the radio, “Well, you’re right, it has satellite radio. Problem is, there isn’t a subscription.”
Lazarus looked at him, “Are you going to grumble about this all the way to Arizona?”
Sam had a frown on his face. Lazarus got the hint.
“Okay, what do I have to do to activate the subscription?”
Sam
smiled. He rattled off a phone number, and the number on the radio. Lazarus called the number, and pulled out a credit card to charge the subscription.
“What do you mean, a whole year? I don’t want it a whole year. I can’t get a subscription for a month?”
Sam’s smile grew bigger as Lazarus argued with the sales representative.
----------------------------------------------------
The next stop was an old, run down gas station outside of Terre Haute, Indiana. It was daylight, the land was flat, and there wasn’t any available cover for shooters. The only shot was from an overpass two miles away, which, while possible, was extremely doubtful. This made it unlikely shooters could try to reach out and touch them. Lazarus did a sweep for explosives, and didn’t find anything. They looked inside and found two pelican cases. There were lots of ammo cans as well, with 7.62mm written on the side in yellow ink. There was a thousand rounds of ammunition for each of the weapons.
Sam opened up the pelican cases, and showed the contents to Lazarus, “So, what do you think?”
Lazarus whistled, “I haven’t seen those for a while. I didn’t know they still made them. Last time I used one was in Vietnam.”
Sam smiled, “They still make them, but not as many since the Department of Defense went with the M249 and the M240B. But I figured, since we have big problems, we might want to use these.”
They were looking at a model based off of the WWII German Maschinengewehr 42, and would later inspire the M249 5.56 Squad Automatic Weapon. It was a 7.62 M60E6, with bipod and vertical hand grip.
Lazarus nodded, “Big problem, big gun. I agree. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to hold it while I shoot it, though.”
Sam was very happy. He was like a kid in a candy store, “Yeah, and notice, this is the special operations configuration. They only made a few of these things before the DoD switched over to the SAW.”
