Jim McAfee and Joey Rodriguez, his corporals, followed him toward the station after telling the rest of the men to stand easy in the chopper.
The three soldiers entered the police station, their rifles at the ready in case of trouble.
The ready room of the station was empty, except for a short Asian man sitting behind the main desk with a sign on it that said DESK SERGEANT.
“Can I help you gentlemen?” he asked, evidently not taking much notice of their rifles.
“Who’s in charge here?” Bell asked, looking around the room suspiciously. There wasn’t much action, but then it was early in the day and a town this small probably didn’t have a whole lot of crime anyway.
The desk sergeant wrinkled his forehead. “Why, that’d be the chief of police, Jackie Malone,” he answered.
“Would you get him down here?” Bell asked.
“Sure,” the man answered, “only it’s a her, not a him.”
“What?” Bell asked.
“The chief is a lady,” the desk sergeant answered with a smile as he walked to a nearby door that had CHIEF OF POLICE written on it.
He knocked on the door, opened it, and stuck his head inside. “There are a couple of gentlemen to see you, ma’am.”
After a minute or so, a slim, attractive woman wearing a blue uniform walked into the room from the office.
She and the desk sergeant stood in front of Bell and his corporals. “What can I do for you?” she asked.
“We’re here to see if anything out of the ordinary was reported last night. We had a radar sighting over in Indianapolis of an unidentified plane flying over this area.”
Before she could answer, Jim McAfee cocked his M-16 and lowered the barrel to point at the two police officers.
“There’s something fishy here, Tommy,” he said, glaring at the two people in front of him.
Bell glanced at Jim, thinking his corporal had gone crazy. “What’s the matter with you, Jim?”
McAfee pointed with his rifle. “Looky there. Their name badges are all wrong.”
Bell turned around to look. The name badge on the Asian man’s pocket said Myron Applegate, while that on the female’s chest read John Malcolm.
“Son of a . . .” Bell started to say as he began to raise his rifle.
Tiger Tanaka exploded into action, his right leg moving almost faster than the eye could see, swinging up and around, clipping Jim McAfee on the chin and dropping him like a stone. Continuing his spin, Tiger whirled around and with a spinning back-kick, caught John Rodriguez in the stomach, doubling him over and to his knees.
Before Bell’s rifle moved six inches, Jackie Malone stepped in and swung a straight right jab into his chin, putting out his lights and knocking him to the floor.
After handcuffs were applied all around, Jackie motioned with her head toward the chopper outside, still sitting on the square with its rotors turning.
“Get them in here,” she said. “We can use the Huey.”
Tiger glanced at the name Bell on Tommy’s left breast pocket, then walked nonchalantly out the door toward the chopper.
When he was almost to it, he made a cutting motion across his neck to the pilot and waited until the engine had been shut down.
He walked under the slowing blades without ducking—at his height he had no need to—and called to the men. “Lieutenant Bell says for you men to come into the station and get some donuts and coffee. He’s gonna be a while.”
The men grinned and piled out of the Huey, a couple pausing to light cigarettes.
“Follow me and I’ll take you to your lieutenant,” Tiger said, suppressing a smile at the gullibility of the soldiers, who clearly were expecting no trouble.
He stepped to the side as they entered the station, and picked up Bell’s M-16, which he’d left there.
Jackie Malone was standing behind the desk sergeant’s desk, smiling sweetly at the men as they gathered before her. None had their weapons at the ready.
She pulled an Uzi from behind the desk and casually pointed it at the soldiers. “I’m terribly sorry, gentlemen, but I’m afraid I’m going to need your helicopter.”
Two of the men at the rear made a motion to raise their rifles, until Tiger, who was behind them, cocked his M-16 with a loud metallic click.
“Stand down, soldiers,” he said in a gruff voice, pointing the rifle at them.
They all dropped their weapons and raised their hands.
“If you men would be so kind as to strip down to your skivvies, I’m going to need your uniforms too,” Jackie said with a smile.
After the men were stripped down to undershorts and T-shirts, Tiger put them all in the drunk tank, along with Bell, McAfee, and Rodriguez.
He walked back to the office Jackie was using. “Not a bad morning’s work,” he said.
She agreed. “Now, we can use those uniforms and that chopper to make a little trip to the Air National Guard base down the road. I’ll bet they still have a couple of choppers or airplanes we can use.”
“I can’t wait,” Tiger said with a savage grin.
The Huey, piloted by one of Jackie Malone’s men and containing fifteen men, most of whom were dressed in Tommy Bell’s squad’s uniforms, came in low out of the sun toward the landing field at the George W. Bush Air National Guard Base in Peoria, Illinois, a little over a hundred miles northwest of Indianapolis.
The radio crackled to life. “Unidentified helicopter, this is the air traffic control tower at Bush Air National Guard Base. Please identify yourself,” the scratchy voice commanded.
George Grant, pilot of the chopper, keyed his microphone. “Search and rescue squad from Indianapolis under the command of Lieutenant Thomas Bell,” he said. “One of our men has been badly injured and we need to land for immediate medical attention.”
“We’re at minimal status currently,” the voice answered. “Most of our troops have been sent south. Can’t you make it to Indianapolis?”
“Negative,” Grant said, putting some urgency in his voice. “Our man is bleeding badly and we need to stabilize him before traveling further.”
“Come in on Landing Field Z-22,” the tower said. “We’ll have our medic standing by.”
Grant grinned over his shoulder at Jackie Malone, who was standing in the doorway behind him. She returned the smile and gave nun a thumbs-up sign.
Tanaka, who was lying on a stretcher in the cargo hold with ketchup and bandages on his uniform, laid his head back and assumed an agonized expression.
“Take it easy, Tiger,” Jackie said. “You’re not trying for an Oscar here.”
He nodded as he slipped a .45 automatic under the bandages on his chest, and feigned unconsciousness as the chopper settled to the tarmac near a large hangar.
As Jackie and the other men jumped to the ground, an ambulance screeched to a stop next to the Huey and a young man who looked to be no older than eighteen rushed to the hatchway.
He motioned to two of Jackie’s men, and they picked the stretcher up and put it in the back of the ambulance.
Just before the medic climbed in, Jackie asked, “The tower said you were at minimal staffing. What’s going on?”
The medic glanced at her lieutenant’s bars, then replied, “Most of the troops and aircraft have been sent down to Oklahoma to fight the Rebs. There ain’t but a few of us left here.”
“Exactly how many?” Jackie asked casually.
Sensing something was wrong, the medic jumped into the back of the ambulance, only to be met with Tiger’s .45 pointing at his face.
“The lady asked how many,” Tiger said, a menacing scowl on his face.
The medic hung his head. “’Bout six, I guess.”
“Okay, that’s better,” Jackie said. “Now, where is your commanding officer’s office?”
Lieutenant Colonel Hadley Crow was sitting behind his desk when Jackie and two of her men walked in without knocking.
Crow jumped to his feet. He was unarmed. “What’s the
meaning of this?” he barked, as if he were still in command of the situation.
Jackie gave a casual shrug. “You’ve just been invaded, Colonel. We are taking over your base.”
“But . . . but . . . that’s impossible!” Crow sputtered, looking around as if he needed someone to explain further.
“No, it’s not,” Jackie said patiently. “Now, if you don’t want your men slaughtered unnecessarily, you’ll get on the phone and have them assemble here in your office.”
“But what reason can I give them?” he asked.
“Tell them it’s a surprise inspection.”
“They’ll never believe that.”
“You’d better make them believe it, Colonel, or you’ll have the deaths of your entire command on your conscience,” Jackie said in a voice that showed she wasn’t kidding.
The colonel slumped back into his chair and reached for the phone.
Within twenty minutes, he had seven airmen standing at attention in the hangar below his office. Jackie accompanied him to stand before them.
“You men are all under house arrest,” she said as her troops stepped out from hiding and surrounded the men. “If you’ll go with the colonel here, I’m sure we can find room for all of you.”
After the colonel and his men were led off, Tiger and Jackie walked around the hangar, inspecting the planes that were there.
“Jesus,” Tiger said, “here’s an A-10 Warthog, one of the best of the old ground-attack/strike fighters.”
“Yeah, and over there’s an F-111 Aardvark,” Jackie said, “one of the first fighter-bombers that could make low-level precision bombing attacks by day or night.”
Tiger glanced at her, grinning. “You know, with these and the Huey, we could give President Osterman a real sleepless night.”
Jackie nodded. “You’ve got a point there, Tiger. Let’s go get on the horn to Ben and see what he thinks of the idea.”
TWENTY-FIVE
Claire Osterman was furious. She grabbed an ashtray on her desk and flung it against a far wall, narrowly missing General Bradley Stevens, Jr., who ducked and then, realizing how silly it made him look, stood back at attention.
“What the hell do you mean you haven’t heard from the squad you sent out yesterday?” she screamed, making even Herb Knoff, who was more or less used to her tantrums, wince.
“As I said before, Madame President, we haven’t been able to raise Lieutenant Bell or the pilot on any of our frequencies since they flew over Cedar Rapids, Iowa, yesterday.”
“And just why not, General? Do you think they vanished into thin air?”
“No, ma’am. It could be anything from a radio malfunction to a simple plane crash. They were flying in a fifty-year-old Huey helicopter and it may have developed engine trouble . . . or something.”
“I don’t believe that for a moment, and I have a sneaking suspicion you don’t either, General,” Claire said, calming down somewhat.
Stevens shook his head. “No, ma’am. If they had a radio malfunction, they would have landed and checked in on a land-line, and if the chopper had crashed, we would have had a report of it by now from the civilian authorities.”
“So, like me you think Ben Raines had something to do with this disappearance of one of my helicopters?” she asked, glancing at Herb to make sure he was paying attention.
“Either that, or possibly a group of our own rebels, supporters of Otis Warner or General Winter,” Stevens said, choosing his words very carefully so as not to trigger another outburst from Claire.
“Son of a bitch!” she hollered again, slamming her hand down on her desk so hard the phone jumped in the air. “First those bastards try and kill me and take over the country. Then they set traitors on my soldiers and kill them.” She looked at the ceiling as if speaking directly to God himself. “Will I never be quit of those assholes?” she asked rhetorically.
“What would you like me to do, Madame President? Send another squad to check on the first?” Stevens asked diffidently.
She glared at him. “You’re the fucking general, General, do whatever you think best.”
He nodded and turned to leave.
“But,” Claire continued before he could reach the door, “if it were me, I’d be very careful about sending more men and expensive equipment to try and find men who are already undoubtedly dead. Otherwise, you may end up sending yet another squad to check on the checkers.” She paused, a deadly look on her face. “Do you get my drift, General?”
“Yes, ma’am, I understand.”
“After all,” she said with a shrug, “even if rebel forces have captured the helicopter, how much damage can a fifty-year-old machine do to us?”
Stevens was afraid to tell her just how awesome a fighting machine a Huey with a fifty-caliber machine gun mounted in the hatchway could be, even if it was fifty years old. If she hadn’t seen films of the Vietnam War or Desert Storm, who was he to risk his stars by reminding her?
Ben Raines threw back his head and laughed out loud. “Jesus, Jackie, I sent you up there to do a little guerrilla warfare and maybe recruit some rebels. I didn’t expect you to invade the U.S. and capture their bases one by one.”
“Like they say, General Ben, never send a woman to do a man’s job. She may just surprise you with the results.”
“You can say that again,” Ben said, still laughing. “Now just what do you have in mind to do next? Charge Indianapolis and make Sugar Babe Osterman surrender?”
“Something like that,” Jackie purred.
“What?” Ben asked, sitting up straight in his chair. “Now, Jackie,” he reasoned, “don’t do anything foolish.”
“Too late, Ben, I’ve already joined the Army.”
Ben chuckled. Jackie was one of his best commanding generals. In spite of her good looks and youthful appearance, she was known as Ironsides by her troops. When given an objective, no matter how tough or impossible it seemed, she drove her men, and herself, unmercifully until the goal was accomplished. There was not one of her troops who wouldn’t throw himself on a grenade to save her life.
“Seriously, what are your plans?” Ben asked.
“Well, I thought you might give that bitch Osterman a call and demand she draw her troops back from the border.”
“And just why would she do that?” Ben asked, intrigued at the way Jackie’s mind worked.
“Because you might remind her that if she crosses us again, there is no place on earth safe for her to hide in, and if we coordinate it just right, at that exact moment my troops and I can hit her base with a few bombs and rockets.”
“You’ll never hit her,” Ben said. “From what our intel says, she’s dug in deep underground in fortified bunkers.”
“That’s not the point, Ben, darlin’,” Jackie continued. “I’m not trying to kill her, just to show her she can run but she can’t hide. Can you imagine the paranoia she’s gonna feel when you tell her you can get her and seconds later my attack bombers hit her base? I guarantee it’ll scare the shit out of her to be so vulnerable in her own home base.”
Ben hesitated a moment while he thought it over. “That’s a great idea, Jackie, but do you think you can pull it off with minimal casualties? I’d love to put a scare into Sugar Babe, but not if it means risking your life to do it.”
“Sure, it’ll be a piece of cake. From takeoff to strike, our time is fifteen minutes. She won’t have time to scramble an egg, much less her defense fighters. I figure we can make two or three quick passes, then get the hell out of there before they know what’s hit them.”
“And then?”
“We sweep around under their radar and land back here at the National Guard base. They’ll think we just disappeared in thin air.”
Ben nodded, though Jackie couldn’t see the gesture. “Good. Let’s do it.”
Claire Osterman’s head was thrown back against the pillow and she had her hands in Herb Knoff’s hair. “Come on, baby, come on,” she urged as she bucked beneath him.
<
br /> She almost screamed in frustration when the phone on her bedside table rang.
“Oh, goddamnit!” she growled, the mood broken. She pushed him off her, ignoring the sweaty, pleading look on his face.
“This had better be damned important,” she yelled into the phone, breathing heavily and glancing at the clock. It was five minutes until midnight.
Her secretary said, “I hate to interrupt you, Madame President. . . .”
“Not as much as I hate it, Gladys,” she growled. “What is it?”
“I have a man on the phone who says he is General Ben Raines.”
“Ben Raines?” Claire asked incredulously.
“Yes, ma’am. Shall I tell him to call back at a more appropriate hour?”
“Of course not, you fool! Put him through.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
There was a series of clicking, buzzing noises, and then the voice of the man Claire hated above all others was on the line, speaking as if he were a long-lost friend.
“Hello, Sugar Babe,” he said.
“Don’t call me that, you bastard! What do you want?” she asked heatedly.
“I thought I might prevail upon you to move your troops back from our borders and prevent you from making another terrible mistake.”
“My troops are just undergoing training exercises on our own territory, Ben,” she said, trying to calm herself.
“Yeah, sure, Sugar Babe. But I would like you to try and remember what happened the last couple of times you tried to cause trouble between our countries. You got your ass kicked but good,” he added.
“Listen, you arrogant son of a bitch,” she yelled into the phone. “It’s you that’s going to get his ass kicked this time, and that’s a promise.”
“Modern warfare is such a bitch, Claire,” he said reasonably, as if he hadn’t heard her. “In the old days, leaders could sit behind their desks thousands of miles from the front and send young men and women into combat with nary a risk to their own life and limb.”
“So what?” she asked, puzzled at what he was trying to tell her.
“Well, those days are gone forever. Now, if a leader decides to cause a war, that leader must be shown that there is no safe place for those who cause the needless death of others.”
Warriors from the Ashes Page 17
