Michelle focused on what she needed to do. Snapping her eyes open, she immediately looked at her watch. Actually it was Thompson’s watch, a military style model with a black rubber strap. They had borrowed it as part of her illusion, and as soon as she had put it on Andy had loosened it and turned it so the face of the watch rested on the inside of her wrist, not the outside where it normally would.
“Why am I wearing it like this?” Michelle had asked.
“Because you’re a professional killer. And when you’re shooting people, you might want to be able to tell what time it is without flipping your wrist over.”
“In case I’ve ordered a pizza during a firefight?”
Andy chuckled and replied, “Yeah, something like that. Just trust me.”
“I am trusting you . . . with my life. But I’m also making a mental note to ask you exactly what you did in the military.”
“If we live through this, you can ask me anything you want,” he said.
“Will you tell me?”
Andy gave a slight smile and shrug as he replied, “Probably not.”
Focusing back on reality, Michelle noted the time. It was 10:07 AM. Her game face back on, she said, “COM bird is overhead in fourteen . . . thirteen . . . twelve . . .”
Andy met her eyes and nodded his understanding. “Establish contact with the Raptors. Tell them to hold on station for another ten . . .” Andy looked up hard at Colonel Jordan before continuing. “Also let General Chandler know that the command situation up here has been . . . rectified.”
Michelle pulled out a small ear bud from underneath the collar of her blouse and placed it into her right ear. The trailing cord disappeared into her neckline, looping once around the center bridge between her bra cups before descending further south, terminating in the small metal plug that was tucked into her waistband. It was plugged into nothing.
“Fear. That’s the third rule of covert warfare. Very few operatives depend on superior firepower. But you can certainly make your enemies believe that they are faced with overwhelming odds. And if they fear retaliation, or imminent destruction from forces beyond their control, beyond the scope of what they have any hope of defending themselves against, many of them won’t even question your ability to inflict that destruction, whether you actually have it or not,” Andy had said.
Michelle pressed two of her fingers against the small speaker embedded in her ear. She had practiced this speech several times . . . just in case.
Touching her thumb to her throat, she tilted her head slightly. “Phoenix Flight Nine, Phoenix Flight Nine, this is Silver Hammer, over.” The hallway was silent, watching and listening. After a short pause Michelle continued, “Phoenix Flight Nine, Silver Hammer lead requests a holding pattern above target zone for ten, repeat ten minutes, authorization Cricket 2947 delta.”
Michelle cocked her head as if listening to the response from the imaginary bombers, or fighters, whatever the hell a Raptor was. Then just like they had practiced, she looked towards Andy and nodded, confirming that the illusionary pilots understood the phantom orders.
For every listener’s benefit, she spoke out loud. “Switching frequencies.” A quick a reach into her pocket with her left hand added to the façade. “Silver Hammer to Forge, Silver Hammer to Forge, come in.”
Another pause.
“Confirmed encryption protocol, standing by for relay to War Chief Seven.” Michelle looked up at Andy who nodded and replied.
“Tell the general that I am placing Major Larrabee in charge of this unit. Colonel Jordan has been relieved of command but not terminated. Yet.”
Michelle nodded, relaying the orders to the fantasy general before removing the ear bud and tucking it back inside her blouse.
Andy inclined his head toward the athletic cage door and said to no one in particular, “Open it.”
“Sir, yes sir,” Estes said as he used a key taken from Tango Three’s leader to unlock the makeshift “chain and Master lock” door security. Andy led the way, followed by Estes, Colonel Jordan, Michelle, and two other members of Estes’s squad.
Chapter 31
The room was bathed in flickering illumination that emanated from several sets of four foot, double fluorescent light fixtures. Several large wire bins filled with a variety of athletic equipment were attached to the back wall. Handcuffed to the bins were two people. One of them was a silver haired man of about sixty. He was dressed in an antiquated pale yellow suit coat and matching pants that showed several drips, splatters and splashes of blood, the source of which was obviously his battered face. He appeared unconscious. One of his hands was cuffed to the bottom of a bin that held baseball equipment—bats, gloves, helmets, and other implements of America’s pastime that Michelle couldn’t make out. The other man had dark colored sweats and a t-shirt on, no shoes or socks and sported what could only be called a seriously pummeled face. Bloated cracked lips, eyes both swollen almost completely shut and skin crisscrossed with cuts and abrasions that still wept fluid. His dark hair was plastered with dried blood. Swollen face and dried blood aside, Michelle could still tell that it was Sam Ironfeather. Each of his hands were cuffed separately to opposite sides of a metal cage filled with basketballs and sets of shoulder pads. The sound of their approach caused him to slowly look up.
“Baf fo thum ore fu . . . fu..nnn?” he coughed out defiantly.
Andy immediately set in. “Well, well, well, look what we have here. Do you remember me? Oh, I think you do. I told you a long time ago that this day would come. I promised you that I would be the one to put a bullet in your brain. LOOK AT ME YOU SON OF A BITCH!” Andy snarled. “LOOK . . . AT . . . ME . . .”
Even through swollen eyes Michelle could see the glimmer of recognition on Sam’s face.
Andy continued, “I swore to you that one day I was going to put you on display in my executive conference room. Do you remember that place? I’ll bet you do.”
Andy walked over and knelt down next to the handcuffed state trooper. Grabbing his bloodied mop of hair with his left hand, Andy said, “LOOK IN MY EYES.”
Twisting Sam’s neck with enough force that he grunted in pain, Andy went nose to nose with him and hissed something that Michelle couldn’t make out. Then he stood up, shook his head in disgust and spit on Sam’s face.
“Stand that son of a bitch up against the wall,” Andy commanded.
Michelle reached into her fanny pack and withdrew a small set of keys. Her front door, office, personal, and work truck were all represented on the ring. Nestled between the two larger vehicle keys was a standard handcuff key. She drew the stainless steel pistol from its holster, handed it to Andy and walked over to where Sam was handcuffed. Kneeling down she unlocked his right wrist, stood and walked two paces over, and repeated the operation on his left.
“Stand up,” Andy said in an emotionless monotone.
“Fuu..ewww . . .”
“You can stand on your feet and die like a man, or I can shoot you right there like a dog, on your knees and begging for mercy. Just like you did to those families in Dallas and Phoenix. The families of my men.”
The only response was a slowly raised middle finger.
Andy quick stepped over and put his shoe on the bruised and bloodied figure’s shoulder and shoved him to the ground face down. Stepping deftly to the side with his left foot, he planted his right foot squarely between the shoulder blades of the downed man.
“Time’s up asshole.”
Aligning the sights of the silver gun on the hollow at the back of the man’s neck, he pulled the trigger.
BANG!
The brief silence had been thick before the explosion blasted into their eardrums, ringing, magnifying and echoing in the enclosed cement room. Michelle jumped slightly at the sound, then caught herself and froze. Sam’s body spasmed and flopped for a few seconds before becoming still.
“Body bag, now,” Andy said as he handed the gun back to Michelle.
One of Lieutenant Estes’s men
who was still in the hallway handed it forward. The two that were already in the room opened it up and laid it out next to the face down figure.
“Get him inside. I don’t want that traitor’s blood on American soil anymore than it has to,” Andy ordered.
The two men unzipped the black nylon carrier, scooting it next to the body before rolling the corpse onto its back and into the bag. A few quick shifts and adjustments and it was zipped back up with a speed that indicated familiarity with the task.
“Let’s get a few volunteers to carry this piece of a shit,” Andy said to no one in particular but in a tone that carried the unspoken command of ‘do it now’ along with it.
Four of Estes’s men spaced themselves around the bag and reached down, each grasping one of the multiple sewn in handles along the side. On the count of three they lifted.
Andy turned and ushered everyone out into the hallway. Looking around at the gathered faces he said, “Men, regardless of what you may think of me or my organization, what I just did was on the orders of the director of Homeland Security. Additionally, I’ve been appointed to make the call on the disposition of the previous command structure up here. For the callous, and cowardly decisions made by Colonel Jordan I am immediately and permanently stripping him of his rank and command. He will be held without bail in whatever capacity necessary to prevent his departure or escape until such time as a full military tribunal can decide his fate. The world is turning to shit, gentlemen. The last thing we need is to have to put up with douche bags on top of all of our other problems. Lieutenant, who is the man in the yellow suit and why is he in there?”
“He’s the mayor of this town. Colonel Jordan had him thrown in there because he wouldn’t shut up about the rights and needs of the townspeople, sir.”
“Get him out of there and up to medical immediately. Check that, have medical come down and get him. It doesn’t look like he’s in any shape to walk. Uncuff him and take him to the gym until they get here,” Andy said. Turning towards the colonel and members of Tango Three Andy said, “Gentlemen, your room awaits.”
In short order the cage was occupied by the four men, each handcuffed to a separate athletic bin. The lock and chain was reapplied to the door and the key given to Lieutenant Estes. Regrouping outside the door between the gymnasium and tunnel took only another thirty seconds.
Turning towards the gathered soldiers Andy asked, “Does the colonel or any of the guys from Tango Three have friends here who might try something stupid?”
Several of the soldiers exchanged glances and a few nods. One of the members of the scout platoon spoke up. “Sir, there’s probably a few troublemakers who have something to lose if the colonel’s not running the show, sir.”
“You know who they are?”
“Some, but not all of them, sir.”
Andy frowned. “How is it that you have you been serving with these men and don’t know who’s playing for what team?”
“Sir,” Estes said, “it’s because this unit has been pulled and pieced together from several different divisions. We’ve got regular army, army reserve, a few air force and navy as well—mostly on the medical teams though. There’s even two Marines that came in on a helo last night. And as you are aware of sir, we had National Guard as well. Had.”
“Well, in that case I guess we better post a guard.” Turning towards the scout platoon Andy said, “Echo Bravo Niner, split yourselves into two shifts. I want this door guarded 24/7. Nobody in or out without direct permission from Lieutenant Estes—and even with permission I want them searched. No weapons, no keys. Got it?”
The clatter of small arms fire interrupted their response. Seconds later the staccato bursts of several more weapons joined into the fray, cresting in intensity before slowly trickling off. Sporadic firing continued for another thirty seconds before the radios on the scout platoon and Estes squad crackled to life.
Incursion northeast zone, twenty plus hostiles, interior perimeter not breached, requesting medical assistance for sweep team, over.
After a brief pause the speakers sounded again.
Negative on medical at this time, repeat, negative on medical at this time. If no friendly’s are injured, we’ve got our hands full up here right now. Keep sweep teams contained until later. Over.
Roger that medical, we’ll leave ‘em lay.
“Lieutenant, get on the horn and have all available command structure at the front of the school in five minutes. I have a few choice words I want to say before I leave.”
Estes nodded as he walked over to the radioman in his squad. Stretching the coiled cord to its maximum length brought the transmit microphone barely a foot from the soldier’s shoulder. Estes keyed it and relayed Andy’s orders.
Several questions immediately came back, asking for clarification of “available” command structure.
“Tell them that available command structure means all officers and squad leaders who are not currently being shot at or performing open heart surgery,” Andy said to Estes.
Estes grinned and transmitted the orders.
With a final look around, they headed out of the gym and up to the school’s main entrance. Michelle noted that their black SUV had been backed in to the handicapped spot closest to the stairway entrance. It was idling quietly. Corporal Henry was standing at attention near the license plate. As they approached he shouted out “SIR, YOUR VEHICLE IS FULLY FUELED AND READY TO GO.”
“Very well private, dismissed,” Michelle replied as she walked past him and up to the driver’s side door. Lifting the latch to reveal the interior, she intentionally leaned over to reach for the remote attached to the keys.
“If we have to use our guns, then that means our plan fell apart. But there are other weapons in our arsenal. We’ve got Thompson’s knowledge of the layout and command structure. We’ve got my experience . . .“ Andy said accompanied by a quick double raise of his eyebrows, “in this type of situation. And Michelle, we’ve got you.”
“I don’t think I’m going to be much help,” she had said dryly.
“On the contrary my dear, you are the glue that holds our plan together. Pardon my saying, but with a body like yours squeezed into that tight little outfit, every guy in that place is going to develop eye strain and a limp. Hell, you may even convert some of the gay ones just by walking past them.”
“I doubt that . . . and what happens if we run into some female soldiers?”
Andy’s eyes twinkled with his reply. “In that case, they will be staring at you even harder than the guys. You know what they say about all those women in the military, right?”
“Great. So if this all falls through and we end up in front of a firing squad, I can at least rest in the knowledge that my executioners asked me out on a date before pulling the trigger.”
She had tried on several different outfits before narrowing it down to two. There was a dark mocha business suit that she purchased last fall for a regional awards banquet that she attended in Denver, and the inky, slithery deep purple number that her mom had bought her shortly after Michelle’s divorce. She felt like a fool modeling the choices for Andy and Thompson, but both of them picked the purple outfit hands down.
Depressing the bottom button on the remote triggered a clack that unlocked all of the vehicles doors. Turning her head she absently noted that the fuel gauge needle was pegged all the way to the right. More gunshots erupted and she jerked back into a standing position. Radio chatter indicated several more walkers had been located, only these had been inside the fence near the athletic field bleachers. Medical again declined to accompany the sweep teams. Walking to the rear of the vehicle she opened the doors and inclined her head towards the interior.
“Dump him in here,” she said to the four carrying the body bag. Several officers had already assembled and watched the mysterious procession take place. One of them was the major from the medical team. He was still wearing his scrubs. A standard surgical mask was pushed off of his face and gathered
around his neck.
“Is that . . .” The major hesitated as his eyes darted from the rear of the SUV to Andy.
Ignoring his question Andy scanned the gathering, noting many familiar faces from the meeting in Colonel Jordan’s office less than an hour ago. Looking down at his watch he turned to Estes and said, “Let’s give it a couple more minutes.”
Estes nodded, looking at his own watch in the process, and then over at Michelle.
“Something wrong, Lieutenant?” Michelle said, meeting his eyes.
Estes looked up, then back at Michelle before glancing over his left shoulder at the assembled soldiers gathering around Andy.
“No sir. It’s just that . . .” His voice was muted, like he was trying not to draw attention to his words.
Michelle shut the back doors then stepped over directly in front of Estes. With a practiced glare for emphasis she said, “What?”
Estes snapped to attention, eyes on the horizon and said quietly, “Sir, the F22’s.”
“What the hell are you talking about, Lieutenant?” she hissed.
This time there was no mistaking the look of confusion that crossed onto Estes’s face as he answered haltingly. “Sir, the F22’s, the Raptors. Down in the tunnel you ordered them to wait ten minutes.” Estes looked at his watch again and said, “Time is almost up sir, and I’d rather die fighting zombies then by being blown to bits from a laser guided bomb dropped from an airplane that I can’t even see, sir.”
The sheer force of her own reaction sent Michelle into panic mode. Shit, shit, shit. How could she be so stupid? She had screwed up, and the look on Estes face sent a shiver down her spine. It was a look halfway between confusion and suspicion. Different thoughts rapid fired through her brain as she tried to salvage the moment. Glancing at her own watch she mumbled, “Thank you lieutenant” before backing up near the black SUV and withdrawing the ear bud from her collar. Going through the motions again she requested another ten minute delay from the mythical airplanes. Estes’s eyes followed her like a hawk. Even the most clueless person in the world would have been able to tell that he was rapidly reevaluating the situation. Michelle saw him unsling his weapon. She was deciding whether to go for her own when Andy cut in.
Fade to Grey (Book 1): Fade to Grey Page 43
