Broken Borders, page 21
He glanced at Ramsey and the deputy, but they were covered with blood.
Bobby ran back to the rear of the cruiser, but they were waiting for him in the house. Every time he tried to move, despite the covering fire from Bo and the others, he was pinned down.
Then, suddenly, “God bless Jonathan Perry,” Bobby thought as he heard the distant giant Chinook approach, and he looked back at it. It was leaning forward and made it to the ranch house in seconds, where it went into a hover, descending slowly, its gargantuan rotor blades producing a dust cloud that enveloped the house and provided the cover for Bobby’s escape.
He hopped into the cruiser, slammed it into low, and floored it, towing the other cruiser backward down the driveway. He flew past the other two cruisers, who withdrew, and just kept going, shifting up into drive. Three fourths of the way to the road, he slammed on his brakes, and the other cruiser struck the back of Bobby’s cruiser and stopped.
The Chinook was already almost overhead, ready to land, and Bo and the other cruisers pulled up, backing down the driveway at high speed. Bo jumped out and Bobby ran up slamming Ramsey’s driver’s door. Signaling Bo to get in her cruiser, he ran back to his own cruiser and hopped in.
The giant Chinook came overhead and went into a hover, sand-blasting the cruisers with dust and sand as it set down. The ramp opened, and the general, carrying a CAR-15, led the paramedic out and over to the cruiser, where Bobby and Bo met them. When Bobby opened the door, they saw the real damage. The paramedic reached in to feel for pulses only as a formality, already shaking his head, “No.” Both officers had had their heads literally shredded by bullets.
Bo shrieked and started crying. Bobby held her protectively. She bawled, and Bobby made a face at the general, who shook his head.
Bobby explained over the rotor sound, “They had become very close already.”
The general walked over and grabbed Bo’s shoulders and in a fatherly way, escorted her into the Chinook.
Bobby looked at the paramedic, saying, “Their bodies are safe here for now. It is not worth risking more lives. Get the Chinook out of here now.”
Bobby signaled the other cops to leave with him, as he detached the chain and spun around. The ramp went up on the Chinook, and it lifted off.
Bobby figured the general had already called the command post, as he heard many sirens approaching, and then saw the vehicles. They reestablished their command post at the end of the driveway. The Chinook set down on the other side of the CP. A trailer was brought in from the Texas Rangers to be used as a mobile command post.
General Perry’s aide walked over to him, saying, “General, it is the commander in chief.”
Perry whispered, “Personally?”
The aide mouthed the words “Yes, sir.”
The general took the sat phone, saying, “Hello, Mr. President, Jon Perry here, sir.”
The President said, “If I end up with another Waco, I will personally kick your ass into the Gulf of Mexico, General. And if I ever hear of the chief of staff of the U.S. Army grabbing an M-16 and combat-assaulting in to help out a major with automatic-weapons fire going on, I will shove my foot straight up your ass. Are you crazy, Jon, or just can’t help always being a hero?”
“Yes, sir,” the general replied, “I will certainly relay your well wishes to the people.”
The President said, “Jon, you are something else. Please do not let our country down. Make this work out.”
“Not a problem, Mr. President,” he said gravely. “I will pass on your feelings verbatim.”
General Perry hung up and called everyone around him.
He said, “Ladies and gentlemen. That was the President of the United States. He said those terrorists in there may have two nuclear bombs and we have to be so careful and professional how we handle this, but the whole nation is behind us, and he is behind us and knows we will all handle this menace.”
People seemed impressed.
Bobby took Bo off to the side.
She said, “I know we have to get through this mission. I am sorry I got emotional.”
“Nonsense,” Bobby said, “I saw you and Ramsey had some chemistry going, and . . .”
She interrupted, “Bobby, he and I became friends, that’s all.”
Bobby said, “Yeah, but I could tell you both were attracted to each other.”
She stopped him again, saying, “Bobby Samuels. We did not. Ramsey was gay. He had a major crush on you, but would never tell you.”
“What?”
Bo said, “Look, we became friends, and he told me that in the strictest confidence. He said he was a professional FBI agent and would never jeopardize his career or insult you by mentioning anything at all, but he joked with me about fantasizing about you.”
“Holy cow,” Bobby replied in an uncharacteristically soft response.
He sat down as if his legs gave out from under him. Bobby wanted to cry, he was so embarrassed and furious with himself for all the jealous rages over Bo.
Bobby Samuels gave Bo a reassuring hug and walked away. They had to get back to work, and he could not afford to be shook up now. Bo could not either.
Bo yelled, “What are you doing?”
He said, “My job! We cannot afford to let down right now, girl.”
She gave him the thumbs-up and said, “Rog-O!”
Bobby went to General Perry and said, “Sir, can you give me a quick brief on the Batman or Jimmy Jet getup, whatever it is?”
The chief of staff said, “Stealth wings. Yeah, who is going with you, son?”
Bobby said, “I can do better alone on this, sir.”
General Perry said, “I had the same thoughts about sneaking in from on high, but you will not go alone.”
“Yes, sir,” Samuels said, “but nobody can go in with me. You are the only guy here besides me who is HALO-QUALIFIED.”
“Captain Bo Devore,” the general said, “is an expert sports parachutist, and you know it. You’re trying to protect her, aren’t you, Bobby?”
“Sir, with all due respect to Major Samuels,” Bo said, walking up from behind Bobby, “I do not need protecting. I’m a big girl, sir. Major Samuels already put himself in the line of fire today without me. If he wants to do it again, I need to concern myself with my O.E.R. (Officer Efficiency Report) or worry about sexual discrimination.”
“Now hold on, Captain,“Bobby said, turning, and saw a big grin on her face.
He laughed and pretended like he was going to punch her, and she scrunched her shoulders and laughed.
“Okay, you two clowns,” the old man said. “If you are going to get yourselves killed, at least I have to train you so you can do it. Come on into the Chinook.”
An hour later, Bobby and Bo emerged from the big chopper, briefed, fitted with weapons, night-vision devices, high-altitude suits, oxygen bottles and masks, parafoils, and their new experimental flight wings. The Chinook started to rev up, so the engines could warm up. It would do this for close to a half an hour before the two took off.
When the big helicopter took off, Ramiro followed its flight with high-powered binoculars until its flashing lights disappeared from sight. It clearly was heading toward Biggs Airfield.
Bobby and Bo were at twenty-three grand and twenty-three miles away when they exited the chopper wearing O2 and night-eyes. They tracked back toward the command post traveling in excess of two hundred miles per hour. Bobby and Bo were both amazed at these experimental wings. Their target was the flat roof of the attached adobe barn. There was a wall around the top that they could use for cover, plus it was away from the CP, so it would not be watched the same way the driveway was watched.
General Perry called the President back. His secretary put the chief executive on immediately.
“Sir,” Jonathan said, “I apologize for calling you personally and for breaching the chain of command, but this is—”
The President interrupted. “Jon, you are doing the right thing. What do you need?”
Perry said, “Sir, I know how bad it is to use troops in civilian operations, but I have had the First Special Forces Operational Detachment Delta on standby, and would like to bring them in as backup to our current operation, or even complement it.”
“Jon, our nation is faced with a nuclear threat on our soil,” the President of the United States said gravely. “I trust your judgment and will back whatever play you make. Just eliminate the threat. Our citizens do not know about this, but they are counting on you nonetheless. Bring Delta Force in as you wish and let them kick ass and take names, and call me day or night, just use secure phone.”
“Of course, sir, thank you,” Perry said.
The President replied, “We’re praying for you. Good luck.”
The general made a quick call on his sat phone.
He said, “This is General Perry. This is a secure line. Crank up the jet and send Delta Force. Make sure they have parafoils, night vision, and O2. I want them jumping in tonight. I’ll brief the CO while they are en route, and I want them locked and loaded.”
“Roger,” the other person said, “out.”
The Delta Force, no longer housed in the old Fort Bragg Stockade, but now in a new state-of-the-art facility, was already on the jet on the tarmac and the turbines of the jet had been spinning for some time.
In less than ten minutes, Bobby and Bo were “on target” and opened their chutes, jettisoning the gliders out over the dry prairie below. The night was clear, still, and dry. If they were spotted, they would fight and the task force would come in like the cavalry. If not discovered, they would use stealth to work their way into position to place cameras and microphones through the roof and walls.
Both had taken off their oxygen long before, and they kept their eyes glued to the windows facing the barn. They also wore earpieces and had constant reports from the two FBI agents out on the hill.
They came in, popped their risers, and set down like an athletic duck on a small goldfish pond. Immediately, they collapsed their chutes and lay side by side on the roof of the barn for a full ten minutes before moving at all.
Now, they were up on their knees, weapons in hand. When they were getting ready for the mission, General Perry had opened his briefcase and produced a semiautomatic pistol with a very long barrel, almost seven inches long, in fact. The very end of the barrel was threaded, and the general also handed Bobby a long metal tube.
“Ever use one of these, son?” Perry asked.
“Yes, sir, thank you. This will be very helpful, General,” Bobby replied.
General Perry said, “Probably do not want the press to get a picture of it. Been a great SF weapon for years, the whole time I’ve been in SF, in fact.”
Bobby cleared the weapon, then screwed the silencer onto the end of it. He admired it and checked the ten-round magazine. It was a High Standard HDM, a modified target pistol equipped with an integral sound suppressor, but the general had added an even more effective silencer to the end of it, so when fired it made about the same sound as an air rifle, if that much. Originally adopted by the Office of Strategic Services (OSS) during World War II, the pistol is still found in U.S. inventories, including those of the CIA, U.S. Army Special Forces, and other Special Ops commands. It is ideal for assassinations and is loaded with full-metal-jacketed .22 LR rounds. In fact, instead of the standard issue, the general had loaded his with CCI .22 long-rifle copper-jacketed hollow-point mini-mags.
According to the military, the technical description is: “The High Standard HDM is a conventional blowbackoperated semiautomatic pistol fitted with an integral suppressor decreasing its report in excess of twenty dB. This pistol design was originally delivered 20 January 1944, and original contract models were blued with a Parkerized (phosphate) finish on the suppressor. Follow-on models were completely Parkerized. Post-World War II models produced for the CIA were also blued. The ten-round box magazine was interchangeable with that of the Colt Woodsman. The weapon has a frame-mounted safety lever on the left in a similar position to the M1911A1 and Browning HiPower. The front sight is a fixed blade with a square notch rear sight adjustable for elevation and windage zero.”
Jonathan Perry, however, had made a few changes. Because it would often be used at night, he added a Meprolight M21 reflex sight, which used laser optics for daylight shooting and tritium at night, so no batteries were required but the shooter could essentially point, stick the dot on the target, and shoot. He was going to add a laser sight, but felt it could more easily give away the shooter’s position if spotted.
Bobby would be able to pop any of the bad guys with very little noise if they got spotted.
Bobby reached into his black nylon backpack and pulled out two pairs of large black boot socks and a roll of army OD tape. He handed Bo one pair and put his own on over his black tactical boots, then held the tops of the socks in place by wrapping several wraps of army OD tape (olive-drab duct tape) around the tops of the socks. Bo smiled and followed suit. When they stood and started to walk, there was virtually no noise from their feet. Bo smiled at him and pointed at his head, indicating he was really smart.
In actuality, Bobby had learned that trick from a Vietnam veteran, a former Green Beret officer who had served with his father in Vietnam. The guy, named Don Bendell, lived in Colorado and had become an author. He had bow-hunted since early childhood, and been a licensed big-game guide and outfitter in the mid-eighties in Colorado. Bobby was amazed at how good and young the man looked for his age, and hoped he could like that good when he got older.
They stopped at one spot on the roof, and could see the light from two windows on the interior yard, with the movement of shadows in each frame of light.
Bobby knelt down, while Bo maintained watch, and he took a small cordless, silent tactical drill from his pack. He carefully seated a very long industrial-diamond drill bit into the drill and tightened it. He drilled quickly down through the roof, and slowly through the layers of insulation and then the ceiling. This last part took many minutes of stop-and-go patience. With a hole through the ceiling of the room within, Bobby inserted a miniature tactical video camera and microphone, which immediately transmitted audio and video to the mobile command post. Bobby used the flexible metal tubing to move the camera around the room and see all who were within. In the corner, seated and looking very peaceful, was Dr. Frankiln Otis Rabbe, with his throat slit and his tongue pulled out through the slash. The blood was all dried, so he had been dead for hours. With perverted humor, Ramiro had crossed the man’s legs and put a drink in his hand, which was now rigid with rigor mortis, fingers wrapped tightly around the piece of crystal.
Bobby then placed a small box over the tube. This contained a miniature motor, which would move the camera and mike around when activated by a toggle switch in the mobile command post. For the next two hours, Bobby repeated this operation in various spots of the ranch house roof. Now, the officers in the mobile command post could see all the terrorists and keep them under surveillance. Perry had them do a scrambled satellite uplink to the Defense intelligence Agency, where Portuguese and Arabic translators sat waiting to translate anything mentioned in native tongues by the Brazilian and Arabic terrorists. Spanish translators were not needed since there were so many in the command post from several different agencies.
Bobby and Bo decided to take turns sleeping, waiting a few hours until the breach. Bo stayed awake first and allowed Bobby to set his head on her lap, while she sat with her back against the lip on the back of the house.
Because there was moonlight, General Perry had Delta Force jump out past the command post, and they walked a mile carrying their chutes in aviator kit bags. A breaching plan was made to insert Delta Operators as well as a couple of very experienced Texas Rangers who were SWAT specialists.
After one hour, Bobby and Bo switched positions. Within minutes, she was asleep with her head on his lap. He looked down at his partner and smiled, seeing the beginnings of bruises high on her neck, and a few scratches and marks. The woman was incredibly beautiful, he thought, but was still the original American badass, and he would want nobody else in a situation like this. She was the best partner he could imagine having. Bobby wondered if she had been raped during her ordeal with Ramiro. He flamed up again thinking about the possibility, and thinking how angry he would be if that were the case. They had not even had time to discuss it.
Finally, after she had been asleep about forty-five minutes, Bobby awakened her. He had been briefed. He turned his head, while she squatted on the roof and relieved her bladder. Then she turned hers as he, chuckling to himself, stood at the roof and peed on the roof of Ramiro’s stolen car.
The operation had been very carefully planned because they thought that there were two backpack nuclear bombs inside. Bobby and Bo watched with their night-vision devices while the members of Delta and the Texas Rangers came across the prairie from the direction of the hilltop where the agents were. At the end of the driveway, they saw men getting into cruisers, but all lights were off.
The army had supplied everyone there with night-vision capability. Out on the road, a car with no light moved slowly down the road.
Bobby and Bo put on black nylon rappelling harness seats from his backpack. They affixed nylon ropes to the air vent coming from the roof, and tossed them over the side. The Delta Breach team came silently over the adobe walls in back and took their places at doors and windows around the house.
The on-site commander was the Delta Team commander, and all heard him speak into his mike. “Do not forget. We cannot afford a nuke going off. Double taps in the forehead, everybody.”
