Voice in the Wilderness, page 15
part #1 of Against All Enemies Series
Still holding KC’s hand, Brock turned and walked toward Craig.
“Daniels, what’s with you two?” Craig moved his hands to his hips. “We have urgent business to discuss and you’re … well, look at you.”
Brock needed to change the subject.
A body dressed in SWAT team gear lay on the front lawn, while two Rangers worked on him.
Brock pointed at the downed SWAT team member. “It looks like someone got hurt. Are they giving him CPR?”
“Yeah, CPR. He really needed a defibrillator. But they’re too heavy to carry.” Craig glanced at the man on the ground. “His heart went wacko. Almost stopped.”
“Where did you find him?” KC's voice dropped to her soft alto—feminine and alluring.
Just thinking about her voice in those terms told Brock he was still a distracted fool.
Craig motioned toward the corner of the garage. “We found him near the bushes on the garage side of the house. You know what happened to him?”
“I know he got hit in the chest by a two-pound rock going a 100 miles an hour. I also know Brock could've pitched in the majors.”
“He's coming around.” The man administering CPR stood.
Craig pointed a finger at Brock. “You attacked a SWAT team member with a rock?”
“Yeah. We needed the gun. Got one too.”
Craig studied Brock’s arms and shoulders. “I thought you were a writer, not a warfighter.”
Brock shrugged. “Back to the subject at hand. Now that you've got them, what are you gonna do with the SWAT team?”
“Daniels … these men aren’t our real enemy. They were just doing their job, following orders.”
“Yeah. Orders to kill KC and me.” Brock wasn’t ready to pardon anyone on the SWAT team after the shots they’d taken at KC and him.
“It's time to …” Craig paused and glanced toward the house. “Can you and I go inside for a moment?”
“Do it, Brock,” KC said. “We need to hear his plan. The longer we stand out here, the more danger we’re in. Somebody’s going to wonder what happened to their SWAT team and will probably pay us a visit to find out.”
Craig studied KC for a moment. “Something tells me you would make a good Ranger.”
KC met Craig’s gaze. “The way things are going, something tells me I might get the chance.” She walked across the lawn to the house and opened the door. “Come on in.”
Just like that, KC had taken over, made the decision, and implemented it. And he had let her. She was beyond smart, had good instincts. Though it scared the heck out of him when she was in danger, he should probably let her lead more than he’d been doing.
Brock followed the two inside, closing the door behind them.
Jeff’s and Allie’s anxious eyes stared back at Brock.
He gestured toward Craig. “Meet Captain Craig, U.S. Army Ranger. Craig, this is Jeff Jacobs and Allie, his wife.”
Jeff shook the man's hand.
Allie simply nodded to him.
“This is quite a crew you've got here. Two beautiful women and two obvious athletes. Wait a minute … Jeff Jacobs.” Craig rubbed his chin, then pointed at Jeff. “Decathlon, 2012 Olympics. Was that you?”
“It was.”
“Two incredible athletes. So, you four, unarmed—well, to start with unarmed—were holding a SWAT team at bay when we arrived?”
KC hooked Brock's arm with hers. “We couldn't have held out much longer with one assault rifle and only two clips.”
“Maybe it's a good thing for the SWAT team you didn't run out of ammo and start throwing rocks again.” Craig gave them his easy-going smile, a smile that exuded confidence and seemed to build it in those around him.
“Craig, you never called us back after you got here. How did you find the house?”
Craig’s smile came again. “It was the only house in the neighborhood with a firefight going on in the back yard.”
KC gave Brock a corner-of-the-eye glance. “Duh.”
“Daniels …” Craig grinned at him. “Do you always let her insult you like that?”
Brock looked at the impish grin on KC’s face. If he could look forward to seeing that face every day, he’d let her do more than insult him. But he wasn’t going to tell Craig that.
Brock shook his head and stuck out a thumb toward the front yard. “So what's the plan for the SWAT team?”
“As I said, the administration’s the enemy, not those guys. But if we can't restrain them, they'll give us a major headache. So, we invoke Operation Spoof.”
Craig was trying Brock’s patience. “That's about the fifth time you mentioned this spoof gig. Would you care to elaborate?”
“Yes.” KC said. “I'm rather curious how you'll dissuade a group of men, armed to the teeth, men with orders to capture or kill Brock and me.”
Craig looked from Brock to KC. “I'm going to tell them the truth, just put a little spin on it, increasing the FUD factor.”
KC frowned at him. “A military acronym? Does that involve some four letter word?”
Brock grinned. “If it does, Craig, she'll slap you silly.”
“Fear is the only four letter word; fear, uncertainty, and doubt—FUD. I'm going to tell them that there's some sort of coup going on in Washington. It's the truth. I'll say the channels of communication have been compromised.”
“I can testify to that,” KC said.
“And I might ask you to. Then we tell them the chain of command is being violated so that we don't know who’s telling us what.”
KC nodded. “That's partially true. But, you know, if any orders are coming from Hannan, we’ll know it because—”
“That's the part I won't tell them. Instead, I’ll get them to agree to obey no orders that jeopardize the lives of American citizens, because that could be enabling the coup. In addition, it's morally and constitutionally wrong. I’ll advise them to sit in a holding pattern until we can make sense out of what's happening. And I’ll tell them to leave Brock Daniels and KC Banning alone.”
KC's twin frown lines deepened. “But I've been declared a terrorist.”
“And according to Hannan, I'm preaching treason,” Brock said, still arm-in-arm with KC.
Craig nodded slowly. “I understand your concerns. If they don't buy the spoof, we’ll let you two talk to them, telling enough of your story to show them that you’re innocent.”
“What if they still don't buy it?” KC pursed her lips.
“I was afraid you would ask that. In that case—”
KC cut him off. “Do I really want to hear this, Craig?”
“Probably not. Let me just say Rangers don't kill innocent Americans, no matter how deceived and misled they are.”
The tension left the muscles in KC's arm. She sighed. “That's all I wanted to know. We can't stoop to Hannan's level.”
“And we won't.” Craig's eyes glanced repeatedly at the door. Obviously, he was anxious to get outside. “But, we will defend ourselves as necessary. With most of the country under martial law, my men, and some others like them, plus you two, could be the USA's last hope. I’ve got a plan that I need to talk to you about, later. But for now, let's go outside and use Operation Spoof to neutralize a SWAT team. And you two stay behind me until I motion you to come alongside.”
Brock slid his hand down KC's arm and took her hand. They followed Captain Craig out the front door.
Immediately, several lights hit them.
Craig stepped off the front porch and stopped. “Daddy-O, what's our status?”
A tall man in tac gear stepped in front of the group. “All accounted for and under control.”
“And the downed ninja?”
“Heart’s beating strong. He'll be fine,” Daddy-O said. “But, sir … the SWAT team’s been getting comms like crazy the last five minutes. Someone wants to know their status.”
“We don't reply,” Craig said, then turned to Brock and KC, motioning for them to come alongside him. “We need to speed this up, because we could soon have another chopper overhead, and I'm pretty sure there won't just be a SWAT team on the next one.”
Brock looked at KC.
Her wide eyes said she understood their growing danger.
“Captain Craig?” Brock leaned close to him. “How fast can you spoof?”
Chapter 22
What in the blazes did Captain Blanchard think he was doing in Central Oregon? He hadn’t sent Hannan any updates since the Oregon Police SWAT team flew off in a chopper more than two hours ago. Were they still waiting for darkness on the West Coast? Had there been problems? Regardless, this growing drama surrounding Ms. Banning, and now Brock Daniels, had dragged on far too long.
The tension in his shoulders and neck had given Hannan a major headache. He leaned back in his chair, trying to relax, and propped his feet up on the Resolute Desk in the Oval office, while concerns about the two people he feared most continued to niggle.
He pulled open the drawer on the left side of the desk and picked up the phone stashed inside. The light indicated it was plugged in. Hannan keyed in the contact number for the commander of his black ops group.
“Captain Blanchard here.”
“President Hannan. What happened to status every hour on the hour, Blanchard?”
“Sorry, sir. But I’ve been waiting too. The SWAT tactical dispatcher has the only direct contact with the team. But, Mr. President, there have been no comms for the past ten minutes.”
He had a bad feeling about this. “Are there any problems?”
“No, sir. No known problems, and we wouldn’t expect comms during the most critical part of the assault, anyway.”
“At what point does 'no comms' become a problem?”
“Sir, if we don't hear anything in the next twenty minutes, I would interpret that as a problem.”
Hannan swore. “How much trouble can it be for a trained SWAT team to apprehend two civilians who probably aren't even armed?”
“One would think it should be a simple operation, sir. Even a barricade situation with a weapon in the house wouldn't—”
“Captain Blanchard …” Hannan cut him off, “If we don't hear something in the next fifteen minutes, I want your team to fly in and end this situation. Use whatever force you deem appropriate to eliminate the threat of those two escaping.”
“Mr. President, ‘whatever force’ includes a transport helicopter with a special forces detachment onboard and a heavily armed Apache helicopter. People on the ground—the Central Oregon SWAT team and the two, uh … perpetrators—could all be killed.”
“If that's what it takes to stop Daniels and Banning, then so be it. This is a serious national security threat. Under no circumstances can we allow those two to escape. Do you understand? Under no circumstances?”
“We understand. I'll relay your orders.”
“And I'll stay on the line until you do.”
Another communication device squawked noise and spit static. “Apache 01, dispatch here. By order of the Commander-In-Chief, if you hear no comms from SWAT team CO in the next 15 minutes—that is by 0020 hours—destroy both targets on the ground, using whatever force deemed necessary.”
Another voice came through the line, weaker and tinnier, after its relay through two microphones. “Apache 01 here, please confirm orders. If dispatch receives no comms by 0020, we are to ensure both targets are destroyed, even if it results in collateral damage, such as—”
“Yes!” Hannan yelled. “Blast it! Use your missiles if necessary. Do you understand?”
“Apache 01 here. Was that the CIC?”
“Dispatch here. Yes, Apache 01. The Commander-In-Chief. Did you copy?”
“Roger. Orders for conditional attack with assured target destruction came through loud and clear.”
Chapter 23
Faint, in the far distance, over the murmur of voices on the front lawn, another sound reached KC's ears, the wop, wop of a helicopter's rotor. She knew Craig needed to win over the SWAT team using Operation Spoof, but if he didn’t hurry, or didn’t succeed on the first try, they could be in a literal world of hurts.
Craig positioned himself at the center of the line of men, the SWAT team seated on the lawn, and the Rangers standing behind them. “I want you to know this, SWAT team members, you have nothing to be ashamed of. There was no way you could have known you were flanked by a group of Rangers. I'm Captain Craig, commander of this detachment of the 75th Ranger Regiment. We're thankful everyone is safe. Now, who's your commander?”
No reply.
“Will the SWAT team commander, IC, or whatever he calls himself, please stand?”
A short, powerfully built man rose. “Deputy Ramirez here. I'm the team leader.” The man stood still, as if at attention, staring at Craig.
“Remove Deputy Ramirez’s restraints.”
The Ranger standing behind Ramirez deftly cut the heavy duty ties from the man’s wrists.
Captain Craig approached Ramirez and extended a hand.
Ramirez studied Craig’s hand for a moment, then shook it. “Craig, you've got some explaining to do. We were sent here by—”
“I know who sent you. But there's something you and your men need to know, as it impacts everything we're doing out here, including the two good citizens standing behind me.”
“Good citizens?” Ramirez spat the words back at Craig. “That's not what we were told.”
“Nor us, Ramirez. But now we understand part of the why. The rest is still a mystery, a very curious and dangerous mystery.”
“What mystery? Our orders, and the reasons behind them, seemed crystal clear.”
“The problem is …” Craig paused. “We don't know who any of our orders are actually coming from.”
“What?” Ramirez's eyes widened.
“As we speak, there's a coup attempt in progress in DC.”
“What the—” Ramirez swore loudly. “A coup? In the USA? And how do you know that?”
KC realized the chopper sounds had grown louder. No aircraft were visible in the half of the horizon she could see, but, the other half … She needed to do something to speed up the spoofing. “Craig …” KC moved alongside him. “We need to hurry here. I hear choppers in the distance.”
“Men, this is KC Banning. She discovered a security breach, including a violation of the chain of command. Instead of kudos from POTUS, it got her branded as a murderer and a domestic terrorist.”
Ramirez pointed at Craig. “But it was the President who declared her a terrorist. Are you saying that Hannan—”
Craig cut in. “Ramirez, I suggest you listen for a moment, before choppers swoop down and open fire on all of us.”
Ramirez stopped his probing questions. “Okay. We're listening.”
Craig gestured toward KC. “You’ve got the floor, Ms. Banning. But don’t keep it too long.”
KC gave the SWAT team a brief summary of the computer and communications breach, as well as the events that followed the murder of Senator Richards and her becoming number one on the FBI's most wanted list. She had to be careful about implicating Hannan. If it seemed unwarranted, it could break the trust that seemed to be growing between them and the SWAT team. “But though it seems like Hannan is involved, we can't be sure. Maybe he doesn't know who to trust either. In the meantime, I've got a suggestion.” KC looked at Craig.
He stared into her eyes, shuffling his feet. As a commander, he wasn’t used to giving up control, and he was probably worried about letting her take the lead at this critical juncture.
Finally, he gave her the open hand, go-ahead signal.
“Until we know who the bad guys really are, I say that we follow one simple principle. Do no harm to innocent American citizens. And we do that no matter who seems to be giving us orders. We must continue doing no harm until we've identified the coup members.”
Ramirez gave her his intense stare, the one previously reserved for Craig. “Which means, for us?”
Brock stepped beside KC and hooked an arm around her waist. “Which means that the SWAT team, the Rangers, KC and I, as well as the other two civilians, are on the same team. If we keep fighting each other, I believe whoever is after KC will kill all the survivors of the fight.”
Another member of the SWAT team rose to his feet. “And why should we believe someone who's been preaching treason?”
Two helicopters came into view near the Cascades to the west. One turned and headed eastward, directly at them.
Brock gestured toward the choppers still several miles away. “There's your reason.”
Craig barked out orders. “Blaine, is that an Apache?”
If KC remembered correctly, Apache helicopters could hold enough armament to blow a small town off the face of the earth. Hopefully, this one wasn't armed to the teeth, but …
“Listen to it.” The man called Blaine paused for a moment. “I'd bet my life it is.”
“We’re all about to bet our lives.” Craig turned to another Ranger. “Steve, get the RPG-7 ready.”
“Sir, are you sure about that? The only way an RPG can stop them in time is—”
“I know, Steve. It's a long shot. No pun intended. But, we’ve got no cover here, so we don’t have a choice.”
Craig turned toward another one of his men. “Dan, give me the laser rangefinder. I need a precise firing distance if we don’t want to become literal toast.”
“Or Swiss cheese,” Daddy-O added.
Craig shot Daddy-O a glance. “I was getting to that … when the pilot sees the laser, he might start firing his M230, hence the Swiss cheese. Our shot needs to get there before that event, Steve.”
“Understand, sir. Needs to arrive at, or near, RPG self-destruct range. That’s 920 meters.”
Craig turned to Brock. “Are there any large boulders nearby?”
“Only one. Around the side of the garage.”
“You and Ms. Banning get behind it, and stay there. Now!” Craig turned back to the man resting a long, strange looking gun on the top of his shoulder. “Steve, I'll give you a ready at 2500 meters and the fire command at 1200. If you believe in prayer, I would suggest you start praying this works.”
