“You in this or not?” Pat asked him. “We aren’t playing around here. They’ve murdered millions of citizens. They’ll kill everybody we love if we don’t defeat them. Do you understand?”

  “Okay, you’re right,” Derrick said. “Yeah, I know where that is.”

  “He got kids or anything?”

  “Lives alone, from what I’ve heard,” Derrick said. “Let’s go.”

  They picked up their weapons, Pat wiping her arrow off on Jerry’s shirt. “Think he has any weapons worth keeping, or any data?”

  “Let’s check the trailer, and grab his laptop on the way out,” Derrick said.

  ***

  Devin Shul was sitting at the workbench in his Boston garage, cleaning his M4 and his pistol. There were six stinger missiles leaned up against the back wall, the launcher sitting on the floor in front of them. Three mortars and a crate of rounds sat next to those. His phone rang. He punched the speaker button. “Yeah, Elliot, what’s up?”

  “Frank, Eric, and Bradley have all been attacked at home,” Elliot said, out of breath. “I’m watching from the woods behind my yard. There are UN creeps ransacking my house now.”

  “Son of a bitch, did somebody talk?”

  “I doubt it,” Elliot said. “You’d better get out of there.”

  “How’d you find out?”

  “Bradley called me. We were on the phone when he got shot.”

  “Dammit,” Devin said, going to the window of his garage, peering out, not seeing anybody. “Nobody here yet. Where are you going?”

  “I’m leaving in the Class B,” he said. “I’ve been keeping it stocked. Want to join me? Sleeps four.”

  “Yeah, I’ll be in touch. Better get my weapons together. Thanks for the heads up.”

  “You got it, man,” he said.

  Devin slipped the phone in his pocket, loading the magazine into his pistol, then putting the M4 back together and loading that, twisting on the suppressor. He slipped out the back door of his garage, walking behind bushes in his backyard planters, going towards the house in a crouch. He heard car doors. Shit.

  “Quiet, Carl,” whispered a man in a British accent. “This one has special forces training. He’s the one with the Stinger missiles.”

  Devin listened as the two men walked to the front of the house, hearing the tinkling of glass, the front door opening. There was a growl and a snarl, and a man screamed, Devin rushing through the back door, shooting one of the men as the other struggled with his pit bull Max, the huge head around the commando’s arm as he tried to aim his gun, Devin squeezing off another round, a quiet click going off as the Peacekeeper’s head splattered blood all over his living room wall.

  “Max, he’s dead already,” Devin said, looking out the front door, then closing it, looking at the other man, not yet dead, trying to crawl for his weapon. “Max, attack.”

  The big pit bull rushed to the other commando, grabbing his outstretched arm in those massive jaws, the man screaming in pain.

  “Call him off, dammit,” the man screamed. “Pepe!”

  “Sorry, Carl. Pepe’s brains are all over my walls over there. Who sent you?” He reached down, grabbing Carl’s FN assault rifle, then pulling his pistol out of the holster on his hip, Max still snarling, tightening his grip, the man screaming. “I asked you a question, Eurotrash.”

  “Shove it.”

  “Max, other arm.”

  The dog let go, moving to the man’s other arm, grabbing hold, biting down hard, the man screaming bloody murder.

  “Who sent you, Carl?”

  “Call him off.”

  “I will, if you’ll tell me,” Devin said.

  “Okay.”

  “Max, sit.”

  The dog stopped immediately, backing up a foot or two and sitting, staring at the man.

  “Who sent you?”

  “Captain Sturm. He’s in Manhattan.”

  “Heard of him. How’d you find out about us?”

  “Facial recognition from citizen video at the store attack,” the man said.

  “Where’s the UN base?”

  “I can’t tell you that.”

  “Max, leg.”

  The dog leapt into action, grabbing Carl by the calf, causing him to scream with pain again.

  “Stop, this is barbaric,” Carl yelled as the dog snarled.

  “You were gonna murder innocent civilians at that store, and by the way, you also lit off nukes all over the place. I think I’ll ignore your complaints.”

  “We didn’t do that.”

  Devin burst out laughing. “Maybe I’ll have Max break your arm. He knows how.”

  “Stop. Okay, the team is working out of the abandoned State Police headquarters. Newton. You know it?”

  “Yeah, only one of those. Max, sit.”

  The dog let go of the man’s leg and sat, licking his chops.

  “Call me a doctor,” the man said.

  “No, I don’t have time, if I’m gonna go ruin your base. Max, throat.”

  The dog grabbed the man’s throat, the Peacekeeper only getting off a short scream.

  “Let’s go, Max,” Devin said. They went out into the front yard. “Max, guard.”

  A big, brawny man came over from next door. “What the hell just happened over here?”

  “Hey, Chuck,” Devin said. “UN Peacekeepers, came over to kill me. Got a few of us.”

  “Need help carving them up?” he asked, glee on his face.

  “Nope, but you can help us attack their base if you want. It’s at the old State Police headquarters.”

  “When you going?”

  “As soon as I can load my weapons into this nice UN van they just gave me,” Devin said.

  “I’ll grab the M60.”

  “Christy gonna be okay with this?”

  “She was pissed when I went to the Superstore, until she saw what they tried to do. She’s a good shot, maybe we ought to bring her.”

  “Your call, dude,” Devin said, opening the door of the van. The keys were in it. “These idiots always leave their keys in the ignition. Must be a European thing.”

  “It’s a moron thing,” Chuck quipped. “I’ll go talk to her.”

  Devin nodded, getting into the van, starting it, driving up his driveway to the garage door, then getting out, calling Max back there. He loaded the rest of his firearms, ammo, the Stinger missiles and launcher, and the mortars and rounds. Christy, a short, stout blonde woman with tattoos came over with Chuck, cigarette hanging out of her mouth. She carried the two M4s, Chuck carrying the M60, a few belts of ammo around his shoulders.

  “You ain’t coming back, are you?” Christy asked when she saw the back of the van full of weapons and ammo.

  “Nope, they’ll be on this location like white on rice,” Devin said. “They might come after you guys if you go along on this operation, you know.”

  “This is as good a time to jump rent as any, I guess,” Christy said, breaking into a rather unattractive horse laugh, Chuck shaking his head.

  Devin got behind the wheel. “Max, let’s go.”

  The dog ran over, jumping into the van, Chuck closing the door. They backed down the driveway.

  “Hey Chuck, call the others,” Devin said. “Frank, Eric, and Bradley all got iced.”

  “Dammit,” Chuck said, pulling out his phone, starting to make calls as they took off down the highway.

  { 11 }

  Turnpike Attack

  D errick was driving on Joshua Road, almost to Major Clinton’s place. “Here’s Flourtown Road.” He turned down it, driving past the Clinton’s house, his car in the driveway. “Well, he’s home, but this is a bad place to assault. Nearby houses with no bushes or fencing. We’ll be seen.”

  Pat watched as they went by. “Think he’d find out about the first guy if we waited for dark?”

  “Hey, I’m gonna make a suggestion, but I’d better not hear you guys calling me a chicken,” Bailey said.

  Pat snickered. “Oh, this is gonna be good.”

  Derrick rolled his eyes. “It’s okay, Bailey. What?”

  “We know where his house is. That might be valuable during an operation against the base. If we just kill him now, they’ll replace him. Valuable statement, I guess, but statements ain’t worth shit.”

  “He’s right,” Pat said. “Let’s go back to base. We’ve made enough of a statement with the first guy.”

  Derrick nodded. “Bailey, you’re smarter than you look.”

  Bailey smiled. “Thanks, I think.”

  “I’m gonna like working with you guys,” Pat said.

  “You’re a tad bit savage, missy,” Derrick said.

  Pat burst out laughing. “Missy? My dad used to call me that.”

  “Gut somebody in front of him, did you?” Derrick asked, shooting her a wicked grin.

  “Naw, he never knew about any of that.” Pat looked at him and stuck out her tongue.

  They got back to base, and told the team what happened.

  “Bailey came up with that idea not to hit Clinton?” Hymie asked.

  “Shut up,” Bailey said, Slate laughing.

  Derrick shook his head. “How’s it coming with the M19s?”

  “This will be easier than I expected,” Rob said. “Can’t wait to get the cars and the armor.”

  “I was thinking about something,” Pat said. “How many of the rank-and-file at your base agree with the UN?”

  Derrick leaned back in his chair. “Actually, most went along with it because they’re afraid of the guy we killed, and Major Clinton. We might be able to turn them to our side if we play our cards right.”

  “What about the 2nd in command that we left alone?” Bailey asked.

  “He’s bad too,” Derrick said. “We’re gonna have to kill him.”

  “You still in communication with any of the rank and file?” Rob asked.

  “I’ve got some numbers,” Derrick said. “Think I ought to risk it?”

  “Get a burner phone, and don’t call from here,” Rob said.

  “Yeah, that’s a good idea,” Hymie said. “I got one, never been activated. I’ll give it to you.”

  “Where does Mister 2nd in command live?” Pat asked. “Someplace good for a hit?”

  “Compared to where Clinton is, yeah. Not as good as where Jerry lived. It’s on West Mill Road at Ensley Drive. Surrounded by bushes and hedges, so it’s not visible from nearby houses. Other houses are close by, though.”

  “What’s his name?” Hymie asked.

  “John Sibelius,” Derrick said, grabbing his laptop.

  “How about at night?” Pat asked. “Might be good to hit him before we try to use Clinton.”

  “Hell, Clinton might flee if we do that,” Bailey said. “He’s gonna know about the first guy by then.”

  “True, but it might not matter,” Derrick said. “Let’s pull up the GPS maps on my laptop.” The others gathered around as Derrick logged on, going to the map program, finding the Sibelius house. “There.”

  “Lots of cover,” Pat said. “He got any big dogs?”

  “Not that I saw when I was there for a barbeque,” Derrick said. “Fancies himself a gentleman farmer and environmentalist. He’s got a small windmill, and does organic gardening. Real nature boy.”

  “He’s got guns, though, right?” Bailey asked.

  Derrick chuckled. “He thinks we’re mis-interpreting the Second Amendment. Thinks it’s only for states’ rights. State militias, and so on.”

  Rob chuckled. “How does he explain the language, or the fact that every other item in the Bill of Rights is an expression of INDIVIDUAL rights, I wonder?”

  “I didn’t say he was smart,” Derrick said. “He’s not a tactical or strategic thinker. He’s all about organization and discipline and enforcement, which is why most of the rank and file at the base are scared of him. Jerry and the CO do the military strategy.”

  “What there is of it,” Slate said.

  “Don’t underestimate these guys, they’re not as stupid as the morons who tried to attack the Superstore in Boston. There was nothing wrong with their attack on Pat at the river, and there are more checkpoints live in Philly than there are in Boston. We have to assume Sibelius has some weapons at the house.”

  “He’s gonna be watching, you know,” Hymie said, “after the hit on Jerry.”

  “He will be,” Derrick said. “The fact that Jerry and his woman were killed with arrows is gonna give him pause. He’ll be expecting a commando raid using silent weapons.”

  “Is there a UN commander at the base?” Pat asked.

  “Nope, but they were visiting often before I split. Part of the reason I left.”

  “If we hit both these guys, the UN will rush in to protect those choppers,” Rob said. “You know that.”

  Pat thought about it for a moment. “Might be good if they do, provided Derrick can make contact with the rank and file and convince them to fight with us.”

  Hymie smiled. “If the rank and file fight the UN when they show up, we’ll know they’re on our side.”

  “Exactly,” Pat said.

  “What’s the chances the rank and file know where the UN base is?” Bailey asked. “If they know, after we stop the UN from taking over, we go splatter their bases with the choppers and our forces.”

  “Genius idea,” Hymie said.

  “Quit making fun of me, dammit,” Bailey said.

  “Hey, I’m not,” Hymie said. “Brilliant idea, and it’ll get the Philly Resistance off to a great start. The Broadstreet Boomers need some allies. This will get us well on the road to that.”

  “Give me that burner phone,” Derrick said. “I’ll go someplace and start making calls.”

  ***

  Cary came into the intel room. Albena sat there alone, working on her PC. “Did Dannon and Dempsey leave?”

  “No, they went to have a snack with Penko,” Albena said, not looking away from her screen.

  “What are you doing?”

  Albena glanced over at him. “Putting together a matrix of the Islamist locations that I can update once every half hour,” she said. “I’ve developed a download from the PC app that has the GPS location of each hit. We’ll have an auto-update running in a few hours, if I can solve a couple of problems.”

  Cary sat next to her. “That will allow us to track their movements.”

  “It should.”

  Penko came in, Dempsey and Dannon following.

  “Good, glad you’re still here,” Cary said. “We’ve designed the retrofit of Falcon drones to handle roach pods and still carry half their missile capacity. We need a smaller target to try our strategy out, though. I think we got a good place.”

  Dannon smiled. “I’m listening.”

  Cary got on one of the PCs and logged onto the new app, going to the location. “This location has a hundred and eight RFID hits, and it’s a single complex.”

  Dannon and Dempsey looked over his shoulders at the screen.

  “These three connected buildings, on the corner of 2nd Avenue and 106th Street. Old style, not huge, gonna have good roof access, and there are lots of windows. Basement only one level below ground floor, no underground parking, windows into the basement at sidewalk level. We can turn that complex into a funeral pyre with ease.”

  “Won’t there be Islamists guarding the roofs? They’ll see the pods open up.”

  “That’s why we wanted Falcon drones that have both the pods and half their missile capacity,” Cary said. “It was Hector’s idea. Fly the Falcons in, kill whoever is on the roof with missiles, then release the roach drones. Of course the doors are gonna open fast, so the roaches should have easy access through the confusion.”

  “They’re gonna get wise,” Dempsey said. “Aren’t they?”

  “We’re gonna attack the roofs of a few other buildings at the same time,” Cary said. “They’ll think that’s as far as it goes.”

  “Are we leaving roach drones at all the locations we hit?” Dannon asked.

  “Yeah, but we’ll only use the missiles on this location,” Cary said. “We’ll gather intel at the other location. None of the buildings at the other location will be easy to hit with missiles.”

  “The enemy will learn from this,” Dannon said, “but it’ll still be worth it. When?”

  “Tomorrow night,” Cary said. “That gives us enough time to retrofit the Falcon drones and get them placed close enough by.”

  “Let us know how we can help,” Dannon said.

  ***

  Sturm paced the main room at the hideout, an ice pack around his left forearm. Claude came in.

  “Over do the shooting a little?” he asked.

  Sturm nodded, not looking at him.

  “That raid went badly?”

  He sighed, going to the coffee machine, brewing himself a cup. “We killed three resistance fighters, but one of them passed the word to the others. Two of our operatives are missing. Drury is looking for the bodies.”

  “You knew this was going to be a battle,” Claude said.

  “I expected to get more than three. I expected we’d run into trouble after the first eight or so. More of these people had skills than I expected.”

  Claude watched Sturm pull his coffee off the maker, then brewed a cup for himself. They both sat down at the table.

  “So you thought most of them would be normal civilians?”

  “I thought it would be a mixture, at least.” His phone rang. He answered it, pushing the speaker button.

  “Captain Sturm?” asked a man with an English accent.

  “Captain Drury,” Sturm replied. “You’re on speaker, Claude is in here. Speak freely, I’m using him as an adviser.”

  “Okay, mate,” he said. “How are you, Claude? Been a while.”

  “I’m good, thanks. You?”

  “Better now that I’ve got something to do,” Drury replied. “I found Carl and Pepe.”

  “Dead?”

  “Yeah. Pepe’s head was splattered all over the wall. He had a better time of it than Carl, though.”

  “What happened to Carl?”

  “Looks like a big dog ripped his throat open, and he had bites on both arms and one leg also. Blood all over the place. I almost blew chunks.”

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22