Net Force Part 31

Sat.u.r.day, October 9th, 11:28 p.m. Urus-Martan "They got him!" Fernandez said. "They are en route, ETA twenty minutes."

The men in the room cheered. Howard let them, then said, "All right, let's not get ahead of ourselves. Get the birds on-line. We'll celebrate when we're back on our own soil."

Ten minutes later, Howard was outside in the dark, watching the pilots preflight the copters, when Fernandez came out of the farmhouse double-time.

"Sir, we have a slight problem."

Howard felt his belly lurch and fill with several hundred b.u.t.terflies who all wanted out, now. "What?"

"Our squad's ride just broke down. Squad Leader Captain Marcus says he thinks it blew a head gasket."

Howard stared at him. The truck truck broke down? That wasn't even broke down? That wasn't even in in the scenario! Jesus Christ! the scenario! Jesus Christ!

Sunday, October 10th, 12:04 a.m. Urus-Martan "Where are they?" Howard asked.

TCS-op Jeter was all business now, nothing funny in his voice. "Sir, GPS puts them in the city, south of the old Tets Komintern, in the new Visok Stal Oil Storage Area, close to the Sunzha River."

"How far from here?"

"A long walk with a reluctant prisoner in tow, sir. I make it eighteen kilometers."

"Wonderful."

"Uh-oh. We've got incoming vox transmission. I'm unscrambling." Jeter tapped keys.

If the squad leader was willing to break radio silence, even with a coded transmission, that meant things either had gone, or were about to go, right to h.e.l.l.

"Wolf Pack, this is Cub Omega One, do you copy?"

"This is Alpha Wolf, Cub. Go ahead."

"Sir, we're broken down in the middle of a giant oil-tank farm and we've got two security officers a hundred meters away, approaching us on bicycles bicycles."

Bike cops. Great. "Follow planned procedure, Omega One. Smile politely and wave your doc.u.ments, they will pa.s.s muster."

"Yes, sir--oh, s.h.i.t s.h.i.t!"

"Say again, Cub Omega One?"

The captain's voice came back, but he wasn't talking to Howard: "Somebody shut him the h.e.l.l up!"

"Omega One, report!"

There was a dead silence that stretched long.

"Cub Omega One, reply."

"Ah, Alpha, we have a, uh . . . situation situation here. Our pa.s.senger started screaming b.l.o.o.d.y murder and these stupid d.a.m.ned cops just up and here. Our pa.s.senger started screaming b.l.o.o.d.y murder and these stupid d.a.m.ned cops just up and opened fire opened fire!"

Next to Howard, Fernandez said, "Jesus, what kind of trigger-happy b.a.s.t.a.r.ds are they? They can't know who they're dealing with."

"Alpha, we have returned fire, repeat, we have returned fire. Omega Cubs are all uninjured, say again, no injuries our squad, but we have one local down and the other has--has--" Proper report terminology failed him. "Has hauled a.s.s behind a big f.u.c.king oil tank, sir. Stand by. Barnes and Powell, flank right, Jessel, left, go, go!"

Howard waited for what seemed like another couple of thousand years. He exchanged glances with Fernandez.

Captain Marcus came back on-line. "Sir, the downed local is . . . ah, defunct. He had a belt phone, and we have to a.s.sume the other one also carries communication gear, but we lost him. I would guess that we are going to have unfriendly company soon, Alpha. Please advise."

Howard looked at Fernandez. There was no choice. n.o.body was leaving anybody out here. "Bag it up, troops! We lift in three minutes!"

To the squad leader waiting on the other end of the scrambled comline, Howard said, "Stand fast, Omega. The pack is on the way."

"Copy that, Alpha. Thank you, sir."

"Let's go, Julio."

"Yes, sir!"

Howard and Fernandez ran for the helicopters.

Sat.u.r.day, October 9th, 4:10 p.m. Quantico Michaels and Toni were in the small conference room, working on their second pot of coffee. As the doctor had predicted, Michaels was a lot more sore than he had been right after he'd been shot. It hurt to move, it hurt to stand still, it hurt to sit. He'd taken pills at home, to sleep, but he wanted to stay sharp while Howard's operation was in progress. He had finally popped a couple of the pain tabs from their plastic-and-foil blisters, and washed them down with his fifth or sixth cup of coffee an hour or so ago, and the sharp stabbing pain had faded to a more-bearable dull dull stabbing pain. And despite all the coffee, he felt relatively mellow. stabbing pain. And despite all the coffee, he felt relatively mellow.

"How's your arm?" he asked Toni.

"It was a nice clean cut. It doesn't hurt much," she said, "but it itches."

He had thanked her after it had happened, but he'd had plenty of time to think about it since. "You saved my life in that locker room," he said. "If you hadn't jumped that woman, she would have killed me."

"Rusty saved us both. I'd never gotten to her if he hadn't come in and started yelling. Holding an ink pen and pretending it was a gun." She shook her head.

"I'm really sorry about Agent Russell," he said. "I knew you were teaching him your fighting art. Were you, uh, close?"

She hesitated for a moment. "Not really, no." She stared into her coffee cup. "His parents are having the body flown back to Jackson, Mississippi, for the funeral and burial. That's where he was from. They seem like nice people. I'd like to go, if that's all right. It's in a couple of days."

"Sure. After we get though all this--if we get through it--I wonder if I might get you to show me some of what you do--the silat silat?"

She looked up from her coffee.

"Lately, I don't know why, I've kind of felt the need to know a little more about self-defense."

He smiled, and she matched his expression.

"I'd be happy to show you."

"Might take a few weeks for me to stop gimping around." He touched his bandaged leg.

"I'll wait."

He sipped at the coffee, then decided if he had anymore, he was going to have to have a bladder transplant. He put the cup down. "I wonder how it's going. They are supposed to be done about now."

"I'm sure they'll call as soon as they can."

"I'm sure. And I am confident that Colonel Howard will execute his mission."

She smiled again.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing. I was just remembering something from a long time ago."

"Yeah?"

"Between my junior and senior year at John Jay, I moved to an apartment with two other students. My brother Tony had lost his job, so his wife and two kids moved in with my parents while he went to Maine to find work. Things were a little crowded at home. We lucked into a rent-controlled place that actually had heat and and windows that would open. Building is probably a parking lot by now, but it was perfect for three girls away from home for the first time. windows that would open. Building is probably a parking lot by now, but it was perfect for three girls away from home for the first time.

"Anyway, one of my roomies was an Eye-tie like me, that was Mary Louise Bergamo, from Philadelphia; the other was a tall, lanky black woman from Texas, a volleyball player, Dirisha Mae Jones. She was the funniest person I ever met. She was always coming up with these little homespun homilies she'd gotten from somewhere. One night we were drinking cheap wine and making a lot of noise and she defined 'confident' for us.

" 'Well, girls, listen here. There's this black man, name of Ernest, who is married to this here beauuutiful woman, Loretta, but Loretta is gone up and leave him 'cause Ernest got fired from his job--even though it wasn't no fault of his own.' "

Michaels grinned. Her imitation of her friend's Texas accent was pretty good.

Toni continued: " 'So Ernest gets up one morning and puts on his best tie and his only white shirt and his Sunday-go-to-meeting pants, and leaves the house to go to this job interview. Ernest knows he don't get this job, his woman is gone leave him. He also know the good old boy doing the hirin' don't particularly care care for men of color, so he got to be sharp. for men of color, so he got to be sharp.

" 'By now, though, it's lunchtime. On the way to the interview, Ernest stops at Rick's Pit Barbecue, where he orders a double helping of pork ribs and a beer to wash 'em down. So while he's waiting for Rick's boy James to dish up the ribs--which are drenched in about half a gallon of hot, greasy barbecue sauce, and which are the absolute best ribs anywhere in East Texas, and pretty much in Central or West Texas, too, and that's sayin sayin' something--while he's waitin', Ernest walks on over to the phone and calls up Loretta. Says to her, "Honey, shake out your blue dress--we gone go out dancin' tonight to celebrate my new job."

" 'Now, a man that eats ribs wearing a white shirt he knows knows got to stay clean, got to stay clean, that's that's a confident man, girls.' " a confident man, girls.' "

Michaels laughed.

"I like seeing you do that, Alex. Laugh. You don't do it enough."

Michaels felt a little stab of something through the pain medication. Something in her voice. She liked him. It made him feel a little uncomfortable, but not too too uncomfortable. "There have been better times for it. So, what happened to them? Your roommates?" uncomfortable. "There have been better times for it. So, what happened to them? Your roommates?"

"Mary Louise went to law school--Harvard--then home to go into practice with her father's firm. She was on the team that took the State versus Pennco Housing to the Supreme Court last year and won."

"And the woman from Texas?"

"Dirisha joined the Woman's Pro Volleyball Tour right after she graduated. Played for three years, was on the Nike Team that won the Four Woman Outdoor Championships a couple of times. She retired from the circuit, wrote a book about her adventures, got a job as a sports columnist for The New York Times. The New York Times. Got married a few years ago, had a baby, a boy. Want to guess what she named him?" Got married a few years ago, had a baby, a boy. Want to guess what she named him?"

"Come on."

"Yep. Ernest."

"You're making this up."

She raised her hand, made the scout sign. "Not a word, I swear."

He chuckled again. She was right. He needed to laugh more.

Right now, though, he was a little nervous. Where was Howard? He should have called by now. He looked at his watch.

Even if it all went as smooth as silk on silk, Michaels was going to have to do some fast and fancy dancing to keep Carver from going for his throat when he found out. If they went through all this and failed failed to retrieve Plekhanov, well, he was definitely going to be in c.r.a.p up to his eyebrows. to retrieve Plekhanov, well, he was definitely going to be in c.r.a.p up to his eyebrows.

If this operation failed, he'd sure as h.e.l.l get a lot of time to practice his laughing, probably a long, long way from anything connected to Net Force. Though he didn't think he'd feel much like yuk-yukking it up for a while.

Sunday, October 10th, 12:12 a.m. Grozny "She's at top speed now, sir," the pilot yelled. He had to yell to be heard over the Huey's rotor and wind noise. All those action vids where they showed people having normal conversations inside a big chopper with the doors open, like two aristocrats sharing tea in an air-conditioned Rolls Royce, were pure fantasy. Those vids were produced by somebody who had probably never even seen seen a helicopter close up. Even the radio chatter in the headphones was hard to hear. a helicopter close up. Even the radio chatter in the headphones was hard to hear.

"How long?" Howard shouted.

"Two, three minutes," the pilot yelled back. "There's the edge of the tank farm ahead, to the right. And there's the river. I'm going to take us right over the main road."

The ten men a.s.signed to this craft carried H&K subguns and holstered side arms--9mm Brownings, along with Cold Steel sheath knives. They wore plain coveralls, but they also wore flak vests and generic Kevlar helmets and boots. The gear was all over-the-counter commercial--the subguns were from Germany, the pistols from Belgium, the vests Israeli, the knives j.a.panese. This was not supposed to be a stand-up fight, and if any gear got left behind, it wasn't going to point to the United States.

The troops did wear dog tags, but that didn't matter--they weren't leaving any personnel behind. Either they all left or they all stayed.

"There's the truck!" Fernandez yelled.

"And there's trouble," Howard said.

A convoy of military-style vehicles, three of them, was fast approaching the dead truck from the other direction. The lead vehicle was a Jeep-clone with a light machine gun mounted on it amidships, and a figure in camo manning the weapon. The second vehicle was a police car with a flashing blue light. The third vehicle was a large SWAT-style van, also with a light blinking atop it. Even over the roar of the noise in the copter, they could hear the sirens.

"Well, s.h.i.t," Fernandez said.

Howard yelled at the pilot. "Will my headset reach C2?" "Yes, sir, it should."

Howard trigged his com. To the commander of the other copter, Howard said, "C2, this is Alpha Wolf, do you copy?"

"Alpha Wolf, we copy your trans."

"C2, I want you to stand away, repeat, stand away. Circle back and we'll call if we need you. No point in giving them two targets."

"Yes, sir."

To his pilot, Howard said, "Put it down, Loot. Between our truck and the incoming."

"Yes, sir."

Howard's stomach lurched as the bird dropped toward the road. He felt his skin tighten. "n.o.body fires unless fired on! Deploy in a staggered grid and stand ready."

Howard looked at the uprushing road. No cover, but he wouldn't start blasting in the middle of an oil-tank field if it was his his property. He was banking on the Chechen force commander's surprise and sense of responsibility. If it was Howard running some out-of-the-way post, and he got a call to investigate a shooting in the middle of the night, and an unmarked copter put down and disgorged armed and unidentified troops, property. He was banking on the Chechen force commander's surprise and sense of responsibility. If it was Howard running some out-of-the-way post, and he got a call to investigate a shooting in the middle of the night, and an unmarked copter put down and disgorged armed and unidentified troops, he he would hesitate before opening fire--as long as they didn't shoot first. There would be some important questions he'd want answers to: Who were they? What were they doing there? Could they be his own, doing some covert deal? Before you started blasting, you needed would hesitate before opening fire--as long as they didn't shoot first. There would be some important questions he'd want answers to: Who were they? What were they doing there? Could they be his own, doing some covert deal? Before you started blasting, you needed some some information. It was one thing to shoot at some criminals in a truck you thought might have a hostage, but if you cut your own troops down, that would be bad for your career. If you riddled a bunch of oil tanks with AP rounds and created knee-deep pools of the stuff, that would also be bad. In the Chechen's place, Howard would be making some fast calls, trying to figure out what the h.e.l.l was going on. information. It was one thing to shoot at some criminals in a truck you thought might have a hostage, but if you cut your own troops down, that would be bad for your career. If you riddled a bunch of oil tanks with AP rounds and created knee-deep pools of the stuff, that would also be bad. In the Chechen's place, Howard would be making some fast calls, trying to figure out what the h.e.l.l was going on.

The Huey touched down. "Lock and load!" Howard yelled.