Dead Water

27

Phillips gave the knock on J. C.'s door. Entering with a laptop in hand, she sat down at the table and opened it.

"This is going to be real time. Everything that comes through will go into a file. The feed should start in about two minutes."

"That was fast."

"When Backersley says jump, they don't question it."

Suddenly, the door burst open, and Styles walked in. "Anybody on guard here?"

"Well, you do have a key," offered Starr.

"How hard is it going to be for the CIA to get a key? Listen up. We've got a CIA hit team at the other end of the building, two floors up. They are hot on our ass. I had another run-in with them in the woods where I parked. They were waiting for me."

That got everyone's attention. "How the fuck?" Christman muttered, who woke up from the sofa when Phillips entered.

"My guess is they're watching Ali's place too. They spotted my Jeep and waited."

"What happened?" Starr asked suspiciously.

"Didn't end well."

"Jeez, Marv."

"I don't want to hear it, Starr. Besides having a gun stuck in my face, smacked with one, and getting shot, we've got a job to do, and until somebody proves me wrong, as far as I'm concerned, the CIA is basically made up of clusterfucks, not to mention they are operating illegally in this country." Looking at Phillips, he added, "Present company not included."

"Shot?" all three exclaimed.

"Yeah, think it's a flesh wound in my calf. Let me get my first-aid kit." He rummaged through one of his bags and returned to the table. "Sorry, Phillips, but I've got to take my jeans off."

"Let's see the wound," she replied.

Styles sat in his underwear and a T-shirt, and the others crowded around him. "Just what I thought: nothing but a good crease!" Styles exclaimed. "Starr, hand me that small yellow bag." Taking it, he tore open a corner and poured a tan powder all over the wound. "It's a coagulant; it'll stop the bleeding, though it's not too bad. Grab one of those large nonstick bandage pads and the tape."

"Here, let me," said Phillips. "I've done this before." Quickly, she dressed the wound. "There, that should work. We'll need to change it twice a day. It looked pretty clean."

"So what happened?" Starr demanded.

"They've increased security, added a battery-powered security light system in the damn woods. Place lit up like Vegas. Guard up in a tree stand got me. Worse part is they'll be on high alert." Then Styles recounted what had happened with the CIA agents.

Starr started to interject, but Styles interrupted him. "Starr, quiet. I've come across the CIA too many times, and you can count on them fucking something up in one way or another. That whole damned agency is egotistical, and we don't have time to be nice. We've got a synthetic toxin we need to stop before all fucking hell breaks loose, and I don't have any confidence in the CIA to deal with it. Besides, they're not even supposed to be here. We've got a job to do, and we're going to be the ones who do it. Got it? Things have changed, and everybody here had better get that through their heads. If we're going to do what President Williams has asked of us, then we don't play nice. I'm not saying we start killing at random, not at all. With the exception of my father, I don't trust anybody outside this room. I don't know if I ever will, but we have to all be on the exact same page, and that is we do anything to get the job done with respect to the one condition we work under. Either we throw ourselves totally into this, or we go home. Right here, right now, we make that decision, and it won't be brought up again. And no offense meant here, Starr, but you don't question what I do. We don't question Christman's flying skills, we don't question Phillips's ability on computers, and we don't question your usual common-sense voice of reason. You're right, Starr. I'm a killer, have been now for well over fifteen years. I don't particularly like it, I don't get off on it; it's a job I just happen to do well. It's a job that has to be done. If I can live with it, you have to be able to, as well. And you questioning me when I do is getting on my nerves. Here's the deal. I don't unless I have to. Tonight, I had to." There was no anger in Styles's voice, just respectful firmness.

"Marv, I apologize. I did not mean to question your actions, and I'm sorry if it appeared that I did, and I feel the same way about this group," Starr replied.

Phillips spoke. "I'm in this, all the way." Without even looking at him, she added, "And I know J. C. is, as well, and the both of you."

Starr walked up to Styles and looked him straight in the eyes. "I'm sorry. Of all the people I've ever known, in and out of the military, there is absolutely no one I respect more than you. It will never happen again."

"If anybody dares to say 'group hug,' I'll shoot them," Styles replied with just a hint of a grin. "What have you got on the laptop?" he inquired, joining Phillips at the table. The other two brought chairs around and sat, as well.

"The CIA drone. It's just starting the live feed. All the orange blotches we see will be people. At least the ones that are larger than a quarter inch. Pinpoints are small animals. A rectangular one will likely be a deer. Anything bigger than a half inch is not living but a heat-generating object. Okay, everybody count."

No one spoke for eight minutes, the time it took for the drone to make three passes over and around the entire estate.

"Ten," said Starr.

"I got twelve," piped up Christman.

"Styles?" quizzed Phillips.

"Ten people, three deer, four smaller animals, and something else that's generating heat."

"What were those two dim, yellowy objects at the beginning?" Christman inquired.

"Bodies," stated Styles flatly. "Looks like ten guards tonight, definitely upped them from last night. Means the agent is on the premises. The cameras and transmitters are all in place. J. C., I'm betting that Ellhad is going to rent another truck. There is a dually on the premises that I got a bug on, but it doesn't make sense to use their own vehicle. With a decent-size tow-behind camper, he'll want a three-quarter ton at minimum, if he's got half a brain."

"Why use the truck and camper?" asked Christman.

"It will allow him to blend in with all the other people traveling over the holiday weekend."

"I'll be on station to intercept and follow him by seven thirty. If he does get another truck, I'll get the bug on it. I've got a question, though," said Christman. "If we're sure that toxin is on his property, why not just go get it now?"

"Same deal. Too much chance if we go busting in there now that somehow they'll have some kind of contingency plan in place to get it out of there. If we go after Ellhad when he's by himself, then there's no backup," Styles explained.

"But isn't that taking a bit of a chance?" continued Christman.

"It's all a chance, J. C., every bit of it. This mission has two equal parts in my mind. Once that toxin has left Ali's estate, I go in and eliminate everyone. Part two is stopping the agent. There's one other thing. Tonight, I overheard a conversation between who I'm sure was Ali and an unknown, but I think it was Ellhad. I'm not fluent in Arabic, but I did hear the word assassination and the name Nazir al-Hadid. Far as I'm concerned, that definitely ties him to both events."

Christman whistled low under his breath, something everyone was accustomed to when breaking news was brought into the conversation. "No shit," he muttered.

"Phillips, could you tell if there was any CIA reaction to Starr's little journey?" Styles inquired.

"Oh yeah," she answered. "They had a team waiting for him at the airport. You were right, him going down there and just fueling up really got them wondering. I was laughing listening to them."

"Listening?"

"Oh yeah, I hacked into the cell towers. It was a breeze."

"One more thing," Styles said. "This group is a democracy. Decisions about who the group goes after, how we do it, and decisions that involve the group are just that: a group decision. The fact that we all have a specific role to play and at times we help each other as required and how we perform our specific roles is obviously up to us. I just wanted to clarify that. Okay, everybody get some sleep. We do a final analysis at six thirty sharp."

At 6:28 a.m., Styles opened the door, and Phillips joined the three guys in the motel room they were bunked in. Starr was in possession of the GPS receiver tracking the vehicles Styles had targeted. It displayed the truck still parked at Ali's compound. Styles was leading the assembly.

"Phillips, you'll be with me. Dress in full camo, including face concealment. Bring your armament, including suppressors, and your interrogation kit. Starr, you're going to have to supplant J. C. on the surveillance of Ellhad, since he needs to be in the copter. Be sure to have a full complement of gear with you. I want you to take up the position I marked on the map. That's the only way away from Ali's property that Ellhad will take. We'll keep in touch via our comm units. J. C., I already planted the GPS transmitter in the small field you'll use as the landing zone. Phillips, we have to be careful in avoiding the CIA or FBI going in. We don't want to get into a firefight with them."

"Do you want me to go ahead and land or just circle around?"

"Circle. When you file your flight plan, mention that you're on a photography assignment. You'll only land if we call for an extract."

"How far do you want me to stay back?" asked Starr.

"No more than a mile. You need to be close enough so that if he swaps for a rental, you can be sure to see what he's in. That's when you'll have to get a transmitter on that truck. There's a strong possibility that he won't stop. In that case, don't under any circumstances lose track of him. The one shot you should have is when he goes to pick up that camper rental. I didn't see one on the property. Anybody got any questions?"

All three shook their heads.

"All right. Starr, you're in the silver sedan. Phillips, you and I are in the Yukon. J. C. takes the Jeep, but remember, it has a stolen tag on it. You'll be leaving it at the airport, so wherever you park, be sure to back in. Phillips, we leave in thirty. Let's go."

Twenty-eight minutes later, Styles and Phillips were the only two at the motel. They were walking toward the dark brown Yukon they would be driving. Styles had loaded his gear earlier. Phillips was carrying hers. Styles opened the back passenger door, and Phillips threw her equipment across the backseat. Styles looked around carefully; no one appeared to be paying any attention to them.

Styles got behind the wheel, and they headed out.

"Any words of advice?" asked Phillips.

"Keep a three-sixty awareness and a close eye on your compass once I give you the signal. Hold it as I showed you; it'll detect a pressure plate. Now listen to me. Darlene, this is not about prisoners. This is about killing terrorists. When you shoot someone, and you will, be sure they are down. If in doubt, put one in their head. This is important: how far out are you accurate with your AR?"

"Four hundred yards with the sniper scope."

"How about with your EOTech?"

"Deadly to seventy-five, accurate to a hundred. That's what's mounted now."

"Good enough for me. We're going to get in close and hole up. After Ellhad leaves with the camper, we'll clear the cabins and then the main house. There will be at least two guards on the roof of each cabin on the end, possibly four. There are also sentries in deer stands in the woods. We take them as we come across them. We have to assume they have radios, but they probably won't use them on a regular check-in. When we start in, be sure you have your subsonic rounds loaded. Once we get ready to start the clear, we'll change over to green-tips," he continued, referencing the armor-piercing rounds. "Last thing: anybody in there is considered a hostile. Anybody. You okay with that?"

"I'm okay with all of it," she replied sternly.