Target America

17

Back in Chicago, Crosswhite stood with his hands high over his head while two paratroopers from the 82nd Airborne Division stripped him and Tuckerman of their combat harnesses and body armor. A second lieutenant, along with several other troopers, stood watching as a hulking staff sergeant stepped into the light, speaking into the lieutenant’s ear, glancing scornfully at Crosswhite, and then doing a double-take.

“Captain?” the sergeant said. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Crosswhite grinned. “Getting felt up by the corporal. How’ve you been, Sergeant Nipples?” The sergeant’s real name was Naples, but Nipples had been his nickname since before he and Crosswhite had taken jump training together at Fort Benning.

The lieutenant allowed the barrel of his carbine to drop slightly. “You know this man, Sergeant?”

“Yes, sir,” Naples said. “He’s a Medal of Honor winner; one of the men who rescued Sandra Brux.”

The corporal and the other trooper both stood back, everyone now regarding Crosswhite and Tuckerman not only with increased curiosity but also a sudden hint of respect as well.

“Got any ID?” the lieutenant asked Crosswhite, now less sure of what he had on his hands.

“I don’t generally carry my wallet on classified missions, Lieutenant. Do you?”

The lieutenant had never been on a classified mission, and everyone present knew it. “Dog tags, sir?”

Crosswhite put down his hands and indicated for Tuckerman to do the same, realizing they’d gained the initiative, thanks to Naples’s having vouched for him. “I’m not permitted to disclose the details of my mission, Lieutenant, but you do realize there’s a nuclear weapon in play, correct?”

“Yes, sir, but I wasn’t made aware of any Special Forces activity in this sector, so I’m going to need—”

“You weren’t made aware of it, Lieutenant, because you’re a goddamn butter bar.” This was a pejorative referring to the gold color of a second lieutenant’s rank insignia. “Now, I suggest you cut us loose and let us be on our way before your interference costs us the fucking ball game. You know Chicago is a primary target, and I don’t exactly have time to lose here.”

Tuckerman saw the lieutenant shift his weight and realized that Crosswhite’s bullshit was working. He made a show of checking the time, pulling his sleeve up his arm to look at his watch and muttering audibly to Crosswhite that they were falling behind schedule.

“I know we’re behind schedule,” Crosswhite said irritably. “What do you want me to do about it? These men have a job to do too.”

The lieutenant looked at Naples and jerked his head, leading him out of the beam of the spotlight and into the dark. “What do you think, Sergeant?”

Naples cradled his M4. “Sir, I’ve operated with Crosswhite. He’s Delta Force, exactly the kind of guy the Pentagon would send into the field to find a loose nuke.”

“But why here, Sergeant, in the middle of this run-down neighborhood? I’m not buying it.”

“Sir, where better to hide a fucking atom bomb in the US than a neighborhood like this?”

“Gentlemen!” Crosswhite called. “We’re wasting time!”

Naples sized up the vacillating lieutenant, who, at just age twenty-three, was a full ten years younger than him. “Sir, I really don’t want us to be the reason that goddamn bomb goes off. I advise we send them on their way ASAP.”

The lieutenant considered it a moment longer then nodded. “Okay, Sergeant. We’ll—”

A Chicago PD patrol car whipped around the corner with lights flashing and sped up the block, slamming on the brakes just a few feet from the line of parked Humvees. The passenger door opened and a very pissed-off police captain got out.

“What in the Jesus Christ hell is going on!” he demanded. He stabbed a finger toward Crosswhite and Tuckerman. “Why are those two men not under arrest? We just found a man beaten half to death in the back of their van. These two sons a bitches have been robbing every fucking drug den on the South Side!”

The lieutenant looked at Crosswhite. “What’s he talking about?”

“The asshole in our van is an informant,” Crosswhite said. “And you people are fucking around in a top-secret Special Forces operation.”

The police captain’s eyebrows soared in disbelief. “What the fuck are you talking about?” His voice was shrill and almost womanlike. “Who the fuck says so?”

Sergeant Naples took Crosswhite aside, ordering the corporal and the other trooper out of earshot. “Captain, I’m asking you soldier to soldier… are you really on a goddamn mission, or are you running around robbing fucking drug dealers?”

Crosswhite looked him dead in the eyes. “Sergeant, if I’m knocking the shit out of drug dealers, you’d better believe there’s a good goddamn reason for it! Now remind that fucking cop that the police are subordinate to the army under martial law and get him the fuck out of here so we can be on our goddamn way. I’ve got family in this fucking city, and I don’t intend to see them wiped out because some local flatfoot got his ass up in the air. Now get fucking rid of him!”

“Sir!” Naples turned on his heel as two more patrol cars pulled up and unloaded four more cops.

The lieutenant faced him as he approached. “Sergeant, turn the prisoners over to the police. I’ll get Major Byard on the radio and have him start checking Crosswhite’s story.”

The police captain directed the arriving officers to take the prisoners into custody. “Put ’em in separate cars!”

“Stop!” Sergeant Naples ordered, and everyone froze in place. “Lieutenant, the prisoners are in our custody, and our authority overrules the police.”

“I understand that,” the lieutenant said, “but their story does sound—”

“Halt!” Naples shouted, shouldering his M4 to aim it at two cops as they started moving toward the prisoners.

Three other cops drew their pistols and aimed them at Naples, and a dozen more troopers brought their weapons to bear, creating a lethal standoff.

“Get ready to run!” Crosswhite said to Tuckerman.

“Stand down!” the lieutenant ordered. “Stand down right now!”

Naples stood firm, his finger on the trigger and ready to fire. “Sir! I know Captain Crosswhite. I’ve served with him in combat. And no disrespect intended, sir, but you just don’t have enough time in grade to make this call on your own. So I’m asking you to reconsider. If you won’t cut them loose to carry out their mission, at least hold them at the FOB until we can confirm their story. If you turn them over to these men, they’re liable to end up dead before we can get word from the Pentagon.”

“We’re not going to kill anybody!” the police captain rejoined. “Who the hell do you think you are making that kind of accusation?”

Naples ignored him, his eyes fixed on his targets. “Lieutenant, the heat for them ending up dead will fall on your head because these cops are subordinate to your authority. Now, what are your orders, sir?”

His inexperienced mind racing, the lieutenant stood thinking it over, seeing the sergeant’s point about him taking the blame if Crosswhite’s story was true and anything happened to him while in police custody.

“Very well, Sergeant. I’ll take your advice. We’ll transport them to the FOB until we can get confirmation one way or the other. Now, lower that weapon before somebody gets killed.”

“Yes, sir, but I strongly recommend we let them on their way.”

“I’ve made my decision, Sergeant. Now, carry out my orders!”

“Yes, sir.” Naples lowered his carbine, and everyone slowly stood down.

A minute later, Crosswhite and Tuckerman were put into the back of an armored Humvee, and the doors were slammed shut.

“Well, I gotta hand it to you,” Tuckerman said. “You almost pulled off the most brilliant piece of bullshitting I’ve ever seen — almost.”

Crosswhite sighed, pulling off his gloves and jacking his boot up against the back of the passenger seat. “Well, we’re not in handcuffs yet, so be ready to move when the opportunity presents itself. We may have to knock a few heads together to get away.”

Tuckerman let out a snicker. “ ‘Captain Crosswhite’… ‘Special Forces!’ Dumb-ass.”

Crosswhite chuckled. “What’d you want me to say, dickhead? I don’t think ‘washed-up, has-been Green Beret’ would’ve had quite the same effect.”