Decency (51 page)

The second State Patrol van slid to an angled stop blocking the front of the Fitzgerald’s car.

The three members in the back and the driver raced to catch up with the previous cadre.

Harlan and Kathy were stopped in the road. Kelly pulled up along-side.

“Okay, Senator, we’re all stopped. How did you know…”

“Bless you, my friend. I got a good story to tell you.”

The teams at the front and back doors stared at the second hands sweeping around the dial faces of their watches. The State Patrol members had taken positions and stopped. It was eerily quiet. Twenty five seconds after the last truck stopped, gloved hands on both doorknobs turned and eased the doors open.

Fitzgerald heard the squeak of the back door, then a creak at the front door, and turned his flashlight and his head to look.

…the sun…?

BAMM

The flash blinded, and the concussion blasted Fitzgerald. He pitched sideways head first against the wall.

BA-BAMM SSS—SS

The tear gas canisters went off and in moments Fitzgerald was unable to see or breathe properly.

He wiggled to the floor hoping to get under the cloud. He reached back with one arm for the Mack 10. He was caught by that arm and slammed down to the floor.

Hands gripped his other arm and dragged it behind him. Others fastened on his legs pinning him under the weight of their owner. A knee crashed on his head and neck. Cuffs clicked around his wrists and ankles. Someone shoved his head to one side. Tape hit his mouth and eyes. Knife-sawn, the strap parted and his weapon went away. Team members frisked him for other weapons, brought him upright and carried him along. His feet dragged on the floor, across the front door threshold, over the porch, down the steps, onto the grass. He was dropped. Dazed, blinded, shackled, silenced, breathless, and harmless.

He could hear footsteps. No one spoke.

Two team members re-entered the house. One picked up the four grenade canisters. The other raced up the stairs, checked each of the rooms for fire. They cleared the house for occupants and casualties and found none.

Kelly, Harlan, and Kathy jumped with the explosions.

“My gosh.”

“What…”

“The house…”

Sandoval pulled out his picture of Fitzgerald, shined a flashlight in his face and ripped off the eye tape.

He nodded, it’s him. A team member quickly sloshed Fitzgerald’s face with canteen water and daubed his nostrils with moistened Q-tips to remove the tear gas and any threat to Fitzgerald’s ability to breathe.

Fresh tape smacked across his eyes. The tape from his mouth was ripped off to insure he was breathing normally. He was. Fresh tape whacked across his mouth again and a slit was cut for an air passage through his mouth. He was boosted up again, dragged to a truck and half-thrown in the back. The tailgate slammed shut behind him. Two team members clambered into the back. A driver jumped in and the truck wheeled around, drove out the driveway, turned right, went up to the intersection, turned right again, whipped down the road to where the State Patrol vans were parked and slid to a stop.

The team leaped out, clanged down the tailgate, grabbed Fitzgerald’s feet and pulled him out the back. The driver went and opened the rear door of the van in front of the car. The team hustled Fitzgerald to the van and shoved him in, pushed his feet out of the way, slammed the door and locked it.

The man who had stayed at the car took a new position at the rear of the van. The others got back in the truck, and it swung around and pulled away.

Sandoval heard, “Target secure. Ready for re-launch in five zero seconds.”

32

Kimberly Burke heard a message in her phone and announced, “FBI has secured a device from the law office in Washington.”

The Senator finished the short and narrow gauge version of the story he knew for Kelly, Harlan, and Kathy now huddled around Kelly’s phone.

“That be it from me, my friend. God speed, cher.”

“Thank you, Senator.”

Horton took the Charboneaux-Hawkins call off the speakerphone when the Pierce vehicles stopped.

All eyes watched the vehicles and figures play across the screen in silence.

Finally, Sandoval’s quiet voice announced the status.

“Target secure. A device remains in the wall where the phone jack plate was. Zero casualties. Ready for re-launch, now.”

Horton clicked the White House switch board button for the speakerphone.

“White House.”

“Horton for the President.”