Heat Lightning (37 page)

"You'll notice that there isn't as much brush as you'd expect--Carl keeps it trimmed out pretty good. The trees are bigger than you'd expect, because he has them thinned. He wants it to look sorta normal, but when you get into it, you can see a lot further than if it was just untouched woods."

"How does it pick up movement?" Bunch asked. "Radar?"

"They're dual-mode--microwave and infrared to pick up body heat."

Raines had worked through a defensive setup. "Whoever's covering the system has to know where our guys are at. You don't want to be turning on the lights if you don't have to, because you've got your own guys moving around. If somebody's coming in with high-end night-vision goggles, some of those can see into the infrared. It'd be like turning on a floodlight for them."

Virgil looked at his watch. "I don't think they'll get here until daylight anyway," he said. "Not unless they flew, and then they'd still have to drive."

They got a beep then, and Raines switched one of the monitor views, and they saw a fuzzy heat-blob moving across the screen. "It's small--probably a doe," he said. He flicked on the infrared lights and they saw the doe, wandering undisturbed through the trees.

"Hell of a system," Virgil said.

TWO OR THREE minutes later, as they were headed back to the living room, the security system beeped again and they went back to look at the monitors. "Car coming in," Raines said. He touched one of the monitors and they saw a truck coming toward them, down the driveway.

"Bemidji," Bunch said.

"We oughta put the trucks in the garage--too many of them, they'll get worried. If they spot them," Jarlait said.

THE THREE AGENTS from Bemidji--Paul Queenen, Chuck Whiting, Larry McDonald--brought assault rifles, armor, and radios. With the handsets that Virgil already had, there'd be enough for everyone. They gathered in Knox's den, where he had a Macintosh computer with a thirty-inch video display, and Virgil called up Google Earth and put a satellite view of Knox's property on the screen.

"Overall, I see two possibilities," Virgil said, touching the screen. "First, they come in by water, which wouldn't surprise me if they've looked at this picture, and they probably have. They could grab a boat, or bring one--a canoe or a jon boat--throw it in the water, and drift right along the shore. They'd probably come in from the south, but they could come in from either direction, so we have to watch both. The second possibility is that all they've got is a car, or a truck, and they come in from the highway . . . but they won't want to park in the open, so they'll have to ditch the truck here or here."

When he finished, one of the Bemidji agents said, "You know, there're only two highways in here." He tapped the screen. "If you put roadblocks here and here . . . they gotta hit them. If you had some guys hiding off-road, south of the roadblocks, and if somebody turned and ran, they could block them south. Trap them."

"I thought of that," Virgil said. "One problem: we'd have some dead cops. These people have no reason not to fight. They've already killed seven or eight people, they're here illegally, and they could be considered spies. Probably would be. If we catch them, they'll go away forever. So if they're suddenly jumped by a roadblock, my feeling is that they'd go for it--they'd try to shoot their way through. And they might have any kind of weapons.

"The other problem is, we've got Canada here." Virgil traced the border on the satellite view. "They could literally swim to a country where we have no authority, if they could shoot their way to the river. If they get to Canada, I have a feeling we lose them."

"Probably would," another of the agents said. "Their crimes are federal capital crimes. Canada wouldn't extradite. We'd have to make some weird kind of deal. I don't think the politicians would go for it--let Canada tell us what we could do."

"One more thing," Virgil said. "They've been working this operation for a year. They're not stupid; they'll have alternative plans. I thought about things like, what if they ditched all their weapons down in the Cities and flew into Fort Frances? They walk through Canadian customs, pick up a prepositioned weapons cache and a boat over there, cross the river, hit Knox, cross back, and head out."

They all looked at the map, then Jarlait chuckled and said, "Wish you'd mentioned that sooner. If they did that, they could be here right now."

"No. Not on the alarm system," Raines said. "We'll see them coming--might only have a minute or two, but we'll see them."

"Maybe they've got invisibility cloaks," Bunch said.

Raines said, "Well, then we're fucked."

VIRGIL SAT staring at the map until Bunch prodded him and asked, "What do we do, boss?"

Virgil said, "Our biggest problem is that we don't know the territory, and we don't have time to learn it. Can't see in the woods, but we can't help it, because if they're coming at all, they're coming tonight. By tomorrow, they've got to figure they'll be all over the media. That Knox will know that they're coming and will get out. And I've set them up to think that I don't know where this house is . . . if they're still monitoring my truck. So: I think they'll come in fast, but there aren't many of them."

He looked at Jarlait and Bunch. "I want you two guys at the corners of the property, on the river, looking for boats." He touched the two corners on the video map. "I want you deep under cover, I want you to literally find a hole, and then, not move. Nothing sticking up but your head. They've got starlight scopes and night-vision glasses. If they come in, I just want a warning so we can reposition everybody else."

To the Bemidji guys: "I want you three on the land side." He pointed at the video display: "Here, here, and here."

"I want everybody on the ground, hidden. Your main job will be to spot these guys so we can build a trap as they come in."

"You mean, ambush them," Whiting said.

Virgil nodded. "That's what it comes to. I'm going to ask Sean to monitor the security system. If anybody sees or hears anything, you call on the radio. Bunch of clicks and your name. That's all. When they come in, you let them past and then get ready to close from the back. Sean will vector you in behind them. If they come in spread out, that means they'll be hooked up by radio. If they're operating as a sniper team, I expect at least two will come together, a spotter and a shooter. Gotta watch out for the third one.

"If they come in from the river, I want the land-side guys to rally down here on the house; if they come in from the land-side, I want Jarlait and Bunch to rally up to the house," Virgil said. "I'll be here with Sean until something pops up, and then I'll go out to face them. By staying here, I can go in any direction."

"And stay out of the mosquitoes," Bunch said.

"And drink beer and watch TV," Virgil said. He looked at his watch. "I want to get us out and get spotted right now. So get armored up, get warm, get your head nets on, get plugged into the radios. Find a comfortable place to lie down and then check in with us."

Raines said, "Best if it's in a ditch or low spot, someplace that will minimize your heat signature, in case they have infrared imaging capability. Get low."

"If everything works perfectly, if they come in and we drop the net around them, I'll try to talk to them," Virgil said. "If they make a run for it, well, stay down and make sure you know what you're shooting at. Anybody running has got to be them. Got that? Nobody runs. We don't want any of us shot by any of us."

He looked around. "If anybody gets hurt, call it in if you can, and we'll make you the first priority. First priority is 'Don't get hurt.' Catching these people is the second priority, okay? Don't get your ass shot."

He turned to Raines. "You know where the hospital is?"

Raines nodded.

"Then you're in charge of making the hospital run if anybody gets knocked down. Them or us," Virgil said. "One thing to remember is, they're coming in here expecting to be on the offensive. They've got to come to us. We don't have to maneuver; we just have to snap the trap. Okay? So let's put your armor on and get out there."

To Raines: "One more thing: if there's shooting, and I can't do it, I want you to call the sheriff's office and tell them what's up. Tell them that it's a BCA operation. We don't want any locals to come crashing through and get mixed up with us, or with the Vietnamese."

VIRGIL AND Paul Queenen moved the BCA truck into the garage, and on the way back in, Queenen looked up at the overcast sky and asked, "What if they don't come in?"

"Then they don't. But if they're monitoring my truck, and they should be, it's been like the ace in their hand . . . then they know we've tumbled to them. They know when people start watching TV, everybody in the state will be looking for them. If they don't move tonight, they'll have to give it up." Virgil looked at his watch again. "They've got to be getting close."

"If they come."

"They will," Virgil said. "I talked to the woman a couple days ago. Mai--Hoa. Told her I didn't know where Knox is hiding. I said it again tonight, in the truck. So--this is their last chance."

"Why did you tell her that? Did you already know she was in it?"

"No." Virgil thought about it for a minute, then said, "I don't know why I told her that."

FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER, all five men were at their stands. All five were deer hunters, they were all camouflaged and armored and netted and settled in, earbuds operating.

Virgil piled his armor in the hallway leading to the electronics room. He slipped into a soft camo turkey-hunter's jacket, put a magazine in each of four separate pockets so they wouldn't rattle, another one seated in the rifle, a shell jacked into the chamber. He jumped up and down a few times to make sure that nothing rattled, then piled the jacket and rifle next to the armor and walked around the house turning off lights.

When the place was dark, he pulled a couple of cushions off the couch in the living room, got a towel from the kitchen, and carried them to the electronics room, where Raines was sitting in a dimmed-down light, watching the monitors.

Virgil tossed the cushions on the floor, lay down on them, put the towel across his eyes, got out the second bottle of Pepsi, took a sip. "Everybody spotted?"

"Yes. I can barely see them, even on the infrared. They got themselves some holes."

A moment of silence, then Virgil asked, "How'd you get this job?"

Raines said, "Got out of the Crotch, couldn't get a job, so a guy got me a shot as a doorman at a club. You know. I met some guys doing security for rock stars, thought I could do that, and that's what I did."

"What rock stars do you know?"

He shrugged again. "Ah, you know. I don't know any of them, but I've ridden around with most of them one time or another. I'm the guy who gets out of the limo first."

"What'd you do in the Crotch?"

"Rifleman, mostly--though the last year I spent mostly on shore patrol."

"Yeah? I was an MP," Virgil said.

"Tell you what," Raines said. "I was in Iraq One. I did a lot more fighting as an SP than I ever did in Iraq. Especially those fuckin' squids, man. When the fleet is in, Jesus Christ, you just don't want to be there."

"I was in Fort Lauderdale once when a British ship came in," Virgil said, relaxing into the time-killing chatter. "The people that came off that boat were the pinkest people I ever saw. Absolutely pink, like babies' butts. You could see them six blocks away, they glowed in the dark. I went down to a place on the beach that night, you could hear the screaming a block away, and then the sirens started up, and when I got there, here was twenty buck-naked pink British sailors in the goddamnedest brawl. . . . Man. They were throwing cops out of the club."

So they bullshitted through an hour, and once every fifteen minutes or so Raines would start calling names, getting a click from each.

Raines said, "We looked you up on the Internet. Me 'n' Knox."

"Yeah?"

"Saw that thing about the shoot-out, that small-town deal, with the preacher and the dope. Sounded like a war," Raines said.

"It was like a war," Virgil said. The towel on his eyes was comfortable, but not being able to see Raines was annoying. "Close as I ever want to come."

Raines said, "But here you are again, automatic weapons, body armor . . ."

"Just . . . coincidence," Virgil said. "I hope."

THE VIETNAMESE came in.

Fifteen clicks, a solid, fast rhythm, and one muttered word, "Bunch," carrying nothing but urgency.

"It's Bunch," Raines said. "I don't see shit on the monitor." He picked up a radio and said, "That's Bunch clicking, folks. Bunch: one click if by land, two if they're on the water."

Pause: two clicks.

Raines: "Bunch. One click if it's likely some fishermen. Several clicks if it's likely the Viets."

Pause: several clicks.

Raines: "Click how many there are."

Pause, then: five slow clicks.

Virgil had crawled into the hallway and closed the door against the light, pulled the armor over his head, patted the Velcro closures, pulled on the jacket, pulled on the head net and the shooting gloves. His eyes were good, already accustomed to the dark. He could hear Raines talking to Bunch.