Holding Their Own VII: Phoenix Star (27 page)

The Claymores were a secondary precaution. While both men assumed their target would travel in a single veh
icle, there was no guarantee. If there were lead or follow-on escorts, they would have to invoke the backup plan and detonate the mines. Mr. White’s instructions had been clear, capture the major if at all possible, but make damn sure he didn’t get to Memphis. The military-issued anti-personnel mines would do just that.

Each the size of
a shoebox top with a concave shape, the Claymore was a staple of US infantry units dating back to the Vietnam War. A simple device, the body was packed with high explosive designed to propel 700 small steel balls at similar velocities as a rifle bullet. Any target within 20 meters was typically shredded, including unarmored cars. If the major had escorts, the string of mines would make short work of them.

Earlier in the day, Alastair had placed a small magnetic trans
mitter under the bumper of the major’s SUV. The two operatives weren’t familiar with the volume of traffic in the area and decided the precaution was necessary to avoid misidentification. The two men were just donning their ponchos when a beeping indicated their target was approaching.

Eris glanced to the north, seeing a single pair of headlights approachi
ng. “We’ve got a lone target,” he informed his partner. Alastair nodded, setting the Claymore’s detonator aside. They could handle a single carload without the messy devices.

Eris continued to monitor the SUV’s approach. He pulled a stopwatch from his pocket, and when the headlights disappeared behind the supports of a large billboard, the operative’s thumb pushed down to start the timepiece.

A few seconds later, the headlights again were blocked by an obstacle, and Eris stopped the timer. Glancing at the readout, he looked at his partner and said, “Three point zero four seconds.”

Alastair’s lips moved as he did the math. He whispered, “They’re traveling at 36 mph. We push the van at the second marker.”

Eris nodded, gripping the rope leading to the block of wood in front of the driver’s side tire. Alastair began counting down… “Three… two… one… go!”

Eris jerk
ed the wood free, and then both men put their shoulders to the van. The sound of crunching gravel sounded as the wheels began to turn. Gravity soon took over, and their battering ram gained speed as it rolled down the hill toward the unwary SUV approaching from the north.

Despite their precise measurements and timing, the minivan didn’t produce the desired effect. Instead of striking the front fender of the SUV, it T-boned the rear quarter panel at the same moment one of the security men in the back seat yelled, “Shit!”

The driver, completely taken by surprise, overcompensated his correction of the now swerving SUV. The heavy vehicle’s center of gravity shifted rapidly, and for a brief time it rolled on two wheels before turning over and eventually skidding to a halt resting on its roof.

All four men inside were suspended upside down by their seat belts, unable to react due to shock and the awkward position
of their landing. Their inability to protect the major was further degraded by the flash-bang grenade Eris rolled next to the upside down transport.

Igniting with a blinding flash of light, the otherwise harmless explosion blinded all of the men inside the SUV. No sooner had the resoundi
ng thunder echoed into the otherwise quiet countryside, two flashlight beams illuminated the cabin, each focusing on the face of an upside down occupant.

Six gunshots rang out, each of the three security men receiving a pair
of 5.56 NATO rounds. Beckworth, still trying to regain his vision and senses, was pulled roughly from his seat onto the wet pavement.

“What’s your name?” an angry voice screamed in his ear.

“I… I… who the fuck are…,” the confused man tried to respond.

A hard slap stung the major’s cheek. And then another. “What’s your name?”

Nick and his crew had been following the SUV without headlights, unwilling to give the major’s security team any advanced warning of their tail. When the minivan had appeared, all three of the Alliance men had known immediately it was an ambush.

“Pull over… now!” the ex-Green Beret had yelled at the driver.

Grim, Moses, and Nick hadn’t even waited for the Humvee to come to a complete stop before they were opening the doors and piling out into the rain.

Alastair reached into his pocket, producing a syringe of clear liquid. He slapped the man on the ground again, needing to be 100% sure they had their target. “What is your fucking name?”

“Beckworth,” replied the recovering victim.

Alastair nodded at Eris and then stabbed the needle into the major’s thigh. “He’ll
be in la-la-land in 10 seconds. Let’s go.”

The operative checked on his prisoner, noting the major’s eyes were now rolling white. “He’s out. Help me get this fat ass up,” he said without looking at his partner. Alastair lifted one of
Beckworth’s limp arms, positioning his knees to take the weight. When Eris didn’t appear, he turned back toward his partner and looked right into Nick’s rifle butt as it accelerated toward his head.

The world went black.

The specialist escorting the consultants hadn’t been prepared for the evening’s activities. When his passengers returned carrying three unconscious, bound, and bloody men over their shoulders, his hands had started to shake. He was sure his short military career was over.

After dumping their human cargo on the ground next to the Humvee, Nick searched each man’s pockets. Only the body identified by Grim as Major Beckworth produced any contents.

Sorting through a ring of keys, a wallet full of now-useless credit cards and IDs, Nick finally focused on a folded letter removed from the major’s breast pocket. Using Grim’s flashlight, the two men began reading an order from the Commanding Officer - Memphis Regional Garrison, dictating one Danforth Cornwall Beckworth report immediately. It was signed by a General Husk.

“Who’s General Husk?” Nick asked the specialist.

“He’s the divisional commander,” the nervous driver answered, “He’s the top brass in this area.”

Nick grinned, star
ing up at Moses and Grim. “Well, I say we don’t want the good major to miss his appointment. Let’s take our new friends to the HQ and see if the general can help us sort this all out.”

No one could offer a better alternative.

Thirty minutes later, the specialist pulled up to the outer ring of barbwire surrounding what had once been a federal courthouse, now occupied by the US military. After a quick exchange with the MP on duty, they were allowed to proceed to the second set of barriers where the security became more vigilant.

The duty officer wasn’t going to let them pass, regardless of
the letter Nick produced or their concocted story about an automobile accident. After a call to his superior and then another up the chain of command, they were finally given the go-ahead. After checking their weapons with the MPs, they drove into a dimly lit underground parking garage.

Eris was coming around,
his moaning indicative of a smashed nose and several busted teeth. The other two prisoners were still out cold. As Nick easily hefted Beckworth on his shoulder, four men approached the parking area, their boots slapping the concrete with obvious haste.

“I’ve brought along a medic,” a voice boomed. “How badly are they hurt?”

“Not bad, sir,” Nick responded to the man with two stars on the lapel of his fatigues. “I think they’ll all be coming around soon. This man had been sedated, not injured.”

Before Nick could lay his cargo down,
another newcomer moved a few steps into the light. Staring at Nick, he said, “I know you. What the hell is the commander of the Alliance forces doing in Memphis, Tennessee?”

“Hello, Colonel. I was getting ready to ask you the exact same question.”

There was quite the crowd standing outside what had been holding cells for the myriad of federal courtrooms on the floors above. Alastair and Eris were receiving medical attention while two burly MPs stood watch. Both men were surly and uncooperative, both refusing to even provide their names. Beckworth was still out, lying quietly on one of the jail’s sparse bunks.

“Alright, would someone please fill me in on what the hell is going on?” General Husk
asked after everyone had settled down.

The Colonel looked up with a stern expression on hi
s face. He put his hand on the general’s shoulder, guiding him a few steps away from the others. “Really, George, you don’t want to know. Trust me on this. I think you should let me handle this situation from here and go back to running your command. I’ll make sure none of this sticks on you.”

The
general officer started to argue with his old friend, but then thought better of it. “If you say so, Colonel. You’ve never been one to fuck anybody over.”

“We go back all the way to West Point, George. These prisoners are just the tip of a shit iceberg, and I don’t want to see one drop stain your spotless record. I’ll cover it with the president – no one at the Pentagon even need know.”

Nodding, the general signaled his agreement. “If you have time, stop by my office later. One of my aides rummaged up some pretty good brandy and a few so-so cigars. It would be good to revisit better times.”

“George, before you go, one last favor. Can you send your best JAG investigator out to where this ambush took place and re
trieve the major’s security men? I’m most interested in the bullets you’ll find in their bodies. I think forensics will match those to the ones taken from the massacre at Chambers Valley. The report should be labeled for my eyes only.”