Viper Team Seven (The Viper Team Seven Series Book 1) (28 page)

“Everyone is
here, Mr. President, sir,” Parks announced as his team seated themselves in
front of the screen that held the President’s face.

“Good, let’s
begin.” Winnfield adjusted in his chair and started what he called a “send off”
speech. “Each and every one of you knows his job and knows it well. Not a
single one of you needs to be told what is needed and expected from you. You
all are the most elite counterterrorism personnel in the United States. You can feel proud to be a part of this team – you earned that right. But now, I am
asking for more than your usual best. I am calling on all of you to give the Country
more than what even you think you can do. I am asking for a hundred and one
percent of your efforts. I need you all. I am counting on you. I am placing the
lives of innocent, civilian Americans in your hands, and I know all of you can
keep them safe. That is why you all are here. You’re here to keep our nation
safe from terrorism, and if need be, die for that cause.”

The President
stopped and cast his eyes to the floor. “I am honored to speak to you seven
men. Every one of you deserves immense respect, because every day you wake up
and go to work you are offering your life.” Parks hadn’t thought of it that way
before, but now that the President was mentioning it, he knew it was true.

“I have every
faith in you men,” Winnfield continued. “I know you can do this. May God bless
you in this mission.”

After that,
every screen went black. It was time to start Operation FIRST FIGHT.

Thursday, March 20
^th
– 1300 hours

BIG BIRD

“Let’s go over
this one more time,” Parks said to his team who were all aboard the C-17 – BIG
BIRD. The video conference had left Parks with a mission-type order – a very
specific mission with the latitude to accomplish it. “Take out the terrorists
at all cost,” was the President’s order. “Any way you have to,” was the generic
part. However, a basic plan was laid out, and now Parks was running over it
with his team for the third time.

“We’ll land at
Biggs Army Airfield, and upon arrival we’ll load all of our necessary equipment
into a vehicle that the JTTF Field Office will provide for us. Believe me,
there won’t be much gear. From there, we will head to the JTTF Field Office to
look at the latest intel of the sleeper’s location. When we find out everything
there is to know, we’ll move out. When we reach the sleeper agent’s house,
we’ll park a safe distance away and pass out the rifles and other equipment. Then
we’ll storm the house.”

Parks looked at
each and every member of his team, trying to read their thoughts. “The Marines
have a thing called a ‘Commander’s Intent.’ All that is, is a very simple
outline of what determines victory. Should the commander die, or if communications
are severed, the second-in-command knows exactly what needs to be done.” Parks
saw Norse shake his head in frustration with all of the military jargon.

“My Commander’s
Intent is as follows: take out
every
terrorist.
All
of them. With
whatever force necessary.” The plane jolted and Parks paused for a second. “I
don’t need to tell you that not one of them can escape. As the President said,
lives of Americans are in our hands.”

“Anyway,” Parks
continued, determined to focus on victory, “for the third time, here’s the
battle plan. We will break off into two teams; Solomon, Marler, Corley and Lee;
and Norse, Samuels, and myself. My team will be equipped with CS gas grenades
which we will fire into one of the house’s windows with a launcher. That will
most likely draw all the terrorists into the same room because they’ll want to
know what’s going on. Believe me, they’ll be in no condition to fight when that
CS gas hits them. To top things off, my team will then join with Solomon’s at the
front door. Solomon, you’ll need to bust it open, then we’ll throw some concussion
grenades down their throats. After that we’ll all go in and find the terrorists.
When we do, we’ll open fire with our carbines and take them out for good.”

Parks was sure
of the damage the CS gas would bring to the terrorists. He had experienced some
during his Marine training and had felt the excruciating results. CS gas, or
scientifically known as 2-chlorobenzalmalononitrile, was one of about fifteen
different tear gases, and it was classified as a non-lethal weapon, although
upon contact, nothing could feel further from the truth. It was discovered in
1928 by two American scientists, Ben Corson and Roger Stoughton (the name CS
gas derived from the two men’s first letters in their last names). The effects
of the gas were horrific. Immediately upon exposure, the victim’s eyes would be
forced shut and tears would begin to pour in a futile attempt to flush out the
gas. Thus the term “tear gas.” The gas would leave the victim’s skin with a
burning feeling, although it really would do no harm. Along with the flowing
tears, the recipient’s nose would begin to drain uncontrollably with mucus.
Dizziness and restricted breathing could also be a result of CS gas, and
depending on the caliber of the dose, severe coughing and vomiting. All effects
would wear off in a matter of minutes if the victim could get out of the gas.
So the real purpose of CS gas was to knock the enemy off balance, and
neutralize them for a short period of time.

The concussion
grenades that would be used were also a tool to unbalance the enemy and shake
them up. In this case, it would be the final punch before Parks and his team
actually came face-to-face with the terrorists.

Parks also knew
that unlike the drill, each man was issued an M4 carbine for a weapon instead
of the Remington sniper rifle which would not be effective in such a close-range
battle. The M4 was the carbine version of the M16, and it was chosen for the
mission for its lighter weight and better maneuverability in close combat
situations. However, the Remingtons were brought along for any potential long-range
operations. Additionally, each man would have a sidearm just in case the
unexpected occurred.

“Each man will
be equipped with a gas mask to protect you from the CS gas,” Parks went on.
“After we bust open the door and throw in the grenades, we need to get out of
the ‘fatal funnel’ so we can take out the terrorists with our M4s. Hit anyone
you can – except your buddy of course.” The statement brought weak smiles to
some faces but no one even managed a chuckle. “The fatal funnel is probably
going to be the most dangerous part. We want to be silhouetted against our
entry point for as short a time as possible. The terrorists might try and keep
us pinned in the funnel, but we all need to enter the house fast so that none of
us are stranded in there alone.”

Parks knew how
dangerous Close Quarters Combat (CQC) could be and how operatives needed to
make quick, sometimes hasty, decisions that could mean life or death. “You all
know how to fight in CQC so I have every confidence that each man will do his
job. Our orders are to take out these terrorists.
All
of them.”

“After we’re sure
all the terrorists are neutralized, we need to evacuate the place as fast as we
can and get back to Biggs. The El Paso Police will then come to the site and
clean up the mess while the FBI will come in and investigate the house and
bodies, and so forth.”

Parks looked
over at Solomon and finished his briefing. “My Commander’s Intent: take out
every terrorist. Any questions?”

“Yeah,” Corley
said. “When do we land?”

Parks turned and
walked over to Thomas who was sitting up near the pilots, trying his best to be
oblivious to the top secret plans being discussed. When he saw Parks, he shot
up to attention.

“Take it easy, Senior
Airman,” Parks allowed. “How far away are we?”

The crew chief
looked down at his watch. “If all goes well, two and a half, three hours, sir.”

Parks thanked
him and told his team the information, then sat down in a seat next to Thomas.

“Where do you come
from, sir?” Thomas asked as he leaned back in the seat and tried to relax.

“Duty station
you mean?”

“Yes sir.”

“Camp Lejeune in North Carolina.”

“I have a friend
who’s stationed there. He’s a gunny – Zhao Zhou.”

Parks nodded his
head. “Yeah, I remember him. He was in my company. I just left the command eight
days ago, how could I forget? He’s a good Marine.”

“Yes sir,”
Thomas agreed. Then he added, “You must be a ‘baby’ major then, because the last
time he talked to me he referred to his company commander as a captain.”

“Yeah I’m a nine-day-old
‘baby’ major. I received my promotion the day I got orders for this assignment.”
Parks switched gears. “You ever been to El Paso?”

The crew chief
shook his head.

“I was stationed
at Fort Bliss for a while,” Parks began. “I worked at JTF-North – J3, which did
all the special operations for counterterrorism, counter-drug, and such. It was
a pretty good job, only I hated being on an Army base.”

“I can imagine,
sir. Have you ever been stationed overseas?”

“No,” Parks admitted.
“I’ve been in combat three times but never been stationed outside CONUS.”

“Neither have I.
I’ve never even been in combat. My uncle was though. He fought in the Gulf War,
War on Terror, and all that good stuff. He just retired from the Navy as a rear
admiral. When I was finishing high school he kept on trying to get me to join the
Navy but I didn’t want to be a sailor. I wanted to fly, to be a pilot, and not
for the Navy either. Well, my eyes ruined that dream. Anyway, I joined the Air
Force and here I am. Fun, fun, fun, huh?”

In reality Parks
thought that military life
was
“fun, fun, fun” so he said so. “I think
that there’s no better life than a military man’s. I could never do anything
else. I mean, I’ve got three generations of Marine Corps runnin’ through my
blood, and I couldn’t get it out even if I wanted to.”

“Your dad was a
Marine?” Thomas questioned.

“
Is
a
Marine,” Parks corrected. “Once a Marine, always a Marine, you know?”

“Yeah sure, I
know the Marines carry a lot of pride,” the crew chief told him. “No other
branch of military, agency, or anything else even comes close. I’ll give you
that.”

“I know it. We
have the best traditions, discipline, initiative, and pride. Our motto is ‘The
Few. The Proud. The Marines’ for a reason.”

The senior
airman sighed. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

Parks didn’t
want to answer but for the sake of politeness and killing time, he did. “I had
an older brother. He was killed in Desert Storm.”

“Was he a Marine
also?”

“No, he was a
Green Beret. Poor guy was only in his twenties when he died.”

“Must have been
a big age gap between you two,” Thomas pressed.

“It didn’t
matter,” Parks countered as he began to relive unhappy times. “It didn’t matter
at all. I was only about eight when I heard that he was killed, and now,
twenty-four years later, I still wish...” Parks let that go.

“I know how you
feel, sir. I lost my little daughter a couple years ago and I still don’t like
talking about it. The only difference between our losses is that
someone
is to blame for your brother’s death, not for my daughter’s.”

“Meaning?” Parks
wondered.

“Meaning sir, that
I can’t imagine what you felt like doing to the man that killed your brother.”

Parks looked at
the floor. “I was eight years old, Senior Airman. Most eight-year-old boys
don’t scheme a vengeance plan – leastwise not one that would work very well.
Anyway, I’m not mad anymore. I still have a place in my heart for my brother,
but I’m not bitter. There’s just nothing anyone can do about it. I can say that
I am very proud that he gave his life for our country.”

“I understand
sir. I only wish my daughter had the privilege of living as long as your
brother did.”

Parks agreed and then excused himself before he walked back to join his
team. Only a short amount of time now separated them from Operation FIRST FIGHT.

*          *          *

The weather was turning
stormy. It definitely was not the kind of weather Parks wanted to fly in, but
no one aboard BIG BIRD had any choice. They had a job to do, and if the weather
cooperated, great, but if not, things would still have to move forward.

They were only
about an hour away from Biggs, and Parks could feel butterflies in his stomach in
anticipation of what lay ahead. For Parks, the scariest part of operations was
the unknown. He wasn’t sure if he would be killed, wounded, or unharmed. Of
course the last possibility was always the one he preferred but it wasn’t
always what happened.

Parks looked
around at his men. He was as nervous for them as he was for himself – more
actually. He knew that if any one of them were killed it’d rest on his
shoulders. He was the leader and the one responsible for
everything
that
occurred. Parks hated to think that he might have to attend one of their
funerals and look at the faces of that man’s family members and know that he
was responsible. Now that he was thinking of it, he didn’t even know who was
married and who was not. He knew that Solomon was single and Norse was married
but other than that he was clueless.

“Gettin’
nervous?” Norse suddenly asked Parks.

“Somewhat. I
guess a little bit of nerves are good.”

Norse ran his hand
through his hair. “Some people say nerves prevent you from thinking clearly and
quickly,” he retorted.

Parks knew that
the statement was meant to make him feel stupid and incompetent but he let it
roll off him – for now anyway. “Well, good, bad, or indifferent, I’ve got ’em,
so I’m just gonna have to live with them,” Parks stated, looking at Norse’s
icy-cold face and wishing he could slap it off.

Parks knew that
Norse was a troublemaker and that he was acting like a jealous kid. He also
knew that eventually Norse would get the team into trouble. Parks realized that
he needed to straighten him out or quite possibly someone could be seriously
hurt.

The plane rocked
violently in the wind and forced everyone to grab onto something for stability.
Parks hoped with all his might that the weather wouldn’t get any worse,
especially since he had such a delicate operation to perform.