Viper Team Seven (The Viper Team Seven Series Book 1) (29 page)

Thursday, March 20
^th
– 1530 hours

CIA Headquarters, Langley, Virginia

“They’re what?”
Senior Watch Officer on Duty Max Wilbert asked the lead CIA agent who was
following the terrorists.

The voice on the
other end of the phone line didn’t hesitate for a second. “Mr. Wilbert, the two
terrorists my teams have been following seem to be converging at the same
place. It might be a while before we know exactly where they’re heading but
we’ll keep you informed.”

In his
frustration at the lack of information, the watch officer crumpled the paper in
his hand that was from the folder marked “TOP SECRET.” Then after he realized
what he’d done, he smoothed it out and set it back in the folder resting on his
desk. He was dutifully sifting through reports from the El Paso Intelligence
Center (EPIC), on the whereabouts of the terrorists. Wilbert already had the
answer to that, but EPIC didn’t know that the CIA knew where the terrorists
were. They probably never would.

“You have any
hint as to where they’re going?” Wilbert demanded. “I need a rough guess. Is it
going to be an upscale part of the city? A crowded part? North, south, east,
west?”

“It’s too early
to tell, Mr. Wilbert. We just don’t know.”

“I need to
know.”

“What do you
want us to do? We’re forced to go at the terrorists’ pace – which is pretty
fast actually.”

The watch
officer paused as he debated what to tell this lead agent to do. He knew that
the agents could easily capture and question those two terrorists now that they
were alone, but how would it affect the rest of the plans if they did?

“Just keep
following and don’t let them know you’re there,” he finally decided.

“We could capture
these guys and question them, Mr. Wilbert. It’d be easy.”

“Do as I say.”

“All right,
we’ll keep following. I’ll keep you informed.”

“Yeah,” Wilbert sighed. Then he hung up the phone and dialed the D/CIA.

*          *          *

Parks hadn’t
been to Biggs Army Airfield in years, or any part of Texas for that matter. And
now, as he felt BIG BIRD begin to descend toward the runway, he wished he could
be here for more pleasurable reasons.

“Buckle up,”
Thomas instructed. “We’re landing.”

Parks strapped
himself in and waited for the thud of the wheels hitting the runway.

After the
monster C-17 hit the pavement, it coasted for several thousand feet before
finally slowing to almost a stop. It then taxied in front of its assigned
hangar.

Parks unbuckled
his seatbelt and walked over to the hatch just as Thomas reached it and opened
it. Parks stepped off the plane onto the tarmac, and looked around. He noted
that everything was set up just as it had been when he had left a few years
ago. Forcing himself to concentrate on the task at hand, he glanced up into the
sky. An atypical El Paso thunderstorm was brewing, making the sky black. The
thunderheads threatened to burst at any moment. Thankfully, however, the wind
had stopped.

Just then, a blue-black
18-passenger van screeched to a halt. A plain-clothed agent of some sort shut
it off, exited the driver’s seat, and walked up to Parks. “Are you Major
Parks?” the agent asked.

“That’s me.”

“I’m Joint
Terrorism Task Force Agent Scott Rice. I was ordered to take you and your team
to the El Paso Joint Terrorism Task Force Field Office.”

“Okay great.
Give us a minute, we’ve gotta load the equipment in the van,” Parks ordered.

“Yes sir.”

“
Let’s pack
her up,
” Parks yelled back to his team. “We need to get moving.”

Obediently and quickly,
the team began to load everything into the van. Time was very important and
Parks didn’t want to waste a second of it.

When everything
was finally ready to go, Thomas walked over to Parks. “We’ll put this bird in
the hangar and wait for you to get back. Make it soon if you can, a big storm’s
coming, sir. Oh, and good luck.”

“Roger that,
Senior Airman. Thanks,” Parks replied.

Thomas reentered
BIG BIRD and Parks turned towards the van. After he rechecked the equipment,
and then checked it a third time, he was certain that they had everything they
needed.

“Don’t worry,
KP, everything’s loaded,” Corley spoke from somewhere behind Parks. “We’re
ready to go when you are.”

“Oh now you’re
saying KP? Is that like some kind of contagious nickname?” Parks asked in good
fun.

“I just hear
Solomon say it, so I figured that’s the thing to call you,” Corley explained
innocently. “Is that bad?”

“KP is fine,” Parks
assured, secretly wishing Corley would address him as “sir.”

“All right then,
KP
, everything is loaded.”

Parks cranked
down his hat and simultaneously said, “Good, then let’s get out of here. We
don’t have much time.”

Everyone loaded
in the van and Parks sat in the front passenger seat as Rice took the wheel.

“I’ll explain to
you guys about where we’re going,” Rice started as he gradually began to pick
up speed. “I’m taking you to the El Paso Joint Terrorism Task Force Field Office.
The JTTF is an elite counterterrorism group comprised of several different
agencies, and led by the Federal Bureau of Investigation and Justice Department.
In truth, there are dozens of fulltime agency and department members, such as the
FBI, ATF, Secret Service, Marshals Service, Department of State/Diplomatic Security
Service, Immigration and Customs, Border Patrol, U.S. Army, U.S.A.F., the Navy,
and the CIA, just to name a few. I’m sure you guys have all heard of JTTF, but
I’ve been told to explain again just in case.” Rice sped down a side street and
continued. “JTTFs are small units of specialized, local investigators,
linguists, analysts, and intelligence personnel – again just to name a few
things. All the equipment the agencies need is funded by the FBI. Now, we
operate in a hundred cities and we are based out of fifty-six FBI Field Offices
and ten smaller offices around the Country. Sixty-five of our JTTFs were formed
after the terror attacks on 9/11. And our membership has soared to more than
four times what it was before those attacks, bringing the number almost to four
thousand. That’s pretty good for having the first JTTF created in New York City back in 1980.”

“JTTFs
coordinate operations, and so forth, through the National Joint Terrorism Task
Force which works out of the FBI Headquarters at Quantico, Virginia. The NJTTF
was created in July 2002 to be a coordinating device with the FBI and its
partners. NJTTF manages the large-scale projects that demand several partners
to be involved. You could call it the ‘command center’ of the JTTFs.”

“But all that explanation is nothing. When you get there, then you’ll
really see something.”

*          *          *

Siraj was the
first one of the group to make it to the sleeper’s house. It had taken him far
longer than he had expected. He was weary and his legs threatened to give out
at any moment. He slipped his backpack off and unzipped it as he walked to the
front door. Inside the pack, he saw his pistol, just where he had placed it. It
was out of sight, but nearby just in case something unexpected was on the other
side of this door. Cautiously, he knocked.

Even though it
was dark, Siraj didn’t have his goggles on, for fear it would draw too much
attention. But now, as he peeked through the glass in the center of the door,
and saw a figure approach, he wished that they were on. Since it was so dark,
and a street lamp was too far away, he couldn’t tell whether this figure was
armed or not. The uncertainty of that matter and also the doubt of who this really
was, could prove dangerous.

The deadbolt
unlocked with a click, and Siraj jumped back. Then in a flash, the doorknob
turned and the door itself swung open. The little man who had opened it
instantly beckoned him inside.

“Where are the
others?” he asked Siraj when they were both inside with the door locked.

That’s when Siraj whipped out his 10mm and pressed it against the man’s
forehead.

*          *          *

“Who are you?”
the little man questioned without a trace of fear in his voice.

“Who are
you
?”
Siraj countered, gripping his pistol tighter. “And you would invite someone
into your house without knowing who that person was?”

“I thought I
knew who you are. Maybe I do. What is your name?”

Siraj was not
going to give out his information until he was sure that this man was indeed
their sleeper agent. “I’ll talk after you tell me who you are and who you
thought I was.”

“I am Mahmoud Zafir,
Mr. Siraj – assuming that’s who you are,” the man said boldly.

Siraj was not
convinced. “What is your line of work, Zafir? Who do you work for? And when I
came in, why did you ask, ‘where are the others?’”

Zafir smiled. “I
work for Alka vun Buvka. I am a sleeper agent, and I was told by Mr. vun Buvka
to expect ten men on or around this date.”

“Who are those
ten men?”

“You and your
team,” Zafir responded slyly. “Where are they?”

Finally
satisfied that this really was the sleeper agent vun Buvka had lined up for him
and his men, Siraj lowered his gun. “They will be here. We ran into trouble.”

“What kind?”

“It’s too long
of a story. Do you have what I came for?”

Zafir nodded.
“That and much, much more.”

“And a vehicle?”
Siraj pressed, anxious to get things ready.

“And a vehicle.”

“Then what are
we waiting for? Let’s get things loaded.”

The sleeper
agent laughed scornfully. “It’s loaded. Has been since yesterday. The vehicle is
where it needs to be. It’s ready to go when you are.”

A knock at the
door silenced both men. Turning to it, Zafir boldly opened it without a second
thought as to who might be on the other side.

The man standing
outside the door looked wary and unsettled when the sleeper invited him in, but
when he saw the familiar face of Siraj, he relaxed.

Two present,
Siraj thought to himself.
Six left to go.

*          *          *

Finally, the van
arrived at the JTTF Field Office and Rice quickly led the team inside. Parks
didn’t even get a chance to glance around before Rice tugged at his arm and told
him to follow him to the conference room.

After the team
was ushered inside, Rice exited the room and closed the door.

“You must be
Major Parks,” a large-faced man stated. “I’m Edd Somers,
special-agent-in-charge of this whole kit and caboodle. Pleased to meet you.”

“That’s great,
Mr. Somers, but we really haven’t got much time for formalities I’m afraid,”
Parks replied as nicely as he could.

“Oh believe me,
Major, I know.” Somers then turned to a man seated at the large, oak conference
table. “Gordon, will you set up the image?” he asked.

In the next few
seconds, the Viper Team Seven was seated, and a satellite image was broadcasted
on a large screen.

“Google Earth
makes some good images, huh?” Somers threw out. Without waiting for a response
he barreled on. “One of the CIA teams tracked one of the terrorists to this
house,” he explained.

Parks saw a red,
laser dot – guided by Somers – work its way to a large house in a crowded
neighborhood.

“Zoom in will
you, Gordon?” Somers commanded. “We believe this house belongs to the sleeper
agent. So naturally that’s where the operation will take place. I think it’s
worth noting that it’s a two-story home.”

“Did the other
terrorist the CIA team was following go to the same place?” Solomon wondered
aloud.

“We haven’t
received word to that nature yet, but we do know that two of the terrorists are
in there – one that the team was following, and another they weren’t.”

Parks could see
the fine details of the house now. It had a small backyard with a low, rock
fence, a large driveway, and most importantly, sizeable windows on the west
side of the house that would serve as a great way to get the CS gas grenades
inside.

“Here are the
directions,” Somers declared as he slid a piece of paper over to Parks. “It’s
not too awful far from where we’re at now.”

“Great,” Parks acknowledged as he grabbed the paper. “Now all we have to
do is wait for the other seven.”

*          *          *

Only one man had
not been accounted for at the sleeper’s house. Eight of the nine terrorists
were present, and the one that was missing was the wounded one. Siraj and his
men were ready to go and he was not going to wait for a man that would do him
no good and was probably not going to show up at all. Zafir was insisting that
someone was coming after them and was all but pushing them out when someone
knocked on the door. Zafir answered it and when he came back into the living
room, he was helping the wounded terrorist.

“Give me a
hand,” he bellowed to Siraj. “We’ll put him on the table in the dining room.
Get
me some hot water,
someone
.”

Every command
was obeyed and Zafir turned on the overhead light and looked over the
bloodstained leg.

“It is bad,”
Siraj confirmed. “He’s of no use to us. You keep him.”

Zafir spun
around and glared at the terrorist leader.

“And no one will
be suspicious while I am housing this Arabic man with a shot leg? What’s wrong
with you, Ghazi? Have you lost your mind? My safety is very important to myself
and to vun Buvka. If it wasn’t for me you wouldn’t be here. This cripple is
yours and you’ll take responsibility for him.”

Siraj flipped
out his pistol that was pushed in his belt and held it close to Zafir’s face.
He really had no intention of shooting the sleeper agent but he had a false
hope that maybe the action would intimidate the sleeper enough to keep the
wounded man.