Viper Team Seven (The Viper Team Seven Series Book 1) (31 page)

“Greg, I sure hope your FBI is all it’s cracked up to be,” he declared
meaningfully. “Because if it’s not, we have just lost the terrorists.”

*          *          *

The FBI and El
Paso Police were swarming in and around the sleeper’s house. Photos were taken,
perimeters were set up, and a highly specialized team of FBI agents were
literally ripping up the place trying to find the escape route. It seemed like
they were trying to find a needle in a haystack. It could be anything,
anywhere.

Reporters were
loving the incident. It was hitting headline news everywhere. No journalist or
TV correspondent was allowed into the house or within several hundred yards but
they were pressing every policeman and agent they could find for any bit of
information. The answer to their questions was always the same. “If you’ll
excuse me please, I’ve got work to do.”

The truth was,
no one that was asked knew what exactly had happened. That was the way it would
have to stay too. Only the FBI team that was searching for the escape route
knew what had happened, and their knowledge was limited.

Special Agent-in-Charge
Somers had just arrived at the site and was looking over the bodies when the
lead agent of the search team came up to him.

“Mr. Somers, can
I have a word with you?” the man asked in a surprisingly low and calm voice.

“Yeah. Where do
I need to go?”

The man turned
around and headed down the hall, then walked into a room on the left side that
looked like a laundry room.

“Mr. Somers, we
wanted you to see how bizarre this was. It was a one-in-a-million find.”

Somers looked
and saw that four side-by-side tiles were ripped out of the floor by the
washing machine. A dark, narrow, escape tunnel loomed right in front of his
eyes.

“It probably
gets larger after you squeeze through the entrance,” Somers suggested. “In
order to know whether it does or not, you’re going to have to go in.”

The agent looked
back at Somers and then to his team. “Let’s go guys,” he said, dread filling
his voice. “I’ll lead.”

The agent went
down, feet first. When he was down about ten feet the tunnel cut straight
across and opened up to about eight feet high and at least two feet wide. Carbine
in one hand and flashlight in the other, the agent crept along, scanning the
walls for any possible offshoot tunnel that the terrorists might have used.

The tunnel
snaked around and after a while, it shot straight up again. Standing on one of
his men’s shoulders, carbine slung over his shoulder and flashlight shoved in
his belt, the agent squirmed as high as he could go. But it wasn’t high enough.
He kicked off from the shoulders and jimmied his way up by pushing against the
sides of the tunnel. At last his head hit something hard and he wedged himself
in so he could have a free hand to hold the flashlight while shining it on the
unknown object.

When the light
hit the object, he noticed that it looked like some kind of metal lid. When he
pushed upward on it, it didn’t budge. Perplexed, he crawled higher up and pushed
against the lid with all his might. It gave way slowly and he managed to shove
it aside. He now had a clear path out of the tunnel.

He turned off
his light, wiggled out of the tunnel, and rolled right until he was behind an unknown
object that he hoped would protect him. Then he readied his carbine and flicked
on the flashlight. It looked like he was in a building of some kind. It was
rather run down and there was only one door and window. The cement flooring was
cracked and chipped, and when the agent felt the walls, they appeared to be
wooden.

After completely
scanning the building with his light, he crawled over and poked his head down
the tunnel to let the others know that it was safe. One by one his team came up
and joined him.

“I’ll go outside
and see where we are,” he offered in a low voice. “You guys stay here and cover
me just in case.”

The agent kicked open the door and cautiously looked out. Confident that
nobody was outside, he stepped out and found he was in a neighborhood only a block
down from where the sleeper’s house was located.

*          *          *

Stressed, Somers
was back at the JTTF Field Office pacing in his office. He had notified all of
the border checkpoints surrounding El Paso to look for any men that matched the
given description of the terrorists. With it, he had sent the one picture of
the terrorist that had been obtained by the PMI. Nothing had come in yet.

He had ordered
his agents to check with all of the surrounding neighbors to see if any of them
had seen anyone out of the ordinary, or any unusual vehicle around. So far
nothing had turned up that proved to be useful.

Somers’ desk
phone began ringing and he picked it up immediately. “Somers. Go,” he said
urgently.

“Mr. Somers,
this is Kirk Jordan, the lead agent of the FBI team that’s been questioning the
neighbors around the escape tunnel. Do you remember?”

“Yeah, yeah, go
on.”

“Well, we found
someone who said he saw an unusual vehicle parked close by his house. He didn’t
see anyone in it for a while, then he said that he heard its engine start. He
looked out the window and saw several guys in it. Apparently the vehicle headed
east.”

“What did he
describe it as?”

“Dark blue,
Yukon XL, brand new.”

“License plate
number?” Somers asked hopefully.

“Mr. Somers, this
man doesn’t work for the FBI. He just happened to see the vehicle, he didn’t
write the plate number down. We’re fortunate that he remembered as much as he
did.”

“Okay, great
work. And good job on finding that escape tunnel. Keep searching for more info
and keep me notified. Thanks a lot.”

Somers slammed
the phone down, then picked it up again and dialed the NJTTF. This was a national
crisis and things needed to happen that he didn’t have the authority to order.
So he’d just put it off on the NJTTF. He knew they’d handle it well.

Thursday, March 20
^th
– 2000 hours

Biggs Army Airfield

The U.S. Border
Patrol had alerted all of its checkpoints. They had been told to look for a
newer, dark blue, Yukon XL, heading out of El Paso. The Border Patrol
checkpoints guarded every major road that led out of the city, and the only way
for the terrorists to dodge those would be to take back country roads. Just to
be safe, the FBI had several vehicles patrolling on those major roads, for the
express purpose of spotting the terrorists’ vehicle. It seemed like the
terrorists’ window of opportunity was closing rapidly, but still, no one was
taking chances.

Parks had
already loaded all of his team’s equipment into an Army Blackhawk helicopter,
and he was ready to go wherever, whenever. The suspense of waiting was killing
him though. He was glued to his cell phone. Reports were streaming in
constantly, and he couldn’t wait until someone gave him the “go” sign.

“Hey KP,
everyone’s here,” Marler said.

Parks snapped
his head up and ended his phone call. “Good. Let’s get to planning then. We’ve
got a lot to do.”

The team
gathered beside the Blackhawk and Parks began to explain his simple, yet
hopefully solid, plan.

“What we’re
going to do is break into two teams – one on the right side of the road and one
on the left,” he started. “Solomon, Marler, Lee, and Samuels will be the
snipers. You guys will be on the left side of the road. Solomon, I want you to
lead them. You will be the point of contact. Got it?”

Solomon nodded.

“My team will
consist of Norse, Corley, and myself. We will be positioned on the right side
of the road. Solomon, your team’s job is to take out the driver, and as many
passengers as possible. My team’s job is to shoot rockets from SMAWs into the
vehicle to try and set off the C4. Now, Solomon will fire the first shot only
after the terrorists blow their tires on the tire strip we’ll have laid out.
After that, it’s fire at will. We cannot let these guys escape. Again, my
Commander’s Intent: take out the terrorists. Any questions?”

“Uh yeah,”
Solomon spoke up. “Are we setting up a one-way, one-lane tire strip, or are we
using a two-way, two-lane?”

“I’ve got an
Enforcer
type. It’s a two-way, two-lane that is remotely operated to where it can put
the spikes up and down on command. We’ll post a guard that will flip the switch
for the spikes to go up whenever the terrorists get close enough. Anyone else?”

“When we blow up
the C4, what’s keeping us from getting blown up too?” Norse pointed out. “There’s
a good chance of that you know.”

“We’ll be far
enough away not to be affected,” Parks explained.

“And if
traffic’s heavy what will we do about the tire strip?” Solomon asked shyly.

“If traffic’s
heavy, no tire strip. But let’s pray there’s no traffic around.”

More questions were asked as the team went over as many “what ifs” as
they could think of while they waited for the green light to move into part B
of Operation FIRST FIGHT.

*          *          *

Siraj looked at
his map and frowned. He knew there was supposed to be a dirt road that split
off from the main highway he was now on, but as of yet he couldn’t find it. He
realized that he was approaching the checkpoint rapidly, and he was hoping for
all he was worth that he would find his exit before he came upon it.

Siraj and his
men had decided that it would be better all around to take the back roads
instead of risking going through the checkpoint. Undoubtedly the Border Patrol checkpoint
guards were looking for them, and Siraj didn’t like those odds.

Suddenly, the terrorist
in the passenger’s seat tapped Siraj on his shoulder and pointed up ahead.

“There it is,”
he told his leader. “Thanks to Allah.”

Siraj vainly
tried to muster a pleased look as he sped up and turned onto the gravel road
that changed to plain dirt up further. He planned to shut off the vehicle’s
interior lights and headlights when they were parallel to the checkpoint, which
would allow them to pass unnoticed. If they were spotted on the dirt road,
however, their chances for living were even worse than if they had gone through
the checkpoint. So Siraj was taking every precaution he could to make sure that
his shaky plan didn’t completely fall apart.

“Be on the
watch,” Siraj ordered his men who were beginning to strap on their night-vision
goggles. “Let me know about anything you see.”

After driving a
while, they could see the lights of the checkpoint almost straight across from
them on their right side. Siraj turned off the lights and adjusted his goggles.
It would be hard to drive even with night-vision so he’d have to take things
slowly. That was fine with him. He was in no hurry to die, and the sooner he arrived
at San Antonio, the sooner he would be forced to die.

Without warning,
the headlights of a Border Patrol SUV came shining over a hill.

“
Look,
”
one of the terrorists yelled. “
Ghazi look
.”

“Be quiet you
fool,” Siraj countered. “I see it.”

The vehicle was
still a ways away and from what it looked like, the Border Patrol driver hadn’t
spotted them yet. Siraj figured he had about a minute to escape. But where could
he escape? He could try and drive behind one of the many sand mounds, but would
he get stuck in the soft sand? Should he stay and fight? He had more men than
what was in that single SUV, but he wouldn’t after backup was called for.

Siraj hastily
decided to drive behind one of the sand mounds. It seemed to be the only thing
that would give them even a small chance. He drove through the sand and parked
behind a large mound. He quickly shut off the engine but left the keys in the
ignition. Then he grabbed his pistol, made sure it was loaded, and waited, since
that was all he could do.

The SUV came
closer until it finally reached the point where the terrorists were located.
Siraj held his breath and gripped his pistol so tightly that he thought it
might break. Much to his relief, the vehicle did not decrease its already-slow
pace as it rolled by. Siraj watched until its taillights were not visible.

When he finally
felt safe, he turned on the engine and let out a long-held breath.

“That was too close,” he uttered, as he steadily stepped on the
accelerator. “Way too close.”

*          *          *

Parks’ cell
phone rang and he immediately answered it. “Major Parks.”

“Yeah, this is
Edd Somers over at the JTTF Field Office. We’ve found them.”

“Go on sir,”
Parks urged.

“They’re on a
back road, trying to skirt around a checkpoint. They would have gone by
unnoticed but one of the Patrol’s SUVs spotted them.”

“What’d they do
sir?”

“Nothin’
happened. The terrorists probably think the SUV didn’t see them. Let’s hope it
stays that way because it’ll give you the upper hand by having the element of
surprise.”

“Yes sir, but
where do we fly to intercept them?”

“They’re going
to end up on Highway 90 once they come off those dirt roads. Somewhere west of Del Rio will be the location where you’ll have to take them out. You got a plan of attack?”

“Yes sir.”

“It’d better be
good, because we’re counting solely on you.”

“I know sir,”
Parks assured, giving the thumbs-up to Solomon.

“Then get
going.”

Parks and Somers
ended the call and Parks quickly gathered his team into the Blackhawk that had
been waiting for them.

“We’re headin’
west of Del Rio,” Parks informed his team as he strapped himself in. “The
Border Patrol found the terrorists on a back road.”

“That’s nice. But
KP, did we have to take a Blackhawk?” Solomon moaned as he readied a barf bag.
“You know what helicopters do to me, right?”

Parks shook his
head. “No, but I can guess. You’ll be fine, just keep it in the bag, all right?”

Solomon shut his eyes and gripped his seat as the Blackhawk began to rise
into the sky. After it rose a few hundred feet, it leveled off and began
heading east. Solomon was keeping his eyes closed but Parks was looking out the
window into the black night, thinking about what could go wrong with his plan.
There seemed to be nothing that could, but in truth, there always was
something. He just didn’t know what yet.

*          *          *

The Blackhawk
touched down a couple hundred yards from the highway and dropped off the team
and its necessary equipment. Then it took off into the sky again and left the
team alone by the barren highway. Solomon’s team members had Remington sniper
rifles, Parks’ carried SMAWs, and each man had a sidearm, a radio, and night-vision
goggles. Parks went over the battle plans one more time just to make sure that
everyone understood everything.

“Solomon, you
and Eric go down and set up the
Enforcer
,” Parks commanded. “Base your
line of snipers on that tire strip, okay?”

“Okay,” Solomon
agreed.

Just as the two
took their first step to go retrieve the tire strip, lights from a car shone
over the hill. As the vehicle passed by the team, Solomon and Lee turned to
Parks.

“Do we really
need the tire strip?” Solomon questioned, pointing over his shoulder at the
vehicle.

Just as he
spoke, three or four sets of lights appeared on the road. The first car passed the
team, and then another, and another, and another.

“I guess we
don’t really need a tire strip then,” Parks nervously confirmed when the last
car passed. He knew that without a tire strip the terrorists would have nothing
that would stop them besides a bullet through the head. A lot more pressure
would be on Solomon to shoot the driver and stop the vehicle now that a strip
was not going to be used.

“Don’t worry, I
can handle it,” Solomon promised, just as though he’d been reading Parks’ thoughts.
“They won’t get away.”

“I sure hope
not. Every man needs to do his part or this plan’s going to fail. Does anyone
have any last-minute questions, concerns, or comments?”

A unanimous “no”
was the reply so Parks took his part of the team to their positions. Norse was on
his right, and Corley on his left, and each man was spaced about fifteen yards
apart.

After a few moments, Parks pulled out his night-vision binoculars. He put
them to his eyes and began scanning up the road, searching for any vehicle. As
far as he could tell, none was around, but he kept looking and tried to stay
awake. He was blessed enough to have this second chance to save the operation,
and he was not going to let anything go unnoticed. If he did, the entire
operation could be compromised.

*          *          *

The checkpoint
had been passed and now Siraj had a straight shot to San Antonio. He should
have been pleased but he wasn’t. He felt as though he was running into a trap
and was about to be caught and killed. He and his team were approaching the
border town of Del Rio, and there were still many miles to go before they
reached their destination.

Siraj knew that
he could easily jump the border into Mexico somewhere near Del Rio and then be
free to go wherever he pleased. The thought was alluring to him but the more he
pondered the ways that would allow him to do so, the more he realized it would
be an impossibility without the consent of his fellow terrorists. And there was
the catch. How would he get his men to agree with him? He knew they didn’t feel
the way he did; they wanted to carry out this operation. So how would he
convince them that going to Mexico and running away would be the right thing to
do? There was no way they would go for that unless vun Buvka ordered them to do
so. But vun Buvka wouldn’t do such a thing. Not unless he used them as sleeper
agents, and if he decided to do that, he would place them inside the U.S., not Mexico.

Then an idea hit
him. He could order his team to spread out across the United States and lay low until the U.S. slowed down the search for them. Then, when the opportunity
presented itself, they could carry out their own private operation. In doing
so, Siraj would buy himself several more months to live. And maybe if he played
his cards right, he could vanish and be done completely with terrorism. But for
now, he could spread his terrorists across America and then call vun Buvka and
explain the whole situation to him. It didn’t matter if his boss approved or
not. What could he do? Every law enforcement official, Border Patrol worker,
special agent, and almost every U.S. Government worker that carried a gun was
on the lookout for vun Buvka’s mug. If he dared to come into the U.S., he’d be found and killed before he could ever reach Siraj. In a way, the Americans
would be protecting Siraj without even knowing it – without even wanting to.

Now all he
needed to do was find a good reason to use such a plan. One that would not
rouse suspicion in his men. But didn’t he already have a good reason?
Practically every state and federal agent was watching for them. There was
really no way they could reach San Antonio. Somehow Siraj felt that the Border
Patrol SUV had really seen them and reported it. For some reason he still felt
that he was driving into a trap.

Without looking
at any of his men, he drew in a deep breath and blurted it out. “We will not
reach San Antonio,” he confirmed, not betraying the fear he felt. “Too many people
are looking for us. Perhaps someone has already seen us and knows where we’re
going. We are heading into a deathtrap and we cannot continue. The Viper Team
Seven lies ahead. I can feel it. We can turn and head west across state lines
and into New Mexico. That will allow us time to throw off all of those hunting
for us in Texas. From there, we can divide the C4, split off into different
places, and lay low until the Americans have forgotten us. Then we can fulfill
our own separate attacks with ease, unbeknownst to the Americans.” Siraj looked
at the terrorist in the passenger’s seat and asked, “Well, who is with me?”