Chuck (Monday)
When it rains it pours. That's the saying on the salt box, but it sure is true sometimes. Everything is happening at once.
Personally, the girls are all nuts about the new house being ready to move into this week. At least Lisa was able to get her momma and sisters moved into their new cottage quickly. She's so concerned that her momma is happy and getting along here, that she's totally distracted. Things should settle down for her soon.
The freaky five have gone over the hill lately. They have so many people working in the house that it's impossible for them to keep track of what's done and what isn't. I think Brandy divided up areas of responsibility to everyone and they're each just looking after their assigned section. I'm glad I have other things to do, a lot of other things.
John is in some kind of turmoil in DC and seems to need to constantly be out of there. He's asked if he could visit the house in Costa Rica. He was planning on taking his whole family, so he should enjoy his trip. The wives may be a little miffed at all the extra women running around, but the girls down there are pretty respectful. Who knows, perhaps John will partake of some strange down there. He wanted me to fly him, but I'm too damn busy to help. I did arrange for a charter and asked Beth to take John and family down. She loved the idea of being able to show off the place down there and to show John the yacht club and the boat.
A guy by the name of Mike Mahoney showed up to have a long talk with me about some of the activities I might be expected to help with. The biggest deal was his constant questioning of my political beliefs. I kept telling him that yes, I voted, but no, I was not involved in any activity that could remotely be construed as political. This was a time I was glad I had never registered as being a part of a political party. This was a good time to be an independent.
Mahoney went over the job Nightfox and I did in Hawaii in more detail than I would have expected. Then he brought out photos of the border thing that John and I did. He had some before pictures of the buildings, a couple of enhanced photos of the helicopter exploding, and then a photo of the wreckage, including the burnt down barn. He kept asking questions about the man we had encountered down there and then went on to talk about the other men that I had a part in terminating.
When he was done with our conversation, at least I thought he was, as he was putting things back into his briefcase. That's when he said to me, "I'm the staff psychiatrist and needed to interview you to be sure there were no adverse personality traits that could surface after the activities you've been involved in. You've handled them well and appear to be in control. The service needs men such as you for sensitive activities. Because of the demands they made from you, you probably won't get another job like that soon. There is no guarantee, but in all probability, you'll be used on dangerous activities, but not any direct sanctions such as you've been involved in."
He was just about to leave when he said, "I understand you have completed training to operate helicopters. Would you have any problems handling a mission that requires that ability from time to time? You've been on our equipment, would you like to fly them?"
I smiled and said, "Sounds like fun. I'm curious about the quiet helicopter we used in the southwest."
Mr. Mahoney said, "I think you'll be given the opportunity to check out in one of those soon."
He had some instructions about monitoring certain frequencies when I was flying, and if I should receive various text messages, a list of numbers I should call. He told me, "You'll probably be visiting us at one of our facilities soon, so be on the lookout for messages."
Then there was Bud Anderson and Jim Blake. They were following up leads in Texas and stepping on toes all over the place down there. They had chased some guy, a suspected escapee, back and forth across the border in El Paso and Juarez while trying to capture him. The problem seems to be that the Mexican police department is shielding the man even on our side of the border. The pair had run into some of the men that John and the Marshal had talked about that needed to be captured, but were heavily guarded by their own, and we now knew, by Mexican officials also.
Then this morning, Mercy is bombarding me with some kind of warnings that Steve could be in danger. What is that all about?
At the office, Wanda told me, "You're going to have to go to El Paso to help Bud and Jim. Homeland Security is having fits about your two superheroes capturing people on the other side of the border and dragging them back to our side. They've captured the same guy three times, and this last time, they won't even turn him over to the federal lockup because the guy keeps getting away. The local Marshal's office is in some kind of pissing contest with Homeland and the DEA because they think they should all be chasing the same bad guys."
I called the airpark to make sure the Phenom was available and ready. It took a few attempts to get hold of one of my girls to let them know I had to go out of town. Frieda said, "Please try to be back for Friday evening. Brandy really has her heart set on showing off the new place."
On the way home to get clothes, I was able to get hold of Maria to pack some clothes for me. She was so dependable and so sweet that I was going to miss having her around. You hardly knew she was there, but you saw what she had done. My clothes were always clean and perfectly aligned in the closet and in my drawers. To me, she was really worth a lot to have around.
I even loaded up my big gun case, since I had no idea what was really going on. I also packed my vest and some extra Glock magazines to be on the safe side.
When I parked my car and was hauling my suitcase and gun case to the plane, I saw a new addition to the exterior. There was a big cartoon character under the cockpit on each side. 'Deputy Dawg' was now painted on each side, but the dog had a Lone Ranger type mask on. Someone couldn't stand for an airplane around here to look like an airplane.
When I picked up the logbook from DeDe, she said, "Shawna thought your personal aircraft needed some distinction. You've really got her interest up with your crazy bunch out there, so she has to mark her territory in some way. You've been tagged, Chuck. Are you going to be gone long?"
"Don't know, DeDe, a bunch of craziness is going on, so who knows. If I have an idea, I'll let you know."
I was soon heading across the gulf at warp three. For me, that's only about 400 miles per hour, but it's faster than walking. I needed something faster, but everything faster, like the Citation X, required that second pilot. If a Citation CJ4 came around, I wanted that because it carried six passengers and could cruise a hundred miles an hour faster than this aircraft.
After setting down in El Paso, I rented a car and headed straight to the Marshal's office in the city. When I entered the office, Bud and Jim were sitting at desks, obviously writing some kind of incident report. The Deputy Marshal in charge was sitting on the corner of a desk, lecturing the guys about not being able to just cross the border at will, that they needed diplomatic permission to cross, and definitely could not drag prisoners back across the border.
The two men were busy and didn't see me, so I motioned for the Station Chief to come out to the hallway with me so I could talk to him.
As soon as we were in the hallway, he began, "Christ, Chuck, those two have broken so many laws, it's just nuts. They've kidnapped two men now, and have them stashed and won't tell me where. They say that they have these escapees, and I even know who they are, but I can't do anything because I don't know where they are. You have to get them to turn over the two men, Chuck."
I asked, "Isn't the one man they have the guy who escaped twice after they brought him in?"
"He didn't escape, we let him go because he was captured without a warrant and probably captured in a foreign country."
Holding up both hands, I said, "You don't need a warrant to apprehend an escaped prisoner. They are fair game. If you suspect they are armed, say goodnight, Gracie, because they can be shot on sight."
The man paled and said, "You can't do that. You can't just shoot someone. If you were to do that, the Mexican crazies would be shooting up El Paso in a matter of hours."
I said, "It's a good thing I'm not here helping, as I wouldn't hesitate to shoot if someone from across the border shot at me. We are charged to bring in escapees and to protect federal property and federal employees' lives. That's our job, that's what we get paid for."
The man said, "Well, I'll tell you what, I'm not bringing in any drug lord or cartel chief who might be threatening federal property. I'll shoot back if they shoot at me, but I'll try to be where they won't shoot. Now get those prisoners for me so I can get them home to their boss."
I told him to go back in and I would join him in a few minutes.
The regional office was now in Houston so I called to speak to whoever was in charge. Everyone of importance was in DC, so I called the Marshal and advised him of my problem. He promised to get the Deputy Marshal in charge of El Paso to make some quick changes so we would be doing the job we were supposed to be doing.
Inside the station, I greeted Bud and Jim and told them to get their stuff together, as we had to be leaving. The Station Chief was getting perturbed, but I told him, "Look, we'll just shoot them and put them into a dumpster some place. Don't worry; it'll just be a couple fewer guys we don't have to chase."
The man was on the phone, probably to DC, as we walked out the door. I told Bud, "Let's get your two men and fly them to the secure pen in Colorado. The prosecutors can do anything they want, but we will have brought in a couple of escapees."
Jim said, "Can that plane of yours handle one more? There's another guy that we really need to get. With the three of us, we should be able to take him. The guy has a half dozen guards around him all the time, but they're not too swift. Can we? It would be a good thing."
We stopped at their hotel, picked up their clothes, and drove down close to the border crossing. Bud said, "We'll park right up here where the car will be safe while we try to pick this guy up. If we have to shoot, use a silencer and be careful of all the people. Most are bad guys but some are just civilians caught up in the problems of these guys."
I put my silencer on the Glock and tucked it into my waistband. Bud and Jim had done the same thing and led me through a six foot wide opening in the border fence. There were no guards around, but there were a lot of people going back and forth. The only difference between here and the nearby border crossing was there were fewer questions asked here.
When we came to a group of buildings with a tall adobe fence around them, Bud said, "The guy we want is in there right now and should be coming out soon because he goes back across the border to see his girlfriend every day near this time. He'll come down this narrow alley with six bodyguards. Just put those guys down and we'll try to capture the escapee."
I asked, "That's it, just shoot them and try to capture the guy?"
Jim said, "They will all be carrying guns in their hands, so I don't know what else we're going to do. I don't want to shoot the escapee but it would be easier. Uh oh, here they come, and there's more than six today."
I said, "Jim, go ahead to the border and try to capture the guy when he crosses. Bud and I will try to take out the guards from the rear forward. That will keep the escapee in front of us. Hustle so you have time to set up."
I said to Bud, "You know the trick, no sound, no gun, just silence the ones from the back to the front. If they see us, start shooting."
The escapee and nine men walked past us fairly quickly. The alley was narrow enough that the men were single file. The last one through quietly fell with a broken neck as Bud let him down. The next one up had the same consequence, and Bud stepped up to the third man.
As I pulled the fourth man down, the next guy in line was saying something and turned in time to see his compadre fall from my hands. He yelled, but died from Bud's first silenced round. Between the two of us, men five through nine never got off a shot, but the escapee grabbed for one of the fallen men's Mac 10. There was no way out of it, and both Bud and I had to put rounds into the guy.
Bud said, "Quick, pick up all the hardware so it doesn't get back into the hands of more dealers and smugglers. I'll go back for the other four." Jim had seen the demise of the escapee and came running to help pick up the hardware strewn around on the ground.
While we picked up the guns, I cleaned the escapee's pockets of ID so we could write him off the wanted list. As we crossed back into Texas, people were going through the other bodies to get any money the men may have had. You could bet that their bodies would be stripped bare before the policia were ever called.
We dumped all of the guns into the trunk and went across town to a warehouse area. Bud and Jim had rented an air conditioned storage building to stash the two escapees. We brought them to the car and drove straight to the airport. We loaded everything into the plane while I made arrangements for ground services to fuel the plane.
While we were waiting for the fuel truck, I called to Steve who said there were possible escapees working in his Las Vegas and Reno stores. I told him I would get Bud and Jim to come up there to help him out.
Our first stop was Denver where we were met by a couple of Deputy Marshals who gladly took our two prisoners and took them to the nearby maximum security prison. I refueled again and headed to Las Vegas.
We were setting down, when I received a call over the frequency I monitored. "Eyes, this is Mother." I didn't reply quick enough and the call came again, "Eyes, this is Mother."
I replied, "Eyes."
"Upon landing, call the texted number for instructions, confirm."
"Call texted number for instructions, Eyes out."
"Mother out."
Shit, I needed to help Steve and Mercy, but something must be up. Damn, when it rains, it pours.
I had Bud go rent a car real quick so we could dump all of the guns at the local station. We would have to come up with some kind of incident report to account for the guns. Jim just grinned, "We'll be very creative. Those two characters we just dropped off will have some federal gun charges tacked on as well."
The two men took their bags and the guns while I explained that I had something else to do first. Hopefully, I would be back later today or tomorrow.
I called the texted number and identified myself. I was transferred to Mike Mahoney. He said, "I'll give you to the welcome committee when we're through, but we would like for you to come out today since you are nearby. You're moving around pretty fast, so you might be handy to handle a problem where you will be anyway. I'll transfer you to the welcoming committee."
A very husky female voice asked, "Do you have the uniform of the day with you?"
I laughed and said, "I've been carrying it since I needed it the last time."
"Good. Please turn off your transponder and take off from Las Vegas VFR and radio us five minutes after takeoff. When you land, change clothes so you'll be in uniform before you disembark from your aircraft. You'll be transported for a briefing. You may see an escort. Mother, out."
Instead of waiting to change, I changed in the aircraft while waiting for the fuel truck. I turned off the transponder and left Las Vegas, staying at about thirty-five hundred feet. Five minutes out, I did the "Mother, Eyes" and they did the "Eyes, Mother, go to heading such and such and turn to frequency such and such. Maintain four thousand feet until you are notified."
An F-16 was out over the left side, but no one was on the other side. I waved, he waved, and I was soon contacted with landing instructions. This time, the fighter landed behind me and followed me into the big hangar.
Inside, I shut down and opened the door. A man in fatigues greeted me and asked if it would be all right to inspect the contents of the aircraft. I said, "Sure, but I'm going to be with you."
He said, "Wouldn't have it any other way. Can I see your primary sidearm?"
I pulled my Glock, dropped the clip and ejected the round. It was then that I remembered I had not reloaded after the skirmish in El Paso, so I reached into my bag and traded magazines.
The inspector took the old magazine, pulled the remaining rounds from it, counted them, then put them back in. He said, "That was one of the items I was supposed to check. Here's your sidearm back."
While he looked through my clothes and other gear in the rifle case, I reloaded my Glock and chambered a round. I dropped the magazine and filled the round back into the magazine and re-seated it. The inspector watched my every move, probably to see whether or not I was safety conscious.
He said, "All done. It's interesting that you had fatigues with you this time. How come?"
"Since I don't know when I'll be seeing you guys, I thought carrying them would be smart. See, you called and I'm prepared."
"Yes, you are. You don't remember me, do you?"
I asked, "Should I?"
"Probably not," the inspector said, "I was on the team that was ahead of you when you got caught in that little community in Iraq. We couldn't get back to you right away, and by the time we got there, you had dragged that other man back to the vehicle and were able to get back to base. I'm sorry about your leg, but glad you lived."
"That wasn't one of my better days, was it?"
The man said, "No, but look at you today. You're not being kept back by what happened. Come on, you are to be transported to briefing room "C."
We took a golf cart through some tunnels and came to a set of double doors. Another guy in fatigues took me to a conference room where four men were already seated.
They all stood and greeted me. Not by name, but just 'hello, glad to meet you.' The spokesman said, "We don't use names, but when you need to address a specific individual you will have his ID number."
The four men bobbed their heads and smiled. I took a big drink from the bottle of ice cold water on the table and waited.
The man said, "Today, we want to familiarize you with our quiet helicopter, then brief you on a problem we have in Las Vegas. It is not a termination, but there is an element of danger. There is a man there that has a large quantity of explosives in his possession for no good reason. He needs to give us those explosives, or at least let us dispose of them. It's possible that he and his men may disagree with what we want, so that's where the danger comes in. It is imperative that these explosives be made harmless. If possible, take them into the desert and ignite them. Worst case is that you ignite them where they are stored, since our information is they are destined for large population centers. When you see them, you will know the extent of the problem."
Another man said, "We do not expect you to do this alone. Mr. Nightfox will be with you. You already have a working relationship with him. The two of you should be able to do this mission with little collateral damage."
The leader continued, "After your familiarization with the chopper, we will give you the files for the mission. Mr. Nightfox should be here by then. You can prepare at that time."
The four men stood and one said, "If you are hungry, we can go to the cafeteria, and if you're not, let's proceed to the helicopter."
I finished off the bottle of water and followed the men out of the room. We traveled back through tunnels into the big hangar. This time, there was a group of four helicopters setting at one side of the hangar, opposite my aircraft, the F-16, and a small business jet that looked like the Eclipse we had in Tampa. This place was busy.
I was introduced to the "Instructor" pilot. No name, no rank. He smiled at me and said, "My call sign is Mouse. I can get anywhere and I am sneaky."
My laughter was a great ice breaker. He chuckled and introduced me to the rest of his crew. He said, "Some missions you will fly with another pilot, but there will always be a door crewman who will be manning a door gun. Show me what you know how to do as far as preflight inspection of a Huey and I'll show you what to look for on our bird. This is a specially modified Bell UH-1N. It handles just like your Bell 210 — same rotor system — but you'll see that the tachometer has two engine needles instead of one."
I did my usual inspection which was close to a post flight inspection. The tail rotor gear box looked funny, as if it was not properly aligned, and I checked it from a couple of different angles. I asked, "It that mounted correctly? It doesn't look right."
The pilot said, "We'll check it later, keep going." I found the collective was loose because of a nut that had worked its way loose. As I checked the upper transmission housing, it was obviously loose too, so I got down and said, "This bird isn't going anywhere, so if you have one that isn't sabotaged, let me inspect that one."
I didn't rush through the next one, but the bird was perfect. Everything was as it should be except that it was damn near out of fuel. When I pointed it out Mouse said, "The fuel truck is right over there, go ahead, refuel it."
I checked the fuel truck to make sure it had the correct 'Jet A' fuel and that it wasn't a dual fuel truck. You are supposed to ground the truck and the helicopter before fueling and the crewman already had the ground strap ready. I fueled up the aircraft and put the truck back in place. After giving the aircraft a last short check, Mouse explained the unusual rotor blades on the helicopter. These blades kept the noise of the blades within a very narrow area. They didn't silence the rotors but kept the noise within a directional area. Everything else worked the same on the aircraft so I was ready.
Mouse had me sit in the right seat and observed everything I did. As the turbines spooled up, the big doors of the hangar slid open. The sensations and sounds of this helicopter were no different than the 210, with the exception that this Huey had twin turbines.
I was directed to raise, hover, then slide out the doorway. Once out, I was told to request runway access and takeoff instructions. Everything was fine until I looked for an aircraft designation. Mouse said, "You are who you are; in the air, on land, in the water, I'm Mouse, you're Eyes. Just call Mother and ask."
After takeoff, he had me fly from the desert into the low foothills. He wanted to stay low, never getting much over fifty feet. I said I was concerned that I might not see high tension wires or an unlit tower. Mouse said, "This aircraft has a collision avoidance system second to none. It'll see anything out there that might cause us problems."
In a few minutes, he said, "See that little depression, set it down on the far left, next to the rock wall. We're going to wait for the other chopper and play tag." Mouse had a small radar unit that he was watching and he pointed it at a bogey that became sharper and was obviously searching a grid. The grid passed over the area we were in, but we were in a big shadow about twenty feet from a sheer rock wall.
We watched as the helicopter flew over us and headed for a tree line and bluff to the north. Mouse told me, "See if you can stay in his blind spot, then see how close you can get before they know you're there."
I stayed even lower to the ground than I had before, and kept getting closer and closer, until I was almost underneath his tail rotor. Mouse said, "Gain altitude quickly and give access for the gunner to red light him."
We ascended quickly, as I pushed on the left pedal to swing the helicopter around and gave the door gunner a straight line of fire. He lit up the door gunner on the other chopper and actually caused the pilot to wobble a little as he was surprised by the laser pulses into his cabin.
Mouse and Red Dog had a conversation and we set down on a big rock while Red Dog went to hide. Mouse said, "See if you can spot him without using the infrared sensor. They will hide similar to the way we did, then try to sneak up on us. We'll see how your senses are."
I focused on the other bird trying to get a feeling of where it was. I still had Red Dog's voice in my head and used it to think hard to find the man. Amazing, I could actually almost hear him think. He kept saying, these trees are perfect, but I can only come out in one direction. He'll have to pass over in just the right direction or I won't be able to surprise him.
It was uncanny; I knew exactly where he was and headed in that direction, looking for a way to get the advantage. There was a small hill just on the other side of where he was sitting. I flew over him relatively fast, but as soon as we were out of visual range, I turned to head around the hill and sat in wait behind it. I said to Mouse, "He was in the trees back there. He'll be coming out of the trees about now and we'll sneak up on him the same way we did before."
Mouse said, "I didn't see him, did you?"
"Yep, and sensed him too. Watch now, there he goes, in a straight line trying to catch up. We'll sneak up on him while he's trying to catch up."
I flew low again and had to rise to get under his tail rotor, then rose quickly to let the door gunner fill the cabin with laser light. All that came over the radio was, "Shit, where the hell did you come from? Christ, did you see me?"
Mouse said, "Let's go in. I think this was good enough, do you agree Red Dog?"
"No shit, let's go in, you got me twice."
As we approached with Red Dog leading, the big hangar doors opened and both helicopters were guided to landing spots. I set the chopper down and shut down. When I began to check the helicopter for the post flight inspection, Mouse said, "The crew chief will get that. You don't have to. Come on, Red Dog owes you a Coke."
We were taken back through the tunnels to the cafeteria, where we had a Coke and a sandwich. While we were talking, the man who had spoken for the group of four came in and said, "Are you ready for your other briefing?"
I got up, said goodbye to the other two pilots and crewmen, and followed the other man to the briefing room.
Son of a gun, Sam Nightfox was sitting at the table. He got up when I came in and offered his hand. He said, "I told you we would work together again. I think this may be a good thing. You're the first partner I've worked with that I wanted to work with again. Wait till you see what they have for us this time. It's going to be fun."
Sure it is. There's nothing fun about explosives.
Three more men came in with various folders and sat across from Sam and me. The leader handed each of us a file folder and began briefing us about where the explosives were being held, and the physical size of the quantify that was there. This was not to be taken lightly, as this was case after case of some kind of explosive called Iregel 1135P. They didn't tell us how stable or unstable the explosive was, but said it could be safely moved.
Considering the quantity of explosives, I was curious as to how two men could move it. We were looking at the overhead photos and then some close up surveillance photos, when Sam asked, "Are any of these tractor trailer rigs empty? Are they there all the time?"
One of the men said, "There have been multiple rigs overnight at the warehouse since we began surveillance. These trailers parked by the fence are all empty, and the trailers in the doorways are either being unloaded or loaded. We have confirmed that drivers are not allowed to remain in their trucks overnight. The night guard staff is all that is on duty between ten at night and six in the morning."
Knowing where Sam was going, I asked, "Can we get a couple of truck and forklift drivers?"
Sam was with me, and added, "We'll neutralize any security, disable their cameras, use forklifts to load the explosives onto trucks parked for the night, then get them out of town. If we need to further neutralize other involved participants, we can come back and do it, individually or collectively, depending on how they get together."
The leader of the four-man group said, "Your mission is to secure the explosives. If you can get them out of their possession, that will be all that is needed from you. Another team is being deployed to begin terminating other participants of this group. Because our intelligence is incomplete as to how many other participants there are, we need to move the explosives so others cannot set them off. Considering the quantity of the explosives, the explosion would level about twenty square blocks of industrial manufacturing and warehousing."
Sam repeated his request, "Can we get a couple of truck and forklift drivers?"
Another of the men asked, "Have either of you driven either a forklift or truck?"
I said, "I've done both, but only limited and never a big tractor trailer rig. Considering how critical time is going to be, we need to have two forklift drivers to load the trucks quickly. We also don't know if other merchandise will have to be moved in order to get at the explosives."
The four men huddled and then said, "We'll provide you with two men with both forklift and tractor trailer driving experience. They will not be extra offensive men, only workers. Will that work?"
Sam and I were both nodding. I said, "That's what we'll need. Sam and I will clear security before calling the drivers in. If we can help, we will, but we should probably be maintaining our own security during the loading. Where do you want the explosives delivered?"
One of the men brought out a map and showed us where, then showed an overhead photo of a deep depression with a road leading into it. "This will be where we can set off the explosives without damage or collateral losses. When you have delivered the trucks, helicopters will pick you up and the trucks will be blown up with air strikes."
Sam said, "When can we do this? I would think the sooner the better, so no one has the chance to split off any of the explosives and use them in smaller bombings."
The men said, "We will have your two men ready in an hour. Are you mentally prepared to do this tonight?"
Sam and I looked at each other, and I searched into his thinking. He didn't care and was looking forward to working with me. I smiled and said to the group, "Let's get this show on the road. We'll do it this evening. I'll plan on taking off in an hour."
The men said, "We'll leave you alone for a few minutes. If you need supplies, there will be a team assistant outside the door who will take you to supply or to your aircraft."
Sam and I discussed what we might need. We both agreed on silenced MP5s, rope, grapple hooks, duct tape, anti-personnel tie-wraps, binoculars, radios, and knives. I suggested some darker apparel and face black.
We rode a cart to supply and drew two backpacks with the equipment we wanted. I thought it was neat that they had camouflage duct tape. When we asked about darker clothing, the supply guy said, "One of you go into the shadows over there and tell me you need something else. These fatigues turn dark in the dark."
Sam stood in the shadows and the only thing I could see was his eyes. I did the same for Sam and he was in agreement that our apparel would be good. We checked out some armor and combat vests to hold our gear and extra MP5 magazines. The supply guy had us do a fingerprint scan to check out the rifles, and said, "If you have a place to keep these safe, retain them. If you need ammo or magazines, call and we'll ship FedEx."
Before we could leave, the supply guy said to me, "Here is your company credit card. Any equipment you need in the field, or expenses incurred while working for us, should be put on this card. There will be no need to fill out an expense report. We'll know what you were doing. Ask Nightfox, he'll tell you we don't bitch about eating well either."
Sam said, "Come on, Eyes, let's get out of here. We need to be in place to watch these people shut down this evening."
The team assistant took us out to the hangar and dropped us and our equipment at the aircraft. I began doing a preflight, making sure the fuel had been topped off, while Sam went through the interior of the aircraft. As I was finishing, a cart delivered two men with small gym bags. When I approached them, they each opened their gym bags and displayed a shaving kit, a change of clothes, an armor vest, and a Glock 21.45 caliber pistol, with two extra magazines. One of the men said, "We're not complementing your part of the mission, but we do defend our team when we are out."
I smiled and shook both of their hands. Sam came out, checked their gym bags, smiled, and repeated my gesture. Before we loaded up, Sam gave out the radios and we checked them to make sure they were working. We each transmitted and made sure we were receiving. I said, "We're ready, let's go."
After loading everyone and making sure they had their seatbelts on, I shut the door and slid into the cockpit seat. In a couple of minutes, I was taxiing through the hangar doors on the way to the runway behind a follow me truck.
"Eyes, Mother."
I said, "Eyes."
"Cleared for takeoff on runway 27. Surface temp 84 degrees, clear, unlimited, and calm. Remain under four thousand feet to Las Vegas and remember to turn on your transponder as soon as you set down. Good luck."
The heat required a little longer takeoff roll, but we were soon on approach at Las Vegas. As we touched down, I flipped the switch on the transponder and rolled out to taxi to the federal tie down area. I used the ground support frequency to call for our ground transportation.
An ugly green Chevrolet Malibu four door was pulled up next to the Phenom. The driver assisted the fuel truck driver, and then they both left. We made sure we each had the equipment we needed and stashed it in the trunk of the car. Using a built in GPS, we drove to the industrial area where we located the warehouse and yard we were interested in.
We made a circle of the building that took up the entire block and found a parking spot between some trailers across the street from the loading area. Using binoculars, the two drivers, Sam, and I charted where all of the security cameras were. We found only two blind spots, but both would make access to the back of the building easy. It appeared there would be enough room to squeeze between the end of the trailer and the open doorway to the warehouse. We would need to make sure we were inside the warehouse before they closed all of the doors for the night.
Sam and I agreed on our two approaches and as it got dark, we put our face paint and surgical gloves on, and suited up. We double-checked that we didn't jingle, and had the drivers drop us at each end of the building. As Sam stepped out of the car, he nodded to me. I could sense in Sam that he had total trust and faith that the two of us would complete this mission without mishap. Strange how I can sense such things.
When we were at the other end of the building, the light over the doorway was out, making my entry so easy that it was almost comical.
Primary editing by Pepere
Proofing by Sagacious
Additional Helicopter Knowledge by Rotorhead
Last one through — Deenara2000