Oath to Defend (23 page)

56

The white Interceptor patrol cars drove through the twisting lanes of the Sunriver Resort with their flashing lights warning vacationers along the way that an emergency was in progress. When the convoy reached the airport, Drake took the lead and drove out onto the airport apron to Casey’s Bell Relentless helicopter. He skidded to a stop mere feet from the aircraft. As Casey jumped out of the Porsche, Drake thanked the deputies for the escort to the airport.

“Our pleasure, sir,” the senior deputy said. “We don’t get to drive this fast very often. Where are you flying to? Does this involve the explosion at the polo match?”

“We think it does, but that’s all I can say right now,” Drake said. “If we’re right, you’ll read about it tomorrow. Thanks again for your help.”

Casey had already done his visual inspection of the helicopter and was now going through his pre-flight checklist when Drake joined him on the flight deck.

“Buckle up, buddy,” Casey said. “This baby’s ready to fly.” The five-bladed, main rotor system started turning overhead.

As he took his seat, Drake took a close look at the all-glass instrument panel in front of him. The four twelve-inch color display screens reminded him of the cockpit in an F-35 stealth fighter.

“Does this thing fly itself?” he asked.

“Almost,” Casey said. “Call Liz and get the coordinates for the dam and I’ll show you.”

As the two eighteen-hundred horsepower GE engines lifted the helicopter off the ground, Drake called Liz to get the coordinates. When he repeated them to Casey and they were entered into the state-of-the-art avionics system, Casey pointed the Relentless toward the distant mountains and sat back with a broad smile on his face.

“We’re flying at 150 knots per hour,” he said, “it won’t be long now.”

“How fast is that?” Drake asked.

“One hundred and seventy-three miles per hour. We’ll be there in twenty minutes. What’s the plan when we get there?”

“Simple. First we find a place to land. Then we stop the bad guys from using the bomb.”

“Your planning still sucks.”

“But the execution of said plan will be a thing of beauty,” Drake said. “You’ll see. What weapons do we have here?”

“What my team carries; four HK416 assault carbines, four Glock 21s, and my Remington M24 sniper rifle.”

“That’ll do,” Drake said. “Let me check in with Larry and see how they’re doing at the polo field.”

Greene’s report wasn’t what Drake hoped to hear.

“Including Vazquez,” the former L.A. cop said, “there are twenty-seven dead and twelve who are critical and probably won’t make it. The EMTs are triaging another forty or so injured and traumatized. This is worse than some of the suicide bombings I saw in Iraq.”

“Did you find anything in Vazquez’s trailer?” Drake asked.

“Nothing except his cell phone and a change of clothes in the sleeping compartment at the front of the trailer.”

“Find Paul and give him the cell phone. Ask him to find out who Vazquez was talking to here in Bend. If this is a suicide mission for these guys on the Harleys, the leaders have to be somewhere close unless they’ve already bugged out.”

“Got it. Where do you want me after that?”

“Stay with Paul and help Liz if she needs anything. When we find the nuke, we’ll need someone coordinating our role in all this with law enforcement and the feds. I don’t want us spending the next month explaining how we found the nuke when the government couldn’t,” Drake said.

“Good luck with that,” said Green. “When you make the government look bad, you become the enemy.”

“That’s why we need to keep our names out of this. Make sure Liz gets the credit. She can say it was her hunch that the nuke was headed to Oregon. DHS won’t argue with her story.”

“I hope you’re right. Good luck at the dam.”

“How bad is it?” Casey asked Drake, who was staring at the mountains ahead.

“It’s bad,” he said, “thirty-nine dead or dying and another forty wounded.”

“What a sick, twisted way these guys fight a war.”

Speeding toward what both men hoped would be another chance to stop the killing of innocents by an enemy they knew all too well, their minds flashed through other grisly scenes they had witnessed.

“Do you think we’ll see the end of this war in our lifetime?” Casey asked several minutes later.

Drake sighed. “We won’t ever defeat evil. All we can do is kill as many evil-doers as we can, starting with these pukes today. Are the weapons in the rear storage locker? I’m feeling the need to have a gun in my hand right now.”

“Rear locker, right side. Lock and load them all. The dam is ten minutes away.”

57

Cresting the Cascades southwest of Bend, Casey flew the Relentless five hundred feet above a dark green carpet of Douglas firs. Dead ahead, the waters of the six thousand-acre reservoir behind the dam shimmered silver reflections of the afternoon sun. The reservoir, which was seven and a half miles long, controlled the runoff of a three hundred ninety square mile drainage area.

“That’s a lot of water,” Casey said.

Drake finished loading their armory. “I’ve fished there,” he said. “The earthen dam is fifty years old. It’s not hard to understand why it’s their target. Follow the highway and look for those Harleys. If we get there first, find a place to land so we can surprise them. I want to be sure they have the bomb and intend to use it here before we do anything.”

Drake moved forward, tightening the straps of the drop-leg tactical holster on his right thigh and took his seat. “The area around and above the dam is heavily wooded, as I recall. You may have to set down on the highway beyond the dam and let me run back.”

“I’ll find some place close,” Casey said. “We’ll do this like we used to, together. You’re not going it alone.”

“Only if I have to,” Drake answered as he began searching ahead with the binoculars he’d found in Casey’s gear bag. “Head north just a bit. I think we may be in luck. There’s a clear-cut area on the top of that ridge above the dam. If you can set down there, it’s only a couple hundred yards or so down to the highway.”

The Relentless swung right and approached the logged-off top of the ridge.

“Looks like they’ve cleared the brush and slash for replanting,” Casey said. “I should be able to set it down on that flat area at the top of the slope.”

Drake was searching the highway to the east. “I don’t see the Harleys,” he muttered. “I’ll try to get to the dam before they get here. Get as close as you can and then cover me.” He pulled the shoulder strap of his HK416 over his head and positioned it across his chest as he prepared to jump out of the helicopter as soon as it touched down.

When Casey landed the Relentless in a swirling cloud of dust and debris, Drake moved to the door behind the flight deck, opened it, and jumped down to the rough and uneven logging site and took off running down the slope.

When he reached the trees at the edge of the clear cut, he saw that the ridge sloped precipitously for a hundred yards to the highway below. Reaching out to the rough bark of the fir trees to slow himself, he ran a slalom course between the trees until he started to outrun his feet. With a lunge to his right, he slammed against the broad trunk of a tall fir and stopped, only ten feet from the edge of a twenty-foot drop to the roadway below.

Taking a deep breath, he moved laterally to his right around the sharp drop-off, and then surfed down a loose gravel embankment to the edge of the highway. When he regained his balance, he ran toward the dam, which was a hundred yards away.

~~~

Casey was almost at the edge of the clear cut when his cell phone buzzed. Stopping briefly under the branches of the first tree he reached, he listened as Montgomery reported in. His voice was barely audible over the roar of the Yukon as it raced on the road to the dam.

“Mike, we have four Harleys in sight, two hundred yards ahead of us. Four bikes and one’s pulling a small trailer.”

“How close are they?”

“Well, we’ve driven three miles along the reservoir. I’m not sure how close to the dam that makes us.”

“You’re half way to the dam,” Casey said. “Keep them in sight, but don’t close in yet. Drake’s on the highway running back to the dam. I’m on a ridge overlooking the dam. Let’s make sure the dam’s their target before we act.”

“Roger that. We’ll hold back until you tell us to engage.”

Pocketing his phone, Casey ran diagonally through the tall trees until he reached a point at the edge of the drop-off directly across from the dam. He unslung his sniper rifle and looked through the lens of the scope at the scene below.

The spillway of the long dam was near the highway. The control building was fifty feet on the other side of a razor-wire fence. Running along the fence was a small gravel parking lot large enough for a car to pull off the highway or a service truck to turn around and head back down the mountain. There were no cars in the parking lot right now, and no Army Corps of Engineers employees visible through two windows facing the fence and the highway.

Looking east, he spotted the four motorcycles half a mile away and heading toward the dam. They were riding single file, with the bike towing the trailer third in line. As he watched, the first two Harleys pulled beside each other, as if they were motorcycle officers leading a funeral procession. With a grim smile—
your funeral, guys
—and a quick glance back to the west, Casey saw Drake slow to a walk as he entered the parking lot and continued toward the gate to the control building. The assault carbine was hidden from view by his right leg.

Casey phoned Montgomery.

“Billy, there’s a small graveled parking lot at the dam. Drake just got there. He’s at the west end. I’m on the hillside above with my M24. Pull off the highway and get out and stretch your legs. Wait until they make the first move. Once they’re down, secure the nuke.”

“Roger that. Do we know if the thing is armed?”

“No, but they probably wouldn’t drive all this way with it armed. If it’s hot, we’ll think of something. Pray to God it isn’t.”

Explosive ordinance disposal was the deadliest job in the military, Casey knew, and it wasn’t something he wanted any part of, especially if this particular ordinance was a nuclear device.

He focused his rifle scope again on the convoy of Harleys and watched as it neared the dam. When the four motorcycles reached the parking lot, one of the lead Harleys rode on to the west end, stopping behind Drake. Another pulled into a position at the east end. The Harley pulling the trailer pulled up next to the gate in the razor-wire fence that led to the control building, and the last Harley stopped beside it, shielding it from the view of passing motorists.

Casey watched Drake approach the Harleys near the gate and greet the two men with a casual wave of his left hand.

58

Drake looked at the two men sitting on their Harleys. Neither had dismounted, which would give him an advantage when they recognized him, as they surely would.

The only sounds he could hear over the rushing water in the dam’s spillway were the crunch of gravel under his Nikes and the clicking of the motorcycle engines as they cooled. Neither man returned his greeting, even when he came to within fifty feet of them. Their eyes were hidden behind the tinted visors of their matte black motorcycle helmets, and their gloved hands still gripped the handle bars in front of them.

Then, as both men slowly reached back with their right hands to the saddle bags on their Harleys, Drake knew he’d been recognized. When the man closest to the highway brought up a Micro-Uzi, he was sure of it. The little submachine gun, with a magazine of twenty nine-millimeter rounds that could be fired at a rate of twelve hundred and fifty rounds per minute, was one he was familiar with. He had to smile at the irony of its being in this Muslim terrorist’s hand. The Uzi had been a favorite of the Israelis before it was phased out.

Almost faster than thought, Drake raised his HK416 and fired two rounds into the chest of the first terrorist to draw on him, knocking him off his motorcycle. Before he could swing his weapon toward the man on the other Harley, the man’s visor flashed red as he was knocked sideways off his motorcycle. Casey’s shot from the hillside had penetrated the side of the man’s helmet and exploded his head, killing him before he could level his Uzi at Drake.

Spinning around, Drake saw that the man at the west end of the parking lot was gunning his Harley in his direction. He fired four rounds at center mass and saw the rider jerk as the rounds struck him. The Harley came on, even as its dead rider tumbled back onto the gravel, and crashed into the razor-wire fence, where it slid sideways in the gravel before coming to rest.

That left the man fifty yards away at the east end of the parking lot. He was now crouching down behind his Harley, which blocked a shot from either Casey or Drake. All Drake could see was a bit of the man’s left shoulder.

Looking for a way to make the shot, he suddenly saw the white Yukon pulling slowly off the highway behind the crouching terrorist. When the man raised his head to see if the vehicle was a threat, Casey took the shot from above, killing him with another headshot.

Drake made sure the four men were dead before he walked to the small trailer that had been towed behind the black and silver Harley Softail. Painted black with red flames on the rear panel, it was the type of lightweight cargo trailer he’d seen pulled by motorcycles before. Seven feet long, four feet wide and almost four feet high, it was big enough to hide an atomic demolition device.

What Drake didn’t know was if the trailer was booby-trapped or rigged to explode if the locked hatch was opened. There was a single keyhole at the rear of the trailer. It was in the nose cavity of a chrome skull and cross bones ornament.

Gonzalez and Montgomery sprinted across the highway and stopped on the other side of the trailer Drake was studying.

“Before we have a motorist wondering why four dead bodies are lying on the ground here,” Drake looked up and said, “bring the Yukon over and hide them in the back. Then we’ll see if this trailer’s holding the nuke Liz is looking for.”

While the bodies were being stowed away, Casey traced Drake’s path down the ridge and jogged to his side. “Now what?” he asked.

“Now we wait for Ricardo to show us how much of his explosive ordinance training he remembers.”

“I’ll get the emergency tool kit in the Yukon,” Casey said. “He’ll need some tools. While I’m doing that, you might want to explain what just happened to the guy watching us from the window in the control building. He’s on his phone.”

“Tell Billy to go see him. He hasn’t seen Billy shoot anyone.”

Drake got down on his hands and knees to look for anything suspicious under the trailer. The sidewall substructure was made of one inch by one inch tubing that probably housed the wiring for the turn signals and brake lights on the trailer, but there didn’t appear to be anything added to the bottom of the trailer that didn’t belong there.

As he was standing up again, Casey returned with the tool kit, Gonzalez right behind him.

“I don’t see anything that screams ‘bang, you’re dead’ if we open it,” Drake said. “But you’re the expert.”

“If there’s a nuclear device in there,” Gonzalez said, “I don’t think whoever planned this would risk letting one of these nut jobs blow it up when they forgot how to defuse a booby trap. You guys stand back and I’ll open it up.” He pulled a large flathead screw driver out of the tool kit Casey was holding open for him.

Drake and Casey quickly stepped back as he looked carefully at the keyhole at the rear of the trailer. Inserting the head of the screwdriver into the nose of the skull, he hit it hard with the palm of his hand and twisted the screwdriver hard to break the lock.

The strut-activated hatch opened slowly.

Drake and Casey stepped forward again, and the three men saw the brown canvas transport container of a Special Atomic Demolition Device with Cyrillic lettering on it.

“I’ll be damned,” Casey said. “I knew one of these would make it here one day. But I never thought I’d be there to see it.”

“Is it armed, Ricardo?” Drake asked.

“No, these SADMs require an arming device that has to be attached with a timer. This timer,” he said, as he removed it from a pouch on the front of the canvas container. “It’s not attached. We were lucky, though. They could have armed this thing in a couple of minutes.”

“And then what?” Drake asked. “How were they going to blow this dam?”

“If they did their homework, they probably found a spot out on the dam they figured would cause the dam to fail when this thing went off. Break through the fence, kill anyone in the control building, set the timer, and get out of here.”

Gonzalez brought the arming device closer to his face to inspect it. The size of a baseball, it had a set of rings used to set the delay time.

“Only they wouldn’t have made it off the dam,” he said with a grin. “These rings are set at ‘Instant.’ And they won’t turn. As soon as they attached the arming device, it would have detonated.” He paused. “It looks like whoever sent these four out didn’t want them coming back.”

“It was a suicide mission,” Casey said. “Well, I’m glad we helped them with the suicide part.”

“I’d better let Liz know we got here in time,” Drake said, taking out his cell phone. “Mike, see if you can convince the guy Billy’s talking with over there to let DHS handle this. Liz might have a team on the way, and I’m sure she’ll want to limit local law enforcement involvement as much as possible.”

“On my way,” Casey said and gave him a two-fingered salute.

Drake smiled and walked to the side of the Yukon and leaned against it, where he took a moment to breathe deeply through his nose and relax his muscles. The adrenaline dump was still racing his heart and raising his blood pressure. He was familiar with the boost his body had given him in the face of danger, and he also knew how to ride out the return of the neuropeptide Y level in his brain to normal. After a minute, he found Liz’s number in his contact list and waited for her to answer.

“We got it, Liz. It’s a Russian atomic demolition device. We also have four dead terrorists in the back of Mike’s Yukon.”

“Are you all right?”

“No casualties here. Just a nervous Corps of Engineer employee we’re trying to calm down. You’ll want to let him know everything’s all right before he gets the state police up here.”

“Will do. I’ve just borrowed a new Lakota helicopter from the Oregon National Guard and a DHS team from Eugene is on its way. I’m coordinating the operation to recover the nuke from here with the governor’s office. We’re trying to keep this out of the press.”

“You should be able to,” Drake said. “The four of us here at the dam are the only ones who know what we’ve recovered. You might have to create a story about the four dead terrorists, though.”

“I’m working on it. The massacre at the polo field is being linked to drug traffickers and a cartel dispute over drug routes to Canada. We could say the four at the dam were tracked down by undercover operatives whose names will not be released.”

“Thanks, we don’t need any publicity.”

“You’re welcome. Before you go, the Secretary says thanks, job well done, and Larry needs to talk with you.”

Drake heard Green being called over the noise of what sounded like a hastily assembled command center.

“Drake, I worked with your friend Paul and the Bend PD,” Green told him. “We traced calls on Vazquez’s phone to the hangar house at Sunriver. Calls were made from there to Vazquez at the Pronghorn Resort and a number of calls to someone at Wyler Ranch. That’s gotta be where they ran this operation from.”