The Army Comes Calling (13 page)

     “Have all of you fired your weapons before? Do you know how to use them?”

     He looked around, then at Marty.

     “Marty, do you have wheels to take the prisoners to San Angelo?”

     “We’re gonna put ‘em in the back of my rig, under armed guard. That way nobody will be able to see them, and hopefully won’t fire into a trailer where they might take out their own men.”

     Good thinking. Okay, to everybody, make sure you’re locked and loaded when you head out. Don’t point your weapon at anything you’re not planning to shoot. And for God’s sake, be aware of whatever is behind your target at all times. You don’t want to miss your target and fire into a house full of kids or take out one of your teammates. Understood?”

     Everyone understood.

     Frank took Marty aside to go through the targets.

     Frank, Bryan and Mark would take Willaker. By all accounts, he was the worst of the bunch.

Chapter 21

     Willaker was rumored to sleep at a house on Maple Street, on the west side of Eden. Frank and his team would be among the last to head out.

     As each of the three man teams departed, Frank watched them one by one. They seemed to have the resolve they needed to complete their missions.

     The trouble was, even with seasoned SWAT teams and professional police officers, raids sometimes went horribly wrong.

     He kept looking at his watch, waiting anxiously for his team’s time to go, all the while listening for gunshots in the distance.

     And praying he didn’t hear any.

     The streets were quiet in Eden in the early morning hours. Frank presumed that the gangs stayed up swilling booze and doing drugs until all hours. They probably slept until noon every day.

     Bad for them. Good for Frank and the good guys.

     Marty’s teams went quickly through the small town’s streets, darting from one parked car or stand of trees to the next. Marty noticed a little boy peeking though a window blind as he and two others made their way past the boy’s house. Other than that, he saw no one.

     Frank and his team stayed until last, giving everyone else a chance to take up their positions. Each of them listened for the sound of gunshots, and a call for distress that would abort all the other missions and send everyone running to help.

     One by one the teams called in.

     “Team four, in position.”

     “Ten four. Don’t go until ten hundred hours.”

     “Team one, in position.”

     “Ten four. Don’t go until ten hundred hours.”

     “Team two, in position. Let me guess… you don’t us to go until ten hundred hours.”

     Sarah smiled.

     “Good guess.”

     It was nine fifty, and the house Willaker was believed to be holed up in was five minutes away. Bryan kissed Sarah goodbye and the three stole away.

     “Be careful you guys,” Sarah called out after them.

     Then, in a lower voice only she could hear, “I love you, baby…”

     At nine fifty five, they called in.

     “Team three, in position.”

     “Ten four. All teams, go on my signal unless you lose radio contact. Then go at the appointed time.”

     Sarah never took her eyes of her watch as the final minute ticked off. As the second hand swept past the twelve, she keyed the microphone and said, “It’s show time, guys. Go, and be careful.

     Across the small town of Eden, the same scenario played out at four different houses. And a lot of people held their breath.

     At their target house at 210 Maple Street, Bryan hid on the east side of the house. Mark hid in the shrubs on the west side. Frank approached the front of the house from the north, but stopped before climbing the steps.

     “Hello in the house!”

     For a full fifteen seconds there was dead silence. Frank got a little nervous. He could almost feel a weapon aimed at him from behind the sheer living room curtains. The fine hairs on the back of his neck stood up and he said a silent prayer.

     Again, “Hello in the house!”

     This time a sleepy voice yelled back.

     “What the hell do you want?”

     “I heard you have women to trade for whisky and smokes.”

     “Who the hell told you that?”

     “Word gets around.”

     “How much whisky you got?”

     “Two pallets. Ninety six cases. And twenty cases of Marlboro Reds.”

     “That’s a lot to trade, mister. What do you want in exchange?”

     “Two women for me and my buddies for a week.”

     “How do I know you’ll bring ‘em back?”

     “You don’t. But then, how do you know you won’t shoot me in the back when I come to get them?”

     The voice laughed.

     “Good point.”

     Frank had the man’s interest. Now he just had to reel him in.

     “I know where a lot more of the stuff is. Prescription drugs, too. Any kind of booze you want. Cigars, cigarettes, you name it. If this goes down smooth, we can do business on a regular basis.”

     There was a slight pause as Willaker considered the idea.

     “Okay, friend. Come on in so I can meet you.”

     “No. I’ll come in after we trust each other. I didn’t get to be this old by being careless.”

     Another pause.

     “Okay, let me put my boots on and I’ll come out.”

     Twenty seconds later a creaky front door opened and Willaker stumbled out. It was obvious from the way he staggered and winced in the morning sun that he was in the clutches of a wicked hangover.

     He tromped down the three steps from the front porch to the lawn and plodded over to Frank.

     “I’m Willaker,” he said.

     “Hi, Willaker. I’m Frank. The two men behind you are Bryan and Mark. Each of them has a rifle aimed at your head. I suggest you don’t move, or it’s going to be shot right off your shoulders.”

     The bad man was confused, then amused by what he thought was a joke.

     Then his smile faded quickly as he noticed that Frank wasn’t laughing.

     He suddenly adopted a deer in the headlights look as he slowly turned his head to see the barrel of an AR-15 rifle inches from his nose. And the deadly serious face of Mark right behind it.

     “Now, then,” Frank instructed. “I want you to very slowly turn around and put your hands behind your back. I’m going to tie your hands and we’re going to walk away from here. It’s important to understand that those rifles will be trained on your head every step of the way. If you so much as fart without saying ‘excuse me,’ your brains will be scattered into the wind.”

     Willaker did what he was told, and at the precise moment Frank tightened the restraints around Willaker’s wrists, a gunshot rang out in the distance.

Chapter 22

     The first shot was followed by a second just a few seconds later. Then, a pause, and a flurry of shots.

     Frank counted nine shots in the flurry, from at least three different kinds of weapons. One of them was the very distinct sound of an AK-47 assault rifle.

     And that worried Frank.

     Sarah was on the radio as soon as the first shot rang out.

     “All teams, what’s your status?”

     Frank responded, “Team three, okay, and headed back.”

     The radio crackled to life again after a couple of seconds.

     “Team four, okay. We’ve got our target and are coming your way.”

     Then, “Team two, okay. Same for us.”

     Team one, Marty’s team, was silent.

     Sarah called out, “Team one, do you need help?”

     Silence.

     “Team one, team one, what’s your status?”

     Silence.

     “Teams two, three and four, can you spare one body to head toward 5
th
and Oak to assist team one?”

     “Team two, on the way.”

     “Team three, on the way.”

     “Team four, headed that way.”

     Then, Marty’s voice came over the airwaves.

     “Stay where you are, guys. We’re okay. We’re headed back now.”

     Sarah breathed a huge sigh of relief.

     “Marty, did you take any casualties?”

     “No. But they sure did.”

     It took the group a little longer to rendezvous because this time they had three prisoners in tow. Oddly enough, the prisoners weren’t very happy about being captured and were dragging their feet.

     Frank noticed Willaker constantly looking around him as they walked back to the truck stop on the outskirts of town.

     “If you’re looking for your buddies to rescue you, understand that at the first sign of trouble you’ll get a bullet in the head. You may not be the only casualty, but you’ll damn sure be the first.”

     “What are you, some kind of lawman?”

     “Deputy Frank T. Woodard, of the Bexar County Sheriff’s Department.”

     “Bexar County? We ain’t in Bexar County.”

     “Yeah, well, I always did have trouble finding my way around. Let’s just pretend, shall we?”

     “What are you going to do with me, Deputy Frank E. Woodard of the Bexar County Sheriff’s Department?”

     “That’s Frank
T.
Woodard. If you’re gonna use my name, at least get it right. And we’re taking you to San Angelo. They tell me a district judge there has agreed to try you in San Angelo for the crimes you’ve committed in Eden.”

     “What crimes? I ain’t committed no crimes. I’m just a boy scout who got caught up in circumstances. Yeah, that’s it. A victim of circumstances.”

     He let out a hideous laugh.

     “I wouldn’t find this so funny if I were wearing your shoes.”

     “Yeah? Well guess what, Frank
T.
Woodard? You ain’t wearing my shoes. And I ain’t worried for a couple of reasons. First of all, because the road to San Angelo is blocked. And I know the people who’ve blocked it. And there ain’t no way they’re letting you get through with me all trussed up like a pig.

     “And the second thing…”

     Frank looked at him impatiently.

     “Well, never mind, Frank
T.
Woodard. You’ll find out the second thing soon enough.”

     Frank wondered about the reason for the smug look on Willaker’s face, but he didn’t ask what it was all about. His first preference would have been for Willaker to just shut up and walk.

     After the group rendezvoused at the truck stop, Marty had a chance to explain the gunfire.

     “One of Joe Snell’s buddies apparently didn’t like that we were taking him away from them. They shot at us from an upstairs window. The first shot went whizzing just past my shoulder. I put a bullet through Joe Snell’s head and fired back. Mike and Eddie fired back at them too. They fired a few more rounds, and then when they noticed their guy was dead in the front yard, they kind of lost interest. I guess they figured there was no reason to get shot at over a dead guy. So they held their fire and we got the hell out of there.”

     Sarah asked, “Are you okay, Marty? About shooting a man, I mean?”

     “I’m fine, Sarah. For one thing, I don’t consider him a man. In my mind he’s no better than a mad dog. And after you folks hear from the townspeople about the things these scumbags have been doing to them, you’ll view them that way too.”

     Willaker and his two accomplices were herded into the back of Marty’s trailer and forced to sit on wooden pallets. A second zip tie was run between the boards on the pallets and through the zip tie around their wrists. They were effectively strapped to the floor of the trailer, and weren’t going anywhere.