Un-Connected (13 page)

The closer one got up first, and I picked up my
AR15 had my sights on him before he was fully upright. I pulled the trigger and
hit him in the spine right between his shoulder blades.

He leapt forward and expanded as if he was
about to explode.

The other two swung around to engage me while
the bus guys opened fire.

When they did, another guy stepped out of the
helicopter with an M50 machine gun. He opened up on the bus. It was too late
for the first guys on the ground, and the bus guys ducked.

My next shot missed the fast-moving last guy
as he ran for the store.

He blew the glass open rather than open the
door, but he wasn’t inside far until gunshots dropped him to his knees. Other
than putting some holes in the ceiling, he was done.

“The SUV is here,” someone yelled.

They pulled up short of the front door and
jumped out firing. They didn’t open the glass door either but made doors of
their own, taking out most of the front of the store glass.

One took a shot from behind the counter and
went down. Three more ran through the openings they’d made, and one of them got
no farther. One more got out of the SUV to follow the first ones, leaving three
of them standing.

Several more of Otis’s family fired from
behind the rolling counter perpendicular to the front wall. 

I got one of the guys in my sights and
carried him back to the front wall. The other two had some amazing full
automatic firepower with the fronts of their guns flaming. They had no good
targets with the small holes in the counters and rifle barrels sticking out of
those. They were no match for the well-placed shots that penetrated their body
armor.

And it was over.

Chapter
9

The Cover Up

Will and a couple of young bucks began to
strip the avionics and telecom from the helicopter. Another one was snapping
pictures of everything as fast as he could. He must have taken several hundred
pictures.

Some of the girls were throwing guns into the
trunk of an old Fleetwood. Some had belonged to the men in black, while others had
been used by Otis’s family in the bus and behind the two counters. They cleaned
a number of guns out of gun racks in the helicopter and the SUV. When they were
done, there were few guns at the site and no rifles or handguns except Otis’ 9mm
and a rifle for each one of the dead men in black.  Everyone was leaving except
Otis.  His story would be that all these guys came in with guns blazing and he
killed them all with his 9 mm.  The dead guys had empty pistol holders of one
type or another.  They had old empty AR rifles in their still hands.

They pulled the extra counter back into the
building away from the front counter and put sale items on it.  A few drove
away in the bus and more took the motor home.  They were removing a lot of
stuff.

Otis put big boy up and told me I could keep
the other guns. He said if I didn’t want my name in the news and my picture in
the paper, I should retire to the truck.

Otis called the police and told them they
would need their crime lab unit. Then he called the local TV station that was
always trying to fight it out with the bigger stations in Phoenix. He told them
he had a scoop for them, but they’d better hurry.

When the first police car arrived, all of
Otis’s family was gone.  The gun racks in the helicopter and the SUV were
empty. Otis only had one 9 MM semi auto in his holster.

We should have gone to a motel. It was crazy
around there all day and into the night. Crime-scene tape stretched everywhere.
The law enforcement from the local police department, the Phoenix police,
Arizona Department of Public Safety, the FBI, and at least half a dozen other
law enforcement agencies from other towns had representatives there working or
watching.  

Then other government people started showing
up.   We could tell by all the different jackets they wore with large print on
the backs.  There were people from ICE, BATF, DEA, Homeland Security and two
from the governor’s security detail.  There must have been 100 law enforcement
people there swarming all over the place talking about what happened.  They
would stand in one place or another pointing fingers and stepping off different
things.

I called Jim as soon as the shooting stopped
to tell him what had happened. First the police and then the AZDPS and then the
FBI were swarming all over the place and came to the truck. At least ten times
someone different knocked on our truck door to ask us what we saw, and we told
them we weren’t there at the time.  Most were news people.  Other law
enforcement didn’t bother us.  It was obvious that what one knew most of the
rest knew at that point.

Jim said he would be there as soon as he
could. He texted a picture of himself and said don’t talk to anyone but him. He
was there when we woke up the next morning.

I’m glad he sent a picture. But it was
unnecessary since I would recognize his voice anywhere. We went with him to
breakfast away from the truck stop.

I asked him if he’d looked around, and he
nodded. I asked what kind of helicopter it was, and who owned it.

“It was a new model the military didn’t have
yet, and I have been trying for two hours to find out who owned it but with no
luck. You are on the right track asking the right questions. There are a lot of
interesting things to find out, but whoever owned the helicopter was high up in
the government and outranked the Pentagon. And they won’t be happy about losing
that bird!”

“How many agencies can get a plane the
Pentagon can’t get?”

“There are probably only three. The Secret
Service could get one. I think the US State Department and the Department of
Homeland Security could get one. But that is new technology, rare and very
expensive.”

“Surely, my own government wasn’t trying to
kill me.”

Jim didn’t answer. That made me even more
nervous.

Then Jim gave me a new phone. “You can call
me anytime. And as long as no one is close beside you or hears us, no one else
will. You, the Secret Service, and I are the only ones with this type. I had to
pull some strings to get these, so don’t lose it.”

We talked about other things including Seth,
who wanted to meet us.

Jim took Deb’s phone and called Seth’s number,
but there was no answer except for the message that the number had been
disconnected. Seth had disappeared and was covering his tracks it seemed.

”You’ll probably be safe for now,” Jim said.
“Whoever was doing this would now be doing damage control. But they’ll regroup
and maybe come after you again later.”

“Deb,” Jim said. “Next time you need to get closer
to the camera in the truck stops and look straight into the lens and smile. None
of the pictures we got of you do you justice.”

We all laughed and Deb blushed a little.

“She’s a married woman, and you shouldn’t try
to cut in on me.”

“The way she sticks to you and sticks up for
you, she would probably hurt me.”

“I would hope so.” I said.

“What do they think we’re driving?” Deb
asked, obviously trying to change the subject.

We discussed the truck and motor home
question.

“The people in the SUV probably think of you in
a motor home,” Jim said. “The FBI had intercepted a small amount of encrypted
communication they thought was from the black SUV guys, and the implication was
a motor home.”

Otis had removed the motor home that had been
at the truck stop but told the police and newspaper people the motor home had
sat by pump one. So we were pretty sure that information had been ground in
real well.

In retrospect, we wished the truck had been
moved, so it could not be in any of the pictures. We discussed it with Jim.

He pulled a credit card out of his coat
pocket and gave it to me. “I’m on a tight budget, but I believe you should get
the truck painted. Maybe the trailer too.”

We told Jim goodbye just before he left. 
Then we decided the sooner we got out of there, the better. So we said good-bye
to Otis and Tilly and everyone around, giving them big hugs. We hit the road. We
picked up a load in Phoenix. I drove, and Deb called ahead to our drop area.
She got quotes on paint. We got the best quote we could with a two- to three-day
turn. Then we called Jim to see if there was enough on the card for that amount
and to get his permission.

“Great, get it done.”

We made our drop first thing the next morning
and had the truck in the paint shop. We cleaned a lot of stuff out of the truck
into the loaner car and especially the guns. The shop foreman saw one of them
and told us we weren’t supposed to have those in a commercial vehicle.

I told him I needed it. “Besides, am I the
only driver you know with a gun in the cab?”

“No, but I have to tell you so I stay out of
trouble.”

“Just don’t tell anyone,” I asked.

He saluted as if to say “Yes, sir!”

We found a motel where we paid cash. It was a
fun three days. With Deb’s rhythm ending, even more fun. We decided to stay
with that method for now. I didn’t want her to change what she had done for so
long and make a decision in a hurry that she might regret later. The next
Sunday we went to Mass and thanked the Lord to be alive in America.

She started putting on the bikini again that
afternoon, but she didn’t quite get in all on.

Jim called later on Sunday to give us an
update. It was sure nice to be able to talk to him whenever we wanted and as
long as we wanted.

“The Secret Service had admitted taking
delivery of the helicopter when it was brand new,” Jim said, “but had leased it
to someone. They wouldn’t tell us who. We reminded them that we’re the FBI.” We
counseled the SS, but they wouldn’t talk. We told them we needed to know, and they
should be working with us.

Monday morning we got a call from Jim.

“Now the people who made the helicopter are
denying delivery to the Secret Service, which the Secret Service agrees with. So
the cover-up is getting more serious and involves more people.”

I told Jim I didn’t think he knew how
helpless those things made me feel. Talk about not being able to do anything. My
government might be after me, and the FBI can’t get answers. If the FBI can’t
get answers, what’s the chance Sam Adams or Bentley Raines has of getting
anything resolved? I wasn’t feeling well. The stress was really wearing on me. I’d
thought when we left Otis’s, we’d get some relief for a while. We did, but it
didn’t last long.

We talked to Jim about the guns Otis gave us
and asked him what he thought we should do. He told us he needed to think about
it but the first thing that came to mind was to put them in a gun safe in the
truck.

”No one can make you open it without probable
cause. It should work as long as you’re not in the middle of some trouble. The
police may not like you having it, but if you say it’s for cash, computers, and
valuables, they won’t be able to say much.”

He paused. “Be sure there’s no way they can
put a drug dog or anything else on you. If they can get the safe open and find
those guns, you will really be in trouble. Once they start poking around with
your life, there is no telling how much they’ll find out.”

We asked Jim about the missing guns at the
shootout.

He laughed. “The FBI’s official position was
to be angry. But what can they do unless bullets are used in a crime that
matches the guns left at the scene? Do you know how many bullets the FBI recovered
at the scene?”

We had no idea and couldn’t even guess.

“They found 1026. That’s amazing that nine
attackers with one rifle each and Otis using a 9 mm handgun and fifteen shot
clips could fire that many shots in six minutes. Otis gave them an audio tape
he said was off his cell phone. I believe it sets a world record for swapping
clips out of a handgun.” He laughed again. “And the way that 9mm tore up a
couple of the guys and locked up the helicopter was the best shooting we have
ever seen. The other odd question is, how did Otis fire .308 bullets out of a
9mm pistol? Maybe even a .50 caliber.  Some things are hard to reconcile.”

“The FBI crime scene investigators had asked
Otis if he had any surveillance tapes, and he asked them if they were kidding,
but didn’t really answer. From the audio tape we found the gun battle lasted
about six minutes total. The helicopter fight lasted just over two minutes, and
the SUV fight just over three,” Jim said.

“Some in the FBI think some weapons were
removed from the scene and are angry about evidence tampering. But since they
assumed the missing guns belonged to the attackers and therefore were unregistered,
the FBI didn’t know what to look for except the caliber. What really frosted
them were all the .308 brass cases lying around since the dead guys were
shooting 5.56 mm. Very skeptical those FBI crime scene guys.”

“Who were the attackers?” I asked

 “We don’t know yet. Some of them are ex-Delta
and some ex-Seal. They were good, but anyone can be ambushed, plus they came in
too sure of themselves. They expected to see a few unarmed people there, not a
platoon that was heavily armed and well protected. Those counters with two
thicknesses of subflooring easily stopped all their bullets.”

“The AZDPS is getting very excited about Otis
not cooperating.  We know they’re leaning on Otis to find the missing stuff. They
asked Otis how anyone could shoot 132 rounds of .308 ammo through a 9 mm
handgun,” Jim said.

He admitted it was quite a puzzle.

Joking, I asked if I should call AZDPS and
tell them they were wasting their time.

Jim said it would be a waste of my time. He
said what really makes them angry is Otis telling them they worked for him, and
he would tell them on a “need to know basis.”

“The local sheriff got in on it and told the
AZDPS just before they left in a huff that they wouldn’t be able to hold Otis
on more than jaywalking.”

“Once they were gone, the sheriff turned to
Otis and said,
When you stole my girl and married Tilly, I figured I’d have
a chance to get even with you. But I wouldn’t let those guys have you!
They
both had a good laugh.”

It made me a little nervous. I looked at Deb
and she bugged her eyes out as if to say it was a little crazy to her too.
Later I asked Otis about it.

“They broke up two weeks before I asked her
out. He was just talking. Besides, he married money, and he is quite happy with
himself. We’ve been great friends for more than fifty years and there’s no way
he’d let them haul me off. If he thought they might, he would have told them he
was taking me to his jail. He would have driven me home and told me to stay out
of trouble,” Otis said.