Viper Team Seven (The Viper Team Seven Series Book 1) (34 page)

“Sir, if you
were to die today, are you one hundred percent sure you would be on your way to
Heaven?”

Parks’ mind
raced again as he tried to find the right answer. “Yes ma’am, I’d say so.”

“Could you tell
me why?”

“Well, just like
in the military, ma’am, good deeds get good rewards, and bad deeds get
punished. I’d be willing to say I’ve done enough good deeds to merit Heaven.”

“Are you in the
military?” the lady prodded.

“United States
Marine Corps Officer, ma’am.”

“Thank you for
your service, sir.”

“Ah, anytime
ma’am,” Parks said, now confident that he had answered her question correctly.

“But what have
you done so well that would get you to Heaven?”

“Ma’am, I am a
Marine. I’ve been in combat action three times, I’ve been wounded in combat,
I’ve risked my life for my country; and I realize I’m nothing special. I mean,
every Marine is ready to offer up his life for this country. But how could God
not
let Marines into Heaven?”

“He does,
believe me. But only the Marines that are saved.”

Parks was
thoroughly confused now. “Saved from what, ma’am?”

“An eternal
death in a place called hell.”

“I don’t
understand, ma’am. Are you saying that my good deeds won’t keep me from that
eternal death?”

The lady nodded
her head slowly. “Ephesians 2:8 and 9 tell us, ‘For by grace are ye saved
through faith, and that not of yourselves it is the gift of God, not of works
lest any man should boast.’”

“Now wait a
second, ma’am,” Parks interjected, feeling uncomfortable. “You mean to tell me
that God would not allow me or any of my Marine friends into Heaven even though
we’ve been ready to sacrifice our lives for something greater than ourselves?”

“No sir, not
unless you’ve asked Jesus to come into your heart and save you. You see,
there’s nothing you can do to get into Heaven by your own power. All you can do
is ask Jesus to take you to Heaven by accepting His gift.”

“His gift?”

“His gift was
when He came down to earth and lived a perfect, sinless life and was crucified
by the Romans. He died and shed His blood so that you and I can accept His gift
and make Heaven our home.”

“Now you’re
really confusing me, ma’am,” Parks admitted. “You mean God’s gift is a – please
don’t take this wrong – a dead person?”

“No, of course
not. Jesus didn’t stay dead after He was crucified; He rose again three days
after He was buried. That’s what we celebrate during Easter, right?”

“When I was a
kid I thought it was all about Easter egg hunts, but later on in life, I found
out that it had some relation to God.”

“Good for you,”
the lady praised. “So, Jesus gave His life, was buried, and rose again the
third day, for us. And the only way to get to Heaven is by believing that He
did die for you, and asking Him to come into your heart and save you as the
only way to get to Heaven.”

“Hang on a
second, ma’am. Jesus died for us, right? I really appreciate that but every
time I wake up in the morning I have to be willing – and am willing for that
matter – to lay down my own life for my country. Every military man has that
self-sacrificial attitude. Why can’t that take me to Heaven? Does Jesus not
appreciate that?”

“Believe me,
sir, He does, and so do I. But that cannot take you to Heaven because if it
could, it would be by your own works, and I just showed you that can’t happen.”

“So what you’re
saying is Jesus won’t accept my gift?” Parks was thoroughly mixed up and he was
desperately trying to make sense of this all.

“Not if that’s
what you want to use to take you to Heaven. You see, if there was any other way
to get to Heaven, then Jesus died in vain.”

“But I didn’t
ask Jesus to die for me.”

“Let me put it
this way. You are willing to die for your country without being asked, right?
Well, why?”

Parks leaned
against the doorway. “Because I love my country, ma’am, and I love the freedoms
my country has. It’s worth sacrificing my life so that America can stay free forever. I don’t feel I need an invitation to do so.”

“Same thing with
Jesus. He loves you so much that He died without ever being asked by you. It
was worth it to Him to die so that you can have everlasting life in Heaven.”

“That’s a good
analogy, ma’am,” Parks told her. “But I still can’t fathom that. You’re saying
that even though my brother selflessly died for our country, God just looks at
that like a normal occurrence and says that’s not good enough? How could a
loving God see the sacrifice my brother made and say it wasn’t enough?”

The lady looked
Parks directly in the eye and with deep sincerity said, “I’m very sorry about
your brother. I do appreciate his service, and yours. But to answer your
question, God still can’t let him into Heaven unless he accepted Jesus as his
personal Lord and Saviour. Do you see what I’m saying?”

Parks hardly
knew what to say. “I can’t believe that, ma’am. I don’t see how you can say
that God won’t allow our selfless military men into His Heaven unless they
accept Jesus. Maybe that’s your perspective but I just don’t see it, ma’am.”

“I tell you
what,” the lady replied softly, “we’ll pray for you. We’ll ask God to give you
that understanding, and I’m sure He will.”

“Thank you
ma’am,” Parks acknowledged politely.

“All right then,
would you like me to pray with you now?”

“Uh, no ma’am,”
Parks responded a bit too quickly. “But again, thanks for stopping by.”

“Of course.
Would you like us to come by some other time and visit with you?”

“No ma’am, I
don’t think so.”

“Okay. Thanks
for your time and have a nice evening.”

Parks nodded and
closed the door. He wasn’t sure what to make of that. He had never been to
church much except on Easter Sundays and an occasional Christmas, and that was
kind of the way he liked things. But even if he did want to attend a church, he
couldn’t now since he had to work so much.

Oh no,
he
thought when he suddenly smelled smoke.
I’m sure my hot dogs are fried
harder than a rock by now.

Tuesday, March 25
^th
– 0530 hours

Juarez, Mexico

Alka vun Buvka
stepped off the Gulfstream V and looked around. It was early in the morning and
the famous warm Mexican sun was not up yet, making the weather quite cool. A
small one-man aircraft was sitting not a hundred yards away, and vun Buvka was
wondering if that would be his means of getting into the U.S.

“Mr. vun Buvka,”
the male flight attendant said, “your bags.”

Vun Buvka spun
around and grabbed his luggage. “Thank you. Do you know if
that
is going
to be my transportation plane?” he asked, as he nodded toward the aircraft. “It
seems rather small, wouldn’t you say?”

The man cleared
his throat. “It has to be small. And yes, that’s the one.”

Vun Buvka
snickered. “How very efficient.”

“It’ll do the
job, believe me. Now, you know how to fly one of those things, don’t you?”

“Of course I do.
Terrorists are always learning how to use equipment that might help them in
their work.”

“Very well, Mr.
vun Buvka,” the man conceded. “Do you have any questions? If you do I’d ask
them now because besides being able to contact the boss, you’re on your own
once you cross over the border.”

“I have nothing
to ask.”

“Good. Then
you’d better get out of here before someone wanders over and recognizes you.”

Vun Buvka
consented and walked over to the aircraft. He threw in what few items he had
brought along and then seated himself in the pilot’s seat. After a long breath
and a quick look back at the Gulfstream V that would be waiting for him to
return, he started the engine.

I hope I don’t die trying to fly this plane,
he thought.
I
think I’d rather die at the hands of some American.

*          *          *

President
Winnfield studied the faces of each man that was sitting in the Situation Room.
He had called the meeting with the majority leaders and the whips of both
houses of Congress, the Speaker of the House, and VP, on the premise of what to
do about the terrorists. Of course, he wouldn’t address that there
were
terrorists in the U.S. because he didn’t want to tip his hand about the Viper
Team Seven, but rather he was going to present a solution to prevent future terrorists
from crossing into the U.S. from the southern border. It was a demanding issue.

“Gentlemen,” the
President began with confidence in his voice, “I thank all of you for attending
this meeting; it is of utmost importance, I assure you. I would like to address
the matter of a fence on our southwest border. A matter which has already
received funding, yet for two administrations has not been completed for some
reason or another.” The statement aroused sneers from several of the men in the
room. “However,” Winnfield continued, “the past administrations are past, thank
God, and now we can make this fence a reality.”

“Let’s all face
the facts, gentlemen,” he went on. “With the recent terrorist attacks in
January, we have no other choice than to make sure our nation is more secure.”
Several heads bobbed up and down in agreement. “I believe a large step to
achieving that goal would be to construct a fence on our southwest border.
Senate Majority Leader Task from Texas, and the House whip, Congressman Payson
out of New Mexico, can both agree, I’m sure, that in most places a river guards
our country from illegal aliens. That should not be so. You see, it’s like an
open door for terrorists to come into the Continental United States. Does
anyone not see what I’m trying to say?”

“I completely
agree with you, Mr. President,” Congressman Payson of the Republican Party
voiced. “The innocent citizens of the southwest are being negatively affected
because our borders are not locked down as they should be. Once the illegal
aliens come into our nation, there’s no stopping them – drug dealers,
murderers, thieves, you name it.
We have to keep them out
.”

The President nodded
and then looked to Senator Task. “And do you have anything you’d like to say
regarding this issue?”

Task, a Tea
Party Senator, wriggled in his seat before making direct eye contact with
Winnfield. “Mr. President, I fully agree. It is our lawful and moral duty to do
what’s best for the innocent people of the United States. I am under the
impression that it’d be best if we locked down the border with Mexico. Mr. President, we don’t have a choice. We have to do this. The project already has
funding, let’s just get the fence built.”

“Thanks for your
input, Senator,” the President acknowledged. “I couldn’t agree more. I believe we
need to start building it as soon as we can.”

“Mr. President, I
feel it’s my duty to say that I am in full agreement with this matter of a
border fence,” Republican Senator Egan from New York stated. “The approximately
fifteen hundred miles along our southwest border is probably the most dangerous
in the U.S. Protecting our borders from illegal aliens has been something heavy
on my mind for quite a while, and I am also under the belief that the sooner we
construct the fence the better.”

“Many thanks,
Senator,” Winnfield responded. “Does Congressman Willie have any comment? I’d
like to get anyone’s input on this matter.” 

“Well, I’d like
to take it even further, Mr. President,” House Majority Leader Willie, a strong
Tea Party conservative from Montana, replied. “Although Montana isn’t really
affected by illegal aliens from Mexico, I believe it would still be in the best
interest of Americans as a whole if we went ahead with this fence. But as I
said, I’d like to take an even further step toward securing our southwest
border. I would say that we all can come to the agreement that we need Border
Patrol agents on the ground, making sure nobody tries to use that fence as a
hurdle. A fence is a good precaution, but a fence guarded by Border Patrol
agents would be an even greater precaution.”

“I’d say that’s
something we need to look into, Mr. President,” Congressman Payson agreed. “If
we’re going to take a step for more secure borders, why don’t we try and take a
leap instead?”

The President
smiled with a heartfelt satisfaction. “You got it, guys. We’ll work in a
heavier Border Patrol guard along with the fence. Something else we may need to
do is to better secure the airspace and waterspace around the U.S. That issue may come up in the near future.”

“Mr. President,
may I ask a question?” Speaker of the House Dann interrupted.

“Of course, what
is it?”

“Well sir, just
how probable is another 1/16? I mean, if you’d have asked me if there would
have been another attack like 9/11, I’d have said no way. But obviously one
came. Is this fence really going to thwart another attack? I mean it’s great
for stopping everyday illegal Mexicans from crossing into our country, but will
it stop terrorists?”

The President
knew that Dann hadn’t a clue about the whole situation of how the terrorists
had chewed up the Border Patrol agent that guarded the border of New Mexico. He also knew the unpleasant answer to Dann’s question.

“Congressman
Dann, may I say that a person can only do so much to stop terrorism,” Winnfield
explained. “In our case, we responded to 9/11 by locking down our airspace
because it played a role in the attacks. I’m not saying our weak border
protection had a part in 1/16, but that could be the cause of future attacks if
we don’t do something. The fence, the Border Patrol guards, the War on
Terrorism, it’s all in the line of trying to keep our nation as secure as
possible from terrorism.”

“All right, Mr.
President, I understand that. But I’m asking if this will work. Would it really
prevent terrorists from coming into the U.S.?”

Winnfield paused
a moment before slowly and carefully answering. “I believe that every step we
take – no matter how small it may be – toward securing our nation against
terrorism, the better off we will be. The truth is, I don’t know if it will
prevent terrorism completely. It will help keep our nation safer from illegal
aliens – that I know. And all we can do is try.”

“Is there
something else we can do? It just seems so hopeless when it’s put like that.”

“There isn’t
much else,” the Vice President said. “We just don’t know what to think about
anything yet. We will eventually though.”

Egan pushed on
the table and leaned back in his chair. “Yes, well hopefully this fence will
give the picture that we don’t want to play.”

“I wouldn’t bet
on that,” the VP warned. “Whoever is to blame had been planning 1/16 for a long
time, given how well everything went, and I don’t think a fence will keep them
out of the playground.”

“Are you against
the fence, Mr. Vice President?” Payson questioned in dismay.

“Not one bit. In
fact, I discussed this with the President yesterday and we decided we had to
have a fence on our southwest border. I’m just agreeing with the President;
that shouldn’t be the end of our security measures but the beginning.”

“He’s got a
valid point,” Task voiced. “We are still very vulnerable due to the progressive
mindset of the administrations of the past. We’ve done a lot but there’s still a
ways to go. We need to hurry on the national security end of things before some
hostile nation gets any ideas.”

“That’s the
truth,” the President agreed. “We’ve been doing all we can, I just hope we can
get deterrents fast enough. There is so much to do.”

The President knew he had to get defenses set up as quickly as possible. Someone
was attacking the U.S., and he needed to stop them.
Take one step at a time,
he told himself mentally.
Finish one thing and then move on to the next.
It’ll all work out.

*          *          *

Vun Buvka hadn’t
been in the United States since last January, and as he flew over the Mexican
border into El Paso, he knew this could be his last visit. As much as he didn’t
want it to be, he had to be prepared just in case some unfortunate mistake
occurred.

Quickly looking
down to the ground of Texas, he realized that he would be approaching the
airstrip in just a few minutes. His boss had secured the strip and had assured
him that no one would be there that would recognize him and that the plane
would still be there waiting for him when he returned. Vun Bukva wasn’t so
confident that no one would recognize him, especially when it was a sure thing
that his face was on the homepage of the FBI’s website as being the number two
terrorist. The usual joy he experienced when he thought of his rank did not
come this time, however. Deep inside his gut he knew he would have to play this
game wisely if he wanted to win. Unlike last January, now vun Buvka was infamous.
This time, the Americans had a team that was specially trained to kill him and
his accomplices; so during this operation, he had to be on the alert like never
before.

The airstrip
came into view and he slowed the aircraft and decreased altitude. “We’re coming
in for a landing!” vun Buvka yelled to himself over the noise of the plane’s
engine.

He guided the
small plane down, down, down, until he felt the wheels slam against the runway.
Then he slowed until he was going at a snail’s pace. He steered off to the side
to where several sheds were located and chose an empty one that looked like it
hadn’t been used for a while. At last when the plane was inside, he shut off
the engine, peeled off his goggles, and leaped out of the cockpit.

“Hey you there,”
a Texas-accented voice gruffly called from outside the shed. “What can I do for
you, Mister?”

Vun Buvka
wheeled around and moved his hand to his pistol that was shoved in his belt
under his jacket.

“I said, what
can I do for you?” the man repeated in a frustrated voice. “You’d better have a
good reason for parking your plane in my shed.”

Vun Buvka’s mind
reeled for an answer. Was this the right airstrip? Didn’t his boss say he had
it all worked out? Then why was this man acting like this?

“I...you...well,
you weren’t expecting me?” he finally spit out.

“No, I wasn’t.
Now do you want to tell me who you are and why you put your plane in here? This
is a personal airstrip you know.”

Again the
terrorist was at a loss of words.

“Mister,” the
man said, walking closer to vun Buvka, “I asked you a question. Are you going
to give me an answer or do I have to call the police and have them make you
tell me?”

“What is
your
name?”

“Never mind. Now
what do you want?”

“I need to keep
my plane in a safe place for a few days, maybe longer,” vun Buvka hesitantly
told him. “Would you be interested in renting this shed to me?”

The Texan’s eyes
lit up and his hard face softened. “How many bucks you willin’ to pay, Mex?”

The terrorist
was surprised that this man actually thought he was a Mexican. That was very good
news for him.

“Fifty a week,”
vun Buvka threw out. “But you have to keep my plane in perfect condition.”

“A hundred.”

“All right.”

“Good, let’s see
the money,” the man ordered impatiently.

Vun Buvka
reached in his pocket and pulled out a crisp hundred-dollar bill. “Satisfied?”
he asked, keeping the bill just out of the Texan’s reach.

“Yeah, I’m satisfied.”

“Good.” The terrorist
handed the man the hundred dollars and didn’t bother to hide his pleased look.
“I’ll give you a hundred more up front if you keep your mouth shut about me
being here.”

At that the
man’s grin faded. “What are you talkin’ about? Who are you, where are you
from?”

Vun Buvka
reached back in his pocket and found two hundred-dollar bills. “All right I’ll
double it. Two hundred dollars just for holding your tongue. I’m sure you can
do that.”