Andrew Peterson - First to Kill

“Are you McBride?” the man asked.

That question spoke volumes. Ortega had gotten the word out. This man knew he would be here, but the woman who shot the hell out of the ponderosa hadn’t.

Nathan nodded.

“All right. Let’s do this delicately. I want you to ask Mr. Fontana to stand down.”

“I need to give him a hand signal.”

“Please.”

Nathan unlocked his fingers from the top of his head and turned to face Harv’s position. He slowly took his right hand, formed a fist, and placed it across his chest with the knuckles touching his right shoulder. He interlocked his fingers atop his head again.

“Thank you,” the man said.

“No problem. Your teams are top-notch,” Nathan added.

The slightest hint of a smile touched the man’s lips, but vanished instantly. “You fire that warning shot?”

“Yes.”

“At ease.”

Nathan brought his hands down from his head.

“We’ve got three down, one dead.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Took a fragment down through his shoulder close to his neck. Clipped his carotid. The toll could’ve been a lot worse.”

Nathan looked at the man’s bloody hands again. “There’s probably another ring of claymores closer to the buildings.”

“We’re on hold for now. I’m Assistant Special Agent in Charge Larry Gifford with the Sacramento Joint Terrorism Task Force.” He closed the distance and held out his right hand.

Nathan shook it, ignoring the sticky feel of drying blood. “I’m sorry about your man.”

“Me too.”

“How are the other two?”

“One has a concussion from a tree branch. Clocked him pretty good, but he’ll be okay. His bucket saved his life. The other has a separated shoulder. At least his vest worked. I heard a shot about a minute after the mines detonated, followed by several shots coming from the compound.”

“I killed the man who detonated the mines. He was in a tree platform sighting in on your team with scoped rifle when I nailed him. I’m damned sorry I didn’t get him sooner.”

“This isn’t your fault. If our teams hadn’t been on the ground when those claymores went off…” Gifford looked at Nathan’s fatigues. “You’re bleeding.”

“Those shots you heard,” Nathan offered. “The rock face above our heads took a few impacts. The shooter was hoping for a cornering shot. Nearly got one.”

“Do you need medical attention?”

He shook his head. “Fragments.”

“I’ll have our medic look at them anyway. Please bring Mr. Fontana forward.”

He turned toward Harv’s invisible position and signaled him with a slight nod. Two hundred yards distant, Harv stood and began jogging toward them, weaving his way through the trees.

Harv arrived thirty seconds later. Introductions were made.

“Nobody else knew we were here but you,” Nathan said.

“That’s right.” There was no apology in his voice.

“Understood. If you had told your team there were friendlies in the area, they might hesitate at the moment of truth, which could get them killed. They needed to know anyone not in a SWAT uniform was fair game. I would’ve played it the same way. Risky, to us.”

“The price of admission, Mr. McBride. I wouldn’t agree to your involvement any other way. I’ve also got a sniper team on the north rim of the canyon. They couldn’t see the tree stand where you nailed the shooter, but they followed your movements the entire way, reporting only to me on a different frequency. You want to talk about top-notch, they said you guys looked like part of the landscape.”

“What now?” Nathan asked.

Gifford looked back in the direction of the compound. “We’ve got an explosives unit being flown in from Sierra Army Depot. Two Black Hawks are on their way from Amedee Field as we speak. Should be here within the hour. We run an explosive investigation unit out of there.”

“The FBI does?” he asked.

Gifford nodded and looked at his agents, then pointed at Nathan and Harvey. “Collins, Dowdy, these two were never here. I want the compound’s perimeter secured out to a distance of two miles. Keep everyone well behind the first detonation ring. I want all the doors and windows of the main building constantly watched. I don’t want anyone firing a shoulder-launched weapon at the approaching choppers.”

The two agents hustled back toward the compound, the lead man talking into his mike as he ran.

“I only saw three guys,” Nathan said. “I got one of them, but the other two are still in the main building. One of them has a rifle and he’s a shooter.”

Gifford turned away and spoke quietly into his mike. He turned back toward Nathan and Harvey. “I’ll be honest. I was resentful you two were going to be here, but now I’m glad you were. We would’ve made this a night raid otherwise. It’s no secret who’s missing.” Gifford issued a hand signal to the woman SWAT member, and she hustled over to their position. “Cover us.” He addressed Nathan and Harvey. “You two, you’re with me.” Gifford began walking deeper into the forest.

Nathan exchanged a glance with Harv before following. When they were fifty yards away, Gifford stopped and faced them. He reached into his pocket and gave Nathan a slip of paper with a handwritten phone number on it.

“Call me in six hours. If you’re willing, I’ve got a special job for you guys tomorrow night.”

“A tunnel?” Senator Stone McBride’s irritation couldn’t be concealed. Gripping the telephone too tightly, he continued. “And nobody knew about it?”

Leaf Watson hesitated before answering. “I’m afraid not, sir. I think it’s fair to assume if Special Agent Ortega has seen it, he would’ve reported it.”

Stone had sent Watson out to California on a red-eye for a firsthand report. Now he couldn’t help but wish he’d gone along with him.

“I have FBI Assistant Special Agent in Charge Larry Gifford with me. We’re on speaker, Senator.”

“Nice to meet you, ASAC Gifford, even under the circumstances.”

“Thank you, Senator,” Gifford said.

“Any sign of James Ortega?”

“No,” Watson said.

“I want the entire property searched. Bring in whatever resources you need. I want that compound torn apart. Dogs, whatever it takes. I want James Ortega found.”

“Yes, Senator. I’ll see to it personally.”

Stone rubbed his eyes. “What about the Semtex?”

“I’m looking at several pallets of wooden crates stacked head high.”

“How much?”

“Just over sixteen hundred pounds.”

“Did we get all of it?”

“We’re pretty sure ten crates are missing. About four hundred pounds.”

“So, let me get this straight,” Stone said. “The raid nets us over three-quarters of a ton of Semtex and the youngest Bridgestone brother, but in the process we lose one of your men, four hundred pounds of Semtex, and the operation’s two ringleaders. Not a great trade-off, I’m afraid.”

An uneasy silence hung on the other end.

Larry Gifford broke it. “It could’ve been a lot worse.”

Waiting for Gifford to continue, Stone said nothing.

“We had a sniper team on the south rim of the canyon. They saw a compound member with a radio remote, put two and two together, and fired a shot out in front of my SWAT team. Fortunately when the claymores blew, we were on the ground. We could’ve lost a dozen more agents.”

“Is that the official story?” Stone asked.

“Yes.”

“Good, let’s keep it that way.” Stone knew the truth and knew that both Gifford and Watson also knew the truth. His son fired that warning shot. Chalk up another victory for cold-blooded snipers.