Paul Kirk - Devastation Point

“Umm…”

“I’m tellin’ you, T, that’s a critical asset to most of the combat vets here in the clan, since most are military trained and fully seasoned. And, trust me, these men know that, sometimes, the man with the serious juice in the situation isn’t necessarily the leader of the pack. It happens. You know?”

“Hmm…”

“Intel or expertise can come from any angle, just like it did today. But, the team leader uses this, trusting the men under her command to do what’s right for the team.”

“Huh.”

“Trust with a capital T and no pun intended. And I’m telling ya, it’s just different than the killing of those interlopers like we usually have to do.”

“C’mon, Andy. You and your men are seriously fucked up.”

“I’ll take that as a yes that you understand what I was saying.”

Terry stole a sideways glance at Andy, before slipping an arm around his waist. The clan members were fast approaching. She spoke quickly.

“Yeah. I hear you. More importantly, I have a special assignment for you.”

“You do?”

“Yep, you’re to report to our bedroom in fifteen minutes. I’ll accept no excuses. And, if you don’t perform, I’ll fuckin’ kill you myself.”

Surprised at the intensity of her own words, Terry’s face flushed. Not surprised, she noticed Andy’s easy grin in response.

“You can count on it, little woman.”

Andy slipped his hand gently across her buttocks. Then, he pinched her hard enough that she barely stopped a yelp in front of the arriving crew. Andy greeted Kevin and the clan members with a calming smile.

“Ghost?”

“Yeah?”

“Sorry ’bout this.”

With a blur of hands, Marty slipped the nine-inch blade into the young man’s heart and gently held him, as he lowered him to the ground. Extracting the blade and wiping it on the young man’s shirt, he turned to Amanda.

“Send the info in… now.”

Amanda stared at the dead young man and shivered, holding the radio limply in her hand, but her eyes were wide with inaction.

“Snuff?”

Amanda stood frozen near the window.

“Amanda!”

She jumped.

“Yeah?”

“Send. It. In.”

“Oh.”

Marty dragged Ghost to a dark corner, away from the windows. And, once the body was out of sight, Amanda recovered more quickly.

“Mac… Big Eye… you there? This is Snuff. You copy?”

“Copy, Snuff.”

She conveyed pertinent information, though her voice cracked near the end of her transmission.

“Excellent! Ahh… you okay, Snuff? Over.”

“Roger that.”

Marty approached with a gentle gimp, favoring his knee, gently taking the radio from her hands. But, before he was able to speak on the radio, Amanda wrapped her arms around him, groaning into his collar. Marty was caught off guard.

“Umm, sorry, Amanda. Killin’ him had to be done… you do know that, right?”

Nodding, she squeezed tighter and Marty caught the soft fragrance of her hair, before quickly placing her at arm’s length.

“I’m guessing you’ve not seen death so cold and up close before?”

Amanda stared at the floor. Gently, Marty tipped up her chin, seeing the sadness. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around her for a few more seconds, before releasing her once again.

“Umm…”

“Close blood killing takes some getting used to, Amanda.”

“I…”

“It’s not quite like scoping a target, you know?”

“He was just a kid.”

“Yeah. He was that. With a decently equipped rifle.” Marty forcibly ended the discussion, all business. “C’mon, let’s leave this trash. We have stuff to do.”

The radio crackled.

“Snuff? You copy.”

“Copy, it’s Surf Boy. What do you want to do based on the new intel? Over.”

“Suggestions, Surf Boy?”

“I’m running about eighty-five percent certain the president is over there with a pending surprise assault… over.”

“I’m comin’ in with the full team. We’re comin’ in hard. What’s best egress to position? Over.”

“West stairway. Keep tight. Come low and south first. Covert all the way. Over.”

“Roger that.”

“The building’s clear at the moment. Can’t guarantee for how much longer. Over.”

“Roger that.”

“Come as quick as you can. You have less than twenty minutes before a takedown of the Hall of Fame. Over”

“Understood. The enemy sniper?”

“Taken care of. Over.”

“Roger that. Out.”

“Ma’am?”

“Yeah, Burroughs?”

“Major says that he’s ramping to full alert.”

“Details?”

“Rice caught some movement east of the perimeter suggesting unwarranted interest or activity.”

“Huh, unwarranted no less.”

Colonel Starkes smiled, pleased at Burroughs’ intensity.

“Tim says he might’ve caught some suspicious activity behind the building. A couple of men seemed like they were trying not to be seen and then acted like they were just out for a stroll when spotted.”

“Scout team dispatched?”

“In the process. Major wants you and… all the non-combatants ready for evac.”

“That right?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Shamus powering up?”

“Not yet, ma’am.”

Colonel Starkes took the time to sip her coffee, gently closing her book. In pajamas, she decided to change into fatigues based on the update. Burroughs waited for her response.

“Connor MacMillen has until tomorrow to show up, Burroughs. You know that.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She glanced at her watch.

“It is a quarter to midnight. We wait until 18:00 tomorrow unless you’re told otherwise. That’s an order.”

“Understood. Only precautionary at this point.”

“Send the major in at once.”

“Umm, the major said you’d say that.”

“Oh, he did, did he?”

“He said to tell you he’s prepping for emergency defense. For you to do the same.”

“Hmmm, what the hell’s happening Burroughs?”

“Just precautionary. We’re all on edge tonight, ‘specially Rice.”

“Why?”

“Ummm…”

“Burroughs?”

A clear, implicit edge carried her voice. Lieutenant Burroughs answered.

“Shamus is saying something about mathematical probabilities and fancy algorithms to the major.”

“Yeah?”

“And the major talked with the men.”

“Dammit, Burroughs! Talk some straight shit!”

“Yes, ma’am. With Rice’s sixth sense, things started going a bit screwy.”

“Screwy?”

“Yeah, it seems there’s an overall consensus something might happen before Connor MacMillen arrives is all… and, by all of Shamus’s probability analysis, yesterday or today’s the days we’re most vulnerable.”

“That right?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Burroughs carefully scrutinized the wall beyond her, waiting for her further response.

“My orders are that we wait until tomorrow unless fired upon, understood?”

“I’ll let the major know.”

“Do that.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Angry, the colonel barked. “Dismissed.”

Burroughs sharply saluted, leaving as fast as he entered.

“This is Snuff. Do you copy?”

“Go ahead, Snuff. Over.”

“Surf Boy and I concur. You’re not gonna make it with the team in time. We need to alert… ah, POTUS about this attack right now. Over.”

“We’re fifteen minutes out. Over.”

“We think it’s gonna go down now , over.”

“What tactical suggestions can you make, over?”