Dale Brown - Edge of Battle

“Miss Cass, the fact that you showed up here without any prior notice tells me that not only do you not have authority over me, but you initiated this visit on your own without any authorization from anyone—not even the Department of Justice,” Jason said. He half-turned to Falcone and said, “Captain Falcone, make a note of the time, please.”

“Yes, sir,” Falcone said, surreptitiously checking the device strapped to his wrist.

“Dr. Vega, I would like you to call the White House from the secure radio in the command vehicle,” Jason went on. “Advise them of the situation here and ask for instructions.”

“Sure, J,” Ariadna said a little worriedly, turning and heading for the exit.

“You’re not going anywhere, Dr. Vega. Director Lombard.” The ICE director motioned, and two men wearing black BDUs, black bulletproof vests emblazoned with the letters “U.S. MARSHAL” on the front, Kevlar helmets, and carrying suppressed MP-5 submachine guns quickly stepped forward to block the tent exit. “You’ve forced me to take drastic action, Major Richter. No one leaves, and no one makes any calls until I say so.”

“What do you think you’re doing, Miss Cass—trying to start a fight in here?” Jason asked. He wore a slight smile as he casually put his hands behind his back. “Why the guns? Aren’t we all on the same side?”

“I will get your cooperation, Major, any way I must,” Cass said seriously. “I heard how you treat those in authority, especially federal law enforcement agents, and it won’t happen here. You could have done this the easy way. You want to be treated like an adversary, like you have something to hide—fine, you will be.” The U.S. marshals took Jason’s and Ariadna’s sidearms away from them. “Now let’s all go into your office, Major, while Director Lombard begins his interview with Captain Falcone. You will call in all of the personnel involved in last night’s incident and have them report to us here immediately. I want your records, logs, technical data, and downloads from your robots, and I want them in the next five minutes or I will take this entire camp apart piece by piece until I find them.”

“Five minutes?” Jason remarked, smiling. “I think we can have something for you a lot sooner than that. Captain?”

“Ready when you are, sir,” Falcone said.

“Show Miss Cass what we have.”

“Roger that, sir.” Hidden behind Richter, Falcone pressed a button on his wrist device…

…and seconds later the top of the TEMPER module they were standing in ripped open, and one of the Cybernetic Infantry Devices peered inside. “Everyone freeze and drop your weapons!” a machine’s electronic voice shouted. The CID unit immediately grabbed the marshals who were carrying weapons—one agent was grabbed by the upper arm, the other by his left shoulder. Both officers screamed in pain and terror as they were hauled up off their feet.

“What in hell…!” Lombard cried out, immediately reaching for his sidearm.

“No!” Jason said, still smiling. “No guns! It will detect guns and…”

But it was far too late. No sooner had Director Lombard’s gun cleared his holster than the CID unit walked quickly through the nylon side of the TEMPER module and swung the captured marshals at Lombard, knocking him off his feet. The CID unit kept moving forward until Lombard was pinned against the other side of the module, unable to move his hands or arms, with the two U.S. marshals dangling painfully in midair above him.

Falcone found Lombard’s sidearm on the deck, unloaded it, and stuck it into a flight-suit pocket, while Jason and Ari retrieved their sidearms and the FBI agent’s submachine guns, unloaded them, and tossed them aside. “CID One, drop your captives,” he ordered. The CID unit’s armored fingers opened, and the marshals clambered to the floor of the ruined TEMPER module beside Lombard, holding dislocated and bruised arms and shoulders. “Ari, go get a doctor and a couple security guys to help these clowns. CID One, back up ten meters and assume weapon guard position.”

“Major Richter, are you insane?” Annette Cass shouted. “You just attacked three federal agents! ”

Jason moved forward quickly and snatched Cass’s weapon from her holster—she was plainly too shocked to even notice her weapon was gone. He unloaded it and tossed it aside. “And you walked on to a TALON firebase and had the balls to draw down on us? You’re the insane one, Miss Cass. We’re in an area already known for heavy terrorist activity, possibly including the Consortium—the CID units are programmed to respond to all armed threats with maximum force. You’re lucky CID One used their whole bodies as bludgeons and not just their limbs.”

“J, more company,” Ari radioed. “Two choppers inbound, about a mile out.”

“Any identification?”

“Nope.”

“Where’s the Condor?”

“I ordered them to launch the Condor immediately,” she replied. “They’ll maintain surveillance on the base and send imagery to Cannon.” Cannon Air Force Base, near Clovis, New Mexico, was the home base of Task Force TALON.

“Good.” To Falcone, he said, “Falcon, mount up. Get behind those choppers and take them down if they attack.”

“I don’t have any weapons, boss—how am I supposed to take them down?”

“Think of something—jump on them, toss a cactus at them, distract them—just do it, Falcon.” Falcone immediately ordered CID One to assume the pilot-up stance, and he was inside the robot and moving in less than thirty seconds, racing across the desert out of sight. “Captain Gray, you expecting anyone?” Jason asked the Rampart One commander.

“Negative,” Gray replied. He was still breathless and bug-eyed from the sudden and incredibly lightning-quick flurry of activity that had just occurred right in front of his eyes. “Any inbounds are supposed to get clearance from me or Top first through your headquarters or the White House.”

“That’s the FBI, Richter!” Cass exploded. “They’re here to start the investigation on the death of that migrant last night! Are you hallucinating or are you on some kind of power trip?”

Jason ignored her. “Gray, take the injured to the infirmary and the rest to the dog-pens and lock them up…”

“That consulate officer too?”

“The consulate officer too—until he can be positively ID’d, as far as I’m concerned, he’s Consortium,” Jason said. “Have the rest of your men on full alert until we figure out what’s going on.” Gray issued orders to the physician, medics, and security forces that arrived moments later, and Cass and the others that were with her were hustled out. Jason keyed the mike button on his radio: “Ari…”

“They’re coming in pretty slow, J,” she radioed from her command Humvee near the Condor airship’s landing pad. “Staying in formation…about a half-mile out…slowing even more. Looks like they’re starting to circle the perimeter. Wait…I see crests on the sides of both choppers. One looks like an FBI patch…confirmed, and I can see the letters FBI on the tail. The other says U.S. BORDER PATROL on the side. They look like the real deal, J.”

“TALON One, Rampart One,” Ben Gray radioed a moment later. “Top just got a call from one of those choppers. The caller on board says she’s FBI Director DeLaine. She apologized for not calling in first and is requesting permission to land. They gave the proper authentication.”

Jason finally let out a nervous sigh of relief and holstered his own sidearm. “Let them in, Captain,” he said wearily. On his command radio, he said, “CID One, stay out of sight until we verify everyone’s ID out here.”