Having Fun with Dycke and Payne Ch. 09

A telephone repairman, on the south side of Dorchester Road, told his leader what he needed to hear: One car in front, the limousine in the middle, and one car behind. They had done exactly what he had hoped. They had let enough time go by, and they had let their guard down.

Grigory asked, "Illia are you sure? No one is leaving the airport in unmarked cars, or trucks?"

Illia said, "There is no other traffic leaving the airport, at this time."

Grigory clicked is microphone twice

His henchmen, Illia, disguised as the repairman, put his equipment away, and started down the pole. He opened the rear doors of the truck, and put his tool belt on a post. He walked back to pick up the orange safety cones. He stowed them away, also. He watched, as two cars passed him, with his compatriots on board, to do their part in this very lucrative job. Now, he had to go to the 'Executive Airport,' and preflight the two aircraft. In less than one hour, he would be piloting one aircraft, over the Atlantic Ocean, on their way to the Ivory Coast. He sat down on the seat of the truck, put the keys in the ignition, and fell asleep. He had been shot in the neck, with a tranquilizer dart.

The chase cars were comfortably behind Dycke's entourage, when a supercharged Chevy Camaro pulled up to the rear of a Humvee. The driver of the vehicle kept sounding the horn, of his car and did not stop. Dycke's group moved, between two eighteen wheelers, to let this erratic driver pass. The chase cars would never know that this was all part of a trap, from which they would not emerge.

The 'shoppers' watched six men, loitering at the edges of their shopping center. They were wearing long raincoats, on a clear, seventy-five degree day. The FBI sharpshooters had been alerted, and the enemies' positions marked on a map.

The 'shoppers' changed into their armor and black FBI clothing. Everyone was in position. They waited, for their opponent, to make the opening move.

The board was set. The pawns were in place. The bishops were ready to crisscross the sky, while watching, and recording the action below. The knights were in their cars, ready to charge into action. The castles were the, two 18 wheeled, food delivery trucks, loaded with armed FBI agents. The queen was with her king, and his court.

This was not a position for the weak of mind or heart. Black waited for white to make the opening move. As soon as the traffic light on Dorchester Road and Appian Way turned red, white made the opening gambit. The game was afoot. Death would be the endgame.

The End