A Father's Justice Pt. 05

"Not at all, sir," she said, giving him a kiss.

"None of that, now," Buster bellowed in a good-natured tone as he entered the kitchen, causing them all to laugh. Beverly finished making the sandwiches and sat them on the kitchen counter, then poured each a glass of sweet tea.

"I hope y'all like egg salad and sweet tea," she said.

"Love egg salad, ma'am," Cap said as he took a bite out of his sandwich. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," she said.

"Ryan, you'd better hang on to that woman," Cap said. "Anyone who can make egg salad this good is a keeper."

"I intend to," Ryan said. They spent the next half hour or so eating their sandwiches and catching up. When they finished eating, Ryan spoke again.

"Bill won't be here for a while, so I might as well bring y'all up to date on the situation," he said. "When Bill gets here, we'll go over the plan." He spent the next hour or so telling them all the story of what had transpired since the day Bob came into his life.

"Bloody hell," Ian said when Ryan finished.

"I agree," Ryan told him.

"You screwed up letting Jake live, you know that, don't you?" Buster asked.

"Perhaps," Ryan said. "I actually considered killing the bastard, but I thought better of it. If I had, I would probably have ended up in jail."

"You're right," Cap said. "And there would've been two witnesses to it."

"How'd you manage that with just the one eye?" Ian asked.

"Wasn't easy, but I've been working out," Ryan said.

"So you can function in the field, then?" Ian asked.

"I manage," Ryan said. They heard a vehicle pull in front of the house. Ryan looked and saw it was a dark SUV. He noticed Agent Smith getting out of the car.

"Hide those weapons," he said. "I'll take care of this." He walked out the door and stood on his porch as Agent Smith walked up to him.

"So, you heard what happened?" Ryan asked.

"I did," Agent Smith said. "I figured you'd be putting something together."

"And you thought you'd try to stop me, is that it?" Ryan asked. "I did it your way, and look at what that's gotten us."

"You don't understand, Ryan," Smith said. "You don't mind if I call you Ryan, do you?"

"Not at all," Ryan said.

"Roger Gillespie, one of the agents protecting your daughter, was a good friend of mine," Smith said. "He was the best man at my wedding and I was his best man. His little boy is my godson."

"So, what is the bureau doing?" Ryan asked.

"Not a goddamn thing," Smith said. "It's all politics. They're all trying to dig their thumbs out of their collective asses hoping they can save face with the politicos in Washington. Knight Petroleum is very powerful in certain circles. There's even talk the president might issue a blanket pardon if anyone's convicted."

"So, what do you want from me?" Ryan asked.

"I want to join you," Smith said. "I figured you're planning something and I want to help."

"I'm not out to arrest anyone," Ryan said. "I don't believe in taking prisoners. You understand that, right?"

"I figured that," Smith said.

"But can you live with it?" Ryan asked.

"This isn't my first rodeo, you know," Smith said. "I spent time in the SEALs before I joined the Bureau. So, to answer your question, yes, I can live with it."

"Doesn't sit too well with that badge," Ryan said.

"Right now, I'm not an agent," Smith said. "Like you, I want justice." Ryan regarded him for a moment before answering. It was possible Smith was simply trying to worm his way in only to arrest them all later. But the look on Smith's face and the fire in his eyes said something different.

"Okay," Ryan said. "Welcome to the party," he added, extending a hand. Smith grasped his hand and they shook. Just then, a dark panel van came up the driveway and stopped in front of his house. Ryan looked at his watch -- 5:00 pm, on the dot. As he watched, Bob, Jorge and Bill climbed out and made their way to the porch, where Ryan made introductions.

"Ryan, I want to come with you," Bob said. "I know I haven't seen a lot of combat like you, but I want to do my part. It's my family, after all."

"You have any military training at all, son?" Ryan asked.

"I was in the Army Reserves for four years," he said. "My unit got deployed to Iraq for about eight months."

"Reserves," Ryan said. "What'd you do in Iraq?"

"I spent some time as a door gunner on a helo," Bob said. "I don't know if that will be any help to you, though."

"Door gunner?" Ryan asked. "You ever operate an M134 Minigun?" Bob chuckled.

"Yeah," Bob said. "Don't tell me you've actually got one of those." Ryan smiled.

"Today's your lucky day, son," he said. "Not only do we have an M134, we also have a Huey to carry it."

"No shit?" Bob asked.

"No shit, son," Ryan said. "C'mon inside. We have some planning to do." Ryan motioned for them to enter the house, and closed the door behind him when they were all inside. After introductions, Ryan sat everyone down and asked Beverly to dole out the beer. After everyone had a beer he stepped forward.

"We got some planning to do, fellas," he said. "But first, we have a little tradition. Ian, will you do the honors?" Ian stood up and raised his beer.

"'Ere's to Dawson, and all the other blokes who never made it back 'ome," he said. Everyone raised their beer.

"Dawson," the veteran mercenaries repeated before taking a long swig from their beers. Beverly, Bob and Smith joined in. When they finished, Smith raised his beer.

"To my friend, Roger Gillespie, who gave his life protecting Sarah and her son," he said. Everyone raised their beer.

"To Gillespie," they all said, taking another long drink.

"Normally, we'd break our bottles on the ground," Ryan said. "But since this is a fairly new carpet, we'll just have to forego that part of the tradition." Everyone laughed. "There's been a slight change in plan. Jim, meet your new door gunner," he said, putting a hand on Bob's shoulder.

"You ever fire a minigun?" Jim said. Bob nodded his head.

"I have, in Iraq," he said.

"Alright, then. When we're done here, you can join me and we'll get it mounted up for you, alright?" Jim asked.

"Yeah," Bob said. Beverly came to Ryan and took him by the arm.

"I want to come, too," she said. Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked at her, shocked.

"Sweetheart, this isn't a pleasure trip," Ryan said. "You could get seriously hurt."

"But we're partners," she said. "Where you go, I go, remember?"

"Ryan's right, Beverly," Smith said. "Besides, what would you do?"

"Actually, I could use her help in the comm post," Bill said. "Have you seen the inside of that thing? Jorge's got so many damn monitors and things, there's no way I can watch it all by myself." Ryan thought it over for a few moments. Bill was a good man, but his prosthetic leg would hinder his movement in the field, and having someone with him to watch the monitors would free up Jorge. He looked at Bill.

"You'll train her and make sure she has protection, right?" he asked.

"Absolutely, boss," Bill said. Ryan nodded his head.

"Okay, after we plan the op, you get her out there and start training her," Ryan said.

"Will do, boss," Bill said. Ryan looked at Beverly.

"Promise me you'll be careful," he said.

"I will, Ryan," she said. "Thank you for letting me be part of this. I'm sorry if I embarrassed you or made you upset." He took her in his arms and smiled into her face.

"I'm not embarrassed or upset," he said. "I couldn't be more proud of you right now. Besides, it'll give us something to tell the grandkids one day." She smiled back up at him.

"Really?" she asked. "You mean that?"

"Of course," he said. "Now, c'mon, let's go plan this out." They all went into Ryan's office where he had the map and the layout of the camp. They spent the next two hours planning out the operation. When they ironed out the plan of attack, Bill handed everyone what looked like a GoPro camera that attached to their body armor and a communication unit with an earbud at the end of a spiral wire. Each unit had a number stenciled on it. Ryan's was numbered "1."

"Okay," Bill said. "Call sign, as always, is Whiskey Delta. Ryan, of course, is Whiskey Delta One. Everyone else's numbers are on their comm units. We'll be monitoring your actions in the CP. That's 'command post' for those of you not familiar with the term," he added, looking at Beverly.

"What does Whiskey Delta mean?" she asked.

"War Dogs," Jim said. "It's from the old line, 'cry havoc! And let slip the dogs of war.' That's Shakespeare, you know."

"So, that means Ryan is the number one war dog?" she asked innocently. Everyone else snickered. She looked around, not understanding what was so funny.

"Something like that," Buster said.

"Alright," Ryan said. "We leave at 2300, or 11:00 pm. That'll put us on target at 0130. It's still light enough out to get everything set up, so let's go." Bill and Jorge handed everyone a set of night vision goggles. Bob went with Jim to the helicopter to get the minigun set up and Bill took Beverly to the CP to start her training. Just then, a sheriff's patrol car pulled up in front of the house.

"Crap," Ryan said quietly as he watched Sheriff Coltrane get out of his vehicle. Ryan looked at Agent Smith. "I'll need you to help deal with this," he said. Smith nodded his head and put on his best official face.

"Sheriff Coltrane," Ryan said with a smile on his face. "What can I do for you, sir?"

"I was driving by and saw all the activity, and that chopper out back and was just curious," the sheriff said. "You got some kind of a party going on here, or what?" Agent Smith pulled out his credentials and showed them to the sheriff.

"Special Agent Smith, FBI," he said, identifying himself. "Are you THE Sheriff Coltrane?"

"As a matter of fact, yes, I am," the sheriff said, puffing himself up.

"I've heard good things about you, sheriff," Smith said.

"I'm happy to oblige the FBI whenever I can," the sheriff said.

"Good," Smith said with a smile. "I'm glad to hear it. Listen, Mr. Caldwell is helping us with a very special operation and I'd consider it a personal favor if you could help us out."

"What can I do?" the sheriff asked.

"We'll be leaving here about 1100 hours, and I'd appreciate it if you could clear the road for us, say, from here to the state line. Can you do that, sheriff?" he asked.

"Of course, I can," Sheriff Coltrane said. "Is this one of them black operations?"

"Something like that. The most secret operation you can imagine, sheriff," Smith said. "Lives are in the balance here, so I'd appreciate it if you said nothing about this to anyone. I do mean nothing. In fact, it would be best if you just forgot we were even here."

"Consider it done, Agent Smith," he said. "Uh, just how secret is this?"

"This is so secret that only a very few people even know it's happening," Smith said. "That's why I'm counting on you to help us keep it that way. Truth is, I've probably broken federal law just telling you it's going to happen. You realize that it's treason if this gets out, and you know the penalty for that." Coltrane gulped as he considered what Smith said.

"You've got my solemn word, Agent Smith," he said. "No one will ever hear about this from me."

"Thanks, Sheriff," Ryan said. "We'll let you know when we're ready to go." Ryan and Smith went back into the house and walked into the office.

"You know, I'm probably going to hell for this," Smith said. Ryan chuckled.

"I don't think so," Ryan said. "At least not without a good fight." Ryan donned his web gear and pulled out his fighting knife. It was the largest knife Smith had ever seen. Ryan picked up a piece of paper and deftly cut it in two.

"Damn," Smith said. "Now that's a knife."

"Is that your service pistol?" Ryan asked, pointing to the pistol in Smith's shoulder holster.

"Yes it is, why?" Smith asked.

"Leave it," Ryan said, walking to the open gun cabinet in the office. "Along with all your ammo."

"But what will I use?" Smith asked. Ryan handed him a much older .45 caliber M1911 pistol and several fully-loaded magazines, already in carrying pouches.

"This," Ryan said.

"Where'd you get this from?" Smith asked.

"You don't really want to know," Ryan said. "Last I heard, it came up from Mexico." Smith checked the pistol and observed the serial number has been filed off. He checked the action and inspected the magazines.

"Mexico, huh?" Ryan asked.

"That's what I heard," Ryan said. "I think it was one of the guns in that Fast and Furious scandal a while back, but I'm not 100 percent sure."

"Uh huh," Smith said, placing the pistol in his shoulder holster. Ryan tossed Smith a can of camo paint. Smith caught it and put it in his jacket pocket.

"Put that on when we get to the state line," Ryan said. "You have gloves, I hope?"

"Gloves?" Smith asked. "Why?"

"Fingerprints," Ryan said. "I don't want to leave anything that might lead back to us, just in case."

"Good thinking," Smith said. "Yeah, I have a pair of gloves."

"Leave 'em," Ryan said. "Use these," he added, tossing him a pair of black gloves. "I don't want any GSR on your gloves if we can help it."

"What about my jacket?" Smith asked.

"Leave that as well," Ryan said. "Use one of mine if you have to. We're about the same size." Smith looked in Ryan's cabinet and found a dark green lightweight jacket. He put it on and Ryan tossed him a camo floppy hat and a kevlar vest. Smith put it on and Ryan checked him over. He nodded his head when he was done.

"You'll do," Ryan said.

"Gee, thanks," Smith said sarcastically. Ryan smiled and looked at his watch.

"About time to go," he said. He keyed the microphone on his vest. "Time to go," he said quietly. "Whiskey Delta 7, give us a 15 minute head start, then head out."

"Roger that," Jim said in response. According to the plan, Smith, Jorge, Ryan, Bill and Beverly would ride in the van while everyone else would take the helicopter. Smith walked out as Ryan turned off the lights and locked the doors.

Smith went to the van, where Jorge, Bill and Beverly were waiting and Ryan went to the sheriff's car.

"Just so you know, Sheriff, we won't be using our main headlights," Ryan said. "We'll have our parking lights on until we hit the state line."

"How will you see?" Sheriff Coltrane asked, confused. Ryan held up a pair of night vision goggles. "Damn," the sheriff said. "You people really know what you're doing, don't ya?"

"I like to think so," Ryan said. "And remember what we said earlier. Besides, you promised me if I ever needed anything to ask."

"I remember," the sheriff said.

"Route us around the town, if you would," Ryan said. "I don't want folks wondering what's going on."

"Good idea," the sheriff said. "We can take that new bypass. It's faster and it'll save y'all some time."

"Okay," Ryan said. "Watch for my colleague's signal and we'll follow you. I want to stop at the station at the junction of Highway 62 for gas." He shook the sheriff's hand and got in the van, where he saw Beverly and Bill sitting in front of a large collection of monitors and communication equipment built into what had to be a custom setup. Beverly was wearing a kevlar vest and a helmet sat on the console in front of her.

"You ready, dear?" he asked. She nodded her head, nervous. "Don't worry. You'll do just fine."

"That's what I've been telling her," Bill said.

"Let's roll," Ryan shouted. Jorge waved and motioned to the sheriff, who waved back before turning his car around. They headed out and as they got on the blacktop, Bill turned back to the consoles, showing Beverly more features of the system.

"You got a police scanner in here?" Ryan asked.

"Of course," Bill said.

"Turn it on," Ryan ordered. "I want to make sure our sheriff doesn't make any unwanted calls."

"Got it, boss," Bill said, turning on the scanner. They heard nothing but normal late-night chatter, with the sheriff saying he was going to patrol the bypass on out to the state line.

"10-4," the dispatcher said. They listened, but Sheriff Coltrane remained true to his word and mentioned nothing of the van behind him. They sped on into the night, and pulled over at the gas station by the junction to Highway 62. Jorge jumped out and filled the tank.

"If you need to hit the bathroom, this is your chance," Ryan said.

"I gotta go -- bad," Beverly said.

"Me too," Bill said.

"Okay," Ryan said. "Make it fast." A few minutes later, they were back and headed north into New Mexico. Jorge waved at Sheriff Coltrane as he crossed the state line. He secured his night vision goggles and turned off his lights. Ryan looked at Beverly and took her hand. She was trembling. He squeezed her hand and smiled.

"It's alright, dear," he said. "Piece of cake." She nodded her head.

"Piece of cake, right," she said. "Maybe for you. I'm scared to death."

"That's normal. Take a deep breath," Ryan said. "Then hold it." She followed his direction. "Now, slowly let it out." She obeyed as he watched. "Just do that a couple more times. You're doing just fine."

"You really did this for a living?" she asked.

"Yeah, I did," Ryan said. "So did Bill here."

"How did you do it all those years?" she asked.

"One day at a time," Ryan said. "Isn't that right, Bill?" He nodded his head.

"Yup," he said.

"Didn't you ever get scared?" she asked.

"All the time," Ryan said. Bill nodded his head.

"Then why did you do it?" she asked.

"It's what we were paid to do," Ryan told her. "The fear helps keep us alert." Soon, they were on the road overlooking the camp and Jorge pulled off onto the road leading to the main gate.

"Stop here," Ryan said quietly. Jorge pulled off the road so the brush would help conceal the van. Ryan knew they were about 50 yards from the front gate. He pulled out two crossbows and handed one to Smith.

"You any good with this?" he asked. Smith nodded his head. "Good. Let go." Ryan rummaged around and grabbed two remote charges Cap had handed him earlier, then he, Smith and Jorge quietly climbed out of the van, making sure not to make any noise that might alert the guards. Ryan handed a crossbow to Smith and they crept up the road until they were just a few yards from the gate. Two guards sat at the gate, and Ryan could tell they were asleep in their chairs. He motioned for Smith to take out the one on the right side of the road. They took careful aim and fired.

The bolts shot out as the bows made a "thwip" sound. The two guards fell over, dead. Ryan and Smith handed the bows to Jorge.

"Get these back to the van, then get back up here as fast as you can," Ryan whispered. Jorge nodded his head and left with the two bows. They crept up to the gate and saw no one else. Ryan looked in the small guard shack and saw an array of indicators on a console. No doubt, he thought, warning lights for sensors in the brush surrounding the camp.

He pulled out his knife and cut all the cables he could see. Noticing the large gnarly dogwood trees on either side of the narrow road, Ryan placed a charge at the base of each one and turned the detonators on as Cap instructed.

Confident they still hadn't been spotted, he slowly lifted the gate so the van could get in when the time came. They looked in the compound and noticed two large black SUVs parked in front of one of the buildings. Ryan motioned to Smith.

"Those weren't there yesterday," he whispered. Smith nodded and looked at the vehicles.

"Mexican plates," Smith whispered. "From Chihuahua. Any idea who they might belong to?"

"None," Ryan whispered. By then, Jorge had made it back. Ryan pointed to the building where he saw Sarah and Ryan taken the previous day. "That's our target," he whispered. Jorge and Smith nodded their heads. Ryan keyed his microphone and issued the command.