Not Quite a White Knight Vol. 04.2

According to Crow, after the bloody sacrifice party the mob would be given a short-term "zombie" drug, then herded onto chartered cargo planes. He didn't know the destination - LA and the surrounding counties had a lot of airports - under a mild sedative. They would deplane directly onto busses or trucks where loaded weapons were waiting, and driven directly to the Pablo for the meth-fueled attack. A final "inspiration" cocktail of meth, PCP and other drugs would be mandatory on the final ride.

Crow thought a waffle house was reserved for the after-party. They would not fill a booth.

Crow had no idea about how the border crossing aspect would be handled. It looked massive but since it was a one-time suicide mission I would guess brute force of over 150 guys with automatic weapons crashing through at a soft spot of airport security would work. Maybe one bribe to a degenerate druggie who covered it well and knew the system would take care of most things. Automatic weapons could deal with the rest.

I had to ask a question. If Tony was not there to guest star, who would they get? (When we picked up Crow we appeared to shoot Tony dead.)

That stumped Crow for a moment. He said they would probably kidnap somebody to take his place. They really preferred at least one woman to sacrifice, but he said two would be better. The reasons he mentioned were really too disgusting to repeat.

I took a 5 minute recess and made a call to the 49 security center, giving orders to increase border security until after Labor Day. I also put somebody on a search for busses to carry 150 gangers. That was a long-shot, if I was doing this op I would steal busses from several school bus companies at the last minute, when they were gassed up and ready for school to start Tuesday. There would be a slight risk of using school busses on a non-school day. Perhaps somebody on the other side had other ideas about putting out money for charter busses instead. LA gets some big tourist action.

For both the party and the attack there were to be more than 130 hard-core fanatic meth-warriors involved, self-selected devotees from all the chapters, along with maybe 10 to 20 "sacred guides" (AKA mob herders) who would stay sober, watching over the faithful, guiding them in the attack. Finally their would be 20 to 40 selected combat vets who would lead the attack, with an enhanced drug mix to go with their place at the front of the line. This is the annual ritual for ambitious new leaders to be accepted into the gangs elite, assuming they survived. Crow said most years the survival rate is 20% to 50%, because of the superior numbers and element of surprise.

Tony would have been invited to join the leadership this year, except his wife got naked and blackballed him with the leaders, so they planned to use him as the sacrificial male instead.

In all it was meth head planning at its finest. I finally let Crow sleep, with a little helper. To calm him I gave him some ear plugs to keep the spiders out of his ears for a time; he would have kissed my hand if he wasn't chained down. Then I reminded him that the spider who was already inside could not get out. That would help his sleep.

This wasn't kindness or generosity, he needed to get enough sleep each night to answer questions until September. Then things could get less pleasant for him.

It was just after noon when he was back in his cell. I called for a 30 minute lunch break - Nia made a homemade soup and sandwiches. Then a debrief.

-

During lunch Tony dug up a shot of the location from space-based map program. It looked harmless from space - just two fields connected by a path. I sent a quick email outlining the situation to Jax and my uncle Martin at the mansion.

Of course the pictures didn't show the important part.

-

Chapter 16. DeBrief

Thursday afternoon

I was feeling a little depressed, because of the way the cops figured in. Simply staging the large attack made it a huge loss for 49 and my future plans, because it would open the building. Once the cops got in they might find things like my tricked-out M113 Armored City-Bopper Vehicle (fireproofed, extra steel armor, with grenade launcher, a Gustav recoilless and extra armor) in the sub-basement of the parking garage. I rarely felt depressed, but this was an exception.

"They take over a pyramid is Mexico?" Irene asked Tony.

"Yeah, well... a small one... on an indian reservation in the Yucatan. They use the place twice a year. The wife and I went once for a non-lethal family holiday at the start of the summer, Memorial Day two years ago. Tonto stayed home. In the spring there was no human sacrifice, only family fun and games like massive paintball wars during the day, plus adult fun and games at night. I didn't play but my wife did disappear a few times, 'to visit some new friends.' It was especially great for couples with teens, they can meet and make friends. But because of the dense woods with spiders all over, there are a lot of spiders, so the teenage girls don't wander off into the super dense woods with boys, everything stays in the open. By contrast the Labor day thing is a horror show. All the hard-cores gather, festivities take place at night. The pyramid was Mayan, a small earthen one maybe 40 to 60 feet tall that is now a small very steep oddly symmetrical hill in the jungle. It was actually the genesis for the gang; some founders were hiking one winter, they found it and thought it was Aztec Indian in origin. It is older than that. I will say the place has a magic about it - plus there are a lot of spiders around."

Tony went on to explain how the gang bought the land cheap and then paid the local indian tribe to declare the area around the land a private 'sacred' reservation, to keep the folks away. "The authorities don't care about the crazy gringos as long as they bring cash, leave without the cash, and don't leave a mess where it can be seen by troublemakers, like reporters," Tony said. "The locals have to live with serious drug cartels. The wacko twice-a-year mob of drug users counted as good people because they didn't hang naked bodies in public," like cartels.

At the start the so-called gang was mainly college students. A few were in biology and chemistry, they started the cooking, but most were just rebels without a cause who got lucky when they pulled a few crimes, built a lab and sold some meth. Eventually some real bad folks got in.

Using the picture from one of the mapping programs on the computer, then explained the layout of the Spider Woods. "I call it a woods, but most of the plant life is dense shrubs with thorns, like living barbed wire. Really dense, impossible to move through. Maybe a hundred years ago it was clear pasture, there is rusted barbed wire out there, but the jungle reclaimed the land."

A gravel road ran along the North edge of the reservation, connecting to the sea for seasonal fishing. "The road was built where the soil changed to a almost sand and gravel mix, marking a change in vegetation. Tall grasses grow north of the road." The west was bounded by a river that was the east end of a large nasty swamp. To the east and south was the coast of the sea.

The campground was two miles from the sea, built with an entrance to the road. There were two large clear areas, one a parking lot and the other the party space with the pyramid at one end. The two were connected by a dog-leg walkway. Tony said it was built that way to avoid a rock-strewn hill with some large trees. "Too much bother to take out, they wanted a flat path so they went around. As I said, the first members were college students."

"What about these spiders?" I asked.

"They swarm, lots, with nasty bites including some that are fatal. Also lots of other nasties like snakes, hornets, centipedes, etc. They managed to clear and expand the parking lot and pyramid area during the first winter, when insect level is low, using burning, dynamite and then bulldozers. The founders mixed up a heavy custom pesticide, something illegal, plus a very targeted herbicide is spread on the ground. Then they fog the cleared area a week ahead of each holiday, to create a spider-free-zone for a short period. They use sealed tractors to fog and saturation-spray the poison. It is strictly a holding action, nature takes back the land each year."

So the question was, how to stop them? If these clowns landed in LA we had already lost the war even if we killed them all. Bringing down a chartered airplane over land - even Mexico - was not something I wanted to do, they investigate the heck out of it. That left engaging the enemy on the ground in Mexico. Who would notice? Who would care? Okay, those were easy questions.

But just how to engage them with the greatest chance of success? Especially since they lived in what was effectively a fort with walls that were miles thick? They entrance to the combat area was too small, the attacker would face terrible tradeoffs on strange grounds. The party was a month away, we needed a plan to train for. Well, that was a military question and it was why I had real military planners handy.

Irene had the answer, I saw it in her eyes, but she let Rojas make the suggestion.

Rojas said single word that crystalized the plan in a moment. "Mortars. Can we borrow the Patron's..."

"Don't say it," I cut him off. I was already there, but I wanted to hold something back from Tony.

Irene put her finger on a spot on the satellite photo. "Here... in range for us to walk the party field 100%, but too deep for them to counter, even if it was daylight and they were good troops ready for it. We can wipe them out without losing a man."

"They could escape, they have cars," Tony said, pointing to the parking lot.

Rojas had combat experience. "If we use claymores or turn the path to fire, it closes that door. Plus, an IED at the entrance to the parking lot and it is all over. Pileup on the only exit."

The military folks knew I had some special assets, so they left some details fuzzy, but otherwise they laid out a plan.

If we used mortars the dead-man's party would not even see us when we rain steel and fire on them. From the time Rojas said the word I felt better, everything else was downhill. For the first time 49 was going to run a lethal military op outside the country. We were ready. We roughed out a plan to kill them all from 200 hundred yards away. They would not even see us, much less shoot back. That is the trouble with a stronghold, the walls of their "fort" would trap them in the killing ground. Their only choice was to die without seeing their attackers.

You have seen cartoon pictures of a round steel bomb with a fuse sticking out, that was a mortar shell from the 1800's. The gunner cut the fuse to the proper length for the bomb's travel time through the air so it exploded above the enemy, raining destruction down on wooden ships or trenches or folks charging on horses or whatever. By nature it is indirect fire which needs spotters, the shooter does not generally see what he is shooting at, and is much safer if there is high ground between bomber and target. Modern mortars were smaller and lighter and radar-guided accurate with explosives that were much more powerful. My soldiers had a dozen in the armory in downtown LA, acquired by the Patron when his soldiers left somebody's military. They are pretty universal designs (most are copies of a French model) made to be carried by one with a second carrying the ammo. The American M2 was very popular.

Irene said "Mark 25F?" I nodded, that sounded ideal. She and I knew about some special ammunition a munitions company in Brazil had made up to order.

Some African customers had nasty ideas about what they wanted to shoot at their sworn enemies. About 10 years ago this not-quite-warlord Major ordered the design of a custom munition to shoot at his boss/enemy General, it was a method of moving up in rank. The Major ordered a production run of the Mark 25F mortar shell that "burst 300 feet over the target to fire down sub-munitions (steel bullets) coated with white phosphorus." These shells were not likely to be used by the military (short shelf life, dangerous for beginners, Geneva convention, etc.), but African major paid extra for a "superweapon" so the Brazilian company developed the wicked things. The company made one production run (2,500 shells) as requested. But his check only paid for the first third of the contract (mostly the R&D) so he was shipped about 10% of the shells. He complained, but the company in Brazil was not like the unarmed villagers the guy usually bullied. The arms maker was experienced with the appetites and finances of warlords.

Mortars are great if your position is secure, but it seemed that the first time the wanna-be-warlord used them his forces were outflanked by a handful of very expensive ex-SAS mercenaries employed by his General as trouble-shooters. They had a recoilless rifle and a heavy machine gun mounted on two Vietnam era military armored cars (Textron Commando). The 8 mercenaries cut the 50 man African mortar unit to pieces in less than a minute. They claimed the bounty on the dead Major - they provided most of his head. To get paid their full amount of their bounty the mercenaries eventually had to attack their employer and wipe out his elite bodyguards with some of the mortars they captured, but that is business as usual for mercenaries.

The Patron's firm in Brazil wrote the Major off as another former customer with a bad credit rating.

With the one solid customer dead, and the ammunition a failure in it's first use, the rest of the production run (2,250 shells) sat in inventory. The munitions company was really looking to unload them, the storage life was coming to an end and if they were not sold or destroyed in the next few years they might start to go off on their own, setting of some very expensive fireworks.

I called Uncle Martin and he ordered the nasty ammo packed for shipment. Practice and evaluation rounds were sent from Brazil via company jet to LA as an inter-company shipment scheduled for destructive testing, the company had a special permit for that. Maybe the guys flying the plane didn't know exactly what was in those heavy boxes. When it is permitted and says "explosive with fire" folks tend to leave the boxes sealed.

The eventual destruction would be in Mexico, but nobody would care about that.

Imagine a giant shotgun shooting straight down, except that the shotgun barrel is three inches across and instead of buckshot each shell packs a couple dozen flaming bullets. That was what each mortar shell was like. We figured on 6 mortars firing enough shells to cover the entire field. Each shell was RF "tagged" so our drones and radar could see where each shot went. Standard procedure was to "walk" the barrage through the target area like a moving curtain of death with overlapping kill zones.

There was another question for Tony. "If the woods are so dense, how could one get from the beach into range of the pyramid on foot? To place the mortars?"

Tony pointed to the map. "Except for this road, one couldn't. During the summer the woods and crawlies are thin the first 20 yards of so from the sea shore, because of the salt air and birds. But beyond that people have to wear sealed outfits, hiking 2 or 3 miles through really dense brush, and with temperatures so hot they overheat. The Aztex have 2 Juan Deere tractors that are sealed and covered with poison, but they stick to the cleared area and can't penetrate the woods. A jeep or ATV won't get anywhere. To go through the jungle you need a tank or something. If you did use the road, you open yourself up to the local cops and military, plus a possible counterattack."

I glanced at Irene and asked, "How about a bulldozer?"

Tony answered, "Well, yeah, that could get through the plants, but the crawlies would get you. Poison, remember? The Aztex tractors are sealed really well."

Well, we knew something with NBC protection (Nuclear, Biological and Chemical warfare sealing).

At that point I knew we would not settle the issue at BAD. I ordered a bug-out right away. We would all be out the door in 30 minutes. I made a quick call to an idle factory about a half hour away. They would get some visitors soon.

For Crow, I did not want the leave him with a short crew, that never works out well. But I didn't want to take the weight with us. So we used a hypodermic needle on a stick (used for dangerous animals) to give the sleeping Crow some curare, in case he was faking being asleep. Then we set him up with IVs that we figured would likely keep him alive but sleeping for 60 hours - assuming we had the doses right. Well, we double checked our math plus he could stand to lose some weight. By then I could send people back, we might have more questions.

-

Nia and Vrir drove us to LA. Irene and I were in one vehicle, using our phones virtually the entire trip for calls we did not want Tony or Cynthia to share. Everybody else was in the other vehicle. Tony was bagged for the last hour, on general principals. He understood and was very co-operative.

Our first calls were Irene's call to Uncle Martin at and mansion and my call to Jax at the Pablo. I gave them both of them an update of what we needed for assets and troops, then gave them 24 hours to come up with a plan.

I also figured a call to Ernie was a good move. I don't know what was planned in terms of Portland, but maybe cutting things short up there was a good idea also. It turned out Pammie's summer college classes ended August 7, and I figured they were safe until then.

Once we got to the LA county line I suggested Tony send a text to his son, using my burner phone which Cynthia had along. I suggested that he send a vague positive message that things were okay but he was dealing with things that he had discovered. Also, he was using a borrowed phone. He appreciated my consideration.

Tonto was with Pammie at lunch, and Cynthia was right there, so they each talked to the others just like a family. Lots of good feelings were shared, but no secrets.

-

Martin had some specialized knowledge - he was along when I acquired some toys - so he drew up a quick plan, along the same lines as Rojas and Irene had suggested, and started rounding up satellite maps and the assets we would need. Jax was surprised at the toys I had available, now he was putting together the troops needed. They would require some time training with "specialized equipment." I had already called the factory where the armor was fixed up after I got it, I had soldiers there 6 hours later. I gave the orders so things got rolling at Long Beach, that would take some time.

-

Jax called a small meeting as soon as he got my email, before noon. He grabbed a bunch of guys he could find, some nerds and some ex-military and asked them how to kill 100 to 150 drugged-out psychos with assault weapons, in the dark. They could not see how to do it without taking significant losses.

Then one of the younger nerds spoke up.

"Have you ever read C.S.Forester? He wrote books about naval battles in Napoleonic times." Now, in most LA gangs the guy like that would be beaten and thrown out on general macho principals. But in 49 they asked what his idea was.

"Bomb ketches. These battles were usually about who had the most guns to bring to bear by direct fire. Bomb Ketches were little ships with only a few guns, plus 1 or 2 big mortars at the front of the ships. They would toss those mortar shells - like the cartoon pictures of round bombs with a fuse - over a barrier, even another ship. They would time the explosion with the fuse. Just a few hits overhead would tear a big warship to toothpicks pieces without a shot being fired back."

"Clever idea except we don't have any mortars."