Special Weapons and Tactics Ch. 06

"You're here. Go ahead and make sure the house is clear before we start searching." Fred was an old pro and no dummy.

Frenchie led and I was right behind him with two of my guys completing the stack. Then I heard shouting and a short burst of full auto fire towards the back of the house. Then some shotgun blasts that were probably my guys or the patrolman responding. We were committed and had to follow procedure. We HAD to clear the house front to back, and fast but never carelessly. I hoped Frenchie remembered the well-worn mantra: "Slow is smooth, smooth is fast."

Before we all got in the house, someone stuck his arm out from a doorway with one of those fuckin' P90's and started spraying. Frenchie just crouched a little lower and fired a 3 round burst at the wall next to that doorway with his own MP5. I yelled "Duck!" And raised up and fired two blasts at the same wall with my 12 gauge pump loaded with single ought buckshot - and then tapped Frenchie and we both rushed that room. He glanced around the wall and then moved forward. One perp was on the ground clutching his shattered arm. Looked like it was hanging by threads and he might just lose it. Too bad he was still alive since he became a real complication. Frenchie grunted as he kneeled over him and gave him a real good pat down - then we had to have two of our guys carry him out for first aid. I was ready to let him bleed out, worried about my guys in back and where the other perp or perps might be.

As we headed into a hallway leading further back into the house a guy yelled out, "OK, I'm giving up! Don't shoot! Gun coming out!" And a Five-seven automatic clattered out into the hallway.

"Stick your hands out!" I yelled back. And he did, then slowly followed. Frenchie didn't move to get him and he just said, "I'll cover you." And I went forward and zip-tied him hard and fast.

Frenchie didn't sound right and he looked a little pale and shaky.

Damn it.

"How bad is it?" I asked him as calm as I could.

"Just one got thru into my appendix area."

"OK. Stay still. We'll clear the rest of the house real fast and get the EMT's in stat."

My other two guys were back already and staring at Frenchie. "Come on, guys - let's finish this." We found another perp shot dead in the back room. He must have been trying to climb out the window after clearing the way with his own P90. A bad gamble and he lost. We quickly checked the entire rest of the house and found what looked like a stack of covered paintings in another bedroom. As soon as the final "Clear!" sounded I got the EMT's in working on Frenchie and Fred and his partner in looking at the paintings. It was pretty obvious the big one wasn't here and there were only six in total.

It was another bad day for the Mobile PD and my unit in particular. Andy Thibideaux, my back-up sniper who was REALLY good shooting from boats, had also been wounded behind the house. He just caught one in the arm but he was going to be out of fully capable commission for a couple of months. Frenchie seemed to be stable and was already on the way to the hospital. He was conscious and trying to be a smartass but I was almost sick. The final word on Frenchie wasn't going to be known until after surgery.

My unit's attrition rate was comparable or higher than all the units I had been assigned to in Iraq. What. The. Fuck.

And I knew I needed to call Jenny and Gigi. And also Andy's own wife. He came from a real "swamp people" family and had learned to shoot sniping alligator's in open water in Louisiana - where such hunting was legal in season and with the proper tags. He really could shoot - one of the best I ever ran across without real formal sniper training.

I called Jenny first.

"Jenny, Frenchie got shot and is at the USA Medical Center. He was conscious and joking last time I saw him but ..."

"Oh my God! Are you OK? Anyone else hurt?"

"I'm OK but Andy Thibideaux caught one in the arm and is headed to USA also. Frenchie took one, I think, through his vest and in his lower torso. I need to call Gigi - and is Susan there?"

"Yes. Hold on." And I heard her yelling for Susan.

I could hear Jenny telling Susan that Frenchie got shot.

"John? Are you OK?"

"I'm fine, Susan. And I think Frenchie is going to be OK. But you might have to look after the kids if Jenny wants to come down to the hospital. OK?"

"Oh sure, John. I'm really OK and I'll do whatever I need too. I owe Jenny so much I can't begin to pay it all back."

"Thanks, honey. You just let the kids know I'm OK but I might be a little late tonight. I've got to talk to Gigi now. Bye."

Next I called Gigi but it went immediately to voicemail. I hated just leaving a message so I called Jenny back and asked her to try and let Gigi know. "All I'm getting is voicemail."

"Yeah, John - I've already called her and left a message. I don't know why it just went to voicemail. I'm on my way to the hospital with Carla and Susan is watching all the kids. I really appreciate her stepping up like that." Jenny sounded a tad annoyed at Gigi but certainly not Susan.

Next I called Andy's wife and she was already on the way to the hospital. One of his close buddies had already called her and she sounded pretty calm. I told her I would see her at the hospital real soon. I was on the way there myself. Finally I called Kevin and filled him in. We had taken 3 perps and recovered six paintings - but "Gettysburg" was not one of them.

"Guess maybe you did follow the wrong van. Unless they had already delivered it anyway. Any luck locating this "estate" yet?"

"I've got some top forensic accountants working on it but we only really have access to the public financial records so far. It's pretty hit and miss."

"OK - maybe something will break. Please just wait for normal Mobile PD notification on recovery of those six paintings right now. Maintaining a low profile remains in all our best interests."

I certainly expected some heat on how all this went down today. Almost 1/3rd of my unit had been shot since I took the reins. Maybe it was just some bad luck but people were bound to be a tad unhappy. Hell, I was unhappy about it, in all kinds of ways.

But at least none of my guys had died yet. Given the firepower we were facing maybe, just maybe, that was a sign of some good luck.

Jenny and Carla both hugged me in the surgical waiting room as we waited on word of Frenchie.

Andy had really lucked out - since his bullet was a through-and-through and missed the bone and arteries and major nerves. He was already out of surgery and sewed up and bandaged and wasn't even going to have to stay overnight. He was in the waiting room with us, with his young wife glued to his side. Gigi hadn't answered her phone yet or returned any calls and I could tell Jenny was getting a tad worried or upset about that. Finally she did call Jenny and got the word.

She showed up almost 45 minutes later and looked a mess - like she had been crying a lot and couldn't stop. Jenny and Carla hugged her and pretty much surrounded her and led her off to get some coffee or something. She didn't say "Hi" to me or anyone else - and she wouldn't look me in the eyes. Uh oh, I couldn't help thinking. Poor Frenchie. Getting shot maybe wasn't his biggest problem at all, right now. In any kind of normal reaction Gigi SHOULD have been giving me some shit about Frenchie being shot. She had made me promise once I wouldn't ever let that happen. Well, people break promises all the time...

Just then the surgeon came out and was pretty much all smiles. Frenchie was going to be fine, barring unforeseen complications. He had lost his appendix which merely meant he would never have to worry about appendicitis. He had also lost a foot of large intestine - but they had resectioned and sewn that up and that was what had taken so long. They cleaned out everything they could and he would be on antibiotics for a week guarding against peritonitis. He should be up and walking tomorrow and out of the hospital in about 5 days if everything went as expected.

He said Frenchie was in recovery and almost lucid and was asking for his wife. Gigi looked scared to go see him but Jenny gently pushed her forward. She was crying silently and they didn't look like tears of joy. Oh boy.

I looked at Jenny and quietly asked "coffee?" And she nodded and we headed for the cafeteria.

"What's going on with Gigi? Anything I need to know about - to help Frenchie?"

She just sighed. "She won't come clean with me, but I think she's leaving him. There's probably someone else already. She had no real explanation for where she was today so long with her phone off. Auditioning for a movie? Really??? She said something about her moving to LA and Frenchie knows it, but Frenchie doesn't love her enough to follow her out there for 'her big chance.' Poor girl. I never expected this. I don't know how Frenchie is going to react - but if it's as bad as I think it will be, poor Gigi will be lucky if I don't kill her. Damn it!"

Yeah. There seemed to be a lot of that going around lately. And I thought Frenchie and Gigi were a couple of the really lucky ones. I was pretty sure Frenchie had never looked at another woman while he was married to Gigi - and that was a real shock to me knowing how he had acted when I knew him before - as a hard partying single man who I don't think ever even had a steady girlfriend. He scored often and easily just going out for a drink. Why buy the cow when so much milk was free? And I really thought Gigi was equally devoted to Frenchie.

But any idea I once harbored I knew much about women at all pretty much ended 2 years ago. Maybe Gigi was mental as well. But I knew from bitter experience even that wouldn't help the sense of loss and pain if Frenchie's wife just walked out on him.

I didn't want to leave him alone but I also knew there wasn't anything I could do right now and just maybe Gigi might have a change of heart - and I needed to see my own woman and kids - so I just said to Jenny, "Well, I guess he'll live through the night - I need to get on home myself. I can take Carla home if you want to stick around?"

"No - you're right. I need to get home also and I'll get Carla. You know, Frenchie loves doing what he does and he loves being point and going in first - and he really respects that you trust him and let him do that. I trust you also, Johnnie. Just so you know..."

"Thanks, Jenny. I...well, I love Frenchie like a real brother and I love you too. How could I not, you're just so nice and loveable? Temper and all. But it's just Susan is the mother of my kids and I guess I'm kind of stuck with her for better and worse, through sickness and health. And she is trying so hard and I guess I respect her for that and I owe her..."

She put her fingers on my lips and just said "Shhh...you owe me no explanations. I liked Susan the first time I met her and I understand. And I agree she is trying real hard for you, but she is also trying real hard for her kids and that comes pretty easily for her. She's a good natural Mom. I'm not going to break your family up, John. Not happening. And it's OK. Let's just worry about Frenchie a little right now. See you at home!" She said brightly, but her eyes were brimming with unshed tears.

It wasn't too late when we all got home and we spent a lot of time with all the kids and tried to answer all their questions. They knew Frenchie had been shot but we assured them he was going to be OK. Maybe all that stuff they saw on TV where pretend cops got shot all the time - and then showed up in next week's episode all fine and dandy helped them get past it a tad. On the other hand, they HAD seen me shot and with bone damage that did take a long time to heal, just a year ago, and knew some reality regarding possible gunshot consequences.

It was almost 11 before all the kids finally turned in. Abby had already fallen asleep while sitting in my lap and I carried her to bed.

Susan and I held each other in bed and she cried a bit silently. I just whispered, "It's OK honey, Frenchie is going to be all right."

"You know I can't help this crying a little. Just hold me and it will pass. It brings back to me when you were shot and how I felt so helpless and guilty at that time. I know this is your chosen career and it's a good thing you do, but it is dangerous and I get pretty scared sometimes..."

"It's OK. You cry if you need too. I wish you didn't and I don't like it but I understand a little better now. Shoot, the wonder is you didn't crack up sooner worrying about me before. And I'm not joking. I, uh...I didn't want to worry you even more but I've been nervous about you and the kids ever since those bastard deputies came for you the other day. So that's just a tiny taste of what you had to worry about all the time we've been married. I'm sorry I just took you for granted all these years."

"Oh, honey - I wanted you to take me for granted and just keep loving me as you did. I just tried to do the best I could and never regretted for one minute being married to you until I just lost my mind. I'll never forgive myself for that and I'd give anything to just get back to what we had - what I had once."

"I think, maybe, we're almost back, sweetheart. I never stopped loving you. Not really. And I tried to. I really did. Let's both try not to worry so much. Just one day at a time. OK?"

And I kissed her beautiful lips and she stopped crying and we were soon asleep in each other's arms again.

We slept late the next morning, Sunday. Jenny had taken care of our earliest riser, Abby, and convinced her to let us sleep till 9AM by making her favorite waffles for breakfast.

All my guys had today off and I fervently hoped everyone would get some rest and relaxation. I just needed to go to the hospital to see Karen and Frankie. Karen was actually scheduled to be released today. She was healing nicely and was walking a little every day now while in the hospital. Her collarbone had been surgically pinned together but couldn't be cast - just that arm slung and kept as immobile as possible so the bone knitting could happen. Eventually that shoulder joint would undoubtedly freeze a little and somewhat painful rehab would be necessary. But Karen was tough and motivated. She had already heard that at least half those responsible were now accounted for.

I saw Karen first and watched her leave the hospital with her fiance and parents. She would be staying with them for right now. Having family around - normal loving family - was a nice thing in so many ways.

Then I checked in on Frenchie. He was awake but looked a little down as I walked in. Then he spotted me and the old Frenchie grin appeared.

"How you doing?" I asked.

"Not too bad, Johnnie. There are actually some real pretty nurses here on the night shift."

"Frenchie...what would Gigi say?" It just slipped out without thinking. Honest.

"Gigi's gone. Gone to L.A. to follow a dream. She has those stars in her eyes when she talks about that, that she used to have when she just looked at me."

"Oh, man. Now? With you laid up? I can't believe it." Shaking my head.

"Ah, well. She was never really real to me, you know? It was all like a dream, a very long, extended, and very pleasant dream. She was just too beautiful, inside and out, and too talented with that voice to be real. I never should have asked her to marry me. But I was sure she never would even if I did ask. And yet she did and I knew my goose was cooked. Hell, I knew it wouldn't be forever. She was a Princess and I'm a lot of things, but being any kind of "Prince" is NOT one of those things.

"Yeah. I hurt a little now but I'll get over it. And I think one or a couple of the nurses here just might volunteer to help me get over it pretty damn quick."

And Frenchie grinned one of his patented "good times roll" grins. All I could do is grimly smile back the best I could. I did not doubt he was feeling pretty damn bad right now and would for the forseeable future. No one gets over a woman like Gigi quickly or easily. The mere fact Frenchie was so faithful to her told the tale. And we both knew it.

And for a man like Frenchie - and like me - just being injured and in the hospital was depressing enough on it's own. And the downtime not only got real boring real quick - at least as soon as the pain was under control - but it gave him way too much time to think and brood. I had just been there, done that, myself about a year ago!

I muttered something like "You and I need to get drunk..."

And he just laughed and said, "Not for a couple of weeks the Doc warned. Need my gut to heal up. But maybe I could score you some of the pain meds here - that's almost as good!"

What's that saying "when it rains, it pours"? Or maybe something like "bad things occur in threes" would have been more appropriate as it turned out. Frenchie shot was the first. Gigi leaving, the second. And Susan disappearing became the third.

**********

John Fitzpatrick O'Donnell - Sunday morning:

It was all over the Mobile news last night, Saturday. A Mobile SWAT - Tactical Response Unit - action had killed one perp, wounded another, and captured a third in a short vicious shootout that also recovered 6 stolen paintings from the Butler Law Office robbery three weeks before. Two of the SWAT team had been shot as well but both were already listed as satisfactory and recovering.

I called David - head of my own very unofficial security and investigations unit - that night and arranged a meeting this morning. I was seething. Maybe a tad nervous but I refused to admit that or bow down to it. I was so sure.

I was in my Southern 'secret' estate. Just 60 acres outside Bayou La Batre, of heavily wooded remote land and direct access to the swamplands fronting the Gulf in this southernmost part of Alabama. The house was a large 5 bedroom cypress log cabin. Very remote and also very secure with advanced internal and extended redundant alarm systems. The estate included a machinery barn and a guest house which now housed the 6 man security team.

These were 6 of David's most skilled and trusted ex-Government operatives. After all, I had $4.5 million in cash around and was about to do a little business with some armed and dangerous and immoral criminal types. Just like me. Ha!

My crazy drug and sex obsessed wife, Wendy, the former Mrs. Wendy Hamilton Butler, and I had come down here very late last Tuesday evening. I didn't know for sure that I was being observed - but even paranoids sometimes have real enemies - and hell, I KNEW I had some real enemies - since I purposefully made them just for the hell of it. Apparently. I didn't always know why I did stuff like that, except that I could and I liked to. We left all our phones and personal electronics, tablets, and computers back at our main home as we left that compound in the old beat-up 4-door F250 pickup our Mexican head groundskeeper was driving. We were invisible in the rear seat behind the heavily tinted windows. Wendy bitched all the way until we switched to our more normal Hummer limo - a nice ride into the wilds of southern Alabama. We were easily clear of any surveillance, imagined or not.

She sucked me off in the back seat then and I quickly fell asleep for the rest of the 5 hour ride. Wendy played with herself or maybe sucked the driver and the shotgun guard off. I didn't know or care, really.

Everything electronic here at the estate was brand new and bought anonymously by David's people. No way any of it pointed to me or my wife. Internet service was through a satellite provider and further hidden behind a TOR kind of firewall. Not the TOR the FBI and other alphabet agencies all knew about. Or rather - it was a TOR behind a TOR - whatever the hell that meant. David just assured me we were as hidden as it was possible to be and STILL have almost complete I-net access and capability.