“Big Eye! This is Surf Boy. Something’s going on over there. There’s a team of…”
“Say again, over.”
Another double squelch. The wait was not long.
“Sorry. Heard a noise nearby. I see movement on both west and east sides of target. Ground level. Very tight to the building. Tangos slippin’ in east from the lake. No count yet, over.”
“Does POTUS snipers see ’em? Over.”
“Negative. Tangos are coming in real tight to the building. Making use of all sight angle restrictions. There are… five two-man teams. They just slipped past at ground level near the building spreading in different directions. They’re going after the Hall of Fame, over.”
“Explain. Over.”
“One team has an RPG. Over.”
“No shit? Over.”
“Yeah. Snuff says more of them are comin’ from further out. Comin’ in hot from a lit up Hilton that’s maybe a half-mile out. Over.”
“Massing? Over.”
“Not yet, but they’re real careful, hiding and keeping out of obvious sight angles. Over.”
“Roger that. What else, over?”
“Good timing in their infiltration techniques. They’re in tune with the guards inside the glass and on the roof. Mostly outta sight and outta angle. The rooftop snipers are missing them from what we can tell. Seems like there’s a great deal of men sneaking in. Them bastards are staging… over.”
“Full assault? Conjecture? Over.”
“Yeah. They’re prepping for all out assault. Imminent threat. Looks like they’re setting up to take the whole damn shebang with some serious firepower. Hold.”
“Understood, on hold.”
Marty returned to the radio.
“Snuff says now there’s already forty armed men on each side of the damn building. Over.”
“Say again. Over.”
“Yeah, forty armed men on each side of the building. Additional RPGs confirmed. Eight men have ’em. The others have assault weapons. Damn, this is well coordinated! I think it’s going down well within the hour and if POTUS’s in there she’s fucked. Over.”
“Alright. We’re coming up to the warehouse. Over.”
“Negative. Repeat, negative. Men are now crossing the street in front of me preparing for a frontal. I think it’s worse than what we’re seeing. You’ll never slip past the roof snipers or the enemy force. I recommend you hold for now. Over.”
“Holding full team position. Surf Boy, report in on Charlie, tactical changes immediately. Over.”
“Copy that. Over and out”
Connor switched channels.
“Big Eye to BB.”
“BB, go ahead.”
“Start your return to target. Full stealth. Best speed. Give me an update when you’re within five minutes of our position. Over.”
“Copy Big Eye. Coming in best speed and full stealth. Over and out.”
CHAPTER 6.5-A Heads Up
“What’s happening?” asked McLeod.
Connor was deep in thought.
“Not sure, John. Maybe the Cleveland bunch and Starkes aren’t as cozy as we thought. Or something like that.”
“What’s the plan?”
“From what I can tell, the president is, in fact, the likely resident of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame at the moment. And, I’m guessing the president’s been waiting there for awhile, right?”
“Yeah, at least a week or two, by my best guess.”
“Mine too. And she’s set September eighth as a key date for my arrival, correct?”
“Yeah?”
“And this evening is September seventh.”
“Yep.”
“So, I’m thinking that Cleveland bunch is probably under a completely different command structure from President Starkes.”
“Okay.”
“They’re looking to breach, they probably overheard something might be going down tomorrow and wanted to… make a grab.”
“So they’re going to attack now?”
“Seems like it. A nighttime incursion. It’s the only solution that makes any sense at this time from both a tactical and strategic standpoint. Okay, and well, because, maybe they want to seize what they can before September eighth hightails it outta here.”
“I see.”
“Kinda makes sense… and that Superhawk would certainly be an extremely attractive acquisition.”
“So, what’s your plan?”
“Well, maybe we stir things up and, you know, give Starkes a heads up in there.”
“I’m not so sure.”
“What’s your advice, then?”
“Can’t we gather more intel? Discuss it with the team to figure this out?”
“No time on the team meet. But, good point on gathering more intel. Maybe we’ll wait another half-hour or so, tell Snuff and Surf Boy to see if they can secure a compliant captive to explain what’s going on.”
“Can they do that?” asked McLeod.
“I dunno. Let’s ask.”
CHAPTER 6.6-Spider’s Web
“Andy!” whispered Terry.
She was shocked at his abrasiveness toward this new man named Spider.
“Hold on, Andy!” said Mark Harmon, “What the hell’s going on? Huh? Why you insulting Spider?”
“Because I can—”
“You don’t even know ’im.”
“I know ’em well enough.”
Taking the insult with an obvious jolt, Spider unsaddled and stood on the cracked asphalt, jaws clenching. He was a big man, six foot-four at least and 260 pounds. He took a few steps past the high weeds pushing their way up out of the blacktop cracks next to his horse; the men around him watched, interested. A few familiar faces glanced at Andy, confused, but excited at the turn of events.
“You have something you wanna say, Cyclops?” asked Andy, pushing the abuse. His voice held an unrestrained anger. Ten feet away, he waited for a response.
Bristling at this newest insult, Spider’s hand slid toward his hip holster.
“They’re three good men watchin’ you, Bozo.”
“So?”
“They’ll pop out your other fuckin’ eye before you move another inch toward that Glock,” said Andy. Calmly, he added, “Just so we’re clear.”
“What’re you doing, Andy?” whispered Terry, frantic to understand.
“Shh… T. Just back me up and hang on a sec, please.”
“Spider, get back on that horse!” said Mark.
Mark was ignored.
“What’s your problem, prick?” yelled Spider. His eyes never left Andy, taking a few more steps forward.
“You’re my problem, Cy. Making sure you’re aware of it and hope to never see your ugly face again.”
“Why’s that, you hillbilly prick?”
Tracking Spider’s movement, Andy ignored the question, directing his next comment to Mark Harmon.
“Mark, you know this guy’s got a rep in Iraq, right?”
“What? Iraq?”
“Yeah, man that goes by Spider. One-eyed with a scar across his face. Chin to ear.”
“What about it? He lost his eye to an IED. No big deal.”
“That’s not what I heard.”
Spider interrupted.
“Is that right? What’d you hear you little arrogant bastard?”
“Huh. I’m an arrogant bastard? I heard that piss-ass eye of yours was removed by some twelve-year-old Iraqi snatch you lost sight of during a little playtime episode. Uh… please pardon the pun.” Unable to help himself, Andy laughed.
“Some rumor. You make this shit up as you go? Or, are you always just an asshole?” Spider was clearly jostled by the comment.
“Nah,” said Andy, “Just got a good memory for wayward predators. You know, the ones that try to impress little girls, in case I ever meet up with ’im.”