Ken indicated the setting sun. “You have to get her attention before the sun goes down.” He took back the binoculars. “Get to it.”
Ken turned to watch her through the binoculars while I tried to capture the last rays of the sun in a two-inch square mirror. I played with the angle for a few seconds, shining the reflection on the wall in front of me until I got it right. Then, trying to hold the same angle, I slowly stepped to the opened window and swept the tiny beam of light toward Sarah.
Almost immediately, Ken stopped me. “She sees it. Hold up the sign!” I tucked the mirror in my pocket, while Billy and another man held up the sign.
Abruptly, Ken laughed. “Okay, put down the sign. She got it.”
We dropped back behind the wall. “What’s so funny?” I asked.
“She’s a smart lady.” She saw the sign and signaled back. Two full hands of fingers, followed by four on the right and five on the left. She didn’t want there to be any doubt she’d gotten the message.
“Good,” I responded. “But now we’re on a schedule.” I looked at my watch by the fading sunlight. “We have just over four hours ’til things get crazy here. So how do we get the Astrolite to that tank?”
“I wish I knew. Only thing I can think of is going in through the sewer system and trying to get over to that gutter near the stadium.”
I peeked over the edge again. “That’s still a good ten or fifteen feet away from the tank. We’ve got to get closer than that!”
He sighed. “I know. I’m open for suggestions.”
“Sensei?” Billy sounded tentative.
“What is it, Billy?”
“Um, I think I might have an idea.”
Ken briefed us on what to expect from the tank, drawing what knowledge he had of the Abrams from his Gulf War experience. His opening comments were somewhat less than inspiring. “About the only way you’re going to do any damage to that monster is to time it so one of the charges goes off underneath it in the rear. That’s where the armor is lightest. You can forget about doing any damage to the front. I heard about tests where they fired repeated rounds from a one-oh-five millimeter, one after the other at the exact same spot. It took seven shots, one right inside the other, to pierce the armor in front. We just don’t have that kind of firepower. Even if it doesn’t pierce the armor, though, it will likely blow the treads and immobilize it. Once you see it’s incapacitated, get back to us, and we’ll all go home.”
Ivory raised his hand. “’S’cuse me?”
“What is it, Ivory?”
“Well, this might sound dumb, but… well, I saw this cop show on TV a long time ago where some loony got hold of a tank and was driving down the street. He was runnin’ over cars and streetlights and shit like that.”
Ken nodded. “I saw that show. The tank he was in was an older M-60. What about it?”
“Well, when the cops got to the tank, they just climbed up on top and got into it with some bolt cutters. How’d they do that?”
“The tanks are designed where, if the crew is incapacitated, medics have a way to get in. The old M-60 had four hatches. The commander’s hatch, the gunner’s, and the driver’s are all on top.” He sketched a rough diagram on the wall with a piece of chalk. “With an escape hatch underneath.”
He drew another diagram beside the first. “With the Abrams, they got rid of the bottom hatch. The three top hatches are here, here, and here. This one,” he indicated the left-hand top hatch, “is the only one that can’t be locked from the inside. Instead, it’s made where you can run a lock through the dogging arm and an eyelet. It’s the same design carried over from the old M-60.”
Ken turned back to Ivory. “On that show you’re talking about, the police simply cut that lock and opened the hatch. Unfortunately, our circumstances are different.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because that tank was manned by only one person. He wasn’t able to man the guns and drive at the same time. With a full crew, no one would have ever gotten close to the tank without being shot to pieces.” He searched our faces, making sure that he’d made his point. “Any other questions?”
“As far as a pep talk goes, Ken, this one needs some work,” I quipped.
That got a few chuckles, but Ken squashed them immediately. “I’m not here to cheer you up. I’m trying to make you see that what you are about to try is gonna make last night seem like a cakewalk, and they kicked our butts last night. I want you scared. Because if you go into this scared, maybe, just maybe, you’ll stay alive long enough to get back to your families.”
There was a controlled fury in his gaze. You could see that he hated sending us out there, and that he hated that it had fallen to him to command this mess. But you could also see that he was determined to do the best he could.
“Leeland, pick your squad.”
Team Mohammed left at 8:00 p.m. Billy, Wayne, and I were one fourth of the group of familiar faces I had chosen. I wanted people I knew with me.
Two carried the ice chest of Astrolite, two more carried a wooden crate that Wayne indicated had tools and other paraphernalia we would need, and yet another pair carried the chest of HMTD. The rest of us scouted ahead.
It was our job to find an appropriate place, plant the Astrolite, and draw the tank into our ambush. The idea was Billy’s, but Ken named the team. Since we couldn’t go to the mountain, we were bringing the mountain to us.
The trick was to find someplace close enough to get the tank to investigate without calling in for reinforcements while they left their post, yet it had to be far enough away that we could plant the charges without being seen. Our team had two sets of night vision goggles to help us scout the area, and even then it took us more than half an hour to find our spot.
As with most things in life, we had to compromise. We settled on the intersection of Dullas and South 23rd, a few blocks east and one south of Eagle Stadium. There was nothing special about the location except for the number of potholes in the street.
“Madre de Dios,” Rene muttered, looking with distaste at the poorly maintained street. “Okay, now what?”
Wayne took off his night vision goggles and hung them on his belt. I took my cue from him and did the same with mine. He jerked his thumb at the street, and answered simply, “Now we dig.” And we did.
The potholes were pretty severe in places, as road repair was not exactly high on the list of priorities for the Rejas City Council. We pulled the asphalt out of some of the deepest holes, working mostly by feel in the darkness. Digging by hand, I laughed to myself as I contemplated the irony of the situation.
“Que es… What is funny?” Rene hissed. You could always tell when she was agitated. It was at those times that her Spanish accent was most prevalent.
I shrugged to show that it wasn’t important. Then realizing she couldn’t see me, I explained, “For years we’ve bitched and moaned about potholes. But tonight, if we didn’t have them, we’d be up a creek.”
She grunted and turned back to digging, obviously wishing she hadn’t asked. Rene Herrera had been like that as long as I’d known her. Gruff was the way her acquaintances described her. I found that particular adjective to be a bit of an understatement.
We soon broke through to the soil beneath, digging several of the potholes out enough to hold a beaker of Astrolite. After completion of the sixth hole, Wayne called the rest of us into an open door. Inside the darkened building, we held a quick meeting by the light of a couple of subdued flashlights.
“I really think that these six should be plenty to cover the area,” Wayne started. “Hell, from what I read in your books, Leeland, six one-quart charges will probably be enough to completely erase the intersection altogether.”
“You think we should save the rest, in other words.”
“Yeah.”
“All right. Let’s plant the charges and move to a safe detonation distance.” I paused to think. “Uh, just how far do we need to go to be safe?”