Immune (The Rho Agenda #2)(23)

Next, she retrieved a pair of green M-57 firing devices, more commonly known as “clackers” because of the sound they made when squeezed. These babies would produce the electrical signals that would set off the No. 2 blasting caps on the Claymore mines. And each of those lads had seven hundred little ten-and-a-half-grain steel spheres backed by a pound and a half of C4 plastic explosive. Soon enough, like the ancient Scottish broadsword from which they drew their name, the two Claymores downstairs and the daisy chain of four out back would cut her a path out of here.

Having completed these preparations, she retrieved one last toy, the Israeli Uzi 9mm submachine gun, stuffing several ammunition clips into her backpack. The Uzi wasn’t a Jack type of weapon, but she loved it. It was light, compact, and packed a hell of a punch. Somehow, cradled in her arms, it just felt right.

Janet walked to the inside corner of the room and slid down the wall until she was seated with her back pressed up against the corner. Her fingers found the twin pairs of wires that had been secured to the wall along the baseboard with a staple gun. A quick tug popped enough of the staples to give her the slack she needed. Then, a couple of quick twists of the bare leads fastened them to the connectors on each clacker.

Settling back, she could feel the click of the valve in the filter canister as she breathed in and out through the mask. It felt a bit claustrophobic, but she had felt that before. She just had to slow her breathing and follow the plan that Jack had laid out. The hit team would expect her to run if she was warned. If she didn’t run, they would assume she could be taken by surprise. She just had to wait for them to come to her. And that probably wouldn’t happen until they thought they already had Jack under control.

And so she sat there, grasping the clackers and her Uzi, waiting for the reckoning that was coming. If they thought they had Jack, they were in for an unpleasant surprise. Inside the clear faceplate of her gas mask, Janet smiled.





21


"You've lost containment. Shut the operation down now."

Darnell Freeman spun to face Garfield Kromly. "Shut the f*ck up. This is an FBI operation, and I will be making all the operational decisions."

But Kromly persisted. "Look, Freeman, just have your team back off temporarily to regroup. We want Jack, but only on our terms."

"We have him cornered now, and I am damn sure not backing off just because he started running before he got all the way to the preplanned kill zone. In a few more minutes, the taskforce will have moved to surround Fuller Lodge. In the meantime, he is pinned down on the second floor, shooting wildly."

Kromly stepped in close, his eyes ablaze. "Listen to me, for God's sake. Gregory doesn't shoot wildly. Something is drastically wrong in there."

Freeman turned his back on Kromly, facing toward the situational displays and communications equipment that filled one corner of the taskforce command center. He keyed the mike on the command radio.

"Gibson. What's your ETA?"

The speakers crackled. "We should have everyone in position in about two more minutes."

"Good. As soon as you do, have Alpha team sweep around the left flank and cover the back side of the lodge. Let Bravo and Charlie teams cover the front and right."

There was a pause on the other end of the radio.

Freeman keyed the mike again. "Gibson, did you copy that last transmission?"

"Shit. Something new is happening. I have a couple hundred civilians running out the front door."

"God damn it. He'll be mixed in with them. Get them directed to a holding area."

"No way. We're still taking fire from the second floor window. All the civies are scattering like wild rabbits. I think a couple of them are down."

Freeman cursed then keyed the mike again. "If he's firing, then he's on the second floor. Put some suppressive fire into that room."

"What if he has hostages up there?"

"God damn it, Gibson! He's shooting into a crowd of people. Put some suppressive fire up there and then take him down as soon as you have all the teams in position."

"Roger."

Freeman slammed down the microphone to stare at the situational displays. The green dots indicated the GPS position of every member of the taskforce. The last of Charlie team had just made their way into position for the assault, having had the farthest to travel from where they had been prepositioned at the planned takedown location.

The other radios in the room were filled with chatter, monitoring the inter-team tactical communications from Fuller Lodge. Now they had new problems. A host of squad cars from the Los Alamos Police Department had arrived on the scene and his teams were having to expend resources to keep them out of the way. Although advance coordination had been made with the local authorities, it had not included this unexpected detour into a wedding ceremony at Fuller Lodge.

A quick glance at his watch told Freeman more than he wanted to know about how things were going. They were almost eight minutes into the operation and still hadn't really gotten things started. Jesus, what a cluster f*ck. The thought of what Kromly had said crossed his mind, but he angrily dismissed it a second time. Too late for that now.

The CIA man now stood off to one side, slowly shaking his head. Well, f*ck him, thought Freeman. They still had plenty of firepower to get the job done, and the last thing he needed now was more advice.