Operation Fallen Angel Page 33

  “Our first simulation isn’t till twenty-three-hundred hours. They’ve given us four rooms down that hallway,” Cooper said to the team. “Pick a room and get some sleep. We’ll reconvene at nineteen-hundred in this room.”

  The sleeping accommodations were two-man dormitory-style rooms. Knowing Garcia didn’t snore, Doc followed him to a room to drop their gear. Besides, Sloan and Sherman always roomed together, and he knew for a fact that both Trio and Johnson snored. He wanted to get some decent sleep while they were here.

  “Cooper,” General Seyller called as the team headed towards the hall.

  Cooper returned to the General.

  “You have a female. I wasn’t aware of that. Do you require a fifth room for her?”

  Cooper laughed. “Miller’s my wife. She doesn’t need a separate room.”

  “No shit?” The General remarked. “Shepherd must be softening in his old age.”

  Cooper’s lips tipped into a smirk. “He wasn’t thrilled about it, but we can work together and keep it separate. Plus, she’s a hell of an Operator.”

  The General nodded, still surprised. “Carry on.”

  As Doc laid on his rack, his thoughts wouldn’t quiet. His memories of his birthday, the day before, and the time spent in bed with Elizabeth kept him up. Elizabeth was becoming more comfortable with sexual exploration every day. The coupon he redeemed the previous morning showed that she fully trusted him. Well, the fact that she even wrote the coupons for him, proved that. His request of her for that coupon? Simply that he laid still on his back and that she would make love to him, anyway she wanted, until he came.

  In all previous erotic play, she had never straddled him. She had never taken the lead. He knew she felt awkward, at first, but she proved she had been paying attention to what he liked, to what got him off. Lying there, he knew his lips were fixed in a grin as he recalled what it looked like, what it felt like, what it sounded like.

  “You want a hammer to pound that wood down?” Garcia’s sarcastic voice broke into his thoughts.

  Doc opened his eyes and sure enough, the blanket over his cock was tented. He flipped Garcia the bird. “Fuck you. Have your own erotic dream.”

  Garcia laughed. “I was trying, but you were moaning over there. Jesus Christ, Doc, either you’re not getting any or you finally turned your beast loose!”

  Doc laughed. “Let’s just say my birthday yesterday was a day to remember.”

  “Well, then, fuck this. I’m putting my earbuds in so I can get some sleep. Have at it.” He did just that, rolled so his back was to Doc and then let his mind recall his own incredible encounter Saturday night with his wife. ‘We just got married sex’ was the hottest sex he’d ever had.

  At nineteen hundred, the eight of them gathered around the table in the rec room. Doc and Madison were dressed in street clothes. Madison’s hair was left loose. The others were in black fatigues. This first scenario would test one four-man team’s response to a hostage rescue. The team would be scrambled and told that A VIP and his secretary were being held. A training building on the base would be used. Since the exercises were simulations, small firecrackers would be used rather than flash-bangs. It was understood by all that the disruption would be nowhere near the disorienting effect as in live fire.

  The team went to the single-story structure to set up a half-hour before Red Team was scrambled. It was a mockup of a house, with a front and back door, an open kitchen and living room area, a bathroom and two bedrooms, all full of furniture. Garcia rigged a few motion detectors at various entry points. The Undertaker hooked up a fake detonation device to the main entry point. They picked their room to defend, one of the bedrooms. They sat Doc and Madison in chairs in the center of the room. They had Sherman stand in the back corner. And then they waited.

  The first indication Red Team was onsite was the registering of movement from the detector at a back window. Then they heard movement on the roof. There was a skylight over the living room area. Standard procedure would have them insert flex neck cameras into at least two locations in the structure. Doc assumed that would be one point, to get a birds-eye view of the main room and the doorways into the three other rooms. It would be where he would put one.

  Doc looked at Madison through his safety goggles, which they all wore. They all wore helmets too, including the two hostages. “Good luck. If you have to hit me, I’d prefer it in the helmet than the heart,” Doc whispered.

  Madison grinned. “A headshot is all I’d take. At close range, I’d go for the greater chance for a fatality.”

  “That’s comforting,” Doc joked quietly.

  He felt Cooper’s hand on his shoulder. “Here we go. I do believe they have breached the house.”

  Garcia stood behind Madison. The Undertaker and Lambchop were on the floor to the left, their weapons aimed over the bed, one aiming at the window, the other the door. Mother was in the corner to the right of the door. His position would be concealed when the door was opened. They waited.

  Red Team avoided the main door, finding the explosive device with the camera they’d inserted through the skylight. Two members entered the house through the rear and cleared the other rooms first. The doors to the bathroom and the other bedroom were left open. A second flex neck camera was inserted through the cold air return vent that spanned both the bedrooms side by side. They saw about half of the target room, enough to plan their assault.

  Red Team performed their initial breach of the room well. The door to the bedroom crashed open from the force of a battering ram at the same moment the bedroom window exploded in with the first of two team members crashing through it followed by the second immediately. The firecracker went off simultaneously mocking the flash-bang they would normally use. They took out Sherman, Cooper, and Garcia, the paintball rounds striking them each in the head and chest.

  The two men who entered through the door fired at Sloan and Lambchop, who returned fire on them all, hitting one of them. Mother came from behind the door and shot a second, before he was also hit. A third member of Red Team was hit at the same time he hit Sloan in the helmet. The fourth member shot Lambchop.

  “All Tangos neutralized,” the man broadcast. “Three team members are down. Send in backup.” He approached Doc and Madison; his weapon trained on them. “Are you both okay?”

  Madison waited as he approached. She produced her gun and plugged him with three bright pink rounds in the center of his chest. “You’re dead. Assume nothing,” she told the stunned trainee.

  At the onsite debrief, it was pointed out to Red Team that Sherman, who stood in the corner, had no weapon. They assumed Miller was the secretary, when in fact, Sherman was. They failed the exercise as they killed one of the hostages in addition to getting themselves injured or killed. Many of the rounds the Shepherd Security Team had hit them with, struck their body armor. The hits wouldn’t have been fatal, but some would have been.

  They reran the same scenario with Green Team. In this run, however, the Shepherd Security Team had the mattress flipped over the window, with the dresser up against it. They were all in the corner, except Mother, who was once again behind where the door would cover him, and Sloan was in the opposite corner. Both Cooper and Lambchop had guns to Doc and Madison’s heads and were concealed behind them when Green Team breached the room, all four rapidly coming in through the door.

  The first man in took a hit from Sloan, but also hit him. The second man through had clear shots that took out Sherman and Garcia. Mother hit him, but he was then hit by man number three coming through the door.

  “Weapons down or I kill this hostage!” Cooper yelled; his body concealed behind Madison.

  “Not happening, release the hostage!” Man number three yelled.

  “Drop it!” Cooper ordered.

  Man number four saw an opening, a tiny part of Lambchop’s head beside Doc. He fired. It whizzed past Doc and struck the side of Lambchop’s helmet. It wouldn’t have been a lethal hit, but enough to incapaci
tate the bad guy.

  “Drop your guns or I kill her!” Cooper yelled again.

  Man number three kept his weapon trained on Madison with Cooper shadowing her well enough that there was no clear shot. Man number four stepped to the side, trying to get a better shot. “Put the gun down and we all live to see tomorrow.”

  Mother, only injured, and left unchecked, took that moment to fire on both members of Green Team.

  “Oh, fuck!” One of them exclaimed.

  Mother stepped closer to show them the paintball splatter. His left shoulder was hit. He’d gone down and they assumed a more incapacitating wound. They debriefed onsite pointing out that Sherman had no gun and that Madison did. They too had killed a hostage assuming Sherman was one of them. They too failed the exercise.

  “Always look for a weapon. Your bad guys will make their hostages dress the same as them. Or your bad guys may be in street clothes too, just as your hostages,” Cooper said.

  “And don’t assume a woman is not your Tango,” Madison added.

  They ran the same scenario that night into Wednesday morning with the two remaining teams with twists on both. While the Shepherd Security Team slept, the trainees were finally brought together and were allowed to speak about their simulations. They were debriefed as a group, going over all four simulations.

  The trainee groups were ran through training that day as well by the base personnel while Shepherd Security planned for the next simulation. The next set would have the trainees transporting a prisoner or high value figure and the Shepherd Security Team would attack to free that prisoner or take that VIP. There was a road that wound through the training area of the base, through the sandy area and the tall grass landscape. It had hills, dips, curves, and intersections.

  On Thursday, each four-man team was attacked at various locations during their transport. Their vehicles were disabled in a variety of methods, pinned in with two or three trucks, run into the hillside, even cut off with a school bus. The Shepherd Security Team hit them hard. At the end of the simulations, only one team failed, Red Team. It was proving to be the weakest of all four teams.

  Friday brought the two simulations with all sixteen trainees functioning as a unit together, beginning at zero-four hundred. They were dropped in the wilderness area of the training base as though they were in enemy territory. Their target was a building four clicks away. The Shepherd Security force was dug in, hidden between the trainees and their target, lying in wait to ambush.

  As the sun rose, Doc saw the trainees moving in. They moved in formation right from the training book. Come on boys, show some originality, he thought. His eyes were pressed to his scope watching them. “Two o’clock from my location, I’ve got four moving in.”

  “Roger that,” Cooper replied through their comms. “I see them, and I have two more a few hundred yards to their west.”

  The Undertaker was in sniper position in a tree. “And two more a few hundred yards to their east.”

  “Does anyone have eyes on the others?” Cooper asked.

  The reply was negative from all. Madison and Lambchop were dug in nearest the target building. The minutes dragged into a half-hour. No one had eyes on the last eight of the trainees. The first eight inched closer but kept themselves concealed well when moving.

  Through her scope, Madison saw something odd looking near where Danny Trio was positioned. The sun was rising behind his location and tall grasses that swayed in the breeze surrounded him. “Mother,” Madison broadcast. “Check your perimeter. There’s something not quite right in how the grass is moving to your east.”

  “Roger that, Xena,” he replied.

  This made all the Shepherd Security personnel do the same. Just as Doc was scrutinizing the tall grassland to his west, while crouching with his back against the bark of a tree, shots rang out. He felt the impact of four paintball rounds in his chest. The threat was only feet within the dense underbrush, and he hadn’t seen him until he fired.

  Besides Doc, Mother, the Birdman, and Razor were all ambushed in similar fashion by four of the missing trainees. The Undertaker took two of them out after the fact. At the moment they fired, four more rushed the target building, firing on Xena and Lambchop. The pair hit two of them but were hit themselves by the others. The attack plan the trainees had used was good. They won the exercise.

  The second exercise occurred later that afternoon. The trainees had returned to their barracks. They could shower and change and were told to report to the range at sixteen-hundred hours. Alpha and Delta attacked them in their barracks.

  It was the definition of chaos for the trainees. Several were caught in the showers, their weapons on their bunks. One trainee slept soundly in his bunk with music blasting through his headphones, so he didn’t wake at the sound of the attack. One trainee on Red Team outshined all the others, rushing the attackers and striking Sherman, Trio, and Garcia, before pulling one of his teammates to a position of cover.

  Cooper and Madison went room by room, together, clearing each room or shooting those within until they too were hit by four of the trainees who happened to be in one room. They ducked for cover upon hearing the attack. They did not respond and seek out their attackers. They waited for them to come. Only then did they venture into the hallway, covering each other as they moved towards where more gunfire came from.

  At the end of the exercise, just twenty minutes after it had started, all but four of the trainees were hit, the four who had waited in the room. On the Shepherd Security side, everyone but Doc and Lambchop had been hit, who retreated from the building, without being seen. This was considered a draw. Neither team won. After the exercise was officially called as over, there was a debrief with all in the room. Then the Shepherd Security personnel mingled with the trainees.

  “Good job,” Doc said shaking the hand of the trainee from Red Team who had shined. “You moved in and got your teammate to safety.”

  “I’m a medic, sir, it’s my job,” he replied.

  Doc smiled. He should have known. These trainees all looked so young. Of course, they do, because they are, Doc thought. “Mine too,” Doc replied. “You need to evaluate though your odds of survival before you move in. You can’t save your teammate if you’re hit, yourself.”

  “Yes sir,” the trainee replied. “Can I ask you something, sir?”

  Doc nodded, bracing himself.

  “You’ve been doing this a long time,” the kid said. “Or at least I assume you have based on your age.”

  Ouch, Doc thought. “Yes, I have.”

  “Does the adrenalin spike ever stop? What I mean is, for the hundredth time hitting a building, does it ever get routine?”

  “Never,” Doc told him. “And beforehand, mentally preparing yourself for the injuries you might face that you have to treat, that never ends either. I won’t tell you how many bullet wounds I’ve treated, some made it, some didn’t. Seeing it and going into treatment mode after you’ve engaged the enemy and wounded or killed them, to shift to lifesaving mode always quickens my heartbeat and spikes my adrenalin. I guess the day it stops doing that is the day I’ll retire.”

  The kid nodded with a smile on his face. Doc guessed he gave him the answer he wanted to hear.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  The team ate dinner at the mess hall. They were treated to a couple of beers at the Officer’s Club by General Seyller. And they were then brought back to the airfield. Their plane took off, streaking across the dark sky towards home.

  Doc woke as the plane descended. The sun rose in the cloudless sky behind them. It was a crisp four degrees outside, February in Chicago. As Doc stepped from the plane, he noticed the moon to the west hanging low in the darkened sky. To the east, the fiery oranges and yellows glowed bright.

  His mind recalled the sunrise over the lake during his last fishing trip, the brilliant colors reflecting off the water, the peace and serenity he found there. So much in his life was different now. He was heading home to his wife, his pre
gnant wife, who waited there for him. And he couldn’t wait to get home to her and redeem another birthday coupon.

  Friday morning rush-hour traffic was light. They made it to HQ, stowed their gear, and met Shepherd in the conference room just over an hour after landing. Doc sipped his coffee as Shepherd went over the overall team evaluation of their performance from the exercises executed during the simulations. Individual evaluations would be given to each team member over the next few days.

  Doc sent a text message to Elizabeth when he reached his car in the parking garage to let her know he was heading home. Then he followed the long line of cars exiting the garage. Alpha Team was due back at the office the next morning at zero-six hundred to prep for their next mission.