Foot traffic on the four stairways became hectic as people carried rifles and spare magazines and boxes of ammunition for their specific weapon to the second floor. Andrea, Marilyn Deutsch, and two of the Halcom girls packed large trays of roast beef, cheeses, home made bread and condiments up the stairs.
Ed wore stern features as he plowed a path to the elevator carrying two Barrett M82A1 50 caliber rifles with night scopes. Behind him four young men and women he'd commandeered carried two M24 sniper rifles in their heavy black plastic cases and two of the older model SMAW rocket propelled grenade launchers. As I neared a stairway, I looked toward the elevator and saw Ed and two of his mules run with enthusiasm back in the direction of the underground heavy weapons armory. An ammo run I guessed. The elevator cage rose, and the two ladies escorted the weapons to the second floor.
Upstairs I encountered organized confusion. Everyone looked grim as they went to their assigned stations. No one knew what to expect. I started directing people to battle stations or to stand by over by the food storage area and wait to be assigned.
Verlie called me on the radio. "Two tank-looking vehicles are coming up the driveway. The first one is tan and the other is painted in camouflage patterns."
"Tom," Zeb called, "the first one is a Humvee and the second is, I think, an armored personnel carrier like big city SWAT teams use."
"Thanks, Zeb. You and Verlie get out of the watch towers and work with the rest of us. You make tempting target hanging out there. If they have any heavy weapons, I bet they'll be inclined to take those guard towers out first just to show us they can."
The two vehicles approached slowly. The Humvee stopped a hundred feet from the gate; it looked familiar. I was sure I'd seen that particular vehicle before. If it belonged to who I thought it did that bothered me. The second vehicle stayed back another hundred feet. I watched through a gunport as a slender, brown haired, man was pushed from the Humvee, fell to the ground, and rolled. The APC behind it looked like an older model BearCat with medium grade armor. I grabbed a pair of binoculars and checked out the machine guns on each vehicle. The Humvee mounted a M249 5.56mm light machine gun on top and would be fired manually. The BearCat sported a heavier M240 7.62 mm. automated machine gun controlled from inside. We could match either one, and I knew Ed well enough to know he'd think of a way to take the BearCat completely out. Another man exited the passenger side of the Humvee. He wore full military garb, from his boots with bloused pants up to his cap. Captain's bars adorned his shirt collars. A big black man, early forties, tall and stocky but not fat. I panned to the other man who rose from the ground. I couldn't believe it. Nate Robard had lost about one-hundred-fifty pounds and was dressed in faded, torn camo pants and shirt. He stood and received a harsh shove toward the gate where a hand-held radio rested in a weatherproof box. His right hand sported a bloody bandage, and he carefully favored the hand.
I heard Nate's wavering voice on my radio earpiece. "Tom Jacobs. . . This is Nate Robard. I'm a prisoner of these men. Captain Williams wants to talk to you."
Ed looked grim as he passed me with one of the RPG units. He motioned up with his left thumb. He climbed up a fixed ladder to the metal roof and would open one of the sliding hatches we'd installed as a safety feature. Chain ladders were installed at each of the six openings, so they could be tossed over the side to reach the ground. Only Ed had no intention of escaping. One of Ed's mules followed right behind him carrying a hank of rope and two armor piercing rockets. As I stared, another mule, a female Halcom, carried two more rockets by me.
An arrogant voice thundered in my earpiece. "Jacobs. This is Captain Ephraim Williams. My soldiers are here to take over your facility. If you don't comply, I'll kill Mr. Robard and his entire family when we overrun your position."
"What makes you think we can't fight back, Captain?"
"Mr. Robard was kind enough, with some harsh interrogation methods, to describe your headquarters in sufficient detail that I know the machine guns on my two APCs will blast through the steel siding of that building like it's sliced cheese. Don't attempt to play games with me, Mr. Jacobs, because I'm not a man to be trifled with. You have approximately twenty-four fighting people, half of whom are women and teenagers. The rest are children. Surely you don't want all of them injured or killed, do you? If your group surrenders and leaves now there will be no bloodshed or loss of life. I'm waiting for your answer, and I'm not a patient man."
"We're a democracy, sir. I'll need time to gather our people and
