The sound of the diesel engine starting cut through the still night air. Greenfield turned on Tombstone, enraged. “Now you’ve pushed them into trying to make a break for it before we’ve got enough assets in place. I told you before and you didn’t listen — this isn’t a military operation. This is law enforcement. The sooner you get that through your head, the fewer people will have to die because of your arrogance.”
Tombstone turned to him, his face hard and cold. “If you were in the Navy, I would—”
“I’m not. And you can’t. You’re right on the edge of having a fuck-up happen right here, Magruder. Get your head out of your ass and pull your people back. It’s not going to take much for one of them to start shooting to cover their escape. Once one fires, you can kiss your ass good-bye, because the rest will follow suit. And then it’s Bull Run all over again. Do you really want that?”
Tombstone reined in his anger, forcing himself to consider the possibility that Greenfield was right. He had sent men and women to their deaths many times when he was in the Navy, sent them out on missions knowing that the probability of their returning was minimal. Was this any different?
Yes. It was. He was on unfamiliar terrain, not only physically but legally. Only a fool failed to listen to his advisors.
Without a word, Tombstone picked up the bullhorn. “Hold your fire. Weapons down, safeties on. I want a representative from each post back here for a briefing.” Turning to face the compound, he said, “Attention inside the house. Be advised that if you attempt to leave in other than the manner I have outlined, we will open fire. If there are any casualties
“Accessories to murder — now that’s a laugh. Maybe even a threat,” Abraham said.
“That was Tombstone Magruder,” a voice said from below the floor. It was Drake, speaking up to offer her opinion. “I’d take him seriously if I were you.”
“You know the man?” Abraham asked.
“I do.”
“Get up here.” Drake scrambled up the ladder. He grabbed her and marched her over to the door. “Tell him you’re in here.”
She glared at him, and for a moment he admired her sheer balls. “I won’t. That wasn’t part of the deal.”
He pinched her hard on the butt. She yelped.
He picked up the bullhorn and turned toward the front door. “You hear that, Magruder? That’s a friend of yours — Pamela Drake. I believe you two are acquainted. Be advised that if you opened fire on us, she’ll take the first round and it won’t necessarily be from your people.”
“She knows better than to be in there,” a cold voice answered immediately. “It’s not going to stop me, Carter.”
“Oh, I’m willing to bet it will,” Carter said to the other men. “Let’s up the ante. Gag her and tie her up.”
“No! I won’t—” Drake’s voice was cut off abruptly as a rag was stuffed in her mouth and secured by duct tape. She was tossed roughly into chair, her hands taped behind her and her feet bound to the legs of the chair. She struggled, but it made no difference at all.
“
Greenfield groaned. “If they have a hostage, that puts a different slant on things.”
“We can’t let it change anything,” Tombstone said. Despite his resolute tone of voice, there was an anguished look at his eyes. “If we do, then they win every time.”
“Let me call in our hostage negotiation team.”
“Like you said earlier — no time. Something’s going on in there.”
“You
“And that’s the point, isn’t it? They think it’s their America — you think it’s yours. The question is who wins.” Tombstone looked around at the rest of the group and said, “I need options, people.”
An Army sergeant stepped forward. “Sir, if we can get a microphone in close enough, we might be able to hear what’s going on. That might help.”
“Good idea. How can you get a microphone up close?”
The Army sergeant turned to study the equipment stacked around them. “Cable, a microphone — get a couple of people to cut me down some small trees, sir, and lash them together. I can get close enough to use them like a boom. It may not work, but it’s worth a shot.”
“Do it.”
Relief surged thought the crowd as pent-up energy was released. To be doing something,
“On my way,” the Army sergeant said. He crept along a gully until he was at the closest approach to the house. Slowly, carefully, he extended the boom, shoving the microphone closer and closer. Finally, he lifted it slightly so it sat against the window.
Forty feet away, men and women crowded around the speaker, hardly daring to breath as they waited for any sound. There was nothing. They listened for twenty minutes, with nothing but silence. Finally, frustrated, Tombstone called the sergeant back.
“Have you done this sort of thing before?” he asked.
The sergeant nodded. “Yes, sir. But with better equipment. Still, this gear is good enough to pick up anything going on inside. If you’re not hearing anything, I’d say there’s nobody in there. Nobody can hold still that long without coughing, moving, bumping into something. Especially not men under pressure like this.”
“They’re gone?” Greenfield asked.
“Sounds that way to me, sir.”
Suddenly, something banged against the front door. Slides locked back and rounds were chambered as everyone turned to stare. There was another hard knock from the inside, and a muffled scream as though someone were—
“It’s Pamela,” Tombstone said suddenly. “Pamela, gagged. God, how many times have I wanted to do that?”
“A slow approach, with shields,” Greenfield advised. He motioned to the riot-control gear. “It won’t stop everything, but it may deflect enough rounds to keep you alive.”
“Did you hear the man?” Tombstone snapped. “They’re not there anymore.”
Tombstone could hear Greenfield behind him issuing a flurry of orders, directing the teams to fan out to search for the escaping militants. There wasn’t a lot they could do at this point without air support, but they had to try.
Air support — and why had that fallen through? A sudden, ugly suspicion surfaced in Tombstone’s mind. Was it possible? He turned to Greenfield. “Which Air National Guard unit did you contact for support?”
“The local one. I was trying to arrange it informally, but when that fell through, I tried the Air Force Reserve. They were still bucking it around in channels, trying to figure out the funding.”
“You said a lot of these men have connections to the National Guard. Is it possible that somebody derailed the cooperation on that end?”
Greenfield scowled. “Yeah, it’s real possible. That exact thought occurred to me. I didn’t push it, because the last thing I need in the air is a pilot and crew not really looking for the bad guys. If anything, they could be spotters and reveal our location.”
“You don’t know who you can trust, do you? But I do.” Tombstone picked up his cell phone and punched in a number. He glanced over at the Army communications specialist. “Have you got HF abilities on that?”
“Yes, sir. All I need is a frequency.”
Tombstone reeled off a string of numbers from memory, then said, “Set it up. Let me know when it’s done.” The tech punched in a couple of numbers, then gave Tombstone a thumbs-up. Tombstone spoke into the cell phone.
