Chapter 69 -- EQSDWYANVQZGFINQVDNSM
Walking slowly and clumsily in leg irons and manacles, Scott James moved between
the two guards down the aisle of the courtroom. The room was nearly empty -
the only action today was a hearing of his request that he be moved to another
facility. The cell where he had been in solitary confinement for weeks wasn't
that bad, as solitary confinement goes, and the new one was probably not any
better. But to accommodate his requests for a couple of innocent creature
comforts, given in exchange for his cooperation, he had to be moved. And
moving would involve a ride in a prisoner transport van.
Days earlier he had, accompanied by his new lawyer, offered to cooperate. The
lawyer was of course sent by the League, to facilitate his escape. Knowing
that their conversations were monitored, even the supposedly private ones
permitted between lawyers and clients, he had begun to build a trap.
Pretending to be attempting to persuade him to cooperate, the lawyer dropped
hints that were eagerly consumed by the listeners.
Believing that they finally had some useful information, the government
lawyers offered to deal. Once he began talking, he embellished the hints he
had dropped with details. He was a member of a nationalist militia, he
admitted. The 'New Republican Army', it was called. He wasn't sure how many
members there were because the organization was compartmentalized for security,
and most of the members knew only a few others. No, he didn't know where the
central headquarters was, or even if it had a fixed location. Yes, his
section camp, as they called it, was always the same. How many members?
About forty to fifty, not sure exactly.
And so it went, seven or eight hours over two days. He couldn't miss the elation
in their eyes as the story was filled out, each time they went over the same
subjects looking for inconsistencies. And finding none because everything he
told them about existed. The camp, its location, the layout. He knew they
would have it under surveillance from the time he told them its location, and
the men at the camp would know as well.
It was a dangerous game he was playing. Outside the courthouse the sky was
grey and a light breeze blew leaves and street debris across the sidewalk as
they walked to the van. He sat in the assigned seat, a guard on either side
and two more in the seat behind. Another sat beside the driver.
The Thursday afternoon traffic was as light as it ever got here, and the
ambush vehicles had plenty of room to maneuver. Before the driver or guards
had any hint of trouble, the windshield was penetrated by a large object which
quickly flooded the interior of the van with gas, and within seconds the
driver sagged in his seat and leaned over, suspended by the seat restraints.
The other occupants went almost as quickly, as two small cargo trucks came
alongside, sandwiching the van between them and forcing it to a stop in the
median.
One of the trucks moved away to allow a pair of SUVs to stop beside the van.
Men emerged and quickly opened the van's side door. Two of them were wearing
gas masks and entered to unfasten the prisoner, and seconds later were
carrying him to one of their vehicles. Both quickly disappeared into the traffic.
Everett Fallis was in his hotel room when the call came in. It was his boss,
who was personally overseeing the operation.
"How soon can you move?" the boss asked.
"Any time," he replied. "We were waiting for a go-ahead."
"You've got it," the boss said. "Our informant escaped from custody a few
minutes ago. We don't want to risk him contacting them."
"It will take us twenty, thirty minutes to assemble," Fallis said.
"Go ahead. He won't be able to contact them that soon, even if he was
inclined to. Try to take some prisoners."
"Got it."
The line of Humvees was rolled across a countryside dotted with farmhouses
and barns toward a wooded area about forty acres in size, enclosed by a fence
of posts and planks. The layout of the interior was known from aerial
photography taken by drones flown over in previous days. Thermal imaging
suggested the number of persons was accurate. The major structures were
several long buildings the informant had told them were apartments for about
the approximately half of the force that lived on site. Smaller buildings
were scattered around, along with some vehicles, a handful of small travel
trailers, and a few piles of unidentified objects. Altogether it looked like
similar sites the government had raided
The six Humvees followed by three trucks full of armed agents drove through
the gates, splintering and scattering the lumber they were made from, continuing
towards the large building in the center. But they didn't get that far.
Each vehicle had taken multiple hits from RPGs by the time the last truck cleared
the gates, and the barrage continued as the men began scrambling from the
vehicles and seeking cover. But the trees lining the road were hiding the men
with the launchers and dozens of men armed with automatic weapons. It was a slaughter. The
defenders called for cease fire, having disappeared into the trees with most
of the intruders down or hiding behind their vehicles.
"Cease fire! Cease fire!". The command was coming from speakers on poles
around the center of the compound. The firing stopped.
"Attention! Commander, come forward and identify yourself. You will not be
harmed. Come out and stand in front of the lead vehicle."
There was silence and no movement for several minutes.
"If your commander is incapacitated, send out your ranking member. Hurry it up."
After a couple of minutes a two men emerged from somewhere in the line
of wrecked vehicles and walked slowly to the front of the line.
"One of you, walk forward towards that building in the center. You are
covered by over a hundred guns. Do as I say and you will not be harmed."
One of the two began walking, hands held out to the side. As he came closer
two men left the area around the entrance and walked forward to meet him.
"Identify yourself," one of them said.
"I'm agent Kenneth Schumer, ATF," the man said, holding up his ID. "Our
commander is wounded or... dead. I don't know."
"All right, Agent Schumer. There's no need for you to know who I am. All you
need to know is that you have been had. Do you understand that?"
The man looked shocked, as he well should. While he may have heard about
recent cases of federal agents being resisted with such force, what he had
experienced was probably beyond his ability to imagine.
"Yes," he said. "I do. May I call for assistance for my personnel?"
"You certainly may. In fact, you can do whatever you like. This place was a
trap set to teach you people something. My men are evacuating, even as we
speak. We will join them shortly - don't be so foolish as to try to follow."
He and the other turned and walked toward the building, not looking back.
Schumer did not know if there were still men in the surrounding woods, so he
waited for a few minutes before going back.
Scott James finished shaving and picked up the toothbrush. He liked to be
clean and weeks in jail, particularly as the most unpopular inmate where the
management was concerned, and not been pleasant. He hadn't shaved as he
anticipated being sprung at some point, and for changing his appearance
removing a beard was easier than acquiring one. After he brushed his teeth he
enjoyed the first civilized shower he had had in weeks, and then got dressed
in the clothes his rescuers had brought.
It would be a while before he could leave the safe house. His extraction had
gone about as smoothly as could be expected. He still felt a little unsteady,
a result of the gas, but it should be worn off before long.
He turned on the television in his room and watched one of the news channels.
Before long a 'Breaking News' segment came on, and he watched with interest to
see what it was. His lawyer had not been able to tell him anything about the
League's operations as any such communication would have been overheard by his
captors. He recognized the subject of this one. It was the place he had used
to set a trap for the enemy.
The pictures were of smoking military vehicles, and not much of that. It
looked like the news crews had gotten a brief segment and were using it
repeatedly. Probably the government had restricted access. It wasn't
important - he would be safely among his own people before long.
One of his rescuers entered the room.
"How you feelin', man?" he asked. "I'm Andy."
"Pretty good, now," Scott replied. "Still a little woozy, from the gas I guess.
But it seems to be wearing off."
"Sounds good. As soon as we get you out of here we'll have a doctor look you
over. You didn't find any signs they put a tracking device on you somewhere,
did you?"
"No. They probably weren't expecting me to get loose. They hadn't even
gotten to the point of drugging me yet, but they probably would have before
long. So I used the setup to trap them and hopefully get them to move me so
you could spring me more easily."
"It went well," Andy said. "You're outside Alexandria. It's pretty safe to
move out here, but we aren't taking any chances. We have a private runway here,
fairly active these days with us moving people in and out of the area. Anyway,
early in the morning we'll put you in a car, with clean papers, and drive you
there. It's about ten minutes, so there's not much exposure on the ground.
Even so, we'll have a couple of cars for insurance. You about ready to eat
something?"