Roger

The perimeter alarm buzzed, and Roger swiveled his chair to see the screen. A red dot indicated an intrusion on the southeast corner. He tapped keys, zooming in. Three vehicles. Figure on at least a half dozen men.

Damn that sonofabitch Jackson. I told them trying to use him as a double agent was dangerous. He knew about this place, even if he didn't know I was coming here. Told them everything he knew, they're doing a sweep of all possible sites.

They'd dropped him two miles away and he hoofed it cross country, avoiding any possible contact with anyone. He was damn near unarmed as well, just his Beretta 96A1 on him as he made the hike. Once he arrived he set about improving his artillery situation.

He inspected the perimeter at sunrise and found nothing amiss. The one road - by which the intruders were coming - hadn't been used in days at least. No reason to look here, except..

Dammit. Who was supposed to be watching him?

He looked the guns in the locker. Couple of 12-gauge Mossberg pumps, good at close quarters.

I don't want them that close.

The Marlin Camp Carbine. He'd used it occasionally on patrols, it handled easy and he was good with it. Fifty to sixty yards was about the limit though, iron sights and targets might be moving around.

Why wasn't there... nevermind. I wasn't planning to be here.

The pair of 1911s in a double shoulder rig would be handy. The carbine was a .45 and used the same magazines.

Gonna be here soon.

He strapped on the rig and checked the guns. A pouch on each side held two more magazines. He put several more in the pockets of his M-65.

He went back to the nest and looked at the screen. Probably a mile out, no hurry on a dirt road in unfamiliar terrain. Make it three minutes at least.

OK, figure at least six, maybe more. Don't be in here when they arrive. Pick off one or two while they're bangin' on the door, make it easier to deal with the rest.

He slung the Carver wakizashi across his back. The two feet of tool steel Mack had ground in his shop in Tulsa for him and the other six Irondogs had come in handy for most of them a time or two.

He put the belt holding the Beretta and a couple of magazines on. He needed all the firepower available.

He exited by the front door, locking the deadbolt. If several of them grouped around it he could improve the odds quickly. The big red cedars scattered around the place with waist-high grass and weeds would help too. He'd cleared a space for the house and a couple of small outbuildings but otherwise the acres overgrown with cedars of various sizes was largely untouched. The trails only he would know would be useful.

He took a position behind a large tree about forty yards from the door and waited with the Marlin. He'd shot running coyotes at fifty yards with ease.

The nine would give me more shots, but it ain't here. I got what I got.

It would be head shots anyway, as the agents were almost certainly wearing body armor. One is enough in that case.

The cars rolled into view, stopped about twenty feet from the house. Thirty from his position. With a rifle and thirty rounds he could take down a few as they were getting out of the cars. Or moving to the house.

Smart enough to spread out if nothing else.

They stayed behind the cars, crouching with rifles leveled. Twelve in all.

Fuck! Not taking any chances. They think.

One had a megaphone.

"Roger Thompson. This is the FBI. We have the house surrounded. You have five minutes to come out with your hands up. The clock is running now."

Their attention would be on the house during that time. Let the clock run and see what their next move is.

They can't even be sure I'm here. Let'em breach the door get some inside, pick off a couple of the outside ones? One man can't keep the rest bottled up though.

He checked the magazines in the pockets of the field jacket. Four, twenty- eight rounds. Then it's pistols.

And the knife.

"We're coming in. If you resist you will be shot. Last chance."

After about thirty seconds some of the force began moving towards the front door while several went around back.

Actually could've taken the ones in the back out real quick, pop a couple more when they come runnin' around.

Two of the ones in front had gas grenade launchers of the type that usually held several rounds.

The commander conversed briefly on his radio, then motioned to the men with the launchers. Each fired two rounds through each of the two windows nearest him.

Let'em wonder if I'm in there.

He wondered if it never occurred to them he might be outside, watching them. Probably not, as they hadn't much experience dealing with his type. Many of the ones who did weren't alive.

He saw several putting on gas masks. Six, half the team. They approached the door, one carrying a shotgun. Probably to breach the door. The other three at the front covered them with their rifles.

The cop with the shotgun blasted the hinges and two of the other kicked down the door and the group entered.

Now's as good a time as any.

He fired at the covering man on the left, swept the Marlin to the right taking the other two. All head shots, five of six seconds. Four shots left.

There would be five around back. They were already coming, and he took one as he rounded the corner. And then another.

Two more rounds.

Five were down and six were in the house.

Other guy still around back. Good. Now let's see what you got. .

One of those inside the house appeared in the doorway, surveying the situation, backed inside.

Cowards all, Roger thought. Not to mention inept. He suspected the one out back was peering around a corner somewhere, looking for the source of the attack.

Good luck with that. What'll they do besides something else stupid?

They could come out and take cover behind the cars, from the other side this time. He decided to change his position. Moving at a quick jog, shielded by the trees he moved around so he could see the space between the cars and the house. They might be calling for backup, but how far away was that? He could just walk away leaving them to explain their screwup, but...

Nah, let's watch for a while.

Suddenly the entire crew exited the house, running for the cars. They took cover between the cars, which were parked in a line with just a few yards between them. They couldn't know they were relatively safe there - for the moment - but the best move for now.

The sole surviving outside man still wasn't visible. Probably the commander was talking with him to see if he had any ideas. Roger took out his Commpad and tried to make contact. On the third try he got through.

"Alex? Where are you?"

"On Green Creek. What're you doing?"

"I've got'em surrounded. Should I wait for reinforcements before finishin'em off?"

"What's the situation?"

"Then sent a dozen and they're down to seven. They can't see me but all I got is a Camp Carbine and a my forty-fives. They're all wearin' armor."

"You're forty minutes away minimum. They'll have a chopper out there in less time. Can you retreat? Head for the pickup and... hang on,"

He's talkin' to someone. Probably gettin' something going.

"I've got a team leaving in five minutes. If they can't see you you can get to the rendezvous before they arrive. Can you do that?"

"Got it. Heading that way now."

After I giv'em something to keep their heads down a little longer.

The guy from out back was coming towards the cars. Roger raised the Marlin and fired. He fell in midstep, the helmet coming off. Long blonde hair.

Lot of women in the feds these days. Don't have to earn their position they way ours do. Tough luck.

He'd shot a couple of women before, after they fired at him or were about to. He didn't like it. He liked getting shot even less.

That should keep'em down for a while longer. Time that chopper gets here I'll be long gone.

He replaced the magazine in the Marlin anyway, and started back the way he'd come in and hoped the turncoat had just told them where he might be, not how he got there. Need to get to the pickup point and that meant going back the way he came in.