Detachment Delta (3 page)

From research surveillance, Charlie knew there was also a lanyard with a shiny whistle attached, which Rashad wore for luck, even though he had not worked traffic for a couple of years. The original lanyard was made of black plastic strips braided into a diamond-weave pattern, but the plastic had cut into Rashad's neck and frequently left him with red streaks there that looked almost like burns. He wore the whistle now for luck, but the lanyard itself held no significance, so he had switched to a thick lanyard with a harder rubber core and soft cloth cover. It was very comfortable on the neck, and he never had to worry about chafing or scraping.

Charlie now produced from his rucksack an identical lanyard, which had been constructed by experts after seeing extreme close-up digital videos Charlie had made of the entire lanyard and whistle. Charlie compared the new one to the original and you would have been hard-pressed to tell the difference. Even the nylon material covering the outside had the same softness. The only difference was the inside of the new lanyard. The interior of the new lanyard was made of U.S. miltary det cord.

Det cord looks just like old plastic clothesline. Det cord is actually an abbreviation for detonation cord. It was first used during the Vietnam War and has many purposes. The center of it is made of the high explosive pentaerythritol tetranitrate, referred to normally as PETN or Pentrite. It can be set up between various explosive charges to make all detonate simultaneously, as it explodes at a detonation rate of 26,000 to 27,000 feet per second. The rule of thumb to cut a tree in half is to wrap three wraps of det cord around a tree for every foot of the trunk's thickness. It can even be wrapped around steel I beams a few times and when detonated will actually cut a beam in half. It is generally set off by a blasting cap, and Charlie now produced his coup de grace. He pulled a small plastic box out of his vest and opened it. Inside was a microtransmitter attached to the end of a miniature blasting cap with a small amount of composition C4 plastic explosive in the tip of it. The transmitter was so small that Charlie now carefully, with tweezers, inserted it into the airspace of the whistle. Unless Rashad developed a pressing need to blow the whistle, Charlie would get away with the expedient detonator.

Besides being one of the best assassins in the world, he also had some of the best technical experts in the world available to him to help carry out his assignments. This little item was just a minor example of what he could have made in less than twenty-four hours' time. This was an extremely important hit and money was no object.

Charlie put the original lanyard in his pack and carefully made his way toward the door. The entire time had only been minutes and was done in complete darkness while he wore a night vision device. Having taken one last glance around to be sure he had not disrupted anything, he left the apartment, quietly made his way down the hallway, and within minutes, was back in his basement apartment.

HE
packed everything up, replaced his elderly Orthodox Jewish man disguise, sterilized the apartment, and made his way to the convenience store two blocks away to call a taxi. The taxi then took him to his next apartment, which he worked out of on the other side of the Bronx, where he followed and kept track of James Rashad and his partner when they worked their patrol shift. He turned on the old TV and waited in the small roach-infested apartment, located above a liquor store owned by an old Korean couple. The two officers would be on shift, go through their briefing, and out on the street within the hour.

 

IT
was two hours later when the two passed by an older, shabbier part of town and a figure in black emerged from an alley shortly after they passed. He moved slowly, carefully, and silently in the shadows as they went down the street. They turned a corner and he dashed down an alley, knowing where Rashad was headed. He pulled his digicam from his pack as he rushed to get ahead of them.

DEA Special Agent Juan Atencio and his partner Felix User, watching from their darkened stakeout apartment with night vision devices, were perplexed as they saw the shadowy figure coming down the alley. Juan tapped NYPD Detective Sergeant Brad Pitt and Detective Dominic Fernella, working the joint operation with the feds, and pointed out the black-clad figure who had just sneaked silently down the alleyway, near an Econoline van. There were officers hiding and watching from several locations, and now some of the eyes were on the unsuspecting master hit man.

Raphael “Stinky” Navarro was a member of the Crips gang, which was quite obvious by his oversized North Carolina jersey and shorts, dark blue kerchief, and blue baseball hat, brim turned off to one side and covering the blue head wrap. He sat in the confines of the white Econoline panel van with darkened windows. He did not know that several snitches had told DEA officers and NYPD narcs that he would be making a major sale tonight. In actuality, he would be delivering to Officer James Rashad what the man demanded from him this night. He had been busted by Rashad one night with one full kilo of pure crank, speed, dextra-amphetamine, but instead of arresting him Rashad turned him into a snitch. For four months Rashad essentially intimidated Stinky into working for him, under threat of arrest. After finding out that his gang of Crips had secured some sophisticated weapons and explosives, James ordered him to secure the package he wanted on this night. It weighed thirty-five pounds and was something James Rashad wanted very badly when he learned about the weapons heist the street punks had pulled off.

The two DEA agents in charge and the two senior detectives had videotaped Stinky earlier when he placed the duffel bag in the van. It was obvious there was some sort of rectangular-shaped container or box in it, and they figured it was a giant stash of drugs.

Gerome Alexander and his senior partner were approaching the corner near the van, and as before, he already knew his place. James had a snitch he would meet with who would roll over on his gang members and other petty criminals. This night the senior black officer had confided in his junior partner that he was picking up a packet of drugs that he could not even look at but had been ordered to secretly turn in to a contact at the DEA, who wanted to fingerprint every inch of the package, which would be inside a duffel bag. James had told Gerome that he had a car coming to get the duffel bag a half hour after the pickup.

Gerome Alexander was an honest cop but a bit of a jerk, who had been a nerd all through high school. Bespectacled and not really looking like someone you would consider a beat cop, he had the highest resisting-arrest bust rate in the precinct, which made the seasoned veterans disrespect him. They knew most of his perps with black eyes and puffed lips had received those after being cuffed. James Rashad, the large, well-muscled black officer, had always treated his partner like a friend though, so he had become close to James even though all the other officers in the precinct found Rashad aloof. He was friendly enough but just not someone who would go have a beer with the others after shift.

They turned the corner and Special Agent Juan Atencio said over the radio, “Two officers coming by. Hope they do not queer this op.”

Alexander stopped at the corner and Rashad went directly to the van on the deserted street.

Atencio said, “Holy Crap, Batman! Looks like we might have a dirty cop, unless he is just checking out the van. Two-three and four-six, you two keep cameras rolling and eyes on our man in black in the alley. All units be ready to move in.”

James Rashad climbed into the passenger door of the van.

He started speaking with Stinky, saying, “Did you get me the weapon?”

Charlie was listening to this on the transmitter he had placed inside Rashad's radio handset.

Stinky said, “Yeah, brah. It's right here in the duffel bag.”

Charlie waited for him to have time to lift up the duffel bag for Rashad to see it, and then he raised the small radio transmitter that would set off the explosive charge. The small red LED light gave a very faint glow in the blackness of the alley. Charlie looked back up the alley to make sure nobody or no vehicles had entered, blocking his quick exit.

Four-six, which was Dom Fernella, looking with a high-power night vision scope, only twenty feet away from Juan, said into his voice-operated mouthpiece, “Damn, one-zero, the guy in black has his thumb on the switch of what could be a detonator of some sort, unless it is a radio.”

Juan yelled out in the large room, “Just stay on him!”

Charlie pushed the switch down on the handset detonator and the windows blew out of the van with the explosion. Officer James Rashad's head was severed completely from his body, and Stinky's right hand and arm were still attached to the duffel bag, but were separated from his body. The whistle, now turned inside out, had embedded itself in the side of his neck, but missed the jugular vein. He immediately started screaming. Down at the corner, Alexander dropped to the ground, covering his head with both arms protectively.

Charlie was already sprinting toward the other end of the alley.

Juan Atencio said professionally, “All units close in quickly. Get that son of a bitch in black in the alley. He just blew them up.”

Sirens went off as cruisers flew into the alley from both directions, blocking any hope for Charlie's escape.

“Close in on the van but watch for more explosions. Move fast but proceed with caution on the van. Take the officer into custody at the corner. Move! Move!”

Charlie had to make an immediate assessment, and he saw no fire escapes, doors that were not chained or bolted, or basement windows to use to affect his escape. He was already hearing screams to “freeze” or hold his hands up. The handwriting was clearly on the wall. For some reason, there were cops here on a major stakeout, probably because they had heard about the weapon changing hands, and he saw them closing on him and the van. There would be no escape. He would have to give up now and live to fight another day later.

He immediately took off his night vision goggles and rucksack and dropped them on the ground, and unholstered his Springfield Arms .45 XD semiautomatic pistol and set it on the rucksack, along with his large Gerber knife, which had been sheathed on the back of his right hip. He also slipped off the black tactical vest and dropped it on his rucksack, and turned around, placing his hands against the brick wall next to him and spreading his legs apart, to show no possible threat to the approaching officers.

Bubba Dalton was the largest officer in Alexander and Rashad's precinct, and he simply was one of those men who saw the top part of everybody's head. He was so big and solid that whatever he touched would always move. He was also a total racist and a bully, but he knew James Rashad, and the man was a cop in his precinct. Six men were now around the van, guns drawn, and Stinky, neck bleeding and still screaming, was roughly pulled out and Juan Atencio screamed to call for an ambulance.

Detective Sergeant Brad Pitt hollered out, “I know this officer. His name was James Rashad. His head was blown completely off his body. It's laying on the floorboard!”

By now Charlie was being cuffed, and Bubba Dalton screamed, “You cop killer!”

He grabbed Charlie and slammed him face-first on the hood of the cruiser that had come down the alley from the far end. Then he punched him several times. Charlie spit out blood and grinned at the monster, who got even more enraged and kneed Charlie in the ribs several times.

“Dalton!” Brad Pitt screamed, walking over. “Knock that crap off!”

Bubba yelled, “He is a cop killer, Sergeant! We ought to waste the punk!”

Brad Pitt said, “Yeah, we should but we won't.”

Bubba glared at the detective sergeant and then screamed in pain as the now-handcuffed Charlie head-butted him viciously, flattening and breaking his nose. The behemoth cop fell on the ground, and as his knees buckled, Pitt and another officer grabbed Charlie by both upper arms and escorted him to the backseat of the cruiser. Dalton was now rising to his feet, totally enraged, and looking for Charlie.

At the van, Atencio now had the duffel bag in his hand, and it had been unwisely opened by the first man on the scene. He looked inside, and seeing the metal container, he gave out a long, low whistle.

Seeing this from the alley, Pitt yelled, “What is it, Atencio, coke?”

Juan yelled back, “No, it is a damned Stinger missile!”

A murmur went through all the officers.

American soldiers on the ground had concerns in the past about low-flying enemy aircraft because of either bombing, surveillance operations, or inserting and supplying enemy troops. Shooting down these aircraft would be the easiest way to eliminate the threat, so not counting on support from the air or ground vehicles, the army concluded they needed a lightweight, portable weapon that could also be what is called a “fire and forget” weapon, such as the M-72 LAW or light antitank weapon created during the Vietnam War for use on enemy armor and bunkers. It was in essence a disposable bazooka. The Stinger missile is much larger and should be used by two men but can be used by one. The missile and its launcher weigh about thirty-five pounds, and unlike the LAW, the launcher itself is reusable. It is a shoulder-launched weapon, and one person can launch it.

Also the LAW used a pop-up plastic sight, but the Stinger missile is a passive infrared-seeker. If you fire one at a jet or other aircraft, it homes in on the heat signature or jet or engine exhaust and will travel right into the exhaust port of an aircraft and then detonate.

When the seeker locks on, it makes a distinctive noise. The soldier pulls the trigger, and two things happen: (1) a small launcher-type of rocket shoots the missile out of the launch tube, and (2) the launch engine drops away, and the main rocket engine takes over and shoots the Stinger at approximately 1,500 mph.