Half Past Midnight (32 page)

Ken nodded. “I saw that show. The tank he was in was an older M-60. What about it?”

“Well, when the cops got to the tank, they just climbed up on top and got into it with some bolt cutters. How’d they do that?”

“The tanks are designed where, if the crew is incapacitated, medics have a way to get in. The old M-60 had four hatches. The commander’s hatch, the gunner’s, and the driver’s are all on top.” He sketched a rough diagram on the wall with a piece of chalk. “With an escape hatch underneath.”

He drew another diagram beside the first. “With the Abrams, they got rid of the bottom hatch. The three top hatches are here, here, and here. This one,” he indicated the left-hand top hatch, “is the only one that can’t be locked from the inside. Instead, it’s made where you can run a lock through the dogging arm and an eyelet. It’s the same design carried over from the old M-60.”

Ken turned back to Ivory. “On that show you’re talking about, the police simply cut that lock and opened the hatch. Unfortunately, our circumstances are different.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because that tank was manned by only one person. He wasn’t able to man the guns and drive at the same time. With a full crew, no one would have ever gotten close to the tank without being shot to pieces.” He searched our faces, making sure that he’d made his point. “Any other questions?”

“As far as a pep talk goes, Ken, this one needs some work,” I quipped.

That got a few chuckles, but Ken squashed them immediately. “I’m not here to cheer you up. I’m trying to make you see that what you are about to try is gonna make last night seem like a cakewalk, and they kicked our butts last night. I want you
scared
. Because if you go into this scared, maybe, just maybe, you’ll stay alive long enough to get back to your families.”

There was a controlled fury in his gaze. You could see that he hated sending us out there, and that he hated that it had fallen to him to command this mess. But you could also see that he was determined to do the best he could.

“Leeland, pick your squad.”

***

Team Mohammed left at 8:00 p.m. Billy, Wayne, and I were one fourth of the group of familiar faces I had chosen. I wanted people I knew with me.

Two carried the ice chest of Astrolite, two more carried a wooden crate that Wayne indicated had tools and other paraphernalia we would need, and yet another pair carried the chest of HMTD. The rest of us scouted ahead.

It was our job to find an appropriate place, plant the Astrolite, and draw the tank into our ambush. The idea was Billy’s, but Ken named the team. Since we couldn’t go to the mountain, we were bringing the mountain to us.

The trick was to find someplace close enough to get the tank to investigate without calling in for reinforcements while they left their post, yet it had to be far enough away that we could plant the charges without being seen. Our team had two sets of night vision goggles to help us scout the area, and even then it took us more than half an hour to find our spot.

As with most things in life, we had to compromise. We settled on the intersection of Dullas and South 23rd, a few blocks east and one south of Eagle Stadium. There was nothing special about the location except for the number of potholes in the street.

“Madre de Dios,” René muttered, looking with distaste at the poorly maintained street. “Okay, now what?”

Wayne took off his night vision goggles and hung them on his belt. I took my cue from him and did the same with mine. He jerked his thumb at the street, and answered simply, “Now we dig.” And we did.

The potholes were pretty severe in places, as road repair was not exactly high on the list of priorities for the Rejas City Council. We pulled the asphalt out of some of the deepest holes, working mostly by feel in the darkness. Digging by hand, I laughed to myself as I contemplated the irony of the situation.

“Qué es… What is funny?” René hissed. You could always tell when she was agitated. It was at those times that her Spanish accent was most prevalent.

I shrugged to show that it wasn’t important. Then realizing she couldn’t see me, I explained, “For years we’ve bitched and moaned about potholes. But tonight, if we didn’t have them, we’d be up a creek.”

She grunted and turned back to digging, obviously wishing she hadn’t asked. René Herrera had been like that as long as I’d known her.
Gruff
was the way her acquaintances described her. I found that particular adjective to be a bit of an understatement.

We soon broke through to the soil beneath, digging several of the potholes out enough to hold a beaker of Astrolite. After completion of the sixth hole, Wayne called the rest of us into an open door. Inside the darkened building, we held a quick meeting by the light of a couple of subdued flashlights.

“I really think that these six should be plenty to cover the area,” Wayne started. “Hell, from what I read in your books, Leeland, six one-quart charges will probably be enough to completely erase the intersection altogether.”

“You think we should save the rest, in other words.”

“Yeah.”

“All right. Let’s plant the charges and move to a safe detonation distance.” I paused to think. “Uh, just how far do we need to go to be safe?”

Wayne shrugged. “Who knows? Best guess is about a block. Maybe more.”

“You don’ know for sure, though?” René prodded.

He snapped, “Well, you know, René, it’s not like I do this every day!” I guess he realized how he sounded because he immediately shook his head. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that. Guess I’m a little nervous.”

Surprisingly, she brushed it off. “No problema,” she told him. “Ever’body in the same boat here. We all nervous.”

I turned to the rest of the group. “Billy, you’ve already proven that you can handle this stuff. Pull out six beakers and six caps. Wayne, you know exactly what you had in mind with them. Show him how to assemble the charges.” Wayne turned Billy and led him back to the ice chests.

“The rest of it goes back to the main group. René, you and Slim take the chest of Astrolite back as soon as Billy and Wayne have unloaded what they need.” They nodded and went to help unload.

That left six people and six blasting caps. Unfortunately, I needed more warm bodies with me to lay the ambush. Time for a snap decision. “Okay. Matthew, Alan, Emily, I want each of you to grab two caps and take them back to the main group. Same as earlier today. One at a time, slow and careful.” I shone the light on my watch. “It’s ten fifteen. You have half an hour to go three blocks. I don’t care if it takes the whole time. Just don’t get caught, and don’t trip!”

They nodded and trotted off to grab their gear and the explosives.

Turning to those remaining, I continued, “The rest of us get to plant the mines and play decoy. It’s going be up to us to draw that tank and as many foot soldiers over here as we can. The more of them we can draw into the ambush, the fewer our people in the stadium will have to deal with.”

By the dim light of a covered flashlight, I looked at the grim faces around me. “Any questions?” No one answered. “Okay folks, let’s get going.”

I walked over to where Wayne and Billy worked on assembling the second of our charges. The first sat on the floor next to them. “What can we do to help?”

Wayne answered without turning, concentrating on what he was doing. “There’s a car battery, some tools, and coaxial wire in that box over there.” He jerked his chin toward the gear. “Leave one roll of the wiring here and splice the rest of it into six continuous lengths leading over to a building about a block away where you can still see the intersection.” He appeared to think for a second, then shook his head. “I think I can localize the explosions, but I don’t know for sure if it’ll work. Still better to keep a block away. Billy and I will bury these charges and wire them up. You just get the rest of the stuff far enough away that we can set them off without killing ourselves.”

One thing caught my attention. “You say you can localize the explosions?”

He didn’t answer right away, and I knew better than to interrupt his concentration as he carefully replaced the rubber stopper in the beaker with a tube of HMTD. When he finished, the glass beaker was plugged by another rubber stopper with a test tube attached to it, sticking down into the Astrolite. Two wires, each about two feet long protruded from the other end. Using exaggeratedly slow movements, he set the second beaker on the floor next to the first.

When he looked up, my flashlight showed beads of sweat on his forehead. “We use shaped charges,” he replied.

Sam asked before I could. “Shaped? How do you shape a liquid?”

“You put it in pre-shaped containers.” He held up one of the unprimed beakers. “If we bury these suckers upside down, the main force of the explosion should go straight up, assuming that those books of yours are right, and that I understood them.”

I didn’t get it, but there was no time for more explanation. “Okay, I’ll take your word for it.” I turned to get the wiring supplies he had mentioned.

“Leeland!”

“Yeah?”

“Whatever you do, don’t connect the wiring to the battery until we get there. I didn’t have time to get fancy with the detonator. You just connect the wires, and it all goes boom. I don’t want to be wiring one up when that happens.”

I chuckled. “Gotcha.”

“Edwin, you help Wayne and Billy. Sam, Ivory, help me get the wiring set up.”

It took fifteen minutes to complete the wiring, leaving the battery and remainder of the coax behind an old checkout stand inside a long-deserted convenience store. We ran back to see if we could help Wayne and the others.

They were carefully turning the fifth charge upside down and setting it gently in one of the holes. Wayne held it in place, while Billy and Edwin scooped the dirt in around it. I shuddered a bit when I saw Wayne sprinkling a generous pile of nails into the dirt before the rest of us cautiously finished burying it. When complete, all that was left sticking out of the ground was a pair of wires that Wayne rapidly connected to the ends of one length of the coaxial running down the street. I looked up and saw similar wires leading to the other four holes.

I turned away and cupped my hand over my flashlight, letting only enough light through to see my watch.

10:34.

“Almost time!” I hissed.

We all worked together on the final charge. At 10:38, we were carefully laying broken asphalt and gravel on the last spot and scattering debris to cover the wiring.

“Is that good enough to hide the wires?” Billy indicated a few places where wire emerged briefly from small piles of dirt and broken asphalt.

“It’ll have to be. We’re out of time,” I said. “We have smoke bombs that should cover it. Between that and the shooting, we’ll just have to hope they’re too busy to notice.”

I turned away to shine the light on my watch again. “It’s time.” When we left the plant that morning, I had brought along my last eight smoke bombs. I had given four to Ken, passed three more out to my group, and kept one for myself.

It was selfishness that caused me to split the group as I did, sending Ivory, Sam, and Edwin off in one squad, and keeping Billy and Wayne in my group. I justified it by telling my conscience that I would work better with people I knew well, but there was a niggling in my brain that accused me of wanting to keep my friends close at hand. My response was the same one I repeated so often lately.
No time to worry about it now.

Moving back down to Dullas, we picked positions just out of sight from the stadium. I saw Sam and Ivory go into a building across the street from us, while Edwin went around behind it, presumably to sight in around the back corner.

Billy stayed outside at the corner of the building into which Wayne and I went. The two of us inside picked windows facing the stadium and waited. I glanced one last time at my watch. 10:44.

Time. I clicked on the radio. “Ken?”

“Ken here. You about to start?”

“Yeah. Make sure everyone knows they have to sit the first few minutes out, or this is all for nothing.”

“Already done.”

“Good.” It seemed that there should be something else for me to say, but nothing came to mind.

“Leeland?”

“Yeah?”

“Good luck, man.”

“Thanks, Ken. You too.” Some things just couldn’t be put into words. “Out.”

I turned back to Billy and Wayne. “Ready?” They nodded.

“Pick your targets and make each shot count.”

I took a couple of deep breaths to steady my nerves and sighted in on one of the guards. There was no partying going on. They were actually standing guard. Larry must have really reamed them for the mess we made the night before. Unfortunately for them, they had stupidly increased the lighting in the area, showing us the juiciest targets.

I heard Ken’s voice in my head telling me as he had a thousand times before, “Steady… take a deep breath, and squeeeeze…”

My shot signaled the rest of the group, and everyone opened fire. Four of Larry’s men dropped before anyone knew what was happening. They quickly figured it out, though, and men scrambled for cover as they searched for their attackers. It didn’t take but a few seconds for them to figure out our general direction, and only a few seconds more for Wayne and I to figure out that the front of the building we were in consisted of nothing more than facade and sheetrock. Bullets tore through it like so much wet tissue. The only thing that saved us was the simple fact that Larry’s men didn’t know exactly where we were. Still, bullets ripped through the flimsy sheetrock, zinging around the warehouse and forcing us to scurry for more substantial cover.

Huddled behind a desk, Wayne yelled, “This isn’t working quite the way I imagined it!”

I ducked as the bookshelf I hid behind spat bits of paper at me. “Jeez! We’ve gotta get out of here! Billy! Cover us!”

He didn’t answer, but the rate of fire from the doorway increased significantly.

“Go!” I yelled at Wayne, but he was already scrambling through the door. When he got there, he began shooting with Billy.

“Come on, Lee! They’re moving this way!”