Holding Their Own XI: Hearts and Minds (41 page)

A few minutes later, things went from bad to worse. “Oh shit, Chase is going with them. He’s riding in the lead escort vehicle. What the hell is going on?”

Bishop knew the question was rhetorical and didn’t bother to speculate.

“What now, boss?”

“We follow them. I don’t know where they’re going, but I want to be there.”

The rumbling engines now reached them across the prairie, the small convoy pulling out of the Lewis Oil facility in single file. Nick’s sense of urgency spiked.

“Let’s hump it back to the truck,” Nick quickly decided. “If they head south or east, we’ll follow them.”

“If Chase is leading that parade, I’ll follow them to hell,” Bishop quipped.

The Alliance duo moved with far greater speed on the way back, no longer worried about sentries or patrols. They found the truck undisturbed and were soon hustling to strip off most of the bulky equipment and get on the road. “They’ve got almost an hour’s head start, but I’m thinking that old school bus isn’t a speed demon on the road. We’ll be able to catch up… I hope.”

After a quick exchange, it was decided Bishop would drive and Nick would navigate. “There are not that many roads in this neck of the woods, and they seem hell bent on creating trouble for us, so I’m guessing south. Turn back the way we came.”

“They must be heading toward an objective that’s pretty far away,” Bishop commented as he turned onto the blacktop. “Why else leave at this time of night?”

“Let’s see…. If I wanted to arrive at my target at dawn… and give myself an extra hour in case something went wrong, that gives me roughly six hours of driving time. Say the old bus can do 50 miles per hour… that gives them a 300-mile range. Hell, that’s a big hunk of Texas, including Alpha.”

It then dawned on Nick what Chase’s objective might be. Diana.

Throwing a worried look at his partner, Nick’s voice was full of dread. “You don’t think they’re taking another try at Diana, do you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. Chase knows our security procedures and already has people in place. On the other hand, if I were going to try and take her out, I’d bring a hell of a lot more men than what boarded that bus.”

Nick’s foreboding grew. “They don’t have to kill her. Even the appearance of a military coup would push the Alliance over the edge.”

Bishop pulled out his NVD and switched off the truck’s headlights. He could actually see further down the road with the light amplification technology than with the illumination generated by the high beams. When they did catch up with the convoy, without any headlights behind them, there would be little chance that Chase’s men would detect the tail.

The driving technique reminded the Texan of the bug-out from Houston so long ago. Like now, Terri and he had navigated the post-crash landscape at night, using the technology to guide them. There was a difference, though. His wife and he had been the prey on that journey. Tonight, he was the predator.

They spotted the semi’s high-mounted trailer lights just over 90 minutes later, aided by the flat terrain and Nick’s running stream of “Turn right here,” and “Head south here,” guidance.

Bishop kept the pickup well back, cautious of giving the men in front of them any hint that they were being followed. It was stressful work, each small town and intersection slowing the head of the inch-worm and causing the Texan to react and avoid the ass slamming into the head.

An hour later, the convoy made an unanticipated turn. “What the hell?” Nick grumbled, looking at the map with his red-lensed flashlight. “They should have taken a right back there if they were heading to Alpha. This road runs south and east. Where the hell are they going?”

Tagging along, the duo was now completely stumped. It was 4 AM when the convoy’s brake lights signaled they were stopping. Bishop did the same.

“Now what?” Nick asked, not really expecting his driver to answer.

“Piss break?”

“Lord knows I could use one,” Nick agreed, reaching for the door handle.

“Wait,” Bishop snapped. “If you open that door, the dome light will come on.”

Nick glanced from his friend to the plastic lenses mounted on the roof. Clenching a fist, he punched the offending light once, twice, and then crushed the bulb with the third strike.

“There. You happy?”

“Yeah… I happy I’m not your insurance agent.”

“When a man’s gotta go, a man’s got to go,” Nick replied, opening the door and stepping out into the night.

After a 30-minute stop, the Lewis forces were again on the road, most likely with empty bladders. 

The cat and mouse game continued across northern Texas, Bishop and Nick eagerly watching every turn and marker, trying to predict the imposters’ final destination.

“Should we use my Sat-phone and call Sheriff Watts?” Bishop offered at one point.

“And say what?” Nick replied. “That we’re following a group of men in Army uniforms riding in an old church bus, and we’re positive they’re up to no good? Even if the good sheriff could muster a few deputies, what are they going to do? Execute a traffic stop and then get ambushed and killed?”

Bishop had to admit, the big guy had a valid point.

“We’ll call for the cavalry once we’ve figured out what they’re up to. Until then, given the time of night, putting the entire territory on alert just doesn’t seem prudent.”

A few more miles had passed before Nick reconsidered. “Give me that phone. There is one precaution we can take.”

After Bishop had fished the high-tech device out of his pack, Nick dialed a number from memory. A sleepy sounded voice answered, “Hood, Duty Officer, state the nature of your call.”

Nick said his name, a special code word, and then stated, “I want four rifle squads on ready-5 status. Unknown, armed force of approximately 60 men in Texas Army uniforms traveling south from Oklahoma.”

Bishop listened as Nick continued his report, giving the location and additional details of the caravan they were following. The head of Alliance Homeland Security ended the conversation with a forceful, “Now listen carefully, Captain. When I call the next time, even if there’s been a shift change, I want rifles in the air within five minutes. Got it?”

Evidently, the response was what Nick wanted to hear, the call ending shortly after that.

“Smart move,” Bishop commented, keeping his eyes on the distant taillights in front of them. Just then, a roadside sign drew his attention. “It looks like were heading toward Fort Worth. That sign back there said we were only 20 miles outside of town,” he added. “Now what in the hell would they be after in…”

“Oh shit,” Nick barked, his face blanching pale. “The gold.”

“The what?”

“The gold we’ve been gathering to back the new Texas currency. The repository is just outside Fort Worth in an old bank building.”

Bishop knew the gold he’d captured from the bank robbers had been moved from the bat cave to some unknown location. He’d also heard that the council had been sending men to various bank vaults to gather as much of the precious metal as possible. The fact that the stash was in Fort Worth was a surprise.

“Why there?” the Texan asked.

“It was the only vault large enough that had one of the old fashioned locks. We found an old, retired guy who was a locksmith who remembered how it worked. The newer, electronic mechanisms weren’t stable enough, and there’s no source of spare parts, so we choose this location.”

“How well is it guarded?”

“There are normally about 20 soldiers surrounding the place. We tried to keep their presence low profile so no one would start asking a lot of questions. No armor or machine gun nests, but more than enough to hold off the typical robbery.”

“Well, hiding in plain sight didn’t work out so well. I think Chase knows your secret, and the party he’s getting ready to throw is a bit more potent than the typical heist. You’d better be calling the cavalry,” Bishop recommended.

“Let’s make sure. I don’t want all those birds buzzing half of Texas in the middle of the night if we’re wrong. Even with the men they have on that bus, it would take them a while to overcome the security and blow the safe.”

“Unless he has the combination,” Bishop countered.

Sure enough, the lead convoy pulled off the road less than a mile from the old bank. Bishop followed suit, quickly finding a good place to hide the truck.

Again, the duo was pulling on packs and weapons. A few moments later, they were trotting off into the night.

Evidently, Chase and his men were confident that their little scheme remained a secret.

Bishop and Nick managed to get very close without encountering any sort of sentry or picket line. The old grocery store parking lot, selected as a jump-off point for the bank robbers, was bustling with activity.

After watching the proceedings for less than a minute, Nick said, “Let’s get in front of them. We can spring a little ambush and warn the bank’s security force. We’ll call in the Blackhawks from Hood as soon as I’m positive of their objective.”

“You’re the boss,” the Texan replied, double-checking his extra magazines.

Four hundred meters from the repository, Nick spied the perfect place to set up an ambush.

Two stout-looking buildings sat at the intersection, neither appearing to be occupied by much more than cobwebs. Nick quickly pointed to the distant bank and said, “That’s our rally point after we spring the ambush. Cut them up as best we can and then hightail in that direction. I’ll call Hood as soon as the shooting starts.”

Then, much to Bishop’s surprise, Nick said, “Wait. Hold on a second. We can’t do this… at least not this way.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“We can’t just cut down a bunch of men walking along the street, fake uniforms or not. What if they’re on their way to rescue a long, lost relative? What if they’re reenactors, or making a movie or something?”

Bishop was stunned, not believing his friend’s restraint. “Really? Seriously? Do you want to just walk up and ask Chase if he’s trick or treating for Halloween?”

“No, that’s a good way to get killed. On the other hand, we need to be absolutely, positively, 100% sure these guys are trying to steal the Alliance’s gold.”

Glancing nervously at the spot where over 60 armed men were about to appear, Bishop said, “Okay, boss, what’s the plan?”

Nick didn’t have to think long, “You go and warn the guards… get them up and at their posts just in case.”

Bishop shook his head, “They don’t know me from Adam. You’re the Alliance’s honcho. You go warn them. I’ll inquire as politely as I can what my buddy Chase and his friends are doing under the cover of darkness.”

“Politely?” Nick asked, the skepticism dripping from the word.

“I promise,” and then as an afterthought, Bishop continued. “Why are we dicking around with this? Call in those birds and barrels from Hood. We can sort this out after Chase and his boys are disarmed, on their knees… with their hands on their heads.”

Nick pondered his friend’s request, but then decided against it. “There’s more than enough security at the bank to hold them off until help arrives. If we end up killing the ambassador and his motley crew of U.S. citizens before we have undeniable proof, the headlines in Washington will drone on and on about the massacre in Fort Worth. We have to handle this in the right way.”

“Fuck them,” sounded Bishop’s hasty reply, but then he immediately softened. “Okay, Mister Diplomat, I’m not walking in your boots. Go warn the white hats. I’ll delay these clowns for as long as possible. By the way, I want to be buried on the ranch, and I want my tombstone to say, ‘Damn it, Nick! I tried to tell you…’”

Nick didn’t wait for his friend to finish, vanishing in an instant, a shadow trotting toward the bank. Bishop was left alone in the street, looking for a position where he could both issue a challenge and withstand what was sure to be a withering hailstorm of gunfire.

A few minutes later, he spied them, glowing bright red in his thermal imager. They were spread like a rifle company, single file on each side of the street. Some of the men were carrying what appeared to be RPGs or Rocket Propelled Grenades. All were armed, with at least three belt-fed weapons visible in the lead elements. “Shit,” Bishop whispered. “Me and my big mouth.”

He waited until they were a half block away and called out from his hide. “Good day, Ambassador McQuire. Out taking in the air kind of early this morning, aren’t we?”

Bishop wasn’t overly impressed with the approaching riflemen’s reactions. They hesitated just a moment before moving for cover.
Too slow
, he thought.
Definitely not pros.

“Who is that?” called back a voice from the night. “This is Captain Steven Reedy, Texas 7
^th
Cav, first of the third. Who goes there?”

Bishop had to grin at the man’s bluff. “Don’t bother with the bullshit, Captain, or whoever you are. We know you just left the Lewis Oil facility in Oklahoma. The real Texas 7
^th
Cavalry is on the way here. A lot of them. And they’re pissed that you posers are wearing their colors.”

“Bishop?” a voice called from the right. “Is that you?”