Authors: Craig Reed Jr
Red Ice (8 page)
San Francisco
12:51am
The warehouse was close to both the South Basin and Candlestick Park, less than two miles south from the site of the pier ambush. Two stories tall, made from block and corrugated steel, it was surrounded by a chain-link fence topped with three strands of barb-wire and with installed privacy slats. It sat alone, surrounded by bare ground for several hundred feet in every direction except to the southwest, where a public housing complex was undergoing renovation and expansion. The team had studied satellite shots of the property for most of the afternoon before settling on a plan.
The two OUTCAST team vans ran without lights and rolled to a stop on a dirt road fifteen hundred feet northeast of the warehouse. Both drivers wore night vision goggles. They parked their vehicles and killed the engines. On a word from Tanner, the teams climbed out and took up positions around the vans. All wore black BDUs, Dragonskin armor with armored knee, elbow and shin pads, watch caps, and had their faces darkened with camo paint. All were outfitted with hands-free communications equipment.
Since this was a “Black Op” — an operation done without the knowledge of local law enforcement agencies — the team carried an alternate weapons loadout. Instead of their HK MP5s, each member brought a Colt Commando with attached M-203 grenade launcher. The HK SOCCOMS were replaced with SIG-Sauer P229 pistols chambered for .40 caliber rounds, and all but Danielle carried combat knives. Normally, they would all have flash-bang grenades, but if the warehouse was a drug lab, the chances of a chemical explosion were too great should a grenade detonate inside. Instead, Team Able — Tanner, Naomi and Stephen — carried half-a-dozen M576 Buckshot Rounds for the M-203s. Team Bravo — Liam and Dante — had three M406 HE and five M651 CS rounds, as they were staying outside.
The night was overcast, the first wisps of fog beginning to form. A few outside lights were on in the target compound. They observed the property for five minutes in silence. Then, Steven, Naomi and Dante remained on watch while Tanner, Danielle and Liam went to the back of the second van and opened its rear doors. While Danielle took out a tablet and booted it up. Tanner and Liam produced a strange looking device from the van’s cargo area.
A friend of Tanner’s had recently started a drone manufacturing company, and Tanner, in return for a six-figure investment in the company, received several drones for the team’s use. The one they had utilized over the pier the night before, dubbed the Night Wasp, was the size of a laptop. This one was larger, about the dimensions of a small bookcase. It had six rotors spaced out around a hexagonal frame and stood three feet high. An HD camera was mounted side by side with night vision and infrared cameras, and all three were mounted under the central housing. The placement allowed the cameras to move 360 degrees on the vertical axis and 180 on the horizontal. The drone sat on three legs with wide feet, and was matte black in color.
Unlike the Night Wasp, this one, dubbed Night Cobra, had the ability to carry extra payload in the form of a dozen grenades in radio-controlled adjustable clamps attached to the central housing. Tonight, the Night Cobra was loaded with a mix of flash-bang, smoke and tear gas canisters. From the back of the van, Danielle could control which grenades were dropped and when. Intended for sale to police agencies, the Night Cobra was designed to give law enforcement the high ground in any situation.
“All right,” Danielle said softly, staring at the tablet screen. “I have green on all clamps. Remove pins.”
Liam and Tanner pulled the grenade pins, the clamps keeping the arming levers in place. “Still green,” Danielle said. “Stand back.”
Once the pair was clear, all six rotors started up, the electronic hum barely audible even from a few feet away. Slowly, it lifted into the night sky.
Tanner watched it disappear, then touched his radio. “OUTCAST Prime to Striker: Cobra is airborne.”
“Copy, Prime,” Vessler returned. Her team, a mix of San Francisco and Oakland DEA agents, was half-a-mile away from the warehouse, at the entrance of Candlestick Point State Recreation Area, across the street from Candlestick Park. “Standing by.”
It took the drone less than a minute to cover the distance between the team and the warehouse. “Over the target now,” Danielle said, her eyes never leaving the tablet’s screen. After a few seconds, she added, “No one outside the fence. I have six men outside the warehouse. Two by the gate, two on the southeast side near those sheds, and two patrolling the fence line.”
“Entry points still good?” Tanner asked.
“Looks like it. You definitely don’t want the southeast end of the compound — any driver coming around the curve from the stadium will see you in their headlights.”
“The other drone ready?”
Danielle tapped the tablet screen. “Yes. Cobra’s in a holding pattern over the compound.” She reached into the van and took out the smaller drone. In seconds, it was also disappearing into the dark sky.
“Prime to team, let’s move.”
#
Ten minutes later, the team was moving across the open field in single file, staying low and relying on their night-vision goggles to see what lay ahead. An eight-foot tall rise prevented them from viewing the objective except for the warehouse’s second floor, but it also meant the guards on duty in the yard couldn’t see them.
“No change,” Danielle said softly. She was monitoring both drones’ cameras — the Cobra over the warehouse and the smaller Wasp over the vans, its sensors able to warn Danielle if someone approached the vehicles.
The team reached the rise without incident and low-crawled up the slope until they could see the warehouse. Tanner took out a tablet and stared at the scene from the Cobra’s point of view. Between them and the fence was more than two hundred feet of clear land. From the rise, they could see the lights surrounding the compound, the largest lighted area in sight. Through their night vision goggles, they could make out some detail on the three loading bays, with stairs and a door on the left end of the loading docks. The bays were empty of trucks, but the Cobra’s camera showed a few vehicles parked near the fence.
Tanner looked over at Liam and Dante. “Bravo Team,” he subvocalized, his radio carrying the words to both men. “Get going.”
“Bravo copies,” Liam replied. He and Dante moved left, staying behind the rise.
Tanner transmitted again. “Able to Watchdog: How long before Blackout’s ready?”
“Blackout’s ready now,” Danielle replied.
Tanner smiled. “Copy, Watchdog. Wait for my word.”
“Copy.”
They lay there silently for ten minutes, Tanner monitoring the screen while Stephen and Naomi scanned their surroundings through their NVGs. Finally, Liam breathed over the radio, “Bravo to Able. In position.”
“Able to Watchdog. Execute Blackout in ten ticks.” Tanner slipped a buckshot round into the breach of his grenade launcher. Naomi and Stephen also loaded their launchers.
“Copy. Blackout in ten, nine, eight… .”
As soon as Danielle said
one
the lights inside the compound blinked once and then cut out. Tanner surged to his feet, followed by Naomi and Stephen. They raced over the rise and headed for the fence at a full run. As they got closer they could hear Chinese and English shouts from beyond the fence.
Their objective was a tree next to the fence’s north corner. As soon as they reached it, Tanner and Stephen stopped and dropped to one knee, each covering one side of the tree. Without slowing, Naomi reached the tree and started climbing. Once she was higher than the fence, she moved out onto an overhanging limb. Through her night vision goggles, she could see the guards running around with flashlights, but none were near her. Below her was an open patch between two cars. She rolled off the limb and dangled for a few seconds before dropping to the ground. She crouched next to one of the cars and unslung her Commando. “Three’s in.”
Twenty seconds later, Stephen dropped to the ground next to her, and thirty seconds after that, Tanner was with them. Looking over the car’s hood, they could see the guards clustered near the loading docks, their flashlights bouncing around, showing flashes of them and the weapons they carried.
“Bravo to Able,” Liam transmitted. “Go.”
“Let’s move,” Tanner subvocalized. The three started moving toward the warehouse.
#
From their location hidden behind bushes inside the warehouse fence line near the eastern corner, Liam and Dante watched Able Team dash across the space between the fence and the warehouse. Because of the darkness, none of the guards, all armed with an assortment of rifles and machines guns, saw them.
They had crept to the part of the fence overgrown with brush and weeds, cut their way through the fence with wire cutters, and slipped in. They would guard Able Team’s back.
The door on the loading docks flew open and another man stepped out, a large flashlight in his hand. He shouted something at the guards and they split up, four of them heading for the fence, while the apparent guard captain and the last two men headed for a small building next to the warehouse. Meanwhile, Tanner and the others reached the loading docks and crouched behind a dozen wooden pallets stacked up in one of the truck bays until the guards had scattered. Once that happened, the three OUTCASTs headed for the loading dock.
“Watchdog to Prime,” Danielle said over the radio. “Two Tangos are back at the gate, two more are making a sweep to the southwest, and the last three have gone into a shed, probably to start the generator. Estimate you have about twenty seconds to get inside before they get power back up.”
“Copy,” Tanner replied.
Liam saw Able climb onto the loading dock, move to the door and slip inside. “Watchdog,” he radioed, “Able’s inside. Keep me apprised of all Tango movements.”
#
The warehouse was pitch black when Tanner lead Naomi and Stephen into it. They heard a few shouts in both English and Chinese and saw the flickering of flashlights. Stacks of crates and pallets stood twenty feet inside the loading dock doors, a wall of wood and plastic-wrapped boxes forming a barrier against anyone looking inside the warehouse. There were several aisles separating the crates and pallets into rows. Tanner sub-vocalized, “Stay to the right. We’ll take the aisle on the end.”
Tanner took the lead, Naomi to his right, while Stephen covered the rear. They moved at a fast walk, silently gliding across the concrete floor. They progressed quickly around the corner and down the aisle. Tanner had gone only twenty feet before he noticed the pallets and crates ended, replaced by closely-spaced bars. He slowed, holding up a hand to signal the others to stop. He moved forward and peered through the bars.
He was looking into an eight foot by eight foot cage — wide enough to take up the whole width of the aisle. Tanner’s eyes widened behind his NVGs when he got a clear look into the cage. “My God.”
Half a dozen people occupied the small enclosure. Most were lying on the floor, apparently asleep, but a couple sat against the bars, heads down. A couple looked small enough to be children and when Tanner knelt and looked at the nearest person, he saw a middle-aged Asian man, wearing rough clothing and asleep. He studied several more, seeing the same thing — Asians in rough clothing, all looking thin and tired.
Tanner rose and signaled the others to move forward. He looked down the aisle and saw identical cages in rows. “Able to Watchdog,” he subvocalized. “Contact Striker and tell her we have people in cages, probably Chinese illegals.”
“How many?”
“At least a hundred. They may be more in—”
The lights overhead flickered on, and from somewhere on the other side of the warehouse, Tanner heard a generator crank to life. He lifted his night vision goggles away from his eyes just as the lights came on to stay. There were still dark areas, but there was enough light for them to be seen by a Triad gunman who walked out of the closest cross aisle.
He shouted a warning in Chinese and started to bring up his AK-47, but Naomi and Stephen were faster. The man was struck by both bursts of 5.56mm rounds. He stumbled into the cage next to him, spun and dropped boneless to the floor.
“Move!” Tanner barked. “Second floor!”
There was a set of stairs ahead and to the right along the wall. Tanner ran for it, followed by Naomi and Stephen. They head shouts and running feet from elsewhere in the warehouse. An alarm went off, flooding the air with its shrill sound.
“Able to Bravo,” Tanner breathed. “Execute Dunkirk, repeat Dunkirk.”
“Copy, execute Dunkirk,” Liam returned over the radio. The lights were now on, making it easier to see the guards. He raised his Commando and fired at the closest so-called 49. The five-slug volley caught the man in the chest as he turned toward the warehouse. As the man went down, Dante shot a second Triad soldier with the same result.
They moved out of the bushes and angled toward a pile of rusting steel. Gunfire from near the cars and shouts chased them the last ten feet to cover. Several bullets ricocheted off the steel as the two dove for cover. Liam rose to his knees, pointed his Colt in the direction of the enemy’s location and fired off several controlled bursts. “Bravo to Able. Dunkirk underway, one-third complete.”
Behind him, Dante was on his feet, firing his submachine gun in the same direction as Liam. There was a scream, then silence. Liam glanced though the opening he was using as a firing port, but saw nothing but another body lying on the ground near the cars. “Fifty percent complete.”
“Able, Bravo!” Danielle’s voice was strident with urgency. “Two cargo trucks just turned onto your street from the northwest. They’re heading your way fast!”
“Doesn’t sound good,” Liam muttered.
“Two Tangos running for the gate,” Danielle continued. “The trucks are slowing and they’re opening the gates!”
“Definitely not good. Five, see the fourth Tango?”
“Yeah,” Dante replied, changing his Colt’s magazine for a full one. “Behind that white BMW.”
“Cover me. I’m going to move to that dumpster over there.” Liam motioned to a dark blue garbage bin thirty yards to the right and front of their position. “I can cover the loading dock from there.”
“Right.”
Liam got to his feet and crouched. “Ready… Now!” He sprinted for the dumpster as Dante fired a long burst at the BMW. The front tires exploded and the car sagged as the passenger’s side suddenly acquired a dozen 5.56mm bullet holes.
Dante stopped short of firing his entire magazine, and waited, his weapon poised. As he expected, the 49 quickly popped up from behind the car, his rifle seeking a target. Dante pulled the Commando’s trigger and the guard went down, blood splattering the BMW’s hood as he fell onto it.
“More Tangos!” Danielle said. “Confirm ten to fifteen new tangos are getting out of the trucks!”
Liam dove for cover behind the dumpster. He wrinkled his nose at the smell as he slipped a CS round into his grenade launcher. “Bravo to Able,” he said, switching magazines. “We’re about to have company!”
#
Tanner hit the stairs at a full run, taking the steps three at a time. Naomi and Stephen followed a few steps behind him, covering their flank and rear. Around them, the shouts of guards were joined by yelling from the awakened prisoners.
“Copy, Bravo,” Tanner said. “Keep them busy.”
Half way up, two gunmen appeared at the top of the stairs. Tanner’s finger tightened on the M-203’s trigger. A score of 24-grain metal pellets ripped into the 49s, shredding them. One fell backwards, but the other dropped his rifle and fell forward, sliding down the stairs face-first. He came to a stop half a dozen steps above Tanner, forcing the OUTCAST leader to shift to his right, closer to the wall. A hail of bullets went through the space where he had been, missing him by inches.
Tanner reached the top of the stairs. He brought the Colt up to his shoulder and swung it in a sixty degree arc, looking for targets. Naomi cleared the stairs two seconds behind him and dropped to one knee, covering another sixty degree arc. Stephen was next, spinning to cover the stairs and the other sixty degrees that wasn’t warehouse wall.
The second floor was free of cages and divided into two halves. To the right was a storage area with large blue plastic barrels lined up on shelves and more shelving behind them holding other supplies. To the left were a series of large plastic sheets attached to steel frames anchored to the floor, making it difficult to see more than a few shadows. A freight elevator was set into the far wall.
They moved toward the supplies. As they reached the first set of shelves, a Triad gunman stepped into view, finger tightening on his shotgun trigger. Tanner was quicker, stitching the shotgunner with a four-bullet burst to the upper chest and throat. As the 49 fell, the shotgun roared, sending its load of shot over the team’s heads.
“Crap.” Naomi read the barrel’s content labels. “Phenylacetone… N-methylformamide… sodium hydroxide… Definite meth material and enough to make a sea of it.”
“The lab must be in there.” Tanner pointed to the plastic wall. He loaded another buckshot round into the 203’s breech.
“Let’s go.”