"Rapid Wrath, Chpt 2" by James C. Oliver

A Police Station in Geneva

“So, what do we have so far?”  The sergeant asked the two officers in charge of the investigation.

“Very little.  Three bodies, one of them was decapitated, their weapons, and eyewitness accounts of what bystanders thought they saw.”  It was well-known in law enforcement circles that an eyewitness was practically worthless in a court of law because even a semi-competent lawyer could convince them that they really saw nothing at all.

“What weapons were they carrying?”

“Short swords.  Not fencing swords, more like short broadswords.  The eyewitnesses say that one of them had a long sword, and apparently knew how to use it better than one of the assailants.”

“Well, that doesn’t help much.”  A phone rang behind the sergeant, who answered the phone.  The two detectives looked on, watching his face go from passive aggressive to strained.

“What do you mean, the bodies are gone?  Bodies don’t simply get up and walk out of the morgue on their own!  Thanks,” the sergeant hung up, and gave the detectives an incredulous look.  “Well, you no longer have bodies.  Not even the severed head.  Figure out what is going on, and do it fast.  This is not a common occurrence.  Something in going on that we need to find and stop.  Get on it.”

The sergeant couldn’t have known just how right he was.

Safe House

Because only a limited amount of furniture was needed, there was almost too much room in the new house.  Nick had bought some cooking essentials to stock a nicely-equipped kitchen, and put some non-perishables in so that he wouldn’t have to go out much to buy food.  When it was all ready, he went down into the basement.

It was dark, and not well lit, but the new lights he had bought worked to lighten the place up.  Celtic had already set up the work table and the wall of tools and equipment.  On the opposite wall, was a new gun rack, pre-fitted with four rifle grooves and a locker with some stands for pistols, and a large area for ammunition.  First thing he did after turning on the lights was to analyze the contents of the three boxes that Jimbo had secured the second day that they had been in-country.  He opened the smaller one first.

“Bingo.”  Inside, there were ten magazines for 5.56mm ammunition, and three ammo cans, each holding 300 rounds of a new kind of bullet, one that had a tungsten core and Teflon coating, making them armor-piercing.  Not even Kevlar could stop them.  Nick put the magazines and ammo cans on the first shelf of the five foot-tall locker.  Next, he pulled out six magazines for their Mark 23As, and a pair of suppressors.  The last thing in the box was close to 200 rounds of the .45 caliber ACP round, all of it in 25 round boxes.

Putting the empty box behind him, he whipped out his SEAL Knife 2000, a 9 inch newer rendition of the revered Kbar, and opened the second-largest box.  A tight smile blossomed on his mouth, showing his consent at what the Armorer set him up with.  Inside the box was a SOPMOD (Special Operations Peculiar MODification) M4A1.  It was Nick’s own baby, well tuned and balanced for any operation that might come his way.  Fitted with a Rail Integration System (RIS), it could accept many modular parts such as sights, IR pointers, lasers, and flashlights, all designed to help the operator do his job in a hostile environment.  Nick had his permanently equipped with the IR pointer, a 9-volt flashlight, suppressor and ACOG 4x scope.  He gently inspected every surface, then put it in its place in the rack.  His eyes went wide at the next weapon he found in the box.  A brand-spanking new SIG SG2000, complete with integral suppressor and Tasco 4x scope.  He figured that there had been no PSGs available when they had asked for them, and so simply put the weapon next to his baby.  “OK, they must have confused us with a different order,” Nick flatly stated.  He withdrew an AK-74U, the more modern version of the Kalishnikov rifle favored around the globe by Third World countries for it cheap cost and ease of maintenance.  This he placed in the third slot.  The last weapon in the box was another one that he was expecting.  Another SOPMOD, this one had a laser, flashlight, suppressor, forward vertical handgrip and an ACOG.  This was Jimbo’s baby from serving with Marine Force Recon prior to recruitment to the VSF.

This done, he placed the first inside the second and opened the third.

Nick was now very much sure that they had gotten the request wrong.  Inside this box was a pair of Squad Automatic Weapons (SAWs) and a pair of Light Anti-tank Weapons (LAWs).  Underneath those, Celtic found a note.  ‘Hope these help you a bit.  Yallis are on the move, and might try to come after you in a big way.  Watch your six, Celt.’  He looked at the signature and just had to laugh.  “Jennifer, you’re a trip!”  He took note of the four pre-loaded boxes of ammunition for the SAWs, along with two more LAWs.  He shook his head and moved the big box into the next room.  He headed back upstairs, aiming to pick up a Powerade and read the Herald.  Almost randomly, he decided that he had better check his email, in case anything new was up.  Nick leaned back in the chair, sitting through the power-up and connection process was boring and he thought of what sort of mission would require a safe house that wasn’t already set up.  He looked at the screen and noticed the subject line of the only message.  What he read made him drop almost backwards.  He immediately snatched the cell phone off his belt and called Jim.

“Que pasa?”

“Muchisimos problemos, amigo.  You need to get your arse down here.  RIGHT NOW.”

Vampire Presidential Palace

“They did WHAT?”

“They launched a direct attack on the most important third of your cabinet, sir.  Two were killed, one died later during surgery.  One will make it through, but she’s shaken up pretty bad.  Overall, we’ve taken two prisoners and killed ten that we know of,” one of the aides reported.

“What were our losses?”

“Twenty dead, close to fifty wounded.  Red Squad was obliterated, Blue is down to fifty percent.  Black has two wounded.  Our security services are stepping up our training pipeline; we should have recovered our losses in about a month,” stated another.

“But until then, we are slightly undermanned.”  The president sat in his chair, and held the bridge of his nose.  “Activate the reserves.  And tell Congress.  We’re at war.”

“Yes sir.  Do you want to be evacuated to the secure location?  Or shall I have VSF double the guard here?”

“I’ll stay here for a bit, and ask the US for help.  Maybe even the British.  Then I’ll head to the island.  The only thing I don’t like about being there is that there is no where to retreat to.  If they launched a surprise attack, then we’re dead.”

“We’ll have the Impaler standing by, just in case, sir.  You can be aboard her in less than five minutes from wherever you are on the island.”

A new person joined the group hovering around the president.  “Sir, we have a problem, and we have to get you out of here right now.”

“What now?”

“Four unidentified helicopters are heading at low altitude and high speed to this location.  We’re evacuating you as a security precaution.”

“OK.  Get my daughter and we’re outta here.”  The president stood and took one last look out the window at the mountains.

“Daddydaddydaddydaddydaddy!!”  A small figure bolted past and under the group of aides in the office.  “Daddy!!  These mens are trying to get me to leave Mr. Snowball!!”  The girl held up a white teddy bear in one hand and put her other hand on her hip in obvious indignation.

“Well, we’ve got to get on the helicopter and go because some bad men are coming to find us, but we’re going to leave here so that they can’t find us.”

“Oh!”  There was plain excitement on the girls face as she thought of the all-too-real game of cat and mouse.  “Well, let’s go then Daddy!!”

The President smiled and looked at his staff.  “You heard the girl.  Let’s go!”