Episode 32 Landing at Point Rain (part 2/3) (Patreon)

Alex Montel

They were running around like headless chickens.

He was amused that just a few words from him would cause so much chaos. He should have shouted more words at that news crew. Americans. They were so easily rattled.

His smile slipped when a new group of police officers came in. Even the prisoners in the holding cells further down the hall lowered their voices. These were different. He noted their gear, tactical vests, helmets, and the rifles carried with familiarity and ease. Leading this group was a bald black man whose face instantly told him he was a killer.

He instantly knew who they were. They were perhaps the most famous civilian law enforcement unit in the world, even surpassing some other military special forces in training. They had been portrayed multiple times in the old American TV shows he used to watch, and he recently watched their operation against those airplane hijackers that even reached France’s media networks. They were SWAT.

“You’re coming with us.” The leader of the group held up a ballistic vest while another member of their squad moved behind him to probably help secure the vest around his torso. As his cuffs were being removed, he slammed the back of his head into the officer behind him. He heard a grunt of pain, and then suddenly cursed as his knees slammed into the hard floor.

“Merde!” He cursed. The officer behind him, in retaliation, had placed his hands on his shoulder and forcibly made him kneel on the hard floor with incredible force.

“Cute. You okay, Routh?” The leader asked.

“Just peachy.” The large man behind him replied. He glared up at the officer and noted how big he was. Hazel eyes stared back at him without flinching at all.

“When this is over, I’m going to skin you alive.” He spoke in his native tongue.

“Try me. I’ll probably break your legs before this day ends.” He was surprised when this Routh replied in French.

“What did he say?” He heard one of the officers ask.

“He was trying to act tough.” Routh answered and patted him on the head like some dog. “I told him I’ll respond in kind.”

 That was not their conversation, and he gave a wary look at the intimidating cop looming over him. Perhaps he acted too rashly. No, he would be patient and make a move when the time came. His uncle was still loyal to him, and he knew the man would launch a rescue operation before he could be transferred to a federal facility.

His knees still hurt when they forced him to climb the stairs to the helipad, but that was all worth it when he watched the helicopter suddenly lose control and crash. That was an amazing shot, and he looked around, trying to see who was trying to help him. Perhaps he could shout a message, but Routh had already pulled him back inside the stairwell.

He was given some food and drink, but there was always a SWAT officer who guarded him outside his temporary cell. A few hours later, he was led to the basement and passed through a series of tunnels until they reached what appeared to be a parking building. His knees ached when he walked, but his escort didn’t care about his comfort and nudged him forward whenever he slowed down. Barbarians.

 The SWAT officers from earlier remained close to him, and he was led to a waiting SUV. The squad leader and Routh remained with him, along with two more officers. Strange, he had expected to be led to the armored transport truck. Those were quite spacious and had good AC. Here, he was sandwiched between two burly men.

“Hiding in plain sight?” He noted.

“You’ve caused enough trouble for this city.” The leader replied.

They were vigilant. He noted the way they kept their eyes on him at all times, hands close to their weapons as they left the building. Outside, he squinted as the California sun’s bright glare pierced through the tint from the sunroof. He looked around and realized there was only one unmarked car that acted as their escort.

“How are you over there, Yamada?” He watched as the leader got on his radio and listened in.

“Nothing so far, Hondo.” The voice on the radio replied. Now he had a name for the leader.

“Howard, what’s your status?” Hondo switched to another channel.

“All clear here, Hondo.”

The leader then checked in on another person, and he began to piece things up. They must have deployed three convoys, visible with escorts. It was an enticing target for anyone.

“Contact! Contact!” The third person Hondo contacted cried out. “Shots fired! Jesus Christ!”

The radio cut off immediately, and in the SUV, the silence was deafening.

“American greed.” He spoke up, breaking the silence. He immediately felt the glares, but he didn’t care.

“Shut up.” The officer sitting at the front on the passenger’s side turned and glared at him.

“So reliable.” He smiled. At least this one was more amusing to talk to, unlike Routh.

“Shut up!” The officer repeated. “Fellow officers are in danger because you shot your mouth off. Some could even be dead.”

“Street.” Hondo leaned forward and tapped the angry officer on the shoulder. Street, what a strange name for a police officer

“That’s how I like cops, dead.” He sneered.

“I like my criminals broken.” Routh joined in and casually slapped a large hand on his left knee, causing him to hiss in pain. Seriously, as soon as he was free, he’d have this brute killed.

“I’ll have you dismembered while you’re still alive.” He spoke in Russian this time.

“You’ll soon be in federal prison. Little guy like you with a French accent? You’d be currency in there.” Routh replied back in Russian. Seriously, who was this guy? He couldn’t identify any features, since Routh wore a black mask that only showed his eyes. His French was fluent, and he had to admit the man’s Russian was better than his.

Was Routh inserted by his own government just to secure him? Was he part of the Commando d'Action Sous-Marine? GIGN?

“He’s still trying to act smart.” Routh explained to the others.

“Didn’t know you could speak that many languages.” Hondo observed.

“It didn’t come up.” Routh answered.

He needed to be more careful. It was clear that this city sent its best cops to guard him. He was suddenly worried that no one would be able to free him, and they were nearly halfway out of the city.

Kenneth YamadaThe convoy of 5 shops and an armored prisoner transport truck left Central. Around him, his men kept their guard, knowing full well they could be shot at any moment.

“Steady, boys.” He called out. “We’re approaching the most likely ambush spot.”

His timing couldn’t be more perfect. As soon as he finished speaking, their lead car was rammed by an 18-wheeler that came out from an alley.

“We’re under attack!” He shouted. “Move!”

Their rear car was T-boned by another truck. He looked around as gunmen appeared on the rooftops of the surrounding buildings. His men responded quickly and responded with their own weapons.

“This is Convoy one!” He called on his radio. “We’re trapped and need reinforcements!”

He looked around and spotted a laundry shop. “Ram to that shop! We need better cover!”

They were the decoy, and they were supposed to attract those dumb enough to believe they would really get that reward from Montel. He just didn’t expect their plan to be this methodical.

His driver listened and crashed into the laundry shop, and the two remaining vehicles followed suit. He was thinking of his men in the chase and lead car, he needed to see if they were okay.

“Secure this position.” He barked. Bullets were still raining down on them. He flinched when a large explosion erupted behind the cars, just outside the laundromat.

“What was that?” He asked.

“Grenades! They’re throwing grenades, sergeant!” One of his men warned.

“Pull back!” He ordered. “What’s the ETA of our reinforcements?”

“Sergeant Howard’s Convoy got attacked.” His second in command reported. “Sergeant Pearson is also trapped and requesting immediate assistance!”

He cursed under his breath. He needed to act, fast. He looked around, and noted the injuries his men had suffered. They were lucky, a few had been shot, but the additional plate they added inside their ballistic vests worked, though he could tell a few had broken ribs with the way they were standing.

“Find an exit out of this building.” He ordered. “We need to get out of this death trap and circle around and check the status of the two vehicles and our men inside them. We’re on our own for the time being, boys.”

He received grim nods in turn. They didn’t expect the sheer number of men that attacked their convoy.  This situation had snafued so quickly.

Ralf Howard

He wheezed whenever he moved, and it was getting harder to breathe. He was pretty sure he had a few ribs broken, but he’d rather have that than have his insides turned into goo. The bastards didn’t use handguns, but higher caliber weaponry.

“They’re falling back!”

The neighborhood had turned into a warzone, but their four-vehicle convoy had survived the ambush. It cost them though, and a few of his men were shot. They were given first aid and their wounds patched, but he needed to get them to a hospital soon.

“Get us to the hospital!” His men’s lives were the first priority.

The ambush nearly worked, but the driver of the armored transport car used his vehicle to ram the SUVs blocking their path. He was not surprised that the gunmen were reluctant to shoot at the transport truck, and they used it as their lead vehicle, turning it into a makeshift battering ram against the obstacles the ambushers placed before them.

There was going to be hell to pay when this was over, and he wanted to make sure those assholes paid the price.

“Sir! Convoy three is pinned down!” His man working the radio reported. “They turned into a dead end and are trapped!”

It felt like the whole city had risen up against them. It was a surreal feeling, seeing law and order totally breaking down. “Reinforcements?”

“They’re trying to reach them, but there’s a large group of armed men holed up in several buildings.” His radio guy suddenly cursed. “Sergeant Farrows is dead. Shot in the head. They’re reporting several wounded too, and that they need urgent medical attention.”

Shit. Farrows was dead, and that meant he had to be the one to tell his wife and kids. “Tell Spears to split up and head to the nearest hospital with our wounded. We’re going in to help.”

“Sir?”

“We’ll use the armored truck.” He replied. “Those boys and girls need our help, and Farrows would have done the same thing if the roles were reversed.”

“Yes, Sergeant!” His second nodded and started relaying orders once more. They were no longer being chased by those crazy gunmen in dirt bikes, and he could only hope they would get there in time.

Zoe Andersen Routh

She listened in on the emergency command frequency with Grey sitting in her couch. Mid-Wilshire had an increased tick of violent crimes being reported, and she made sure to send out all of her officers, even those who worked the desks out in the streets. They needed to be visible and serve as a strong deterrence for the general public.

“This is getting bad.” Grey noted after they listened in on the conversation between the chief and the responding captains. Jessica Cortez’s voice was strained, and she felt pity for her counterpart in Rampart as the new chief tried to shift the blame.

She nodded at Grey’s statement. “Our fellow officers are already dying out there, and their bodies are not even cold, and she’s already started the blame game.”

“Those gangs must have banded up together to be able to field so many combatants.” Grey observed. “How’s Hondo’s squad?”

“Still maintaining radio silence.” She replied. Jack told her he would be unable to message her for the entire duration of their mission due to operational security. She had to give it to Hondo, springing up a backup plan at the last minute meant they were able to avoid what was happening to the other three convoys.

It was a risky, but bold move. They basically had no escort as they escorted the most wanted man in the world to federal prison.

“No, the HRT is not needed at this time. Thank you for offering your assistance.”

Fuck. Garza was telling Susan Coleman that their famous tactical unit could step in at any given time, and the chief rejected it.

“I’ll accept the offer.” Jessica Cortez’s voice came through the speaker. “Please, send out your men to aid Sergeant Farrow’s group. They’re in desperate need of assistance.”

Hell yeah. She promised that she’d give Jessica a few bottles of her favorite champagne the next time she saw her. That took guts, and it looked like the chief wasn’t happy.

“We have no time to keep playing politics or keeping up appearances, Chief.” Cortez snapped. She wished she were there in that conference room in person. She’d pay a thousand dollars just to see the look on Coleman’s face right now. “Remember, it was your plan to bring Montel to central instead of shipping him directly to a federal prison from the terminal. Lives are on the line.”

“How dare you…”

She wanted to pump her fist in celebration, but Wade had done it for her already. Jessica would probably have to retire after this. Incompetent or not, she had just publicly humiliated the current chief of police in front of her peers and captains like her listening in through a secure communications channel.

Garza’s voice came back, speaking as if Coleman wasn’t making strange noises from her throat as she processed what Jessica stated.

“I’ll inform their commander.” The FBI agent promised.

“There’s a problem with Hondo’s convoy!” She heard a new voice speak up. It sounded breathless and strained as if the voice it came from had just run a hundred yards at full speed.

“What is it?” Coleman asked.

“They never reached the pre-planned third checkpoint.”

She immediately sat up. Jack was in danger.

Daniel “Hondo” Harrelson

The impact came out of nowhere. He couldn’t move and felt their vehicle spin and then suddenly stop as he felt the chassis hit something solid.

The window beside him shattered, and he only had a glimpse before a flash of light and a disorienting sound messed with his senses.

He coughed, moaning, but he couldn’t make sense of anything at all. He heard new voices and ducked instinctively when he heard gunshots.

The door opened, and he felt something move past him along with a rattling of chains.

“Hey..”

“Hondo?”

“Hondo!”

 Somebody was shouting near his ear.

“Fuck!” He opened his eyes and realized everything was still a blur. He tried to stand, but a white hot burst of pain lanced from his arm.

“Don’t move, Hondo.” He heard Routh’s voice. “You got the worst of the stun grenade.”

“Montel?” He asked.

“Gone.” Routh answered. “Jim got wounded, but he knew who hit us.”

“Who?”

“Someone named Gamble. Street said he was a former SWAT.” This time, it was Chris’ voice that he heard. He was already beginning to see shapes and colors, and turned his head to Chris’ voice. Her figure slowly came into focus, and he immediately noticed she was pressing a bandage to Street’s thigh. Jim was gritting his teeth as a bandage was being applied to his leg. Damn.

“You good, Street?”

“Bullet grazed my thigh.” Street hissed as Chris applied disinfectant. “Hurts like a bitch, but I can move.”

He looked around and realized they were on a sidewalk. Their vehicle had been flipped to its side. There was an abandoned tow truck that was pinned to the concrete wall of a building.

“Where’s the chase car?”  He asked.

“They got hit too. “ Jim answered and pointed to the end of the street. He cursed when he saw Viktor and the rest of his men tending to their injuries. It looked like they got shot too, and Tan had a nasty gash on the side of his head, but the man was still treating his fellow officers with first aid.

“Where’s McCabe?” He made a quick count of his squad. They were battered, wounded, but everyone was still alive.

“Hondo, he disappeared with Gamble after the attack.” Street looked pissed. “And they set up jammers somewhere, preventing us from calling for support. I couldn’t get through to dispatch to call for help.”

“They knew our plan. Someone was feeding Gamble our fucking itinerary.” He resisted the urge to punch. They lost Montel.

“Who is Gamble?” Routh asked.

“He’s a former member of this squad.” He replied as he started checking his equipment and gear. “He got kicked out when he mouthed off to the captain after shooting a civilian to get to a gunman. The woman sued, and it cost the department millions in a settlement.”

“Shit.” Chris cursed.

“That’s how crazy Brian Gamble is.” Street added. “He’s an excellent shot, a former Delta force operator before he joined the LAPD.”

He forced himself to stand up amidst Chris’s protest. Viktor came over, but he noticed how the man was unsteady on his feet.

“We’ll live.” Viktor reported without being asked to. “But we need to get to a hospital soon. Henry got a piece of metal stuck to his arm. I don’t want to remove it.”

“And you?” He asked.

“Banged up, probably a concussion,” Viktor replied.

It couldn’t end like this, with fucking betrayal. He never realized Gamble would be willing to do this, and even ask one of his men to betray him. He looked at his remaining men, and they all looked eager for some payback. He heard an airship approaching and realized they needed to move, fast.

“They couldn’t have gone far.” He looked around the area.

“I saw them head to the sewers.” Street shared.

“Then there’s no time to waste.” He answered. “Viktor, stay back and take care of Henry, and have McNelly find a way to call for aid. Fire some flares to get that bird’s attention. That Jammer’s radius couldn’t be that large.”

“On it.”

“The rest of you, we move, now. Routh, take the lead.” His lead scout should be alert, and it looked like Routh and Chris survived with the least amount of injuries. He and Jim followed behind the big guy with Chris protecting their rear.

Jack Routh moved quickly, acting like some experienced scout as he gave hand signals whenever he reached an intersection. The large man kneeled to the ground and found their attacker’s spoor, footprints, disturbed sludge, and trash. He was impressed with Routh’s sharp eyes, and it felt like he was back on patrol with the Marines.

They were moving quickly now, he could feel it. Gamble and Montel must be close by. The anticipation he felt grew and he tightened the grip on his rifle. And T.J. He plucked that cocky asshole from 77th. He trained him, recommended him for Metro and this was how he would repay him? He wanted answers.

He remembered the conversation between Alex Montel and Jim before they got hit. Montel praised American greed. Did he already know about T.J. and Gamble’s plan to bust him out?

He snapped his gaze forward when Routh stopped.

“What is it?” He asked.

“They left phosphorescent paint.” Routh ran one finger on the wall and sniffed it. “They left markers so they won’t get lost down here.”

“Then we’re on the right track.” He was seriously impressed by his scout’s tracking skills. It was another addition to Jack Routh’s list of mysterious skills, and how the fuck did he know them? They moved further along, avoiding trash and debris that ended up inside the sewer tunnels. He saw smoke start to thicken in the tunnel, and he suppressed the urge to cough.

He could see the sewer gate at a distance and was about to take the lead when Routh held out an arm, stopping him from moving.

“Trip wire.” Routh spoke before he could protest.

Alex Montel

The extraction could have gone better.

His knees, already injured thanks to that strange multilingual SWAT officer, flared with pain every time he took a step. The impact from the tow truck banged up his poor knees even worse. His rescuers were already complaining about his pace, but he was confident they wouldn’t leave him. These Americans were crude and barbaric, but at least their audacious plan worked.

The flashbang worked too well. He wanted to at least shoot Routh in the head, but when he regained his senses and recovered, they were already deep in the tunnels. It looked like their leader knew what he was doing, though he still sensed some hesitation from their spy. The rest of the four armed men looked competent enough and didn’t hesitate to follow Gamble’s orders.

“What the fuck?” Their spy complained when Gamble produced a Claymore mine. “This was supposed to be a simple snatch and grab!”

“You know this will only slow them down.”  Gamble expertly set up what looked like a booby trap. He nodded in approval to see his rescuer’s ruthlessness. “Look, I know you’re still pissed, but Henry was a threat, T.J.”

“Henry was my friend.” This T.J. was starting to become a liability.

“He was mine too!” Gamble countered. “But let’s argue about it in paradise, yeah? No more Hondo, nor more ungodly working hours risking your life every day for an ungrateful city.”

“If it's bitches you want in your paradise, I have plenty.” He added, attracting the attention of the two men. They were naïve to think he’d just give them 100 million dollars just like that. He saw their skill, and while he would honor his promise, he’d make sure they would be working for him after this was all said and done. He could use some American recklessness in his organization.

“And stop crying.” He turned to this T.J. What a weird name. “You can buy new friends.”

He squinted when T.J. pointed his rifle with its flashlight on right on his face.

“Don’t give me any more reason to kill you.” T.J. warned him.

What an amateur. That was not how one was supposed to deliver a threat, and this one was soft. The other men didn’t seem to care about this SWAT officer’s actions, but he could see how they moved their fingers to their triggers, ready to stop T.J. from doing anything rash.

“What are you going to do? Shoot me?” He asked, staring at T.J. right in the eye. He could see the doubt and fear in the cop’s eyes.

“You should relax a little bit, my friend.” He continued speaking and started walking once more. “I’m the money here, and don’t you forget it.”

They left the sewer gate, but not before Gamble deployed a smoke grenade near the booby trap. He was starting to like this man. There was already an SUV waiting for them, and as soon as they left, Gamble started to chain up the gate tightly and placed a heavy-duty padlock. He would give this man a bonus when he was free.

“You smell like shit.” The driver waiting for them observed.

“That will be the sewer.” He replied. This one he’d have his tongue cut off.

He sat inside the SUV, enjoying the AC, but wondered why they were not moving. Gamble was staring back at the tunnel with concern etched on his face.

“What is it?” He asked. “I don’t hear anything.”

“And that’s the problem.” Gamble replied. “They must have defused the mine. Let’s move!”

Their convoy of two cars immediately left. He looked ahead and wondered how Gamble and his men would plan to smuggle him out of the country.

Jack Routh

Jim Street quickly disarmed the booby trap, but they encountered another obstacle. It looked like Gamble had locked the gate behind them with thick chains and a padlock. One glance and he knew just shooting the blasted thing wouldn’t work. They’d have to find their way back once more and find another exit. They were so close.

“I got an idea.” Street hurried back to the previously booby trapped junction and came back with the Claymore.

“You’re not seriously considering using an anti-personnel claymore to break that gate open!” Chris looked alarmed.

“We don’t have a choice.” He replied, watching as Jim expertly rigged the device to explode in a set time. They moved back a good distance and watched as their fellow officer ran back to their area. A few seconds later and they were assaulted by the shockwave from the explosion. He peeked around the corner and smiled in relief when he saw that the metal gate was now open, barely hanging on to the frame with one hinge still intact.

Hondo wasted no time and started checking on the radio.

“Dispatch, this is 30-David.”

“This is 70-David. Hondo, where the hell were you?” The Captain sounded annoyed.

“We were chasing the suspects deep in the sewer network.” Hondo responded. “Among the suspects are former SWAT officer Brian Gamble and Officer T.J. McCabe. They ambushed us on route to checkpoint 3. Currently in pursuit of suspects but we have lost visuals.”

“What’s your location?”

“We’re somewhere around sixth and Trenton.” Hondo looked around. “Where’s our back-up?”

“None.” Cortez replied. “There have been reports that the runway lights in Hawthorne airport have been turned on. The chief thinks they’re going there to fly Montel out of our jurisdiction.”

“That’s the other side of town!” Hondo replied. “Send some units to pick us up.”

“I’ll divert some that are en route to Hawthorne.” Cortez answered. “ETA is 25 minutes.”

That was too long.  They ran to the street and attempted to flag down a car. They were outright ignored, and he stepped into traffic and waved his rifle at an approaching limo.

“Police! We’re using your vehicle!” He called out. “This is an emergency!”

The limo driver looked nervous. “They’re just some kids in the back….”

Chris opened the door, and a bunch of teens in tuxedos and dresses stepped out. The limo smelled of weed, and it looked like they were hot boxing.

“Get an Uber.” He told the nervous teens. If he were on patrol on a normal day, he would have taken them to the station.

 They dived into the limousine with Hondo behind the wheel and Street sitting on the passenger side. He spotted some sodas and alcohol drinks and popped open a cold can of Sprite. Chris copied his actions and even handed a few to Hondo and Street at the front.

He sighed in relief. From the moment they were ambushed, he never had the time to sit down and rest, even for a minute. With some time to think, he recalled the events leading to where they were now. Something was not right. It was strange for Gamble to break his pattern from what he observed of their situation.

“This doesn’t add up, Hondo.” He spoke through the narrow privacy partition. “Since our attempt to get Montel to the federal facility with the helicopter, Gamble was always one step ahead of us.”

“You think Hawthorne airport is a diversion?” Street asked.

“That’s right.” He nodded. “This time, we’re alerted to the plan because of some running lights? Securing Hawthorne will take up a good chunk of our units. Gamble has to know that.”

“There’s a full moon tonight.” He glanced at the night sky. “Even a rookie pilot could land in a runway without running lights.”

“Gamble means to fly out Montel.” Street noted.

“He can’t get out of the city.” Hondo mused. “All heliports and airports are being monitored. What’s he planning?”

“What about that?” Chris pointed to a plane with full running lights on descending into the city. “Either they built a new airport downtown, or that plane is descending for a landing.”

“There’s no airport in that area.” Hondo noted.

He opened up his phone and pulled up a map. He looked for any suitable straight lines, but he couldn’t find anything. The streets were all too narrow, short, and uneven for a plane to properly land. He spotted a line and his eyes widened in surprise. No, that was too reckless, but it perfectly fit into Gamble’s history from what he observed.

“The Sixth Street Bridge.” He spoke up. “That’s the only straight, flat piece of road that the plane can land.”

“You've got to be kidding me.” Chris shook her head in disbelief. 

“How wide is the Sixth Street bridge?” Hondo asked.

“Four lanes across, plus sidewalk.” He replied. “A small plane could land there if the pilot is skilled and brave enough.”

“Sounds good to me.” Hondo turned the wheel and sharply turned to a corner. “Chris, tell the captain that Learjet is about to land on the Sixth Street Bridge.”

“On it.”

Jessica Cortez

“Can you repeat that?”

“A plane is descending on the Sixth Street Bridge. We’re on route to intercept.” Chris Alonso reported on the radio.

This brought the people in the command room into silence. She stared at the large display of the city. At Hawthorne airport, most of the reserves were already there, sent by the chief against her advice.

There were no units available, aside from one that she diverted to pick up Hondo and his four men. She noted the radio call sign and smiled.

She saw Susan Coleman slump back in her seat, defeat written all over her face. Even her pet captains were looking at her with concern.

They just had a very public argument, with her stating it was not advisable to send all their reserves not involved in emergency response to Hawthorne Airport, but Coleman was too sure, too eager to redeem her name. She had even insinuated that Hondo and his squad were working with Gamble and wanted the entire team detained and investigated once they got back.

She got on the radio and contacted the unit.

“7-Adam-19, this is 70 David.” She called out.

“7-Adam-19, go ahead.” Tim Bradford’s voice came out of the speaker.

“Reroute to Sixth Street Bridge.” She replied. “20-David is in the area, we believe a jet is about to land there. That is where Alex Montel is planning to make his escape.”

“10-4, 70-David.” Bradford replied.

She noted the map carefully. From Alonzo’s last report, they would arrive at nearly the right time to hit the bridge from the south side, while Bradford would arrive from the north a few minutes later. That was all she got at the moment, as the rest of her metro units were scrambling to get back to Sixth Bridge.

She knew Yamada was bone tired, but she had to admire the man’s resilience to follow her orders after engaging in a running battle with some gangsters who were after Montel all afternoon.

Sergeant Farrows of the third convoy was dead. She would grieve later. The veteran cop mistakenly believed he would be safe sitting inside the armored transport vehicle, but their ambushers had focused on that vehicle and even threw a couple of grenades. Were they trying to save Montel or kill him?

He perished during the hour-long gun battle. This attacking group was the largest, and if it were not for the heroics of the FBI’s HRT and Howard’s courageous charge with his remaining vehicles, she knew that entire team would be wiped out.

She noted that Percy West was already making detailed notes throughout the day. She knew that a damning report would soon arrive that would bury Coleman’s career. Her? She was prepared to resign her post after this. She knew she’d just committed career suicide after getting into a bitch fight with Coleman in front of all the brass.

Maybe she’d copy Zoe and get herself assigned to a more peaceful area like Pasadena after the dust has settled. Her boyfriend certainly spent enough time there, playing with some engineers and their toys.

Alex Montel

“Impressive.” He remarked. The plane that was descending meant his freedom was near, and he would be able to travel in luxury too. He thought Gamble would smuggle him to Mexico in a cramped vehicle, but this was even better!

He couldn’t believe this was happening. His smile grew wider as the plane smoothly landed on the asphalt. He could hear the engines whining as they engaged a reverse thrust to slow down. It looked like it was still traveling too fast, and he could hear the wheels screech as the pilot engaged the brakes. Gradually, it shed speed and finally stopped just a few feet from their parked SUVs.

He couldn’t help it and started clapping and shot Gamble an impressed look. The crazy American did it!

Gamble quickly opened the hatch and climbed in. The passengers on board who must have owned the plane cried out in fear as they protested. The older grey grey-haired man protested, but Gamble merely pulled him off the plane and landed painfully on the asphalt.

The younger blonde wife with the lovely pearls screamed and attempted to follow her husband. “Richard!”

“Richard is gone.” He needed entertainment anyway and wrapped an arm around the woman’s waist and pushed her to the very back of the plane. She was a bit too old for his tastes, but she’d do. Plastic surgery still has it uses.

The rest of Gamble’s men started to disperse, while two more climbed on board with them, as the plane was being turned around.

“Okay, let’s go.” He ordered and clapped his hands once. He was eager to get home.

“We got company!” One of Gamble’s men warned him through the radio. “A limo just broke containment!”

“What do we do?” He asked. Gamble looked too calm for what was happening.

“I’ve got insurance.” Gamble fished out a radio controller with an extendable antenna. “Just keep them coming.”

He moved forward and watched through the cockpit as a gunfight erupted between the men in the two SUVs that blocked the other end of the bridge and a limo that was barreling towards them.

Just before the limo reached the SUVs, Gamble, crouching right beside him, pressed a button. “Boom.”

The two SUVs exploded in a giant fireball, engulfing the limo along with it.

“You crazy bastard.” He let out a chuckle as he spoke in his native language. His laugh died when the limo emerged from the explosion, and it was still headed towards them.

“It’s not over yet.” Gamble cursed and opened the hatch and started firing. He promised never to set foot in this cursed country ever again. Everyone had guns, and they all shrugged off explosions like they were simple fireworks. He just wanted to get out. What was wrong with these people?