“I have a situation. Our next cell phone has just entered the building. Out.” And he hung up on the general.
Four more cold Chinese men found the beer and were momentarily distracted. It took several minutes for them to drink one and open another. Another group of eight joined them, and then another four men came in out of the cold. Two more cases were ripped open and bottles hissed as their tops were twisted.
“Bring six men with silencers forward and place them in positions where they can take them out if need be,” the major ordered his first sergeant in a whisper. He also had an automatic pistol with a silencer and he watched through its night sights as six men crept forward and got into position on the floor in a line where they could hit the men without breaking the large windows around the concourse.
Suddenly the satellite phone rang in his hand. “Shit!” he whispered, trying to find and hit the kill button to turn it off. The men drinking beer immediately shouted to see whose phone it was. Major Patterson immediately whispered to the Chinese-American pilot next to him to answer as if he was drunk. The man did as he was told and several men laughed and hooted from the bar area. He swore, telling them to leave him alone, and told the “person” on the phone to call him later when he woke up, which prompted raucous laughter from the bar crowd.
Three men, laughing, came to find him, and were quickly laid to rest without bullets. One made a grunt as his neck was broken and the men in the bar suddenly went silent. The major prodded the other Chinese pilot and told them to shout at each other and make drunken laughter. They did a good enough job that another two came over to see what all the fun was about. They also didn’t make the party, and this time the two Chinese-American pilots got really rowdy. They started getting angry at each other and swore in rapid Mandarin to each other about being left to sleep. This time the rest at the bar went silent, one drew a pistol, and they all came forward flashing their flashlights into the darkness.
This time, their clothing couldn’t be saved, as the major shot first and the six silencers followed suit firing several shots and killing all ten men without a sound, and with no broken windows. Immediately, the major told the troops behind him to drag the bodies back, far down the concourse, out of the way, clean up any blood, make sure the prisoners were dead and strip any clothing off that did not have blood on it. This was completed in seconds with the men still wearing night goggles.
Major Patterson immediately sent two men to cover the door to the outside to watch for any more Chinese and he sent another two men to set up the bar tables again with fresh bottles, just in case.
Within three minutes the concourse was quiet, with the bar area looking like a lot of drinking had occurred, and with the odd jacket and hat lying around.
“Allen Key,” he spoke into another, new phone and waited for a response from the general.
“Busy night Patterson?” the general asked.
“Busy bar night Allen Key, just like any Friday night. All these guys are drinking and we now have 24 of them hidden in the broom closet, all as dead as Do-Dos. They are down to the five guys on the dozers and seven others somewhere playing in the salt pit. We have clothing for 14 and six fancy phones.”
“Don’t answer any cell phone unprepared,” cautioned General Allen. “If the red number comes up when your phone rings, that’s a no-no for at least two more days. You will see the number on the phone. Turn off all phones, and if the red number crops up and if you need to say hi to Uncle Charlie, use a guy who can talk the lingo. Get my drift?”
“Roger that, Allen Key.”
“And this is your number from now on, Patterson. Let me know how your plans go tomorrow. Tell me immediately what comes in. You will have to play this drama out on the spur of the moment. Hopefully I can hand you an Oscar when we meet. Mr. McGuire will have the four choppers full and three big 130 mama’s ready to take off by dawn. As soon as you have pilots aboard the aircraft and they are about to take-off, tell me and Mr. McGuire and he will release the hounds into the attack. They will take 20 minutes to get there and will be below 500 feet to stay out of any aircraft radar contact. That’s 300 guys and what you have there to terminate the guests. Call me when you are about to attack—a buddy of mine believes that he can jam all their communications for awhile. Well done, Patterson, and good luck. Your plan sounds positive, and we want those big aircraft undamaged. Out.”
Major Patterson got back on the radio to all his men and explained the plan to them.
“Team Four,” he stated to the 40 men based in one of the outside aircraft, the M-90. “Go through your exit in the bottom of your aircraft and find the salt pit. There are seven or more Charlies working with a truck. Try and take them out without bloodshed. We need their clothes and cell phones. I say again, we need undamaged cell phones and clothing. Use silencers.”
“Roger that. On our way,” the commander of Team Four replied.
“Team Two in the commuter jet,” Patterson continued. “I believe they will park the dozers close to the area where they want the aircraft to land and refuel. It looks like two aircraft will be incoming. Once the dozers are back from the runway, take the drivers out and we should be clear of bad boys until the next lot comes in.”
“Roger. We are getting on white gear and heading out. What about the line of vehicles? Shall we leave them alone? Over.” The commander of Team Two needed to cover all the bases.
“Take the keys out of the ignition and put them under the seat of the front passenger, not the driver’s seats. Confirm!”
“Copy that, the left passenger seats,” the commander replied, and within five minutes Major Patterson could see dim white shapes leave the express jet and crawl over to the large mounds of snow between the arrival area and the runway.
It was a clear sparkling night, and it took three more hours before the dozers returned, parked, and the tired drivers were relieved of their lives, cell phones, and clothing. The salt team had also been terminated and the airport was finally clear of unfriendly visitors. It was time to get into action. The Chinese pilots were given two of the captured radios and the vehicles were inspected and relieved of two more radios and a lot of ammunition. The major worked out that the incoming aircraft would need to use the radios to ask for landing instructions and he prepared his Chinese guys, both C-17 pilots to call the shots.
It was midnight by the time they were finished. The terminal was cleaned and the pile of dead bodies was moved to another stranded aircraft, the blood and remains cleared away and the bar made to look like a party had taken place. The major’s men opened the clothing store and pulled several tables into the hallway, piling all the expensive coats, hats, and other winter items onto the tables as if the visitors had made a presentation for the incoming dignitaries.
He and his men also piled up a mountain of chairs and tables in front of where they had set up base as a wall against any incoming fire. He did the same on the other side of the bar area and called in the squad from the M-90. Patterson placed 30 of the soldiers on the other side of the mountain of furniture with sniper rifles, automatic rifles, and grenades. They were hidden behind the large assortment of steel and wooden furniture 50 yards from the bar area. The Major wanted to have 60 of his troops inside the terminal on both sides of the entrance door and an attack zone 100 yards wide.