"We can't count on that." But Volont was coming around.
"I think we can," said George. "He's not bluffing. But he'll sink her slowly, because he has to. I mean, fifteen minutes, even… right? Getaway time…"
"That's what I think," I said. "And with them tied up at the pier for the winter months, all they have to do is walk off. What I'm saying is that I think it's a risk we might be able to take. With the shock effect of taking out the trucks as they leave the bank."
"Well, we better hurry," said Hester, "whatever we do. I do know that those little bastards are about as busy as they can get, moving that money into the trucks. We aren't going to have much more time, and we need the fog on our side for a while. I don't know how long that stuff will last."
Sally informed us that the chopper with the TAG team would be above Frieberg in two minutes. They reported zero visibility really near us, but could land on the bridge deck, which was above the fog ceiling.
Volont had been getting hold of himself gradually, since Gabriel's first call. He began to speak with his old decisiveness.
"Have them set down on the bridge." He indicated the playground that had been built for the kids who came with the gamblers. Summer only. "A two-man sniper team to the bridge ramp where they can command the best exit from the bank. Four to the boat. Have Alpha Chase pick ' em up. Leave the rest with the chopper." He smiled. "Wouldn't want anybody to steal our Huey."
"I think they might be done at the boat," said Hester. "We're gonna need a decision pretty soon…"
I really thought that Volont was ready to take out the trucks. I really did. And he might have, if Gabriel hadn't had another little surprise for us.
25
"They're pullin' their ramp away from the boat," said Hester. "I counted seven suspects coming off with the last load. They're all getting in the van."
Suddenly, there was a loud, double-cracking sound. It was accompanied by what looked to be a momentary ripple in the fog all around the General Beauregard. Weird sight.
"Jesus!" said Art. "They're sinking it!"
"No… no… no, they're not! Not yet, anyway." Hester pointed, but I couldn't make out what she was looking at. Not at first. But, then, as I watched, I could see the bow of the Beauregard slowly pull away from the pier, as the boat herself slipped slightly sternward, with the current. They had blown off the bollards and cleats from both ends of the boat. The thick cables attaching her to the pier, with no grip on the boat, slowly slid off her open weather decks and dropped into the icy waters of the Mississippi.
"Where can she go?" I asked.
James watched, horrified. "There's sort of an ice-free area around the hull… warm water from bilge pumps, stuff like that. She can go a ways out into the water, but she'll hit the ice in a little ways, and stop, I think…"
As he spoke, the stern of the General Beauregard disappeared into the fog, while she came around by the bow. She stopped, her bow about 100 feet from the riverbank, and about 90 feet from the pier. Out of reach. No engines to propel her.
Art said something that, in other circumstances, would have had me rolling on the floor. "That rotten bastard really does think of everything."
"It's time to do something," said Volont. "We can't let him call all the shots…" He moved Sally aside, and picked up her mike. "Alpha Mobile, get down to the intersection and block off the street before the bank. Alpha Chase, do the same on the cross street and keep that stretch van where it is." He fumbled for a second. "How the hell do I talk to the fire trucks on this thing?"
Sally pressed one of the frequency keys.
"Fire units, bring a truck into the exit from the bank parking lot and stay there. Use any auxiliary light you have to shine on the building, Bring a truck to the boat landing, to the dock, and park there and try to keep the public away. Shine your floodlights toward the boat." He looked at Sally again. "Now the police cars?"
She pushed another button.
"We need some units to block the bridge approach, some to surround the bank." He took a deep breath. "We need three or four squad cars to block the road north and south of Frieberg. And Twenty-nine, Twenty-nine, you go to the bank and provide support for the fire truck."
That was good. That was very good. The north-south road through town was bordered by bluffs for two or three miles each way. No side roads. No turnoff except to a vacant summer dock area to the south. No way to go around a roadblock.
And 29 now had something useful to do.
Actually, it looked like it was just a matter of whether or not the cop cars could get here before the bank trucks were ready to pull out with all the money.
I watched Volont give Sally back her microphone. "Try for some ETAs for us, see when the cavalry is going to get here," I said. "And make sure Conception County has the other end of the bridge blocked."
Her answer told me she was still in top form. "Get me some coffee, would ya?"
I did.
What was happening now was that Gabriel's little army was actually being shown the opposition for the first time. We should begin to find out what they were made of real soon. I was betting on jelly, at least for the majority.
The growl of an engine, and the sound of the chopper blades as the Huey settled down on the bridge deck was a nice effect. We couldn't see them, of course. Neither could Gabriel and his people. But the noise was unmistakable.
None of us could see anything moving or changing at the bank, but at the boat, the headlights of the stretch van moved slowly up from the dock. Apparently, they saw the fire truck and the two TAC team agents from Alpha Chase blocking the road and the agents taking cover with their M-16s. The stretch van simply stopped. They didn't appear to have taken this development into consideration. Just what we intended, and just as I thought. Amateurs. Finally, I thought, things are beginning to move in a direction we've chosen.
Volont spoke into his secure radio. "This is Volont. If the van advances, you are authorized to use deadly force to prevent its leaving."
The van promptly backed up.
"What the hell…" was Hester's first reaction.
"I'll be a son of a bitch," said George.
Art comprehended last. "They can hear us!"
Not only hear, but understand. They'd cracked the scrambled code of the secure radios.
"Well, now we know what they really needed all the computers for," I said. Another fucking surprise. Did his own download from the code banks. Slick. "Where did the FBI get those secure radios?"
"GSA, I suppose," said George. "Where the government shops…"
"From the Army," said Volont. "Via the NSA development people. Damn."
Gabriel, as an Army Special Operations soldier, quite likely was familiar with those radios before the FBI even purchased them. Even I knew that much.
"We'd better let the troops know," said George.
"Wait a second. If he doesn't know we know…" Volont was up to his old tricks.
"No." George glared at him. "No games. He's smart, and he knows. We have to tell our own people."
Volont came up with the ultimate leader's cop-out. "Then you tell them."
George knew it. Hell, George was an MBA. George had had all the "corporate think and manipulate" classes you could name.
He reached in his jacket and pulled out his walkie. "CP to all units. The security on this frequency has been compromised. Repeat, this is no longer a secure frequency." He replaced his walkie-talkie, and looked out the window toward the boat. "There."