“You’ll be standing in line,” Colt replied, his jaw clenched, a look of fury in his eyes. “Dallas was a good man. There’ll be a reckoning,” he said solemnly, referring to their fallen team member as if he were already dead.
“Ya tellin’ me,” Kilmer agreed. “Just now…let’s git the cargo out o’ here. If we’re lucky, he’ll live ‘til we find a doc.”
Conditions were even more hectic at the surface. Stark had rejoined Tooz and the two of them hurried toward the Humvee. Krilenko, Ventura, and Nuzam were likewise retreating to the rendezvous point but were caught in a furious gun battle with a dozen guards firing automatic weapons. The team was out-manned and out-gunned.
Krilenko had taken a round in the upper thigh and was being dragged, limping on one leg, to the Humvee by Ventura. Nuzam was left to cover their flank and was doing his best to stave off the onslaught. Everything he had feared about breaching this compound was coming true. The unresolved intel on the number and strength of the counter-forces had caused several injuries; it sounded like Weaver was terminally injured, Krilenko was wounded, and they were still on the property. The likelihood of getting out with their skins, let alone the cargo, seemed remote.
“Colt, what’s your location?” Nuzam shouted as they approached the Humvee to find it standing unoccupied. “We don’t have much time. Guards are bearing down on this location. We’ve only got a few seconds left here, guys.”
“Colt’s with me,” Rafie,” Kilmer replied. “He’s got Dallas and I’ve got the cargo…we’re off in two minutes.”
“We don’t have two minutes,” Nuzam urgently shouted. “There’s a shitload of guards out front. We can’t hold them off that long. We need you and Colt up here now!” he yelled. “Fuck the cargo!”
Nuzam and Ventura loaded Krilenko into the Humvee and were awaiting Starkovich and Metusack. Guards were raining bullets from automatic weapons down on the Hummer. The men inside were completely protected, but couldn’t return fire without opening the doors. In any case, they would be vulnerable when the doors were opened to admit the rest of the team. Their situation looked bleak.
“Can it; we ain’t squibin’ out,” Kilmer replied, shocked that Rafie would dare suggest they abandon the plan at this juncture. Clearly, the op was in chaos, but this was exactly what these men had trained for. “We’re at the lift…give us cover. And we’re haulin’ the cargo. Out!”
“Team Leader, Tooz…Stark’s with me. We’ll provide cover while you get Dallas squared away and load the cargo. Leave us if necessary…we’ll take a van out o’ here. Do what you gotta do, Boss…”
Typical of Tooz, Kilmer thought. Bravo! He never thinks of himself, just how to get the job done with the least amount of difficulty. Good bloke!
“Yer blood’s worth bottlin’, Tooz, but negative, we leave t’gether. Now lay the lead mates ’cause we’re blowin’ through…”
Stark and Tooz held their positions and began pumping lead at the guards closest to the Humvee. Their night vision was still a huge advantage. The guards were merely aiming in the general location of the black Humvee. They had the advantage of firepower, but without lights their effort was unfocussed and largely ineffective. It was relatively easy for Tooz and Stark to stave off their assault, buying precious time for the men loading into the Humvee.
Rafie opened the rear of the vehicle and helped Kilmer load the container. Meanwhile, Ventura opened the side panel and assisted Colt with Weaver. This done, Colt shut the door and climbed into the driver’s seat. He fired up the Humvee and jammed it into reverse, speeding backward toward the guards, who were again bringing heavy gunfire.
“Tooz, where are you, man?” he asked, trying to close the distance between their location and the vehicle.
“Stop now or you’ll pass us,” Tooz yelled back.
Both he and Stark bolted from their secure locations, exposing themselves to the guards, who could now see the Humvee more clearly with the headlights. They made a mad dash toward the open side-door that Colt had correctly positioned on the opposite side of the gunfire. They dove into the opening, which Rafie promptly shut behind them.
“Hit it, Colt!” Kilmer yelled. “Git us the hell out o’ here!”
Colt stomped down on the accelerator and the Humvee sped away, leaving a wake of dead guards and destruction as they disappeared from the scene.
“Tooz, have a gander at Dallas. What can ya do for ‘im?” Kilmer asked as they both converged on him at once.
“Nothing,” Tooz replied, his face stone-cold as he pressed his ear against Weaver’s chest, unable to check for a pulse from the carotid artery. “No heartbeat, Boss…we’ve lost him.”
“Shit! Bugger me…” Kilmer said, slamming his fist on the roof of the Humvee. “Good oh…check on Ivan,” he said next, more upset than he wanted to let on. Weaver wasn’t just a valuable team member, but one he considered a friend. Colt was dead-on accurate. There was going to be a reckoning for his death.
“I’ll be okay,” Ivan said, as Tooz began inspecting his leg wound.
“Looks like the femur’s broken, but the blood flow’s manageable. I can get him stabilized at the warehouse, but he’ll need a doctor,” Tooz replied.
Colt was speeding away from the Lawrence Livermore Lab and bearing down on the location of the Peterbilt tractor-trailer he left parked about three miles away. So far, there was no response from the local police, but he knew there was only a limited time before they would respond to the 911 call for backup. He brought the Humvee to a skidding halt as Kilmer and Rafie jumped out to open the doors of the semi-trailer and extract the ramps. Meanwhile, Tooz, Ventura, and Stark leaped out and headed to the SUV that was also parked on the street. The ramps extended, Colt guided the Humvee into the back of the trailer.
“You gonna be okay in here for awhile?” he asked, turning to face Ivan as he stepped out of the Humvee. “I hate to leave you with Dallas, but we’ve got to get our asses movin’.”
“No problem,” Ivan replied, his jaw set, a resolute look on his angular face. “I’ll keep him company. Dallas shouldn’t be back here alone.”
“Good man,” Colt replied. “Sit tight…we’ll be at the warehouse in a jiffy.”
“We’re back on plan,” Kilmer said, as Colt exited the semi-trailer and they closed and bolted the doors. “Rafie, we’ll square up later, as planned. Ya follow?”
“Sure thing; we’ve got a lot to discuss,” he said, facing Kilmer with a scowl. There was no mistaking the unspoken meaning behind his comment. Rafie would hold him accountable for an op he warned was folly from the start.
Kilmer jumped into the tractor-trailer and looked at Colt, who coaxed the semi away from the curb. Neither of the men said another word. There was nothing to be said. They heard the far-off sound of sirens wailing in the distance, disturbing the peaceful night air, and knew that police vehicles were bearing down quickly on the Lawrence Livermore Lab. The mission was successful, considering they had extracted the atomic fuel Holloway commissioned them to procure, but it was also an abject failure from the standpoint that they had lost a valuable member of their team. Indeed, Dallas Weaver was an integral and irreplaceable member. There was none other like him.
The two men sat in silence, stone-faced, their hearts heavy, and gripped with the terrible realization of what their success had cost them.
THIRTY
Stanford University
The private investigator following Jeremiah Marshall to Stanford University was disturbed when his subject disappeared inside the home on Lomita Lane. He crept slowly closer to the house, hoping for a better look at what might be happening inside. The blinds were partially drawn, but he could just make out his two subjects conversing with another man in the center of the room. Whatever they were discussing, the young man was quite animated, wildly flailing his arms as he presumably explained the reason behind the unexpected late-night visit.