“It is,” Brian responded. “Other than speaking with you, sir.”
“Perfect,” Michael said. “I’ll sign you out a Remington MSR and call Rodman’s Neck and make the arrangements. How many rounds of ammo would you like?”
“A couple of boxes should be enough. Can you also give me a couple of boxes of nine-millimeter for my Sig Sauer, so I can use one of the pistol ranges as well?”
“Not a problem,” Michael answered. “But I’ll give you three boxes for the MSR just to be sure. You can bring back what you don’t use. Is there anything else you wanted to do here this afternoon besides the TAC House?”
“Yes, I’d like to meet up with Detective Jose Garcia. I assume he’s still the SCUBA instructor.”
“Oh, yes!” Michael confirmed. “He’s not going anywhere. He’s here for life.”
Jose Garcia had been one of his favorite instructors. Jose had managed to turn the required SCUBA training Brian had to undergo from a dreaded experience into a joy. Although he was still certified, he hadn’t made a refresher SCUBA dive in well over a year. Prior to his ESU training, Brian had never been that comfortable in the water. He’d always joked that it had taken life millions of years to get out of the water, and he didn’t see any reason to reverse the trend. Now he loved it.
“Could you let him know I’ll be stopping by after my session at the TAC House? I’d like him to pick me out some equipment so that I can do a recertification dive in the next couple of days.”
“You got it,” Michael said. “And when you are done with your rounds, stop back here. I’ll have one of the Remington MSRs and the ammo available.”
“Thank you, sir,” he said. “I really appreciate your help and support.” Being back at his former stomping grounds and with his former colleagues, he was already feeling more secure about the future.
Chapter 32
September 2
Just to the north of the ESU admin building was another sizable, nondescript commercial structure that looked equally as aged and dilapidated as the others. This building contained the TAC House, or Training Ammunition Combat edifice. As Brian approached, he again had to smile. On this occasion it wasn’t because of its run-down appearance. It was because from the outside there was no hint whatsoever of what was inside.
Brian pushed through a battered outside door and stepped into a simulated night scene. What confronted him in the expansive, darkened, several-story interior was a worse-for-wear modular structure the size of a modest one-story house. It had no ceiling and could be configured in various ways to represent an entire apartment with an outer door, a kitchen, living room, bathrooms, and bedrooms, an office, or any indoor structure. It was used for adaptive urban, non-ballistic assault exercises in various lighting conditions and with various numbers of targets played by instructors positioned inside, sometimes armed with non-lethal weaponry. Several catwalks above were used by the instructors to watch the simulated assaults so they could comment and make recommendations.
In addition to the TAC House structure, Brian was also confronted in the half-light by a group of seven ESU officers heavily armed and outfitted in the usual ESU tactical gear with midnight-black uniforms and bulletproof vests with multiple pockets for gear and ammunition. In addition, they were wearing helmets, gloves, eye protection, and balaclava face masks in anticipation of taking part in the next drill. Although Brian had no chance of identifying anyone in face masks and dim light, most of the officers recognized him and immediately crowded around to say hello and extend their sympathies about Emma’s passing. One officer, Carlos Morales, who was a member of the A team and who Brian knew well, said he’d heard a rumor that Brian might be rejoining the ESU. All of them cheered as a group when Brian told them he was giving it serious thought.
“Do it, do it, do it!” rang out as a spontaneous chant from the group. Brian laughed, unsure of how to respond. Finding his voice, he admitted he was leaning toward rejoining but wanted to make sure it was the right decision for his daughter and career.
For Brian this was even more of a homecoming than seeing Helen Gurly in the admin building, and it soothed his soul. It made him remember how much he valued being a member of a group with a common interest, extending all the way back to grammar school when he first began participating in organized sports. Through high school and college, it had been the same, and it had been one of the reasons he’d gravitated toward law enforcement as a career. In many ways he’d not been entirely aware of how much he missed this type of camaraderie since his retirement.
Suddenly the animated conversation was interrupted by someone within the TAC House yelling “Police! Police!” followed by a series of non-lethal rounds being fired, indicating that the simulation drill that was in progress when Brian arrived had terminated in gunplay. The blanks were particularly loud in the confined spaces.
“That’s it, guys,” Carlos called out to the group. “We’re on deck, front and center!” He then picked up a ballistic shield that he had leaning against his leg. He was going to be the lead man on the next assault simulation. Another officer picked up a Blackhawk Halligan bar used to breach the outer door. Every member of the assault group had a specific, planned role to play to maximize safety, which was key if it were a real-life situation.
“Where’s the tactic sergeant?” Brian asked Carlos.
“He’s up on the catwalk,” Carlos said, pointing to the wooden stairs to Brian’s right.
“Good luck,” Brian said, making a halfhearted salute gesture. He then walked to the stairs and started up. At the top Brian could see down into the illuminated mock living room/kitchen below, which was empty for the moment. Raising his eyes, he searched the maze-like elevated walkways that created an opportunity for the instructors to closely follow the activity below during a simulated assault. Brian could make out Sergeant Sal Benfatti with two of his instructors at the far end over the bedroom area. The tactic sergeant was leaning over the railing while talking down to the assault team below. Brian assumed he was giving a mixture of both praise and criticism regarding the simulation.
By the time Brian made it over to where the group was standing, Sal had finished his analysis with the group below and was conferring with the two instructors by his side. Below, Brian could see the team that had just completed the drill along with several instructors who had been acting as the bad guys. Brian had the sense the drill had been a mock-up hostage situation.
“Ah, Brian Murphy,” Sal said welcomingly, seeing Brian approach. They knew each other well, not only from Brian’s cadet days, but also because Brian had frequently helped out and participated in TAC House activities. Sal introduced Brian to his two instructors, who’d come on board since Brian’s retirement.
As expected, Brian initially had to weather a brief conversation with Sal about Emma, but they soon turned to discussing why Brian was there; namely, to participate in a number of assault simulations. “I hope you weren’t counting on starting today,” Sal said. “This next drill is our last.”
“That’s fine,” Brian said. “With your permission, I’d like to come back in the next couple of days.”
“Terrific! We’ll look forward to it. We’d love to have you. Do you want to stay and watch the next drill with us?”
“Absolutely,” Brian answered.
The group moved from over the bedroom area to over the living room/kitchen. On this occasion there were to be two armed suspects, one in the kitchen area behind an island and the other in the living room sitting on the couch. When all was ready, Sal initiated the assault with a remote device. In the next second the front door was quickly breached with the Halligan bar, and Carlos swooped into the room with his ballistic shield followed closely by his team, all yelling “Police! Police!” at the top of their lungs while executing a predetermined set of movements.