The Red Cell André Gallo (essential reading .txt) 📖

it inside a four-inch copper tube, which he attached to the inside of the truck. He lit the three-minute fuse then went over the side. Gardiner watched the sparks move toward the truck with dread.

 0610

“Holy hell! Did you guys see that?” a young man stepping out of a pickup truck said, as he and others, crouching between cars, approached the Raider who had backed up to the railing.

Gardiner, weakening and practically hypnotized, watched the sparks consume the cord and advance under the truck.

One of the men hiding behind the cars suddenly spurted ahead toward the Raider who shot him as he jumped over the truck ramp. The sound had not yet completely dissipated when it was replaced by a shout, “Now! Go, go, go, go!” At least a dozen men jumped out from behind the cars and charged. The Raider got one more shot off before he fell under the bodies of his attackers.

At the same, Gardiner saw two men, semi-automatic rifles hanging from their shoulders, jump off their bicycles.

Gardiner, seeing the Raider go down, started crawling toward the truck, one hand under his shirt to keep his driving glove over the wound. “Over there, over there!” he said in a weakened voice, pointing toward the live fuse advancing under the truck.

48. Rodeo Beach

Yosemani had seen three of his men rappel down the ropes, followed by another a moment later. He waited for the last man to get off the bridge, wondering why the delay. A moment later, he heard more shooting.

Although aware he still had one man on the bridge, he ran to his Hummer, reached to the passenger seat to an open attaché case, uncovered a red button protected by a plastic safety cover, and pressed it. He knew the remote trigger probably wouldn’t function because of the jamming, but he had to give it one try. Nothing happened. He even looked at the bridge through his binoculars for a second, still waiting for an explosion. “Dammit,” he said. Then he started the Hummer, backed out of the parking lot, and began the exfiltration phase.

***

“We’ve taken care of the problem,” McCabe told Steve over the transceiver. “We’ve got the mother of all car bombs here. Hunter defused it, though you never can tell. These guys know all about booby traps and delayed explosions. We’re trying to get these commuters off the bridge, but we’re not traffic cops.”

“Do what you can,” Steve said. “I’m not turning off the jammer until we’ve got the general and his remote triggering system. That’s what we’re doing now. Out.”

“The Hummer’s on the move,” Al said.

As Kella jumped out of the SUV, Steve held her back and handed her a Kevlar vest. “This time we’re going to get him. Don’t take stupid risks,” he said as he kissed her. “I’ll take the SUV.” Her long black curls swirling around the top of her vest, she mounted her bike. Steve got into the second SUV and followed her out of the parking lot. They turned left toward the overlook and stepped on the gas. In less than a mile, headlights came at them as if pursued by demons. They closed and passed each other within seconds. On her bike, Kella made a 180 and sped away, while Steve was still turning the SUV around.

Kella lost the Hummer’s rear lights around a turn as she flashed by the Rodeo Beach sign they had seen the day they had driven to the Nike site. Another three quarters of a mile farther, with Steve’s headlights in her rearview mirror, she noticed another sign that brought her to a sliding halt. She turned her bike onto a dirt path going down toward the beach. Steve roared by in the SUV, staying on the road behind the Hummer.

Kella had to slow down as she negotiated wide-paced steps, eventually winding up on a small parking lot with pedestrian-only access to the beach. She shut off the bike motor to listen.

***

Kazemi piloted his boat due west, away from the bridge and toward the Soledad. His four passengers stayed below deck, while he hoped the Coast Guard vessels were not out so early in the morning. Now comes the hard part, he thought. Navigating through the fog using charts and the boat’s depth finder. The sun was up, and daylight was breaking, but with the fog it didn’t help.

Worse, what should have been a black exfiltration had become a well-witnessed spectacle, including the loss of one of the team. How long would it take for the Coast Guard to come after them? They had all heard the shooting and been forced to leave the Raider behind. They were all confident the Raider, if he was still alive, would not reveal the escape plan, at least not until they were safely aboard the Soledad. But their greatest advantages—surprise, stealth, and deception—were long gone. The SWAT teams that had been lured to the airport by the public statements orchestrated by the general had probably been called off.

Kazemi examined his charts again. Instead of skirting the coves and inlets of the coast, he would avoid the rocks and take the safer route: first west, then north, and then east to the beach. He preferred to deal with visible dangers than underwater hazards.

Failing to reach the general on his cell to inform him that four of the five team members were safely on his boat, he had not been in communication with him since the night before. He could only assume the general was alive and on his way to the beach. But what if the FBI or the CIA had captured him?

Perhaps he should go straight to the Soledad.

***

The general had seen the motorcycle and the SUV turn around near the overlook to move in his direction. What would these people be doing in this area at this time of the morning?