Chapter 11

Josh took the time, before heading back to Tobe's shop, to unlock and open a hidden tool well under the rear deck of his Custom Suburban. Removal of the three foot square, double-locked lid exposed a large piece of foam rubber padding. The padding was, as it first appeared to be, a section of dimpled foam used by hospitals to prevent sores on bedridden patients, but this was a piece cut to prevent the shifting of the three tool boxes it covered. Each of the three chromatically colored boxes contained a different assortment of tools. The blue, left most, contained screw and nut drivers, as well as numerous sheet metal tools used to repair dents and dings in the body of the truck. The box filling the right side of the well, a bright red, contained a panoply of engine tools and special wrenches to adjust the 12 ton Warne Winch adorning the massive front bumper. It was the middle box, to which Josh put his effort.

Grasping the two recessed handles, near either end of the box lid, he lifted the weighty box from its resting place and set it on the rear wheel well. His hand disappeared deeper into the hidden cache and reappeared with a foot-long piece of oil stained 1x12. He rotated the slab 90 degrees on both long axes and placed it between the two remaining boxes. He repeated this twice more, then replaced the foam pad. Less than a minute after he unlocking the trove, he relocked the double locks, placed the box in the space between the front buckets, and started the big eight cylinder engine.

There were two methods of opening the molded plastic equipment container safely. One was through insertion of knife blades beneath the recessed carrying handles to cut through at precise points along their length. The need for precision was to prevent the breakage of small glass vials containing a 100% concentration of sulfuric acid. If the vials were broken, acid would flow thru vents into the interior of the container where it would make contact with specially prepared trays of phosphorus coated with an airtight plastic. From there, nature would take its course.

The other method of entry was a lot safer, and utilized electromagnets which operated only at a specific voltage. This voltage could be achieved thru the use of batteries connected in parallel, or with the adapter Josh pulled from beneath the driver's bucket seat.

Once opened the case was revealed for what it was, a gun case. Inside were three trays each six inches deep, and filled with a moisture resistant foam into which were cut the outline of the weapon they held. The top tray contained an XM-15, customized to include the receivers for an M-16 combat rifle, and 100 rounds of ammunition in 4 thirty round magazines. The rifle and loaded mags were placed onto the passenger's seat.

The second tray contained a unique pair of handguns, and materials for their operation. The pair had been crafted by George Callicotte for the first place participant in the International Combat Shoot's inaugural year. Though they were not bedecked with gold and silver traceries, they were in fact priceless because of the sheer variety of ammunition they could consume. Built on a modified Baretta frames, they came equipped with sixteen barrels, thirty-two magazines, and six recoil springs to match the types of ammo they could use. Josh lifted the two awesome pieces from their resting place, paused an instant to admire their ambidexterity, and placed them within easy reach in storage slots in the dash. He drew out the extra clips for their current calibers and placed these beneath his right thigh. He replaced the top tray, placed the extra pistol mags on top of the foam liner, checked the loading and action of all of the guns, and then started back to the Meltons.

He had been gone exactly an hour by his Sundial, when he turned into the short drive leading to the old three story house and yard. The sun was just enough lower in the sky to reflect into the windows of the second floor of the clapboard mansion when he opened his car door, and this time there was no one in the house to notice the moving bright spot. He stepped from the car with both hands full. The left contained one of the Omnivores loaded with fourteen 9mm Glaser safety slugs. The right held the super-light XM-15 set on three shot burst. His scan of the surrounding area was very deliberate, and special attention was paid to the closed door of the shop. He had helped in the installation of that massive closure, and it was with immense relief that he saw no signs of forced entry, or obvious breakage of window glass. He used a large measure of caution approaching the door, and almost jumped out of his socks when the door opened.

" It's about damn time you got back, Marty and I have already done the hard part. I should've figured you'd get here after the work was done."

" Shit. I really didn't need that Tobe, but I am glad to see things are alright here so far. " He leaned back to the wall on the knob side of the door as he conversed with the older man. " I got back as fast as I could. But ran into a little problem just south of the bridge that held me up a bit."

" I don't need excuses from you friend. I am just damn glad to see you back. I was on the phone with Frankie when it hit the fan. " He paused as he coughed away the tears and the memory of his old friend. His voice was more subdued as he continued. " At first I thought Ma Bell burped up the service, but then I saw the cloud when I started back to the house and realized what actually happened. "

" It was awhile before I knew what happened, too. Is Marty OK? I take it she knows what's going on. "

Marty's voice was a fierce growl when it rolled through the small opening and replied. " Yes, I know what happened. I can figure why it happened. But I don't know what we should do next and if someone doesn't tell me soon, I think I might just go insane."

" That's what I'm here for Marty. I'd like to load the shop into my truck, and hightail it back to my place before anyone comes shopping for things with which to kill their neighbor. Y'all don't have to come, but... but I've got the room, and I... I... GODDAMNITALL. I don't have anyone else. "

Marty shoved Tobe aside as she made her way to the sobbing figure braced awkwardly against the whitewashed wall. She only just remembered the conversation at the lunch table about Joshua's family being in New Orleans today, and coupled it to the logical assumption that New Orleans would have been treated a lot worse than Texarkana. She understood the waves of grief driven sobs only too well because she too had lost her entire family. She calmly took the modified rifle from his right hand and pulled his tear dampened face to her shoulder. She didn't say anything, for nothing can be said to relieve the terrible anguish of such a tremendous loss. Instead she did as he would have, she watched. She waited. She went on with her life.

The Omnivore: .45ACP, .44 Magnum, 9mm, .38/ .357, .38 Super, .380.32ACP, .22 Magnum.

Auto-loading pistol manufactured by George Callicotte.

Mahomed Suliaman lowered the binoculars after watching the touching scene at the distant farmyard. As the leader of Group Faoud, he had been detailed to attack and capture the gun shop he watched. His first plan was very simple. Simply ride, with his fifteen men, into the farmyard and blow away anybody who offered resistance. He discarded the plan after stopping for a final recon, and seeing the van like vehicle slowly approaching his objective. At first he thought an attack by the occupants of the van was imminent, and he was surprised to see tactical integrity maintained even while the new arrival was suffering some kind of emotional seizure.

Mahomed turned and motioned for his assistant to leave the vehicles and approach. The big white man passed along a quiet order to someone behind the lead car, and lumbered through the berm ditch of the dirt track. Luther Edwards, the only caucasian in Group F, seemed not to move well, but had a mean streak a mile wide. Though not as agile as a smaller man would be, he had deceptive speed and was terrifically strong. He also had a record as long as his arm.

While Luther negotiated the twenty foot slope to his chief, Mahomed raised the binocs and scanned the scene almost a mile distant. A single figure now stood beside the door of the converted barn and made one handed motions in evident direction of the driver of the dull brown truck. The figure stepped into the doorway as the truck approached, and disappeared when the truck body blocked the entrance from sight. He motioned Luther to silence when the man arrived at the top of the bulldozed ridge, and mentally discarded several alternate plans of attack before deciding what must be done.

" Luther, break out the survey map of this area, and find out where this road intersects the highway." The larger man grunted an affirmative and pulled a greenish USGS map of the area. He studied it for a brief interval and placed a crooked finger at the asked for junction.

" Here. About half way to town from the farmhouse. The roads meet in the middle of a square mile of pastures with no cover to speak of, but I don't think Hardesty will go there."

Mahomed's olive colored face turned back from another survey of the farmyard to stare with an unasked question at his junior officer. He paused as he looked down at the map, then returned his attention to the scarred face staring down the hill toward the farmhouse.

" What makes you say that, Luther? And what gives you the idea that Hardesty is among those at the shop. "

" Sir, I know Hardesty, and that is his truck. I know him because until the orders came down to stop the assassinations he was to be my target. I requested him as a target because I have reason to hate the son-of-a-bitch. He was the fucker who fingered me in a lineup for a service station job in Dallas about fifteen years ago. I spent eleven years in Huntsville because of him, and I want his ass. I know how he thinks in a combat situation because I watched him every time he enrolled in competition. I watched him play The Game every time he played. I know he won't go back through Fouke because it is too open, and he KNOWS this area like the back of his hand."

" OK. Then what the hell do you think he's going to do?"

" You see, this road leaves the highway and crosses that road about two miles from here. Well, this road goes back into the swamps around the Sulphur, and Hardesty spent a lot of time in there this winter hunting. There are a lot of hunting shacks back in this area, and I think he'd head back there to try and set up a defensible camp. "

" Now I see why Ali gave you this slot. OK. Let's send fire teams two and three back here along the pipeline, and set up fire team one in the woods on top of it. " He raised his head to scan the hills on the other side of the farmhouse, and made a quick decision. He then pointed out a small copse of trees along the road past the farmhouse and detailed plans for an ambush by team one. The ambush was to be an ineffective one, deliberately. The object would be to drive the small group into a second ambush set up along the road to the intersection. The idea was to occupy the attention of the small group with a following tactic, spring the trap, and stop them without destroying the weapons in the vehicle.