Fleataxi
Deceased
Author's Note and warning: The following story is NOT suitable for pre-teens, and would be rated R for Violence.
Fleataxi
The Vigilante
by Fleataxi
Jenni Hicks was a beautiful blonde cheerleader, the homecoming Queen, and one of the most popular girls in school. One Thursday, she had just left the front door of St. Mary’s Catholic School and turned down the street to walk the 2 blocks to the bus stop as she did every day, when a van pulled to the curb, and 4 strong arms grabbed her from behind and slapped a wet cloth over her mouth and nose before she could get a scream out. As she inhaled to scream, she passed out. The van drove quickly away before anyone realized what had happened.
Later, Jenni awoke lying naked on a cold dark concrete floor, hurting all over. Suddenly, a single bright light shone over her face blinding her, and a naked man stood over her. “Hi, Jenni, I’m Nicky, and you belong to me.”
“What the **** are you talking about, My name’s Jenni Hicks, and when my dad finds out, he’ll kill you!”
“Your dad doesn’t know you’re here, and when I’m finished with you - you’ll disappear and no one will know you except me!”
Jenni screamed and it didn’t seem to phase Nicky at all. Nicky nodded, and 4 strong arms pinned her to the ground, and it started again. She awoke with something in her mouth, and realizing what it was, bit down hard. The last thing she heard was Nicky’s scream, then the blows started, and she passed out.
Nicky savagely beat her for hours, and when he was finished, he ordered his lieutenant Spike to dump her body somewhere and get back there. They needed to find another girl.
Later that evening, a homeless man spotted Jenni’s nude body dumped next to a dumpster. Out of curiosity he felt for her pulse, and her eyes opened. Her pleading look made him decide to walk a block, and drag a Newark cop back to the scene of the crime. His frantic radio calls brought a ALS ambulance from University Hospital, the closest Trauma Center. Looking at the wounds inflicted on her body, the hardened street cop turned and broke down crying even though he’d seen everything. He’d imagined the girl in front of him was once pretty, but she was no longer recognizable as being human. The Paramedics finally arrived, and quickly put her on a stretcher and got her into the ambulance. One paramedic was amazed she was alive, and the other thought that as badly beaten and broken as she was, she might be better off dying, but they kept working on her. 2 minutes later they arrived at the Ambulance entrance , and they were met by the trauma team. The ER resident in charge took one look at her body and said “Jesus Christ, who could do this to another person?”
They got her to Trauma Room 1 as fast as they could, and quickly got her stabilized. The tests came back indicating a ruptured spleen, and bruised liver and kidneys, and that was on top of numerous cigarette burns, cuts, two broken arms, various lacerations of the skin and scalp, and a fracture of the lower leg that looked like someone hit it with a lead pipe. Her face and head looked like someone had tried to break every bone in her face and head, and had succeeded. She spent the next 12 hours in surgery fixing the damage. The last people to work on her were a plastic and a maxillary surgeon who tried as best as they could to reconstruct her face. The plastic surgeon could tell from her bone structure that she had once been beautiful, so he tried extra hard to keep her from looking hideous.
Two days later, when they realized she was going to survive, they were forced to use dental records to ID her, since her prints came back unknown. The Hospital Chaplain drove with a Police Lieutenant to the last known address of the victim. They knocked on the door, and the Police Lieutenant said “Lisa Hicks?”
“That’s me officer?”
“Do you have a daughter named Jennifer Hicks?”
“Yes, she’s been missing for over a week? Did you find her?”
“I’m sorry Ma’am, she’s in University Hospital in Critical condition. If you come with us, we’ll drive you there.”
Lisa flew into panic mode, grabbed her purse and her jacket, wrote a quick note to Ron in case he came home, and locked the door. She rode in the back with the Chaplain, and took out her Rosary beads and prayed all the way to the hospital. When she got there, the ER attending took her aside, and tried to explain to the frantic mother that her daughter was alive, but had almost been beaten to death, and might not be recognizable.
“I want to see her right now!”
“Ok, Mrs. Hicks, I wanted to warn you first. Here, put on this gown and mask first, she’s in ICU and you can’t touch her yet in case you give her an infection.”
When they opened the door and Lisa got a good look at her daughter, she screamed “Mother of God” and fainted. She awoke 2 hours later in a hospital bed. A doctor was looking at her. “Mrs. Hicks, you went into hysterics and fainted. We had to sedate you for your own protection. Jennifer is still in the ICU, but we don’t think it would be a good idea to see her right now. Is there anyone we can call?”
“My Son Ron works construction in downtown Newark, and my husband Tom is overseas in Desert Storm. He’s a Special Forces Sergeant. My cell phone is in my purse, and their numbers are programmed in there.”
“We’ll have someone call them. You need to rest, so try to sleep. One last thing, do you have a picture of Jennifer?”
“There’s one in my wallet. Why?”
“The plastic surgeons can use it to hopefully rebuild her face.”
“My God, what did they do to her?”
“Mrs. Hicks, she’s been badly beaten, every bone in her face has been broken, and she had a skull fracture too.”
Lisa looked at the doctor, and passed out again.
Two hours later, Ron Hicks supervisor walked over to him. “Ron, you’ve got a telephone call. They’ve found Jenni, she’s in the hospital, and it’s not good. Take the rest of the day off, and let me know if you can come in tomorrow. God Bless you, and take care.”
“Thanks Rudy. I’ll let you know as soon as I can. Any idea where my mother is?”
“She’s in the hospital too - they had to sedate her.”
“Oh my God, what happened to Jenni?”
“Do you want a lift to the Hospital?”
“Thanks anyway Rudy, I might need the truck for something. Listen, if Nichole calls looking for me, tell her I’m at University Hospital, and I’ll be home as soon as I can.”
Ron drove as quickly as he safely could to University Hospital. He knew if Jenni was there, it was bad, since they were the major trauma center for Newark, and only accepted the worst Trauma cases since they had so many trauma cases per day in Newark. Finally he arrived in the parking lot, paid the parking fee for overnight, and jogged to the main entrance. He asked for Jenni Hicks, then remembered her name was Jennifer, and the lady at admitting asked for some ID. Once she confirmed his ID, she pressed the intercom button. “Dr. Miller, to Admitting, Dr. Miller to Admitting.” 5 minutes later, a haggard middle-aged man showed up, and whispered to the admitting clerk.
“You’re Ron Hicks?”
“Yes Doctor, what can you tell me about Jenni?”
“Let’s go in my office.”
Ron followed the doctor like a man walking down Death Row. When the doctor opened his door, he asked Ron if he’d like a cup of coffee.
“No thanks Doc, can you please tell me what happened to Jenni?”
Doctor Miller closed the door, locked it, then sat down and told him.
“Someone almost beat her to death. She’s got numerous broken bones, and they destroyed her face. We had to repair her kidneys and liver, and we removed her spleen since it was too badly ruptured to fix. On top of all that, there’s evidence of gang rape and torture including numerous burn marks all over her body.”
“Oh my God NO!”
“Mr. Hicks, she’s alive now, and we’ll try to keep her that way - but she needs the will to live. If you can’t convince her it’s worth trying to live, she’ll die here. I’m amazed she’s lasted this long after what happened to her. The paramedics recorded her body temperature at a near-hypothermic 90 degrees, meaning she had been laying on the asphalt for a while after she was dumped before she was found. By all rights, she should be dead now, but she seems to have a strong will to live. We can fix the physical damage, but you’re going to have to help her with the mental and psychological trauma she suffered, which is usually worse in these cases. I’ve reported everything I know to the police, and they took the test results as evidence.”
“Anyone locate my Dad yet?”
“They’re trying to get word through the Red Cross as I speak.”
“I hope Dad can make it home - if anyone can give her the will to live, it will be him!”
2 days later, Tom Hicks was reviewing the plans for another Sniper mission when a Hummer drove up to him, and a Sergeant wearing an MP armband jumped out. “Sergeant Hicks?”
“Yes Sergeant.”
“Please get in this vehicle - no questions please.”
Tom was used to security, so he handed the paperwork off to his 2nd in command, and jumped in the Hummer, which drove off to the General’s bunker.
“This way Sergeant.”
General Watson, the CO of the Ranger group they were attached to, looked up when Tom entered the room, said something to his aide, and the room cleared except for the two of them. “Tom, I’ve got bad news. Jenni’s in ICU at University Hospital in Newark, I’ve got your compassionate leave paperwork all filled out, and there’s a chopper waiting to take you to a plane going stateside. Leave everything here, and I’ll have someone take care of it.”
Tom was stunned. He never imagined anything could happen to his family, safe at home. He snapped out of his reverie when the General said “Tom, the chopper’s waiting, and they’re holding the plane. Don’t worry about anything but your family. Let me know if you need to extend that leave. Go with God!” Tom saluted the General then turned and jogged to the Blackhawk that already had it’s rotors turning. He ducked, and climbed aboard. As soon as he was belted in, the chopper rose and nosed over to get to the airport as quickly as possible. As soon as they landed, the Crew Chief directed him to a VC-11a that was sitting on the tarmac with it’s turbines idling. Obviously someone wanted to get him Stateside ASAP, since the VC-11a was the fastest VIP transport available, but it had half the legs of the VC-20. As soon as he was aboard, the engines spooled up, and the plane took off. They had to make several stops for fuel, but later that day, they were landing at Rhamstein AFB, where he transferred to a MAC shuttle flight to Langley AFB, and transferred to another Blackhawk from Langley that landed on the helipad at University. When he got off, the Trauma Resident guided him to his daughter’s room in ICU after he had changed into scrubs, and was gowned gloved, and masked. When Tom saw his daughter’s beaten and battered body covered with bandages and plaster, along with numerous tubes sticking out of her, he almost broke down and wept. Then he remembered that the Doc needed him to give her the strength to live. From somewhere deep within himself, he called up the strength, and he walked up to her, and said “Hi Angel, it’s Daddy!”
She turned her head toward his voice, but couldn’t talk due to the tubes in her throat. Tom swallowed and said “everything’s going to be OK, I’m here.” He stepped closer to her bedside, and held her hand. Even though it was bandaged, she held on tightly until the pain meds took effect again and she passed out. When he came out of ICU, Ron and Dr. Miller were waiting for him. Ron took two steps to his dad, threw his arms around him, and burst out crying. Once they regained their composure, Dr. Miller took them to an available room, and told Tom the whole story as best as he could. Tom went from a distraught father of an accident victim, to an angry father, and then to a murderous rage when he realized what had happened to his daughter. He didn’t let on to the Doctor or Ron, but whoever did this to his little girl would die, and hopefully die painfully! The US Army had spent the last 20 years teaching him how to kill people, and now he was going to put that training to it’s fullest use. He was going to wipe out all the dirtbags in Newark starting at the bottom, and working his way up. Later they were let into Lisa’s room, and had a tearful reunion. With her husband there, the doctor felt it was safe to release her, so he processed the discharge papers. He told Tom to keep her out of Jenni’s room until she looked better, or Lisa would probably go into hysterics again. They left the hospital in Ron’s truck and drove home.
The next day, Tom sought out his High School buddy, Captain Steve Legarse of the Newark PD.
“Tom, I’m so sorry about Jenni. Is there anything I can do?”
“Steve, I need everything you’ve got on the case.”
Steve knew Tom’s background and what he did for a living, guessed what he was planning, and secretly approved. He was sick and tired of the revolving door “Justice” system. He knew personally of dozens of criminals who were guilty of the crimes they were charged with, and had even confessed, yet were released on a “technicality” that some shyster defense lawyer dreamed up. He had a long list of targets for Tom to go after, and gave him a copy of the complete case file on Jenni’s abduction and brutal beating. Tom told Steve it might take a while, but if he suddenly heard about a bunch of dirtbags getting hit, he was probably behind it. Steve gave his best friend one last piece of news that made Tom furious. “Tom, the Chief has ordered me to close the investigation. It seems that City Hall doesn’t want to rock the boat right now with a bunch of developers making offers to build skyscrapers in downtown Newark. It will mean millions of tax dollars to the city. If they went public, the developers will go elsewhere. They’ve been covering this up for years, and if I weren’t due to retire in 2 years, I would have quit!”
Tom shook his buddy’s hand, and said “I might have to disappear for a while, so If you hear of my death, remember Mark Twain’s famous quote. Take care and see you later.”
Tom walked back to his car, and drove home to analyze the documents Steve had given him.Chapter 2 - Preparations
Over the next couple of weeks Tom read the huge file that Steve gave him, and took extensive notes, and visited his daughter in the evenings. Lisa and Ron went back to work. Tom remembered he was still on leave, and contacted his CO, requesting either an extended leave of absence or separation from the service for compassionate reasons. His CO was unwilling to let him quit, so he granted a 2-year leave of absence. Tom knew that he’d either be dead, in prison, or in hiding in 2 years, so he didn’t worry about it. He contacted a couple of people he could trust, and they advised him to move to Nevada and establish residency, since it was easiest to get the weapons he’d need for the mission legally in NV. He did some internet research and realized that if he lived anywhere outside of Clark County, getting Class III weapons was as easy as filling out the paperwork. Once he had finished his research, the 3 of them gathered together one night after dinner to discuss Tom’s plans.
After the meeting, he had a plan of action, but it meant leaving his wife, son and daughter for 6 months, and maybe permanently if he got caught. Ron knew his dad, and guessed what he had in mind. “Dad, please let me help. You’ll be much safer with me watching your back. I want to kill the SOB’s who did this to Jenni so bad I can taste it.”
Realizing that his family knew what he wanted to do and approved changed his plans. He talked to Lisa in bed that night, and she said that Jenni was going to be in the hospital for at least the next 6-12 months, and she ‘d feel safer living with her brother Tony than living alone in the house. She turned Tom so he was facing her, and her eyes blazed. “Tom, I know some of the stuff you’ve done in the Army - I want you to use that training to kill the people responsible for what happened to Jenni!”
“Lisa, Ron wants to help. I don’t know if I can risk his life like that.”
“Tom, if you don’t take him with you, he’ll just freelance and probably get himself killed in the process. If he’s with you, at least you’ll have a plan and a chance of surviving all this.”
“I’m going to have to go away for a while, possibly forever if I get caught.”
“Don’t worry about me Tom, just get the SOBs who did this to Jenni!”
Tom told Lisa about all the money he had stashed over the years, and his GI insurance. He told her once he was gone to file a missing person’s report, and claim the insurance. Since he was SOG, and gone for 6 months at a time, there wouldn’t be anything unusual for investigators to key on. That gave him an idea. He could use one of his “legends” to buy all the weapons he’d need in Nevada, and tap a secret account for the funds. He’d heard of a couple of gunsmiths in Reno who could do the work, and knew how to keep their mouths shut.
The next morning, Tom talked to Ron, and told him if he wanted in, he’d have to quit his job in Newark, and leave without telling anyone where he was going, including his girlfriend. Ron admitted they weren’t that serious anyway, she was just good in bed and it beat paying for it. Realizing what he said, Ron blushed and choked back tears.
Tom held him and said “That’s OK, son, you didn’t have anything to do with the people who tried to kill your sister. I’ve paid for it once or twice before when I was overseas before Lisa and I were married.”
He discussed his plans with his son, who said he should be able to easily get a job in Reno, since it could take 6 months to get the class III hardware they were going to need for this job, besides his dad needed to teach him how to shoot long distance if he wanted a backup. Tom thought about that, and if he could teach Ron to shoot really well, they would make a sniper team, and snipers never worked alone unless they had to. Tom told Ron he knew of a 600-yard range right outside Reno where they could practice when they weren’t working. Tom knew which legend he’d use. He had one that would work perfectly in Reno since they were building several casinos. “Ron, when we go to Reno, we’ll be deep undercover, and I’ll be using a legend. You can’t call me Dad anymore, or you’ll blow our cover. My legend’s name is Roy Heinz, and I’m a construction laborer. We’ll be roommates, and you’ll have to call me Roy all the time, do you think you can do that?”
“Sure Roy, when do we leave?”
“Tomorrow afternoon. I wanted 1 last look at Jenni in case we don’t come back.”
“What do you mean, of course we’ll come back!”
“Ron, there’s an ancient Chinese Proverb - If Revenge is your goal, first dig 2 graves.”
“Ok, I’ve got 6 months to get up to speed. If it means I die in the process, I just hope we get the SOB’s who hurt Jenni first!” Tom held his son and cried.
The next morning, they packed, and Lisa moved in with her brother, telling him that Tom was going back out on a mission, and might not be home for a while, and she felt safer living with Tony and his wife. Tony was a typical big brother, and immediately wanted to protect his little sister, so he said “Ok” without hesitating. Meanwhile Tom tapped one of his accounts, and bought a nondescript sedan for cash and loaded their baggage and some stuff that he didn’t want Ron to know about in case they got caught. Ron drove over to his apartment and packed while Nichole was at work. He wrote a simple goodbye note without giving her any hints where he was going, and told her the rent was paid through the end of the month, and she was free to stay there or find another place to live. He thought he’d miss her, then remembered how they met. She was a pretty waitress with a reputation of being easy at a sleazy unlicensed neighborhood bar that construction workers hung out at since they didn’t care how old you were, just the color of your money. Ron took her home one night, and realized the guys were right, she was dynamite in bed, and decided to let her live there with him. He didn’t have to worry about getting steady sex when he found out she insisted on having sex every night. He did have to worry about falling off buildings due to exhaustion though! He packed his bags and personal belongings in case the police were to check up on him, it would appear he moved out permanently. Lisa knew that no one outside the family knew that Tony was her brother since they had different last names (he was her half-brother with the same mother) so she knew she would be safe with him and his wife. Tom had taught her how to spot a tail, and she used the techniques frequently just in case. She ran her tail-evasion techniques on the way to Tony’s and was sure she wasn’t followed.
The next day, Ron and Tom showed up at the Hospital in separate vehicles, said goodbye to Jenni, who was mercifully still unconscious, and left Ron’s pickup in the parking lot with the keys in it. They transferred everything Ron would need for 6 months to the back seat of the Ford sedan, and they headed west. They drove pretty much straight through, and paid cash for their gas, and the one night at a truck stop motel when they were too tired to drive any further. They checked in separately into separate rooms to keep their covers intact.
Two days later, they arrived in Reno, and Tom rented a 2-room apartment in a decent part of town with good security, since he didn’t want anyone to see what he was going to accumulate while he was there. The first thing he did after signing a 6-month lease was to change the lock on the deadbolt and install a security system. He opened a PO Box using a false address, and got a Nevada Driver’s license using his legend under Roy Heinz with a false birth certificate and Ohio driver’s license with the PO box listed on the driver’s license.
Next he had to locate the gunsmith his friend had recommended. He found him in a small shop, and Tom guessed that he did mostly custom work, since he didn’t have much inventory. He walked back into the shop with him, and explained what he wanted, but gave the gunsmith the impression that it was for an overseas mission, and showed him a false ID that indicated he was a government agent. That was enough for the gunsmith, who made a lot of weapons for guys with the last name of Smith, who just happened to be plumbers. He was a licensed Class II manufacturer, and the only thing he’d need to sell him the weapons he requested was cash in advance, and the paperwork and tax stamps, which could take 6 months to get.
They discussed the mission, and he suggested a Remington 700 in .308 with an integral suppressor and a MacMillan fully adjustable stock with a built-in monopod and bipod. He’d free-float and cryogenically treat the barrel, and mount and boresight a Swarovski 6x24x50 AO scope with a BCD turret and a lighted reticle. Tom asked him to include a 3rd Gen US Manufacture Night Vision scope with that. At the same time, he asked for a .308 semiauto suppressed sniper rifle, and the gunsmith suggested the AR-10T action with an integral suppressor and a flat top with the same scope. Tom knew that this gunsmith knew his rifles, and agreed. Tom asked him if he could build a couple of hush puppies on Ruger 22/45 actions with integral suppressors and a slide lock. He nodded knowingly, and suggested Eley LR subsonic hollow points which were almost as quiet as a pellet rifle, yet still carried almost 100 ft-lbs out to 100 yards, making an excellent guard dog pistol. Tom snapped his fingers, and said “That reminds me, I need 2 break-down 22 rifles, but target accurate and fully suppressed.”
“I can do that too, but it will cost you. Would you prefer semiauto or bolt action?”
“Bolt action please - I want these to be as quiet as possible. How soon can you have everything ready, and how much is this going to cost?”
Let’s see, Remington 700 with suppressor, MacMillan stock, and Swarovski scope, say $10 grand cash. AR-10T with the same setup, another $10 grand. 2 3rd Gen NV Scopes, $10 grand each. 2 hush puppies, say $5 grand each. Would you like some Night vision goggles while I’m at it?”
“Sure if the price is reasonable.”
“I can get you the latest and greatest with 6 spare batteries for $5 grand each.”
“I’ll throw in a case of Eley LR Subsonic hollow points for $2 grand, make it an even $80 grand, and I’ll take care of the paperwork.”
Tom knew he was shamelessly overcharging for the paperwork, but it would be worth avoiding the hassle, and having too many people know his legend. Tom opened a briefcase and handed him 4 $20,0000 stacks of 100 dollar bills. “There’s the 80 thousand. How do I contact you to find out the package is ready?”
I don’t want you in the shop until it’s ready to pick up for both our sakes, so if you have a number I can call from a pay phone, that would be the best.”
Tom recited a number from memory, it was a dead end message drop number answered by a little old lady who didn’t know who or what she was working for. The gunsmith wrote the number on the order, and Tom almost had puppies. “That’s bad Opsec to write any number down.”
“Relax, the paperwork goes into a safe for insurance purposes, and no one knows about it but me and a lawyer who’s paid to keep his mouth shut and watch out for my health. Sometimes these plumbers can be nasty people.”
“Don’t worry, I get the merchandise on time, and in perfect working order without any tails or other complications, and you’ll never have even a sniffle. Cappisce?”
Tom thought the Mafia Tough Guy talk was a nice touch, and would give Mr. Gunsmith the wrong impression in case the gumshoes decided to sweat his ID out of him.
The gunsmith stuck out his hand, and said, “Nice doing business with you Mr. Smith.” Tom turned to leave, but made sure he checked the shop and the area around it before he stepped out into the clear. No one was around, so he hurried out to his car and drove away. 5 blocks away, he pulled into a shopping mall, swapped his plates and tossed the old ones in the dumpster. When he got home, he locked the door and took a tweezers and a bottle of Nail Polish Remover in the bathroom and removed the fake fingerprints he was wearing in case Mr. Gunsmith surreptitiously got his finger prints. Next he removed the fake mustache and facial appliances that changed his appearance, and put them back in his E&E kit. 10 minutes later, Ron drove up in a beat-up pickup truck that Tom told him to buy and register in his real name, and said “Good news Roy, I got us a job working at the Nugget for the next 6 months through the union.”
Tom knew a job was essential to their cover, so he told Ron “Good job, Ron. Want a beer?’ Even though his son was underage, he drank all the time at the various unlicensed bars in Newark, like the one he met his ex-girlfriend in, so Tom didn’t even think about him drinking at home as long as he didn’t get drunk. He explained when they left that he’d have to stay sober for the next 6 months, because if the Feds or local cops caught on to them, they’d have to make a run for it at a moments notice, or get into a shootout that they probably couldn’t win. Tom decided now was as good of a time as any to start Ron’s training. “Ok, if the feds busted in right now, what would you do?”
“Where are they, and how are they entering?”
“All out front, front door, battering ram - SWAT tactics.”
OK, if I’m dressed, I bail out through window and shoot anyone I see!”
“Nice try, while you’re recovering from the fall, they’ll shoot you first if they see a gun. What I just described is a No-Win scenario, either you’re dead in a shootout, or doing 20 years minimum in Prison, possibly with a cellmate that rapes you every night.”
“Ouch - I think I’ll take door #1.”
“That’s why maintaining our cover is so important. If we accidently blow our cover, the cops will be on us like white on rice. You can’t go back to see anyone you knew before you left, and if you get spotted in Newark by anyone you know, that could blow our cover too. We’ll have to be really careful, and conduct all our missions at night using suppressed weapons. We’ll have to buy enough food to last a while, and stay indoors under cover during daylight, and be very careful where we go at night. I’ve got 6 months to teach you everything I know, so pay attention since both our lives are at stake.”
Tom made dinner, then they went to bed, they had a long day ahead of them tomorrow.
The next morning, they loaded their gear belts and hard hats, and drove over to construction site at the Nugget. Ron showed his Carpenters Union ID, and Tom showed his Union ID in his Roy legend name, and the union rep had them fill out and sign some paperwork, then told them to get with their supervisor, and get to work. They put in a long hard day, and at the end of the 10-hour shift, they drove home in Ron’s truck. Ron sat on the sofa drinking a Bud light while Tom made dinner. Once they ate, they both hit the shower and went to bed early. By the time Friday rolled around, Tom was grateful for a day off, and Ron volunteered for some overtime, so Tom decided he needed to go shopping, and stopped at another gun shop in Reno to buy some more guns, and some ammo to practice with. Since Ron wasn’t experienced with pistols, he bought 2 Glock model 21 pistols in .45 acp which included 2 13-rd mags and a cable lock, 4 spare 13-rd mags, and 2 Bladetech IWB holsters with 6 matching single-mag carriers. The instant check flew right through, and he used his “legend” credit card to pay for everything including 1,000 rounds of 230gr FMJ ammo and 200 rounds of Cor-bon 200gr Flying Ashcan JHP ammo.
He wanted them to carry 3 spare mags each, which would give them plenty of ammo for the defensive use he was buying the Glocks for. The suppressed weapons were their offensive weapons, and the Glocks would be their second to last ditch weapons. Thinking about that, he looked into the case, and he had two Benchmade AFCK Axis knives in black with the thumb hole opener for $120 each, and 2 Spyderco Native III knives for $50 each. Looking further down, he spotted a couple of Kabars, and then he saw 2 Ontario RAT 7 knives in D2 with a kydex sheath. He always wanted 1 so he bought 2 of the RAT 7's, and 2 Spyderco Natives, since he didn’t need 2 “big” knives. He put those on a separate charge slip then asked the proprietor if he knew where someone could buy new tactical gear in Reno, and he told him of 2 places. Tom thanked him, and handed him a $10 for his trouble and carried the loot out to the car in 2 trips. He went home and stashed everything after loading the Glock, cycling the action, topping off the mag, then sticking it into one of the IWB holsters. Next he loaded 3 more mags and stuck them in the magazine carriers, then slipped the IWB holster between his pants and underwear behind his right kidney, and stuck the 3 spare mags behind his left kidney. He felt better now that he was armed.
Later that afternoon, Tom checked out the “cop shop” that the gun store owner had suggested. He was amazed that they could sell bullet-resistant Level IIa vests to civilians, but he didn’t argue with the man, and bought 2 of them, as well as 2 Blackhawk Industries LBVs with the removable ID patch - Tom knew where he could take care of that if they needed to impersonate Police, or even FBI or ATF agents. Since only Ron’s weapon had detachable mags, the raid vests were overkill, but could come in handy in certain scenarios. He did buy a good drag back for the Remington 700 and the AR-10T, as well as 2 daybags and 2 E&E bags that fit onto pistol belts. He bought the canteens and the rest of the gear there. The proprietor looked at him kind of funny, but he got a Walter Middy type in there every now and then, and Roy fit the profile. Middle Aged White Man having a second childhood. Looking outside he confirmed his suspicions when he saw the POS car he was driving. “Roy’s” credit card cleared, and that was all the shop owner really was worried about. Tom didn’t give a RA what the owner thought, but was mildly amused that if the owner knew what he was up to, he’d have kittens!
Tom drove home carefully, obeying the speed laws because he’d have a hard time explaining the gear in the back of his car plus the fact that he was illegally carrying concealed. By the time he got home, Ron was home drinking a Bud Light lying on the couch with his feet up on the coffee table. Later that evening, Tom explained that Ron didn’t have to work overtime, and once the rifles were in, he wouldn’t be able to. Ron’s blank stare told Tom that more explanation was in order.
“As a SOG sniper, I have access to a multi-million dollar slush fund of untraceable money. It has to be untraceable, or the US Government wouldn’t have plausible deniability if a dirtbag suddenly died from a 7.62 headache. Even the US government can’t track the funds to prevent a politically motivated witch hunt by the opposition party. Over the years, I’ve been “Sheep Dipped” more than once to the CIA for an overseas hit contract.”
“How many guys have you killed?”
“At last count, right around 30.”
Ron was amazed that his mild-mannered Dad was a Government Assassin. Tom had seen the look before, and said “Get over it - if I looked like Arnold Swartzenegger, I’d be useless in the field. I have to look like Mr. Average to be able to do my job, so don’t act so surprised.”
“Remind me never to get you mad at me!”
Tom laughed and walked to the refrigerator to get a beer and sit down and just talk with his son for a while - they might never have a chance to do that again.Chapter 3 - In Training
The next morning, Tom called around, and located a sporting goods store that sold Paintball products. They drove over there, and purchased 2 Brass Eagle Stealth Talon Ghost Paintball Guns including black facemasks, loaded tubes of 68-caliber paint balls, CO2 cartridges and other miscellaneous supplies. The total was right around $200. Ron asked Tom why he was spending $200 on paintball supplies. Tom said it was the only way to train him how to shoot a live moving target without shooting each other with real bullets. The pump action would make him slow down, and make each shot count. He bought some Surefire flashlights and other stuff including black sweats and knit watch caps, and black tennis shoes. Tom said that they’d practice sneaking around at night around the complex shooting each other with paintballs. It would be good practice on being sneaky, since if anyone called the cops, it would be tough explaining why 2 grown men dressed in black were shooting each other at Midnight with paintballs around an apartment complex.
With that out of the way, they went home, grabbed Ron’s Glock , his spare magazines, and the practice ammo and headed to the indoor range in Sparks to learn how to shoot the Glock. After talking to the Rangemaster/owner, they rented 1 lane on the far side of the range, and he handed them 2 sets of eye protection and ear muffs. Tom asked if they had a classroom he could borrow for an hour. Tom laid a $20 on the counter, and suddenly the classroom was available. Tom and Ron went inside and closed the door. Tom felt that giving Ron the “new shooter lecture” would be easier in here, then in the noisy shooting range. He showed Ron how to field strip the Glock and explained all the parts, and told him that the Glock was striker fired, so he only got 1 pull of the trigger per cycle of the slide, so if he got a failure to fire, he needed to cycle the slide and dump the round instead of trying to get it to fire. He showed Ron how to operate the gun, making sure there were no loaded magazines anywhere nearby.
Finally they were ready to go out on the range, and the owner handed him the targets, then they went out to the range, which was a very noisy area. Tom told him before he fired any live ammo, he wanted Ron to run a B-27 target out to the 7-yard line, and cycle the action of the Glock without a magazine in the gun, and point the gun at the center of the target, and squeeze the trigger 10 times in a row without a dime falling off the top of the slide. After about 30 tries, Ron went 10/10, so Tom handed him a loaded mag, and told him to put all 13 rounds in the 5x zone in the center of mass of the target. Tom told him to do it just like he did the drill, except this time, there was going to be some noise, and a bullet going downrange. His first attempt wasn’t too bad, with all the rounds in the black, and 5-13 in the 5x zone. Tom handed him another loaded mag, and told him to try it again, except this time, concentrate on keeping the sights inside the 5x, and only squeezing the trigger when the sights were right in the center of the 5x. He did much better this time, going 10-13. For his next mag, Tom ran the target back from the 7-yard line to the 15-yard line and told him to do it again. By the end of the 2-hours they had bought, Ron was hitting 10-13 in the 5x zone at 15 yards.
Tom told him they needed to knock it off for today, but every weekend until the rifles showed up they were going to come to the range, and slowly increase the difficulty of the tasks. Next week, he’d have Ron try it at 25 yards, then move him back in and shoot double taps, and eventually firing Failure to Stop Drills, which was the way he wanted Ron to shoot from then on, since even a .45 shooting JHP ammo was a notoriously poor fight stopper compared to a rifle. Tom thought about that, and on the way home, stopped at a Sporting Goods store and bought a Mossberg 590 12 gauge shotgun, and 3 boxes of Federal Tactical 00 Buckshot. When they got out to the car, Ron asked him what the heck that was for. Tom told him that a shotgun was the best defensive arm for indoors, especially inside an apartment.
He stopped at another gun store on the way home, and bought a 6-shot Sidesaddle and a 25-round bandoleer, and a box of 5 Federal 1oz Tactical slugs. Once he got home, he installed the side saddle, loaded 3 rounds of 00 buck and 3 rounds of slug in the Sidesaddle, then loaded the shotgun’s magazine full of 00 Buckshot minus 1 round. He explained that if you left 1 round open in the tubular magazine, it was quicker to switch from buckshot to slugs than if the magazine was full. He showed Ron how to load and unload the shotgun while it was pointed out the balcony door, which was the safest direction for it to be. Tom said he’d sleep with the shotgun next to his bed since he was almost always home at night.
That night after dinner, Tom told Ron to get into his black sweats, tennis shoes, and cap, then he took the paintball guns, and showed Ron how to operate it. Once it was pitch dark, they put on their masks, loaded the guns, and quietly walked out of the apartment into an adjacent field. He told Ron that the paintballs hurt when they hit you, and to never take off his mask unless they were together, and he called a time-out, since getting hit in the face could wreck your vision. He handed Ron a white handkerchief, and told him if he decided to surrender, to wave it, and it would be understood as a cease fire. With that out of the way, Tom told Ron “Lock and load. Take 20 paces, then prepare to meet your maker.”
They both loaded their guns, then Tom started counting. By the time he got to 20, Ron was 40 yards away, and hidden in the grass. Tom went to ground, and started looking for Ron using his peripheral vision. He also cheated. He brought his Surefire P-3 and forgot to tell Ron to bring his - oops! He thought he’d go over Marcinko’s rules of Spec War when they got home. Rule #1 - Cheat! He would have loved to bring his night vision goggles, but he left his back at base camp in Saudi Arabia. He thought he spotted movement off to his right, so he grabbed his flashlight and paintball pistol in a Harries technique, and briefly flashed the light were he thought Ron would be. He spotted a black object not more than 20 yards away, and centered the sight on the center of the object and squeezed the trigger. He was rewarded by a “Splat” and a moan as he nailed Ron in the ribcage with a round. He rolled to his right to keep Ron from returning fire, and cocked the pistol again. By now Ron was feeling like Inspector Clouseau after having been ambushed by Cato, and wished he’d think of something devious to get his Dad back for his sore ribs. He felt on the ground for a rock, and crawled slowly forward to where his Dad was last time, then taking a firing grip on his gun, hurled the rock to his left, striking the pavement. His trick worked when his Dad briefly flashed the light to his left, and Ron shot his dad right in the chest - Payback’s a Bitch! After an hour or two of this, Tom took his handkerchief out of his pocket, and stood up and waved it. Ron stood up, put the barrel plug in his pistol, and Ron did the same, then they walked back to the apartment. “Hey Roy, Fuscia is definitely your color!” Tom looked at Ron’s ribs, and commented “Well, Yellow is definitely yours, how are those ribs feeling?”
“Much better since I nailed you back.”
They went back home, threw the sweatshirt tops in the wash, and Ron handed Tom a beer, then they sat down on the couch.
“Roy, I’m not one to complain, but you were cheating.”
“Remind me to have you read Dick Marcinko’s Rules of SpecWar.”
“Why’s that?”
“Rule #1 is Cheat! You don’t get paid for how you kill the SOB, just as long as he’s dead. By the way that was a neat trick, tossing that rock to get me to flash my light.”
“Yeah, some secret agent you are - you fell for the oldest trick in the book!”
“Well at least I got you first!”
“How DID you see me?”
“If you use your peripheral vision, you can see better at night. Don’t look straight at something, look out of the corner of your eye. Don’t fix on one spot, keep your eyes sweeping back and forth so you have a better chance of seeing something.”
“I guess the next level of one-upmanship would be to use night vision goggles.”
“That would make it too easy - they can almost turn night into day - or at least a green-tinted monochromatic day. However, I did order 2 sets for us, no sense us not taking advantage of them.”
“So how much longer are we going to keep up this Cato-Clouseau thing?”
“I’ve got a lot to teach you, so get used to getting tagged!”
“Thanks Roy!”
“That reminds me - I need to teach you hand to hand combat and knife fighting.”
“Man I’m looking forward to this, can’t we just blow up the whole building with them in it?”
“I’d love to, but there might be some innocent bystanders in the building.”
“Guess we have to do it the hard way - 1 dirtbag at a time!”
“You sure you want to do this Ron, we could both wind up dead or in prison.”
“I can’t get the image of Jenni out of my mind. She was a beautiful girl and never hurt anyone. Why her?”
“Probably because she was so innocent. Prostitution has gotten much more specialized as the tastes of the perverts gets more perverted. According to Captain Legarse, Jenni wasn’t the first girl from a Catholic high school that’s been abducted in Newark. He thinks there’s a ring that is specializing in innocent virgins, and selling them to “collectors” or pimping them to high-dollar Johns.”
“Just thinking about it makes me sick - if we start this thing - let’s finish it! I don’t want any other girls to have to go through what Jenni went through. Doc Miller told me what happened, and I had a hard time not getting sick.”
“You realize that if we kill a bunch of pimps that others will replace them. It’s like taking care of he cockroaches, but leaving the rotten building.”
“Ok Roy, once we get the people who hurt Jenni, let’s really take out the trash. We’re cleaning out the slums, but the slum lords will just build new ones!”
“I’ve got an idea to do just that - but first let’s take care of the dirtbags that hurt Jenni.”
When they finished their beers, they went to bed - they had a lot to do, and little time.
The next morning, they drove over to the range, and Ron continued his lessons. Tom was impressed by his level of concentration, and was soon showing him the Failure to stop drill.
“Ron, the Failure to Stop drill will be the way you shoot a pistol from now on for defensive shooting. You’ve mastered the double-tap, now you need to add another element. Some of our targets, and most of the opposition will be wearing vests, and the only way to stop someone that’s not openly wearing a vest is the Failure To Stop. You put 2 rounds into the 5x ring in the center of the chest, then you give him a 3rd eye by putting the 3rd round in the other 5x ring over the target’s forehead. If they’re openly wearing a vest, don’t waste shots hitting them in the vest, go straight for the head shot.”
Ron loaded a magazine, and started slowly like his dad had taught him, and slowly picked up the speed. When he was performing the FTS fairly well out to 15 yards, Tom decided that they needed to teach him the draw from concealment, and combat or tactical reloading. He looked at the clock, and realized their time was almost up. Ron looked tired, so Tom pulled out his Glock, unloaded it and unloaded the mag, reloading with 14 rounds of practice ammo, then putting the gun back in it’s holster. He told Ron to stand off to his right, and ran a target out to 25 yards. He never learned to shoot IPSC, so he didn’t start from the Surrender position, but with his hands comfortably at his side. Suddenly he drew and fired in 1 motion, and Ron could see 3 bullet holes in the B-27 right where they belonged. Tom repeated the drill 5 times, then flipped a switch, and retrieved the target. Ron knew that all 14 rounds were in the 5x circles. Not only that, but his Dad was FAST! Ron guessed correctly that an undercover agent/sniper had to be fast to defend himself in case the mission was blown and he had to Escape and Evade, or shoot his way out of trouble. With that little demonstration over, Tom reloaded the magazine with defensive ammo, loaded the chamber and topped off the magazine, then stuck the gun back in his IWB holster. Since they already paid for the lane, they were on the way out, when Tom got an idea and asked the owner if he knew of any good Tae Kwon Do Dojos in the neighborhood. He recommended the Wheatley Tae Kwon Do Academy or Master Castillo’s Tae Kwon Do. Both taught the hard or full-contact method of Tae Kwon Do. Tom thanked him and they went back to the apartment. He called Master Castillo’s dojo first, and made an appointment to see him Monday evening after work.
By Monday evening, they were both exhausted, but Tom told Ron to shower and get dressed in clean jeans and tee shirt, and make sure he wore tennis shoes or something he could take off easily, since there were no shoes allowed on the mat. They arrived promptly at 8pm right after Master Castillo’s last class let out. He let them into his office, and told him his name was Tony, and gave him a brief background. He was military trained, and received most of his training in Tae Kwon Do in Korea while he was stationed there after Vietnam. Tom knew that he was about the right age, since he looked to be about 60 years old, but in excellent health and shape. Tony asked him what he could do for them.
“Sensei, my friend and I desire private instruction. I have the equivalent of a black belt in Military training, and my young apprentice (slight chuckle) is a beginner. We don’t have much time, but we do have ample funds.”
“This is highly irregular, but I do have the time. Very well, here’s a pair of uniforms, go into the changing room, and get dressed. I want to find out what you know, and how well disciplined you are before I train you.”
They got up, and Tom surprised them both by bowing and saying “Thank You Sensei” in near perfect Korean. With that they got up and got dressed. Tom showed Ron how to tie the white belt properly, then the walked barefoot out to the mats. Tom warned Tony “My Military training is a free-style, so be aware that I might throw in some Ju-Jitsu or Aikido techniques as well.”
With that they faced each other and bowed, then Tom just stood there - no fancy poses or funny Oriental noises. Tony was taken aback, then shook his head and remembered Roy, if that was his real name, was military trained, and wouldn’t take an orthodox stance. He moved in experimentally, and Tom easily deflected the attack. Tony broke contact, and decided to crank it up a couple of levels, and became a flurry of fists and feet, the equivalent of his Black Belt Test. Tom matched him blow for blow, and strike for strike, with neither one really landing a punch or kick. After about 5 minutes, Tony stepped back and bowed, waiting for Tom to do the same. Finally they sat down cross-legged on the mat.
“Ok Roy, I’ll teach you, but I doubt your story, or the fact that Roy is even your name. My guess is you’re Special Forces trained, and judging by your mastery of Korean, possibly Special Operations. I don’t need to know what you’re up to, or why you want me to train you. I hope you’re not using my training to commit evil.”
“Sensei, I can’t tell you my real name for security reasons, but Ron and I are on a mission to right a wrong, and I’m a little rusty, and Ron has no martial arts experience, unless you include watching Kung Fu movies. We’ve got about 6 months to learn, and an unlimited budget.”
“Ok, I’ll do it. 3 nights a week at 8:00 after my last class for 1 hour per night. I’ll charge you $10,000.”
“Can you include knives and other weapons in that training?”
“If I’m happy with your progress, and I feel safe teaching you weapons techniques.”
“Very well. I accept.”
“Ron, what do you say about all this?”
“I’m eager to learn, and I hope it doesn’t hurt too much.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll be wearing pads when we spar. I just wanted to know how advanced Roy was. He really doesn’t need training, just practice. He’s the equivalent of a 3rd Degree Black belt right now. He’s pretty fast, but not as flexible as he needs to be. You, Ron, on the other hand, are in for 6 months of getting your butt kicked as you learn. I don’t have time to coddle you.”
“Gee thanks, first I get shot with paintballs, now I’m getting my butt kicked. What next, swimming in boiling oil?”
Everyone laughed, and Tony called the “Class” to attention, and instructed Ron in some basic moves, which “Roy” duplicated perfectly, but Ron was having trouble with. Tony stopped, and put him in the correct position, and repeated it until Ron had it down perfectly, then they moved on to the next position. Soon their hour was up, and they both faced Tony and bowed. They got back into their street clothes and drove home.
When they got back, Tom gave Ron a huge pile of books to study, as well as some printouts, including Marcinko’s 10 Commandments of SpecWar. Tom told Ron that his training was about to get intense, and he wouldn’t have time to do anything but work, sleep and train, and he might cut into the sleep a little so he’d have time to read all the manuals he was giving him. Ron groaned and carried the pile back to his bedroom. Tom heard the shower start, and decided that Ron had decided to go to bed while he could.
Fleataxi
Fleataxi
The Vigilante
by Fleataxi
Jenni Hicks was a beautiful blonde cheerleader, the homecoming Queen, and one of the most popular girls in school. One Thursday, she had just left the front door of St. Mary’s Catholic School and turned down the street to walk the 2 blocks to the bus stop as she did every day, when a van pulled to the curb, and 4 strong arms grabbed her from behind and slapped a wet cloth over her mouth and nose before she could get a scream out. As she inhaled to scream, she passed out. The van drove quickly away before anyone realized what had happened.
Later, Jenni awoke lying naked on a cold dark concrete floor, hurting all over. Suddenly, a single bright light shone over her face blinding her, and a naked man stood over her. “Hi, Jenni, I’m Nicky, and you belong to me.”
“What the **** are you talking about, My name’s Jenni Hicks, and when my dad finds out, he’ll kill you!”
“Your dad doesn’t know you’re here, and when I’m finished with you - you’ll disappear and no one will know you except me!”
Jenni screamed and it didn’t seem to phase Nicky at all. Nicky nodded, and 4 strong arms pinned her to the ground, and it started again. She awoke with something in her mouth, and realizing what it was, bit down hard. The last thing she heard was Nicky’s scream, then the blows started, and she passed out.
Nicky savagely beat her for hours, and when he was finished, he ordered his lieutenant Spike to dump her body somewhere and get back there. They needed to find another girl.
Later that evening, a homeless man spotted Jenni’s nude body dumped next to a dumpster. Out of curiosity he felt for her pulse, and her eyes opened. Her pleading look made him decide to walk a block, and drag a Newark cop back to the scene of the crime. His frantic radio calls brought a ALS ambulance from University Hospital, the closest Trauma Center. Looking at the wounds inflicted on her body, the hardened street cop turned and broke down crying even though he’d seen everything. He’d imagined the girl in front of him was once pretty, but she was no longer recognizable as being human. The Paramedics finally arrived, and quickly put her on a stretcher and got her into the ambulance. One paramedic was amazed she was alive, and the other thought that as badly beaten and broken as she was, she might be better off dying, but they kept working on her. 2 minutes later they arrived at the Ambulance entrance , and they were met by the trauma team. The ER resident in charge took one look at her body and said “Jesus Christ, who could do this to another person?”
They got her to Trauma Room 1 as fast as they could, and quickly got her stabilized. The tests came back indicating a ruptured spleen, and bruised liver and kidneys, and that was on top of numerous cigarette burns, cuts, two broken arms, various lacerations of the skin and scalp, and a fracture of the lower leg that looked like someone hit it with a lead pipe. Her face and head looked like someone had tried to break every bone in her face and head, and had succeeded. She spent the next 12 hours in surgery fixing the damage. The last people to work on her were a plastic and a maxillary surgeon who tried as best as they could to reconstruct her face. The plastic surgeon could tell from her bone structure that she had once been beautiful, so he tried extra hard to keep her from looking hideous.
Two days later, when they realized she was going to survive, they were forced to use dental records to ID her, since her prints came back unknown. The Hospital Chaplain drove with a Police Lieutenant to the last known address of the victim. They knocked on the door, and the Police Lieutenant said “Lisa Hicks?”
“That’s me officer?”
“Do you have a daughter named Jennifer Hicks?”
“Yes, she’s been missing for over a week? Did you find her?”
“I’m sorry Ma’am, she’s in University Hospital in Critical condition. If you come with us, we’ll drive you there.”
Lisa flew into panic mode, grabbed her purse and her jacket, wrote a quick note to Ron in case he came home, and locked the door. She rode in the back with the Chaplain, and took out her Rosary beads and prayed all the way to the hospital. When she got there, the ER attending took her aside, and tried to explain to the frantic mother that her daughter was alive, but had almost been beaten to death, and might not be recognizable.
“I want to see her right now!”
“Ok, Mrs. Hicks, I wanted to warn you first. Here, put on this gown and mask first, she’s in ICU and you can’t touch her yet in case you give her an infection.”
When they opened the door and Lisa got a good look at her daughter, she screamed “Mother of God” and fainted. She awoke 2 hours later in a hospital bed. A doctor was looking at her. “Mrs. Hicks, you went into hysterics and fainted. We had to sedate you for your own protection. Jennifer is still in the ICU, but we don’t think it would be a good idea to see her right now. Is there anyone we can call?”
“My Son Ron works construction in downtown Newark, and my husband Tom is overseas in Desert Storm. He’s a Special Forces Sergeant. My cell phone is in my purse, and their numbers are programmed in there.”
“We’ll have someone call them. You need to rest, so try to sleep. One last thing, do you have a picture of Jennifer?”
“There’s one in my wallet. Why?”
“The plastic surgeons can use it to hopefully rebuild her face.”
“My God, what did they do to her?”
“Mrs. Hicks, she’s been badly beaten, every bone in her face has been broken, and she had a skull fracture too.”
Lisa looked at the doctor, and passed out again.
Two hours later, Ron Hicks supervisor walked over to him. “Ron, you’ve got a telephone call. They’ve found Jenni, she’s in the hospital, and it’s not good. Take the rest of the day off, and let me know if you can come in tomorrow. God Bless you, and take care.”
“Thanks Rudy. I’ll let you know as soon as I can. Any idea where my mother is?”
“She’s in the hospital too - they had to sedate her.”
“Oh my God, what happened to Jenni?”
“Do you want a lift to the Hospital?”
“Thanks anyway Rudy, I might need the truck for something. Listen, if Nichole calls looking for me, tell her I’m at University Hospital, and I’ll be home as soon as I can.”
Ron drove as quickly as he safely could to University Hospital. He knew if Jenni was there, it was bad, since they were the major trauma center for Newark, and only accepted the worst Trauma cases since they had so many trauma cases per day in Newark. Finally he arrived in the parking lot, paid the parking fee for overnight, and jogged to the main entrance. He asked for Jenni Hicks, then remembered her name was Jennifer, and the lady at admitting asked for some ID. Once she confirmed his ID, she pressed the intercom button. “Dr. Miller, to Admitting, Dr. Miller to Admitting.” 5 minutes later, a haggard middle-aged man showed up, and whispered to the admitting clerk.
“You’re Ron Hicks?”
“Yes Doctor, what can you tell me about Jenni?”
“Let’s go in my office.”
Ron followed the doctor like a man walking down Death Row. When the doctor opened his door, he asked Ron if he’d like a cup of coffee.
“No thanks Doc, can you please tell me what happened to Jenni?”
Doctor Miller closed the door, locked it, then sat down and told him.
“Someone almost beat her to death. She’s got numerous broken bones, and they destroyed her face. We had to repair her kidneys and liver, and we removed her spleen since it was too badly ruptured to fix. On top of all that, there’s evidence of gang rape and torture including numerous burn marks all over her body.”
“Oh my God NO!”
“Mr. Hicks, she’s alive now, and we’ll try to keep her that way - but she needs the will to live. If you can’t convince her it’s worth trying to live, she’ll die here. I’m amazed she’s lasted this long after what happened to her. The paramedics recorded her body temperature at a near-hypothermic 90 degrees, meaning she had been laying on the asphalt for a while after she was dumped before she was found. By all rights, she should be dead now, but she seems to have a strong will to live. We can fix the physical damage, but you’re going to have to help her with the mental and psychological trauma she suffered, which is usually worse in these cases. I’ve reported everything I know to the police, and they took the test results as evidence.”
“Anyone locate my Dad yet?”
“They’re trying to get word through the Red Cross as I speak.”
“I hope Dad can make it home - if anyone can give her the will to live, it will be him!”
2 days later, Tom Hicks was reviewing the plans for another Sniper mission when a Hummer drove up to him, and a Sergeant wearing an MP armband jumped out. “Sergeant Hicks?”
“Yes Sergeant.”
“Please get in this vehicle - no questions please.”
Tom was used to security, so he handed the paperwork off to his 2nd in command, and jumped in the Hummer, which drove off to the General’s bunker.
“This way Sergeant.”
General Watson, the CO of the Ranger group they were attached to, looked up when Tom entered the room, said something to his aide, and the room cleared except for the two of them. “Tom, I’ve got bad news. Jenni’s in ICU at University Hospital in Newark, I’ve got your compassionate leave paperwork all filled out, and there’s a chopper waiting to take you to a plane going stateside. Leave everything here, and I’ll have someone take care of it.”
Tom was stunned. He never imagined anything could happen to his family, safe at home. He snapped out of his reverie when the General said “Tom, the chopper’s waiting, and they’re holding the plane. Don’t worry about anything but your family. Let me know if you need to extend that leave. Go with God!” Tom saluted the General then turned and jogged to the Blackhawk that already had it’s rotors turning. He ducked, and climbed aboard. As soon as he was belted in, the chopper rose and nosed over to get to the airport as quickly as possible. As soon as they landed, the Crew Chief directed him to a VC-11a that was sitting on the tarmac with it’s turbines idling. Obviously someone wanted to get him Stateside ASAP, since the VC-11a was the fastest VIP transport available, but it had half the legs of the VC-20. As soon as he was aboard, the engines spooled up, and the plane took off. They had to make several stops for fuel, but later that day, they were landing at Rhamstein AFB, where he transferred to a MAC shuttle flight to Langley AFB, and transferred to another Blackhawk from Langley that landed on the helipad at University. When he got off, the Trauma Resident guided him to his daughter’s room in ICU after he had changed into scrubs, and was gowned gloved, and masked. When Tom saw his daughter’s beaten and battered body covered with bandages and plaster, along with numerous tubes sticking out of her, he almost broke down and wept. Then he remembered that the Doc needed him to give her the strength to live. From somewhere deep within himself, he called up the strength, and he walked up to her, and said “Hi Angel, it’s Daddy!”
She turned her head toward his voice, but couldn’t talk due to the tubes in her throat. Tom swallowed and said “everything’s going to be OK, I’m here.” He stepped closer to her bedside, and held her hand. Even though it was bandaged, she held on tightly until the pain meds took effect again and she passed out. When he came out of ICU, Ron and Dr. Miller were waiting for him. Ron took two steps to his dad, threw his arms around him, and burst out crying. Once they regained their composure, Dr. Miller took them to an available room, and told Tom the whole story as best as he could. Tom went from a distraught father of an accident victim, to an angry father, and then to a murderous rage when he realized what had happened to his daughter. He didn’t let on to the Doctor or Ron, but whoever did this to his little girl would die, and hopefully die painfully! The US Army had spent the last 20 years teaching him how to kill people, and now he was going to put that training to it’s fullest use. He was going to wipe out all the dirtbags in Newark starting at the bottom, and working his way up. Later they were let into Lisa’s room, and had a tearful reunion. With her husband there, the doctor felt it was safe to release her, so he processed the discharge papers. He told Tom to keep her out of Jenni’s room until she looked better, or Lisa would probably go into hysterics again. They left the hospital in Ron’s truck and drove home.
The next day, Tom sought out his High School buddy, Captain Steve Legarse of the Newark PD.
“Tom, I’m so sorry about Jenni. Is there anything I can do?”
“Steve, I need everything you’ve got on the case.”
Steve knew Tom’s background and what he did for a living, guessed what he was planning, and secretly approved. He was sick and tired of the revolving door “Justice” system. He knew personally of dozens of criminals who were guilty of the crimes they were charged with, and had even confessed, yet were released on a “technicality” that some shyster defense lawyer dreamed up. He had a long list of targets for Tom to go after, and gave him a copy of the complete case file on Jenni’s abduction and brutal beating. Tom told Steve it might take a while, but if he suddenly heard about a bunch of dirtbags getting hit, he was probably behind it. Steve gave his best friend one last piece of news that made Tom furious. “Tom, the Chief has ordered me to close the investigation. It seems that City Hall doesn’t want to rock the boat right now with a bunch of developers making offers to build skyscrapers in downtown Newark. It will mean millions of tax dollars to the city. If they went public, the developers will go elsewhere. They’ve been covering this up for years, and if I weren’t due to retire in 2 years, I would have quit!”
Tom shook his buddy’s hand, and said “I might have to disappear for a while, so If you hear of my death, remember Mark Twain’s famous quote. Take care and see you later.”
Tom walked back to his car, and drove home to analyze the documents Steve had given him.Chapter 2 - Preparations
Over the next couple of weeks Tom read the huge file that Steve gave him, and took extensive notes, and visited his daughter in the evenings. Lisa and Ron went back to work. Tom remembered he was still on leave, and contacted his CO, requesting either an extended leave of absence or separation from the service for compassionate reasons. His CO was unwilling to let him quit, so he granted a 2-year leave of absence. Tom knew that he’d either be dead, in prison, or in hiding in 2 years, so he didn’t worry about it. He contacted a couple of people he could trust, and they advised him to move to Nevada and establish residency, since it was easiest to get the weapons he’d need for the mission legally in NV. He did some internet research and realized that if he lived anywhere outside of Clark County, getting Class III weapons was as easy as filling out the paperwork. Once he had finished his research, the 3 of them gathered together one night after dinner to discuss Tom’s plans.
After the meeting, he had a plan of action, but it meant leaving his wife, son and daughter for 6 months, and maybe permanently if he got caught. Ron knew his dad, and guessed what he had in mind. “Dad, please let me help. You’ll be much safer with me watching your back. I want to kill the SOB’s who did this to Jenni so bad I can taste it.”
Realizing that his family knew what he wanted to do and approved changed his plans. He talked to Lisa in bed that night, and she said that Jenni was going to be in the hospital for at least the next 6-12 months, and she ‘d feel safer living with her brother Tony than living alone in the house. She turned Tom so he was facing her, and her eyes blazed. “Tom, I know some of the stuff you’ve done in the Army - I want you to use that training to kill the people responsible for what happened to Jenni!”
“Lisa, Ron wants to help. I don’t know if I can risk his life like that.”
“Tom, if you don’t take him with you, he’ll just freelance and probably get himself killed in the process. If he’s with you, at least you’ll have a plan and a chance of surviving all this.”
“I’m going to have to go away for a while, possibly forever if I get caught.”
“Don’t worry about me Tom, just get the SOBs who did this to Jenni!”
Tom told Lisa about all the money he had stashed over the years, and his GI insurance. He told her once he was gone to file a missing person’s report, and claim the insurance. Since he was SOG, and gone for 6 months at a time, there wouldn’t be anything unusual for investigators to key on. That gave him an idea. He could use one of his “legends” to buy all the weapons he’d need in Nevada, and tap a secret account for the funds. He’d heard of a couple of gunsmiths in Reno who could do the work, and knew how to keep their mouths shut.
The next morning, Tom talked to Ron, and told him if he wanted in, he’d have to quit his job in Newark, and leave without telling anyone where he was going, including his girlfriend. Ron admitted they weren’t that serious anyway, she was just good in bed and it beat paying for it. Realizing what he said, Ron blushed and choked back tears.
Tom held him and said “That’s OK, son, you didn’t have anything to do with the people who tried to kill your sister. I’ve paid for it once or twice before when I was overseas before Lisa and I were married.”
He discussed his plans with his son, who said he should be able to easily get a job in Reno, since it could take 6 months to get the class III hardware they were going to need for this job, besides his dad needed to teach him how to shoot long distance if he wanted a backup. Tom thought about that, and if he could teach Ron to shoot really well, they would make a sniper team, and snipers never worked alone unless they had to. Tom told Ron he knew of a 600-yard range right outside Reno where they could practice when they weren’t working. Tom knew which legend he’d use. He had one that would work perfectly in Reno since they were building several casinos. “Ron, when we go to Reno, we’ll be deep undercover, and I’ll be using a legend. You can’t call me Dad anymore, or you’ll blow our cover. My legend’s name is Roy Heinz, and I’m a construction laborer. We’ll be roommates, and you’ll have to call me Roy all the time, do you think you can do that?”
“Sure Roy, when do we leave?”
“Tomorrow afternoon. I wanted 1 last look at Jenni in case we don’t come back.”
“What do you mean, of course we’ll come back!”
“Ron, there’s an ancient Chinese Proverb - If Revenge is your goal, first dig 2 graves.”
“Ok, I’ve got 6 months to get up to speed. If it means I die in the process, I just hope we get the SOB’s who hurt Jenni first!” Tom held his son and cried.
The next morning, they packed, and Lisa moved in with her brother, telling him that Tom was going back out on a mission, and might not be home for a while, and she felt safer living with Tony and his wife. Tony was a typical big brother, and immediately wanted to protect his little sister, so he said “Ok” without hesitating. Meanwhile Tom tapped one of his accounts, and bought a nondescript sedan for cash and loaded their baggage and some stuff that he didn’t want Ron to know about in case they got caught. Ron drove over to his apartment and packed while Nichole was at work. He wrote a simple goodbye note without giving her any hints where he was going, and told her the rent was paid through the end of the month, and she was free to stay there or find another place to live. He thought he’d miss her, then remembered how they met. She was a pretty waitress with a reputation of being easy at a sleazy unlicensed neighborhood bar that construction workers hung out at since they didn’t care how old you were, just the color of your money. Ron took her home one night, and realized the guys were right, she was dynamite in bed, and decided to let her live there with him. He didn’t have to worry about getting steady sex when he found out she insisted on having sex every night. He did have to worry about falling off buildings due to exhaustion though! He packed his bags and personal belongings in case the police were to check up on him, it would appear he moved out permanently. Lisa knew that no one outside the family knew that Tony was her brother since they had different last names (he was her half-brother with the same mother) so she knew she would be safe with him and his wife. Tom had taught her how to spot a tail, and she used the techniques frequently just in case. She ran her tail-evasion techniques on the way to Tony’s and was sure she wasn’t followed.
The next day, Ron and Tom showed up at the Hospital in separate vehicles, said goodbye to Jenni, who was mercifully still unconscious, and left Ron’s pickup in the parking lot with the keys in it. They transferred everything Ron would need for 6 months to the back seat of the Ford sedan, and they headed west. They drove pretty much straight through, and paid cash for their gas, and the one night at a truck stop motel when they were too tired to drive any further. They checked in separately into separate rooms to keep their covers intact.
Two days later, they arrived in Reno, and Tom rented a 2-room apartment in a decent part of town with good security, since he didn’t want anyone to see what he was going to accumulate while he was there. The first thing he did after signing a 6-month lease was to change the lock on the deadbolt and install a security system. He opened a PO Box using a false address, and got a Nevada Driver’s license using his legend under Roy Heinz with a false birth certificate and Ohio driver’s license with the PO box listed on the driver’s license.
Next he had to locate the gunsmith his friend had recommended. He found him in a small shop, and Tom guessed that he did mostly custom work, since he didn’t have much inventory. He walked back into the shop with him, and explained what he wanted, but gave the gunsmith the impression that it was for an overseas mission, and showed him a false ID that indicated he was a government agent. That was enough for the gunsmith, who made a lot of weapons for guys with the last name of Smith, who just happened to be plumbers. He was a licensed Class II manufacturer, and the only thing he’d need to sell him the weapons he requested was cash in advance, and the paperwork and tax stamps, which could take 6 months to get.
They discussed the mission, and he suggested a Remington 700 in .308 with an integral suppressor and a MacMillan fully adjustable stock with a built-in monopod and bipod. He’d free-float and cryogenically treat the barrel, and mount and boresight a Swarovski 6x24x50 AO scope with a BCD turret and a lighted reticle. Tom asked him to include a 3rd Gen US Manufacture Night Vision scope with that. At the same time, he asked for a .308 semiauto suppressed sniper rifle, and the gunsmith suggested the AR-10T action with an integral suppressor and a flat top with the same scope. Tom knew that this gunsmith knew his rifles, and agreed. Tom asked him if he could build a couple of hush puppies on Ruger 22/45 actions with integral suppressors and a slide lock. He nodded knowingly, and suggested Eley LR subsonic hollow points which were almost as quiet as a pellet rifle, yet still carried almost 100 ft-lbs out to 100 yards, making an excellent guard dog pistol. Tom snapped his fingers, and said “That reminds me, I need 2 break-down 22 rifles, but target accurate and fully suppressed.”
“I can do that too, but it will cost you. Would you prefer semiauto or bolt action?”
“Bolt action please - I want these to be as quiet as possible. How soon can you have everything ready, and how much is this going to cost?”
Let’s see, Remington 700 with suppressor, MacMillan stock, and Swarovski scope, say $10 grand cash. AR-10T with the same setup, another $10 grand. 2 3rd Gen NV Scopes, $10 grand each. 2 hush puppies, say $5 grand each. Would you like some Night vision goggles while I’m at it?”
“Sure if the price is reasonable.”
“I can get you the latest and greatest with 6 spare batteries for $5 grand each.”
“I’ll throw in a case of Eley LR Subsonic hollow points for $2 grand, make it an even $80 grand, and I’ll take care of the paperwork.”
Tom knew he was shamelessly overcharging for the paperwork, but it would be worth avoiding the hassle, and having too many people know his legend. Tom opened a briefcase and handed him 4 $20,0000 stacks of 100 dollar bills. “There’s the 80 thousand. How do I contact you to find out the package is ready?”
I don’t want you in the shop until it’s ready to pick up for both our sakes, so if you have a number I can call from a pay phone, that would be the best.”
Tom recited a number from memory, it was a dead end message drop number answered by a little old lady who didn’t know who or what she was working for. The gunsmith wrote the number on the order, and Tom almost had puppies. “That’s bad Opsec to write any number down.”
“Relax, the paperwork goes into a safe for insurance purposes, and no one knows about it but me and a lawyer who’s paid to keep his mouth shut and watch out for my health. Sometimes these plumbers can be nasty people.”
“Don’t worry, I get the merchandise on time, and in perfect working order without any tails or other complications, and you’ll never have even a sniffle. Cappisce?”
Tom thought the Mafia Tough Guy talk was a nice touch, and would give Mr. Gunsmith the wrong impression in case the gumshoes decided to sweat his ID out of him.
The gunsmith stuck out his hand, and said, “Nice doing business with you Mr. Smith.” Tom turned to leave, but made sure he checked the shop and the area around it before he stepped out into the clear. No one was around, so he hurried out to his car and drove away. 5 blocks away, he pulled into a shopping mall, swapped his plates and tossed the old ones in the dumpster. When he got home, he locked the door and took a tweezers and a bottle of Nail Polish Remover in the bathroom and removed the fake fingerprints he was wearing in case Mr. Gunsmith surreptitiously got his finger prints. Next he removed the fake mustache and facial appliances that changed his appearance, and put them back in his E&E kit. 10 minutes later, Ron drove up in a beat-up pickup truck that Tom told him to buy and register in his real name, and said “Good news Roy, I got us a job working at the Nugget for the next 6 months through the union.”
Tom knew a job was essential to their cover, so he told Ron “Good job, Ron. Want a beer?’ Even though his son was underage, he drank all the time at the various unlicensed bars in Newark, like the one he met his ex-girlfriend in, so Tom didn’t even think about him drinking at home as long as he didn’t get drunk. He explained when they left that he’d have to stay sober for the next 6 months, because if the Feds or local cops caught on to them, they’d have to make a run for it at a moments notice, or get into a shootout that they probably couldn’t win. Tom decided now was as good of a time as any to start Ron’s training. “Ok, if the feds busted in right now, what would you do?”
“Where are they, and how are they entering?”
“All out front, front door, battering ram - SWAT tactics.”
OK, if I’m dressed, I bail out through window and shoot anyone I see!”
“Nice try, while you’re recovering from the fall, they’ll shoot you first if they see a gun. What I just described is a No-Win scenario, either you’re dead in a shootout, or doing 20 years minimum in Prison, possibly with a cellmate that rapes you every night.”
“Ouch - I think I’ll take door #1.”
“That’s why maintaining our cover is so important. If we accidently blow our cover, the cops will be on us like white on rice. You can’t go back to see anyone you knew before you left, and if you get spotted in Newark by anyone you know, that could blow our cover too. We’ll have to be really careful, and conduct all our missions at night using suppressed weapons. We’ll have to buy enough food to last a while, and stay indoors under cover during daylight, and be very careful where we go at night. I’ve got 6 months to teach you everything I know, so pay attention since both our lives are at stake.”
Tom made dinner, then they went to bed, they had a long day ahead of them tomorrow.
The next morning, they loaded their gear belts and hard hats, and drove over to construction site at the Nugget. Ron showed his Carpenters Union ID, and Tom showed his Union ID in his Roy legend name, and the union rep had them fill out and sign some paperwork, then told them to get with their supervisor, and get to work. They put in a long hard day, and at the end of the 10-hour shift, they drove home in Ron’s truck. Ron sat on the sofa drinking a Bud light while Tom made dinner. Once they ate, they both hit the shower and went to bed early. By the time Friday rolled around, Tom was grateful for a day off, and Ron volunteered for some overtime, so Tom decided he needed to go shopping, and stopped at another gun shop in Reno to buy some more guns, and some ammo to practice with. Since Ron wasn’t experienced with pistols, he bought 2 Glock model 21 pistols in .45 acp which included 2 13-rd mags and a cable lock, 4 spare 13-rd mags, and 2 Bladetech IWB holsters with 6 matching single-mag carriers. The instant check flew right through, and he used his “legend” credit card to pay for everything including 1,000 rounds of 230gr FMJ ammo and 200 rounds of Cor-bon 200gr Flying Ashcan JHP ammo.
He wanted them to carry 3 spare mags each, which would give them plenty of ammo for the defensive use he was buying the Glocks for. The suppressed weapons were their offensive weapons, and the Glocks would be their second to last ditch weapons. Thinking about that, he looked into the case, and he had two Benchmade AFCK Axis knives in black with the thumb hole opener for $120 each, and 2 Spyderco Native III knives for $50 each. Looking further down, he spotted a couple of Kabars, and then he saw 2 Ontario RAT 7 knives in D2 with a kydex sheath. He always wanted 1 so he bought 2 of the RAT 7's, and 2 Spyderco Natives, since he didn’t need 2 “big” knives. He put those on a separate charge slip then asked the proprietor if he knew where someone could buy new tactical gear in Reno, and he told him of 2 places. Tom thanked him, and handed him a $10 for his trouble and carried the loot out to the car in 2 trips. He went home and stashed everything after loading the Glock, cycling the action, topping off the mag, then sticking it into one of the IWB holsters. Next he loaded 3 more mags and stuck them in the magazine carriers, then slipped the IWB holster between his pants and underwear behind his right kidney, and stuck the 3 spare mags behind his left kidney. He felt better now that he was armed.
Later that afternoon, Tom checked out the “cop shop” that the gun store owner had suggested. He was amazed that they could sell bullet-resistant Level IIa vests to civilians, but he didn’t argue with the man, and bought 2 of them, as well as 2 Blackhawk Industries LBVs with the removable ID patch - Tom knew where he could take care of that if they needed to impersonate Police, or even FBI or ATF agents. Since only Ron’s weapon had detachable mags, the raid vests were overkill, but could come in handy in certain scenarios. He did buy a good drag back for the Remington 700 and the AR-10T, as well as 2 daybags and 2 E&E bags that fit onto pistol belts. He bought the canteens and the rest of the gear there. The proprietor looked at him kind of funny, but he got a Walter Middy type in there every now and then, and Roy fit the profile. Middle Aged White Man having a second childhood. Looking outside he confirmed his suspicions when he saw the POS car he was driving. “Roy’s” credit card cleared, and that was all the shop owner really was worried about. Tom didn’t give a RA what the owner thought, but was mildly amused that if the owner knew what he was up to, he’d have kittens!
Tom drove home carefully, obeying the speed laws because he’d have a hard time explaining the gear in the back of his car plus the fact that he was illegally carrying concealed. By the time he got home, Ron was home drinking a Bud Light lying on the couch with his feet up on the coffee table. Later that evening, Tom explained that Ron didn’t have to work overtime, and once the rifles were in, he wouldn’t be able to. Ron’s blank stare told Tom that more explanation was in order.
“As a SOG sniper, I have access to a multi-million dollar slush fund of untraceable money. It has to be untraceable, or the US Government wouldn’t have plausible deniability if a dirtbag suddenly died from a 7.62 headache. Even the US government can’t track the funds to prevent a politically motivated witch hunt by the opposition party. Over the years, I’ve been “Sheep Dipped” more than once to the CIA for an overseas hit contract.”
“How many guys have you killed?”
“At last count, right around 30.”
Ron was amazed that his mild-mannered Dad was a Government Assassin. Tom had seen the look before, and said “Get over it - if I looked like Arnold Swartzenegger, I’d be useless in the field. I have to look like Mr. Average to be able to do my job, so don’t act so surprised.”
“Remind me never to get you mad at me!”
Tom laughed and walked to the refrigerator to get a beer and sit down and just talk with his son for a while - they might never have a chance to do that again.Chapter 3 - In Training
The next morning, Tom called around, and located a sporting goods store that sold Paintball products. They drove over there, and purchased 2 Brass Eagle Stealth Talon Ghost Paintball Guns including black facemasks, loaded tubes of 68-caliber paint balls, CO2 cartridges and other miscellaneous supplies. The total was right around $200. Ron asked Tom why he was spending $200 on paintball supplies. Tom said it was the only way to train him how to shoot a live moving target without shooting each other with real bullets. The pump action would make him slow down, and make each shot count. He bought some Surefire flashlights and other stuff including black sweats and knit watch caps, and black tennis shoes. Tom said that they’d practice sneaking around at night around the complex shooting each other with paintballs. It would be good practice on being sneaky, since if anyone called the cops, it would be tough explaining why 2 grown men dressed in black were shooting each other at Midnight with paintballs around an apartment complex.
With that out of the way, they went home, grabbed Ron’s Glock , his spare magazines, and the practice ammo and headed to the indoor range in Sparks to learn how to shoot the Glock. After talking to the Rangemaster/owner, they rented 1 lane on the far side of the range, and he handed them 2 sets of eye protection and ear muffs. Tom asked if they had a classroom he could borrow for an hour. Tom laid a $20 on the counter, and suddenly the classroom was available. Tom and Ron went inside and closed the door. Tom felt that giving Ron the “new shooter lecture” would be easier in here, then in the noisy shooting range. He showed Ron how to field strip the Glock and explained all the parts, and told him that the Glock was striker fired, so he only got 1 pull of the trigger per cycle of the slide, so if he got a failure to fire, he needed to cycle the slide and dump the round instead of trying to get it to fire. He showed Ron how to operate the gun, making sure there were no loaded magazines anywhere nearby.
Finally they were ready to go out on the range, and the owner handed him the targets, then they went out to the range, which was a very noisy area. Tom told him before he fired any live ammo, he wanted Ron to run a B-27 target out to the 7-yard line, and cycle the action of the Glock without a magazine in the gun, and point the gun at the center of the target, and squeeze the trigger 10 times in a row without a dime falling off the top of the slide. After about 30 tries, Ron went 10/10, so Tom handed him a loaded mag, and told him to put all 13 rounds in the 5x zone in the center of mass of the target. Tom told him to do it just like he did the drill, except this time, there was going to be some noise, and a bullet going downrange. His first attempt wasn’t too bad, with all the rounds in the black, and 5-13 in the 5x zone. Tom handed him another loaded mag, and told him to try it again, except this time, concentrate on keeping the sights inside the 5x, and only squeezing the trigger when the sights were right in the center of the 5x. He did much better this time, going 10-13. For his next mag, Tom ran the target back from the 7-yard line to the 15-yard line and told him to do it again. By the end of the 2-hours they had bought, Ron was hitting 10-13 in the 5x zone at 15 yards.
Tom told him they needed to knock it off for today, but every weekend until the rifles showed up they were going to come to the range, and slowly increase the difficulty of the tasks. Next week, he’d have Ron try it at 25 yards, then move him back in and shoot double taps, and eventually firing Failure to Stop Drills, which was the way he wanted Ron to shoot from then on, since even a .45 shooting JHP ammo was a notoriously poor fight stopper compared to a rifle. Tom thought about that, and on the way home, stopped at a Sporting Goods store and bought a Mossberg 590 12 gauge shotgun, and 3 boxes of Federal Tactical 00 Buckshot. When they got out to the car, Ron asked him what the heck that was for. Tom told him that a shotgun was the best defensive arm for indoors, especially inside an apartment.
He stopped at another gun store on the way home, and bought a 6-shot Sidesaddle and a 25-round bandoleer, and a box of 5 Federal 1oz Tactical slugs. Once he got home, he installed the side saddle, loaded 3 rounds of 00 buck and 3 rounds of slug in the Sidesaddle, then loaded the shotgun’s magazine full of 00 Buckshot minus 1 round. He explained that if you left 1 round open in the tubular magazine, it was quicker to switch from buckshot to slugs than if the magazine was full. He showed Ron how to load and unload the shotgun while it was pointed out the balcony door, which was the safest direction for it to be. Tom said he’d sleep with the shotgun next to his bed since he was almost always home at night.
That night after dinner, Tom told Ron to get into his black sweats, tennis shoes, and cap, then he took the paintball guns, and showed Ron how to operate it. Once it was pitch dark, they put on their masks, loaded the guns, and quietly walked out of the apartment into an adjacent field. He told Ron that the paintballs hurt when they hit you, and to never take off his mask unless they were together, and he called a time-out, since getting hit in the face could wreck your vision. He handed Ron a white handkerchief, and told him if he decided to surrender, to wave it, and it would be understood as a cease fire. With that out of the way, Tom told Ron “Lock and load. Take 20 paces, then prepare to meet your maker.”
They both loaded their guns, then Tom started counting. By the time he got to 20, Ron was 40 yards away, and hidden in the grass. Tom went to ground, and started looking for Ron using his peripheral vision. He also cheated. He brought his Surefire P-3 and forgot to tell Ron to bring his - oops! He thought he’d go over Marcinko’s rules of Spec War when they got home. Rule #1 - Cheat! He would have loved to bring his night vision goggles, but he left his back at base camp in Saudi Arabia. He thought he spotted movement off to his right, so he grabbed his flashlight and paintball pistol in a Harries technique, and briefly flashed the light were he thought Ron would be. He spotted a black object not more than 20 yards away, and centered the sight on the center of the object and squeezed the trigger. He was rewarded by a “Splat” and a moan as he nailed Ron in the ribcage with a round. He rolled to his right to keep Ron from returning fire, and cocked the pistol again. By now Ron was feeling like Inspector Clouseau after having been ambushed by Cato, and wished he’d think of something devious to get his Dad back for his sore ribs. He felt on the ground for a rock, and crawled slowly forward to where his Dad was last time, then taking a firing grip on his gun, hurled the rock to his left, striking the pavement. His trick worked when his Dad briefly flashed the light to his left, and Ron shot his dad right in the chest - Payback’s a Bitch! After an hour or two of this, Tom took his handkerchief out of his pocket, and stood up and waved it. Ron stood up, put the barrel plug in his pistol, and Ron did the same, then they walked back to the apartment. “Hey Roy, Fuscia is definitely your color!” Tom looked at Ron’s ribs, and commented “Well, Yellow is definitely yours, how are those ribs feeling?”
“Much better since I nailed you back.”
They went back home, threw the sweatshirt tops in the wash, and Ron handed Tom a beer, then they sat down on the couch.
“Roy, I’m not one to complain, but you were cheating.”
“Remind me to have you read Dick Marcinko’s Rules of SpecWar.”
“Why’s that?”
“Rule #1 is Cheat! You don’t get paid for how you kill the SOB, just as long as he’s dead. By the way that was a neat trick, tossing that rock to get me to flash my light.”
“Yeah, some secret agent you are - you fell for the oldest trick in the book!”
“Well at least I got you first!”
“How DID you see me?”
“If you use your peripheral vision, you can see better at night. Don’t look straight at something, look out of the corner of your eye. Don’t fix on one spot, keep your eyes sweeping back and forth so you have a better chance of seeing something.”
“I guess the next level of one-upmanship would be to use night vision goggles.”
“That would make it too easy - they can almost turn night into day - or at least a green-tinted monochromatic day. However, I did order 2 sets for us, no sense us not taking advantage of them.”
“So how much longer are we going to keep up this Cato-Clouseau thing?”
“I’ve got a lot to teach you, so get used to getting tagged!”
“Thanks Roy!”
“That reminds me - I need to teach you hand to hand combat and knife fighting.”
“Man I’m looking forward to this, can’t we just blow up the whole building with them in it?”
“I’d love to, but there might be some innocent bystanders in the building.”
“Guess we have to do it the hard way - 1 dirtbag at a time!”
“You sure you want to do this Ron, we could both wind up dead or in prison.”
“I can’t get the image of Jenni out of my mind. She was a beautiful girl and never hurt anyone. Why her?”
“Probably because she was so innocent. Prostitution has gotten much more specialized as the tastes of the perverts gets more perverted. According to Captain Legarse, Jenni wasn’t the first girl from a Catholic high school that’s been abducted in Newark. He thinks there’s a ring that is specializing in innocent virgins, and selling them to “collectors” or pimping them to high-dollar Johns.”
“Just thinking about it makes me sick - if we start this thing - let’s finish it! I don’t want any other girls to have to go through what Jenni went through. Doc Miller told me what happened, and I had a hard time not getting sick.”
“You realize that if we kill a bunch of pimps that others will replace them. It’s like taking care of he cockroaches, but leaving the rotten building.”
“Ok Roy, once we get the people who hurt Jenni, let’s really take out the trash. We’re cleaning out the slums, but the slum lords will just build new ones!”
“I’ve got an idea to do just that - but first let’s take care of the dirtbags that hurt Jenni.”
When they finished their beers, they went to bed - they had a lot to do, and little time.
The next morning, they drove over to the range, and Ron continued his lessons. Tom was impressed by his level of concentration, and was soon showing him the Failure to stop drill.
“Ron, the Failure to Stop drill will be the way you shoot a pistol from now on for defensive shooting. You’ve mastered the double-tap, now you need to add another element. Some of our targets, and most of the opposition will be wearing vests, and the only way to stop someone that’s not openly wearing a vest is the Failure To Stop. You put 2 rounds into the 5x ring in the center of the chest, then you give him a 3rd eye by putting the 3rd round in the other 5x ring over the target’s forehead. If they’re openly wearing a vest, don’t waste shots hitting them in the vest, go straight for the head shot.”
Ron loaded a magazine, and started slowly like his dad had taught him, and slowly picked up the speed. When he was performing the FTS fairly well out to 15 yards, Tom decided that they needed to teach him the draw from concealment, and combat or tactical reloading. He looked at the clock, and realized their time was almost up. Ron looked tired, so Tom pulled out his Glock, unloaded it and unloaded the mag, reloading with 14 rounds of practice ammo, then putting the gun back in it’s holster. He told Ron to stand off to his right, and ran a target out to 25 yards. He never learned to shoot IPSC, so he didn’t start from the Surrender position, but with his hands comfortably at his side. Suddenly he drew and fired in 1 motion, and Ron could see 3 bullet holes in the B-27 right where they belonged. Tom repeated the drill 5 times, then flipped a switch, and retrieved the target. Ron knew that all 14 rounds were in the 5x circles. Not only that, but his Dad was FAST! Ron guessed correctly that an undercover agent/sniper had to be fast to defend himself in case the mission was blown and he had to Escape and Evade, or shoot his way out of trouble. With that little demonstration over, Tom reloaded the magazine with defensive ammo, loaded the chamber and topped off the magazine, then stuck the gun back in his IWB holster. Since they already paid for the lane, they were on the way out, when Tom got an idea and asked the owner if he knew of any good Tae Kwon Do Dojos in the neighborhood. He recommended the Wheatley Tae Kwon Do Academy or Master Castillo’s Tae Kwon Do. Both taught the hard or full-contact method of Tae Kwon Do. Tom thanked him and they went back to the apartment. He called Master Castillo’s dojo first, and made an appointment to see him Monday evening after work.
By Monday evening, they were both exhausted, but Tom told Ron to shower and get dressed in clean jeans and tee shirt, and make sure he wore tennis shoes or something he could take off easily, since there were no shoes allowed on the mat. They arrived promptly at 8pm right after Master Castillo’s last class let out. He let them into his office, and told him his name was Tony, and gave him a brief background. He was military trained, and received most of his training in Tae Kwon Do in Korea while he was stationed there after Vietnam. Tom knew that he was about the right age, since he looked to be about 60 years old, but in excellent health and shape. Tony asked him what he could do for them.
“Sensei, my friend and I desire private instruction. I have the equivalent of a black belt in Military training, and my young apprentice (slight chuckle) is a beginner. We don’t have much time, but we do have ample funds.”
“This is highly irregular, but I do have the time. Very well, here’s a pair of uniforms, go into the changing room, and get dressed. I want to find out what you know, and how well disciplined you are before I train you.”
They got up, and Tom surprised them both by bowing and saying “Thank You Sensei” in near perfect Korean. With that they got up and got dressed. Tom showed Ron how to tie the white belt properly, then the walked barefoot out to the mats. Tom warned Tony “My Military training is a free-style, so be aware that I might throw in some Ju-Jitsu or Aikido techniques as well.”
With that they faced each other and bowed, then Tom just stood there - no fancy poses or funny Oriental noises. Tony was taken aback, then shook his head and remembered Roy, if that was his real name, was military trained, and wouldn’t take an orthodox stance. He moved in experimentally, and Tom easily deflected the attack. Tony broke contact, and decided to crank it up a couple of levels, and became a flurry of fists and feet, the equivalent of his Black Belt Test. Tom matched him blow for blow, and strike for strike, with neither one really landing a punch or kick. After about 5 minutes, Tony stepped back and bowed, waiting for Tom to do the same. Finally they sat down cross-legged on the mat.
“Ok Roy, I’ll teach you, but I doubt your story, or the fact that Roy is even your name. My guess is you’re Special Forces trained, and judging by your mastery of Korean, possibly Special Operations. I don’t need to know what you’re up to, or why you want me to train you. I hope you’re not using my training to commit evil.”
“Sensei, I can’t tell you my real name for security reasons, but Ron and I are on a mission to right a wrong, and I’m a little rusty, and Ron has no martial arts experience, unless you include watching Kung Fu movies. We’ve got about 6 months to learn, and an unlimited budget.”
“Ok, I’ll do it. 3 nights a week at 8:00 after my last class for 1 hour per night. I’ll charge you $10,000.”
“Can you include knives and other weapons in that training?”
“If I’m happy with your progress, and I feel safe teaching you weapons techniques.”
“Very well. I accept.”
“Ron, what do you say about all this?”
“I’m eager to learn, and I hope it doesn’t hurt too much.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll be wearing pads when we spar. I just wanted to know how advanced Roy was. He really doesn’t need training, just practice. He’s the equivalent of a 3rd Degree Black belt right now. He’s pretty fast, but not as flexible as he needs to be. You, Ron, on the other hand, are in for 6 months of getting your butt kicked as you learn. I don’t have time to coddle you.”
“Gee thanks, first I get shot with paintballs, now I’m getting my butt kicked. What next, swimming in boiling oil?”
Everyone laughed, and Tony called the “Class” to attention, and instructed Ron in some basic moves, which “Roy” duplicated perfectly, but Ron was having trouble with. Tony stopped, and put him in the correct position, and repeated it until Ron had it down perfectly, then they moved on to the next position. Soon their hour was up, and they both faced Tony and bowed. They got back into their street clothes and drove home.
When they got back, Tom gave Ron a huge pile of books to study, as well as some printouts, including Marcinko’s 10 Commandments of SpecWar. Tom told Ron that his training was about to get intense, and he wouldn’t have time to do anything but work, sleep and train, and he might cut into the sleep a little so he’d have time to read all the manuals he was giving him. Ron groaned and carried the pile back to his bedroom. Tom heard the shower start, and decided that Ron had decided to go to bed while he could.
Fleataxi