Case:Black - 37. Chapter 37

Southaven, MS

4^th Mechanized Infantry Brigade Headquarters

July 17, 2016 0200CST

Bill Sherman took the Goodman Road exit when he got to Southaven. It was very different from the last time that he had been there. Every business on the normally bustling street was closed and dark- even the businesses that were usually open 24/7. Sherman gave a mournful sideways glance as they passed a darkened Steak and Shake and Long Horn Steak House.

In the passenger side, Johnny Two-Eagles looked up and said, “Looks like we’re here but nobody is home.”

Sherman just grunted. The trip had taken a lot longer than they intended. All of the Hummers in the convoy were towing trailers and the duce-and-a- halfs kept the convoys speed down between forty-five and fifty. It had been a long haul on a humid dark night.

The small convoy was directed by police and MPs east down Goodman road to Airline Blvd where they were directed to turn South into a large but incomplete shopping center. The Guard had set up shop in the paved parking areas for buildings where construction was incomplete.

Sherman pulled into the marked unloading zone and parked. “All right guys. We’re here.”

Yawns and complaints came from the back seat as Nash and Bernardi woke up. The last Sherman had heard from either one of them was hours ago passing through Jackson.

Driving that night had been an unreal experience. There was practically no traffic on the roads. They had seen a few helicopters but those belonged to the Guard or the State. It was spooky to pass through normally busy towns that were just plain shut down. At least there weren’t any IEDs to stress over.

As they were dismounting the Hummer, a supply type with a clipboard came to the vehicle and checked the trailer. He was muttering about the damned MOPPs gear but after a day of it in July heat, everybody was probably muttering about it.

As the guy was scribbling on his clipboard, Bernardi asked, “Where’s 30 Company?”

The guy looked up and said, “Sorry guys, I’m half asleep. They’re up the hill. Did you just arrive?”

Sherman said, “Yeah and it was a long ride.”

The supply guy said, “Be sure to draw your MOOPs gear first thing. Standing orders.”

“Will do.”

Bear said, “How about finding a bunk?”

Sherman said, “You three hit the rack. I’ll find the duty officer and report in.”

Nash, Bernardi and Two-Eagles shouldered their gear bags and wandered off toward the tents and Sherman went looking for the Duty Officer.

The formalities were exchanged and all four of Taylor’s veterans were sound asleep fifteen minutes after arrival.

Air Force Special Flight

Denver to Mexico City

July 17, 2016 0230 CST

Besides for a pilot, co-pilot and a flight attendant, McGrath was alone on the Gulfstream. It was an Air Force jet used to ferry the brass from base to base. It wasn’t the most luxurious model but even a low end Gulfstream will spoil you rotten.

McGrath spent his flight time preparing. He pulled his shaving kit out of his black Mapedition duffle bag and went into the lavatory to freshen up, comb his hair and shave. He changed into gray slacks, donned light weight body armor, white shirt and red tie. The weapon supplied for the mission was a .380 Glock 25 favored by Air Marshals because the lower velocity round was at least theoretically less likely to depressurize a passenger jet. He put on the shoulder holster and tucked the Glock away under his blue blazer and looked in the mirror. He looked like an Air Marshal but something was missing. .

He went back into the cabin and quickly discovered that Shepherd was right about the gear. There was only so much that he could carry unobtrusively.

He rummaged through it and found an iPad. He fired it up and found that it was pre-configured for the mission. He typed in: Comm check. Sarah, are you there?

There was a brief pause and the reply: But of course. Stand by. I’m sending you pictures of the suspects taken when they cleared customs in Memphis.

There was a pause as the pictures downloaded and they took McGrath by surprise. These guys weren’t your run of the mill Jihadist. Only one looked even vaguely Arabic and he could be Greek or Italian. One was Asian and the other two were white Europeans.

McGrath typed: I want to talk to these mutts. Very interested to find out where they came from.

The reply came quickly: You and me both. Facial recognition on subject C gives an 80% match that he’s an ex-Army Ranger.

One of ours? McGrath couldn’t think of a curse vile enough for that and he knew at least as many as the average sailor.

I’m going to gear up. Talk to you in a while.

I’ll be here.

He continued to rummage through the gear and came across a frequency discriminator. It was a sweet little gadget that could read the frequency and cell id off of a cell phone that was just sitting around turned on. That was a must.

There were numerous of gadgets and gizmos but McGrath had been around long enough to embrace the KISS principle: Keep It Simple Stupid. It’s too easy to get distracted with all the toys when the most important mission critical items were a pair of mark 1 eyeballs and a working brain.

One of the items in the kit was a pair of mirrored sunglasses which were perfect to complete his “Air Marshal look”. He put them on and quickly discovered that there was much more to them than meets the eye. The glasses could see in infra-red, starlite or take a photograph by simply touching a switch on the frame. That was the just the sort of useful and nondescript item that he was looking for.

He transferred the stuff that he needed to his Maxpedition duffel and then began to study his cover identity. Apparently, Shepherd had a very long memory. She had used a cover ID that he had used in Europe back in the eighties. Max Stein: German national, late fifties now. He wouldn’t have to tax his memory to learn a new alias.

The badge had been issued by the European Union. He would stick to German because his French was entirely too rusty.

Last he pulled out the agency iPhone and holster and clipped it to his belt.

He was ready for show time.

Once he had finished and settled in, the flight attendant came back with a platter of coffee and Danish.

She handed it to him and said, “I know. You were never here. Good luck.”

He nodded and said, “Thanks. I never could stand Mexican coffee.”