Latest from the Janitors, Asps, and Other Books - Father Mulligan (Asps Series) - Intent on killing Jim, former Stassi officer tries again.

Today’s excerpt is from Father Mulligan, Book #8 of the nine-book Asps series.  Another failed attack on Jim’s ranch…this time without a shot being fired.  Enjoy and have a great day.

m.j.

 

While Jim and Hector joked about flying, Fugleman sent his team forward, but he held back at one of the trees near the edge of the incline from the car park.  Bruce had everyone at the ranch spread out at various locations.  They watched with night vision gear—also being worn by the attacking force—as the would-be attacking group made its way slowly toward the main ranch house. 

When they were about halfway from the car park to the house, Bruce shook his head.  “These guys all seem to move like military.  Sure hope they aren’t our guys, but I’ve a feeling they are.”

Dusty, also on Jim and Holly’s veranda with Bruce and Holly, nodded.  “Yeah, I’d bet they’re military.  We gonna give ‘em a chance to give up, Bruce?”

“Oh, sure.  But one chance only…then we take them out.  You see the one guy holding way back, just above the car park?”

Boris answered, “Yes…and I can tell you who it is.  A former Stassi officer—not too bad at his job by the way…but a butcher.  Name’s Hans Fugleman.”

Just as Bruce was about to reply, he grunted, “Damn and damn.  I know one of those guys.  Okay, I’ve a feeling they have been told some crock of crap.  Let’s do everything we can to capture rather than kill.  Okay, folks, off with our vision gear—I’m gonna turn the lights on down there.”

Everyone who belonged on the ranch soon had their night vision gear taken off, so they wouldn’t be blinded when Bruce put on the several banks of spotlights, as well as other lights to light up the area where the intruders were.  When he did toss the switch for the various lights, the men with Fugleman were instantly blinded.  They were quickly ripping off their own night vision gear.  Fugleman, further back, was also blinded, but not to the extent of his men.  In no time he had his own gear removed.  His sight came back to him much faster than the others.

There was a speaker system in the middle of where the attackers were.  Bruce growled into the microphone attached to it, “Freeze.  You are in the middle of a claymore mine field.  I push the remote button controlling it…you’ll all die where you stand.  Sleepy Houser, this is Sergeant Major Edmonds—now retired—and with CIA.  Tell your friends they best do as told.  I don’t know what you’ve all been told about the man you’ve come to kill, but it was a load of horseshit.  Fugleman, the man who brought you here, is, as I speak, headed down the embankment where he stood to the cars below.  I’m sure by the time you all regain full use of your eyes, you will realize he’s gone.”

Hans Fugleman heard little of what was being said, because as soon as the lights came on, he knew the frontal attack was now ruined.  He opted to flee while he could.  As soon as he got down to the cars, he got in one, made a fast U-turn, then headed back to Billings, with no thought about the men he was leaving behind.

The man furtherest from the house, in just a bit less light, laid down his weapon.  He turned just in time to see the car making the U-turn.  He shouted out, “Damned Schneider just split guys—or whatever in the hell his name is.”

Sleepy Houser, a retired Army Special Forces First Sergeant, raised his voice to be heard by all, “Hey, guys, Sergeant Major Edmonds is cool—he taught me everything I know.”

Those two reports soon had the entire attack team putting their weapons on the ground very gently.  A few had looked over their surroundings carefully.  Some had spotted a few of the claymore mines.  They reported the fact even as they put their weapons down.  When all the weapons were on the ground, Bruce muttered, “Okay guys…good move.  We could tell by your movements all or most of you were military.  I sure didn’t want to kill any of my own.  I can only guess what load of crap Fugleman passed out to you, but the guy you came to kill is named Jim Scott, in case you weren’t given his name.  He’s a retired Marine Major…also former CIA.  He’s a billionaire—that’s billionaire, with a ‘bee.’  Best damn guy I ever worked with—sorry about that, Sleepy.  But this guy is the top of the line…one hundred percent loyal to the flag.”

Sleepy nodded, “Your word is good enough for me, Sergeant Major.”

The rest of the men were soon nodding, as Bruce smiled.  “Thanks…for those kind words.  I won’t tell your friends where the name ‘Sleepy’ came from.”  He added, “Okay, here’s the drill.  Sleepy, you and the two most senior men pick up your weapons.  Head on up here.  Er…you might make me a happy man by unloading them on your way.  The rest of you gather around in the middle of the light field.  Unload your weapons, too, please.  I’ll dim the lights so you aren’t blinded by them.  I know how bright they are down there, even with your night vision gear off.”

Soon Sleepy, with two other men, were headed toward the house…with empty weapons.  As they walked, the rest of the attack unit gathered where they had been told to.  They had their weapons unloaded before the three moving forward reached the house.  By the time those three reached a point about ten feet back from the veranda, Bruce had dimmed most of the lights, but those in the huddle near the middle of the lights and claymore mines could still be clearly seen. Bruce looked down at Sleepy and his two companions.  “Okay, guys, here’s what I think should happen.  Since you’re now out of a job, we’ll offer a bit of assistance.  I hate to see fellow vets in a bind.  We’ve got three planes here, so you can keep your weapons.  They’re your personal weapons I assume?”

Sleepy answered, “Yeah, in most cases…the others just picked up some freebies.”

Bruce nodded.  “Okay then…let’s see.  Janet, how many can you take to L.A.?”

 

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