Dark Coup (28 page)

“May have cracked the man,” Diego replied.

…

“Thirty thousand gallons,” Mallory said and then muttered a thank-you prayer under her breath.

“And all of it JP-8,” Diego said, “so we don’t have to worry about the Hawks for the time being.”

“That frees up a fair amount of the petrol diesel for farm work,” Mallory said.  “Not that we’re going to lift the restrictions on fuel any time soon.  Like you said, the helicopters
need
the JP-8.  We’re lucky we have so many multi-fuel vehicles though.  We could probably run them on transmission fluid if we had to…not that we have much of that either.”

“We have enough for what we have planned, though,” Ben said.  “That was the whole point of this raid and we got everything we needed, and then some.”

Mallory nodded.  “What else can you tell us about the base defenses,” she asked, “and the defenders in general?”

“They didn’t act that thrilled to be there,” Nichols said.  “I kept telling Diego that the defense, while fairly well organized was, well it was half-hearted.  The base commander, Tippets was his name, wouldn’t say a word once we found him, other than to call off his troops over the base PA system.  I was half tempted to grab his dog tags because he wasn’t even giving the old name, rank, and service number line.”

“Tippets,” Ben said and closed his eyes.  “I know that name, but where from?”

“Most likely he’s either from Bragg, Mackall or Stewart,” Nichols said.

“Lieutenant,” Ben asked.

“Captain,” Nichols replied.

“That could have been yet another one of those field promotions,” Mallory said.  “From the sounds of it, Olsen’s been handing those out like candy.”

“I want to say he’s from Mackall,” Ben said.  “If he was, then there’s a good chance we could have a back-door relationship with the base.”

“Are you thinking of anything specific,” Mallory asked.

“No,” Ben said, “just trying to keep our options open and put everything on the table.”

“Let’s not count our chickens before they’ve hatched,” Mallory said.

Ben shook his head.  “I’m not,” he said, “believe me.  I guess deep down I’d just really like to get my base back.”

“One thing at a time,” Mallory said. 

Chapter Twenty-Eight

The plan was simple on its face…fly into an unknown area without having previously ascertained the loyalty of the troops on the ground, attempt to land, con them out of fuel, gather any intelligence they could, and then leave.  Oh, and if they could not get blown out of the sky in the process that would be great.

Diego might respect Majors Franklin and Jensen for what they were doing–defying the Colonel and keeping the torch lit, and all that–but they had obviously never planned many, if any, air missions.

Diego had insisted that wherever and whenever possible, each leg of their trip would be no more than six-hundred miles, so that they would always have enough fuel to make it back to somewhere “friendly” to refuel.  They were currently approaching Randolph Air Force Base, just north of San Antonio, Texas, after being in the air for a little less than four hours.  They were coming in from the north to mask their original heading, but Diego was fairly sure that if the base had power they had already been painted, or at least hit with passive radar.

“Eagle flight,” Diego said over the radio, “let me do the talking.”

After a half-a-dozen affirmatives, Diego waited for the radio, the radar, or both, to come alive.

…

“Inbound lawn darts,” the base radio operator said.  “State your intentions and maintain your present heading at four-thousand feet.  Hold station in fifteen klicks.”

“Lawn darts,”
Diego laughed to himself. 
“I haven’t heard these things called that in a long time.  At least it sounds like the Air Force is still in charge down there.”

“Wilco,” Diego replied.  “Can you get the head zoomie on the horn?”

“My birds, however, do
not
fall out of the sky, thank you very much,”
Diego thought.

“You Army or Navy,” the operator on the other end asked, not taking obvious offense to the epithet that had identified Diego as
not
being in the Air Force.  “Not that it matters.”

“Army,” Diego said.

“Hold one.”

…

“This is Major Dunkin.  Who are you, and did Colonel Tweed send you down,” a new voice demanded.  “Never mind, maybe I should just shoot you down now and when you don’t make it back Tweed will get the picture.  We’re not playing ball!”

“Negative, Sir,” Diego said as soon as the line was clear.  Dying before they made useful contact with the first base really wasn’t his idea of a great way to end the day.  “I have no idea who Colonel Tweed is.”

“Well, you’re coming from his general direction, son,” Major Dunkin replied.

“In my defense, Sir,” Diego said, “I’m coming from the general direction of quite a lot.”

“I’ll give you that,” Dunkin said.  “Maintain your current heading and speed.  Follow the instructions we give you and maybe you can land and we can have a chat.  The radar is coming on now.  If we sense so much as a
garage door opener
being used on your birds you can kiss your butt goodbye.  Do I make myself clear?”

“As glass, Sir,” Diego said.

…

The last fifteen minutes had been some of the most nerve-wracking stick time Diego had ever experienced.  Usually in hostile territory you expected to encounter enemy radar and then maneuver to evade and prevent them getting a lock on you.  Even the situation around Natchez Trace hadn’t been this bad, because at least he’d known where the people on the ground stood in relation to their own Colonel.

This Dunkin character, he was a complete unknown.  He hadn’t just painted all of Diego’s birds, he’d had multiple active locks on every single one, and the threat indicator had been going nuts.  Diego had wanted nothing more than to turn tail and run, with every fiber of his being, but within a minute they were so far inside the radar envelope that none of them would have survived.

Now they were setting down inside a secured perimeter and it looked like Dunkin still wasn’t taking any chances.  There were guards everywhere, and at least a dozen .50 mini guns trained on his birds.

“At least they’re taking us seriously as a threat,” Diego said to his crew chief.

…

“No weapons,” Lieutenant Glass said as he ‘greeted’ Diego and his group.

“Not a chance,” Diego replied.

“You aren’t going any further armed,” Glass said.

“Fine,” Diego said.  “We’ll sit right here.  We aren’t disarming.  We’ve done everything you’ve said up to this point, but just like I’m not leaving the Hawks unattended, I’m not surrendering my sidearm.  And neither is anyone else.”

Glass was obviously gritting his teeth when he said, “Wait here.”

“We’re outnumbered fifty to one,” his crew chief muttered.  “It isn’t like we’re going to take over the base.”

“No,” Diego said, “but any one of us could take out the Major fairly easily and they know it.  It’s the principle, though, and they know that too.”

Glass came back a minute later, accompanied by a tall, balding, red-faced officer who had obviously lost a
lot
of weight over the last year.

“Just what do you mean,” Dunkin said, starting out loud and obviously planning to end with a yell, “disobeying an order.”

Diego looked around, checked behind him and then pointed at himself.  “Me,” he asked.  “You aren’t in my chain-of-command.”

“I landed at your base by invitation,” Diego made a bit of a face, “okay, at gunpoint, but before the missiles had a lock I could have left at any time.  I’m here because I want to be here, not because
you
want me to be here.  You don’t give me orders…
sir
.”  The fact that the sir wasn’t capitalized was obvious.

“And just why
are
you here,” Dunkin asked, “if the Colonel didn’t send you.”

Diego was extremely aware of the number of guns pointed his direction and blocking the way between his men and his birds.  “To find out how you’re getting along,” he said, “and what’s really going on out here in the rest of the country.”

Dunkin frowned at Diego as he thought about that for several seconds.

“You,” Dunkin pointed at Diego, “and three others can come with me.  The rest will be taken to the mess where they can at least sit down on something that isn’t moving and get something to drink.”

At the questioning look on Diego’s face, Dunkin nodded.  “You can keep your side arms,” he said.

…

“Where are you from,” Dunkin asked, “why are you here, and what do you want?”

“In that order,” Diego asked.

Dunkin shrugged.  “As long as you answer all three,” he said.

“We’re from further east,” Diego started.  “Home has changed for us recently due to circumstances similar to your own.  We really are trying to find out what the situation is around the rest of the country, what’s
really
going on, and not just what’s being fed to us by some self-appointed regional commander.”

Diego paused for a few seconds before he continued.  He’d already said more than he had initially planned to, based on how things were playing out.

“As for the third question,” Diego said, “
I
need some answers first.”

“You haven’t given me much to go on, Son,” Dunkin said.

“And you haven’t given me
anything
, Sir,” Diego replied.

Dunkin sighed.  “Fair enough,” he said.  “Colonel Tweed has all but declared himself Supreme Military Overlord of the Southwest.  There were some orders that came down a little less than a year ago.  ARCLiTE.  Supposedly from Central Command.  Seemed legitimate at the time, especially since he’d authenticated with the President’s own call-sign and counter authentications.”

Dunkin shook his head.  “Since then,” he said, “things have gone downhill fast.  The Constitution’s out the window.  We’ve had over three-dozen Guard and Reserve units ‘disappear’ under
very
suspicious circumstances, and the Colonel is instituting more and more heavy-handed restrictions and laws.”

Dunkin’s eyes narrowed and he set his jaw as he looked at Diego from across his desk.  “I’ve shot three men in the last six months for espionage and sabotage, Son,” he said.  “As much as I would have liked to give them a court-martial, I couldn’t, and I wasn’t about to run the risk of them getting away to cause more trouble.  So, what do you want?”

“Allies,” Diego said.

…

“Completely trustworthy,” Dunkin said.

“But you said I could test them all,”
Diego thought to himself.

Dunkin nodded and went into the room with the fourth candidate.

“Airman,” Diego said.

“Chief,” the Airman replied, surprising Diego that he knew an Army Chief Warrant Officer rank from a hole in the ground.

“I just have a couple of questions for you,” Diego said, without sitting down.  “First, how long have you been in contact with Colonel Tweed?”

“Excuse me,” the Airman said and started to get up.

Diego pulled his side-arm but didn’t point it at the Airman, not yet.  “Sit down,” he said.  “I’m not done and I have the full backing of the Major right now, so answer the question.”

“I’ve never been in contact with the Colonel,” the Airman said and the look of disgust and pure hatred on his face was almost enough to convince Diego.  “He’s guilty of treason and his body should be hung out for the buzzards.  I don’t know where he’s getting his orders from, but regardless, he’s broken his oath, and for that alone in this time of crisis he should be shot!”

Diego holstered his weapon.  “Good enough for me,” he said.  “The Major will tell you where to go and I’ll meet you there in a few minutes.”

Instead of shaking Diego’s offered hand the Airman swung a roundhouse that Diego was only partially able to dodge and that would leave his jaw bruised and sore for a week.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve coming in here and accusing me of…” the Airman said.

“And the Major has already shot three moles in the last six months,” Diego said, rubbing his jaw.

The look on the Airman’s face said he hadn’t been aware of the moles.

“And what I’m going to be telling you is sensitive enough,” Diego continued, “that I can’t take
any
chances.  It’s even worth getting sucker punched.”

Diego worked his jaw.  “Which won’t happen again, by the way,” he said.

…

“So, Airman,” Diego said to the last candidate.  “How long have you been in contact with Colonel Tweed, and how did his last orders change now that Dunkin is executing the traitors?”  Diego had no idea why he had changed up his script, but he’d gotten bored after fourteen interviews so he figured he’d toss this guy a curveball.

Instead of outrage and an immediate protestation of innocence, this last one narrowed his eyes.  “How do you know the orders have changed,” the Airman replied.

Diego couldn’t keep the look of surprise off his face and the Airman realized he’d been had.  Diego barely got his side-arm out of his holster before the Airman was out of his seat and coming over the table at him.

They were wrestling for Diego’s .45 when the door flew open and three Air Force MPs stormed the room.

“
Drop it!
”  The lead MP shouted as all three trained their weapons on the Airman.  The struggle continued for a few seconds as he strained to point Diego’s pistol at the guard nearest him, but that ended as soon as an MP made his way behind him and slammed the butt of his M16 into the back of his head.

Major Dunkin came into the room after the struggle was over and Diego had holstered his .45.  “How did you know,” he asked.  “What made you ask him a different question?”

“Nothing,” Diego panted, trying to catch his breath.  “I was bored and tired of asking the same thing over and over again.  We got lucky–I got lucky.  Thank you.”

“Thank
you
,” Dunkin said.  “Heaven knows how many more there are, but maybe they’re the ones deserting. The rest of the group is in the room at the end of the hall.  I’ll meet you there in a few minutes.”