Nashville SEAL: Jameson: Nashville SEALs (23 page)

The reality of seeing the winery look like a burned out hulk he’d seen in Somalia or Djibouti sent a chill down his spine. Zak had said something about casualties, but he put it out of his mind. It was a thought he just refused to grasp.

He called Zak. “Any word?” Jameson could hear the crack of rifle fire echoing in the background.

“You get that?”

“Yea. So it’s not settled.”

“They got active shooters, Jameson. The police and rescue can’t get to them. I didn’t bring my long gun, but then, why would I think I’d need it?”

“Guess we need to pack 24/7 now.”

“Amen to that. This is the last day I go off unprepared. Anywhere.” Zak’s voice was wavering.

“Well I did.” After a pause, Jameson continued. “They have survivors coming out?” He didn’t want to know, but he had to ask anyway.

“Some.”

That word was hopeful at least. Some had made it out.

“They are keeping me in place so I can give them surveillance. Don’t think the bad guys know I’m here. But I’m giving them reports. I’m not to interfere. I want to be here, no matter what. And you know what I’d do if—”

“Roger that. Okay, we’re coming up on the exit now. Talk to you in a few.”

“Later.”

Nick was careful to maneuver around rubbernecking drivers who were not paying attention to where they were on the road or who was around them. They turned off at the exit, then drove under the freeway to the large gates of the winery a few hundred yards away. A cruiser was blocking the entrance to the parking lot. There were white tents set up already as triage units, at least six fire crews, about a dozen ambulances, and a coronor’s van. Highway Patrol units attempted to shut down the frontage roads in either direction, either to stop someone’s escape or impede anyone who wanted to join in.

Nick rolled down his window to address the Sheriff.

“Our ladies are up there. Were attending the function.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but this isn’t a secure crime scene yet. Hate to have to tell you, we still got a couple shooters we’re looking for.

Jameson leaned over. “Sheriff, I’m a Navy SEAL, and I qualified expert on anything you can throw at me. Zak here is former. We can definitely help.”

“Son, I wish it were up to me, but you got to stand down and let us do our job.”

Jameson had always respected the difficult work law enforcement had to do every day, but he wasn’t going to let this man keep him out of the fight to protect his women. He took a deep breath and before he could shout something out, Nick gripped his knee, telling him to stop.

“We thank you. Can you tell us how many there are?”

“Not sure yet. We got a couple dead, but we’re taking fire, so we don’t have them all.”

“I’d be happy to go in to pick up the wounded. Seconds can count,” Jameson offered.

He could tell the Sheriff wanted to let them in, but wasn’t going to lose his job over it. He shook his head. “I’ve got my orders. Best if you go on over to the shoulder before they close it across the freeway. You can see more than I can see here, if that’s any consolation.”

Nick turned the truck around as if he was going to follow the Sheriff’s instructions, but headed instead for the Frog Haven winery.

“Where are you going?”

“I got a back way. Devon and I explored it one afternoon. One of the workers said Zapparelli used to come over to watch what they were doing, and he came from some place where the two properties joined. I got to find it.”

They drove down the driveway, past the house, through the vineyards on the south side, which is where the adjoining property was located. They nearly bottomed out on a creekside gully, and then headed up the hill a few hundred yards. The path had been well worn. At last they came to a gate.

“Sonofabitch,” Jameson said.

“Just hope it doesn’t come out some place too obvious.”

They came to a ridgeline with a perfect view of the winery site below.

“Can you get me closer, over there?” Jameson pointed to a small swale between where they were parked and the delivery entrance on the back side.

Nick drove slowly so he wouldn’t be detected. The vines were a good barrier, still full and green, just beginning to turn. They had the perfect cover.

“Here.”

Jameson brought out his bag and set up his .300 Win Mag. On his belly, he used the scope to survey what was going on down below. He figured they were about five hundred yards out. If he caught a bad guy it would be easy to take him out from this distance. Nick took out his Mk-11 but didn’t site it.

“Nick?” Jameson asked as he adjusted his scope.

“Yup?”

“Give old Zak a call and ask him if they have any snipers watching these guys.”

“Will do.”

The word came back the squad hadn’t arrived yet. “And he says the last he saw the girls, they were headed to the kitchen.”

“Where the fuck is the kitchen? Looks like Mogadishu to me.” He scanned the area where one of the towers had been. It was the only place still burning, but had nearly half the first floor still intact. The roof was entirely gone where the tower had been, but the side buildings still had cover on them. Several areas were constructed with walls of cinder block. He knew if anyone could survive that blast, they’d have to be near or behind those walls.

Jameson caught action coming from what used to be the pool area. Law enforcement was being held back by gunmen on the huge bank of stairs. The parking lot was the equivalent of two stories below with the shooters protecting the site. They could also protect the approach to the delivery area, so the exchange of gunfire was mostly useless, Jameson could see. He sure hoped someone had thought to order a chopper.

“How many do you see?” asked Nick.

“I got three at the top behind the concrete railing. They’re pretty hidden by bushes. No way anyone’s going to get up there.”

“Wonder how some of the crowd got out.”

Jameson scanned a pathway leading from a patio off what he remembered as the dining area. That would make the kitchen nearby. Upon closer inspection, there was another man dressed in black at the top of the pathway.

“Shit,” he said when he realized the triage units were too close. “He could pick them off under those tents. They’re up to something. Wonder why they’re waiting.”

One of the ambulances left the parking lot, its sirens blazing. He searched the area for evidence of others to be sure he could pick the guy off without interference. His stomach churned as he could see several bodies of all sizes, but nothing that moved, and no one he recognized. The place was covered in blood. He was trained to deal with such a view, but knowing he might see one of his girls there made it nearly impossible to focus. He pulled away and sat up, taking deep breaths.

“You okay?”

“A lot of carnage down there. Nothing I see is alive. But I don’t recognize anyone either.” He took several deep breaths. “I have a plan, just not sure it’s wise, so you tell me if you’re in or out.”

“Okay.”

“First, we tell Zak what we’re doing. Where the hell is he, exactly?”

“Let’s keep him on the phone with us. You tell us both.”

Nick lay the cell on the ground next to Jameson. “I’m up above the large retaining wall on the south side, and I see you guys,” said Zak. “I see two of the dudes sorting through debris in the restaurant.”

A couple of shots were fired. Return fire came from below. Jameson got back on his scope.

“Talk to me, Zak.”

“I think you know they found someone alive. But it wasn’t who they were looking for. They are most definitely looking for someone specific.”

“You try calling Amy?” Jameson asked.

“Goes right to voicemail.”

Jameson saw a single gunman walking behind the rotund figure of Mr. Marco Zapparelli himself.

“Shit, I think they just found who they were looking for.”

He watched as the director was lead to the ornate gate and white concrete railings.

“They’re gonna off him, Zak. Not sure I got an angle.” Jameson hated to wait and just watch the guy get executed, but the terrorists held the upper hand when it came to position. They’d done their research, Jameson noted. Nobody from down below could get to them in time.

“I think you’re his only chance. Take the shot if you can, Jameson,” replied Zak. “I’ll jump in. I’ll go when you tell me.”

“Nicky!” Jameson said slowly.

“Right here.” He’d taken position on his belly just a few feet away.

“Can you get one or two of those shooters on the railing?”

“I see three.”

“That’s what I count too. There’s one over on the south side by that wide service path. You see him?”

“Yup.”

“Eeny, meeny, miny, moe. You get one and two on the left, three if you can. I go for the bad guy behind Mr. Zapparelli, but he’ll use him as cover if he suspects, so we gotta do this on my mark. You ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Going for the whole enchilada, Zak. Get ready.”

“Roger that.”

“On my mark, three, two, one.”

Jameson’s shot was perfect, exploding the head of the gunman guiding the director. At the same time, he heard two other shots in succession as Nick hit the first shooter, missed the second, but got him with his third shot at the same time Jameson took out the shooter near the service path. Nick followed the third shooter as he turned and started firing wildly, aiming down at the police below, and they up towards their spot. Inhaling first, like they’d been trained to do, then exhaling, he shot the man in the chest and he fell.

They waited. Zak squawked into the phone, “I better call them.”

“Not sure it’s clear, but you do that so they know we did the shooting.”

Zak hung up. Jameson kept his scope on the bloody former restaurant area. Now he could see the layout of the place and recalled the beautiful dinner they’d had overlooking the vineyards below. The scene before him was never anything he’d anticipated.

All of a sudden, a desperate scream filled the whole valley, coming from the area he now recognized as the remnants of the kitchen. He adjusted his scope and saw a man holding a bloody hand to his chest and running into what had been the open air former restaurant. holding a bloody hand. Jameson aimed for the hand, and the round went clear through it and the shooter’s body as he dropped.

He knew someone was alive in that concrete box. He had no reason to hope, but if she’d been smart, Lizzie might have figured to take refuge there. He certainly hoped so.

But his stomach dropped as he saw another explosion below. He couldn’t find any shooters. Nick had already put the call into Zak.

“Get down there and check out that box. Someone’s alive in there. If they survived, that’s where they’ll be.”

“Roger that.”

Jameson watched Zak tear down the side of the hill, tripping and somersaulting through the landscaping, finally ending at the remnants of the building. Jameson hoped he hadn’t lost his phone, but was rewarded when he heard Zak’s heavy breathing.

“Atta boy,” Jameson whispered more to himself than anyone else.

Zak stayed to the walls, carefully searching and disappeared into the kitchen structure, which was now obscured by smoke from the blast.

Then Jameson heard the best news he’d had in years.

“Holy shit, Jameson. They’re okay. The girls are okay, except for the fact that—”

“Give me that.” Lizzie’s voice was snarly and irritated, but he loved everything about it. “We’re here, but Jameson, I’ve peed my pants.”

‡

A
large table
was created from sheets of plywood on sawhorses. It was covered with an array of colorful tablecloths. A clump of nearly twenty white pillars were flickering in the center. Two bouquets of roses were positioned at each end of the table. The full moon shone down on Sophie’s Choice Winery and the collection of heroes and their ladies dining there tonight.

The harvest feast was a celebration of all sorts of events. All twelve of Kyle’s squad, plus wives and girlfriends, Nick and Devon and Zak and Amy all sat around and drank way more wine than they should have.

“To Frog Haven Vineyards,” Kyle announced, standing. Glasses were clinked and kissing couples were separated to participate in the obligatory toast.

“To a successful mission, and Jameson’s first,” said Cooper.

Marco Zapparelli stepped from the porch with a big bowl of pasta. His shirt was stained red and his sleeves were rolled up. His beefy arms set the huge bowl on the table.

“To good neighbors,” Zak toasted. Zapparelli bowed and got applause. He sat on a chair made out of recycled wine barrels, at the head of the table.

“You know, I could be your consultant, for a small percentage of the operation,” he said to the audience.

Everyone stopped eating and drinking and looked at him. He shrugged. “Okay, I could help you out of the goodness of my heart. No charge.”

He got another round of applause.

Amy grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “We’re grateful to have you.”

“You know,” Zapparelli began, “I’ve been thinking about this film. It involves a bunch of Navy SEALs who decide to go to wine country and in the process meet a famous director and kill a bunch of terrorists. Don’t you think that’s a catchy plot?”