Over the course of my career I have encountered things that I cannot explain, things that are for lack of a better word ‘alien’ to me.
It was these experiences that drew the attention of a strange group, a government agency who claimed to specialise in this sort of thing. I was approached by a representative of this agency with the request to join in an exercise to test my abilities and aptitude for the group’s operations.
If I was to agree to their terms, I was to select for myself an alias starting with the letter ‘J’, a name to identify myself by, a name separate to my real world, I am Jude. Taken from the patron saint of lost Causes as those I have worked with over the years have often had that opinion of me. I am Jude.
Even with my history, I still seemed to require testing, I agreed to the terms of the assignment and before I knew it, I was already one of them.
It was the 19th November 1998,I had received my first mainline communication from the Group known as Delta Green. I had been summoned to an address in Boston, I was to meet with someone unknown to me regarding some sort of special assignment. The Trip from Miami was clear, no signs of incident or delay, I arrived in Boston at 0815, I was to make my way to 430, East First St, South Boston by 0900, where the meeting was to take place.
I took a cab from the airport, arriving on East First street at approx. 0845, I sat in the cab a block down from the address given to me, the outside weather was cold, a far cry from the temperatures I am used to experiencing down south, it was about 3-4 degrees Celsius, the industrial area I found myself in was already bustling with activity of workmen and alike, all of them seemed relatively acclimatized by the bitter chill in the air.
As the time for the meeting came closer a second cab pulled up a block further down the road, its passenger exiting the car, a lean man, about 5’11, high forehead with heavy clothing and a ruck sack on his back. He slowly observed his surroundings and began walking slowly towards the address.
I also exited my cab, paying the fair and throwing my overnight bag over my shoulder, by jeans and jacket doing little to protect me from the elements, as long as my hands were warm in my gloves, that’s all I could think about, I didn’t know what I was walking into, I needed my hands ready, just in case.
Advancing on the address I met the strange man, he seemed as curious as to who I was as I of him. Exchanging mild pleasantries, my excuse of a meeting was as thin as his of meeting friends, both giving off the aura of agency types, I allowed him to advance first to the building. A large red brick warehouse, a large roller door at its centre with a small regular door to the right.
We entered the building, from the outside, it looked like an enclosed factory, from the inside, a different story, a derelict space, filled with scrap and junk. The curious sight for us however was the destroyed BMW car in the centre of the space. I emerged from behind the stranger to inspect the vehicle, my left hand never leaving the underside of my jacket, I didn’t know this man or these surroundings, my grip on my sidearm relentless.
He followed me, his curiosity clearly peaked by the vehicle also. Looking carefully, the BMW had been in a massive head on collision, its front end caved in and destroyed, what seemed amiss, there were no signs of what it had hit, no blood, no external scrapes, no dust or stone fragments, just the car. The interior was also destroyed, yet it was intact, someone had done a thorough clean on this car, inside and out, no finger prints, no dirt, no signs of anything, just a wreck.
I continued on through the empty warehouse, scanning the surroundings, in search of any signs of another person, it was clear to me that my compatriot was just as curious and ignorant as I was as to the situation.
Looking towards the back of the building, a room with glass windows and an open door revealed a table and chairs, a lone dark figure sitting and smoking. As the figure took my gaze a loud slamming of a door spun me on my heal, my sidearm all but pulled from my holster. At the entry way to the building, a man entered towing a large suitcase, his suite and fedora casting a peculiar shadow on the wall.
I called to him to identify himself, he only approached with no response, it was clear my fellow cab patron was equally as nervous, his hand also moving to his side, clearly carrying a sidearm of his own. I caught the glint of a 1911 tucked in a holster, far from standard issue, making me think he was also a fed of some kind.
The new entrant approached with a nod and removed a set of headphones from his ears, only asking if he was late.
Clearly not a threat, his British accent and soft spoken nature setting my mind at ease slightly as I turned my attention to the shadow at the table who had since risen and emerged from the room, his old, gaunt appearance barely concealing the slight limp he walked with, he summoned us to the table.
As I approached the table, on it resided a single ash tray, almost full to the brim with burnt cigarettes, and a black garbage bag, looking closer, some sort of folder resided within.
It was clear that everyone was nervous, although to my surprise, the Brit was the most forthcoming.
I kicked a chair away from the table and sat down, giving myself some distance from the others, the Brit sat next to the old man, the lean guy remained standing, leaning on the empty chair in front of him. A cool silence took over the air, no one wanted to talk. It was the old man who first broke the silence, asking us if we knew why we were here and what we bring to the table.
The lean man standing spoke first, his eyes darting from man to man, I think he was more concerned about someone drawing down on him. He explained that he believed we were all carrying and wanted to reassure everyone that there was no threat between strangers at the table, he also explained that he was also summoned here for a meeting and that he brought with him a solid fortitude and ability to kick in a door. The old man called him by name, my name, asking if he was Jude, to my surprise he replied, Jasper.
I then spoke, explaining I was Jude, I was summoned here and I bring with me a fast on the fly attitude and the ability to get the job done, no matter what.
The Brit followed, stating he was Jagger, as if a J name from England would be anything other than the name of a creepy old rock star with a big mouth. He then went into detail about himself, it was clear he was a nerd, medically trained, the only part of his explanation that took my interest was his claim to have taken part in Desert Storm.
The old man followed, Jason, he claimed to be, his tired eyes betraying a severe boredom for young blood and clearly a man with more knowledge than us on what we were to be doing here. He brought to the table a knowledge of history, occult and oddity. Something didn’t feel right, immediately making me think of the curious activity I had encountered in my past that defied explanation.
Jason went on to tell us of the rules, if we wanted in on this outfit, we were
to carry no government issue gear, no ties to our own lives, no friends or family complications, we were to be ghosts. Always have back up identities ready, always be prepared to leave everything in your possession and move on. Simple, it was a purely black bag operation, no traces, no witnesses.
He spoke at length about this, reiterating the same thing over and over, our lives were gone, our new lives of men with no names and no ties were to be who we are now, if we accepted the responsibility.
It was made clear however that there was no backup, if we get stuck, we are on our own, escape and evade being the operative concerns once things go bad. Another interesting topic, you do not lie to the group, we were now J Cell, there was to be trust without cause or proof, trust in all things.
Never do anything alone, another rule, there are no cowboys in this group, no heroes, when tailed, wait for counter tail before losing it, never go into a place without knowing how you are going to get out.
Shocked and surprised, the black plastic bag containing the folder slid across the table and made a deepening crash as it hit the floor. Jasper took a step back and instinctively, I went to draw my pistol without thinking, catching myself as my holster napped open.
Jagger stared at the bag, curiosity in his eyes. Jason instructed us to leave it, no one was to touch it. The more I observed him, Jasper to me seemed to be from a similar station to me, possible ex-military, his explanation of what he does blending with my own in terms of being a door kicker, some sort of tactical operative was my guess.
Jason went on to tell us of the operation we were here to conduct, a Russian orthodox school for children, four hostiles inside, two men and two women, one an old lady, one a young woman. They were to be neutralised, the old woman first, she was not allowed to speak. That was the directive, Jagger threw up much resistance, not sure if he was comfortable with the idea. I ignored him and asked very simply, are there children, are they in danger?
Yes, was the response, enough to cause my agreement with the op, Jasper too. We were in, we continued to ask what kind of danger, what kind of crime warranted termination, no answers came, only that it needed to be done.
Turning our attention back to Jagger, We noticed he had picked up the black bag containing the folder, Jason barked at him to put it down, just the touch of it had clearly shaken Jagger. He dropped it on the table immediately. Turning his attention back to myself and Jasper. He continued his briefing, Wayfairer’s Home for Children, Jasper and I were to retrieve some road maps from Jason’s car outside. We left Jagger and Jason to stew in their own juices, I thought it a prime opportunity to find out more about this guy,
Once out of earshot of the others, I started talking to Jasper, he was FBI, or so he claimed, Hostage Rescue. We were both edgy about the Brit, Jagger, he seemed a little, sheltered for this type of work. We thought that based on the information of two men and two women, we resigned myself to the fact that we may need to do all the heavy lifting, both of us being from backgrounds requiring that kind of work.
We located the road maps and headed back inside to find the Brit, white as a sheet, he had looked in the folder. Whatever reservations he had about what we were going to be doing, were gone.
Once we were all on the same page, Jason began telling us of what were known as Green Boxes, places where gear could be left and taken, s safe area used by the agency. Somewhere ID’s can be left and collected.
We were to travel to Springfield, about three hours away, then on to Pittsville, where the target was, pick up a second vehicle in Springfield and plan from there.
Jasper was to stick with me once we hit Springfield, definitely my preference, someone with a somewhat tactical background, we were tasked with locating a rally point and staging area for the operation.
The car ride to Springfield was painful, Jagger was blaring his rolling stones music, Jasper and I were in the back while Jason drove. I couldn’t help myself, I had to give him shit about it, I could tell that I would reduce him to water if left alone with him for too long.
Once in Springfield, Jason and Jagger were to look into the city records for plans regarding the structure we would be breaching, while they locate a second vehicle, Jasper and I were to begin studying the road maps for the fastest way to and from the target location.
We hit Springfield at about 1400, we dropped the two nerds off at city hall, Jason was going to swing his first fake Id of a real estate agent in order to get the building plans for the Children’s home, Jasper and I however had far more practical plans, we went for lunch.
Once we had eaten and picked up Jason and Jagger after retrieving blueprints, Jason drove us to the Springfield Green Box. E-Z Storage facility, a series of storage containers. As we headed down the lines, we were the only people in sight, entering the locker Jason pointed out, it was full of furniture from an old house with blankets everywhere, however upon removing one of the hanging cloths, a tunnel to the rear of the container emerged. We all moved through to reveal a treasure trove of contraband. My eyes however were drawn to the Glock 17 with loaded mags and the Remington Shotgun laying on a table in the centre of the space.
Jagger however let out a slight gasp, he all turned to see a severed head in a jar labelled ‘Hobo Head’, after checking my pants I regained composure. Walking around the space, there were books, buckets of keys, bottles of acid, assorted ammunition, the two firearms, medical kits, and a bottle of whisky with a note ‘compliments of J Cell’. This told me one thing, we were either the second J cell, or the first one is now gone, permanently.
We each took what we needed and began loading assorted items into the trunk of Jason’s car. Jagger took the acid, medical kits, the whisky and the Remington shotgun, probably the best weapon for someone who would most likely close their eyes to pull a trigger. Jasper retrieved some assorted ammunition, a large black fire axe and one or two other trinkets. Jason, the books, always the nerd, some sort of occult texts that were lost on me, along with a basic rifle scope that also resided on the table of arms.
I slung the glock around my shoulder, its fully loaded magazine and two spares hanging under my arms in a thick, old leather shoulder holster. I also took some zipties that lay about.
Before leaving we all removed our Government issue weapons and ID’s, each bagging them individually and placing them in hidden locations around the room. We would be back before leaving town I would guess. The only thing I kept on me, my body armour, under my clothing, my Kevlar slim vest, I wasn't taking that off, not so long as I am in the field.
Leaving the container, we dropped Jagger and Jason off to rent a van, a vehicle we had chosen as best means of quick entry and exit with the ability to blend in.
Jasper and I again rode together, discussing operational tactics, and sharing our concerns about the other two did seem to swing a little as Jagger’s sudden change of heart after looking at the inside of the folder.
We decided to begin looking for our staging area, looking at the large reserve about a 15 minute drive before the target house. It was a large reservoir, multiple exits and entrances, at night, the cover of the vegetation would completely conceal us. This was the spot, we continued on, deciding to do a drive by of the target area, we drove past the driveway of the target, the house was not visible, instead a long dirt driveway, we didn’t slow down, blending into the light traffic and continuing on a slight incline up the winding landscape. The house itself was hidden behind a dense woodland all around the property. If we were going to go in, it was going to be at night, through the woods, on foot. Not great considering the warning of guard dogs hanging from the semi destroyed mailbox.
We linked back up with the other two to find them with papers and maps in hand and driving an inconspicuous white van. The kind I had busted doing runs from Mexico across the border.
Jason gave us both a verbal for conducting a drive by, he was certain we should have gone there as a four-man team, not two.
We sat in our hotel, arranged by Jason, Jasper and I were on food duty, picking up a bag of grease to pass around.
The evening was quiet, we looked over the plans, a single storey house, no bigger than that you would find in suburbia, no room for children though, multiple entry points, multiple windows. This should be easy.
Jasper and I explained the surroundings, the property was dense, trees and woods on all sides, possible guard dogs.
Jagger spoke at that point, wanting to lace steak with sedative to incapacitate the dogs, I’d only ever seen it done in a movie, was worth a shot if we couldn’t go loud.
We dispersed for the night, Jason bunking with Jagger, me with Jasper. I collected all of our firearms for inspection as we knew we were going in within the next 24 hours. Our inventory consisted of, a Smith and Wesson 38 revolver that Jason never gave up, A Remington 12 gauge pump action shotgun, my Glock 17 9mm, an old Remington 700 hunting rifle in 30-06, ideal for hunting in these parts and an Ithica 12 gauge pump action shotgun. The Ithica and 30-06 came from the trunk of Jason’s car.
I cleaned and oiled everything, Jason was to carry his pistol and the rifle, Jagger the Remington 12guage, Jasper the Ithica and myself the Glock, not that I felt under armed, I knew I could take anyone on with less than that.
The morning was quiet, we headed to the local home depot, it was clear to us, no traces. I bought boxes of latex gloves, balaclavas, basic work boots, everyone gave me their sizes and some cash, and some heavy duty sandwich bags. It was my intention to tie one around my gun hand, no traces, if I had to fire the Glock, the shell casing would remain in the bag.
We left for the reservoir around lunch time, we needed to show the nerds the staging area, they agreed it was a good spot. As the sun began to set, we decided two vehicles, one short of the driveway, the other past it, we would park and meet on foot across the road from the entrance and head in on foot.
The plan went smoothly, vehicles parked, everyone wearing their protective gear, darkness had fallen and we moved in.
We scurried across the road, moving quickly into the cover of the woods, Jason had taken point, he had brought Night Vision goggles, only one pair, so he was to lead with them.
It wasn’t long before I saw it, I told everyone to freeze, long rusty steel spikes protruded from the ground. It looked like a long series at least 20 feet long of 6" nails, semi concealed in the dark, the glint of the steel catching my eye in the moonlight.
Once we had successfully navigated the spikes, we moving along a slight incline to a small ridge looking over the house. However we were met by more troubling sight. It was cold, really cold, we gazed down upon at least a dozen children barely clothed dancing and running around. Two extra buildings had been constructed, a shed to the far right and a small cottage between the house and the shed.
It was these experiences that drew the attention of a strange group, a government agency who claimed to specialise in this sort of thing. I was approached by a representative of this agency with the request to join in an exercise to test my abilities and aptitude for the group’s operations.If I was to agree to their terms, I was to select for myself an alias starting with the letter ‘J’, a name to identify myself by, a name separate to my real world, I am Jude. Taken from the patron saint of lost Causes as those I have worked with over the years have often had that opinion of me. I am Jude.
Even with my history, I still seemed to require testing, I agreed to the terms of the assignment and before I knew it, I was already one of them.
It was the 19th November 1998,I had received my first mainline communication from the Group known as Delta Green. I had been summoned to an address in Boston, I was to meet with someone unknown to me regarding some sort of special assignment. The Trip from Miami was clear, no signs of incident or delay, I arrived in Boston at 0815, I was to make my way to 430, East First St, South Boston by 0900, where the meeting was to take place.
I took a cab from the airport, arriving on East First street at approx. 0845, I sat in the cab a block down from the address given to me, the outside weather was cold, a far cry from the temperatures I am used to experiencing down south, it was about 3-4 degrees Celsius, the industrial area I found myself in was already bustling with activity of workmen and alike, all of them seemed relatively acclimatized by the bitter chill in the air.
As the time for the meeting came closer a second cab pulled up a block further down the road, its passenger exiting the car, a lean man, about 5’11, high forehead with heavy clothing and a ruck sack on his back. He slowly observed his surroundings and began walking slowly towards the address.
I also exited my cab, paying the fair and throwing my overnight bag over my shoulder, by jeans and jacket doing little to protect me from the elements, as long as my hands were warm in my gloves, that’s all I could think about, I didn’t know what I was walking into, I needed my hands ready, just in case.
Advancing on the address I met the strange man, he seemed as curious as to who I was as I of him. Exchanging mild pleasantries, my excuse of a meeting was as thin as his of meeting friends, both giving off the aura of agency types, I allowed him to advance first to the building. A large red brick warehouse, a large roller door at its centre with a small regular door to the right.We entered the building, from the outside, it looked like an enclosed factory, from the inside, a different story, a derelict space, filled with scrap and junk. The curious sight for us however was the destroyed BMW car in the centre of the space. I emerged from behind the stranger to inspect the vehicle, my left hand never leaving the underside of my jacket, I didn’t know this man or these surroundings, my grip on my sidearm relentless.
He followed me, his curiosity clearly peaked by the vehicle also. Looking carefully, the BMW had been in a massive head on collision, its front end caved in and destroyed, what seemed amiss, there were no signs of what it had hit, no blood, no external scrapes, no dust or stone fragments, just the car. The interior was also destroyed, yet it was intact, someone had done a thorough clean on this car, inside and out, no finger prints, no dirt, no signs of anything, just a wreck.
I continued on through the empty warehouse, scanning the surroundings, in search of any signs of another person, it was clear to me that my compatriot was just as curious and ignorant as I was as to the situation.
Looking towards the back of the building, a room with glass windows and an open door revealed a table and chairs, a lone dark figure sitting and smoking. As the figure took my gaze a loud slamming of a door spun me on my heal, my sidearm all but pulled from my holster. At the entry way to the building, a man entered towing a large suitcase, his suite and fedora casting a peculiar shadow on the wall.
I called to him to identify himself, he only approached with no response, it was clear my fellow cab patron was equally as nervous, his hand also moving to his side, clearly carrying a sidearm of his own. I caught the glint of a 1911 tucked in a holster, far from standard issue, making me think he was also a fed of some kind.
The new entrant approached with a nod and removed a set of headphones from his ears, only asking if he was late.
Clearly not a threat, his British accent and soft spoken nature setting my mind at ease slightly as I turned my attention to the shadow at the table who had since risen and emerged from the room, his old, gaunt appearance barely concealing the slight limp he walked with, he summoned us to the table.
As I approached the table, on it resided a single ash tray, almost full to the brim with burnt cigarettes, and a black garbage bag, looking closer, some sort of folder resided within.
It was clear that everyone was nervous, although to my surprise, the Brit was the most forthcoming.
I kicked a chair away from the table and sat down, giving myself some distance from the others, the Brit sat next to the old man, the lean guy remained standing, leaning on the empty chair in front of him. A cool silence took over the air, no one wanted to talk. It was the old man who first broke the silence, asking us if we knew why we were here and what we bring to the table.
The lean man standing spoke first, his eyes darting from man to man, I think he was more concerned about someone drawing down on him. He explained that he believed we were all carrying and wanted to reassure everyone that there was no threat between strangers at the table, he also explained that he was also summoned here for a meeting and that he brought with him a solid fortitude and ability to kick in a door. The old man called him by name, my name, asking if he was Jude, to my surprise he replied, Jasper.
I then spoke, explaining I was Jude, I was summoned here and I bring with me a fast on the fly attitude and the ability to get the job done, no matter what.
The Brit followed, stating he was Jagger, as if a J name from England would be anything other than the name of a creepy old rock star with a big mouth. He then went into detail about himself, it was clear he was a nerd, medically trained, the only part of his explanation that took my interest was his claim to have taken part in Desert Storm.
The old man followed, Jason, he claimed to be, his tired eyes betraying a severe boredom for young blood and clearly a man with more knowledge than us on what we were to be doing here. He brought to the table a knowledge of history, occult and oddity. Something didn’t feel right, immediately making me think of the curious activity I had encountered in my past that defied explanation.
Jason went on to tell us of the rules, if we wanted in on this outfit, we were
to carry no government issue gear, no ties to our own lives, no friends or family complications, we were to be ghosts. Always have back up identities ready, always be prepared to leave everything in your possession and move on. Simple, it was a purely black bag operation, no traces, no witnesses.He spoke at length about this, reiterating the same thing over and over, our lives were gone, our new lives of men with no names and no ties were to be who we are now, if we accepted the responsibility.
It was made clear however that there was no backup, if we get stuck, we are on our own, escape and evade being the operative concerns once things go bad. Another interesting topic, you do not lie to the group, we were now J Cell, there was to be trust without cause or proof, trust in all things.
Never do anything alone, another rule, there are no cowboys in this group, no heroes, when tailed, wait for counter tail before losing it, never go into a place without knowing how you are going to get out.
Shocked and surprised, the black plastic bag containing the folder slid across the table and made a deepening crash as it hit the floor. Jasper took a step back and instinctively, I went to draw my pistol without thinking, catching myself as my holster napped open.
Jagger stared at the bag, curiosity in his eyes. Jason instructed us to leave it, no one was to touch it. The more I observed him, Jasper to me seemed to be from a similar station to me, possible ex-military, his explanation of what he does blending with my own in terms of being a door kicker, some sort of tactical operative was my guess.
Jason went on to tell us of the operation we were here to conduct, a Russian orthodox school for children, four hostiles inside, two men and two women, one an old lady, one a young woman. They were to be neutralised, the old woman first, she was not allowed to speak. That was the directive, Jagger threw up much resistance, not sure if he was comfortable with the idea. I ignored him and asked very simply, are there children, are they in danger?
Yes, was the response, enough to cause my agreement with the op, Jasper too. We were in, we continued to ask what kind of danger, what kind of crime warranted termination, no answers came, only that it needed to be done.
Turning our attention back to Jagger, We noticed he had picked up the black bag containing the folder, Jason barked at him to put it down, just the touch of it had clearly shaken Jagger. He dropped it on the table immediately. Turning his attention back to myself and Jasper. He continued his briefing, Wayfairer’s Home for Children, Jasper and I were to retrieve some road maps from Jason’s car outside. We left Jagger and Jason to stew in their own juices, I thought it a prime opportunity to find out more about this guy,
Once out of earshot of the others, I started talking to Jasper, he was FBI, or so he claimed, Hostage Rescue. We were both edgy about the Brit, Jagger, he seemed a little, sheltered for this type of work. We thought that based on the information of two men and two women, we resigned myself to the fact that we may need to do all the heavy lifting, both of us being from backgrounds requiring that kind of work.
We located the road maps and headed back inside to find the Brit, white as a sheet, he had looked in the folder. Whatever reservations he had about what we were going to be doing, were gone.
Once we were all on the same page, Jason began telling us of what were known as Green Boxes, places where gear could be left and taken, s safe area used by the agency. Somewhere ID’s can be left and collected.
We were to travel to Springfield, about three hours away, then on to Pittsville, where the target was, pick up a second vehicle in Springfield and plan from there.
Jasper was to stick with me once we hit Springfield, definitely my preference, someone with a somewhat tactical background, we were tasked with locating a rally point and staging area for the operation.
The car ride to Springfield was painful, Jagger was blaring his rolling stones music, Jasper and I were in the back while Jason drove. I couldn’t help myself, I had to give him shit about it, I could tell that I would reduce him to water if left alone with him for too long.
Once in Springfield, Jason and Jagger were to look into the city records for plans regarding the structure we would be breaching, while they locate a second vehicle, Jasper and I were to begin studying the road maps for the fastest way to and from the target location.
We hit Springfield at about 1400, we dropped the two nerds off at city hall, Jason was going to swing his first fake Id of a real estate agent in order to get the building plans for the Children’s home, Jasper and I however had far more practical plans, we went for lunch.
Jagger however let out a slight gasp, he all turned to see a severed head in a jar labelled ‘Hobo Head’, after checking my pants I regained composure. Walking around the space, there were books, buckets of keys, bottles of acid, assorted ammunition, the two firearms, medical kits, and a bottle of whisky with a note ‘compliments of J Cell’. This told me one thing, we were either the second J cell, or the first one is now gone, permanently.
We each took what we needed and began loading assorted items into the trunk of Jason’s car. Jagger took the acid, medical kits, the whisky and the Remington shotgun, probably the best weapon for someone who would most likely close their eyes to pull a trigger. Jasper retrieved some assorted ammunition, a large black fire axe and one or two other trinkets. Jason, the books, always the nerd, some sort of occult texts that were lost on me, along with a basic rifle scope that also resided on the table of arms.
I slung the glock around my shoulder, its fully loaded magazine and two spares hanging under my arms in a thick, old leather shoulder holster. I also took some zipties that lay about.
Before leaving we all removed our Government issue weapons and ID’s, each bagging them individually and placing them in hidden locations around the room. We would be back before leaving town I would guess. The only thing I kept on me, my body armour, under my clothing, my Kevlar slim vest, I wasn't taking that off, not so long as I am in the field.
Leaving the container, we dropped Jagger and Jason off to rent a van, a vehicle we had chosen as best means of quick entry and exit with the ability to blend in.
Jasper and I again rode together, discussing operational tactics, and sharing our concerns about the other two did seem to swing a little as Jagger’s sudden change of heart after looking at the inside of the folder.
We decided to begin looking for our staging area, looking at the large reserve about a 15 minute drive before the target house. It was a large reservoir, multiple exits and entrances, at night, the cover of the vegetation would completely conceal us. This was the spot, we continued on, deciding to do a drive by of the target area, we drove past the driveway of the target, the house was not visible, instead a long dirt driveway, we didn’t slow down, blending into the light traffic and continuing on a slight incline up the winding landscape. The house itself was hidden behind a dense woodland all around the property. If we were going to go in, it was going to be at night, through the woods, on foot. Not great considering the warning of guard dogs hanging from the semi destroyed mailbox.
We linked back up with the other two to find them with papers and maps in hand and driving an inconspicuous white van. The kind I had busted doing runs from Mexico across the border.
Jason gave us both a verbal for conducting a drive by, he was certain we should have gone there as a four-man team, not two.
We sat in our hotel, arranged by Jason, Jasper and I were on food duty, picking up a bag of grease to pass around.
The evening was quiet, we looked over the plans, a single storey house, no bigger than that you would find in suburbia, no room for children though, multiple entry points, multiple windows. This should be easy.
Jasper and I explained the surroundings, the property was dense, trees and woods on all sides, possible guard dogs.
Jagger spoke at that point, wanting to lace steak with sedative to incapacitate the dogs, I’d only ever seen it done in a movie, was worth a shot if we couldn’t go loud.
We dispersed for the night, Jason bunking with Jagger, me with Jasper. I collected all of our firearms for inspection as we knew we were going in within the next 24 hours. Our inventory consisted of, a Smith and Wesson 38 revolver that Jason never gave up, A Remington 12 gauge pump action shotgun, my Glock 17 9mm, an old Remington 700 hunting rifle in 30-06, ideal for hunting in these parts and an Ithica 12 gauge pump action shotgun. The Ithica and 30-06 came from the trunk of Jason’s car.
I cleaned and oiled everything, Jason was to carry his pistol and the rifle, Jagger the Remington 12guage, Jasper the Ithica and myself the Glock, not that I felt under armed, I knew I could take anyone on with less than that.
We left for the reservoir around lunch time, we needed to show the nerds the staging area, they agreed it was a good spot. As the sun began to set, we decided two vehicles, one short of the driveway, the other past it, we would park and meet on foot across the road from the entrance and head in on foot.
The plan went smoothly, vehicles parked, everyone wearing their protective gear, darkness had fallen and we moved in.
We scurried across the road, moving quickly into the cover of the woods, Jason had taken point, he had brought Night Vision goggles, only one pair, so he was to lead with them.
It wasn’t long before I saw it, I told everyone to freeze, long rusty steel spikes protruded from the ground. It looked like a long series at least 20 feet long of 6" nails, semi concealed in the dark, the glint of the steel catching my eye in the moonlight.
Once we had successfully navigated the spikes, we moving along a slight incline to a small ridge looking over the house. However we were met by more troubling sight. It was cold, really cold, we gazed down upon at least a dozen children barely clothed dancing and running around. Two extra buildings had been constructed, a shed to the far right and a small cottage between the house and the shed.
It took a lot of looking but what I can only describe as a bearded lady stood guard over the children. It must have been a man, it had the voice of a man, somewhat muffled by the rain that had begun to fall, it was a thick Russian accent, that’s all I could make out. Jagger jumped quietly as we all became aware of a mangy dog standing right behind us, not aggressive, just looking at us. Jagger threw it some steak, drugged, yet the dog remained more interested in us.
As it didn’t seem to be doing anything to give us away, we turned our attention back to the people in the distance. The Bearded lady was holding a large cattle prod of crude design, and a small animal, I think it was a dog but maybe something smaller. Music was playing, some Russian anthem of some kind. A second man appeared, carrying what looked like a small body draped in a bloody sheet, a sight I had become all to accustomed too. The bearded woman barked at the children raising the small animal in the air, the children then all disappeared into the cottage, all but one, who seemed stuck in place, looking in our direction briefly before joining the other children inside.
The second man began to dig, his shovel dirty in the soggy ground. To our sudden surprise, Jasper gasped as the dog behind us had latched onto his leg, drawing blood. I grabbed him by the collar in an effort to silence him, as I did, he swung his fire axe at the animal, collecting it centre mass, sending it limping into the darkness. Jagger then moved to Jasper and began applying a bandage. Jason and I turned our gaze back to the man digging.
Jagger was a rubbish medic, we both held our breath as we heard Jasper let out a not so silent scream as Jagger tightened the bandage beyond firm. The man digging must have also heard it, he had stopped digging and had turned to face us.
No comments:
Post a Comment