Chapter 8
Rimfire International Airport.
RIA was a small town airport with four runways and one carrier, Union Airlines. Rimfire International Airport had boasted it was an International Airport ever since one private plane flew from Mexico to land there in 2013. The tiny city renamed the airport, added the requisite TSA agents and security staff, and began courting visitors. Somehow it worked. Flights from Canada and Mexico came in almost weekly. India and Japan routed through US carriers with Union usually getting the final honors
As the their small jet flew into rural Rimfire. Jean and Mara viewed the mountains and stark desert on descent. The view seemed much like home. This was the first time they would be working together, after years of being friends and rescuing each other from one crazy situation after another more times than they would remember.
Jean and Mara descended the narrow stairs of the Emraer Regional Jet 135, flight 230, from Houston, happy to finally arrive. This meeting was important and the developing story for a freelancer could make international news. It should. Both knew that the story might be silenced or set aside until a certain bureaucracy decided it could be safely published, without compromising the ubiquitous needs of National Security.
Jean alone knew the full value of her discovery.They held on to cautious optimism. Jean hoped for a series. Regardless, they were guaranteed a profitable pay day.The Center invitation guaranteed them money. They didn't, couldn't expect what happened.
The less than stellar 44 passenger jet carried a full load from Albuquerque, their previous stop. The jet was scheduled to return to Houston and the George Bush Intercontinental Airport. The bumpy flight in bad weather had sent them bouncing up and down and sliding to the sides during the 42 minute flight. It was clear to both womwn, Union Express flights would be avoided in their future.
Two passengers exited in Rimfire. The rest of the passengers were headed to connecting flights. There were no pickups scheduled. Their luggage supposedly had been sent ahead by an earlier flight through Albuquerque. Both women were prepared to complain and secretely hoped to go shopping.
The whole terminal building could have fit into nearly any of the Center safe houses. The edifice consisted of one ticket area leading into the security hall, two small bathrooms almost hidden in a nook, across from the single TSA security area. Within their own pre-boarding waiting area, there were no bathrooms. Anyone leaving the area to go to the bathroom had to pass through TSA screening again.
Immediately past that nook, the hallway ended in a general passenger and families waiting room with an outside door and a locked luggage room. Combination electronic key/passwords were used at all of the closed doors. A dogleg to the west of the waiting area a Grab and Go car rental with free coffee, and two cheerful workers waited for visors and staff. Beyond the rentals was a non-allowed zone with three closet sized offices, for the airport workers. Two of those rooms each sported laptop computers and a safe snugly fitted into crowded conditions and sitting for one. The first room on the left in the area held all returned, unclaimed, and lost luggage. The third one, at the end of the corridor,larger.It served as conference room and a place to kick back.
Jean and Mara descended the narrow stairs of the Emraer Regional Jet 135 from Houston in the downpour. Only the two passengers exited in Rimfire. There were no pickups.
Tired and worn out from their exhausting trip from Maui, they struggled down the stairs. The understanding attendant guided them into the TSA area where they were expected. The two ladies there chatted with the new arrivals.
Outside the TSA area other things were happening in the waiting room and elsewhere in the terminal. The three people in the waiting room cheered as the tall, burly guard, Gerome Nadl, gently pushed a cockroach toward the door, instead of stepping on it. The goal, an outside protected glass door, read "Not an Exit, Do Not Enter."Twelve separate nudges by Gerome's booted foot reached the door. He entered the code, held the door open, and softly booted the cockroach outside, clicking the door shut.
Shots blasted from the terminal entrance and two invaders dressed in black stormed down the hallway blasting anything and anyone in sight with automatic weapons. The TSA area divided into two separate areas by glass, crackled, spidered, and crashed in. The TSA ladies each grabbed one passenger and pushed a stunned Jean and a wide-eyed Mara to the glass covered floor. The four ladies all stayed on the floor.
Gerome in one smooth motion, whipped out his .45, like a western cowboy, and fired two shots, hitting both invaders in the head. Silence followed the shots. He stood tall, searching the hall for more attackers as he curtly signaled the waiting room people toward the rental corridor. A gasp spun him. He turned toward the three waiting room visitors. He saw the gun clearing her handbag as he was twisting and saw he was too late, as fast as he was moving. Knowing he was going to be hit first, he hoped he could take out the gimlet eyed blonde before he died. He saw the triumph bloom in her face as she fired.
Three shots rang out.
THE HOME TEAM
Jake and William planned to arrive ten minutes before flight 230. They had no memory of the flight to Albuquerque or how they arrived in Rimrock. The only memory that drove them forward was a chat with a General in Ecuador. This was, they thought, their first mission deviating from their assignments from Ishmael, and their second mission since leaving their safe house. The Centers would not be pleased. Their records and their memories would show the same thing. They both expected Jake and William to be following the separate lists of missions provided. Center 1 knew about both lists. Center 2 knew nothing about Center 1 priorities or that Jake had other assignments. Center 1 provided the amazing transport for their Center 1 missions. The disconnect between the two was surprising. Neither group knew about Jake's third set of priorities. More surprises were coming.
Jake needed to pick up a young lady and keep her safe. This new high priority mission steadily moved up the list on Jake's probability calculator over the past week until reaching top critical status. Both Centers knew about the planned airport attack in Rimrock. They knew of the importance of one passenger. Center 1 learned from Center 2 and ran their own historical check. The results were not the same. Jake would resolve that dilemma. It wasn't a dilemma yet. His focus was the pick up. That priority was the only one on his mind. He knew the small airport was going to be attacked. Later he would discover no one told the rescuers. No one told the airport or Center staff there. Communication remained shaky. Those "need to know" classifications did not work like they should. What did?
On the other hand, Center 1 probabilities warned that Jake and William must not be present during the attack, excluding them from all incidental, unnecessary details about the event. Jake did not know what would happen or when he would arrive. He did fell he would arrive when he wass supposed to arrive.
They arrived ten minutes too late for his comfort. Stop lights, heavy rain, slow moving traffic all contributed to the delays. They saw the smoke rising as they sped down the airport entrance, angry and damning everything in sight.
William made a quick call to alert Center2 about their arrival.They were told to wait for backup. They were told to stay away from the airport. Not going to happen. They hurried, parked in the middle of the 10 spaces wide handicapped parking area in front of the terminal, next to a black SUV. They locked and loaded from their rear seat before moving cautiously to explore the SUV.
The SUV was locked. The SUV was empty. They unlocked it with a clever little electronic tool William snatched from one of the support techs and kept in his backpack. The duo divined, from the partially filled gun rack in the back and from the single table with two seats, the attacking force didn't include more than four people.
They moved toward the entrance, grim and certain they were far too late to affect anything. Waiting for backup was never going to happen. The black SUV worried them. Had there been two opposition vehicles?
The ticket area was vacant. A blood trail led down
the hall. William checked behind the ticket desk. No one was hiding. They covered each other as they stepped into the hallway.
The area appeared clear. It felt vacant, empty. The duo knew the opposition was a fast, efficient, killing machine. They could be gone. It was also a consideration that they somehow knew Jake and William were coming. That could mean they were here somewhere, waiting.
Blood covered the floor of the waiting area, and the TSA secured area was blasted to smithereens. They suspected they wouldn't be meeting their assignment alive. The broken glass was all over the place and reminded Jake of broken car safety glass. The glass was covered with blood. The building was deadly silent.
They held their assault rifles at the ready position and resolutely crunched down the hall. William swept the bathrooms, then both moved through the shattered TSA area. No bodies. In tandem, they returned to the hall and advanced down the Grab and Go corridor. No one was in sight within the vestibule or the rental car desk.
Multiple blood trails converged at the last of three more doors. The door was red with bloody partial hand prints. It was on the right side of the narrow, short space. They hesitated, and Jake opened the door certain of what they would find. Yes, several bodies were piled there.
A harsh voice behind them told them to raise their hands. Jake and William did so. They silently damned themselves for not sweeping the other two rooms first. Now they were captured. One set of hands removed their assault weapons. A voice, further back said "don't move." They didn't budge an inch. They weren't dead yet. A hopeful sign. Possibilities played in both their minds as they shared a a sideways squint. In the next moment, they were told to keep their "hands high and turn around." Both men circumspectly followed that command.
They stepped slowly back around and saw the three gun barrels leveled at them. Their captors were not dressed in black. "Gerome!" William exclaimed, recognizing the speaker by sight.
"William, I'll be damned. I should have known. You two can put your hands down." Gerome quickly explained to his compatriots who their prisoners were. Everybody relaxed.
The crunching of glass further up the hall, alerted the defenders. The guns were tossed back to Jake and William.
The backup team had arrived ready for action and was assigned clean up duties. They weren't the happiest of campers. The rest of the group moved down a hidden set of stairs to the nearly finished, newly built, Center station to debrief and provide the after action report to Center.
Sitting around a large table, Gerome made introductions and told his story. After relating the cockroach story he went through shooting the two terrorists and then seeing the third killer.
"I knew I was dead. I couldn't shoot before she did. He meant the blonde killer in the waiting room. Trixie fired once from behind me taking her out. Thank God. That killer's single shot flew through my ear. He pointed to the bright red, stained compress, duct taped to his head. Trixie smiled. She was also tape duct bandaged on her thigh, head, and gun arm.
"She nailed the bitch, left handed, and wounded. Damn good shooting." Gerome nodded respectfully to Trixie who picked up the story from her viewpoint.
"The three opposition killers busted through the terminal door shooting while I was wiping down surfaces. I saw them dressed in black and approaching the entrance before they got there.
I managed to draw and get off one shot, taking down the first SOB, before getting hit. It was total luck," she admitted. "Then I was down covered in blood. The two left moved fast, down the hall, where Gerome got them. I stumbled up, grabbing my piece and had just reached where I could see Gerome in the hall. I was about to call out when, at the far end, I saw the blonde pulling her gun. I fired mine."
Jean and Mara sat pale faced, both listening. They were hearing everything for the first time. Amy Warner and Bertha Bigg, the TSA agents, had pushed them to the floor and covered them with their own bodies. The four saw none of it.Neither of the two TSA protectors were allowed weapons. There was nothing they could do beyond what they did, to keep their passengers safe. Fortunately it was enough.
Mara was a trained nurse and assisted in the medical treatment. Jean's contribution was asking for duct tape, and jury rigging two of the bandages.
They all talked for hours. Dinner was planned since there was no Center commissary yet. There was no rush. Those who could leave would go to dinner, then bring back food to those who were required to stay at the RIF Center.