…For Meritorious Service, Chapter 34
1514 Local [Romeo]
JAG Headquarters, Courtroom One
200 Stovall Street
Falls Church, Virginia
"Very well, I'll grant fifteen minute recess counselors. Court will reconvene in ten minutes." As Admiral Morris banged his gavel, Carly stood up and looked at the still seated Commander Burford.
"Excuse me," she said as she hurried out of the room.
Carolyn glanced over at Alan and John.
John only glimpsed at her for a moment until he got up, pushed his way through the crowd at the back of the room, and rushed to catch up with the Major. Alan looked over at Carolyn with questioning eyebrows. The red haired Navy Commander shrugged her shoulders and sighed at his unspoken question. Alan sat back in his chair sighing as well.
Carly walked briskly down the hall and into the ladies room. Commander Burford got there just as the door closed.
John looked around uncertain what to do, then made up his mind and rapped on the lavatory door. "Major? ...Carly? … It's me, John, can we talk?"
Carly had walked over to the sinks and stood facing the mirror. She bowed her head over the white porcelain sink. Two teardrops fell in, mixing with the left over water beads from someone's previous use.
"I'm *not* going to stand here and cry like a baby!" she hissed fiercely to herself. She raised her head and angrily wiped away the moisture from around her eyes.
The anger and hurt Major Carly Clemons felt right now was so white hot it was almost unbearable. She had promised herself this wouldn't happen again, and yet here she was in the ladies bathroom crying her eyes out.
John had managed to make his point, make her look like a fool, and yet deep down she was beginning to suspect he was right. It stoked a feeling of respect, maybe something more, and that made her even angrier. (Damn him!).
"Carly, please open the door, let's talk."
(Go to hell) she thought "I have nothing to say to you Commander," Carly said firmly while drying her eyes. She tried to put some steel back in her voice.
Okay, he had ripped her and Carolyn's defense of Staff Sergeant Jake Hilton, but she'd be damned if he won this one. "This is for Ross," she said as she dabbed away the last of her tears and began to touch up her makeup.
Hilton admitted to Carly and Carolyn that he had thought about killing Stacie Keller, but he never acted on it. When asked about the sniper rifle, Hilton vehemently denied he had taken it out of the trunk, but since he had been drunk most of the evening, he didn't remember what had happened.
She thought that they had come up with a good defense…emphasizing reports that an MP had found him passed out in the car earlier in the evening and the same MP had reported seeing him in the car about the time he was supposedly killing Stacie Keller.
This information, combined with evidence that the Senator's daughter was a recreational drug user, seemed to tie up all the loose ends. Especially because she owed her supplier some big money and she had a torrid on again off again love affair with the man. It didn't hurt Hilton's case that the drug dealer tended to slap her around for fun.
But then John brought up the Staff Sergeant's need for revenge for what he considered a personal affront and the embarrassment she had caused him. Somehow he and Alan also were able to dig up some early unsavory FITREPS that didn't bode well for his defense.
Carly was painfully reminded of John's ripping up Ross Siebert's reputation during the Staff Sergeant's trial. It was almost unbearable when the good Commander got Hilton to admit he really didn't have an alibi! This despite what she and Carolyn had told him to say. The kicker came when Stacie Keller's supplier appeared to have an airtight alibi.
Carolyn told her not to give up yet, but John seemed so sure of himself, and it did look bad for Jake Hilton…it also pointed out to her that maybe, just maybe Ross had been guilty!
Her mind tossed these ideas back and forth, making her alternate between anger and regret.
As she started toward the door, her mind flashed to the supplier's cufflinks on his expensive dress shirt as he sat on the witness stand. That design was a mirror image of the imprint found pressed in the dirt next to the murder scene!
"By God, I've got him!" Carly was smiling as she pulled on the door handle. That's when the rumble of an explosion filled the air of the bathroom. It sounded like it came from the courtyard.
1518 Local [Romeo]
Alan and Carolyn were sitting quietly in the courtroom reviewing their case notes. Admiral Morris had just gone back down to his office for a moment. Jake Hilton had requested a bathroom break so he and his attendant guard had gone down the hall. The witnesses and those watching the case had gone out to make phone calls, take a smoke break, or grab a quick coffee or a bite to eat, so they were alone in the courtroom.
Alan sat at his table looking through his notes for where to hit Carolyn's defense next. Smiling broadly he put them down and cut a quick glance at the Commander. "Ready to make a deal? Want to plea bargain before it's too late?"
Carolyn looked over at him, shaking her head and smirking. "Not on your life Alan, you should know better than that." Then she paused, looking over her reading glasses at him. "Now if you're willing to admit you don't have a case Counselor, I might be interested." Her green eyes sparkled mischievously.
His smile grew wider. "Hey, just trying to help you save face, Commander. Your client's going down."
She gave him a deadpan look. "If you mean by 'down' he's going down to the Naval Yard, he just might do that after this trial is over, that is, if that's his next duty station."
"Cute Carolyn, but it won't happen,"
"Oh?" she said coyly as she pushed her reading glassed back up the bridge of her nose, "and why is that?" She made a mental note to herself to get that strap tightened the next day she had off. Carolyn loved this give and take with Alan. They had become such good friends while stationed in Italy together. She knew exactly what buttons to push to get the desired response. Just to irritate him, she began to dig in her briefcase, pretending to look for something that was more important than this conversation.
Her action had the desired effect. He got huffy. He hated being ignored, especially by her. He could deal with it when Mac or Harm or even Bud or Sturgis did this, but not her. "Your client's guilty." Alan said confidently, trying to bait her.
It worked. She stopped pawing through her papers and looked up at him. "Do you have some secret knowledge that I don't?"
He loved it when he got her attention. It was not that he had any romantic feelings for her; it was just that they were the low JAG attorneys on Chegwidden's totem pole, and he liked the way they worked together. Underdogs of a sort. He smiled broadly. "John got your client to admit he didn't have an alibi. It's only a matter of time. Face it, you *need* my help."
She turned in her seat and faced him. "When I need *your help*, I'll let you know." She stood up and gave him an irritated look. "Admitting you don't have an alibi isn't the same as an admission of guilt; he was being honest rather than trying to lie."
Alan continued grinning, "Somehow I doubt that. C'mon Carolyn…."
If she had been made of lesser stuff, Commander Imes might have blown her top. Instead she merely gave him her best stone faced lawyer look. "Sorry Counselor, having an argument with a girlfriend does not equate to murder. When you have something more solid, we'll talk."
"Last chance…." His voice indicating he was still willing to deal.
Carolyn Imes shook her head. "I'll stick with what I have. So, 'go fish'"
He started to get up from his chair. "Carolyn-"
Both stopped in mid action and stood at attention as Judge Rear Admiral Stiles Morris walked back into the room and took his seat at the bench. He looked over at the two JAG attorneys. "Commanders are we about ready to begin?" he inquired.
"Yes your Honor, as soon as my co-counsel comes back," replied Carolyn evenly.
The austere judge looked over at Alan.
"Commander Mattoni, we *are* going to be ready to start in a few minutes, aren't we?"
"Yes your Honor," he quickly replied, "my co-counsel just stepped out for a minute, he should be back at any moment." In reality he didn't know where John had gone. The last time he saw him the man had headed out after Major Clemons when she exited the room.
Judge Morris didn't know whether to believe these two or not. Like most of Chegwidden's lawyers, these two were just as cagey as the ones now in Mirbullah. (these two could be stalling for time) he thought disgustedly. Stiles Morris hated anything that disrupted his schedule, especially stalling tactics. He decided to let them know this wouldn't work.
"Very well Counselors," he replied dryly as he began to scribble a quick note. When he finished, he pierced both of them with a harsh look. "but I remind both of you that this is a fifteen minute recess. If your co-counsels are not back in time, we *will* proceed without them, understood?"
"Yes your Honor," the two navy lawyers replied soberly.
Morris turned as one of the court officers came back into the room. The man looked up, mortified that he had not arrived before the judge. "Your Honor," he began, hoping to explain his way out of this one. He did not want to face Chegwidden's wrath or that of Gunny Brewer's.
For the moment, Stiles was not concerned about this breach in protocol. "Corporal, take this note down to Commander Helfman in the judge's chambers please. We still have a few minutes yet before we start up again, so hurry."
The man took the folded piece of paper handed to him. Secretly he was relieved that the Admiral wasn't angry. "Aye Sir," However in the back of the man's mind he wondered if Admiral would still report what had happened.
As the Corporal headed toward the courtroom doors, Morris looked over at the two naval Commanders and opened his mouth to give them another piece of advice. His comments were cut short as a storm of automatic fire smashed through the windows of the courtroom, sending shards to glass skittering across the room. The Admiral and the two Commanders along with the Marine guard and one other that had started to come back into the courtroom dove for the floor.
1522 Local [Romeo]
190 Stovall Street
The ZNN satellite van pulled to stop by the curb. As the film crew got out and set up their equipment, ZNN reporter Pam Somers got out of her car and walked over to where the film crew was setting up.
"Can I help?" she asked honestly.
The sound engineer smiled. She was one of the few field reporters that wasn't a prima donna of one sort or another. "Sure Pam," he said casually, "there are some extension cables in the van, can you get them?"
"On it," she said brightly as she headed over to the truck. As she pulled the cables out,
Pam conversed lightly with the other technician in the truck.
In a few moments, they were ready. The cameraman shouldered his mini-cam and tested the distance between them. Pam was brushing her hair, and put a clip in to keep it from falling into her face at an inopportune moment.
"Okay Pam," said the sound engineer, "mike check, testing one, two…."
Pam had just finished inserting her ear phone so that she could hear the sound engineer's directions. She nodded that she heard him. The cameraman marked his spot, walked over and handed her a clip mike.
Pam took the mike clipped it to her blue blazer, making sure it did not get caught in her strawberry blond hair. She cleared her throat as the cameraman got back to his spot and turned on the mini-cam, focusing the lens and his spot lamp on her.
Pam looked into the camera. "We ready? In five, four…Washington DC is known for its power politics, but even here, within sight of the Capitol-"
"Cut," snapped the sound engineer. Pam blew out a frustrated breath at this interruption. The man knew her schedule but he wanted this report to look good; even if it was a fluff piece. Besides, the better the piece looked, the better it made her look.
"Pam," he said quickly trying to soften his earlier snap, "wouldn't it sound better to say 'but even here, only minutes from the Capitol?'"
Pam glanced at him, irritation still lacing her pretty features. "Okay Ken," she agreed reluctantly, "how about 'within the shadow of the Capitol', instead? I could do that, 'only minutes' sounds like a travelogue."
"Okay Pam," he said soothingly, "you're right; that does sound better." Ken looked over at the cameraman again. "Okay, once more, in five, four, three…."
Pam rolled her shoulders and straightened her paisley scarf tied loosely around her neck. She looked into the camera again. "Washington is known for its power politics, but even here within the shadow of the Capitol-"
The chirp of the police cruiser's siren ruined everything.
"Damn," swore Ken. Pam instinctively looked over toward the sound.
"Pam let's-"
His words were lost as a car revved its engine and roared through an intersection down the street, obviously ignoring the fact it was going through an intersection at the wrong time.
The shriek of tires and blaring of horns was only momentary as that was quickly followed by the rhythmic staccato of machine gun fire and unmistakable whoosh of a rocket launcher.
"What the hell?" Ken took off his microphone and ran into the camera's view toward Pam. She was looking back toward the source of the sound when her hand went to her mouth. The camera swung off her and down the street toward the unmistakable sounds of battle.
Stovall Street
"Tiner!" barked Gadsden.
"Hang on!" yelled Jason yanking the steering wheel over as far to the right as it would go. Another rocket propelled grenade round smacked into a wall opposite the speeding sedan, sending bricks and concrete dust into the air as the rocket grenade holed it and detonated on the other side. The car fishtailed wildly as Jason fought hard to get it back under control.
He took a quick look at his passengers. "I don't know how much longer I can side-step these incoming RPG rounds!"
"Do your best Tiner!" replied Bauer as he steadied his aim and let off another three rounds out of the shattered back windscreen. "We'll keep the Expedition from getting any closer!"
Jen sat up for a moment and looked out the back window. The red Ford SUV swerved to miss another stalled car in its path. To make up the lost ground, the Expedition gunned its engine.
JAG Headquarters
AJ's head snapped around when he heard the explosion. With movements born of his SEAL training, the Admiral was out of his chair and headed to his window, followed close behind by the CIA Agent. It only took a moment to see the greasy dark cloud rising a few blocks away. The sound of automatic fire galvanized AJ and Clayton Webb into action. Both men dove for the floor as rounds ripped through the Venetian blinds and the wooden framing, propelling bits of glass, shards of torn blinds, and splinters of wood across the length of the room. Several picture frames and plaques on the wall opposite the windows exploded.
Smoke and dust from the shattered furnishings floated through the air as both men took advantage of the sudden quiet to make a dash for the bullpen.
"Lieutenant!" Barked the Admiral as he and CIA man came bolting out of the office, "CALL the armory and tell them to begin issuing arms and ammunition to all personnel!"
Though the bullpen itself did not have any open windows, the lawyers' offices did. As AJ and Clayton entered the bullpen though, it was clear the area was far from well protected. Bullets from outside shattered glass inside the offices and were little disturbed from their flight paths, as they smashed through the doors and windows of the offices. JAG Corps personnel were sent diving for the floor as CPU's, computer monitors, and telephones in the room, exploded from the impact of stray rounds. A few of the sailors and soldiers were not quick enough and lay sprawled, bleeding, across the bullpen floor.
At least two of the five television monitors which were always displaying news feeds and information from the Armed Forces network were destroyed. Several of the ubiquitous thick tan law books which were usually found perfectly lining the shelves ready for use, had been hit, knocking them off the shelves and in some cases, tearing them apart, scattering torn and loose pages around the room. Overhead, light fixtures sputtered and crackled, sending showers of sparks onto the floor. Some of the staff were moving and moaning, others were very still. Papers fluttering about ignited into isolated fires completing the hellish scene.
AJ and the CIA Agent ran past a crouching Harriet who had begun punching numbers into her still intact phone. She only paused for a moment before she began yelling above the renewed gunfire.
"ARMORY! THIS IS LIEUTENANT SIMS! BEGIN ISSUING RIFLES AND SIDEARMS WITH LIVE AMMUNITION TO ALL PERSONNEL! ORDERS FROM ADMIRAL CHEGWIDDEN! THIS IS NOT A DRILL!"
AJ glimpsed her talking to the staff in the armory. He looked back at her over his shoulder as he headed for the closest stairwell. "LIEUTENANT! Lock Down this facility at once! Have the security COMPANY meet me out front! And call THE Pentagon and tell them we are at threatcon alpha one! JAG CORPS Headquarters is under attack!"
200 Stovall Street
JAG Headquarters Main Gate
A hail of automatic rifle fire shattered the windows in the Crown Victoria as Jason slammed on the brakes, slewing the car sideways. Grabbing Jen and reaching over for the door, he opened it and shoved her prone body out onto the pavement. He quickly followed her out on that side of the car out of sight of the pursuing Expedition.
They sat behind the tires with Corporals Pete Bauer and Jim Gadsden, who had also bailed out of the disabled sedan on the same side, and had now positioned themselves by the car's engine. They continued to empty their 9mm pistols into the speeding Expedition that was bearing down on them.
The front windshield of the red SUV starred, bullet holes blossoming across its entire length. The young driver jerked and strained as rounds bounced off his bulletproof vest but slammed into his head and neck. He grunted, his head thrown back by the nine millimeter impacts. With his dying breath, he yanked the SUV's steering wheel hard to the left.
Kazir grunted as well, trying to staunch the flow of blood from his shattered arms. He barely noticed the pain from the bullet that had grazed his ear.
The remaining men from the Ford SUV, took positions and aimed their AK-74 and RPK rifles at the dark blue sedan which was now sitting sideways in the middle of the street. They all opened fire simultaneously, blowing large holes in the chassis of the JAG sedan causing the hood and trunk lids to detach and slap up and down as bullets impacted against them.
The storm of automatic rifle fire caused the two JAG security officers to drop behind the car for protection. Jen and Jason tried to make themselves as small a target as possible as rounds whizzed all around them.
Anson was headed down the florescent lit hallway back toward his office when he heard the gunfire and explosions. One sounded particularly close. He turned toward the sound of the blast and broke into a run. In one fluid motion, he pulled his service pistol from his holster, shoved in a clip from his waist bandolier into the weapon.
As he did this, his radio crackled to life.
"Gunny this is Sergeant Ramirez!"
Anson put his pistol back into his holster and stopped in the middle of the empty hallway. "Ramirez! What the devil's going on out there!"
The senior guard's normally placid voice was strident. "One of our sedans is taking fire! Six men with automatic rifles and hand grenades! We're also under sniper and RPG attack from nearby buildings!"
"Hang tough Ramirez! I'll alert the Cap'n and send a squad your way!"
"Aye Sir! Ramirez out!"
Gunny Brewster changed frequencies on his radio.
"Captain! This is Gunny Brewster! Come in!"
Static. Another explosion ripped through the air. This one was much closer than the last one.
"Cap'n! This is Brewster!"
"Sergeant Sheetz here Gunny!"
Anson was dumbfounded. Where was the Captain? This was his personal radio …for a crazy moment the JAG Corps Gunny thought this might be part of that anti-terrorism exercise. That's why Jimenez wasn't answering. (But training exercises have strict rules about live ammunition use…especially the use of RPGs…) the logical part of his mind argued back.
"Sheetz! Where the hell is the Captain?"
"Unknown Gunny!" Anson's blood chilled. In his mind's eye he could see the man, officially known as the Office of the JAG Security Manager, sitting in his burning car or sprawled on the pavement of the parking lot. What's the first rule of terrorism? Chaos…sever command and control.
"SERGEANT! GATHER ALL AVAILABLE SECURITY OFFICERS AND SET UP A PERIMETER DEFENSE AROUND THE BUILDING! DON'T LET THESE GUYS FLANK YOU OR THE GUARD SHACK OR WE'VE HAD IT! DO YOU READ ME MARINE?"
The response was automatic and pure Marine.
"AYE! AYE GUNNY!"
The radio clicked off. Anson Brewster pulled out his pistol and cocked it, but left the safety on for the moment. He began running down the hallway again as the automatic weapons fire increased in intensity.
Victor heard the twin RPG explosions and the sound of pistol and automatic rifle fire growing closer. He began sprinting back toward the JAG armory. When he arrived, he saw a pale Corporal Chang standing there as if frozen.
As soon as the man saw Gunny Galindez, he began pulling at his pistol holster.
"CORPORAL!" Barked Victor, "HAND ME THAT ASSAULT RIFLE!"
Chang stopped what he was doing and numbly complied, handing the man an M-16A2 rifle.
"AMMUNITION!"
The boxes were passed to Victor who ripped one of them open, took a clip and slapped it into the assault rifle. The others he shoved into his pants pockets.
Leaving the weapon on safety for the moment, he turned away from the stunned Corporal and headed down the hallway toward the south stairwell and away from the sound of the developing battle.
Staff Sergeant Jake Hilton had just finished uncuffing himself from his dead guard. The man had caught two rounds in the chest as they passed an open window. The Staff Sergeant had felt for a pulse and found none, before digging in the man's breast pocket for the keys to these manacles.
No one would ever believe his story '…we were walking back toward the courtroom when my guard was hit by stray bullets from the outside, and killed immediately. I couldn't just stay handcuffed to him….'
Yeah right, sure, they'll believe that happened, why wouldn't they? Maybe because I'm on trial for murder? He laughed at the irony of the situation.
Jake Hilton started to get up when he heard a familiar voice float down the hall between the stuttering of automatic fire.
"C'mon Dixie," said the anxious voice "The Staff Sergeant's probably dead by now and those terrorists are going to overrun this place at any moment!"
He recognized that voice. It was the drug dealer that had just testified about his guilt.
But who was Dixie?
"You go on Joe," she said brusquely, "I've got to make sure he's dead." Jake froze. It was Seaman Hurtado! Why did she want him dead? It didn't make any sense.
"Suit yourself," called out Joe as he ran down the hall away from him, "You're on your own, lady!"
Sergeant Ramirez and Corporal Burkett ducked as shrapnel from an exploding Jeep Cherokee sailed past their thin guard shack. Bullets of various calibers whizzed and zipped above their heads like angry bees.
"CORPORAL!" Yelled the Sergeant, "GET READY TO RETURN FIRE WHEN I SAY SO!"
AYE SARGE!
Ramirez scanned for wounded civilians and military personnel among the flaming wreckage and bullet riddled vehicles.
She could see Bauer and Gadsden, their weapons ready, crouched behind the steel and fiberglass cover of the JAG sedan. All four tires hand been holed and rounds passed through the right side doors as if passing through paper.
Cassandra could also see Jason Tiner and Jennifer Coates moving into crouching positions behind the flattened tires. They were also getting ready to return fire.
Gunfire from the Expedition was almost constant now.
"CAN YOU SEE THEM MA'AM?"
"THEY'RE GETTING READY TO RETURN FIRE CORPORAL! PICK YOUR TARGETS!" Cassie readied her weapon when the group behind the sedan started to stand.
"AYE! AYE MA'AM!"
"NOW! SEMI-AUTO!"
As the rattle of M-16 fire opened up behind them, Jen looked pensively over at Jason.
Jason nodded at Pete. The fire from the SUV had lifted momentarily. The two Petty Officers and the two Corporals stood up and brought their weapons to bear, opening up on the Expedition.
1532 Local [Romeo]
NCIS Headquarters
Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs sat in his cubicle trying to figure out how he had lost his desktop icons, again. All he had done was erased one little file and now the computer acted as if it had glue gumming it up. He missed hunting and pecking on a Selectric typewriter. At least he could always figure out what was wrong with it.
His second in command, Tony DiNozzo, a former Baltimore PD Homicide detective, had been watching the ZNN Late Afternoon Live! update on his computer. It was not so much that he was a news hound; it was the fact that the afternoon anchor was a major babe. Young, blonde, and hot. Everything Tony liked in a girl. Then the image on his screen changed dramatically.
"Boss, I think you ought to see this…."
Leroy Jethro Gibbs looked up, annoyed at this man's interruption. "What is it DiNozzo? I'm not in the mood for-"
Tony hit a button transferring the live feed from his computer to the bullpen viewing screen. "On the viewing screen, Boss," said Tony unnecessarily. The viewer/projector flashed images of the shattered and burning cars in the parking lot of the bullet riddled JAG Corps Headquarters.
The rattle of automatic fire could be heard being punctuated by the occasional report of automatic pistols and the distinctive crack of rifles. In the upper left hand corner the word 'LIVE' glowed hauntingly, while in the lower right hand corner was the standard ZNN logo.
The blonde's normally matter-of-fact voice sounded…terror stricken.
"What you are seeing are live pictures of what appears to be a terrorist assault on the Headquarters of the Judge Advocate General's offices in Falls Church. Our own Pam Somers was in the area on another assignment when the terrorists – and we want to stress these are unconfirmed reports – as many as twenty, may be assaulting the JAG Corps compound."
Special Agent Gibbs got to his feet but remained silent as his brain tried to process what was going on. Tony stood looking at the screen as if in a trance.
"…the attack began a little before 3:30 p.m. Eastern Daylight Time. We're now going to try to make contact with Pam Somers who is only a block from the fighting. Pam, can you hear us? Are you all right? What is the current situation?"
It took less than a minute for the former Gunnery Sergeant's Marine training to kick in. "Get your weapon." He said tersely as he grabbed his Beretta 92F out of his desk drawer and slapped a clip into it.
One of the enlisted Marines who had been down the hall came back into the room, looked up at the carnage and gave voice to everyone's thoughts in the room. "What the hell is happening?"
Gibb's second in command swiftly grabbed his pistol out of his desk drawer and cocked it as he turned to join his silver haired team leader.
At that moment, NCIS Director Tom Morrow came down the stairs out of the Multiple Threat Assessment Center Videoconference room.
"Gibbs, I just got off the phone with the Pentagon. As of this moment, we are the closest military asset to Falls Church. We are to form a special response team to help try and break through to JAG Corps Headquarters." He looked over at Chris Pacci who stood rooted to his spot in front of his desk. "Special Agent Pacci, use the Videoconference room and call Norfolk and tell them we need their closest amphibious assault ship to send their fleet anti-terrorist team." The man nodded and headed up the stairs past the Director.
The old man turned back to Gibbs. "I'm calling the White House and telling them what we know at this point. The FBI has their counter-terrorist team and hostage response teams en-route." The man started to turn, then put his hand on the former Gunnery Sergeant's shoulder. For Director Morrow to do this and look Gibbs in the eyes spoke volumes. "Be careful Gibbs."
Gibbs understood the emotion behind the simple gesture. "I will Sir." Senior Special Agent looked at his second in command. "Let's roll!"
"Comin' Boss," replied Tony. As the former police detective headed after his boss, he stopped and looked at the group of agents, Marines, and Navy personnel in MTAC, still staring at the ZNN report flashing on the screen.
"You can stand there all day with your mouths hanging open, but that isn't going to stop those bad guys! Now if you want to do something constructive rather than standing around like zombies you can join me and Special Agent Gibbs or you can continue to stand around! Now which is it?"
"DINOZZO!" bellowed Gibbs from far down the hallway. Tony flinched and began running to catch up with his boss.
This spurred the remaining agents and military personnel in MTAC into action. Grabbing their side arms and bulletproof vests, they headed for the garage at NCIS Headquarters.
Bullets whacked and pinged off the sturdy SUV. A side mirror exploded and the side windows first starred and then exploded under the relentless fusillade.
Kazir, his bloody arms wrapped in rags hissed in anger at his men cowering under the heavy fire coming from these lawyers! He stood up and motioned to them. "GET UP YOU FOOLS!" He barked, "RETURN FIRE! WE-"
Kazir al Azzan dropped to the pavement and did not move. Blood pooled around the leader of Hammad's second squad. Kazir's men looked in shock at their obviously dead commander. Then as one, they moved into position to return the lawyers' gunfire.
"I GOT ONE OF THEM!" announced Jim.
"KEEP FIRING!" admonished Pete as he continued to fire at the badly holed SUV.
"I'M DRY!" said Tiner as he ducked back down.
"ME TOO!" said Jennifer as she too ducked back down behind their sedan.
As both dropped to the ground and grabbed for another ammunition clip from their belts as the roar of automatic fire from the RPKs and AK-74s made both flinch.
Pete dropped behind the questionable cover of the sedan's front near the engine.
Jim Gadsden, however, was not quick enough. He grunted as he dropped to the ground beside his partner. His Beretta automatic pistol fell out of his hands and clattered on the asphalt.
"CORPORAL GADSDEN!" Screamed Jen.
Pete gave his partner a quick glance and saw the man was beyond help.
"COATES! TINER! ON MY MARK! SUSTAINED GRAZING FIRE!"
Jason nodded and both he and Pete Bauer got up in a squatting position, getting ready to fire. Jen tore her tear stained eyes off the dead JAG security officer and got into a squatting position herself. As she did, she slapped another clip in and cocked her weapon.
Jake Hilton pressed himself into the corner. He knew Anne Hurtado was headed his way and once she found the body of the dead guard, she'd know he had escaped.
Seaman Anne 'Dixie' Hurtado stopped when she saw the body of the guard splayed crossways in the hall.
"Ah Jake," she sighed, sounding happy rather than sad. "That was a really dumb mistake to make, Sarge."
Jake didn't dare look around the corner for fear she might be standing right by it.
"Now why didn't you take the guard's gun?" she mused aloud to herself. Truthfully, Jake didn't want it. It was bad enough he had escaped custody. "Oh well, too bad for you Sargie, 'cause now I get to extract a little sweet revenge and be rewarded for it."
(Sweet revenge?) Jake racked his brain trying to figure out how this sweet kid had hidden her amoral, sadistic side. And more importantly, why was she so gleeful about getting the chance to kill him?
Now was not the time to ponder these deep thoughts. It was obvious she was trying to kill him and then make it look like she had stopped a dangerously deranged criminal or at least that she had killed him in self defense. The Staff Sergeant moved quietly down the hall and slipped into the JAG legal library.
Anne heard the door around the corner click shut. She smiled malevolently, "Staff Sergeant," she called out, "you have to surrender; please it's me, Anne."
Jake stole over into the legal reference book shelving area. He now knew the malice that lay beneath that innocent sounding phrase. It was the beginning of a setup.
"Sergeant Hilton? Please, you have to surrender." Jake knew she had flipped off the safety.
The Staff Sergeant pushed against the shelf, damn! Bolted to the wall. But the books weren't….
Anne Hurtado could faintly hear the automatic rifle and pistol fire outside. Jake was in here, somewhere, once she killed him, she'd be home free—
Anne looked up to see an avalanche of books headed for her. The last thing she felt before everything went black was three heavy books hitting her in quick succession.
Anson Brewster skidded to a stop as he looked down the hall and saw four men armed with assault rifles and bandoliers of ammunition coming out of a "mouse hole" headed away him into the south stairwell. These weren't Army Special Forces types. He remembered from reading the reports about Flight 93 that the red bandanas they were wearing indicated they considered themselves to be martyrs – a suicide squad. He was one man against four.
Alan, nursing several glass induced gashes in his arm, looked over at Carolyn's prone form. Her white dress uniform was spattered with blood – her blood. She did not move. He was about to say something to her when another explosion rattled the courtroom.
"Carolyn! Carolyn! Are you okay?" She didn't respond. Alan, ignoring the pain from his lacerated arms, pulled the silent Commander closer so that he could check her injuries. He did a quick check of her extremities. Next he checked her chest and waist – no bleeding that he could see. Except for some superficial cuts from flying glass, she seemed unharmed.
Alan heard a gurgle and turned toward the sound. He saw of the court officer who had been headed toward the judge's chambers. The Marine guard was slumped by the wall, his sightless eyes focused on them. The courtroom was heavy with the stench of cordite and pulverized debris.
Now Commander Mattoni was aware of the other court guard crawling toward the judge's bench.
"Admiral!" The man called out hoarsely over the roar of the renewed automatic fire. "Admiral! Are you hurt?"
"I'm fine Corporal," replied Judge Morris. "Get everyone out of here that you can, I'll make my way out!"
"Sir!" The man said fiercely, "My job is to protect you!" It was obvious the young non-commissioned officer felt responsible for the Rear Admiral's safety.
Stiles Morris hissed his frustration. "Corporal! *Your job* is to get everyone else out of here!" He saw the man draw back. With everything else that was going on, he knew the court officer was only trying to do his job. "I'll be right behind you, Corporal! Get these people out of here!" The judge would have normally have ended the sentence with 'that's an order!' but he knew he really didn't need to.
"Aye Sir!" the Corporal looked over at Alan.
"Are you hurt bad Commander!"
Another shower of gunfire ripped the windows of the courtroom, smacking into pictures, sturdy wood furniture, plaster walls, and elegant light fixtures on the ceiling and at the desks causing them to explode in showers of sparks. Bullets continued to ricochet through the room, making any movement but low crawling, suicide.
"No," the Navy lawyer replied, ignoring his own wounds, "But my partner-"
The court guard began moving toward him. "Don't worry Sir, we'll get her out of here!"
The two men began to carefully drag the unconscious Carolyn Imes toward the back of the courtroom. Admiral Morris followed the two men.
As they pushed open the damaged double doors to Courtroom One, Commander Imes coughed.
Alan stopped dragging her and leaned over into her face. "Carolyn? Carolyn! It's me, Alan…are you okay?"
"…head hurts…." She mumbled, passing a hand over her closed eyes.
"Your head?" he and the Corporal exchanged confused looks.
"You were wounded in the head Commander?" said Judge Morris as he reached the three.
She moaned. "No…hit head…not very good…combat maneuvers…."
Alan smiled at her joke. She had hit her head on the table and chairs when she had tried to take cover. "Well, none of us are combat soldiers, Carolyn."
Carolyn gave him a sly smile "You…forget…about Mac…and Harm's a hotshot aviator," she giggled, "With a cute six…."
The Corporal looked deeply concerned at that comment.
"We'd better get her to the infirmary Sir, no telling how badly she's hurt,"
Alan and Admiral Morris exchanged wry smiles. "She's not hurt as bad as you might think Corporal," the Admiral replied dryly, "but she should get that bump on the head checked."
As Gibbs sprinted down the hallway toward the NCIS garage, a familiar British accent stopped him.
"Trouble, Jethro?"
"Terrorist attack in progress at JAG, Ducky," said the man as he passed his old friend.
"I'll get my bag," he replied abruptly to the former Gunnery Sergeant, then disappeared into the Morgue.
Tony DiNozzo came running down the hall with a group of agents and military personnel following close behind him. "What's going on, Boss?"
"Ducky's coming with us." stated Gibbs.
"Ducky?" Tony's face screwed up in agitation "He's not combat trained-"
"On the contrary Tony," Dr. Mallard had returned carrying his medical bag. "I served a tour of duty with the Royal Australian Armored Corps at Binh Ba in Vietnam. Why I remember one time, one of the lad's patrols got into a particularly nasty firefight-"
"Save it for later Ducky!" growled Gibbs, "Let's go!"
The three men climbed into the late model Ford Taurus sedan with Gibbs in the driver's seat. Not waiting for the garage door to fully open, he gunned the engine and flew through the opening, barely clearing it. He was immediately followed by two other larger late model Ford sedans as they bolted up the alleyway toward the street.
Anson watched as the four armed men moved stealthily from the "mouse hole" to the stairwell door. Apparently, their aim had been off, otherwise they would have blown their entry into the building in the stairwell, not beside it. He stayed behind them, keeping his distance. He did not want to get too close to them yet. They were looking for something – Anson froze when he heard hurried padding behind him. Damn! He should have known there would be a rear guard!
Anson braced for a knife being pulled across his throat.
"Anson?"
It was Victor Galindez. "Geez, Buddy, I almost killed you!"
"I thought you were going to," Anson quipped nervously, giving his old friend a wink to let him know he was okay.
"Why are you headed this way?" asked Victor "The battle is on the north side of the building."
"Those RPG explosions outside were timed to cover an explosion I heard come from the south side of the building." the JAG Corps security Gunny replied. "Why are you headed this way?"
That was a good question. But the combat veteran had an equally good answer. "All that noise had to be masking a flank or rear assault."
The men exchanged wry graveyard humor grins.
"So, who's up ahead?" asked Victor.
"Four bad guys…all armed to the teeth."
"Probably looking for the stairwell," surmised the former JAG administrative assistant.
"Well, it's a cinch they aren't looking for the records archives."
Victor looked around trying to get his bearings. It had been a few years since he had actually been in the basement and without a schematic he had trouble visualizing the layout. Anson knew what he trying to do. He came up with a plan of attack first.
"Look, I'll take the elevator and you follow'em up the stairwell. We'll catch them in a nutcracker...between you and me," he quickly explained."
"Right." Splitting up was not a good idea he combat instincts told him, but considering the current situation, it sounded as good a plan as any at this point.
"Let's take'em down buddy," said Anson. Victor could tell his friend was eager to get into the action.
As they split up, Gunnery Sergeant Galindez wondered why they didn't just take the elevator up to the Headquarters area and spray the bullpen. (They don't know the actual layout of the building either,) he realized as he moved down the hall toward the stairwell door. (They really are amateurs. Some amateurs,) he thought grimly (No telling how many they've killed so far). He and Anson had to stop them from killing anyone else.
As he started to open the door, he looked back up the hall at Anson who had reached the elevator. "Just like the old days Vic," said the JAG security platoon sergeant in whisper loud enough for Victor to hear.
Victor wondered just how successful this nutcracker operation of theirs would be. "See you topside, Anson." He whispered back.
Victor opened the stairwell door and looked inside. The florescent lights were weak but he could hear the clink and clank of the terrorists' unsecured weapons and ammunition belts as they climbed the stairs. He slowly and carefully made his way over to the stairway landing. Victor slowly climbed the steps, feeling hand along the cool cinder block wall and the white painted metal stairwell railing.
The Admiral and Clayton reached the front doors of the building. Standing on either side of the entrance with their backs to the wall, they saw Carly and John making their way down the hallway to the front door. They motioned to John and Carly to join them. Following close behind was an ad-hoc contingent of heavily armed Marine and Naval personnel.
AJ glanced at the Commander and the Major. "Major! Take your squad and head to the north entrance of the building! Secure the parking lot and set up your defensive positions there!"
"Aye Sir!" was the crisp response. Carly motioned to her assembled group of Marines and Naval personnel and they moved down side hallway toward the north entrance.
"Commander! take your squad and secure the roof! See if you can find out where this gunfire is coming from!"
"Aye Sir!" Commander Burford led his squad to down the hallway away from AJ, Clayton Webb and their makeshift squad.
AJ Chegwidden looked at the rest of the soldiers gathered around him. Normally, they would be file clerks, legalmen, keyboard specialists, IT support staff, and legal support staff. Now like the cooks and musicians caught in the Battle of the Bulge in World War II, they had picked up rifles and pistols to join the fight to defend this US military installation.
They had the numbers, but many had not been in combat before. Though he had tried to keep combat experienced folks on his staff, there were never enough. They were needed elsewhere. He was lucky to have as many on his staff as he did. He looked around at the young men and women looking to him for leadership. He knew deep down that he was sending some of these people to their deaths.
He pushed those morbid thoughts from his mind. He had a job to do. He wasn't going to let a bunch of Islamic fanatics take over his installation! Like that Irish assassin Hemlock that had shot Lieutenant Austin, Corporal Magida, and that Ex-KGB assassin Vasily Rokatov, who had bombed one of his sedans killing Commander Carlton and two of his security officers, they wouldn't get away with this. Before this day was over with, he'd have them all stuffed and mounted in the JAG Corps hallways!
"THE REST OF YOU COME WITH ME AND MR. WEBB!" he barked.
Major Jack McBurney was angry at himself. His super slick sports car was sitting on South Eads with an empty gas tank. It was bad enough he had gotten distracted by trying to figure out how to best help his client, Chief Petty Officer Zelda Feldman. Puzzling over her embezzlement and murder charges had caused him to forget to fill the tank. He never seemed to keep it above the half full level anyway. He just really got into these cases, and keeping his car tank filled was of secondary importance.
The other thing that had distracted him was that his opponent in this case was not Colonel MacKenzie, or Commander Rabb or even Lieutenant Bud Roberts; no, it was none other than Lieutenant Commander Faith Coleman, again. It was like the two of them were tied together by an invisible rope.
Thanks to these annoying things, here he sat on the side of the road. But rather than being overly concerned about that, his mind tried to figure out just why CPO Feldman had killed Ensign Richard Farn. He had been brooding over the case when his car began sputtering and coughing from lack of fuel.
If running out of gas wasn't embarrassing enough, the SUV coming up the road toward him made the Major wish he was anywhere but here.
The white Saturn Vue slowed to a stop and the window rolled down, revealing the stern countenance of Faith Coleman.
She raised an eyebrow when she saw who it was standing by the side of the road. "Don't tell me you ran out of gas?"
"Look I don't have time for this right now," Jack said gruffly, "I have a 3:30 p.m. appointment at NCIS with Agent DiNozzo."
Faith pulled her arm to where she could see her watch better. "You're not going to make it." A thin smile crossed her lips, "I could call triple A for you," she offered.
(Payback for my pummeling of her lawyer skills when she defended Commander Rabb after he was accused of killing Lieutenant Singer,) he thought, (Okay, I deserved that…time to eat crow.)
"Couldn't you just give me a lift?" He was close to pleading.
"Why?" she asked. That thin smile was still there. She had him.
Okay begging wasn't going to work. The Major tried another tactic. "Aren't you headed that way now?"
"Yes."
"Well?"
The Lieutenant Commander sighed. She really didn't want to leave him stranded here. She just wanted to hold his toes to the fire for a little bit for his deconstruction of her lawyer abilities in front of the JAG and Commander Rabb.
"Get in."
She opened the passenger door from her side. Jake McBurney climbed into the SUV and noted the state of cleanliness – you could eat off the floorboards.
"Wow. Clean car," he quipped. He couldn't help it. It was really seriously clean.
"No cracks about the interior of my car Major, or I'll make you jog alongside until we get to NCIS."
"Got it." (And she'd do it too,) he thought as she put her sports utility vehicle into gear.
As they started down the street, Jack pointed at the speeding Ford Taurus headed in the opposite direction. "Isn't that Special Agents Gibbs headed toward us?"
"It is," she stated blandly as Gibbs' car and two other sedans roared past them at high speed. "And Agent DiNozzo and Doctor Mallard are with him."
"Something big is going on," surmised the Major as he looked back at the last sedan receding from view.
"I agree Major, please hold on," Without warning, Faith did a high speed u-turn and went after the group.
"Would you mind giving me a little more warning the next time you're going to do something like that?" grunted an unnerved McBurney as struggled with his seat belt.
"I told you to hold on," replied Commander Coleman neutrally as she continued to chase the NCIS convoy. "You should have put your seatbelt on when you first got in, I always do."
"I'll make a note to do that the next time I ride with you."
The elevator dinged announcing it had reached the first floor in the building. Anson rolled out as soon as the doors slid open. He kept his pistol trained on the hallway. Nothing. He heard some shouts and the sound of gunfire, but no one came down this hallway. The suicide squad had not made it to this floor…yet. He turned himself and pointed the 9mm automatic toward the other end of the hallway. Again nothing. Only silent desks and humming florescent lamps.
Gunny Brewster let out the breath he was holding. Apparently when the attack started, the personnel in legal records had gone downstairs. Hopefully most of them had taken cover with rest of his security team and Sergeant Sheetz…wherever they were right now.
He got to his feet, and sprinted to the end of the hallway, stopping at the south stairway entrance. Carefully, he cracked open the door and peered down the stairwell. He could see the terrorists making their way to the landing, toward him, like unstoppable machines.
Brewster took a deep breath and aimed his pistol down toward them.
"Waqif! Stop! That's far enough!"
Victor raised his rifle as he came around the corner and saw three of the men on the stairs. The fourth was partially obscured by the landing.
"Waqif! Stop!" barked Gunny Galindez, "Drop your weapons!"
"Do it now!" yelled Anson, his finger tightening on the trigger of his automatic. "Drop your weapons!"
The lead gunman, a stocky boy in his late teens, looked nervously at Anson, and then back at his friends. They were trapped.
"Don't move!" yelled Victor as one of the teens started to reach for his AK-74.
Anson was trying to will the kid to lay down his weapon. "Don't do it kid, don't make me shoot you," he warned the stocky one.
"You won't be hurt," said Victor in their native tongue. One or two of the gunmen looked toward Victor as if unsure of their leader's supposedly pure motive.
Victor never knew who fired first. He heard a clack like an ammo belt dropping or a gun being cocked and then "ALLAH AKBAR" being yelled, followed by the staccato roar of the group's AK rifles being discharged. He also heard one or two reports from Anson's nine millimeter as he began firing controlled bursts from his assault rifle.
As if in slow motion, he saw the three closest gunmen fall back down the stairs, dropping their rifles. The weapons clattered and clanked back down to the ground floor landing.
Victor Galindez felt a stinging sensation on his shoulder, but concentrated on shooting the fourth gunman who was still firing at Anson. The teen grunted and slumped down on the stairwell.
Gunny Galindez waved the cordite smoke away from his face as he tried to see up the stairs to where Anson had been standing.
"Anson…Anson? Anson? GUNNY BREWSTER SOUND OFF!"
"No need to shout buddy…" said a weak voice from the top of the stair landing. "I'm still here."
Victor climbed over the bodies of the Islamic gunmen, praying for the best, but fearing the worst, as he made his way up to his old friend.
Gunny Brewster was sitting with his back against the stairwell door, which had been well ventilated by the terrorists' gunfire.
ANSON!
"Looks…like I got…my wish…." Anson Brewster said gasping for breath.
Victor could see the multiple wounds were fatal. He'd seen this before in combat in various places across the world. He never thought he'd be witness to it in a JAG Corps Headquarters stairwell.
Victor moved over beside the security platoon's Gunny. He laid down his weapon and started assessing the man's wounds. "Take it easy Anson; I'll get a Corpsman down here-"
"Don't bullshit me Vic…I know where I got hit…shoulda had two damn flak vests on…." he said through gritted teeth.
Victor held his buddy against his shoulder. "You always were a kidder." The man was dying and there was nothing he could do.
Anson's breaths became more ragged. "Victor? Don't let…them get through…. Forget…about me…I've …had it."
Victor Galindez wasn't ready to give up on his old friend yet. "C'mon Anson, don't you give up on me now. Dammit Anson, don't give up!"
"Not…my decision…Galindez…you're in charge…now…of the…security team…. Stop…those…those…terroristsssssss…." Anson Brewster hissed out his last orders with his dying breath and then became very quiet. A peaceful look filled the man's face.
Victor held his dead friend tight against him. "I promise you buddy, I will." Tears rippled down Galindez's dirty cheeks as his body was wracked with sobs.
150 Stovall Street
Gibbs slammed on the Taurus' brakes making Tony wince. As they climbed out of the sedan, the other two cars screeched to a halt behind them, part of their human cargo fanning out and joining Gibbs, Ducky and Tony and the rest opening their trunks and grabbing bullet proof vests, extra ammunition, assault rifles and shotguns.
As Gibbs was inserting his earpiece and adjusting his radio headset, a heavily armed police officer ran up to him. The former Gunnery Sergeant flipped open his wallet revealing his identification card, "Special Agent Gibbs, NCIS. We're the special response team."
The man nodded, "Right this way, Sir."
The patrolman lead Gibbs, Tony, Ducky and the rest of the NCIS special response team over to several heavily armed officers and detectives who had taken positions behind one of patrol cars.
"Captain, Special Agent Gibbs from NCIS."
Gibbs squatted down next to the lead officer. "Captain Jeff Harkens, Falls Church PD. That's Detective Lieutenant Frank Wallens, and Sergeant Todd Viceroy."
"Lieutenant, Sergeant." said the silver haired agent acknowledging the two local law enforcement officials, "What's the situation, Captain?"
Captain Harkens looked down the street to JAG and then back at Gibbs. "Terrorists tried to ambush a JAG Corps sedan as it was returning to the Welles Headquarters building up the street. They killed one of my officers when he inadvertently uncovered part of the ambush team."
"How many of them are there?" asked Tony earning the man an annoyed glare from the senior Agent.
"There were at least five of them in a Ford Expedition that is now sitting at the entrance to JAG Headquarters. Our Counter Terrorist unit and our SWAT unit has at least two RPG and two sniper teams under surveillance on rooftops of the buildings at the 170, 180, 190 and 200th blocks of Stovall. There's also a van concealing a heavy machine gun near the 180th block. We're estimating at least twenty terrorists, maybe more."
"You're looking at least a company sized unit, Captain," said Gibbs grimly. He could see the man was already doing the math; they were going to need a lot more backup. "What's your plan?"
The Captain looked down the street toward the sounds of battle and then back at Gibbs. "We've got at least a dozen vehicles, cars, trucks, SUVs, trapped between here and the 200th block. My first priority is to get those people, that is whoever is still alive, to safety."
Gibbs nodded. They were flying blind on this one. There wasn't a real defined, precise manual on how to handle a terrorist attack of this nature.
"The other fly in the ointment," continued the Captain, "is that ZNN had a reporter and her unit doing a news piece at 190th block of Stovall."
"We saw them on television," said Tony that earned the man another glare from Gibbs. The former Baltimore police detective knew he'd better not speak up again.
"Captain, if your men can handle the hostage extraction, we'll provide fire support for them as we make our way to JAG Headquarters."
The police Captain nodded at the NCIS agent's suggestion.
Gibbs looked at his mixed group of agents, Marines and sailors. "Braddock, take your team and circle around to the left. Everett, take your team and circle around to the right. We'll meet at JAG Corps Headquarters and move in from the rear of building."
"What about your group Gibbs?" asked Braddock.
"Tony and I will scout Stovall and see how many we're really dealing with." He looked over at Doctor Mallard. "You stay here Ducky."
But the good Doctor was not about to do that. "No Jethro, you need a medic."
Gibbs couldn't argue with his logic. The sounds of automatic rifle fire made this sound like downtown Baghdad, not Northern Virginia.
"Okay," he motioned to the teams, "Let's move!"
"Agent Gibbs!"
Jethro Gibbs turned to see Major McBurney and Lieutenant Commander Faith Coleman headed towards him.
"Can you use another two warm bodies?" asked Jack.
"I know the layout of JAG Headquarters," added Faith. She knew that Gibbs understood her saying that was as good as having any set of blueprints.
The senior NCIS Special Agent motioned 'over here' to them. "Come on!"
As Jack McBurney moved to join Gibbs, Faith stayed back with Ducky. The forensic doctor noticed this.
"Why aren't you going up front with the Major, Commander?"
"I'm protecting you, Doctor Mallard. Besides I'm not a soldier, I'm a lawyer," she replied with cool rational logic.
"Then your services will be very handy if we want to negotiate with them," Ducky said caustically. "Those people dying out there are your co-workers, Commander. I advise you to lose the conscientious objector attitude."
Faith gave the man a piercing glare. "I will do Agent Gibbs more good giving him a correct layout of the building, rather than acting like some gung-ho naval commando. Major McBurney is the one with combat experience." She added trying to soften the 'naval commando' comment.
The good doctor however did not back down. "I rather think Gibbs would appreciate having more of those 'gung-ho naval commandos' as you call them, Commander."
Surprise showed on Lieutenant Commander Coleman's face at the man's emotional intensity. "I'll give it some thought, Doctor." She replied in a not so confident voice.
Jason, Jen, and Pete Bauer assumed firing positions behind the shattered and now burning sedan. The terrorists, taking cover behind their SUV, ducked again when remaining Marine Corporal and the two Petty Officers opened fire. The 9mm bullets smacked and pinged ineffectually into the red Expedition. When all three had emptied their weapons, they hid behind the bullet riddled Crown Victoria, continuing to use it as a shield.
AJ looked at Webb and his mixed squad, wishing he had a SEAL or two with him.
As gunfire continued to crackle around them, Admiral Chegwidden looked back at his beloved installation. The elaborate and detailed clay and concrete pots and walls were now bullet eaten or shattered. The elegant front door lamp lay in shattered ruins in front of the main entrance into the building.
Even the ornate and delicate looking ironworks that had graced the front area of the building were either bent into bizarre shapes or laying scattered and broken on the ground mixed with shards from the bullet riddled brick and concrete façade of the building. Most of the glass windows were gone. The window frames looked naked, with an occasional set of Venetian blinds swaying in and out of the windowless frames.
"Sir?"
It was the youngest Petty Officer, what was his name? AJ thought for a moment…Lewis, that's it.
"We're going to take up defensive positions just beyond the courtyard," he told Lewis and the rest.
"Does that include me, Admiral?"
Chegwidden was momentarily surprised by the Gunnery Sergeant's unexpected but welcome appearance.
"Good to see you Gunny,"
"Likewise, Sir,"
AJ spotted the tell-tale sign that Victor had been grazed by at least one bullet, and then he saw the tears in the corners of the man's brown eyes.
"Are you okay, son?"
"I'm fine Admiral, it's just a scratch," Victor said, not actually answering AJ's real question.
The former SEAL would have pressed the Gunnery Sergeant, but more serious matters had to be dealt with first. "Gunny, you'll lead the rescue and recovery team, we'll advance to the guard shack by bounds." Gunny nodded. AJ turned to a sailor holding the PRC radio. "Seaman! Try to raise the guards and let them know what we plan to do!"
The man fiddled with the military radio for a few anxious moments. He looked up at the Admiral frustration evident on his face.
"I'm trying Sir! They're not answering!"
"Dammit!" He looked over at the CIA Special Agent. The Admiral's options were limited for mounting a counterattack. The security company was scattered around JAG Headquarters, fighting where they stood. A few were with Major Clemons, a few more were with Commander Burford, but Gunny Brewster and Captain Jimenez were no where to be found. Where the devil were they?
He couldn't wait any longer. He looked at Gunny who silently nodded and then at Clayton Webb. He really hated the idea using this spook in any gunfight, much less a full fledged military attack, but he really didn't have any other choice.
"Webb! I hope you've had your pistol refresher training recently!"
Instead of looking stunned or scared, Special Agent Clayton Webb, cocked his 9mm Glock, slamming home a round into the chamber. "Lead the way, Admiral!"
(Well I'll be a son of gun,) thought AJ, (the man's grown a backbone; Mac must've rubbed off on him.)
The mixed squad led by the JAG, A Marine Gunnery Sergeant, and a CIA Agent began to make their way toward the guard shack.
Gibbs motioned to Tony; on a pre-arranged signal, Gibbs would kick open the door opening to the roof. Tony would aim high, and he would aim low. McBurney and Coleman had remained below with Ducky.
The door slammed open, startling the two man RPG team. Before they had a chance to react, the two NCIS agents fired, sending the two terrorists sprawling on the gravel and tarpaper roof.
Tony walked over and examined the two dead men, and shook his head as he looked back at Gibbs.
"Clear," announced the senior NCIS agent. He looked around as he spoke into his headset, "Captain, have your men get those civilians out of this block."
Another RPG round smacked into a nearby Chrysler LaBaron, turning it into an inferno. These RPG gunners were inexperienced, but sooner or later they were going to hit their target.
Jason Tiner looked through the smoky haze of burning vehicles at the front gates and the JAG Corps guard shack. Another 500 feet and they would have been safe inside the compound. Instead, they were using the bullet riddled Crown Victoria for a shield against the automatic rifles of the gunmen who were now in defensive positions on the other side of the Ford Expedition - but who's to say the terrorists wouldn't have followed them right into parking lot? One thing was certain; the longer they stayed here, the more likely they would die here.
Cassie Ramirez used her binoculars to scan the wreckage to their front. That last RPG round had cleared the lot of cars that that had been blocking her vision. Now she could see the Ford staff car sitting sideways just a few hundred feet from the installation entrance. Her heart sank when she saw Corporal Gadsden lying motionless beside the right front side of the car. Beside him crouched Pete Bauer, Jason Tiner and Jennifer Coates. Cassie knew at any moment those three would try to withdraw from their current precarious position and when they did, one, two, or all three would be killed or wounded unless someone covered their escape.
"I SEE THEM!" Sergeant Ramirez barked.
Corporal Burkett strained to see through the smoke. "WHERE MA'AM?"
"TWELVE O'CLOCK! 17 YARDS! COVER FIRE!"
Both Cassie and John opened up, hoping their aim was high enough not to hit Tiner, Coates or Bauer.
Carly and her squad weaving in and out of what few concrete and wrought iron tables were left intact, made their way around the shattered brick and decorative masonry wall in the JAG Corps courtyard. Carly quickly decided the most defensible position was the ornate masonry wall in front of the north side of the JAG Corps building. It would also allow them to check on Sergeant Ramirez, and draw a bead on the RPG teams firing into the JAG Corps' attorney parking area. Beyond those ruined vehicles, including her, Mercedes CLK was a row of oak, pine and maple trees. Beyond that was what remained of the visitor parking lot.
"SQUAD! DEPLOY SKIRMISH LINE! MARK YOUR FIRING LANES!"
Major Clemmon's squad, half Navy and half Marine, did as it was told. She had three naval file clerks, one of the court officers, two motor pool mechanics, two navy legalmen, one JAG staff assistant, one Marine file clerk, and two of Jimenez's men. The security platoon soldiers and Marine file clerk cleared their lanes first. The Major nodded to the file clerk, he was the closest thing she had to a sniper.
"Corporal! Harassing fire on that Expedition!"
"Aye Ma'am." The man adjusted the sight on his rifle and fired. His shot was high and wide, but the terrorists ducked nonetheless.
"Adjust for range and distance Corporal!"
John's squad made their way to the level part of the Headquarters' roof. Like Carly's unit, it was composed of Marines and naval personnel from the JAG Corps. John had a junior attorney, Lieutenant [junior grade] Rick Bernard; one naval legalman, one Marine legalman, two legal research assistants, two computer specialists, two cafeteria workers, two file clerks, and one Marine 2nd Lieutenant Ron Beck, fresh out of Naval Justice School. AJ had picked him to join the staff not only because he looked like an up and coming lawyer, but also because he had trained as sniper before he found law more to his liking.
A gray Nissan Altima disintegrated in the visitor parking lot, throwing debris every which way. It was obvious the RPG teams were bracketing their target. The next volley would drill into their cover. Pete knew it; Jason knew it; and Jennifer knew it.
Pete looked at the two Petty Officers. "We're gonna have to make a run for it!" It was at least 18 yards to the guard shack. They could see Cassie and John firing short bursts trying to keep the gunmen behind the Expedition pinned down.
Pete Bauer started to stand to return fire when a bullet spun him around and slammed him against the side of the sedan.
"PETE!" screamed Jen. They couldn't lose him too.
"I'm all right," he grunted through the pain as he slid down next to the two JAG Corps non-commissioned officers. Now they had a new problem to deal with. "They have snipers trying to keep us pinned down." He waved his hand at them "You two get going, I'll stay here…try to draw their fire."
"Belay that Corporal," snapped Jason. He grabbed Pete and slung his left arm over his shoulder.
Jen gave Jason a stern look. "Get going, I'll cover you,"
"What?" Jason's eyes bugged out in typical Tiner fashion.
"You heard me!" she insisted, "Get going Jason, I'll cover you!"
Jason was astonished at her determination. "You'll cover me? Jen! I can't let you do that!"
Jennifer Coates immediately became incensed at this macho display. "Why not?" she demanded hotly, "Can't have a woman protect your six?"
To Jason Tiner the answer was more academic. "I outrank you! Remember? Now get going! You have the information that Sergeant Givers and the Admiral need! Pete and I will follow!"
"No!" she snapped shaking her head. "You need help getting Bauer to cover, otherwise you'll be killed!" As if to emphasize her point, another sniper's bullet smacked into the smoldering sedan.
Jason hissed in frustration. "Fine! We'll both take him!"
"Do I get a say in this?" asked the Corporal, upset that neither one was listening to him.
"No!" They both barked at the JAG security officer, effectively silencing him.
As fire from the Expedition resumed, Jason sighed in resignation. "C'mon! Grab his shirt, I'll grab his good arm and we'll go on three!"
Jen nodded and grabbed hold of the man's uniform shirt. Pete was as tall as Jason but stockier. This would be just like those emergency live saving courses she had attended. She and Jason would have to pull with all their might.
-TBC…