CHAPTER 9
"Shadow to Eagle Eye, targets look like they've acquired you. They're on approach, fifteen meters and closing from approximate vector 120° relative."
"Roger that. Keep a close watch and get ready to turn the tables on these jokers."
"You got it."
The man who answered to call sign Eagle Eye peered through his digital SLR's viewfinder again. He was crouched behind a chain link fence up on an embankment overlooking a dilapidated building. The zoom lens enabled him to easily observe a pair of men armed with AR15s standing by the entrance of the sewer treatment plant the Los Angeles resistance adopted as its headquarters. The men looked far too relaxed, turning their heads to and fro, holding their assault rifles by the top-mounted carry handle.
Fucking amateurs.
And as he watched those men through the camera, he listened to a radio transmission only he could hear, a proximity countdown provided by call-sign Shadow through a discreet wireless radio earpiece.
Consequently, he was not surprised when someone poked him in the back with the barrel of a military-issue assault rifle..
"Are you looking for something, my friend?" said the man to Eagle Eye. The man had an unmistakable Mexican accent.
"Move the M16, or I'll make you eat it," Eagle Eye answered.
"How did you know that?" the Mexican said, surprise obvious in his tone. He looked back over his shoulder. "Hey, Mark, come here!"
Another man scurried from behind a car to a spot directly in front of Eagle Eye. This man wore glasses and a black leather bomber jacket, holding a snub-nosed revolver in his right hand.
He jabbed the short pistol at Eagle Eye's left armpit. "OK, no more pictures."
"You're in my way, piglet," said Eagle Eye as he shoved Bomber Jacket out of his way.
"You've got a nasty mouth on you, pal," said Bomber Jacket as he pushed the revolver harder into Eagle Eye's chest.
Eagle Eye stood up from his crouch, his face scrunched up as his eyes bored into Bomber Jacket's.
"You and me, we're gonna go for a walk," said the Mexican, likewise pushing the barrel of his assault rifle into Eagle Eye's back.
"Come on," said Bomber Jacket to Eagle Eye. "Let's go."
Eagle Eye just smiled at Bomber Jacket and his Mexican cohort, when a burly bearded man wearing an olive green military jacket and holding an Ingram MAC-10 machine pistol stepped out from behind his cover inside a beige van parked nearby.
"In about five seconds you're gonna be cloud dancin'," he drawled, pointing his weapon at Bomber Jacket and the Mexican in a way that made it clear he knew how to use it.
"Good work shadowing me," said Eagle Eye to the big man with the beard.
He hung his camera around his neck then confiscated Bomber Jacket and the Mexican's weapons.
"Hands behind your heads," the big bearded man said to Bomber Jacket and the Mexican, and both complied.
Eagle Eye turned towards resistance HQ. "They're all bottlenecked in there, front and back, just like we thought," he said. "This place isn't a camp; it's a tomb."
"Yeah," his big friend agreed as he kept Bomber Jacket and the Mexican covered. "Place sure looks different in the sunshine than it did last night, don't it? But, yeah, Intel got it right."
Eagle Eye nodded, then grabbed the Mexican by the sleeve of his denim jacket. "Come here, Slick." He pushed the Mexican towards a footpath down the embankment towards the rebel hideout, then grabbed Bomber Jacket by the coat collar and instructed him to follow the Mexican. "Mr. Macho Man, I want to talk to your boss."