Chapter 4
That afternoon, Huston gathered everyone in the barn, which he called the barracks because of the sleeping quarters in the large loft. He gathered the men around and led a meeting that felt more like a rally. He did a pretty good job of whipping the men into a frenzy. "….our armed forces and military have been fighting in these fake wars for oil, for power and money, and someone sure as hell is getting rich on the blood of good American patriots, but not us, that's for sure! We risk our lives and our health, and for what? What do we get out of it? I sure as hell didn't get rich putting my life on the line for them, did you? We come home to nothing. Our families abandon us, our government won't even pay for our health care. They just throw us back into society like we're trash. They used us over there, but once we're back, we're nothing! They won't listen to our demands; it's as if we have no voice! Well, I tell you, I am mad as hell, and you are, too! I can see it in your eyes, Rick, and yours, too, Tyler. Hell, I can see it in all of you! Do not let them defeat you! I will walk shoulder to shoulder with you, my brothers, and together we will fight back, and yell so fucking loud they can't help but hear us! Let me hear you yell! Let out that anger! Yeah, that's what I want to hear!"
No doubt about it, James Huston was a damned good speaker, lots of charisma, and he had no problem getting his audience to get on board the gun-toting train. By the time Huston had finished his rousing speech, every single one of the recruits was itching to get out there and shoot their oppressors down. Exactly who the oppressors were, Huston never said, simply that they would fight together and take back what was rightfully theirs.
The common denominator that bound these men together was painfully obvious: they all had some seriously suppressed anger, felt they'd been treated unfairly, were struggling financially, and were desperately afraid that what little they owned would be stolen by big business, or the government, or both. They felt helpless and James Huston was offering them a way to regain some sense of power.
Out of the nine men, five of them were former military, and a couple of the older men were disgruntled vets. Two of the recruits were gun enthusiasts who didn't seem to have a clear idea as to why they were there other than they'd get a chance to fire some rockets and somehow get even. It looked like Huston and Bob were the only two men who knew what was going on, and so far they'd kept their agenda close to the vest.
Afterwards, they all ate dinner together at a couple of big tables set up in the dining room. Despite the pep talk Huston had just given, the men talked among themselves about mundane things: sports and family and how much they hated their jobs. Stew and slices of white bread were doled out on metal plates like prison food. It made Tony crave for pizza with pepperoni and extra cheese – he would order enough for everybody if he could.
He made a point of striking up conversations with the other men, trying to get a feel for how serious they were about following Huston towards whatever glory he was talking about. It seemed that most of them were willing to follow such a leader without asking too many questions. Tony asked if the middle-aged man sitting next to him if he was ready for this. The man, who said his name was Sandy, shrugged and said in a defeated voice, "What else can I do?"
When they'd finished and most of the men had wandered off to a rec room set up with a pool table and TV, Tony and another man pitched in and cleaned up the kitchen. They'd finished, and Tony was just putting a bag of garbage outside in a big metal drum, when he heard a commotion out front. He stepped to the corner of the house, staying in the shadows, and saw Huston greeting a man who had just driven into the compound. They looked like best buddies, the way Huston clamped his hand on the new arrival's shoulder. What Tony found interesting was that when the new guy put his hand out to pat Bossy, the pit bull shrank back in fear.
By the time Tony had stepped back into the kitchen through the side door, Huston and his friend were in the front room, talking. The pit slunk past them, his ears laid close to his skull, and entered the kitchen. Tony pulled a piece of beef jerky out of his pocket and tossed it at the big dog's feet. Bossy snapped it up and a moment later was leaning against Tony's leg, asking for more. He tossed the dog the remaining piece of jerky, and held his hands out to show he had no more. "Sorry, bud. All gone," he said. Bossy looked at him with sad eyes. "This means we're friends now, right? No more trying to piss on Tony, okay?" The pit bull snorted and made his way to a dog bed in the corner, settling down with a great sigh.
Huston called out for Tony to join them, and introduced the newcomer as Justice Pinnell. In his fifties, Pinnell was fit, his stance like that of a soldier. He perused Tony with a hostile expression and sniffed as if he found him lacking. "You're the weapons specialist? Got any experience with explosives?"
Tony didn't like the way the man was sneering at him. "I know they make people sit up and listen. Not often you find a weapon that impresses and frightens the enemy," he said, paraphrasing from The Anarchist Cookbook.
Pinnell got right in Tony's face and demanded, "Anyone ever tell you, you got a smart mouth, Mayo?"
Tony straightened his back, practically standing at attention, and said, "All the time, sir. And it's DiMaio."
For a minute Tony thought this was it; he was going to be taken out back, shot in the head, and buried so deep in the woods nobody would ever find his body. But all of a sudden Pinnell laughed, a little wildly, and said, "Then it's about time someone teaches you how to build an ANFO bomb, dontcha think?"
"Thanks, but I'm gonna to stick to handguns."
Pinnell's grin disappeared and he pushed Tony against a wall. "Whoever said you had a choice, Mayo?"
Tony tensed up, his fists at his sides, but before the situation could escalate, Huston got between them. He laughed uneasily, his eyes darting between Tony and Pinnell. "Okay, let's stick to the program. Don't want to go scaring off the new guys, right Pinnell?" A look passed between the two men and Tony was surprised to see Pinnell back off. "We'll go talk to the recruits now," Huston said. He placed a hand on Pinnell's shoulder and gave Tony a small shove in the direction of the rec room. Once there, Huston announced to the recruits that Pinnell was a vet who'd seen his share of action, and they should listen and learn.
The guys gathered around, and Pinnell, enjoying the limelight, started telling a story about fighting in Iraq, and how he'd skinned a local man's entire family alive because the guy had fed him some false intel. Tony noticed that Bob stayed to the rear of the room, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. He did not like or trust Pinnell, that much was obvious, and Tony couldn't blame him. It didn't take a rocket scientist to see that Pinnell was nothing but trouble.
~ • ~ • ~ • ~
Even though he knew he wasn't going to be able to sleep, Tony was glad when the men headed for the barn. Cots were set up in the loft, which was roomy enough they didn't have to bunk on top of each other. If there was any heat source, Tony couldn't feel it. He kept his thermal underwear on to ward off the cold and pulled a heavy wool blanket over himself, longing for the comfort of his own bed with its soft sheets and down comforter. He also yearned for the company of his friends and colleagues, especially Gibbs. With a sigh, Tony reminded himself not to think about them, or how cut off he felt, and instead, to concentrate on the job at hand.
The next couple of hours, Tony thought up ways he could sneak into the basement so he could look over the plans for whatever scheme was being cooked up. Heavy weapons and explosives suggested an assault on a building or ship, rather than a kidnapping or assassination. With the amount of men involved, it had to be something big, maybe a government office or embassy. There was always some big event going on in DC, galas and fundraisers with $1000-per-person tickets, attended by dignitaries, politicians and military leaders. Attacking one of those affairs would certainly make a big impact.
Around 0200, Tony slipped on his boots and jacket, and went to use the latrine, located out behind the barn. The washhouse had running water and shower facilities, just like they had at summer camp he attended most every summer in his youth. When he was finished, Tony took the opportunity to do a bit of snooping. It was very quiet and dark, with a couple of exterior spotlights on the house and barn offering limited light. As he moved silently around the perimeter, he didn't catch sight of anyone guarding the place. Of course they were in a remote location, and the wall was formidable enough to keep out anyone but the most motivated of intruders.
Tony had barely made it back to the barn when he heard a growl behind him. He slowly turned and saw the pit bull standing five feet away, glaring at him. "Hey, puppy, good boy," Tony said quietly, hoping the dog didn't pick up on his fear. "Nice…uh.. nice Bossy." Shit, he was sweating bullets and any minute the dog would bark, and someone would appear and demand to know what the new recruit was doing wandering around the compound at night.
"How about we keep this our little secret?" Tony asked, keeping his voice low. The dog took a few steps forward and next thing he was nosing at Tony's groin, and then pawing at him. "C'mon, can't you go find a girl doggie? Or maybe a boy doggie to pick on?" Tony whispered, afraid to move. The dog wasn't giving up though, pawing hard enough for his claws to dig into his leg. It took a moment for Tony to remember he had a couple of power bars in his pocket. "You want a treat? Okay…" Slowly, Tony stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out the nut-and-grain bar. He'd barely stripped off the wrapping when the dog lunged, snatching the granola bar from hand in one big chomp. Tony was more than a little surprised to find he still had his fingers. They were slimed by dog slobber but all his digits were still present and accounted for. When Bossy had finished the bar, Tony pulled out a second one. He unwrapped it and tossed it several feet away. As soon as the dog went after the snack, Tony scrambled into the barn and closed the heavy door behind him with a sigh of relief.
He made it back to the loft and to his cot without anyone raising an alarm. To his surprise, he slept well, and was the last one in to breakfast.
~ • ~ • ~ • ~
For some reason, Huston seemed to like Tony (Tony had to remember to smile in his presence, and call him JT). Or maybe he thought he was useful to keep around. After breakfast, when it because apparent there was nothing on the agenda, Tony played up his McGyver skills and showed the men how to make a stun gun out of a fire starter. They really got into it, zapping each other and shouting whenever they themselves got stung. As Tony watched the men horsing around, he thought how his dad would never believe it if he told him that all those hours in front of the television had paid off.
Huston took Tony aside and told him he wanted him run combat drills, to get the guys in shape. Tony did as he was told, with a nod and a "Sure thing, JT." He based the exercises on those he'd done while at Remington, and had the men running around in the woods shooting at targets and practicing hand-to-hand combat. Some of the guys had surprisingly little weapons training, considering they were hell bent upon mounting an assault on an enemy target.
"What goes on during War Camp stays at War Camp!" Tony yelled, channeling Gibbs' Marine attitude. "I wanna see more gusto out of all of you! And you, probie, yeah you, if you don't point your weapon at the ground in the next two seconds I'm gonna head slap you all the way to DC!" Shit, the guys sucked it up so eagerly, you'd think they liked getting shouted at and run ragged.
~ • ~ • ~ • ~
Finally, that afternoon, Huston took the men down to the basement. There, the leader of the Warheads outlined his plan to launch an attack during a prestigious fundraising gala at the convention center. The lavish event, which would be attended by over a thousand of DC's elite, high-profile community leaders and politicians, was going to happen in two days' time. He went over the maps and diagrams with the attentive recruits, and reminded them how important this was to bring light to the government's chronically bad treatment of soldiers and sailors returning from active duty overseas.
When Huston outlined the plan, he spoke confidently, and with such zeal, that none of the men questioned him. They'd be divided into two units. Pinnell and his crew were going to place a truck bomb in the parking garage under the building. They would have to neutralize the guards on duty, and they should expect resistance. Huston's unit would go into the gala and kill all the military leaders in attendance. Once they'd taken out all the military attendees, they'd retreat and set off the bomb. He didn't go into details about how they'd get out, just assured them it would be a success if they worked together. Huston chose the men he wanted on his team during the attack, including Tony.
One of the recruits, the older man who Tony only knew as Irwin (he wasn't sure if it was his first or last name), had the balls to ask how they were going to get away with it, and the Warheads' leader smiled and bullshitted him that he had it all worked out. "Just follow my lead," he ordered. "We have the element of surprise and superior weapons. All you have to concern yourselves with is getting inside and taking out everyone wearing a uniform."
Tony made eye contact with Zander, the young, sullen recruit, and it was clear they were both wondering why nobody saw how crazy this whole setup was. Killing top military brass in order to improve treatment of returning soldiers? It sounded like the Warheads were hell-bent on shooting up a lot of innocent people and creating as much chaos as possible, and no way was Tony going to allow that to happen. The whole thing was insane, and they had to be stopped, even if there was only the slightest chance Huston's plan could be successful.
It looked like it was going to be up to him to get out of there and let NCIS know what was going on.
~ • ~ • ~ • ~
Everyone seemed to disappear around five. The recruits were unusually quiet and withdrawn; some were resting in their racks, and a few were playing cards on the porch. Bob was working on the engine of one of the jeeps out front, keeping his head down, it seemed. This didn't look like a bunch of men gung-ho about trooping off to kill the enemy; Tony wondered how many of them were thinking about making a break for the fence.
When Tony spotted Huston and Pinnell, slowly walking towards the far end of the compound, deep in conversation, he decided to take a little trip down to the basement. Might as well get photos of the plans before he left.
The basement door wasn't even locked. It was almost too easy. Tony got the photos he needed – and in record time. He stuck his phone in his back pocket, and was heading up the narrow stairs when a dark figure blocked his way. It was Zander, looking just about as startled as Tony felt. His expression soon turned suspicious and he demanded to know what Tony was doing.
Tony gave him an easy smile and said, "Just double-checking how much firepower we're going to need. Move. I have to get everything ready." For a moment he thought the young man was going to stop him, or worse, yell for help. He met Zander's eyes and said, "Please. Move aside." For some reason, that seemed to break the ice, and the kid stepped back into the hallway.
As Tony passed by, Zander grabbed his arm and said tersely, "You're gonna get yourself killed."
"Believe me, that's not my intention." Tony took a chance and said quietly, "Get out before this goes any further."
Zander's eyes widened. "I… don't know how to," he whispered.
Tony heard footsteps on the porch and saw Bob coming in. He pulled Zander into the kitchen and said in a low voice, "Watch for my signal."
Zander whispered, "When?"
"Tonight," Tony said, moving to meet Bob in the hall. "Hey Bob, didn't you say we were getting a delivery tonight? More weapons?" Tony heard a door close somewhere behind him, and gave an inner sigh of relief that Zander had made it outside.
"Yeah, RPGs. You know how to use them?"
"Sure. Rule number one, don't stand behind me when I launch one," Tony said with a grim smile.
"You ready for this?"
"Locked and loaded. Don't worry, all we have to do is follow the plan, right?"
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