Chapter 21 – A very unusual team

After a change of planes and six hours travelling they finally arrived at Jackson Evers Airport, Mississippi. Don and Jo followed Mac from the plane and were surprised to see a welcoming committee waiting for them. Don grimaced.

"Not them again."

Jo couldn't say she was happy to see Wright and Wong again. However they were both surprised at what followed. Somehow the tables seemed to have turned. Special Agent Wright immediately stuck out a hand. "Detective Taylor, we got your message Sir and we have transportation waiting." He turned to acknowledge Don and Jo clearly more than a little surprised to see them. "If you'll follow me. We have accommodation arranged a few miles from the rendezvous. I've got men sitting on it as we speak. There's been no activity since we last spoke." Mac, Don and Jo followed the two agents through the airport to a side door which gave onto a small private parking lot where two anonymous looking cars were waiting for them. Wright and Wong took the first car while the driver of the second rushed to grab their bags. Don took the passenger seat while Jo and Mac took the rear of the car. No sooner were they seated than Don twisted round in his seat to look at Mac questioningly. Mac's eyes flitted between him and Jo who was looking almost as mystified.

"What?" he asked. "You didn't think I was going to take on Cyrus Mason, Victor Gaunt and an entire gun-running operation by myself did you?"

Don and Jo gave wry laughs and settled in for the ride. It would be dark by the time they arrived and it looked like it was going to be a long night. Conversation was kept to a minimum during the drive, each lost in their own thoughts as they processed the information that Mac had related during the flight. Don couldn't help being impressed by Mac's capacity for noticing details and putting two and two together. A tattoo on Victor Gaunt's arm had led Mac to boxing club in Miami. A background check had shown that one of the other members was Gaunt's cousin Ryan, a former Marine who had left to work in the private sector as a military contractor. Through some military contacts that Mac was particularly vague about Don learned that Ryan Gaunt was currently in charge of a facility designed to train army, navy and marine units in simulated combat conditions. The tone with which Mac said it led Don to believe that he meant special forces training but he refused to be drawn any further.

It was indeed dark by the time they arrived. The motel seemed to appear out of nowhere. It was your typical Mom and Pop establishment that looked as though it had been built in the seventies. Set back from the road it boasted a flickering neon sign, two rows of doors set at right-angles comprising a dozen or so rooms, a house for the owners that also served as reception and a diner which, much to Don's disappointment, was already closed for the night. Don unfolded himself from the front seat. The late night air was chill and he shivered after the warmth of the car. They retrieved their bags and followed the two FBI agents into the reception. As he expected Pop was behind the desk. He was in his sixties with greying hair and sported a red checked shirt and a large moustache. He nodded a greeting clearly not surprised to see this many new arrivals late at night. Don, however, was surprised to see a large lobby that doubled as a breakfast room. It confirmed his impression that the place had been built in the seventies. Everything was orange, brown and old gold. The two worn but clean couches and three armchairs were all occupied by four men and a woman who were evidently waiting on them as they all sat a little straighter the minute they walked in. Two of the men were clearly FBI. Don frowned at the other three not sure what to think. Military? The oldest of them, a solid man with a tight brush of sandy hair and a weather-beaten craggy face stood and crossed the room in a couple of strides.

"Mac Taylor! You crazy sonofabitch!"

Mac grinned and shook his head in amusement. "Hello Harry. It's been a while." The two men shook hands warmly.

Harry Fisher clapped Mac on the shoulder and looked him up and down, eyeing the fading scars on his face and arms with a professional eye. "What the hell you been up to? You look like shit!"

Mac huffed. "Let's just say the last week or so hasn't been a walk in the park." Harry arched an eyebrow but didn't say more. "Let me introduce you. Detectives Jo Danville and Don Flack. Jo Don, this is a good friend, Harry Fisher. He's with USMC CID."

Military Police. That explained it. Don smiled as he shook hands. Harry introduced them to his two colleagues, Steve Briggs a solidly built African American who had a broad grin and a grip like a vice. Don just managed to refrain from wincing when they shook hands. And Kate Moore, a taciturn woman who did little more than nod though Don began to fear for his fingers as he discovered her grip was as firm as Steve's.

Then Agent Wright introduced them to his team. Agents Roach and Garrett who Don happily learned were called Ben and Jerry. Both men were around 5' 11'', short cropped hair and had the same stern expression that clearly stated the FBI didn't have a sense of humour. Don however was pleased to discover that Steve did as he smothered a snigger at the same as Don earning himself a dig in the ribs from Kate which matched the one Jo gave him. Wright explained that he had two more men, O'Neill and Watson out on duty. Don was disappointed that they turned out be called Nigel and Otis which ruined his theory on partner naming in the FBI.

As they settled down in the lounge, a swing door opened and a small rotund woman emerged with the largest coffee-pot Don had ever seen. She set it firmly on a large wooden sideboard that was clearly the breakfast bar. "Thought you folks might like coffee," she announced in a voice that gave them the impression she wouldn't take no for an answer. She whirled away and came back with a tray laden with cups, cream and sugar and much to Don's joy a large basket of freshly made muffins. No sooner had she put them down and than he and Steve edged closer to grab one. Kate Moore who was sat opposite Jo caught her eye and rolled them heavenwards indicating that clearly Steve and Don had another thing in common apart from their dry sense of humour. Don poured coffee for Jo and Mac and they got down to business.

Agent Wright cleared his throat. "I take it our agreement still stands," he asked tentatively. Jo arched an eyebrow wondering exactly what agreement Mac had made and when. The atmosphere bristled with tension as it always did when rival agencies sat down together. Jo wondered who was going to take the lead.

"That's correct," Mac began. "This is a joint operation. We each have a stake in the outcome." Mac looked around at the assembled company. "The FBI want Cyrus Mason and his organisation. CID wants Ryan Gaunt and his suppliers, the NYPD wants Victor Gaunt and we all want to prevent a terrorist attack on American soil." The tension in the air was almost palpable. "Now to ensure we're all on the same page here's what we know so far." Everyone leaned forward imperceptibly hanging on his every word.

"Mason and Gaunt have gone to ground but, according to Agent Wright, other known associates have suddenly gone off the grid too." Mac looked at Wright.

He nodded as Wong passed out sheets of paper. "These are the men we suspect of helping him. We have tails on two of them. They are holed up in a motel about twenty miles from here. So far they're keeping a low profile, sticking to their rooms, ordering pizza. They're waiting for something." Everyone studied the sheets with nine photographs, some police mug shots, others snapped in the street. Each picture had a name and a brief description. Jo shuddered. They all looked like hard men. "Local PD are discretely checking other motels in the area for the others."

"Our belief is..." Mac continued. "...that they will rendezvous at the Centre for the deal. Mason must have had someone ready to cut the diamonds or he's already sold them and got cash. The evidence indicates that Mason is sourcing his arms through Ryan and Victor Gaunt." Mac nodded at Harry Fisher.

"Ryan Gaunt is licensed to purchase arms for training purposes for use at the Centre. He has purchased army surplus and forged ties with a number of Army and USMC supply depots around the country." Fisher looked uncomfortable for a moment but continued. "To cut a long story short let's just say we discovered that over the past year he has purchased far more than the Centre should need for training purposes and that in the weeks following his purchases stock checks revealed large numbers of missing items."

"What kind of things?" asked Don.

Harry grimaced and nodded to Kate. Apparently from memory she reeled off a list of weapons and ammunition that would make anyone wanting to start a small war very happy indeed. Everyone in the room cringed when, in addition to handguns and rifles, she mentioned land-mines, grenade launchers and anti-personnel mines.

There was a moment's silence then Harry continued. "We currently have a quartermaster under lock and key who has admitted to passing weapons destined for destruction to Gaunt. He was promised an additional fifty percent if he could deliver by this week. Whatever is happening, it's going down soon."

There was a pause as Wright's phone rang. He took the call, listened intently for a moment then hung up. "It's definitely going down here. Local PD says they've formally identified three more of Mason's men holed up in a hotel about twelve miles north of the Centre."

"Any news from there?" asked Mac.

Wong shook his head. "It's all quiet. Ryan Gaunt is there. He has accommodation at the site as do four of his instructors but there's no sign of them. The others are family men and come in from the nearby town. I don't think they're involved in any of this. I spoke with the local police chief earlier this evening. He said that one of the families has gone away on vacation and the other two were out enjoying a barbecue. His deputy knows one of the families well. He stopped by to have a casual chat and he says that they were all suddenly given a week off. No explanation."

"Sounds like Gaunt wants them out of the way," commented Steve. "It's got to be going down this weekend."

Mac nodded. "That's what we think, mostly likely tomorrow night or perhaps the day after." He straightened up. "So get some rest. We'll gather again tomorrow at oh eight hundred." There was a general shuffling and Kate, Steve and the FBI men stood up. Pop who had been discretely lurking by the counter took this as a sign they were heading to bed and shuffled over with a set of keys. He proffered them to Mac who, after a quick glance, handed one to Jo and one to Don.

Jo took hers with trepidation. Something didn't feel right but she couldn't put her finger on it. They began filing out of the lounge. She watched Mac pick up his bag and sling it over his shoulder then it struck her. He was carrying his army kit bag and he had slipped back into military terminology. She watched as he and Harry Fisher wandered outside, their heads bent in quiet conversation. Her sensation of disquietude deepened. She had a feeling that this wasn't going to be the usual run-of-the-mill take down. She felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked up to see Don at her shoulder.

"It'll be okay. You'll see."

She hoped he was right.

.

Jo made her way to her room. Mac and Harry were still stood in the cold night air deep in conversation. She slipped the key in the lock and entered, closing the door quietly behind her. The room was plain but clean. There was a double bed with a deep blue counterpane on her right, set against a bed-head with built in lamps and radio. In front of the window sat an armchair and a small coffee table. An ancient-looking television was bolted to a shelf high on the wall opposite the bed. No remote control. Jo crossed over to one of the doors opposite. She pushed it open to discover a tiny bathroom. There was a plain white bath with a shower, a washbasin and a lavatory. There was a strong smell of disinfectant. The only decoration was the dark blue shower curtain and a tiny basket containing a miniature bar of soap and a bottle of shampoo. Jo dumped her bag on the bed and pulled back the old-fashioned counterpane. The sheets underneath were white and starched. Not exactly the height of luxury. She sighed and dropped onto the corner of the bed, a sudden wave of loneliness coming over her.

An odd noise attracted her attention. She looked up. There was a strange scratching sound coming from the other side of a door that stood at right-angles to the closet and the bathroom. Curious she crossed over and pulled at the handle. It was locked. A voice from the other side told her to use her key. She retrieved the key, turned it in the lock and opened the door. Mac was leaning nonchalantly against the door at the other side. He had the most wicked smile on his face.

"Fancy that! Adjoining rooms!"

.