Shock and Awe Chapter 8. Dispatch

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Chapter 8. Dispatch

Stepping out of the air-return shaft, he pressed a button in his pocket.

Little more than a car door remote.

Above, in the ventilation duct, an electronic board received his signal, inflating the folded square of cloth that tightly fit inside the plenum, blocking all fresh air from being delivered to the lower floors, becoming an effective cork.

The intruder gently rolled two smoke canisters to each end of the hallway and pressed the button on a spray can, deploying a vapor that smelled like melting plastic.

A dispatcher that was questioning the radio traffic, was turning to her supervisor to say there was something wrong when she saw smoke and smelled wires burning.

“FIRE!”

As one, the dispatchers all stood up and made for the smoke-filled hallway.

Suddenly blocked by a man in a mask and leather jacket.

“No fire, just attention-getter. Please, everyone lay down.”

In the far end where officer Davies sat, she brought out an AR-15 that out on the first alarm of an attack.

The intruder rolled multiple stinger grenades into the dispatch center that detonated rapidly, causing Davies to duck and take stock that she was still alive.

Too late to stop the intruder who had plugged into a USB port with his equipment and pressed a button, data surged through the now-allowed hardware that rebooted the entire dispatch system.

The officer, deciding the grenades did not injure her permanently, took position and tried to take a sighting on the intruder through the smoke. But there were too many obstacles, the air was too murky to shoot at a shape with people sitting up when the monitors went dark.

Someone yelled “RUN!” and twenty people scrambled for the stairwell.

Officer Gwen Davies grabbed the phone and tried to call the watch commander’s cell phone.

“Hello.”

“Lieutenant! He is down here in dispatch!”

“Shit! On our way.” The masculine voice broke the connection. Gwen looked at the phone for a moment, she thought Leslie Murrie was on duty.

Her radio on her hip buzzed on a person-to-person frequency. “…Davies.”

“Go ahead for Davies.”

“It’s Russ, I’m coming your way to back you up, this place is on fire,”

“No, we have the intruder here, he’s smoke-bombed us.” She said quietly. “He is here in dispatch.”

“Enroute. I have contact with the watch commander, I’ll tell her.”

“Who is on tonight?”

“Leslie Murrie. Why?”

“There was a male voice that answered the watch commanders phone.”

“Could have been one of the other guys. Shit is going bad up there. We have officers down.”

“Okay, get here as soon as possible, I’m pinned down and he has explosives.” She looked again. “I can’t see because of the smoke, and he is  moving so I can’t get a clear shot.”

“Copy, I’m at the end of the hall. He has to come past me or you to leave the floor. I can’t see shit with all this smoke, why is this floor not venting?”

Pops of gunfire sounded.

“He’s shooting! Small caliber!”

Gwen dove through the door, flashes of his weapon illuminated the smoke. She aimed about leg high and laid grazing fire down the hallway.

A scream from the smoke.

BOO-YA! She bagged a bad guy! This gave Gwen a savage pleasure.

“I’M HIT!” 

Shit! She knew that voice, she was just listening to it on her phone.

It was Russ!

Gwen got to her feet and moved from side to side of the hallway. The heavy smoke was acrid in her nose, it was military spec smoke. She knew the smell intimately from her time in the service and the smoke grenades are easy to get from the internet. She passed by the data center and tried the door.

Locked. It was always locked. The window was intact and it was clear inside.

As she stepped away, a movement caught her eye as she passed the window. She stepped back and looked again. Staring and tried the door once more.

Locked, positively locked. She looked up and down the door, nothing wrong with the door, no tamper marks, but, on the floor, something odd.

A bit of cardboard with bar codes on it. She left it alone, dropping a folded notepaper over it in the shape of a tent.

Walking a step farther, paper tatters all over the place.

Firecrackers.

The asshole faked shooting, now she shot Russ.

Russ was on the ground, blood had sprayed on the wall directly behind him. The bullet had grazed his calf, giving him a groove in his muscle the size of her index finger to fit in.

“You will be fine, it is just a flesh wound.”

“Oh yeah, they say that, but they never said that it hurts like a bitch!” Russ said, rocking back and forth, holding his leg up. “Damned thing throbs!”

“Did he come this way?”

“What?” The question distracted him from his pain for a moment. “No. I saw a shadow in the smoke, then he started shooting, but no one came this way.”

“He had to go back into dispatch and he is in there somehow.”

The elevator door opened and eight SWAT officers stepped out, seeing the bleeding brother on the floor, the leader motioned to one of the heavily armed officers who stooped next to him and applied a pressure dressing. It was a SWAT medic.

“You got him?” The masked swat officer asked Gwen.

“Yeah.” And she pulled Russ to his feet and headed to the open elevator.

She smiled grimly, bad guy screwed the pooch now.

SWAT was the best of their best.

Gwen would pay good money to see this bastard get taken down by the team.

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Shock and Awe Chapter 6 The Chief

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Chapter 6. The Chief

The first of the units closest to the police department came down the main drag with its lights and sirens on full, going through a red light at over eighty miles-per-hour. The patrol car collided with the back-end of a delivery truck as it crossed with its green light. The impact spun the truck off the street and backwards into the oldest eatery in downtown, “Mongolian bbq” restaurant, spilling the contents destined for “Shannon’s Vip Lounge and Bar”— thirty cases of scotch, vodka, rum and tequila.

Employees of the restaurant used every single fire extinguisher they could to prevent the spread of fire on the ethanol that spread over the floor and filled the old building with flammable vapor.

The patrol car careened across the sidewalk and into a glass wall of a Lawman’s Bank. Lawman’s was the first bank in town and owned by the first town sheriff for his deputies.

Chief of police Steven Whiting, hearing that an accident occurred redoubled his efforts to get through the traffic from inland, heading to the coast and the family breadwinners as they headed home.

He pressed harder on the throttle of the hemi-powered SUV that served as his command vehicle surged forward down the middle of the highway in the turning lane.

*THUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMP*

“Dammit!” The vibration came through his steering wheel as he pushed over to the side and cut his lights. Not sure what was the problem, he took his hand-held mini-sun (”At full power guaranteed second only to a laser”) and looked at his tires.

There! On the left rear tire in the middle of the tread, a metallic hex-head of a bolt. Debris in the turning lane took him out of the ride. Returning to the driver door, he opened it and grabbed the radio, cursing the earth, the miners of iron, smelters of steel and bolt-makers in general, he called to get a roadside assistance and get any close units to pick him up.

Spinning the CAD computer display so he could see it, X-Adam-2 was behind him coming up. A swat prepped car, it carried basic swat equipment in it with two trained officers. Designed to prevent the spread of a situation or back up Baker units until the arrival of more — if needed — equipment and personnel.

Swearing again. At least he would have someone left with the chief’s car until the road service came and replaced the tire.

More reports of multiple explosions inside the headquarters, a responding unit has been in a TC with a fire. The emergency beep on the radio sounded again. Once every twenty-seconds, a small tone beeped to let everyone know to keep the channel clear except for emergency traffic. He read down the incident notes.

Administration channel was quiet and he asked for an update.

“We have fire and EMS en route to the accident scene, fire and EMS going to the incident at the station. Captain Sams has taken over from Sargeant Murrie and has set up a triple perimeter and has set up a remote area for the media. Air cover is not available for at least a half-hour. They are en route, but returning from duty inland and will need to refuel before they can respond.”

“Copy.Have Xray-Adam-2 to stop and pick me up. I am stopped with a flat tire.”

“Affirmative.” A pause. “ETA two-minutes.”

The Adam unit was closer than it showed on the computer display.

“Copy, thank you.”

 

Shock and Awe Chapter 5. Elevator

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Chapter 5. Elevator

Attaching the cap to an anchor— in this case the double-barreled flintlock laid across the vent— by a hook hidden in the fur lining of his cap, Radio Check dropped down for the briefest of moments and pressed the call button on the elevator for down. Then, using the winch he lifted back up to his hiding hole, noting as he did so that there was an air return vent about ten-paces back. An air return might connect to the elevator shaft, this was a good development.

Elevator dinged and the doors opened to an empty lift. He positioned himself when he heard another boom echo down the air-vents. It was a different texture, a stun grenade from the police. They had tossed one into the men’s room. They were close to finding they were breaching an empty room.

Odd. He had not heard the stinger grenades go off. They still would stay clear the room after that event until the swat swept the room for more booby-traps. If they so much as nudged the chair that the stinger was under, the little concealed ramp would fall and roll it into the middle of the room where it would burst with a thousand little low density polymer balls.

Much like a super-powered airsoft toy weapon, this would hurt, just not kill.

Slipping down, he put his backpack into the lift and pressed the “B-2” button, not waiting for the door to close, he opened the service hatch in the ceiling and climbed up, using a parachute cord to pull his equipment up on top of the elevator car.

The elevator stopped as commanded at the second basement level where the dispatch center was. It was much cooler down at that level, much of the cooled air directed into the data center by the vents kept the temperature in the acceptable range and he found the exhaust vent easily. Spring releases on each corner and the vent that serviced the entire floor was open. Easily large enough to let him sit upright with his tools.

Service inspection panels every ten meters were large enough for a man to step through and he opened the first one and stepped out on the catwalk that ran between the fresh air and the air return. Opening the fresh air access panel to the plenum inside, he pulled a folded object out of his backpack, peeled off a plastic outer layer and stuck it in the filtered, cool air stream and replaced the hatch. Stepping into the return-air duct, he closed the service hatch. And crawled along the large metal tube, looking into offices, now mostly empty except for dispatch. Computer screens all over the place, people standing or sitting at consoles that raised or adjusted to their preference of sitting or standing.

CAD systems tracked patrol cars all around the city, including the Sheriff’s units. Combined command and control let him see every unit. Looking at the legends of colors, blue, green, yellow and red told him where each patrol car, swat vehicle, command vehicle and administrator was.

They were all at or on their way to one spot.

A rumble echoed through the system made him smile, he knew that sound well.

The stinger grenades had gone off.

Placing a magnet-backed blinking green led on the inside of the plenum, he now had a marker on where dispatch was without looking for it again.

Radio Check smiled, the operation was successful to this point as he accomplished the difficult part  in misdirection. The officers attacking an empty room, now two floors above.

Shock and Awe Chapter 4 Swat Point of View

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Chapter 4. Swat Point of View

 

Blinded and deafened. Eight officers and a watch commander staggered out the door, calling for immediate backup and EMS over her radio.

“We have a multi-casualty event, I am declaring an MCI. We have ten officers needing assistance in the foyer of the police headquarters. We have a suspect in a shooting barricaded inside. We are withdrawing outside the front door.”

Looking around, she picked up the ram, bumping the chair it leaned against as she did so.

Something rolled out and a lever popped off.

OhFUCK! Grenade!”

The grenade burst, but it was different this time.

This time it was a stinger

Pellets flew everywhere, a few striking two objects stuck into the acoustic tile in the ceiling.

Two more stinger grenades with spikes thrown up to the panels, stuck-fast and remained armed with hair-wires that waited for something to touch them.

Like a pellet.

Two more explosions of the polymer-bead laden grenades overlapped each other.

The air became thick with three-thousand randomly directed high-velocity pellets, leaving welts on the officers and clerks convinced, with screams of pain, that shrapnel was shredding them.

Sergeant Leslie Murrie’s left side of her face was on fire as if someone had slapped her, hard. Holding a hand to her face, it throbbed and felt like the skin was falling off.

Backup! We need backup! We have bombs in the foyer and people down!” She tried to use a controlled, calm voice but it came out as a shriek as she staggered out the doors with the other entry team members, choking and stumbling.

She was the last one to leave the seating area, leaving after even the worst hurt of the clerks and officers that had stumbled or tripped during the fourteen explosions and something that just plain hurt.

“Backup en route.” It was dispatch, speaking as calmly as if giving a weather report.”Mutual-aid Sheriff, swat and all patrol units en route to your location. Stand-by for ETA.”

“Disregard ETA update, just get them here.”

“Acknowledged.”

This annoyed Leslie that they were so calm, but then, they were three floors underground and isolated from this bad-guy that made a wreck of the foyer and her team.  But, she was wrong about dispatch being isolated.

Extremely wrong.

Shock and Awe Chapter 3: Office

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Chapter 3. The office

 

Quietly pushing up into the HVAC, the old style air chamber was not engineered for constant air velocity which was good for him, because all his equipment fit, even the big flintlock.  He climbed up and crawled through the space where there were no locks or doors towards the back of the building without the worry of being challenged, making good time. Counting to the tenth vent, he quietly opened it.

Dropping down into the watch commander’s office, he plugged in a USB memory stick to the back of the computer. He stretched outUSB data cord  and plugged the other end into his tablet computer and overrode the fragile operating system written by a small team in Washington State.

In thirty seconds his clock ran out and knew it was time to go when the first of the impacts of the breaching ram hit the men’s room door.

The police only had to get it open just enough for the trip-wire flashbang grenade to pull loose and roll into the foyer where the group of police stood. Two more grenades would go off. One more flashbang and a stinger grenade, it would be an exciting evening for the local law enforcement in Croix Bay.

Back up he climbed. The furry hat with its little winch hidden inside did its job well as it assisted him to climb back up into the plenum chamber of the air delivery system of the main floor of the police department.

A series of booms echoed along the airshaft, the police had succeeded in forcing the armored door, designed to protect people in case of an attack, with their battering ram. They had a shock when the booby-trapped door rolled out a multi-bang stun grenade. He tucked an earplug in his opposite ear to protect on the next series of bangs that he knew were coming and continued to crawl along the tube that was not listed. It ran along the path of the smaller plenum chamber that was in the blueprints. This was a fortunate, but worried him, if they had engineered the airflow so to keep the air velocity up, he could be compromised and need to change the plan.

Turning the corner, he peeked down a vent, hanging half down the hole and saw that he was right in front of the elevator, behind a camera that looked down the hallway in the opposite direction, just as shown in the plans.

Excellent.

 

Shock and Awe Chapter 2: Assault

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Chapter 2. Assault

Watching the sign in front of the police department headquarters count down to midnight. A slight change in how the clock looked and they added seconds. and they synced the clock to internet time. Then it clicked over to the next hour.

“Eighteen-hundred tone.” It would be the last transmission for a while unless things went sideways. A small tone sounded in the earphone, it was an electronically generated tone of 2600 hz sound and now everyone knew that they were now on the clock.

The Grizzly Adams wannabe walked through the doors of the foyer that remained unlocked twenty-four hours a day to deal with business that always seemed to find its way to the clerk’s window. Fix-it tickets signed off, complaints filed, young reporters reading the register right up to midnight, trying to be the first to pick up on something interesting.

The clerk looked up and was momentarily startled by the view of the mountain man walking through the doors, she started to smile. It was not uncommon to see dressed up people this time of year, even if he was a bit early in the season.

Mountain Man walked up towards the window, it was very thick polycarbonate bullet resistant panel bolted to very thick polycarbonate and required the use of speakers and microphones to communicate.

She was just asking if she could help him when he stopped and smiled. “Sorry for this.”

Then he aimed the long rifle— it was as long as she was tall— and he said in a conversational tone.

“But… Duck.”

Kirsten Kloster screamed as she hit an alarm button and ducked. The report of both barrels of the blackpowder long gun rocked the very floor of the room.

Something fell on Kirsten, she screamed as it sounded like the wall fell over.

It had, the impact of twin chunks of lead with a collective kinetic energy greater than the window mounts could withstand. The bullet resistant barrier fell in, followed by a dense choking cloud that smelled of sulfur. Bob Adkins, the other clerk was screaming into a radio for help.

Alarms sounded and magnetic plates locked the doors in place, normally left open round the clock, now they were solid and immovable. There was no more shooting and radio traffic said that back-up was two-minutes away, everyone was responding from all points.

Footsteps pounded up stairs as seven police officers ran from the downstairs armory towards the foyer up the steps. They burst through the door that prevented anyone from going into the back offices unchecked and began choking on the smoke that was dissipating in the large room.

Looking about, the officers covered the room with multiple layers of crisscrossed laser sights.

“Where is the shooter?” Shouted the watch commander.

“He was there!” Adkins yelled and pointed to the middle of the room.

“Sweep the area. Check the restrooms.” The watch commander Sargent Leslie Murrie said as she surveyed  the destroyed window, torn from the mountings of the three-clerk wall.

“Miss Kloster, what window were you standing at?”

“I don’t know, the middle one. He said to duck before he pulled the trigger.”

“He said … Duck?” Leslie said in disbelief. “If he was shooting, why did he give a warning and why did he aim at a window that no one was at?”

“Sargent! He has blocked the Men’s room door.”

“Call him out.” Standing on either side, an officer banged on the door. “

Sir! Come out now. You have no exit, there is no window in there. Sir! Come out with your hands empty, arms up and walk backwards out of the door!”

There was no sound other than footsteps coming down the hallway of the swat team that had geared up rapidly with forced entry tools and stun “flashbang” grenades. And a favorite tool for forced entry, someone brought the two-man ram to force a door.

Pushing on the steel restroom door, it did not give even a little. He had thrown the emergency deadbolt. A twin-bolt lock with a key required on either side to throw the bolts without setting off the alarm.  Without a key , he had to have picked it from the inside to activate the lock.

“Kirsten, key please.” It was Jake, a ten-year patrolman that enjoyed driving. Even if his history had a long record of destroyed patrol cars, to his credit, he had never hit any moving object. Always trees, fences, one mailbox, ditches and only one fatality of running over Marty MacBean the mascot at the MacBean’s chili house.

The plastic head of Marty MacBean still adorned the squad room after two years.

The key refused to slide into the lock, on close inspection, the unknown subject had jammed toothpicks into the keyhole.

“Fuck it, use the ram.”

“Sir!” Jake pounded on the door.”Sir come out, if we have to come in it will not go well for you.”

Sirens sounded outside, approaching patrol cars were responding code-3 on a call for an emergency.

“Cancel them, Kirsten.” Leslie said. “We have him contained.”

“Sir,” Jake repeated with pounding. “That was a good trick with the toothpicks, you need to unlock the door and come out or we are coming in.”

“Ram it.” Jake nodded. “Toss in one of your party poppers when you get it open.”

Two of the biggest officers rushed up and swung the thirty-kilo battering ram. The door barely rattled in the hinges and failed to open, twice— three times. Four. Five! The fire-rated steel door did not give easily.

With redoubled effort, the two big men hit the steel-clad and core fire-rated door with a design to resist an assault and be a panic room shelter. Twenty strokes, the door bowed in as they forced their way. A gap opened the width of half of a hand and something rolled out, it was a cylinder about as thick as a flashlight and as long as a hand was wide, and attached to a short cord that pulled a pin as the cylinder reached the end.

“GRENADE!” Leslie yelled. The detonation was not half has loud as the whistle, but it was as bright as if one would to look directly into the sun for a blink of an eye.

And again! The whistling sound it produced was painful.

And again! The light made bones in one of the officers hands that he covered his face with, visible as shadows for a moment. Five times in all the cylinder puffed out a cloud of dust and ignited it with deafening booms.

The shock could be felt in the very core of their chests, cups fell off of desks, papers ruffled and fell to the floor.

And another cylinder hidden against the wall behind a plastic waiting chair was jarred loose from the explosions and fell to the floor and popped off it’s spoon on impact with the tile.

And deafened them with another five blinding explosions with whistles that exceeded comfort levels.

“Throw one in!” Leslie yelled. “WHAT?”

The SWAT team member yelled.

“I will throw in now.”

“I had said that.” Leslie yelled back. The officer looked at her oddly as he pulled the pin on a flashbang and tossed it into the opening.

But dizzy and dazzled, mostly deaf by the ten flashbangs that had been left for them. He missed.

“FUCK! GRENADE!”

BOOM!

For the eleventh time the police endured  the concussion and flash of a flashbang grenade in an enclosed space.

Shock And Awe: a Short Story

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Shock And Awe

Chapter 1. Radio Check

Night came early this time of year and was as any night in the busy city by the harbor. Located in the hills above the Pacific Coast of the American western states, it was a crossroads from the coast to those that traveled to play in the mountains or returned to go back to school or the mundane misery of work.

All but one person.

He walked down the street, a curious looking fellow. Dressed in an over-sized leather jacket, rawhide pants and a calico print shirt. On his back, an archaic backpack of recent construction. Every tied knot perfect, each pocket stuffed full. On the left side he had tied frying pans and the right was a canteen that was as equally ancient looking.

He wore a cap made of some fur-bearing animal with a tail that hung down the back of his head. Dense black fur kept his head covered and from it hung a leather eye-covering mask with tiny holes. A defense against snow-blindness when it was necessary. Tonight was cold, but no snow had fallen yet in the year, it was still early in the season. Not even the holiday shoppers had even begun their purchases in earnest.

Still, he was a man out of time. Maybe not a serious turn of the eye for most folks at night— it was not out of the question for the odd wanderer to travel through by way of train that ran through the community of seventy-five thousand souls.

In his hands, however, he carried a long weapon. As ancient as the style of clothing he wore, as if he dressed for Halloween early, or a mountain man convention. The flintlock was, by outward appearances, perfect in every way to the cursory inspection.

This old style weapon, however, was different. Double-barreled, twin flint locks and double-set triggers with a select lever. He could choose between either one or both barrels. In the days of history past, this would be a heavy artillery item in combat.

Today, it was little different, there would be no open combat, there was another mission at hand. The mountain man stood in the shadows of a parking structure, standing across from the police headquarters.

Police main station, a tribute to late 1960’s construction, with regular remodeling over the years that extended its useful life. Every permit, every plan drawn up part of public record if one knew where to look.

The mountain man had looked, along with his team, at all the blueprints, permits and plans. Every single one.

“Radio service, radio check.” He spoke quietly, his long, scraggly beard hiding the microphone at his throat. The earphone hidden by his cap.

“Five by five.”

It was only to let them know he was ready. In the sky, he watched a dark shape float by, listening hard, he could just hear a faint whirring sound, then a parachute-slowed payload dropped quietly on the roof of the police structure.

“Parcel delivered.” The earphone whispered in his ear.

The assault had begun.