King of All I Survey
Chapter 77: "Fear is the Mind-Killer"

Chapter 77: "Fear is the Mind-Killer"

"If I were planning this," Dad said, "I’d have a back-up plan. Give the paramilitaries inside the building the description and location of the black dot people we haven’t identified inside. Have them watched. Make sure the drones have line of sight to them for lasers."

"Would they send them inside if they were going to blow up the building?" I asked.

"Let’s just wait and see. There’s six minutes before the police vehicle was going to go into action. I’d guess they’d make the verbal threat first, then the RPGs would start launching. Let’s see if our black dots try to leave the building before then." Dad said.

I shrugged, "OK. But no shooting without my direct order, Joe. Relay that to our people. Make sure it’s acknowledged by each of them."

"Acknowledged," Joe replied dutifully.

On our screens we saw Luis approach Maribel and Rafael and draw them aside. Rafael’s face darkened instantly. He looked like a cobra coiled to strike. He radiated danger and threat. It was scary, honestly. Especially knowing about some of his past actions.

"We need to accelerate his therapy, Joe," I said, "He’s a timebomb."

"Acknowledged."

I added the audio to the conversation with a mental command.

Rafael was speaking, "Was it Arroyo?"

"I haven’t been told. The area is secure, and the orders say that this should not be mentioned beyond the three of us and the other guards." Manny said, "Especially not to assign blame or hint at anyone being responsible since no information has been shared with us at this time." Manny said, glancing back and forth between Rafael and Maribel trying to gauge whether they would comply.

"I’ll say what I want to say." Rafael said, turning away.

Manny looked pleadingly at Maribel. She nodded quickly and moved closer to Rafael.

"Rafi, we don’t know who was responsible for sending them, but we have them and we’ll question them. If word leaks out that this happened, those responsible will have a warning. You know that if you say anything in front of a crowd this big, you might as well write it across the sky for everyone to see. Please," Maribel looked into his cold, dark eyes, "I need to know you have the self-control to handle this correctly. Please, for me."

She saw his eyes soften, whatever darkness had taken control of him seemed to release its grip. Or maybe he just put on a different mask, she couldn’t be sure. "We’ll talk when this is done," she added, "about everything,"

Rafael tilted his head slightly and looked into her soul through her eyes. "You’re right, of course, Maribel. We should always know who we’re aiming at before we shoot. Let’s wait for the information. I can help with the interrogation... I have some skill in that area."

She tried not to let her face show panic. She had let herself forget that Rafael was a monster, a very handsome, charming monster. He would never have risen to his leadership position in a major drug trafficking operation unless he was capable and willing to do very, very bad things to people. "No," she said quickly, "we have people for that. We don’t believe in torture. It doesn’t work."

Rafael smiled, "That’s what they say, but maybe they’re just doing it wrong."

Now Maribel’s face darkened visibly, "I said no. Are you ready? It’s time to start the meeting."

I noticed something on one of the display screens. "How do we feel about cell phone recordings of this meeting?" I asked.

"If Rafael goes off the rails, it could be bad," Dad said.

"Yeah, I think he’ll stick to the script, though. I think it might be good to have this message go out publicly. It won’t just be Guatemala, it’ll end up on YouTube and wherever. They’ll see it in Chiapas, in Colombia, everywhere. I think that’ll help our cause, in the long run. It’ll make it harder to paint Rafael as some radical revolutionary," I said.

"Maybe, if he doesn’t start foaming at the mouth and calling for vengeance..." Dad grumbled.

"Hmmm," I said as something else occurred to me. "Joe, do any of the black dots have cell phones out? Not just recording, but connected calls so someone could listen in on the other end?"

Dad shot me a glance, "Good thinking."

"Yes, two have open video calls. Tracing them now," Joe answered, "One is going to the US Embassy. The other to an encryption service in Spain. The connection to Spain is then being routed, anonymously they think, to another server in Morocco. It is being streamed through another encrypted service there. The site is currently being accessed by 4 locations using sophisticated encryption (for Earth), one in Wolfstein, Germany, one in Washington, DC, one in McLean, Virginia, and one just outside of Omaha, Nebraska."

"Mark them all for later, please, Joe. And put a drone on each location to ID people coming and going," Dad instructed.

"Acknowledged," Joe replied.

"Now, let’s see who bolts before the attack was supposed to start," I said. There were only a couple minutes left. If the guy with the cell phone connection to the Embassy, almost certainly CIA, headed for the door then we could link them to the gunmen. The other one also seemed to be US government, but we couldn’t yet pin down which department. If neither of them left, then it was inconclusive. Either the gunmen were a different group, or the men sent into the warehouse were sacrifices.

I called up a countdown timer to show on the display screen. Fifty seconds left. No one was moving toward the door. I scanned the crowd. No one moved as Rafael continued to speak. 15 seconds.

"There." Joe said suddenly and zoomed the view into the crowd. One of the men in the crowd, bent down and started tying his shoe, very slowly tying his shoe.

I realized why Joe singled him out! He was using the bodies around him as human shields from the expected shrapnel. He was near the middle of the crowd to get as many bodies as possible between him and the walls where the RPGs would be coming in. At the first indication of gunshots, he’d probably fall flat against the floor to make himself even less of a target for flying shrapnel.

"Scan him, Joe. Does he have a knife?" I asked urgently.

"He was scanned on the way in. Yes, he has two knives, one in the pant leg of the shoe he’s tying and a second in the small of his back under his shirt," Joe answered instantly.

"Tell the paramilitaries to watch him carefully. They need to stop him from exiting the building and keep him away from Maribel and Rafael!" If he moves toward them, stop him immediately, in any way necessary. If he moves toward the door, stop him more discretely," I ordered.

"Acknowledged," Joe replied while simultaneously relaying my orders.

I saw all the guards look toward the man squatting to tie his shoe. He was probably hidden from view, but they had his location and description. When the police warnings didn’t materialize and there was no shooting, I assumed he’d just stand up and hope nobody knew he was part of the group.

He stayed down another 30 seconds after the mark. Then, he looked around hesitantly and stood up again. Our guards were discrete enough to not be caught staring in his direction, instead scanning the crowd making sure that each one swept over his position with every scan. When he stood up he checked the guards positions, looked toward the door, then focused back on the raised platform where Rafael and Maribel stood.

"His job is to make sure Rafael and Maribel don’t survive the attack. If he’s really dedicated, he’ll try to kill them himself even without the panic of the explosions and shrapnel," Dad opined. "It’ll have to be by stealth, working his way closer, maybe trying to ask a question as they pass near him, before he pulls the knife and makes his attempt."

Just as Dad finished, we saw him start to edge forward through the crowd. He wasn’t forcing his way through, just moving forward a little whenever there was a little space. He didn’t want to attract attention.

"This isn’t going to look good if we take him out in a crowd with all those cell phones recording. We can’t use the lasers if the CIA is watching, they’ll figure out too much," I grumbled.

He was still 10 yards back from the front of the crowd but slowly creeping closer. "Joe!" I called out suddenly, "Can you amplify his fear? Strengthen those pathways. Make him panic and flee, if you can."

"It will damage him," Joe cautioned.

"Understood, do it now." I ordered.

We watched his fear grow, he started glancing around, looking toward the guards. "Have Manny and Luis move toward the front of the stage area between our target and the stage. Tell them to stare at him," I commanded.

Joe relayed the commands as our target’s fear escalated. Manny and Luis turned fierce glares in his direction. His eyes were wide with panic, he was sweating heavily. His head was moving back and forth looking for a way out. He was no longer moving forward. He turned around and started moving toward the door where they had all entered. His caution faded away and he began pushing and shoving people out of his way. "Let me out!" He cried, roughly shoving one man who resisted his pressure.

"Fuck you!" the man said, throwing a wide haymaker at the man’s head. The man ducked neatly under it, sliding in close to his attacker, a knife was in his hand, and he brought it upward into the other man’s chest. It slid in just under his sternum. The stabbed man’s eyes went wide, he let out a single short grunt, then crumpled to the floor as our target pulled the knife free. Brandishing the bloody blade in front of him, he yelled "Get out of my way!" The crowd parted as he rushed past. He lowered his shoulder to barge through the door. It burst open at the pressure of his charge. Outside Juan Carlos stood ready and waiting. Hands forward at shoulder height.

The man lunged with the blade. Juan Carlos stepped back out of range. The man stepped forward swinging the knife in a slashing cut, this time Juan Carlos leaned back to let the slash pass him, then quickly stepped in trapping the attacker’s knife arm close to his body, securing the wrist with his right hand. His left hand went up to the attacker’s throat striking his larynx with stiffened fingers while driving his knee upward into the man’s crotch. Both blows landed cleanly. The knife fell to the ground, using his grip on the man’s wrist, Juan Carlos twisted, placing his left hip against the man’s body and bending forward. The unresisting attacker’s feet flew up as he was thrown over Juan Carlos’ hip to land with a thud on the hard dirt of the parking lot. Another of our men rushed in to pick up the knife, a third moved in. Juan Carlos said "Right ankle" as he pinned both of the gasping attacker’s arms to the ground. A second knife was pulled out of the ankle sheath before Juan Carlos rolled the helpless attacker onto his stomach and secured his hands behind his back. He was cuffed and lifted to his feet. Two guards hustled him away as Juan Carlos stood ready at their backs to dissuade anyone from following. Only a couple of people had even made it out the door before the action was over. They saw the attacker being led away in cuffs, stumbling and gasping for air.

Rafael was calling for order and calm inside in a strong commanding voice that carried a sharp edge. Those who knew him knew that tone and urged those around them to calm down and listen. That was a dangerous tone and disobeying it carried consequences, they knew. Juan Carlos ushered those few who had left the building back inside.