God's Dogs
Chapter 39

If one is to wield a pen with skill, one must wield weapons with skill, because weapons provide support for the pen.

Lam Sai Wing

They never did find out what was special about the destroyer, Python. The prisoners were transferred to a high security facility League Intelligence operated. Even so, the team extracted as much information from Wilson and the others before they gave them up to the Intelligence service, who then transferred them to the Marshal’s office and civilian jurisdiction. Then the team moved their headquarters planet-side on the outskirts of the main city.

They set up shop at a renovated farm. A large main house, a barn, and other out buildings sat on ten acres of cleared land. A few tenant farmers lived in cottages at the far end of the property and had separate access. This left the main house and its buildings secluded. The property had been repurposed as a get-away for a senator who lost his seat in the last election. League Intelligence snapped it up for a good price.

A League admiral assigned to Intelligence was early for a meeting with the team. The marines were inspecting the property and rigging sensors, establishing firing lanes, and such. Marshal McIntyre was also early and chatting with Moss.

The living room of the main house was wood floors, lots of windows, a fireplace, couches, chairs, and low tables. Next to the living room was a recessed kitchen area that was open space bounded by a island bar.

Admiral Brent Collins was a beefy man of medium height. His rounded face seemed to flush easily so that one wasn’t sure if he was angry or blushing. He wore civilian clothes, pants and pullover shirt, along with sturdy ankle-high boots.

Murphy and Basel were in the room with the team, as well, and they drank coffee or tea as the sun cleared the trees and light began streaming into the room.

A roar outside announced the arrival of a flyer, and the final person arrived. Senator Leah Morrison strode in, leaving her marine escort at the door. She, too, was dressed down in a ship suit.

“Quinn,” she said in her command voice. “Good to see you and your team. Admiral, always a pleasure. Marshal, good to see you as well. And you must be Lieutenant Basel and Gunny Murphy. Let’s get to it, shall we?”

River gave Leah a cup of coffee as they all sat. The admiral began.

“League Intelligence is a bit shocked by how rapid and how thorough this operation went off. I daresay, they are more used to slower moving, triple-checked operations. They are tedious in how meticulously they work. So you have rattled them from their comfort zone. I cannot say if that is a good thing or not.”

“Do they want to take charge?” Leah asked.

“Not as yet. It would be impolite for them to do so now, given the success you’ve achieved. Furthermore, they know how Penglai frowns on anyone asserting control over a Coyote team.”

“I see,” Leah murmured. “Would keeping them in the loop help?”

“At the risk of OpSec, probably. I don’t think it’s worth the risk.”

“One of your people?”

“I’ll think on it,” Collins replied. “It might be best to leave the Marshal with that duty. He seems to have everyone’s trust.”

Leah looked at McIntyre. “Are you okay with that?”

He snickered, “Playing nice with politicians isn’t something I look forward to, but I know how to handle it.”

Leah half-grinned. “You should. I taught you.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Leah turned to Quinn, “What’s your next move?”

“We ran all the information we got through Penglai Intelligence,” Quinn said. “We’re beginning to see how all the dots connect. There are still some major holes in our knowledge of who runs the show, but we have five high level players we can arrest with what we’ve got.”

“Do we gain anything by waiting?”

“Other than a better knowledge of the enemy, no.”

“What are the logistics?”

“One is currently on Central,” Quinn answered. “The others are not. We have Coyote teams shadowing them.”

“You could make a coordinated strike and nab all of them at once.”

“Yes.”

“What do you think, Admiral?”

“As Quinn pointed out, our knowledge is incomplete. Perhaps these five can fill in the blanks. Perhaps not. Who knows if they are privy to the organization’s contingency planning? On balance, though, I think it’s an acceptable risk.”

Into the ensuing silence, Moss asked, “Is that a go?”

Leah smiled, “It’s a go, Moss.”

After that, they briefed Leah and Collins on what they knew of the shadow government. They had constructed an organizational chart with names where they knew them. There were fewer names on the top two tiers in that complex hierarchy.

When their guests departed, Quinn began working on a timeline and coordinated it with the off-world teams. By the end of the day, a date and time was agreed upon.

Because of the timing, the team would assault their target at his home at 0700 local time. In preparation for that, the marines kept the target under close surveillance for the week prior.

At the morning meeting, two days before the strike, the marines reported a problem.

From his place in the house's main room, Murphy told them, “We’ve picked up an electronic signature that has my tech guys puzzled.”

“Why?” Quinn asked.

“It’s the carrier wave for a classified munition.”

“Which means what?” Moss wanted to know.

“A pulse on that wavelength detonates a charge,” Murphy replied. “It’s also intermittent. When the bad guy is home, it’s there. We think he’s carrying a detonator with him.”

“For what purpose?” River wondered.

The question hung there, and River got up to fill her coffee cup from the urn in the kitchen. The sun was blinking through the trees due to the windy conditions outside the farm house.

Presently, Quinn said, “They gave him a panic button.”

“That’s cold,” Moss murmured after a moment.

Pax stated the obvious, “They would rather he blow himself up than have him captured.”

“And he thinks he’s calling for help,” River finished the thought.

Murphy let out a slow breath. “Which means his air car is rigged, his office and home as well.”

“River,” Quinn said, “let the other teams know about this. We’ll need to snatch him away from the explosives. Ideally, not at home, or near his air car, and not at his office.”

Then he turned to Murphy. “Can the signal be jammed?”

“I don’t think so. That’s why it’s classified.”

“Wow,” Moss sighed. “It’s a pretty efficient way to insure OpSec. Give your key guys a panic button and not let them know it’s a suicide button.”

Quinn looked up as River returned from sending the message to Satya for relay to the other teams. “I think we tell our guy what’s going on. River, can you get us in touch with him on a secure line?”

“I’m pretty sure I can.”

It took until the next day. River worked with the marine techs and Satya’s comm officer, and they figured out how to establish a secure line to their guy, Anders Baden.

By then, the other teams verified the same situation for their targets. Each of them carried a detonator. River let them know their procedure for establishing a direct and secure comm-link, as well as when they would make contact. It wasn’t the op they envisioned, but it ended up being simpler as a result.

“Mr. Baden,” Quinn said when their guy picked up. “Don’t break this connection. I’m trying to save your life.”

“Who is this?” was the terse reply.

“Quinn. Team lead for the Coyote team that is charged with bringing you into custody. We’ve been monitoring you for a couple of weeks. The panic button they gave you is actually a detonator.”

There was a lengthy pause before Baden said, “I’m not surprised.”

“If you want out,” Quinn went on, “we can get you from the rooftop of your office tonight. Have your family go somewhere safe, and we’ll pick them up as well.”

“I’ll be on the roof at 1630. There are two bodyguards and the air car pilot.”

“See you then, sir.”

The team used a stealth shuttle to get into position on the roof at 1600. The shuttle retreated to circle the building, silently purring on its grav-drives.

At 1630, the group arrived at the rooftop pad for the air car. The team stunned the bodyguards and pilot. Moss grabbed Baden and dove into the waiting shuttle that blinked off its stealth as it rose to rooftop height. The rest of the team piled in close behind.

As the shuttled dropped down to fly between the tall buildings, the air car on the roof pad exploded.

Quinn stood Baden up. “You left the panic button on the pad.”

“Yes.”

“Biometric lock,” River said.

Baden nodded. “They told me not to be more than fifty feet away from it, or it would trigger a response.” He laughed without mirth. “They even gave me someone to call to cancel a false alarm.”

“I’m really not liking these guys,” Moss said as he strapped himself into a seat.

“My family?” Baden asked.

“Our marines picked them up,” Quinn answered. “They’ll meet you on our ship.”

“I’ve brought the information I think you need,” Baden said in a tentative way. He was a portly man with a florid face and thinning blond hair. He was also losing the aura of importance he unconsciously carried as his new reality kicked in.

Quinn nodded to him in reassurance. “I’m sure it will be useful.”

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