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From: sara brady <noguns@hotmail.com>
Subject: Usual Suspects
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The following is a work of fiction.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
The light grey van circled the block for a third time. At 4:00 am the
streets were largely desserted. The plot of land inside the block was
mostly undeveloped and was covered with all manner of weeds and trash.
In the northwest corner was
a small hill covered with scrub trees formed while leveling the land.
Inside the
van a police scanner was quiet.
"Next pass." A dark shape said from the back of the van. The driver
grunted in reply. The van made a right turn, drove slowly down the
street. There were no cars either in front or behind. The van stopped
momentarily, the side door slide open. The bulbs to the interior lights
had been removed so the van remained dark as two dark shapes exited the
van a dissapead into the brush. Once five yards in the two shapes
crouched down and remained motionless. For five minutes nothing moved.
First one then the other of the shapes slowly crept forward through the
darkness.
It took almost 30 minutes for the pair to cover the 40 yards to the
surveyors stake pounded into the top of the small hill. Again the pair
crouched in the darkness, eyes scanning for movement, ears straining for
unnatural sounds. Satisified one of the dark shapes slipped a case off
her shoulder. She opened it and removed a rifle. The rifle was a
Savage 110FP with a 36 power Redfield target scope and a Harris bipod.
The barrel was custom made by Kreigler and chambered in 300 Whisper.
The 300 Whisper cartridge was designed to be used in a supressed version
of the M-16 rifle. It used a very heavy match bullet travelling at just
under the speed of sound. It was very quite and very accurate.
She flipped down the legs of the Harris bipod attached to the synthetic
forearm of the rifle and gently lowered herself to the ground. She
squirmed into position behind the rifle and gently flipped up the lens
cover on the telescopic sight. Peering through the sight she could see
a back door entrance, that she couldn't see the cross hairs of the scope
yet didn't matter.
Her partner opened a quart plastic bottle of water and poured it on the
ground around the muzzle of the rifle to prevent dust from being kicked
up by the muzzle blast. He knelt beside her and removed a laser range
finder and checked the
distance to the back door. 'Three hundred six yards', he whispered.
The shooter turned one of the knobs on her scope, lowering the elevation
by a quarter of a minute of angle. He replaced the range finder in his
fanny pack and removed a Motorla portable two way FM radio. He clipped
it to his belt and put the earpiece in his ear. He laid next to the
shooter pulled a small pair of binoculars and began waiting.
XXXX
Dr. Sahra Brady pulled her Lexus into heavy morning traffic. She
flipped on the radio filling the car with classical music from National
Public Radio. Her thoughts drifted toward her day, six procedures.
Three were Mexicans , two others were blacks - five less future gang
members she thought. The final procedure was a young white girl from
Barrington. The age on her medical history said 18 but the year on her
date of birth had been scratched out and corrected. She'd seen that
before. Knocked up by her boy friend, parents probably conservative
Christian Nazis. She was drop dead goergous, smart why ruin her life
with a child so young besides she'd paid cash.
The thought of the young blond caused the doctors nipples to stiffen and
her crotch to tingle. She though of the evenings awards banquet where
her wife Barbra would be awarded the Bill Klinton award by the Illinois
Coalition to Ban Firearms. Barbra always got horney after public
recognition. Tonight promised to be quite a night. She began
unconsiously rubbing her crotch through her pants.
Her thoughts were rudely snapped back to reality by the mob in front of
her office. It was the usual bunch of religous zelots. They were split
into two groups, one in front of the entrance to the clinic the other in
driveway to the staff parking area behind the clinic. Just sitting
there singing their stupid songs with their stupid signs. Shit she
thought, she'd have to postpone one - maybe two procedures. She drove
past her office and pulled into the Mc Donalds on the corner. The cell
phone came out of her purse, she hit a speed dial button.
"Multi Jursidictional Task Force - Chicago. Special Agent Weston
speaking."
"This is doctor Brady of the Women's Health Clinic there's a mob outside
my office. They're getting violent, can you please send help?"
"We're on our way mam, please keep your staff clear of the area."
She turned broke the connection. With a few hours to kill she decided
to go to the Victoria's Secret store to get something special for the
evening ahead.
XXXXXX
Police Major Bill Mcamey heard the call on his radio. Great he though,
MJTF was rolling to break up a 'violent demonstration'. Those asshole,
police wannabe's got their rocks off roughing people up. It'd be maybe
half an hour before those dickheads got their crap in a pile and got out
here, maybe he could persuade the folks to go home. He called in his
intentions and headed out.
His heart sank as soon as he pulled up in front of the clinic. These
were some of the hard core members of the Life movement, they were
staging an 'act of civil disobediance' and weren't going anywhere.
Shit, some of them were from his Parish. Damn that President Klinton
and her Executive Order banning public demonstrations.
A few minutes later a small black bus pulled into the parking lot across
the street from the Women's Health Clinic. A man jumped out and walked
over to Mcamey. He was dressed in black battle dress utilities with a
pistol hanging low on his thigh in an assault holster. "Mcamey, I'm
Special Agent Weston of MJTF Chicago. We have a violation of Federal
Executive Order 1307, I'm assuming tactical command of the scene."
What an ass, Mcamey thought. "MAJOR Macamey of the Schaumberg PD. I'm
the Watch Commander, let's try to not hurt anybody today."
"That's entirely up to the mob over there. I need your department to
provide three or four black and whites for traffic control."
"My troops are tied up right now, it'll take 30 minutes or so to get 'em
here."
"Yeah right, I'll remember this for my after action report. Stay out of
the way", Weston barked. He stalked back to the bus. The bus door
opened and two groups of men carried portable barricades to the
intersections and blocked traffic. Mcamey grunted in amusment as one
group had trouble erecting the wooden baricade. What a bunch of fuckups
he thought.
After his troops returned to the bus Weston emerged carrying a
bullhorn. "I am Specal Agent Weston of the Multi Jurisditional Task
Force, Chicago. You are in viloation of Executive Order 1307. You are
ordered to disperse. You have one minute to comply!"
The crowd across the now empty six lane road. Didn't move they just sat
there singing. Weston turned to the van, "Fall in!". Out of the bus
came 15 MJTF special agents clad in full riot gear. They formed up in a
line not 20 yards from the demonstrators.
"On Guard!" Like a squad of Marine Recruits the lexan visors on
helments were flipped down.
"Riflemen, ready beanbags!" Two men went down on a knee. The racked
open pump shotguns and placed special nonlethal shells into the
weapons.
"Ready!" The two gunners called.
"One round, FIRE!" Weston commanded.
The shotguns barked in unison, but both shooters had jerked the triggers
and the
bean bags sailed harmlessly over the demonstrators. That prompted a
chorus of hoots and jeers. The riflemen's faces turned red with rage.
"Riflemen, ready beanbags!"
"Ready!" The two gunners called.
"FIRE!" Weston commanded.
This time the shooters aim was true. They had both chosen the same
target, an attractive Catholic nun in her mid twenties. The first
round, a four square inch kevlar sack filled with sand, struck her
square in the face. It instantly turned her nose to mush and snapped
her head back. The next round arrived a fraction of a second later. It
struck a few inches lower than the first directly on her neck crushing
her throat. She pitched forward onto the ground and went into
convultions. A pool of blood begining to spread in front of her.
Damn Macamey thought. He grabbed the mike on his radio and called for
an ambulance and all available units from the Schaumberg Police
Department. He started to get out of his squad roll when a third volley
of bean bags was fired. Fuck it, this is getting totally out of hand he
thought. The closed the car door and gunned the engine. He slammed the
car into gear, maybe if he could put himself between the 'rioters' and
those jackbooted MJTF thugs maybe he could quite this thing down.
XXXXXXXXXX
"Dan this is Mitch", said a voice in the ear piece of the spotters of
the radio. Of course his name wasn't Dan and neither was Mitch the name
of voice.
"Go Mitch."
"Looks like the Inspector is going to be delayed. Hang loose."
"Got it." the spotter said. He turned to the shooter and whispered,
"Looks like a delay". She nodded to him in reply. She moved the rifle
a few inches to the right and let her head slump forward onto her
forearm. The took the strain out of her neck, back and shoulders and
let her eyes rest.
BooBooom!!
"What the?"
BoomBoom!!
"What the hell, that sounds like shotguns!" the Shooter said.
"From around front of the clinic", the spotter added.
A siren squeeled followed a few seconds later by a pair of low thumps.
The second sound puzzled the pair as neither had ever heard the sound of
a tear gas gun.
XXXXXXX-----------------XXXXXXXXXXX
The screeming squad roll caught Agent Weston by supprise. What the hell
is that asshole Macamey doing? I ought to arrest his ass. Then a
though came to Weston. What about Macamey's pistol? Did he have a
shotgun in his car? Could the rioters use it? He had to end this now.
"Ready gas!" he called.
"Ready!" called two agents.
"Fire!"
The two CS gas cannisters flew toward the protestors. One struck a
Catholic Priest in the forehead cuting a deep gouge and knocking the
holy man unconsious. The second hit the front of the clinic and bounced
back into the protestors. Both cannisters began spewing clouds of
noxious CS gas. The crowd was immediatly blinded by the gas. Coughing,
chokeing, some vomiting, the crowd was totally incapacitated.
"Move in! Arrest everyone!" Weston commanded.
The men moved forward in a vicious attack. They worked in elements of
three. Two men with a riot shields and coiled steel spring batons in
front went first followed by a third man with a taser and plastic
flexi-cuffs that looked like large cable ties. The elements moved into
the crown ordering the victem to lie face down on the ground. Those too
disoriented by the blinding, choking gas to instantly comply and were
beaten to the ground by the front two men, then zapped with the taser
and cuffed by the third.
XZXZXZXZXZXZXZXZ
The first ambulance to arrive called for backup. There were three
groups of people laid out in the parking lot. The first was a single
female body, dead. The second was a group of five, hands tied behing
their backs obviously in need of immediate medical help. The final
group of over a dozen didn't appear to need immediate help, although
many wou;d need stitches to close various wounds. The were sitting on
the curb, hands tied behind their back with black hoods over their
heads.
Shit was all the paramedic could think.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Dr. Brady got a call that all was clear and made a call to her office
maneger to get everyone in to work. They'd have to cancel half the days
procedures. Oh well she decided to grab some lunch then head in. She's
at least be able to get rid of the pretty blonds problem.
ZXZXZXZXZXZXZXZXZXZXZX
"Dan this is Mitch there were some problems out front but the inspector
is on the way. He'll be there in 10 minutes."
"Ok Mitch we'll be ready." The spotter turned to the shooter, "Get
ready. We got 5 mph wind from the left."
The shooter made an adjustment to the windage turret on her Redfield
scope and got into position.
ZCZCZCZCZCZCCZCZCZCZCZC
Dr. Brady frowned as she pulled into the parking lot. The plate glass
window on the front of her office was spider webbed. She pulled up to
the security gate, leaned out the window and swiped a card through the
device. A yellow light flashed at her, indicating the system was on a
higher security setting. She's have to punch in a manual security
code. Good, Carol was on top of things.
She drove slowly down a narrow alley to the courtyard like parking
area. She could see her office maneger and nurses cars already parked.
Good she thought.
Geting out of her car she went to the door and tried to turn the knob.
It resisted and a yellow light on the key pad to her right flashed. She
was about to key her security code when a 240 grain Sierra Matchking
boattail hollowpoint hit her in the back at just less that 1000 feet per
second, it had taken the bullet just under one second to reach her. It
struck less than an inch from its intended point of impact but that
didn't matter. The bullet hit the spine, severing it before proceeding
to shred the left ventrical of the abortionists heart. It then exited
out the front of her body, spraying blood on the concrete wall a
fraction of a second before the bullet hit and shattered into
fragments. Dr. Sara Brady fell to the ground in a lifeless heap.
zxzxzxzxzxzxzxzx
"Hit", the spotter called. He looked over at the shooter, she was
beginning to turn pale. He keyed his mike, "Pickup". Was all he said.
"Come on, gotta move!", he said to his shooter. They picked up
everything they came in with and five minutes later the van slowed for
an instant. They stepped out of the brush and into it. They didn't
need to hurry it would be half an hour before the body would be found.
In another 90 minutes they were in Rockford and returned the van to the
rental agency. Twenty minutes after that they were driving in the old
blue Suburban down Interstate 39, the first part of the 8 hour trip to
the 'Farm' in Kentucky.
ZXZXZXZXZXZXZX
Detective Sloan thought this was just great. He'd left the Chicago
Police Department to get away from homicide investigations. This one
ought to be simple enough. A peaceful demonstration by prolife
activists is savagely put down. One of their buddies comes back and
caps the abortion doc. Couse the prolife folks hadn't done anything
violent in what four years? Well maybe that had changed.
"Tapes ready Dick.", and evidence tech called.
The tape was a standard security tape monitoring the door. Since the
parking area was sort of an enclosed court the perp must have hopped the
wall hidden behind, or maybe even in one of the cars already parked
against the wall. Doc drives up to her reserved spot, hops out and
pop! The wide angle lens should give a decent view of the mutt. The
investigator started to speed queue the tape. In a moment he saw the
Lexus drive in. He watched and frowned. The bitch was dead before she
hit the ground but no shooter on the tape.
"I'm Special Agent Weston of Multi Jursiditional Task Force Chicago, I'm
assuming control of the crime scene."
In front of the detective was a black clad little man with a huge ego.
This little prick couldn't pour piss out of his boot if there were
instructions on the heal the cop thought. "All yours." Sloan said. He
waved his guys back and watched as the ninja wannabes from MJTF
proceeded to stomp all over the crime scene.
After half an hour Weston walked over Sloan and lit a cigar. "Ok,
here's my read. We break up a riot in front of the clinic this
morning. Some of those religous zelots or their friends come back, hop
the wall and ambush the Doc."
"I don't know said Sloan. Something funny here not sure what. Did you
see the entrance wound? Looks like a pipsqueek round like a .32 ACP.
We're talking about a range in feet and not many of those but no shooter
on the security tape. Plus she was dead when she hit the ground. I've
seen people shot with a .32 they usually flop and bleed and make a hell
of a mess, and usually live through it."
"Well I think we're going to take the direct route on this. First we
sweat information out of the rioters then run their buddies to the
ground. See who squeels" Weston said.
"Just round up the usual suspects." Sloan said to himself.
--
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