Page 15 of Operation: Valiant Angel

The relaxed coworker-chatter instantly stopped and all four of them drew their weapons when the unmistakable sound of breaking glass came from upstairs. Wilson switched his comms to transmit to all, which would loop in Ops.

“Glass breaking upstairs. Sitrep, Moe?” Wilson broadcast as he took steps towards the staircase, his weapon leading the way.

“Unsure, Taco. Came from the second bedroom up here.”

“We’ll check it out. Protect the target at all costs.”

“Roger that,” Moe replied.

“Bubbles, Crash, you’re with me. Lah-lee, follow us up. Keep your eyes on our six. Halfway up is your position.” Wilson didn’t wait for replies. He led the way up the staircase, moving quickly and soundlessly. As he neared the landing at the top of the stairs, bone-chilling cold air greeted him along with a whistling sound coming from a room to the left. Straight ahead, the door was closed and the door on the right was open. From the floor plan of the farmhouse they’d seen, he knew the room to the left was a bedroom, the door straight ahead was the master bedroom, and the door to the right was a bathroom.

Wilson stayed low, his eyes sweeping what he could see of the interior of the room to the left. He felt a tap to his shoulder, which he knew meant the man behind him was moving to sweep the room on the right, the bathroom. Wilson inched forward until he was at the door into the room. With a sudden movement, he thrust himself into the room and dropped to one knee, his weapon at the ready held in front of him.

No one was inside. But one of the windows was broken and the outside air blew large, wet flakes mixed with frozen pellets into the room in a steady stream. Movement beside him got his attention. Michael Cooper had entered and stood near the door. Wilson pointed to the door to the closet on the side wall that was open ajar. Then he stood and crept towards it, Cooper on his heels.

He stood back, his aim on the closet space as Cooper threw the door open wide. No one was there. They checked under the bed. Clear. Their gazes scrutinized the floor in front of the window. No object that could have broken the window was present. Snowand ice were all that was on the floor. Then Wilson gazed out of the windows. He saw no one.

“Room clear,” Wilson broadcast.

“Bathroom clear,” Roth reported.

“Coming out of the master,” Tessman broadcast.

They all met in the hallway. Saxton still crouched on the stairs in the position Wilson had assigned her. “All quiet downstairs,” she reported.

“Bubbles, find something to secure over that window,” Wilson ordered. “Is he ready to move?” he then asked Tessman.

“He will be in a minute. He’s just packing the last of his things.”

“As soon as he’s ready, and the window is secure, we move,” Wilson said. “Ops, I’ll leave you looped in until we are clear.”

“Roger that, Taco,” Yvette replied.

Ten minutes later, the five members of the team were huddled around the protectee and were hustling to the SUV. It was crowded with the six of them in it. Wilson was still on high alert. It was odd that the window had broken when it had. Something felt very off to him.

As they neared the bottom of the driveway, a volley of what had to be bullets impacted the vehicle’s left side as they passed a dilapidated structure that looked like it had once been a shed for the farmhouse children to wait on the school bus. Tessman was driving. He floored the accelerator. The rear end of the SUV fish-tailed until the wheels grabbed hold of the ground. The vehicle was armor plated and had bullet proof glass, but that didn’t stop Wilson and Roth, who sat in the backseat beside the protectee, from getting him down on the floor and covering his body with their own.

“Ops be advised we are taking fire,” Wilson transmitted. “Repeat, we are taking fire.”

“That’s not bullets hitting the vehicle. It’s large chunks of ice,” said Saxton, who sat in the middle of the front seats.

“Ice?” Wilson repeated, sitting up straight in his seat. “Stop the car, Moe!”

“What are you doing? Are you crazy?” demanded Jackowski.

“Moe, you’re with me. Saxton, slide over into the driver’s seat and everyone hold position. No one fire,” Wilson ordered. Then he exited the car.

Wilson stalked to the backside of the structure. Tessman exited the vehicle and followed. At the partially closed door on the shack, Wilson kicked it. It exploded in, revealing what looked to be two pre-teen boys with a stack of ice balls and a weapon of some sort. They were in the process of firing another volley at their vehicle.

Both boys screamed and shrunk back after the door burst open and at the sight of the two men who pointed real rifles at them. “Man, don’t shoot,” one of them pled.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Wilson demanded.

“Nothing, just testing out my new snowball chucker,” the freckle faced future felon stammered.

“Your snowball chucker. Dude, you’re firing ice. You’ve dented up our vehicle. It sounded like bullets striking. You’re lucky we didn’t return fire and turn this shack into Swiss cheese!” Tessman scolded.

With this revelation, both boys started to cry. “We didn’t mean no harm,” the freckle faced one said.

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