فصل 39

39

Christmas Ranch

While Operation Mute was being carried out on the other side of the world, Captain Smythe, the same commander who had led the attack on Timepiece Ranch in northern Mexico, had commenced his own operation.

Smythe’s helicopter squad had been static since the Timepiece attack, awaiting a transport to Tuvalu, which would require a boat since it was much too far for the helicopters to fly. Again, fate seemed to favor the Elgen. After three delays caused by weather, the squad was still in Mexico and ready for the mission Hatch was sending them on. The helicopter squad not only had experience in attacking the resistance’s ranch, but they were also the only unit within three thousand miles of the target.

The two operations were launched simultaneously. Prior to the attack, Smythe’s squad made the 375-mile flight to northern Nevada, where the helicopters landed at a private airport and refueled. From there it was only 160 miles to Christmas Ranch. If all went according to plan, they would fly in from the south over the Vermilion Cliffs and attack the ranch just after nightfall.

At seven forty-five p.m. mountain time, Captain Smythe received GPS coordinates for the ranch, detailed attack plans, and orders to attack. The eleven Elgen helicopters flew across the Nevada border, closely following the rugged desert canyon terrain. It took them just thirty-four minutes to reach the ranch, the only structures within miles of the national park.

With Gervaso and the youths gone and no advance warning, Christmas Ranch was ripe for picking, even less well defended than the European headquarters, with only three men on guard duty: two guarding the outer roads and one on the water tower.

The Elgen’s attack orders were simple: capture Sharon Vey, then destroy the ranch and all its inhabitants. The battle plan was to silently take out the water tower guard, then drop three teams of jumpers to capture Vey. (The guards had pictures of Sharon taped to their forearms.) Once she was secured, they would attack the ranch by air with their full payload of Hellfire missiles and napalm.

“This is Elgen One. Destination is one mile ahead,” Captain Smythe said. “Prepare jumpers. Release on my command.” In the dark, Smythe’s helicopter dropped lower than the rest until it was only slightly above the tree line. It quickly approached the west side of the ranch, carefully following the contour of the land until it was about twelve hundred yards from the water tower, and an Elgen sniper with a night-vision scope silently took out the watchman.

The helicopter quickly gained altitude, then did a flyby over the quiet ranch. There were enough commercial tour helicopters flying over Zion that the helicopter’s presence did not alarm the ranch’s inhabitants, but Smythe wasn’t taking chances. Still, there was no movement below, and most of the buildings were dark.

“Drop jumpers,” Smythe said.

At ten thousand feet, twelve paratroopers jumped with Ram-chute parachutes from four of the helicopters. It was higher than their usual drop, as the helicopters were still hoping to avoid detection. The Elgen jumpers free-fell until about two thousand feet before pulling their chutes and landing just fifty yards south of the water tower, three hundred yards from the main ranch house. Only one of the Elgen had a problem as his chute caught in a cedar tree and he had to cut himself down.

Captain Smythe in Elgen One continued north to the resistance’s road outposts, where he flew down on the two guards, neutralizing them with machine-gun fire.

The ranch had gone dark earlier than usual. It had been a hard day, and Sharon Vey had been crying for most of it. It was over a week since the Electroclan had been heard from, and the resistance had convened a meeting to discuss a possible rescue mission even though the odds were that the Electroclan was already dead. The meeting was emotional and tense, and nothing had been decided. The Lisses were beside themselves, and Mrs. Liss had screamed at the board. Sharon was angry at herself that she hadn’t stopped her son from participating in a suicide mission.

She was alone in her room getting ready for bed when the guards kicked open her door.

“That’s her,” a guard said, pointing his pistol with a silencer. “Scream and I shoot.” The guards put Sharon in a PEQ, radioed the helicopter for pickup, and then carried her out back to where they had landed, waving a green laser into the air to signal the helicopter their position.

A few minutes later a chopper descended. The two troopers threw Vey inside, then climbed in themselves. “Fly,” the guard said.

After they were a thousand feet in the air, Captain Smythe came to the back of the Apache and unzipped the PEQ enough for Sharon to put out her head.

“Who are you?” Sharon asked.

“I’m Captain Smythe.”

“Elgen?”

“How many enemies do you have?” Smythe asked.

“Where’s my son?”

“You don’t have the clearance to know that.”

“Where are you taking me?”

“You don’t have the clearance to know that.”

“What can you tell me?”

“I can tell you that it’s time to say good-bye to your friends.” He reached back to the control for his microphone. “This is Elgen One. All helos cleared to launch Hellfire missiles on my command. Lethal force is authorized. I repeat, lethal force is authorized.” “Please . . . don’t,” Sharon said. “You don’t have to hurt them.” “As a matter of fact I do.” The captain said into his microphone, “All helos let missiles fly.” “Hellfire missiles away,” came a multitude of replies.

From her window Sharon could see dozens of missiles streaking fire against the black sky, sixteen from each helicopter, scattering across the ranch in a broad swathe, blowing everything apart.

“Elgen Nine and Eleven, fire napalm,” the captain said.

“Elgen Nine. Roger that, One. Napalm firing.”

“Elgen Eleven. Napalm firing.”

More missiles struck the ground, only these lit up the sky with a row of flames three hundred yards long and more than a hundred feet high, the tops of the flames curling with the helicopters’ downdraft.

“God’s wrath,” Captain Smythe said. “Thank you, Nine and Eleven.” The captain set down the microphone and turned back to Sharon. “Are you a God-fearing woman, Mrs. Vey?” Sharon said nothing, though tears streamed down her cheeks. Her lips were tight with anger.

“You might not believe this,” Smythe said, “but I was an altar boy. Saint Vincent’s in Cherry Creek, New Jersey. I even thought of becoming a priest someday. Imagine that.” Sharon looked at him hatefully.

“I’m still spiritual. I just chose a different way to do God’s work. Something a little more . . . deliberate.” He took a deep breath. “Look at that down there. It’s biblical. The ‘heavens shall pass away with a great noise, and the elements shall be dissolved with fervent heat, and the earth and the works that are therein shall be burned up.’ ” He shook his head. “We are the destroying angels. Unfortunately, your friends are no more.” He lifted the microphone. “This is Elgen One. Mission accomplished. All helos return to Vegas base. Let the beer flow, boys. Tonight it’s on me.”