Chapter Thirteen
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“All right, everyone gather ’round.” Ryder said to their assembled team.
Gavin moved in closer to the main computer monitor with his twin and the rest of the CPS team surrounding him for the early morning briefing. Everyone was here except Decker, who was liaising with other security personnel at the conference center. A lot had changed overnight, none of it good.
“This is the itinerary for the day,” Ryder continued, running a hand over his short-trimmed beard as he talked them through the information on screen, mostly timelines and locations. “Everyone knows their individual assignments, but we have new intel to brief you on. Callum?”
Standing on the other side of the monitor with his arms folded, Callum Falconer was an imposing presence in the room. The former Delta operator was revered as a god-like figure among everyone who worked at CPS. He had left the military years before and was now married with two young kids, but he’d seen more combat than all of them combined, and a couple years ago he’d led a rescue mission into Afghanistan after the US withdrawal to extract Nadia, the woman who would become his wife. Fucking legend.
“The Feds are now forecasting at least triple, possibly quadruple the number of protesters we saw yesterday,” Callum said in his deep, booming voice. “This group is highly organized and motivated, recruiting people from all over and busing them in from up and down the West Coast. Local officials have made the call to bring in a riot force to add an extra layer of security and deter violence.”
Or, you know, it could also backfire and trigger violence.
Gavin kept that thought to himself, however. Portland had been chosen specifically as the site for this conference because one of the billionaires in charge lived in the area and had wanted to showcase the region, but Gavin bet the organizers were wishing they’d rethought that and chosen somewhere more remote.
“Riot squad is en route, ETA fifty minutes. We’ll update you on their position once they’re on scene, but they’ll be stationed north of the external security perimeter.”
“Meantime, we’re going to review the existing contingency plans and security updates from the local authorities and other security units in charge here,” Ryder added, pulling up maps and floor plans on screen. “As we all know, jurisdiction becomes an issue in operations this size.”
Yep, plus there were less than a dozen CPS members on this detail. The situation outside was fluid and beyond their control. All they could do was mitigate the risk for their own people and the VIPs they were tasked with protecting.
Gavin followed along as Ryder and Callum detailed the contingency plans. If shit went sideways, they would evacuate the conference center only as a last resort and had the capability to call in helicopters to extract the VIPs from the conference center rooftop if necessary. But unless the center was in imminent threat of being breached, they would instead gather everyone up into one of the large ballrooms as a safe room, and the whole shebang would go into Fort Knox mode and the National Guard deployed.
“If that happens, it’s full-on lockdown,” Ryder told them. “So you need to make sure you get your VIPs and anyone else into the ballroom before that happens. We clear?”
A murmur of affirmatives went up. He thought of Autumn, a hint of worry creeping in. Her hotel wasn’t a target, and it was far enough away from the conference center that it should be safe.
Still. He needed to give her a heads up so that she was aware and able to judge the situation on her end. She was a fierce mom, would do whatever she had to in order to keep Carly safe. And so would he, because he adored the kid.
“All right, that’s it for now. Any questions?” Ryder asked, looking around the group. No one said anything. “Good. We’re getting our own updates from Walker and Ivy back at HQ, so we’ll update you as needed. Anything comes up in the meantime, let us know.” He nodded once. “Dismissed.”
The team dispersed immediately, some to other areas in the conference center to coordinate with other security organizations, and others like him and Tris back to the hotel to escort their VIPs to the first session of the day. On the way down the hall, Gavin pulled out his personal cell to send a text.
“You updating Autumn?” Tris asked.
“Yep.” Her big presentation was first thing this morning. She hadn’t wanted to evacuate Carly last night but needed to know the situation in case security at her hotel wasn’t updating them.
More protesters expected than originally anticipated. Riot police on the way. Stay in your hotel until the streets are cleared and the situation has been contained. Will message you later. Love y—
His thumb paused, then deleted the last bit. It was too soon, she wasn’t ready to hear that.
Even though it was the truth.
****
Holy shit, this was actually happening, and the ticking clock was almost down to zero.
Dan wandered through the protest staging area with a renewed sense of purpose and excitement. Finally .
The government he had faithfully served through years of military service, repeatedly putting his own safety and mental health on the line in combat overseas, was finally going to get a little taste of payback. Payback he would dish out personally.
There was a definite buzz in the air, a contagious sense of camaraderie and united anger. The people gathering here with him were grim-faced, determined, and ready for action.
“We’re done letting them control us. We’re done talking. We’re here to send them a message, and we won’t back down!” someone standing on a stage shouted into a bullhorn.
“We won’t back down!” the assembled crowd roared in approval, everyone punching their fists in the air. All around him people were waving signs or holding banners with slogans across them.
You’re either part of the solution or part of the problem.
Get out.
Beware of politicians.
Fight today for a better tomorrow.
People from all walks of life were here, including a few highly visible groups of fellow veterans wearing leather jackets with patches on them and carrying flags. More and more people flowed in from the surrounding side streets every minute, supplied by a steady convoy of buses and other vehicles dropping passengers off blocks away around the city center.
“Hey, man. You serve?” a young guy wearing an organizer shirt asked him, nodding to the tat on Dan’s exposed forearm.
Semper Fidelis. “Fourteen years.”
The guy smiled at him. “ Oorah . I bet you can still handle yourself.”
“Damned right, I can.”
“Excellent, we need guys like you to lead the way.” He clapped Dan on the shoulder. “Follow me.”
Filled with a pride and purpose he hadn’t felt in way too damned long, Dan went with him to another staging area set up several blocks away, out of sight down a back alley he knew well.
The crowd here was younger, almost all males, and there was a palpable change in vibe. An edgy, darker feel while they muttered to each other in low voices in the shadows and passed around balaclavas.
“How do you feel about sending a message with more of a...punch,” the young guy said to him.
Dan saw a group of men emerge from the back door of the building with noticeable bumps under their jackets. Nodded. “That’s exactly the kind of message I’m interested in delivering.”
“Awesome. This way.” The young guy gestured up the short set of steps.
Inside, Dan found more young men gathered around boxes and tables, forming an assembly line of sorts. Bottles. Piles of rags. Booze.
One of them nodded at him. “Hey, man. You know how to make these?” He held up a bottle with a rag sticking out of the end.
Dan smiled. “Brother, I can make ’em with my eyes closed.”
“Great, then give us a hand.”
He gathered up some supplies and joined the assembly line. Within twenty minutes, they had both tables covered with rows of Molotov cocktails.
“It’s almost time,” the organizer said from the open doorway. “You ready?”
“Ready,” one of the guys working with Dan said. “Come and get ’em.”
Dan helped distribute the devices and pairs of thick gloves to the steady stream of young men coming through the door, then tucked two bottles into the waistband of his jeans and tugged the hem of his hoodie down to hide them. At the door, the organizer thanked him and handed him a black balaclava.
He pulled it on and checked his phone one last time. No messages. For a moment, he considered texting TJ, but decided there was no point and put it away.
“All right, let’s get this party started,” one of the others said from outside where everyone was gathering, and the others shouted their agreement.
Dan was put near the front of the group, right behind the organizers. Fifty or so strong, they walked to the end of the alley and turned onto the main street. His heartrate sped up.
Before him was a sight to behold. Hundreds of people were flowing into the main street from the side routes, dozens of little streams spilling into a river. Feeding it. Creating a tide that flowed right through the downtown core, heading for their target at the end of the street.
He couldn’t see much ahead of him, not the police or whatever other security that must be on scene by now, just that sea of bodies all marching together. Couldn’t hear much over the shouting and whistles that came from all directions, drumming and chants blending into a continuous roar.
A unified chant lifted above the noise. “End corruption now!”
Dan joined in, throwing his fist into the air on each word. A half-block ahead, the crowd suddenly slowed. Almost seemed to stumble.
“They called in the fucking riot squad,” someone out front cried.
Dan slowed with the others and craned his neck to see over the crowd. Sure enough, a long black line came into view a couple blocks up the street. A wall of cops in black uniforms and ballistic gear, helmets and visors obscuring their faces, batons and shields at the ready. As he watched more filed in on both sides, blocking the entire width of the street and barring their way.
Their column slowed more. Stopped. People bitched and grumbled, the whole crowd growing restless, a seething mass of resentment and rage building higher with each passing second.
A powder keg waiting for a single spark to ignite it.
Dan clenched his jaw and shook his head in silent rage. Calling in the riot squad was a fucking stupid move. Now things would get even uglier.
“This way!” The guy who had enlisted Dan for help with the devices shoved his way back to the center of their group and turned to wave everyone on, his voice slightly muffled by his balaclava. “Come on! We’re not backing down, we’re going to show those bastards what happens when they betray us!”
A loud roar went up, raising the hair on Dan’s arms and neck. His group began marching forward. The crowd ahead parted, the more peaceful protesters moving aside, watching in awe as Dan’s group pushed their way through, moving toward the front of the column that stretched right up to where the riot cops were standing. Dan kept in step with his group, heart thudding, flooding his system with adrenaline.
His gaze locked on the line of cops. His gut tingled the way it had just before a firefight.
The riot cops saw them coming through the ranks. Started banging their batons on their shields in cadence, and took measured, menacing steps toward them. Moving forward to engage.
Someone in the crowd near the front lines threw something. It bounced off a cop’s shield.
“ Now !” Dan bellowed.
Everyone launched their projectiles in unison. The cops raised their shields to deflect the incoming barrage.
Dan’s focus narrowed on a group of cops directly in front of him, the sights and sounds taking him right back to his combat days. He couldn’t believe he had to fight like this on the streets of an American city to make himself heard.
With the first volley over, the cops took another step forward, shields up.
“Charge!” someone yelled.
A battle cry erupted all around him. Chills raced down Dan’s spine. He opened his mouth to join in, howling like a demon as they broke into a run, going straight at the line of cops blocking the way to the conference center.
Someone lobbed a lit device. It smashed into the ground a few feet in front of a cop and burst into flames. The crowd hurled rocks, bricks and bottles at the cops. They huddled together under their shields, sheltering from the storm.
As he ran, Dan noticed groups of men along the sides of the street, smashing cars and flipping them over. Torching one close to the cops would push them back.
He pulled out one of his devices, lit the end of the rag and hurled it toward an overturned car. He missed, and it flew into a wooden art installation attached to the facade of a hotel on the corner. Instantly it burst into a small blaze, the flames racing up the tinder-dry wood.
He cursed under his breath, slowed and lit his second one. This time when he threw it, he had the satisfaction of seeing the flames engulf the vehicle moments before he swept by.
Just ahead of them, the line of cops wavered, moved away from the burning car. The momentary lapse opened a gap in front of them.
Yes.
Dan raced through it with the others, screaming in triumph as they breached the line and ran for the conference center with the full force of the crowd coming right behind them.