Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada
a step. “… to have fun. Consider it live fire training. They are armed. The red dots bought a sorry assortment of pistols from a local contact today. Anybody that volunteers to affect the delay portion of our evening festivities needs to wear protection and get your night vision swag on. We’ll turn off the switch at our convenience and since we won’t be using local law enforcement, NVGs are the force multiplier you can count on. This mission will be comms-up. I expect maximum communication and no mistakes. You’ll each have a point-drone, so talk to it! I want non-lethal initial contact but be ready with your long gun to defend.” Megan Ward looked like she was following a pen drop to the floor. She recoiled from the sudden motion, restored her posture, and grinned. “I don’t want to deal with them again. Understood?”
She looked toward the door and said, “Willy, glad you’re back. Since this is your contract, you need to find six volunteers for this cleanup.” Over a dozen hands shot up. Megan Ward ignored them and continued, “The decoy party bus is yours and two other vehicles. The drivers are extras. You better not get them hurt. Ink the hell out of the vermin you drop and secure. Make them look like Blue Man Group. I don’t want to deal with the Mounties moralizing about how they couldn’t locate them, and I don’t want them to start high-tech searches. If they know we made them radioactive, there’ll be hell to pay. Shit, they might not let me freeze my ass at Lake Louise anymore.” Without a word, Megan Ward left the room.
“Now you understand why we call her Mega-War?” Willy said, “Go get yourself protection.” Willy pointed to the opposite corner of the room and said, “Meet you over there.”
Half the room’s contingent bumped him on the way out and the rest formed a line. By the time Hank made it to the other side of the room, he was last. Willy walked along from front to back, speaking to each. The people handing out gear knew who got what, so the line moved quickly. An assortment of gear passed over the tables, but everyone received law-enforcement type body armor and what looked like sunglasses. The rest of the equipment had no pattern. Hank saw a Taser pistol in a Kenai chest holster, at least two of the HK417s he’d seen in the refrigerator-safe, various boxes of ammo, and shotguns with red dot sights mounted like an afterthought. Hank was next in line when Willy smacked him on the shoulder.
“You sure you want to come along?”
“Last night Olin reminded me I had nothing to lose. So sure, why not?”
“You know your life will never be the same. Hope you didn’t like the old one much.” Willy grinned and said, “You’ll be my number seven. It’s a lucky number.” He turned to a young man handing out gear, pointed a thumb toward Hank and said, “Vest and goggles only. He’s got his own weapon.”
When Hank reached out for his body armor, the man said, “Sorry, last one but it’ll fit.” Then pushed a pair of the glasses across the table and said, “You’ll love these.”
Willy already had his vest on and was slinging his rifle across his back when Hank caught up to him.
“Are you kidding me?” Hank said, holding out the vest at arm’s length as if it smelled bad. But his disgust was not smell. The only remaining vest was formed to accommodate a female figure.
“Look, I’m not in charge of inventory, it’ll stop anything they throw at you and that’s the point… especially in the breast area,” Willy snickered. “I have an idea.” Leaving his shotgun and a box of ammo labeled Less Lethal—Flexible Baton unattended, he marched back to the tables. When he returned, he smiled and held out a blue, hooded rain jacket. On its back read SECURITY. “Wear this. It’ll cover up your vest so no one will ever know.” He insisted Hank put on the jacket and pulled off the SECURITY patch and replaced it with another large Velcro-backed patch, spelling out POLICE, and slapped his back. “Impersonating an officer has its advantages. It’s easier to fix later than it is to get shot by mistake.” Willy looked serious, steadied Hank’s shoulder with his meaty hand, and said, “If you need to sit this one out, now’s the time to say so.” He jutted his chin toward the monitors. “Ms. Ward would find a job for you.”
“Hey, I’ve never used these.” Hank gave his answer by holding out the wraparound glasses with thick lenses. “Any instructions?”
“Let’s break it down, Barney-style,” Willy said. “Put them on like sunglasses and open your eyes. You’ll see the light.” He gestured for Hank to tap the glasses temple with either index finger.
The room erupted with green dots covering the torso of every person in the room. Hank couldn’t repress a smile. Again, he tapped the temple and distances to the dots showed.
“Keep playing with it. Voice command works, too.” Willy grinned. “Even the SEALs don’t have this tech yet. Follow me.”
Hank’s eyebrows scrunched tight. Follow me? How many times had that suggestion ended well?