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[Taken from Brad Gregg’s memoirs. RBB]
When all is said and done, the success of any operation comes down to good intel and subsequent good planning. General Dick Beech was an exceptional strategist. Today, the White House would find out just how good he was.
Six unremarkable passenger carrying vans, portraying a number of bus operator names, turned into a suburban street and continued in file. It could have been a day out, a trip to the theatre or a sports event, but closer examination showed that the windows were rather darker than the normal glass found in these vehicles. They had all been adapted so that it was impossible to see the interiors from either the sidewalk or any passing vehicles. If you had been able to see through the windows, you’d have found that each bus contained between twelve and fifteen men and women, kitted out in camouflage fatigues with weapons on their laps. Some, the less experienced, fiddled with their guns, checking and double-checking the magazines, firing mechanisms or, in some cases, the safeties.
City Tours, the front vehicle, passed the last of the houses of the township and, three hundred yards later, pulled into a rest stop on the right of the road, the dappled sunshine running across the livery and windows. The other five vans continued onwards, keeping well within speed limits. The last thing they wanted was to be pulled over by an inquisitive patrolman.
The interior of City Tours, if it could have been seen, would have shown that it had nothing to do with learning about the local city. It was bristling with communications equipment. General Beech, Brad Gregg and a couple of others sat silently. They were waiting patiently, the air conditioning keeping the van’s interior bearable, but not cool. The radio sprang to life and a short message was heard, directing police officers to a disturbance at a filling station on the highway to the north. The officers replied that they were on their way. The message was of no interest to Beech. It would only be of interest if it was something on this eastern side of the city. Now that they were beyond the city limits, any disturbance which could possibly bring the police their way would be even less likely.
‘Couple of minutes,’ said Brad and the general nodded.
In the driver’s seat, another of the group was continually scanning her wing mirrors in case any inquisitive individual decided to find out why there was a tour bus sitting in this particular rest stop. No one approached. The closest houses were at least three hundred yards behind them. A farmhouse was on the left, about half a mile ahead of them and the target home nearly two miles ahead on the right.
‘B to F in position,’ a voice said over the radio.
’They’re in position,’ said the general.
‘Six limos of various sizes, two motorbikes and one air force jeep outside the house. Two armed soldiers in the driveway, looking bored. F out.’
‘B to E turned and ready,’ said another voice.
‘Clear the approach,’ said the general.
‘Ready to snipe,’ said one of the militia from coach F over the radio.
‘Go for that!’ the colonel’s voice was heard on the same channel.
The general listened intently. Mike was a good man. If anyone could pull this off, it was him.
Three men with rifles burrowed their way through the hedge and scrub trees until they had a good view of the soldiers leaning against the three-bar stock fence shielding the driveway. Two positioned themselves in the grass and wildflowers the other side of the hedge, lay on the ground and adjusted their rifles and telescopic sights. The third soldier crouched behind them with binoculars. The guards were approximately a hundred metres away along the drive. An easy shot with a sniper’s rifle, but these weapons were adapted to use poison darts, so not as accurate.
‘I’d still prefer a bullet. I don’t like this,’ whispered one man to the other.
‘Just don’t miss.’ said the crouching man. ‘Ready?’
‘Ready,’ said one.
‘Ready,’ said the other.
‘On the word fire. Three. Two. One. Fire!’
Both men squeezed their triggers simultaneously. The weapons gave a loud crack. Not as loud as a normal gunshot, but certainly loud enough to be heard at the target’s range.
All three watched. One man crumpled to the ground instantly. The second looked down at his jacket and tried to knock something off himself.
Within three seconds there was a second crack which caused the soldier to look towards the bushes. He had just unclipped his radio and was about to sound the alarm, when he too collapsed in a heap.
‘Snipe done,’ reported the third man. ‘House quiet. No one outside.’
‘Go, go, go!’ came the general’s voice.
The four coaches turned into the driveway and accelerated towards the house.
‘B to E on the drive,’ reported the third man, then he turned to his snipers and said, ‘Quick, back to the vehicle.’
The men were soon back in coach F, which reversed rapidly up the driveway, stopping by the two collapsed soldiers. Five men were out of the coach and pulling the soldiers on board. They then waited, effectively blocking the driveway. Near the house, the other four vehicles were decanting fifty armed militia behind a barn, about forty yards from the house.
««o»»
[Sorry. I had no records to work from regarding the party, but assume it was something like this. I had Brad Gregg’s notes and memoirs to assist me with the assault. RBB]
‘Happy Birthday to you!’
‘Happy Birthday dear Julia,’ the voices sang.
‘Happy Birthday to you!’
Surrounded by cheers and clapping, a ten-year-old girl blew out the candles.
‘Make a wish,’ her grandfather said.
‘I did, I...’
‘No, don’t tell us or it won’t come true,’ called her mother quickly to stop the child revealing her innermost desires.
Everyone laughed.
All of a sudden there was a crash. The armoured front door held.
‘Down, down, down!’ shouted a captain in the hallway. ‘Edwards, Dredge, here quickly. We’re under attack.’ He looked towards General Braun. The general nodded and ran through the kitchen towards the panic room.
A second huge crash still failed to get through the door.
The children and family were all prone on the living room floor.
Captain Tomkins shouted through to them. ‘Stay down and keep still. Don’t move and keep quiet!’
This time the door gave way. Edwards and Dredge immediately opened fire through the opening. There were some cries and shouts. Gunfire came the other way and the two men fell to the ground. The children and some of the adults in the living room began to scream and cry.
The captain had positioned himself on the next floor where he had a clear shot of the hallway through the timbered landing and bannisters.
Another volley of shots came through the doorway and the captain saw two, then four, then eight men enter and look into each of the ground floor rooms. Two more entered and he decided to take action. He began sweeping his automatic weapon fire from side to side into the hall area. Six men fell instantly, then his fire was returned. He retreated along the upper landing.
Four more men entered. ‘Where’s Braun?’ asked Colonel Mike Henderson.
‘Don’t know, sir. One man upstairs.’
Mike dashed through to the lounge and satisfied himself that the general was not among those on the floor.
‘Get that man upstairs!’ said Mike and, into the radio. ‘Twenty men in here at the double to search, and beware, we have one remaining rogue on the first floor.’
Mike turned towards the kitchen area, waited for some of the squad to enter the building and called four of them over. ‘The bomb shelter is in the cellar. Four of you with me.’
Mike and his team made their way through the kitchen, then a utility room where there was a strong door. Mike pulled on the handle. It was locked. ’This is it, pass me the bullhorn,’ he said.
Mike turned on the device and held it against the door. ‘General Braun. The house is in our possession. If you give yourself up now, then your family will not be harmed.’
They allowed five minutes and when there was no sound from the shelter, Mike spoke again into the bullhorn, ‘General Braun. You must surrender. If you do not open this door within five minutes, we will shoot one of the civilians who was at your granddaughter’s party. Five minutes. Not a second more.’
‘Get me the name of some adult from in there. A woman about thirty would be best,’ said Mike and one of his team dashed off through to the lounge area.
He was back within a minute. ‘Madelaine Ash – about thirty-five.’
Mike flipped on the megaphone, ’General Braun. You have two minutes thirty seconds before we shoot Madelaine Ash through both knees. Come out now,’ he said into the bullhorn. ‘Is Janet nearby?’ he asked the team.
‘Guarding the party guests.’
‘Go fetch her,’ Mike said and then, into the bullhorn, ‘Two minutes.’
‘One minute,’ he said into the bullhorn.
The original soldier returned with a young woman also in militia uniform.
‘You able to do a convincing scream?’ asked Mike.
‘I’ll have a go, sir.’
‘Right. David, when I say fire, I want you to fire your weapon into that pile of washing. Janet, you scream as if you’ve been shot through the knee. Then a second shot David, and a second scream. Make it good, Janet.’
Mike turned on the bullhorn. ‘Ten – nine – eight – last chance, General – six – five – I mean it – three – two – one – fire!’
The shot rang out and Janet made a valiant attempt at a scream and crying out, then she shouted, ‘No, no!’ David fired again and she released another agonising scream.
‘One more minute, General, and the next shot will be between her eyes. Come out now, unarmed and she’ll be rushed to a hospital. No one else will be harmed and you will be taken into custody. We have no intention of killing you. Come out now!’
A few seconds passed and then the sound of bolts being drawn came from the door.
‘Be ready,’ said Mike and two men aimed their rifles at the door.
The door opened and General Braun emerged with his hands raised. ‘You won’t get away with this?’ he said.
‘Search him, Hugh.’
The soldier made the general raise his arms and patted him down thoroughly. After a minute, Hugh said, ‘He’s clean.’
‘I don’t know who you are, but rest assured we will hunt you down for this,’ said the general.
‘Okay, get him out of here and clear the grounds now,’ said Mike. He shouted after them, ‘And let him see Mrs Ash so he knows we didn’t harm her.’
Within ten minutes all the guests’ cell phones had been removed and the house evacuated of militia. The coaches sped down the driveway and left in different directions, all taking separate routes once they got to the highway.
In the rest stop, General Beech was given confirmation of the success of the exercise. Four cars arrived a minute later and the important staff headed away, leaving just a couple of militia in the bus to make their own escape and to hide the communications vehicle.
««o»»
[From White House tapes. RBB]
‘What do you mean, he’s been kidnapped? How the blazing hell could that happen?’ shouted President Slimbridge, thumping the antique desk to punctuate his words. A teacup rattled in its saucer.
‘I’m sorry, sir,’ said the one-star General Perkins. ‘He was protected by a force of five. Four Marines and an air force captain. Two vanished with him. The captain and one of the other Marines were killed and the other is now under treatment. No civilians were harmed, and our men killed one of theirs although it is believed another two were wounded. It was a very well executed plan.’
‘I want to know how it was done. Detail. By lunchtime, General.’
‘Sir, who should stand in for him?’
‘I don’t know. Who’s the most senior army general?’
‘Winston Delve, sir, but he’s in Hawaii which is why I’m here.’
‘Get him back, then. Today! I want all the military chiefs here this evening. Can you get him back by then?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Right. Get out of my sight and be sure I have the report by midday, General!’
‘Yes, sir.’
The general left the room rather more hurriedly than he might have ordinarily and the president walked to the French windows, opening them and stepping outside where he stood in the walkway, watching rain cascading into the White House garden.
He turned and re-entered his office. The soldier in the walkway closed the door after him. He couldn’t have failed to have heard the string of profanity the president uttered as he walked to his desk. He sat, seething with anger.
‘Deirdre! Coffee!’ he shouted, then said more quietly, ‘and make it strong.’