Page 45 of Doozer

Today we were running drills in Hogan’s Alley and I was in the hot seat. More specifically the “God Seat,” a term used by snipers to describe the shooter with the highest vantage point. I was positioned on top of a building made to look like a New York brownstone. My teammates, Tackle and Boots, were down the block, waiting outside a mock coffee shop. Taxi, along with the rest of our team, were observing silently from an unknown location.

Tackle, Boots, and I were running a training scenario in which we, the blue team, were acting as undercover agents making a large drug buy from a new supplier. The drug traffickers were played by seasoned Quantico instructors who held every possible advantage over us. The red team were seasoned veterans who knew every inch of Hogan’s Alley like the back of their hands, and they took no mercy on us. These exercises were child’s play to them, and so far, they’d handed our asses to us every time we went up against them. I was determined not to lose to them again.

My orders were to spot and identify any incoming forces and take them out should they engage first. I felt confident about the spot I’d chosen and a clear scope all the way down to my team. If these drug-running assholes tried anything, I was ready to light them up.

“Blue leader. A black SUV is heading your way, approaching from the west,” I said into the mic sewn into my collar. Our clothing was wired for sound enabling us to communicate with one another via wireless mics and earpieces.

“Copy that, Jehovah,” Tackle replied. “Confirmed, a bogie is headed our way.”

Tackle was the senior member of our team in all regards. He was the oldest, the first to be recruited by Taxi, and the one we looked to as our leader, whether he liked it or not. He rode with the Killing Jokers out of Florida, who were as old school as they came. He never talked about how he came to be on Taxi’s team, but I got the feeling it was for reasons more personal than business.

“Shit, man. An SUV? There’s no telling how many guys could be in there,” Boots said with a groan.

“Yup,” Tackle replied.

“Don’t worry, boys. God sees you and loves you very much,” I said, keeping my rifle trained on my team.

The SUV pulled up to the spot where Tackle and Boots were waiting, and four bad guys got out. One of them was carrying a metal briefcase.

“I have eyes on the package,” Tackle said.

“You’re right on time,” the red leader said, casually approaching my team.

“And you’re late,” Tackle said.

“What can I say, traffic this time of day is a bitch,” he said, motioning to the empty streets of Hogan’s Alley.

“What’s with all the guys?” Tackle asked.

The exercises Taxi had us running were designed to help us hone our undercover skills as much as our technical skills. We were to stay in character at all times during training, as if our lives depended upon it.

“Don’t worry about them,” the red leader said, motioning to the three men behind him. “They’re here for my peace of mind.”

“You named the time and place and we’re here. No bullshit, just like I said. So, we gonna do this or what?” Tackle asked.

“You got the money?” the red leader asked.

“It’s in the trunk,” Tackle said, pointing to the beat-up nineties Honda Accord training vehicle parked in front of the “coffee shop.”

Hogan’s Alley looked less like a training facility and more like the back lot of Hollywood movie studio, and if you didn’t look too closely at the buildings’ façades you’d swear you were in an actual town.

“How about you have your buddy there get it out of the trunk, nice and slow and we’ll make the exchange right here?” the red leader said.

“You heard him,” Tackle said to Boots. “Get the bag out of the car.”

“Nice and slow. So, I can see you,” the red leader said.

“We heard you. Take it easy,” Tackle said. “I told you, we’re straight. No tricks.”

“Yeah, well I don’t know you and I don’t like to take chances.”

Just then, I spotted a second black SUV round the corner of the drop location, parking just out of view of my scope. My heart raced at the complication and I had to think fast.

“Damnit,” I hissed, switching my mic on. “Blue leader, you’re gonna have company. An identical SUV just pulled up to the east corner. I have lost visual on it. Repeat, I have lost visual.”

I knew Tackle wouldn’t be able to respond without blowing his cover but hoped he could at least hear me.

“Hold up,” Tackle said to the red team leader. “I’m a cautious man myself, so how ’bout you let me see the product before we go any further.”

---