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.But if it comes to a face-off with the police, they ll have myorders to lay down.You got that? Now, where to?I told him.We were camped at the Rito Oso Picnic Area north of Fillmore, on aspur road off Forest Road 14.There were directional signs.Joe said the guys would get there about 11o clock.Then we disconnected.He d done a good job of acting.We both had.Wayne had one of the guys drive back to where the spur road met Forest Road14.The directional sign there had another sign hanging from it that saidNO CAMPING, which contradicted my story, and we wanted it out of sight when the SVIarrived.Assuming they came.When he got back, we moved all the vehicles butthe company sedan to the back end of the picnic area, where they couldn t beseen from the ambush zone.Then I had the men take their positions.One of the considerations was that the guys would get sleepy.So Wayne was upthe road a ways, hiding in a thicket of chaparral oak, watching.He was aninveterate varmint hunter he lived in the Simi Valley near the edge ofdevelopment and carried a crow hunter s call in his glove compartment.When hesaw someone coming, he was to caw three times, pause, then repeat, to alert usso everyone could get prone and ready.The guys were stationed in pairs,responsible for keeping each other awake.I sat at the first picnic table, 60 or 70 feet from the road and next to achimneyed stone fireplace I could duck behind.Then I waited, reading a copyofSports Afield that Wayne had had in his pickup.Reading a bit and thinking alot.Any battle plan, even a simple one like ours, is based on assumptions,and battles are famous for not going as planned.Things come up.Things gowrong.Everything goes to hell and confusion.If you ve read much history, youknow that.The SVI might not have heard my talk with Joe, and the LAPD might not get theword to them.Hell, no one might have been monitoring at all; we could havebeen talking to ourselves.Or Masters might smell a rat and stay away, or sendin a whole squad of men.Hopefully he d come in personally with only two orthree guys, and that would be all.But he might arrive with a squad, and sendscouts in first, and we d think the scouts were the whole party.Then we dhave the rest of them down on us after we d committed ourselves, and the shitwould hit the fan.That was my biggest worry that he d send in scouts first.After all, most ofhis guys were ex-Rangers or ex-Special Forces, and if he didn t think to send out scouts, they d remind him.But then, if they were only expecting a guy and his wife, why send scouts?Unless Masters smelled a rat.Back to that again.The stuff was running incircles through my mind.I d read a little, then discover I didn t know whatI d been reading that I was too busy worrying.A time or two I was interruptedin all this by crows cawing, but it was never three caws, then pause, thenthree more.It was always some other pattern, and answered from somewhereelse genuine conversations among genuine crows.They helped keep everyone moreor less alert.Page 148ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlIn my planning, I d figured the SVI people might come out in ground cars, butI d allowed for the chance that they d fly to Fillmore in a floater or maybetwo, which would be a lot quicker.Then fly in the rest of the way at nearroad level, in order to follow the signs.They d surely have flown to L.A.,and Masters no doubt had anLAPD temporary permit to operate out of the city s various shuttle fields.At 9:12 by my watch, I heard Wayne s crow call, and my guts tightened.I wasglad I d taken time to relieve myself at the restaurant.Ten or twelve secondslater, an eight-passenger skyvan floated into sight, just centimeters abovethe road.I recognized the driver as Masters; this was no scouting party.Steinhorn sat next to him in front I could see his black eyes and there wereseveral guys behind them.They saw me almost at once and stopped in the road.Masters gave an order, then got out, leaving Steinhorn in front.I got upslowly, staring as if I d just then realized who they were.Three guys got outof the back, carrying old AK-47s.Masters himself held a.45 caliber servicepistol pointed loosely in my direction.The hair bristled on the back of my neck. Mr.Seppanen, Masters said with exaggerated courtesy. I m delighted to meetyou at last.I dropped the pretense. The feeling is mutual, Masters.Please drop yourweapons.My people are all around you, ready to blow.That s all I got out.Masters raised his automatic with both hands and Istarted to throw myself behind the fireplace.There was a lot of gunfire theboom of the.45, the brief vicious sound of AK-47s, the heavier boom ofshotguns, and the swoosh-whump of two car-killers hitting the enginecompartment, all of it seeming simultaneous with a stunning pain in my head, asearing pain in my buttocks.Somehow I was still conscious, even though myvision had turned off.Someone was shouting Jesus Christ, guys, hold yourfire! Hold your fire!By that time it had already stopped.Voices called sharply; I don t recallwhat.Then someone right next to me said Shit! God damn it! He took one rightin the head!It hurt, all right, and my butt felt like someone had run a red-hot pokerthrough it from one side to the other.Icouldn t see anything, but for some stupid reason tried to get up.All Iaccomplished was to nearly pass out. Hey, he moved! He s alive!I wanted to say Hell yes I m alive, but didn t.It occurred to me I mightvomit, and choke on it.The next thing I was aware of, an indeterminate time later, I was on astretcher, being loaded by paramedics into a floater.35 LEGAL WRAP-UPI was more or less conscious in the ambulance at first.I was aware of aparamedic saying, I don t think his wound is that serious, and then, Him?We may lose him. And realized vaguely that I wasn t the only casualty in theambulance.When they were satisfied my skull wasn t fractured, they shot me upwith something, after which I didn t remember anything for a while.Actually they evacuated four wounded in two ambulances: me and three of theSVI people, while two lay dead back in the campground: Masters and one of hismen
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