Tick, tick, tick...
They didn’t have to wait long.
They heard trucks entering the parking lot. That pleasant sound of tire on gravel.
They could see the head-lights from 4x4’s flashing through the grimy windows of the motel.
Kate counted 3 trucks from the sounds of car doors opening and slamming shut, and from peeking through the curtains. Chevy, Ford, GMC. Nothing foreign for these boys.
There were 5 of them. Dressed in jeans and sweat-shirts. Most of them had red, Nebraska Cornhusker logos on them. They were all huge. Like a starting offensive line.Phone rings 12 miles north of motel...
"We just got here, Mr. Rollins. See 3 cars, the black boss, a sweet F150, and a Mercedes, license plate: MommaLovesUs"
"That would be the 2 from Vegas. I was told they were brothers. Who's the F150?"
"Don't know, Mr. Rollins. Bobby said Army guy. Other one is army too, the Mustang. Said that one looks tough. Bobby thought he was one of us, when he first came in. Girl's just a girl, I think."
"Ok, Brett. I want you guys to go in. Talk to Bobby. See whats what. Don't be afraid to do some damage. If the Italians give you trouble, tell them to come see me at the compound, ok? If they really give you trouble, shoot them. I'm not afraid of that sonafa&^%$@ in Vegas. We'll show 'em how we roll in these parts. They'll still want their shipment, so we should be ok. I'll handle the fall-out, if any. Cops won't bother you. FBI too far away. We're watching."
"Ok, you got it, Mr. Rollins."
About a minute now, Cutter figures, before the doors open.
A quote came to Cutter at that moment. He had met the General once in Basra. Shook his hand, was told by the general that he, Cutter, was doing a “helluva job”. Proud moment.
I come in peace, I didn't bring artillery. But I am pleading with you with tears in my eyes: If you @!#$ with me, I'll kill you all.
--Marine General James Mattis, to Iraqi tribal leaders