Omerta - Mario Puzo [102]
That night Boxton accompanied Sestak to the operational area around Cilke’s home in New Jersey. Lights had been left on in the house to make it look like someone was home. Also there were three cars parked in the driveway to give the impression that the house guards were inside. The cars were booby-trapped so that if they were started, they would blow up. Otherwise Boxton could see nothing.
“Where the hell are your hundred men?” Boxton asked Sestak.
Sestak gave him a huge grin. “Pretty good, huh? They’re all around here, and even you can’t see them. They already have lines of fire. When the attackers come in, the road will be sealed behind them. We’ll have a basket full of rats.”
Boxton remained at Sestak’s side at a command post fifty yards from the house. With them was a communications team of four men who wore camouflage to match the patch of woods they used as cover. Sestak and his team were armed with rifles, but Boxton only had his handgun.
“I don’t want you in the fighting,” Sestak told Boxton. “Besides, that weapon you carry is useless here.”
“Why not?” Boxton said. “I’ve been waiting my whole career to shoot the bad guys.”
Sestak laughed. “Not today. My team is protected by executive order from any legal inquiries or prosecution. You’re not.”
“But I’m in command,” Boxton said.
“Not when we become operational,” Sestak told him coolly. “Then I’m in sole command. I make all the decisions. Even the director can’t supersede me.”
They waited together in the darkness. Boxton looked at his watch. It was ten minutes to midnight. One of the communications team whispered to Sestak, “Five cars filled with men are on approach to the house. The road behind them has been sealed. Estimated time of arrival is five minutes.
Sestak was wearing infrared goggles that gave him night vision. “OK,” he said. “Send the word. Don’t fire unless fired upon or at my order.”
They waited. Suddenly five cars raced to the driveway and men spilled out. One of them immediately threw a firebomb into Cilke’s house, breaking a pane of glass and sending a thin blaze of red fire inside the room.
Then suddenly the whole area was flooded with bright searchlights that froze the group of twenty attackers. At the same time a helicopter whirred overhead with glaring lights. Loudspeakers roared a message into the night. “This is the FBI. Throw away your weapons and lie on the ground.”
Dazzled by the light and the helicopters, the trapped men froze. Boxton saw with relief that they had lost all will to resist.
So he was surprised when Sestak brought up his rifle and fired into the group of attackers. Immediately the attack group started firing back. And then Boxton was deafened by the roar of gunfire that swept the driveway and mowed down the attackers. One of the booby-trapped cars exploded. It was as if a hurricane of lead had completely devastated the driveway. Glass shattered and poured down a silver rain. The other cars sank to the ground so riddled with bullets that their outsides had no color. The driveway seemed to spout a spring of blood that flowed and eddied around the cars. The twenty attackers were blood-soaked bundles of rags looking like sacks of laundry to be picked up.
Boxton was in shock. “You fired before they could surrender,” he said to Sestak accusingly. “That will be my report.”
“I differ,” Sestak grinned at him. “Once they firebombed the house, that was attempted murder. I couldn’t risk my men. That will be my report. Also that they fired first.”
“Well, it won’t be mine,” Boxton said.
“No kidding,” Sestak said. “You think the director wants your report? You’ll be on his shit list. Forever.”
“He’ll want your ass because you disobeyed orders,” Boxton said. “We’ll go down in flames together.”
“Good,” Sestak said. “But I’m the tactical commander. I can’t be overruled. Once I’m called in, that’s it. I don’t want criminals to think they can attack a federal officer. That’s the reality, and you and the director can go fuck yourselves.”
“Twenty dead men,” Boxton said.
“And good riddance to them,” Sestak