the
district.”
“Our
town,” Vyptor said. “My headquarters for 676 th Reserve Army is
temporarily moved for six months to the town half an hour from here because our
building is getting reconstructed and renovated.”
“Exactly,”
Sayett said. “And this town has between one-hundred thousand and two-hundred
fifty-thousand people; the same demographic pattern for the rest of the hits.”
“Well,
what about the police?” the colonel asked,
“I
have a lunch meeting with the police chief at noon at Hyte’s Foodhouse,” Sayett
said. “But I have checked this town’s numbers. Total of ninety policemen, about
ten will be on vacation on any given day. From the remaining eighty you have
four, six-hour shifts, that leaves twenty on duty any time for the whole town.
The bank robbers are not your typical yahoos with shotguns; they are mercenaries
with Ranx Rifles—automatics.”
“You
definitely need us then,” Vyptor finished the coffee with one last gulp and put
it on the table, “By the way, great place that Hyte’s, get Pork & Buffalo
Combo, my recommendation.”
“Will
try,” Sayett said, “If you can, I would like twenty-five to thirty warriors
around the clock. There are three big banks here; luckily they are close to
each other. If you keep your boys in one of the hotels nearby, that would be
great.”
“Sounds
good,” Vyptor said. “Will take me about a day to set it up. They should be here
by tomorrow morning.”
Suddenly
they heard a couple of gunshots ring out from down the street. All four of them
got up and looked in that direction. The two soldiers—Ryft and Woker—had pulled
their pistols. There weren’t many people on the streets or sidewalks this early
in the morning, but whoever there was, started running towards them or into the
side streets. They heard a few more gunshots and then continuous firing.
“Coming
from the bank?” Sayett asked.
“Yes.
Damn bastards couldn’t wait a day.”
“Let’s
go get them.” Sayett took out his pistol. The colonel was already walking down
the road towards the center of the town from where the gunshots were coming.
Sayett was behind the colonel and the two soldiers behind him.
“Should
have brought our ATR’s,” Ryft said.
They
walked on the sidewalk. They hurried but did not run and in a few minutes were
onto the scene.
A
police car was parked in the middle of the street; the two policemen behind it
with Lockyett five-shot repeater rifles were trading fire with the two bank
robbers armed with Ranx Rifles. The robbers were positioned behind a three-foot
wall on either side of the top of the steps leading to the bank entrance on the
second floor. One of the bank robbers was straight ahead from the police
position while the other was at a forty-five degree angle, and their automatic
fire had pinned the two policemen down.
On
the other side of the street were stores with big columns, wide enough for a
man to safely stand behind. Colonel Vyptor was two buildings away from the
store in front of the bank and started to cross the street when he saw a young
kid with ATR coming down a side street.
“Boy,
how old are you?” he shouted out at him.
“O’
Colonel,” the boy was surprised for a moment. “I am sixteen.”
“Where
did you get that rifle? You are too young to be part of any army.”
“It’s
my brother’s; he is a warrior under your command,” he said, “but he is working
at the tire factory; thought I might help out the police.”
“You
are a brave boy,” the colonel said, “But throw me that rifle. You are too young
and your brother wouldn’t like me risking you.”
The
boy hesitated. He looked at the colonel and at the three men standing
district.”
“Our
town,” Vyptor said. “My headquarters for 676 th Reserve Army is
temporarily moved for six months to the town half an hour from here because our
building is getting reconstructed and renovated.”
“Exactly,”
Sayett said. “And this town has between one-hundred thousand and two-hundred
fifty-thousand people; the same demographic pattern for the rest of the hits.”
“Well,
what about the police?” the colonel asked,
“I
have a lunch meeting with the police chief at noon at Hyte’s Foodhouse,” Sayett
said. “But I have checked this town’s numbers. Total of ninety policemen, about
ten will be on vacation on any given day. From the remaining eighty you have
four, six-hour shifts, that leaves twenty on duty any time for the whole town.
The bank robbers are not your typical yahoos with shotguns; they are mercenaries
with Ranx Rifles—automatics.”
“You
definitely need us then,” Vyptor finished the coffee with one last gulp and put
it on the table, “By the way, great place that Hyte’s, get Pork & Buffalo
Combo, my recommendation.”
“Will
try,” Sayett said, “If you can, I would like twenty-five to thirty warriors
around the clock. There are three big banks here; luckily they are close to
each other. If you keep your boys in one of the hotels nearby, that would be
great.”
“Sounds
good,” Vyptor said. “Will take me about a day to set it up. They should be here
by tomorrow morning.”
Suddenly
they heard a couple of gunshots ring out from down the street. All four of them
got up and looked in that direction. The two soldiers—Ryft and Woker—had pulled
their pistols. There weren’t many people on the streets or sidewalks this early
in the morning, but whoever there was, started running towards them or into the
side streets. They heard a few more gunshots and then continuous firing.
“Coming
from the bank?” Sayett asked.
“Yes.
Damn bastards couldn’t wait a day.”
“Let’s
go get them.” Sayett took out his pistol. The colonel was already walking down
the road towards the center of the town from where the gunshots were coming.
Sayett was behind the colonel and the two soldiers behind him.
“Should
have brought our ATR’s,” Ryft said.
They
walked on the sidewalk. They hurried but did not run and in a few minutes were
onto the scene.
A
police car was parked in the middle of the street; the two policemen behind it
with Lockyett five-shot repeater rifles were trading fire with the two bank
robbers armed with Ranx Rifles. The robbers were positioned behind a three-foot
wall on either side of the top of the steps leading to the bank entrance on the
second floor. One of the bank robbers was straight ahead from the police
position while the other was at a forty-five degree angle, and their automatic
fire had pinned the two policemen down.
On
the other side of the street were stores with big columns, wide enough for a
man to safely stand behind. Colonel Vyptor was two buildings away from the
store in front of the bank and started to cross the street when he saw a young
kid with ATR coming down a side street.
“Boy,
how old are you?” he shouted out at him.
“O’
Colonel,” the boy was surprised for a moment. “I am sixteen.”
“Where
did you get that rifle? You are too young to be part of any army.”
“It’s
my brother’s; he is a warrior under your command,” he said, “but he is working
at the tire factory; thought I might help out the police.”
“You
are a brave boy,” the colonel said, “But throw me that rifle. You are too young
and your brother wouldn’t like me risking you.”
The
boy hesitated. He looked at the colonel and at the three men standing
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