The light grey van circled the block for a third time. At 4:00 am the streets were largely desserted. The plot of land inside the block was mostly undeveloped and was covered with all manner of weeds and trash. In the northwest corner was a small hill covered with scrub trees formed while leveling the land. Inside the van a police scanner was quiet. "Next pass." A dark shape said from the back of the van. The driver grunted in reply. The van made a right turn, drove slowly down the street. There were no cars either in front or behind. The van stopped momentarily, the side door slide open. The bulbs to the interior lights had been removed so the van remained dark as two dark shapes exited the van a dissapead into the brush. Once five yards in the two shapes crouched down and remained motionless. For five minutes nothing moved. First one then the other of the shapes slowly crept forward through the darkness. It took almost 30 minutes for the pair to cover the 40 yards to the surveyors stake pounded into the top of the small hill. Again the pair crouched in the darkness, eyes scanning for movement, ears straining for unnatural sounds. Satisified one of the dark shapes slipped a case off her shoulder. She opened it and removed a rifle. The rifle was a Savage 110FP with a 36 power Redfield target scope and a Harris bipod. The barrel was custom made by Kreigler and chambered in 300 Whisper. The 300 Whisper cartridge was designed to be used in a supressed version of the M-16 rifle. It used a very heavy match bullet travelling at just under the speed of sound. It was very quite and very accurate. She flipped down the legs of the Harris bipod attached to the synthetic forearm of the rifle and gently lowered herself to the ground. She squirmed into position behind the rifle and gently flipped up the lens cover on the telescopic sight. Peering through the sight she could see a back door entrance, that she couldn't see the cross hairs of the scope yet didn't matter. Her partner opened a quart plastic bottle of water and poured it on the ground around the muzzle of the rifle to prevent dust from being kicked up by the muzzle blast. He knelt beside her and removed a laser range finder and checked the distance to the back door. 'Three hundred six yards', he whispered. The shooter turned one of the knobs on her scope, lowering the elevation by a quarter of a minute of angle. He replaced the range finder in his fanny pack and removed a Motorla portable two way FM radio. He clipped it to his belt and put the earpiece in his ear. He laid next to the shooter pulled a small pair of binoculars and began waiting. XXXX Dr. Sahra Brady pulled her Lexus into heavy morning traffic. She flipped on the radio filling the car with classical music from National Public Radio. Her thoughts drifted toward her day, six procedures. Three were Mexicans , two others were blacks - five less future gang members she thought. The final procedure was a young white girl from Barrington. The age on her medical history said 18 but the year on her date of birth had been scratched out and corrected. She'd seen that before. Knocked up by her boy friend, parents probably conservative Christian Nazis. She was drop dead goergous, smart why ruin her life with a child so young besides she'd paid cash. The thought of the young blond caused the doctors nipples to stiffen and her crotch to tingle. She though of the evenings awards banquet where her wife Barbra would be awarded the Bill Klinton award by the Illinois Coalition to Ban Firearms. Barbra always got horney after public recognition. Tonight promised to be quite a night. She began unconsiously rubbing her crotch through her pants. Her thoughts were rudely snapped back to reality by the mob in front of her office. It was the usual bunch of religous zelots. They were split into two groups, one in front of the entrance to the clinic the other in driveway to the staff parking area behind the clinic. Just sitting there singing their stupid songs with their stupid signs. Shit she thought, she'd have to postpone one - maybe two procedures. She drove past her office and pulled into the Mc Donalds on the corner. The cell phone came out of her purse, she hit a speed dial button. "Multi Jursidictional Task Force - Chicago. Special Agent Weston speaking." "This is doctor Brady of the Women's Health Clinic there's a mob outside my office. They're getting violent, can you please send help?" "We're on our way mam, please keep your staff clear of the area." She turned broke the connection. With a few hours to kill she decided to go to the Victoria's Secret store to get something special for the evening ahead. XXXXXX Police Major Bill Mcamey heard the call on his radio. Great he though, MJTF was rolling to break up a 'violent demonstration'. Those asshole, police wannabe's got their rocks off roughing people up. It'd be maybe half an hour before those dickheads got their crap in a pile and got out here, maybe he could persuade the folks to go home. He called in his intentions and headed out. His heart sank as soon as he pulled up in front of the clinic. These were some of the hard core members of the Life movement, they were staging an 'act of civil disobediance' and weren't going anywhere. Shit, some of them were from his Parish. Damn that President Klinton and her Executive Order banning public demonstrations. A few minutes later a small black bus pulled into the parking lot across the street from the Women's Health Clinic. A man jumped out and walked over to Mcamey. He was dressed in black battle dress utilities with a pistol hanging low on his thigh in an assault holster. "Mcamey, I'm Special Agent Weston of MJTF Chicago. We have a violation of Federal Executive Order 1307, I'm assuming tactical command of the scene." What an ass, Mcamey thought. "MAJOR Macamey of the Schaumberg PD. I'm the Watch Commander, let's try to not hurt anybody today." "That's entirely up to the mob over there. I need your department to provide three or four black and whites for traffic control." "My troops are tied up right now, it'll take 30 minutes or so to get 'em here." "Yeah right, I'll remember this for my after action report. Stay out of the way", Weston barked. He stalked back to the bus. The bus door opened and two groups of men carried portable barricades to the intersections and blocked traffic. Mcamey grunted in amusment as one group had trouble erecting the wooden baricade. What a bunch of fuckups he thought. After his troops returned to the bus Weston emerged carrying a bullhorn. "I am Specal Agent Weston of the Multi Jurisditional Task Force, Chicago. You are in viloation of Executive Order 1307. You are ordered to disperse. You have one minute to comply!" The crowd across the now empty six lane road. Didn't move they just sat there singing. Weston turned to the van, "Fall in!". Out of the bus came 15 MJTF special agents clad in full riot gear. They formed up in a line not 20 yards from the demonstrators. "On Guard!" Like a squad of Marine Recruits the lexan visors on helments were flipped down. "Riflemen, ready beanbags!" Two men went down on a knee. The racked open pump shotguns and placed special nonlethal shells into the weapons. "Ready!" The two gunners called. "One round, FIRE!" Weston commanded. The shotguns barked in unison, but both shooters had jerked the triggers and the bean bags sailed harmlessly over the demonstrators. That prompted a chorus of hoots and jeers. The riflemen's faces turned red with rage. "Riflemen, ready beanbags!" "Ready!" The two gunners called. "FIRE!" Weston commanded. This time the shooters aim was true. They had both chosen the same target, an attractive Catholic nun in her mid twenties. The first round, a four square inch kevlar sack filled with sand, struck her square in the face. It instantly turned her nose to mush and snapped her head back. The next round arrived a fraction of a second later. It struck a few inches lower than the first directly on her neck crushing her throat. She pitched forward onto the ground and went into convultions. A pool of blood begining to spread in front of her. Damn Macamey thought. He grabbed the mike on his radio and called for an ambulance and all available units from the Schaumberg Police Department. He started to get out of his squad roll when a third volley of bean bags was fired. Fuck it, this is getting totally out of hand he thought. The closed the car door and gunned the engine. He slammed the car into gear, maybe if he could put himself between the 'rioters' and those jackbooted MJTF thugs maybe he could quite this thing down. XXXXXXXXXX "Dan this is Mitch", said a voice in the ear piece of the spotters of the radio. Of course his name wasn't Dan and neither was Mitch the name of voice. "Go Mitch." "Looks like the Inspector is going to be delayed. Hang loose." "Got it." the spotter said. He turned to the shooter and whispered, "Looks like a delay". She nodded to him in reply. She moved the rifle a few inches to the right and let her head slump forward onto her forearm. The took the strain out of her neck, back and shoulders and let her eyes rest. BooBooom!! "What the?" BoomBoom!! "What the hell, that sounds like shotguns!" the Shooter said. "From around front of the clinic", the spotter added. A siren squeeled followed a few seconds later by a pair of low thumps. The second sound puzzled the pair as neither had ever heard the sound of a tear gas gun. XXXXXXX-----------------XXXXXXXXXXX The screeming squad roll caught Agent Weston by supprise. What the hell is that asshole Macamey doing? I ought to arrest his ass. Then a though came to Weston. What about Macamey's pistol? Did he have a shotgun in his car? Could the rioters use it? He had to end this now. "Ready gas!" he called. "Ready!" called two agents. "Fire!" The two CS gas cannisters flew toward the protestors. One struck a Catholic Priest in the forehead cuting a deep gouge and knocking the holy man unconsious. The second hit the front of the clinic and bounced back into the protestors. Both cannisters began spewing clouds of noxious CS gas. The crowd was immediatly blinded by the gas. Coughing, chokeing, some vomiting, the crowd was totally incapacitated. "Move in! Arrest everyone!" Weston commanded. The men moved forward in a vicious attack. They worked in elements of three. Two men with a riot shields and coiled steel spring batons in front went first followed by a third man with a taser and plastic flexi-cuffs that looked like large cable ties. The elements moved into the crown ordering the victem to lie face down on the ground. Those too disoriented by the blinding, choking gas to instantly comply and were beaten to the ground by the front two men, then zapped with the taser and cuffed by the third. XZXZXZXZXZXZXZXZ The first ambulance to arrive called for backup. There were three groups of people laid out in the parking lot. The first was a single female body, dead. The second was a group of five, hands tied behing their backs obviously in need of immediate medical help. The final group of over a dozen didn't appear to need immediate help, although many wou;d need stitches to close various wounds. The were sitting on the curb, hands tied behind their back with black hoods over their heads. Shit was all the paramedic could think. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX Dr. Brady got a call that all was clear and made a call to her office maneger to get everyone in to work. They'd have to cancel half the days procedures. Oh well she decided to grab some lunch then head in. She's at least be able to get rid of the pretty blonds problem. ZXZXZXZXZXZXZXZXZXZXZX "Dan this is Mitch there were some problems out front but the inspector is on the way. He'll be there in 10 minutes." "Ok Mitch we'll be ready." The spotter turned to the shooter, "Get ready. We got 5 mph wind from the left." The shooter made an adjustment to the windage turret on her Redfield scope and got into position. ZCZCZCZCZCZCCZCZCZCZCZC Dr. Brady frowned as she pulled into the parking lot. The plate glass window on the front of her office was spider webbed. She pulled up to the security gate, leaned out the window and swiped a card through the device. A yellow light flashed at her, indicating the system was on a higher security setting. She's have to punch in a manual security code. Good, Carol was on top of things. She drove slowly down a narrow alley to the courtyard like parking area. She could see her office maneger and nurses cars already parked. Good she thought. Geting out of her car she went to the door and tried to turn the knob. It resisted and a yellow light on the key pad to her right flashed. She was about to key her security code when a 240 grain Sierra Matchking boattail hollowpoint hit her in the back at just less that 1000 feet per second, it had taken the bullet just under one second to reach her. It struck less than an inch from its intended point of impact but that didn't matter. The bullet hit the spine, severing it before proceeding to shred the left ventrical of the abortionists heart. It then exited out the front of her body, spraying blood on the concrete wall a fraction of a second before the bullet hit and shattered into fragments. Dr. Sara Brady fell to the ground in a lifeless heap. zxzxzxzxzxzxzxzx "Hit", the spotter called. He looked over at the shooter, she was beginning to turn pale. He keyed his mike, "Pickup". Was all he said. "Come on, gotta move!", he said to his shooter. They picked up everything they came in with and five minutes later the van slowed for an instant. They stepped out of the brush and into it. They didn't need to hurry it would be half an hour before the body would be found. In another 90 minutes they were in Rockford and returned the van to the rental agency. Twenty minutes after that they were driving in the old blue Suburban down Interstate 39, the first part of the 8 hour trip to the 'Farm' in Kentucky. ZXZXZXZXZXZXZX Detective Sloan thought this was just great. He'd left the Chicago Police Department to get away from homicide investigations. This one ought to be simple enough. A peaceful demonstration by prolife activists is savagely put down. One of their buddies comes back and caps the abortion doc. Couse the prolife folks hadn't done anything violent in what four years? Well maybe that had changed. "Tapes ready Dick.", and evidence tech called. The tape was a standard security tape monitoring the door. Since the parking area was sort of an enclosed court the perp must have hopped the wall hidden behind, or maybe even in one of the cars already parked against the wall. Doc drives up to her reserved spot, hops out and pop! The wide angle lens should give a decent view of the mutt. The investigator started to speed queue the tape. In a moment he saw the Lexus drive in. He watched and frowned. The bitch was dead before she hit the ground but no shooter on the tape. "I'm Special Agent Weston of Multi Jursiditional Task Force Chicago, I'm assuming control of the crime scene." In front of the detective was a black clad little man with a huge ego. This little prick couldn't pour piss out of his boot if there were instructions on the heal the cop thought. "All yours." Sloan said. He waved his guys back and watched as the ninja wannabes from MJTF proceeded to stomp all over the crime scene. After half an hour Weston walked over Sloan and lit a cigar. "Ok, here's my read. We break up a riot in front of the clinic this morning. Some of those religous zelots or their friends come back, hop the wall and ambush the Doc." "I don't know said Sloan. Something funny here not sure what. Did you see the entrance wound? Looks like a pipsqueek round like a .32 ACP. We're talking about a range in feet and not many of those but no shooter on the security tape. Plus she was dead when she hit the ground. I've seen people shot with a .32 they usually flop and bleed and make a hell of a mess, and usually live through it." "Well I think we're going to take the direct route on this. First we sweat information out of the rioters then run their buddies to the ground. See who squeels" Weston said. "Just round up the usual suspects." Sloan said to himself.