Fiction – Ruth’s Story Part 8

Picking up the dark blue jacket I used earlier to push the glass back in place, I check its pockets. I had noticed earlier that it is way heavier than it should be. Noticing now that it is an older Scottevest Expedition Jacket I lay it out over my legs.

The jacket has been well cared for and despite being old and obviously well-worn, is in excellent shape. These Scottevest jackets are supposed to have a million pockets. A few of the guys I worked with in the field wore similar jackets and vests.

Well let’s see what kind of goodies this jacket holds. Before I start digging into the pockets in the jacket, I stand up and retrieve my loot off the top of the counter. No sense in spreading it all over the place.

I make a small pile on the floor to my right of the stuff I took off Williams’ body in between me and the pile of shit I scooped off the floor of the baggage terminal. I’ll go through the crap I scooped off the floor in a while.

Stretched out on the floor partially covered by the warm jacket I realize that I am starting to doze off. Shit! I quickly stand and stretch, sleep sounds good but I am starving. Performing a yoga standing forward bend (called Uttanasana in Sanskrit) I discover that my legs and buttocks are tight. I am still able to put my chin on my shins with my palms flat on the floor but I am sure that my form is off a bit.

I have not done any stretches or yoga in more than five days. I will be eternally grateful to Amy for getting me hooked on yoga. I have always been fairly limber, but even I found yoga challenging. All this stretching reveals that I also need to go to the bathroom.

Digging around behind the counter in the room, I find a medium-sized rectangular Ziplock plastic container with a light blue lid. Inside the container are a bunch of pens, pencils, loose staples, and Post It notes. Dumping the office supplies out on top of the counter, I decide this will be my portable field latrine.

Going to my rolling carryon bag, I unzip and it and dig out one of the two precious rolls of toilet paper I managed to grab from the lady’s room a few days ago. Stuffing the Ziplock box with several pieces of discarded clothing and some loose paper from the shit I grabbed off the baggage claim floor, I decide this is about as good as a field latrine as I am going to get.

Removing the Beretta pistol from my waist band I set it on the counter. Dropping trou’ and squatting over the Ziplock box to do my business is not exactly glorious, but hey when you gotta go, you gotta go! Grimacing at the smell of myself, I use some TP to clean up, then I put my clothes back together.

Snapping the lid firmly  back on the Ziplock box, I tuck it in the corner near the counter. I slide it on a shelf in the counter near the floor so that I will not step on it in the dark. While thinking how nasty that would be, I replace the Beretta pistol in the waistband of my pants in the center of my back. I take a moment to replace the TP roll back in my rolling carryon bag.

Sitting on the floor again near my loot, I grab the Scottevest jacket and resume searching it. This Scottevest Expedition jacket is made with the old khaki Gortex fabric. I see this is one of the Executive Protection jackets with a Nomex and Kevlar inner shell. Supposed to be able to stop most non-magnum handgun ammunition but let’s not test it. Expensive jacket back in its day but they are good quality and still highly prized. The jacket smells faintly of cigarettes and a pleasantly masculine musky aftershave – definitely a man’s jacket.

Starting in the arm pockets I find another pair of chocolate and peanut butter Power Bars. Makes me suspect whose coat this was. A pair of black gel ball point pens in the left arm pocket gets added to the pile of loot along with the two Power Bars.

The inside chest pocket has one of the new twenty-four terabyte IPods hooked to a nice pair of Apple ear buds tucked into the collar. I check the IPod and it boots right up. Still has about three-quarters of its battery charged and is not password protected. Scrolling through the IPod’s menu, I see it is full of classic blues, classic American hip hop, and classic American rock music. I begin to add the IPod to the pile of loot, then think better of it and leave it where it is.

Continuing my search of the inside pockets of the jacket, I find a sealed one liter bottle of Glacier spring water in the left lower pocket. Beside the bottle water is a pair of Ruger LC9 clips full of Federal Hydra-Shok hollow point 9mm Parabellum ammunition. Now I am sure whose coat this was.

In the right lower pocket I find a small personal first aid kit. The rest of the pockets in the coat are empty.

I decide to pop open the liter bottle of Glacier water I found in the coat. I drink about half of it while deciding that I am going to keep the coat. It will help me haul all this stuff and is very warm. I could probably wear it over my own coat. Having grown up in the desert I hate the cold, and I get cold easy. Never liked the winters in DC.

Standing, I try the coat on, shit it hangs to my knees! The sleeves are way too long but I can shove them up. I bet if I had a mirror I’d look like a tanned Pillsbury dough boy in this coat. But hey it is warm and waterproof and will make a good second coat to my own old coat in my carryon bag.

Setting the half-empty Glacier water bottle on the counter I decide to search the room later. I came here for my Pelican cases but have gotten a little distracted. There are lots of boxes and several piles of unclaimed luggage.

Amid a teeming sea of multi-colored nylon, and bright plastic my two flat black, scratched and beat up, very-utilitarian Pelican cases stick out like a pair of Black Panthers at a KKK rally. As far as I can see, my cases are the only two Pelican cases in the room. They also appear to be the only luggage the TSA has so kindly marked with their “steal me now!” stickers telling everyone they contain firearms. Just so the sticky-fingered baggage handler is sure not to miss them.

My smaller 1500 Pelican case is stacked on top of my larger 1770 long case. Having found a pair of pistols I do not really need my weapons. However, there is a pair of items I wish to check.

My 1770 Pelican case has a secret compartment inside the top and bottom lids. I got the case when I was working on contract with a friend from the NSA (No Such Agency). He let me keep the case and the items inside it. Supposedly even an x-ray machine will not reveal the location of the secret compartment and its contents. I want to make sure my goodies are still there.

Setting my 1500 case on the floor I lay my 1770 on the counter. Opening the two TSA-approved Pelican combination pad locks, I press the two equalization valves and listen to the pleasant hiss of air escaping.

Popping the latches I crack my long Pelican case open revealing my semi-auto POF (Patriot Ordnance Factory) piston-driven AR15 carbine still lying securely in its foam padding. Lifting my POF AR15 out of its case I lay it on the counter top being careful of the Trijicon ACOG in its LaRue tactical mount on top of the rifle.

Laying next to my carbine is my Cold Steel Special Forces shovel. Why I decided to toss the shovel in my case while I was hurriedly packing I will never know. Amy gave me the shovel for Christmas months ago as a gag gift. Even though I am Jewish, I did not mind celebrating Christmas with Amy. It is a handy tough little shovel and I like it. Patterned after the old Soviet Spetznaz shovel (which I am moderately familiar with), the Cold Steel shovel makes a deadly weapon as well as a handy tool. I would much rather use this little shovel than the damn fire axe I have been using to bash zombies. I set my shovel beside the carbine on the counter.

Removing the foam from the lower half of the case, I start to try to open the secret compartment then I remember that I need the magnetic key from my purse. Going to my rolling carry on case, I get my purse from where it has been laying wrapped around the carry and drag handle. Digging in my purse for a few moments reveals my key ring with its secret magnetic key.

Returning to the long 1770 Pelican case, I press the magnetic key in the correct locations hearing the mechanism inside the secret compartment unlock. Pushing down to pop one of the sides up so that I can grab the cover, I remove it from my Pelican case.

Setting aside the cover to the lower secret compartment I look inside my case to see that all my hidden treasures are still there. Beside a small box containing a very illegal four position fire control group for my AR15 (which turns it into an assault rifle capable of fully automatic fire) is an equally illegal, unregistered US government owned AAC (Advanced Armament Corp) suppressor for my AR15.

My NSA friend let me “keep” the AAC suppressor and the fire control group after working with the Agency on some intelligence operations a few years ago. Having my AR15 fitted with an AAC tooless suppressor ratcheting-mount makes installing and removing the suppressor a breeze.

OK so those goodies are there what about the rest? I replace the foam and lid on the secret compartment and secure the POF carbine back in its place. I see that all eight of my empty Magpul AR15 magazines are still present.

Taking the foam out of the top of the Pelican case, I use the magnetic key again to unlock the top compartment. This is the one I was always worried about when I travelled for “business.”

Pressing on the lid and removing the cover to the secret compartment, I see my little deadly Swiss beauty! My desert tan Brugger and Thomet MP9 is truly a thing of deadly beauty. Much more reliable and easier to handle and care for than either the old Uzi or the ubiquitous H&K MP5 I carried back home for a while. The MP9 is capable of firing up to 900 rounds per minute.

My B&T MP9 with its folding shoulder stock and proprietary silencer is much easier to handle than either the Uzi or the MP5 with similar attachments.The MP9 is smaller, weighs less, and has better ergonomics than either the Uzi or MP5.

The only submachine gun that I found easier to handle was the H&K MP7A1. However, finding ammo for a MP7A1 can be a real pain in the ass as they fire a proprietary 4.6x30mm round that is not as common as the 9mm Parabellum.

Another “gift” from my NSA friend, the B&T MP9 has served me well. I like the Swiss single point sling that came with it. I still have five 30 round magazines that came with the gun. I wish I had this gun while I was still in the Israeli army. I could have used it in Lebanon.

OK so my ill gotten tools are still present. I close the Pelican case after putting everything back in its proper place. Instead of putting the TSA approved Pelican combination locks back on the outside; I toss the locks inside the case. No sense in locking the case now.

I do not really need a submachine gun right now and it would burn up all the 9mm ammo I have in a few seconds. I briefly consider converting my AR15 but decide that it can wait. I do not have any ammo for the AR15 anyway. Time to dig into my smaller Pelican 1500 case.

Shoving my large Pelican case to the side I retrieve my little 1500 Pelican from the floor. Unlocking the two TSA-approved combination locks I attempt to open the case after unlatching it. Huh! Oh I forgot to equalize the pressure. Pressing the pressure equalization button causes a brief hiss of air and the lid pops open.

I flip the lid open and see my ancient FN (Fabrique Nationale) made Browning Hi-Power 9mm pistol with its threaded barrel and registered AAC suppressor. Seeing my favorite pistol which is even older than the Beretta now riding in my waistband in the center of my back, makes me feel good. Beside my old pistol are my five FN empty magazines.

My old pistol has a lanyard ring on the bottom although I have never used a lanyard on my pistol. My pistol is an old British OSS pistol from World War II that was given to me by Aharon years ago when I still lived in Israel. I believe he got it from a retired Israeli policeman. Almost all the bluing has worn off the pistol but it still shoots perfectly and I have taken good care of it.

Next to the pistol magazines is my sheathed Glock field knife. Beside my knife is my pair of black leather-sheathed Cold Steel three-section steel spring expanding batons. When collapsed they are only nine inches long, but fully extend to twenty-three inches. Used by riot police, coiled springs batons lack the tendency to bounce off someone when you strike them unlike the solid metal bat-style batons. This delivers the full force of the blow. The coiled spring batons also have a tendency to wrap around the body during the strike, making it a more effective blunt force weapon.

Closing my small Pelican case, I shove it on the counter next to its larger cousin. I did not bother to relock the smaller case either. Leaning against the counter I survey the aluminum shelves behind me piled with boxes and unclaimed luggage. Hmmm, this area was for luggage that contained dangerous and possibly hazardous material. What else could be hiding here?