Jesus Christ,” said Morgan as they retreated back into the hallway and he looked up at the pockmarked wall just above their heads. “Flechettes.”
The word was French for tiny arrows, and that’s exactly how they had gotten their name. They were fin-stabilized steel projectiles that looked just like little arrows, which could be fired from a twelve-gauge shotgun, significantly increasing the weapon’s lethality.
Herrington looked at the wall and said, “Even so, watch your language in here.”
Cates asked, “Am I the only one who finds it ironic that we’re in a Christian church duking it out with Muslim terrorists?”
“So far they’re the only ones doing the duking,” replied Harvath. “Now here’s the plan. Bob, Tracy, and I are going in on my command. Cates and Morgan, you’re going to provide cover fire. Everybody ready?”
The team nodded its assent, Harvath readied his weapon and said, “Now!”
Rick Cates kicked open what was left of the door leading into the sanctuary, and he and Morgan laid down a vicious curtain of cover fire.
Crouching low and moving as fast as they could, Harvath, Herrington, and Hastings raced for the nearest row of pews. They went as far as they could until the men at the end of the church began returning fire, and then they hit the deck.
Harvath pulled the fire evacuation map from his vest and tried to get a fix on where their opponents were. As best he could tell, they were within spitting distance of an exit at the north end of the transept. But why weren’t they using it?
Grabbing his police radio, Harvath tried to raise McGahan. With the roar of the gunfire filling the cavernous church, it took a moment before he could hear anything over the radio. Finally, he could make out McGahan’s voice. “Are your men in place yet?”
“Affirmative,” replied McGahan. “I’ve got one on Fifty-first who almost got his ass shot off, but he just pushed the targets back inside.”
That explained it. And it also gave Harvath an idea.
If he could get McGahan’s men on the north and south ends of the transept, they could execute a classic pincer movement. Confident for the first time that they might have the terrorists all but in the bag, he radioed his plans to McGahan and then used his Motorola to radio Cates and fill him in.
Crouching near Herrington and Hastings, Harvath prepped them on the plan. As they nodded their heads, he then radioed McGahan and told him to get ready.
Harvath glanced at his Suunto, counted down thirty seconds, and then over both radios gave the command, “Go, go, go!”
Right on cue, Cates and Morgan laid down as much cover fire as they could muster. As they did, the terrorists returned fire and retreated into the back of the nave. Harvath didn’t need to look at his evacuation plan to know they had them trapped. There was no way out.