by Brent Towns
Kane felt the passage of bullets as they whipped past him. He fired at one shooter, missed, changed to another, fired, and dropped him. Then he switched back to the first one and killed him too.
Beside him, Thurston kept up a steady rate of fire, her target a big black-clad figure using a bullpup carbine. She saw one of the 5.56 caliber rounds from her 416 hit him in the chest. The man lurched under the impact and tried to steady himself. His body armor had taken the the full force. Thurston shifted her aim slightly and squeezed the trigger again. This time the big man’s head snapped back as the round punched into his face.
“Argh!” On the other side of her, Axe cried out and dropped to the hard ground. She tracked across to him, firing as she went. Crouching beside Axe, she shook him. “Speak to me, Axel.”
“Now you’re cross at me for getting shot?” he grated.
“How bad?” she asked, firing at a shooter behind an SUV.
“Body armor took it,” he replied. “I’ll live.”
He grunted and rolled over, picked up his weapon, and came up to one knee. “Where is that bastard?”
“Kane. Keep pressing forward,” Thurston shouted.
Another shooter down, and the attackers had had enough. They disappeared through the gate into the darkness. Although not complete, a certain quiet descended over the joint taskforce compound. Kane and Axe started to check the dead. Thurston said, “We need pictures. Get one of every shooter you find. I want to know who the hell they are. If you need me, I’ll be inside trying to save the rest of the team.”
Vale de Perigo, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil
Another RPG sailed low over the rooftop, missing its intended target—the fifth, or maybe the sixth. Shit, Cara had lost count. “Did you see where that one came from?” she called to Troy.
“Building opposite, second-floor window,” he called back. “Same one as last time. I can’t get a decent bead on the prick.”
“If I can get some air—” A storm of bullets cut her short, and Cara dropped behind cover. A stinging pain bit into her cheek, and she felt the warmth of blood trickle down her face. She tried again, ignoring the burn. “If I can get some air support, we’ll drop a damned Hellfire down his frigging throat.”
“Ronaldo, how are you doing down there?”
“We’re good. Holding our own.”
“Great. How’s your ammo?”
“Getting down.”
“Keep me updated.”
“RPG!”
It was the same asshole on Troy’s side. This time the grenade clipped the top of the parapet just above where he was taking cover. The impact made it ricochet upward and keep going.
“I’m sick of this,” Cara muttered. “Troy, I’m coming to you.”
Cara ran across the rooftop and slid into position beside the man. “You alright?”
“I’m kind of glad that son of a bitch can’t shoot for shit.”
“Me too,” she replied. “Get over and cover my area. I’ll see if I can bag this asshole for you.”
Troy retraced Cara’s steps across the rooftop while she brought up the CSASS and rested it on the concrete parapet. She tucked the weapon into her shoulder, dropped her eye to the night sight, and waited, watching the window with unerring patience. Her finger rested lightly on the trigger. Normally she would rest it on the guard until she was ready to fire, but she didn’t have the luxury of time. As soon as the tango with the RPG launcher appeared, she stroked the trigger.
The CSASS kicked, and its 7.62 round reached out like an airborne lance at 2,500 feet per second. Through the night sight, she saw the bullet strike and the man with the RPG launcher fall back from the open window.
“Have a nice day, motherfucker,” Cara hissed angrily.
“Reaper Two, this is Bravo One, over.”
About time. “Read you Lima Charlie, over.”
“We’ve solved our situation here, over.”
“Great, now you can work mine out.”
“What do you need, Reaper Two?”
“Bring the rain, Bravo One,” Cara replied and gave coordinates for two strikes. “Reaper Two to all call signs, keep your heads down. We have incoming ordnance.”
Moments later, the neighborhood was torn apart by two loud explosions as the Hellfires impacted their targets. Giant fireballs leaped skyward and showered debris on the street below. Close enough to feel the heat wash over her, Cara had curled into a ball and was waiting for the moment to pass.
She rose to a knee to survey the damage. Two buildings had been destroyed, and what was left was burning. The gunfire had ceased, but she wasn’t sure what it meant. “Brick, on me.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“While they’re working out what just happened, take one of Ronaldo’s guys and bring Keller in.”
“On it.”
“Oh, and if you happen to find one of the attackers still breathing, I’d like to talk to him.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Joint Taskforce Operations, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil
“All right, so where are we at?”
“I’m still getting a lot of heat signatures on the ground, ma’am,” Teller called. “It looks like the Hellfires worked and drove them back initially, but I think it is a short-term measure.”
“How many?”
“Anywhere up to a hundred tangos still in the area of operations.”
“Brooke, ordnance?”
“Still have two missiles left.”
Thurston looked at her watch. “It’ll be daylight soon. What is the response from the Brazilian government?”
“All we’re getting is crickets, Mary,” Ferrero said. “I’ve tried different avenues, but I’m getting nothing.”
“Isn’t that always the way?”
Kane stood and watched the general do her work. Even under the immense amount of pressure bearing down upon her, she remained cool and collected.
“Ma’am,” said Swift. “I’ve got an ID on one of the shooters who attacked the compound.”
“Show me.”
A picture appeared. The man was wearing a military uniform. “Michael Walters. Former British Commando. Served six years before being recruited by MI6. After that, he’s a ghost.”
“Seem to be a lot of them around lately,” Thurston breathed. “All right, Slick, keep digging.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Reaper Two, sitrep.”
“General, we’re a little banged up, but we’re still in the fight. We have one WIA and one KIA. Both have now been secured. We also have six MIA.”
Thurston paused momentarily. “Status on your wounded?”
“WIA is priority three. Over.”
“What about your transport?”
“Transport is screwed.”
“All right, Reaper Two. Hang in there. We’re trying to get you some help. Out.”
Thurston turned to Kane. “You and Axe get reprovisioned. Take whatever you need to break through. Extra ammo, grenade launchers—hell, if Cara has a damned tank hidden back there somewhere, take it too. Just get through to them and get them out.”
“What about the MIAs, ma’am?”
Thurston thought for a moment before turning to her UAV team. “Teller, how far have the tangos pulled back?”
“Outside the original defensive perimeter, ma’am.”
She nodded. “Reaper Two, copy?”
“I’m still here, Bravo.”
“According to ISR, your friends have pulled back beyond the originally planned perimeter. Send out a two-man patrol and see if you can find your missing. We’ll provide overwatch.”
“Roger that, Bravo. I’ll get right on it.”
“Understand this, Reaper Two. You’re in command. Do not go yourself.”
“Understood, ma’am. Reaper Two, out.”
“Was that necessary, General?” Kane asked.
Thurston stared at him. “What are you still doing here? I gave you an order. Move.”
“
Yes, ma’am.”
Rio de Janeiro, Brazil
Grayson wasn’t happy. The attack on the compound had been unsuccessful, and her team had let her down. Well, it wouldn’t happen again. Next time, and there would be a next time, she would send more of everything. She turned away from the hotel window and stared at Flint. “What about the ambush set up by Basilio Costa?”
“There is some kind of hiatus. They were on top of the situation, and then they were hit with missiles from a UAV, and it took the sting out of the attack.”
“Is there anything that Basilio needs? If we can keep him pressing the attack, we can still salvage something from the fire.”
“He is a proud man. I have asked, and he refuses anything which might leave him more beholden to you than he already is.”
“Maybe we should help him anyway. Spin up the AC-130. Let’s give him a little something on the house.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Redeploy some of our men. They can organize the ground forces. We’ll win this thing yet.”
Flint left the room, and Grayson walked toward the door at the other end of the suite she occupied. She stopped when she reached the sofa. Undoing the buttons on her black blouse, she removed it, revealing a white camisole beneath. She then took off her pants, leaving on her lacy black panties. It would be easier this way—less mess.
Grayson continued her journey toward the door and paused only momentarily to open it. The door swung wide to reveal a man, completely naked, tied to a chair in the center of the room. His face was a bloody mess, as were the stumps on his right hand where two of his fingers had been removed. The blood had dripped onto the clear plastic that covered the floor. Stuffed into the man’s mouth was a bloody gag.
“Did you miss me, Alfredo?” Grayson asked politely.
Alfredo Costa grunted, his nostrils flaring as he anticipated what was to happen next. “I believe we were talking about a little matter to do with the money you’ve hidden away. Your brother is paying me well to get rid of you, but a little more earned on the side… Well, let’s just say I would put it to good use.”
Alfredo grunted and snorted around the gag in his mouth. Grayson pouted playfully. “You have something to say, poor baby?” She removed the gag.
“Fucking prostitute. Kill me and get it over with.”
“Tell me about the money.”
He spat at her, and the globule landed between her milky white breasts and ran down her cleavage. Grayson shrugged. “Oh, well.”
She put the gag back into the cartel boss’ mouth and walked to the small table in the corner of the room, her bare feet making the plastic crinkle. On the surface of the table rested implements used for various forms of torture. Grayson let her hand hover above them before making her decision and picking up the scalpel. She held it in front of her eyes, which glinted wickedly like the razor-sharp blade in the false light. Her lips peeled back from her white teeth in a vicious smile. “Perfect.”
Grayson turned back to Alfredo and walked around so she was facing him. “Where should I start this time? Do you have a preference?”
The beads of sweat on his brow came instantly. She smiled at him. “Take it easy, love. I promise I’ll be gentle.” Her eyes wandered down his body to his groin. The chair seat was built to accommodate a commode, the hole vacant. His legs were tied to the chair legs on either side. Grayson stepped forward and traced a finger over the drug lord’s hairy chest. He strained at the ropes, his efforts forcing out animalistic grunts.
The hand sank until it reached his crotch. It paused to stroke his flaccid cock until it started to harden, rebelling against the terrified man’s wishes. Within moments it was fully engorged, which brought another smile to Grayson’s lips. “Wow, you were at the front of the line when they handed them out, weren’t you?”
Alfredo’s grunts and breathing grew swifter and his efforts more desperate. Grayson stopped stroking him and moved her hand lower until it cupped his balls. Again, the smile, this time mirthless, cold. She held the scalpel up for him to see. “You’ve had children, haven’t you?”
She lowered it, and with the first stroke, Alfredo’s eyes bulged, and he screamed into the gag.
The sun was up by the time Grayson had finished. She took a shower to wash off Costa’s blood, then walked naked into the main room of the suite. The muscles on her well-toned body rippled with every step. If she was surprised to see Flint there, she didn’t show it. She just said, “He told me where he has hidden two hundred and fifty million. I want you to take a team to retrieve it.”
Flint nodded. This wasn’t the first time he’d seen her naked, but the sight still did something to him. She noticed and walked over to the large plate-glass window she’d been standing at earlier.
His eyes followed her, watching her tight buttocks as they undulated with each step. The heart they formed was almost perfect.
Grayson placed her hands on the window, spread apart at shoulder height. “Come here, Ben.”
He swallowed and walked forward, then stood behind her and waited. She said, “Do it.”
Flint unbuckled his pants and let them fall to his ankles. He stepped closer, and Grayson adjusted her position to accept him. As he entered her, he thrust hard. Grayson threw her head back and moaned. By the time Flint was finished, his boss was screaming in ecstasy as all of the sexual tension from the torture of Alfredo Costa poured out of her.
Flint stepped back, his face bathed in sweat. He pulled up his pants and zipped them. Grayson turned to face him, her face as red and sweaty as his was. Her bangs were wet and matted to her forehead. She angrily said, “Get out.”
Chapter 13
Vale de Perigo, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil
Troy edged up to the end of the building and paused. Before he stuck his head around the corner, he listened. No point in sticking your head out if some bastard was going to put a bullet in it. Behind him was Traynor. Both had been tasked with finding their MIAs. So far, they were out of luck, but according to the directions they’d been given, around the corner would be one of the SUVs used by the BOPE operators. He glanced at Traynor, who was looking the other way, watching for threats in that direction.
Troy eased his head around the corner of the building, trying not to expose himself too much, and saw the SUV. It was a burned, blackened ruin. Beside it were three bodies that had been stripped bare, their skin stark white in the morning sun.
Troy drew back and looked at Traynor. “Looks like we’ve found three of them.”
Traynor moved around him and looked for himself. “Shit.”
He eased around the corner while Troy took up rear security. They stepped onto the street, and already they could smell the fumes from the SUV.
They checked the corpses to make sure, not that there was any doubt. “Reaper Two, this is Traynor. We’ve located three of our guys. They’re all deceased, over.”
“Roger that. Circle back to the east and then come in, over.”
“Copy.”
“Wait,” Troy said. “Hear that?”
“What?” Traynor asked.
It was a low droning sound, far off but getting closer. “It’s a plane.”
Traynor nodded. “Big plane.”
With a loud roar, the winged beast appeared low overhead. “Good grief!” Troy exploded.
“We’ve got to get back.”
“Reaper Two, get off the rooftop,” Troy almost shouted into his comms as he started to run. “Get off now!”
Cara looked up as the gunship was making its approach. Then her comms lit up, and a cold hand gripped her heart. “Fuck me. Brick, get off the rooftop! Now!”
She started running for the stairwell, Brick followed close behind her. In the sky, the gunship had already started its banking turn. Then it opened fire.
The impact of the first round and the resulting explosion rocked the building, throwing Cara and Brick against the wall in the stairwell. She cried out as pain shot through her left shoulder. Dust raine
d down, but they gathered themselves and kept going.
“They can’t have hit it,” Brick shouted. “Or we’d be dead about now.”
At the foot of the stairs, they were met by Ronaldo. “We’ve got to go,” Cara gasped, not slowing down.
She burst out into the dust-shrouded sunshine with Brick, Ronaldo, and the remaining two BOPE men following her. The roar of the plane filled their ears, and the world was torn apart as a round from the 105mm main armament inside the AC-130’s guts smashed into the target house.
The explosion knocked them all flat on the street. Cara winced as a large piece of masonry hit her in the middle of the back, her body armor taking the full force of the blow. She cried out in pain, twisting as she tried to escape it. Brick crawled to her. “Are you all right, ma’am?”
“Just get me under cover,” she growled.
“Hang on.”
Instead of carrying her, he grabbed the strap on her webbing and dragged her unceremoniously across the street and behind a battered old vehicle.
“Where does it hurt, ma’am?”
“My back.”
Brick rolled Cara over while Ronaldo and his men kept watch. The AC-130 fired at the target building again, this time obliterating it.
Brick dropped flat over Cara, who cried out as his weight crashed down on top of her. “You trying to kill me too?” she moaned.
“Sorry, ma’am. Old habits.”
He managed to loosen her body armor and lift her garments. The bruise on her back was already distinguishable. He pressed around it, eliciting a hiss of pain. “I think you’ll be all right, ma’am, but you’ll have one hell of a bruise.”
“Reaper Two, sitrep, over?”
“Not now, Bravo.”
“Say again, Reaper Two.”
The gunship fired again, and a house across the street exploded.
“Ma’am, we’ve got a damned Specter on-station, and it’s blowing the crap out of everything. If you can’t help, leave me alone until I can get us out of the damned fix you got us into. Out.”