by Brent Towns
Thurston nodded. “That’s fine. Take a satellite phone with you just in case you need it.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She checked out their attire. “You might want to change before we land. I’ll see if they can spare a man to go with you, act as a guide.”
“Ahh shit!” Axe cursed from behind the stack of gear.
The three of them glanced at him. He looked up, an anguished expression on his face. He saw them staring at him. “What?”
They remained silent.
“I forgot my fucking I-Pod, OK? Got a bitching eight-hour flight and nothing to listen to,” he growled.
Thurston said, “I’m sure you can find something to play with.”
Kane tried to suppress a smirk as Axe looked confused until it dawned on him what she was getting at. He gave her a broad smile. “You’re good. I like you.”
“I don’t like you,” Thurston said and turned away with a smile on her own face.
Cara and Kane both chuckled at the expression on Axe’s face. He glanced at them. “She didn’t mean that, did she?”
Kane shrugged.
“No, she didn’t mean that. Cara, did she?”
Cara gave the ex-marine sniper a sorrowful look. “Don’t worry, Axe, I still love you.”
“Fuck off the pair of you,” he growled. He started to follow Thurston. “Ma’am, did you mean that?”
Ferrero shook his head.
Kane said, “That was funny. It would seem the general has a sense of humor.”
Ferrero nodded. “She seems nice from what I can tell since we’ve been working closely together.”
“Are you OK with how it’s all changed?”
“Yeah. I think it’s for the better. Anyway, too late now, let’s get this all finished. We’ve got a plane to catch.”
Moosehead Lake
Maine
The white Tahoe crunched to a stop on the gravel turnaround, and the two Reaper Team men climbed out. Arenas looked around. The building before him was built like an old fifties style hunting lodge and was surrounded by tall pines. It was sited in a secluded cove where the lake was fringed with a rocky shore.
In reality, it was a retreat for the terminally ill. And it was where Kane had hidden his sister when Irish mob boss Colin O’Brien became an all too real threat.
An older man in his fifties exited the building and approached them. He stopped in front of Pete Traynor. The bulges where their personal weapons were tucked inside shoulder holsters under their coats hadn’t been missed. He eyed them warily and said, “I’m David Harper. I’m in charge here. You are?”
Traynor said, “I’m Pete Traynor, and my friend is Carlos Arenas. John Kane sent us.”
Recognition showed in the man’s eyes. He held out his right hand for Traynor to shake. “Pleased to meet you both. It would have been better under different circumstances, but that’s the way it goes sometimes. My friends call me Doc.”
He shook with Arenas and said, “Come with me, and I’ll show you where you’ll be sleeping.”
“One minute, Doc. We just need to get our gear.”
Harper nodded. “Sure.”
Both men went to the back of the Tahoe and retrieved their large duffels. Then they dragged their tactical vests free. Harper had seen such equipment before, but the concern on his face was still evident.
They started to follow him towards the main door when Arenas said, “Maybe, Doc, you have another way for us to go?” He held up the vest. “We would not want to worry the patients.”
There was a hint of relief on Harper’s face. “Yes, quite. Follow me this way.”
He deviated to the left, and they circled the large building until coming to the back entrance. They were about to enter when Traynor pointed to a small cabin probably fifty yards from the main building. “What’s that there?”
Harper shrugged. “It is nothing. Just an old shack that doesn’t get used.”
“Good. It’ll do us just fine.”
“But …”
“Don’t worry, Doc. We’re better off out of the way.”
Harper shrugged. “If that’s the way you want it. I’ll just get a key for the lock.”
They watched him walk inside and then, Arenas said, “It is a hard place to defend with just the two of us. We have been here five minutes, and I have already counted four different ways of infiltration. I think we can discount the lake, though. We could see them coming from a long way if they chose such a route.”
“So, which one is the most likely then?” Traynor asked.
“If I was them, I would use two points. The road in and the trees to the north,” Arenas explained. “They will need to get out fast, so I would park back along the road and wait for an all clear. The snatch team would circle around and come in through the trees to the north. Once the packages were secure, they’d just have to radio the extraction vehicle.”
“That’s what you would do?”
Arenas nodded. “Yes. But unfortunately, they are not me.”
“Once we get unpacked, we can set up some cameras. Maybe do some roving patrols through the night. The main objective is not to get surprised by the bastards.”
“Here’s the key,” Harper said when he emerged from the doorway.
Traynor took it and said, “We’ll take it from here, Doc. You go see to your patients.”
“Are you the guys my mom sent?”
They turned to face the doorway and saw Jimmy Billings standing there.
Harper started to protest the boy’s presence, but Traynor cut him off. “He’s fine, Doc. Maybe he can give us a hand. Take his mind off things.”
Harper shrugged. “Sure. Dinner is at six.”
“We’ll be there.”
After Harper had disappeared, Traynor looked at Jimmy and said, “Well, you want to help or not?”
Jimmy stared at the big, unshaven ex-DEA agent with all the tattoos, and hesitated. Then he said, “Why not?”
Jimmy was no older than fourteen with a boyish face and dark hair like his mother’s. Traynor tossed him his tactical vest and said, “Good, carry that.”
Arenas could see the boy’s chest swell at being asked to carry the loaded vest. It was heavy, but he caught it with ease. They began walking toward the shack. Traynor asked, “What’s the food like here?”
“It’s OK, I guess.”
“Do they take care of you?” Arenas inquired.
“Sure. The doc is great.”
They reached their destination and Traynor unlocked the door. It swung open, and the scent of dust and damp reached their nostrils. Once inside, Arenas screwed up his nose. “I think maybe inside would have been better, amigo.”
There was clutter everywhere, and the windows had so much grime they were almost opaque.
Traynor picked up an old broom which looked as though it had been savaged by a bear. He examined it and said, “It just needs a clean.”
Passing it to Jimmy, he said, “There you go, kid. Make a start.”
Outside Esmeraldas
Ecuador
The HC-130 touched down shortly after 1400 hours on a long, but pot-holed dirt airstrip which would undoubtedly be very dangerous to use in heavy weather. The plane came to a stop, and the ramp at the rear lowered with a whir.
Beside the strip, waiting in the intense humidity, were three CIA agents with a truck and a battered Ford pickup. Their names were White, Brown, and Black. Obviously not their real names, but they weren’t forthcoming with those.
The plane was unloaded, and all of the equipment put into the back of the tarp-covered truck. Ferrero approached Kane and said to him, “Thurston just asked our friend Black about giving you and Cara a guide to go to the port. Brown’s going to take you in the pickup.”
Kane looked at the battered vehicle. “OK. When are we leaving?”
“Now,” said Brown.
Brown was big and athletic with a trimmed beard. If he’d had to guess, Kane would have pegged him as a SEAL in a
previous life. Or maybe Delta.
Kane and Cara had changed their clothes on the plane. They both now wore jeans. Kane had on a green t-shirt, and Cara wore a form-hugging white singlet top which accentuated her curves. Sunglasses shaded their eyes, and both had their personal sidearms tucked into the backs of their pants.
“We’re ready when you are,” Kane said.
“All right then, load up. Let’s go and have a look at this ship of yours.”
Esmeraldas
It took them an hour to get to the port. An hour of bumping and bouncing in a truck with shot suspension, over pot-holed streets which were in desperate need of repair. Kane sat on the outside while Cara was in the middle. Brown grated and ground the gears with monotonous frequency as they drove along.
“Sorry about the roads,” he apologized. “They might see a repair crew once a year. With all of the trucks going back and forth to the port they don’t last long.”
When they reached the port, Brown pulled the truck over next to a large stack of shipping containers. “That’s your target, down there. The other side of the wire.”
Roughly a hundred yards ahead of them was a large fence split by twin gates. On the other side was a large container ship.
“Here,” Brown said and passed Kane a pair of field glasses.
Kane put them to his eyes and looked at the stern of the ship. Painted in big white letters were the words: Sea Fortune.
He let his gaze wander over the ship. The bridge was roughly three stories above the main deck at the stern. It had two cranes on deck as well, to handle its own cargo. The ship looked to be half-loaded on deck, and the dock workers were still busy loading it.
Then he noticed the armed guards. They were acting as security just inside the gates. There was another at the gangplank, and two more on the wings of the bridge.
Kane passed the glasses to Cara and said, “That’s a lot of security. I will assume that there are more there somewhere.”
Cara said, “Five times three. That’s what I figure anyway.”
“Very good,” Brown acknowledged. “Five guards on duty at any one time. Three shifts.”
“I don’t like it,” Kane said. “They want us to get on board that thing and hide out until we reach international waters. Then take the damned thing over. I say we plant explosives in the hold and blow it. Take out all their guards and do it that way.”
“Glad it’s you and not me,” Brown said.
“What do you think, Cara?” Kane asked her.
“I can set up on top of these containers with the SASS and provide overwatch. From here, Spencer and I can provide backup. You and Axe go in over the bow. Do your business and get the hell out of Dodge.”
“I suppose the CIA hasn’t got a UAV up their sleeve by any chance, Mr. Brown?” Kane asked their tour guide.
He chuckled. “Not a chance. Best we could do is maybe a satellite.”
Kane nodded. “A satellite I’ll take.”
Brown was about to suggest they leave when a four by four appeared, the words: Policia stenciled on the side.
“This looks interesting,” Kane said in a low voice.
“The Policía Nacional del Ecuador,” Brown told them. “The most crooked sons of bitches around at the moment. If you get caught by them, you’ll be in a whole world of hurt.”
They watched on in silence and saw the guards open the gates without hesitation. The vehicle passed through and then stopped near the gangplank.
Two men climbed out dressed in gray uniforms with gray caps. They met a man from the ship at the gangplank’s base, and the three talked briefly before the man from the ship handed over an envelope.
“Looks like they’re picking up a payment,” Cara said.
“Let’s get out of here,” Kane said. “Before we draw any attention to ourselves.”
CIA SafeHouse
Esmeraldas
Thurston stared at Kane and Cara thoughtfully before she spoke. “Are you sure it’s the only way, Reaper?”
Kane nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Tell me about it again.”
Kane looked at the whiteboard on the wall. He pointed at it, “May I?”
“By all means.”
He walked over to it and marked out different areas of the docks. Putting a cross on it, he said, “The ship is here. Gates are here, containers here. Now, they’ve got lookouts at the gates, the gangplank, on the bridge wings. The only way aboard is over the bow. Then we have to find a place to hide. The easy way is to take them all down. Have Cara and Spencer here with Cara on overwatch. If we get into trouble, they’ll be backup. They have fifteen armed men on the Sea Fortune. I say we get on, plant the explosives and blow the son of a bitch up.”
“What about the local police?” Ferrero asked. “You go making a lot of noise, and they’ll come down on you like a ton of bricks.”
“We’ll have to deal with that if it happens.”
Thurston’s face grew serious. “I won’t have you lot shooting local police. Even if they are crooked. Understand?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Kane acknowledged. “Brown also said he can get us access to a satellite to watch over us.”
“That would be handy,” Ferrero said. “That way if the police dispatch officers we could keep track of them and any other responders.”
Thurston shifted her gaze to Ferrero. “What do you think, Luis?”
“I trust Reaper’s judgment, Mary. But ultimately it’s your call.”
Thurston nodded. “OK, we’ll do it your way. When will you go?”
“Tomorrow night.”
“Fine. But do me one favor, Mr. Kane. Bring me back a canary. Preferably one that will sing. We have no idea who’s behind this thing down here.”
Chapter 6
Port of Esmeraldas
“Reaper Two, Bravo Three is online, and the picture is clear, over,” Teller’s voice came through the comms loud and clear.
“Copy, Bravo Three. Reaper Two and Five are in position,” Cara responded in a soft voice. “How’s it look? Over.”
“So far so good, Reaper Two. The sentries all look to be where they’re supposed to be. Bravo Four is monitoring all radio frequencies, so we don’t get any nasty little surprises.”
“Copy, Bravo Three. Reaper Two out.”
Beside Cara lay Spencer. He was armed with an HK 416, dressed in full tactical gear, complete with night vision, though it wasn’t down because of the bright lights used to flood the ship. “We should be seeing Kane and Axe soon,” he whispered.
Cara shifted the SASS and focused her scope on the bow. Even though the ship was stern on, she could still see some of the hawsers. “Nothing yet.”
She swept back to her left along the ship. The sentries were still in place.
Suddenly Cara’s comms crackled to life. “Reaper One and Reaper Four are on station. Preparing to board.”
“Copy, Reaper One. Reaper Two and Five in an overwatch position. Out.”
Cara focused her scope back on the front hawsers and saw Kane start to make his way along it towards the bow. Behind him was Axe. The latter carried the explosives in a waterproof bag. Both were armed with suppressed MP-7s.
The M110 moved back in a long sweep as Cara checked on the sentries once again. All seemed good. None of them had moved.
With her focus now back at the bow, she watched Kane and Axe climb aboard and disappear from her line of sight.
“Reaper Two? Reaper One. We’re both aboard and making for the hold. Over.”
“Copy, Reaper One. All clear to move. Tangos still stationary. Good luck. Out.”
The Sea Fortune
Kane brought the suppressed MP7 up to his shoulder and raised his right hand to signal Axe to move. They walked in a crouch along the row of deck containers, their black wetsuits glistening with sea water. When they came across a gap, they slipped into it, using the double stack of twenty-foot boxes for cover.
They kept moving until they ran out of cover and t
hen paused. There was an open area of around thirty-feet. All flat deck. At the far end was a door which would lead them below decks and down into the hold. The only problem was that they would be in full view of the sentries on the bridge wings.
Reaper depressed his talk button. “Reaper Two, keep an eye on the bridge sentries. If they move funny, take them down. Over.”
“Copy, Reaper One.”
Kane waited for what seemed like an age before both of the sentries weren’t looking their way. Kane and Axe ran forward until they reached the door, paused, and then Kane opened it.
All clear.
The next five minutes were spent traversing passageways, ladders, and hatches until they reached the hold.
“What color box do we want, Reaper?” Axe whispered.
“Red. Glad to see you listened at the briefing, Axe.”
Axe smiled. “Didn’t need to. You were coming.”
Kane shook his head.
Within one minute of searching, they’d found the container. “Over here, Reaper.”
Kane abandoned his search to join Axe who stood before their target.
Axe said, “You get the feeling that this was too easy, Reaper?”
“You too?”
“We saw no one on the way down here. Kinda like the way was cleared for us.”
“Let’s get this open, and we’ll have a look.”
Axe and Kane worked the handles, and one of the doors swung open with a dry groan.
“What the fuck,” Axe said with disbelief.
“Reaper One? Zero. What do you have? Over.”
“We have nothing, Zero. I repeat, nothing. The container is empty.”
CIA Safehouse
Ferrero snapped a look at Thurston. “What the hell is going on?”
She was as concerned about it as him. “I don’t know. The intel said it was there.”
“Fuck!” Ferrero cursed. “Bravo One this is Zero. Confirm your last transmission, over.”