Bishop angled toward the vehicles at the front gate, raising the bus-sized bucket to deflect any gunfire.
***
Pershing reloaded the grenade launcher and fired a volley of grenades at the loader. Four of the rounds detonated harmlessly in the immense bucket. The fifth hit a tire, with zero effect. “More rockets!” he yelled.
“All out.” Shrek surveyed the scene of destruction and looked back at his five men. He gave them a signal and they started loading gear into the trucks. “George, we need to haul ass.”
He knew Shrek was right. Even with rockets, this fight was a lost cause. Without the local guard force, his small team couldn’t secure the mine. He spat in the dust. “Let’s go.”
As he turned and hurried to his vehicle, the loader’s bucket lowered and he spotted the driver at the controls of the monster. They locked eyes and the man he knew as Objective Yankee extended his middle finger. “Son-of-a-bitch, I buried you!” he exclaimed.
He watched in disbelief as the tractor crushed another building. A high-velocity round cracked through the air, snapping him into action. Wrenching open the door of his SUV, he jumped in the driver’s seat. Shrek and his team had already loaded, and tore off down the mountain road. He glanced in the rear vision mirror and clenched his teeth as the huge loader continued to rumble toward him. Spinning the wheels, he accelerated after the others.
***
Out the corner of his eye, Bishop saw Mirza run to the side of the cabin. The PRIMAL sniper balanced his HK on the handrail and gestured for Bishop to drop the bucket further. As it lowered Mirza fired another series of rapid shots at the three fleeing SUVs. Bullets glanced off the rearmost vehicle’s armored glass as it sped down the mountain road. “Mirza, RPG.”
“Way ahead of you, Bish.”
He glanced to the opposite side. Emilio had the rocket launcher shouldered and fired at the last SUV.
The rocket left the tube with a boom and hit the Chevy’s back window. The HEAT warhead failed to detonate and glanced off the laminated bulletproof glass.
Focused on the contractors, Bishop missed seeing the Black Jacket who ran across and jumped onto the loader’s side ladder.
The cockpit shook as Emilio reloaded and launched another RPG at the fleeing vehicles. The rocket flew a few hundred feet, hit the road and exploded. The convoy rounded a corner and disappeared.
“Let’s make sure they’ve got nothing to come back for,” Bishop said as he toggled the joystick and swung the tractor toward the refinery and smelting works. Black smoke hung over the structures from the fuel dump that was still burning.
Out the corner of his eye he spotted a hand reach up from the side ladder and grab Emilio’s leg. The rancher lost his balance and fell, striking his head on the rail. He lay still as a black-jacketed Mexican climbed onto the platform.
Bishop recognized him. It was the cartel lieutenant called Burro. He wore aviator sunglasses and had a wicked scab on his cheek. Bishop snatched his pistol from his holster and fired it. In the confines of the cabin the noise was deafening. The bullet struck the safety Perspex on an angle, ricocheted, and smashed into a control panel.
Burro smirked as he drew his own pistol. Bishop leapt from the chair and shoulder charged the door. It sprung open, hitting the would-be assassin. The gunman fired as he stumbled backward. The bullet punched through the door. A splinter of plastic lodged in Bishop’s hand and he dropped his Beretta. With his other hand he grabbed Burro by his vest. A sharp pull smashed the young Mexican’s face into the doorframe. He cried out and stumbled backward, aviator sunglasses knocked off his face. Bishop stepped over the dazed Emilio and kicked the pistol from his attacker’s hand.
The cartel lieutenant’s face switched to a mask of hatred as he recognized Bishop. “The Yankee, you’re supposed to be dead.”
Bishop smiled. “And you’re about to be. Funny that.”
Burro pulled a knife from his vest. “Fuck you, gringo.”
The loader shuddered and Bishop almost lost his balance as a wheel dropped off the side of the track. They were heading for a huge ore crushing structure.
Burro leapt at Bishop, slashing with his knife.
He slipped the blow and struck Burro in the face, sending him reeling back.
The tractor started turning back to the road and Bishop glanced at the cockpit. Mirza had climbed in through the door on the other side and was at the controls.
Burro attacked again, this time stabbing wildly. Bishop sidestepped and backpedaled as his assailant pressed home the attack, stabbing and slashing.
He countered with a series of blows. Burro blocked the attacks, smiling as he danced from foot to foot.
A shot rang out and the smile dropped from the cartel lieutenant’s face as he clutched his side. The knife dropped to the deck.
Bishop pulled the wounded man close by the lapels of his jacket and heaved him onto the railing that ran around the back of the earthmover.
Burro’s eyes went wide as he toppled backward. He screamed as he bounced against the huge tire, then disappeared from sight. Two seconds later a bloody smear appeared on the tire as the wheel turned.
He looked back. Emilio was clutching the cartel lieutenant’s pistol. “That’s for my son.” The old rancher staggered, on the verge of collapse.
Bishop reached out and steadied him.
“Bish, when you get a second, it would be great if you could show me how to turn this thing off,” yelled Mirza from the cabin.
“Turn it off? No way, I’m just getting started.”
***
A half hour later, Bishop brought the gargantuan front end loader to a halt, reached across, and hit the kill switch. He lowered the bucket and dumped the remains of the mine’s gold storage vault onto the track. Then he climbed out of the cab and down the ladder to the ground.
“’Bout time you finished, you’ve been having way too much fun with that thing,” Mitch said. He was leaning against the only transportable building that had not been flattened. Bishop shot him a broad smile. “You finished your environmental assessment yet?”
“My main concern is the cyanide tailings. I’ve locked the holding dam off, but if it’s not removed in the next six months or so, it’s going to leak into the water supply.”
Bishop pointed to the pile of rubble in the bucket. It glinted as the midday sun hit it. “There’s a shit-ton of gold in there. Roberto should be able to afford a clean up crew.”
“Bloody hell.” Mitch walked over to inspect the load. Even unrefined, the gold bullion bricks were an impressive sight.
“Keep your grubby paws off it,” Bishop said as he walked over to the office. He stuck his head in through the open door. “How are our patients?”
Mirza was inside treating Emilio and Roberto’s injuries. He had them sitting on office chairs. Emilio had a bandage over his right eye with a cold pack pressed to it. Roberto had a bag of fluid running from a hat stand into his arm. “They’re going to be fine. By the way, I found something of yours.” He nodded at the desk. Next to Pershing’s laptop was a battered New York Yankees baseball cap.
“No shit.” He stepped into the room and retrieved the hat.
“Thought that might make your day.”
Bishop grinned and put it on. “Almost makes up for missing George Henry Pershing.”
Roberto shook his head. “No, you showed him. He won’t be back.”
“You know what, mate, we couldn’t have done this without you. Your team did well.” His voice lowered. “I’m sorry we lost so many.” Gerardo’s body was outside in the bed of Emilio’s truck. He would be buried on his farm alongside his ancestors.
“Better to die on your feet than live on your knees, Aden.”
He took a card from his wallet and handed it to Roberto. It had a phone number and a non-descript email address on it. “I want you to let me know if the Black Jackets, or Pershing, or anyone else tries to put you on your knees again.”
The battered and bruised r
ancher nodded and took the card.
There was a honk outside and Bishop stepped out to see a pickup pull up with Miguel at the wheel. “I think your backup has arrived.”
There were five men in the bed of the truck. Farmers armed with shotguns and rifles. Down the road was a line of more trucks. Miguel had done well. After helping Mitch launch the aircraft he had gone to the town to rally support.
He watched as Emilio took the surviving brother aside and told him of Gerardo’s death. His heart lurched as the man dropped to his knees and wept. Emilio wrapped an arm around his shoulders and held him.
A honk of a car horn sounded and he turned to see two silver BMW X5s driving up the road. The luxury SUVs passed the procession of farmers in their pickups and pulled up alongside the office. Heavily armed men spilled out and formed a loose perimeter.
Mitch gripped his machine gun and eyed them suspiciously.
Bishop approached as a short man in a grey suit stepped out. “Mr. Ramirez, I didn’t think you were going to come.”
The Sinaloa kingpin’s bushy moustache lifted as he gave a broad smile. “How could I not? Your message was so intriguing.” He marveled at the sheer scale of the destruction that had been wrought on the mine. Almost every building had been flattened and black smoke still billowed from the fuel dump. “You certainly have been busy.”
Bishop nodded. “All in a day’s work.” As he stepped forward, one of the men made to stop him.
Ramirez pushed past his bodyguards. “You know, you killed Cardenas, the head of the Chaquetas Negras Cartel.”
“Yeah, his boys found themselves a bit outgunned.”
Ramirez’s eyes narrowed. “Who are you people? You come down here and destroy the Chaquetas. You blow up their drug warehouse, you burn their mine to the ground.”
“I guess you might call us justice. We’re leaving these people under your protection, Ramirez. The gold from this mine belongs to them. The land belongs to them. Families will be compensated, lives rebuilt, and the miners won’t be allowed back. That clear?”
The Sinaloa boss nodded. “It will be as you say. You have my word.”
“Good, because we’ll be watching, and if I have to come back, I’ll bring more than just two of my buddies.”
Bishop turned and walked to the Ford Bronco. Mitch had already packed the last of their gear from the safe house.
“I could really use men like you,” yelled Ramirez. “Together we could shut down the Juarez cartel. You would make a lot of money.”
“Just keep your word, and pray you don’t see us again.” He climbed into the truck and waited for Mitch and Mirza to join him. He started the engine and they drove up the road and out the gate.
“Why do I get the feeling this isn’t over?” said Mitch as they headed down the winding mountain road.
“Because it isn’t. We still need to find Pershing and shut down GE for good. We’ll cache the gear in the desert and head back to El Paso. I’m thinking a steak at a restaurant, and a soft bed in a hotel. We can do our full debriefing with the Bunker tomorrow.”
“So you’ve already back-briefed them on what happened at the mine?” Mirza asked.
“Ummm. I just let them know we don’t need the CAT anymore.”
"You didn't tell them about our plan did you?” said Mirza.
“Well, not exactly. I mean, they knew we were going to do a recce. I just didn’t…”
Mitch shook his head. “You’re out of control.”
“Hey, it was a good plan. We played the cards we were dealt and it worked out for the best.”
“Yeah, well now I’m pretty keen to play my hand with that bell-end, Pershing,” said Mitch.
“Me too,” added Mirza.
“That makes three of us.”
CHAPTER 36
EL PASO, TEXAS
Christina placed her few belongings into a plastic bag, and walked out of the hospital. It was late afternoon and she had spent the better part of the day waiting for the doctors to approve her release. Finally, a handsome young resident had handed her a box of antibiotics and signed the necessary document. It was not until she looked at the box on her way out that she realized he’d scribbled his phone number on it.
She squinted as she stepped out into the sunshine.
“Where do you think you’re going, miss?”
There he was, leaning against a signpost with his battered Yankees cap pulled low. “Aden!” She blushed as she realized how excited she sounded.
“There’s a diner around the corner. You mind if I buy you a coffee?”
She hugged him. “Sure thing.”
“What was the last thing you remembered?” he asked as they walked.
“You saving my life. I’ve got a faint memory of another man being there. Dark, angular features, some kind of doctor.”
He chuckled. “A doctor, he’ll like that.”
“So who was he?”
“A friend from work.”
“From the UN?”
They arrived at the diner and sat at the only curbside table.
“Yeah. I told him where we were going and when I missed a check-in he got in contact with Emilio.”
“OK. And Roberto?” she asked hesitantly.
Aden took off his hat and rubbed at his temples. She noticed the flecks of grey and the bags under his eyes.
“We rescued him yesterday. He sends his regards. Wanted me to tell you that you’re welcome to visit when things settle down.”
“What, how?” Relief washed over her face.
A waitress interrupted them and he ordered a burger and a shake. Christina ordered a coffee.
When the waitress was gone she leaned across the table. “How did you save him?”
“With the help of some friends.” Bishop reached into the pocket of his jacket and tossed something on the table. It landed with a thud.
Christina did not believe her eyes. It was a solid lump of gold the length of her thumb. “Where did you get this?”
“The mine’s back in the hands of the rightful owners.”
“You mean you kicked out RED and the cartel?”
He winked. “Well, I’d like to take all the credit but the truth is Emilio and his guys did the heavy lifting.” He filled her in on some of the details until their order arrived. Christina sipped her latte as she watched Bishop wolf into his burger.
“You haven’t told me the whole story, have you?”.
He neglected his food for a moment to pass her a memory stick. “I took the liberty of including photos and a few emails on here. You might find them interesting.” He used a napkin to wipe ketchup from his chin. “The only caveat is you can’t release the story till I give you the OK. The guys behind the mine are serious players and I’m not done with them yet. Which brings me to another point.” He took out his wallet, extracted a credit card, and handed it over. “This card has thirty grand on it, a black account in the Cayman Islands. The pin number is your birth date.” He took a long slurp from his shake. “I need you to disappear till we wrap this up. You got anyone you can stay with?”
Christina was expecting something like this. “Yeah, I’ve got friend in South Africa. She’s a photographer with a wildlife film company.”
“OK, good. I’ve arranged for a passport to be sent to a safe deposit box at LAX.” He handed her a slip of paper. “Here are the details. My email’s there also if you need to contact me.”
She took it and gave a knowing smile. “Forgot your UN business cards again?”
“Yeah.”
“Am I going to see you again?”
“Of course. I love Africa; I’ll come visit you when this is all done.”
She smiled. “You should bring Saneh.”
He looked away and she regretted the comment. “Hey, I’m sorry.”
“It’s OK, I’m good.” He waved for the bill. “Want to share a cab to the airport?”
“I haven’t booked a flight.”
He glanced at his watch. “If
you want it, there’s a business class seat booked in your name on the seventeen hundred to LAX.”
She laughed. “You think of everything.”
“I try.” He paused. “Hey, Christina, when you write this, I’d really appreciate if you don’t mention me, or any of my friends. We’ll lose our jobs if we’re implicated. Not to mention the fact we’ve made ourselves some powerful enemies.”
“I can do better than that. I’ll send you a draft before it goes to print. But, you have to promise to come to Africa.”
He reached out and shook her hand. “It’s a deal.”
She held his hand and smiled. “Thank you so much for everything you’ve done..For saving my life, and for helping Roberto.”
He looked down at the remains of his burger and mumbled, “Any man would have done the same.”
“I’m not sure if she knows it, but Saneh is a very lucky woman.”
Bishop ignored the comment. “You ready to go?”
***
Less than two miles from Bishop and Christina, Terrance Howard knocked back his fifth can of energy drink for the day. All morning he’d been unable to reach Pershing, he had no UAV support, and the caffeine coursing through his body wasn’t helping his anxiety.
“Terry, I’ve got a satellite image!” yelled Ben.
“Get it up on the big screen.”
It took the analyst a few seconds to transfer the high-resolution shot. When it appeared on the main screen Howard nearly had a heart attack. The mine’s accommodation and administrative buildings appeared to be flattened. The entire facility was destroyed. The mining infrastructure was on fire with thick black smoke trailing into the desert.
“Whoa, that’s not good,” said Ben.
“No shit!” He grabbed the phone on his desk and dialed Pershing, for the sixth time.
It rang once before being answered. “What?”
PRIMAL Reckoning (Book 1 in the Redemption Trilogy, the PRIMAL Series Book 5) Page 28