Burning Bridges

by Heath Stallcup

  “Private charter?” Bridger offered. “Maybe they drove and had this stowed somewhere.”

  Gregg gently lifted the lid until he could verify no wires then flipped the lid over. “Empty.” He repeated the procedure for the second Pelican case. “Nada.” He stood and shook his head. “This is a bust.”

  Bridger scratched at his chin then reached for the Pelican case closest to him. He grabbed the dark grey foam insert and pulled it out. Four passports and ID’s slid to the bottom of the case. “There ya go.” He nodded to Gregg who ripped the foam insert from the other case. Small stacks of money fell to the carpet.

  “So, seed money and IDs. Who were those assholes?”

  Bridger held one up to the light and shrugged. “My guess is these are fake.” He tossed them to Gregg. “Two Mexican licenses and two Colombian.” He flipped through the passports. “These have different names.” He tossed them to Gregg as well.

  “Okay. I’ll call the gang and let them know we hit paydirt.” Gregg pulled his cell phone out and began punching numbers. “Maybe once I get back to some form of technology, I can trace these and we can find out who we’re dealing with.”

  Bridger stepped back and stared at the room. “We still didn’t find any cell phones.” He spun a slow circle, his eyes taking in everything. “Surely these guys would have a way to…” His voice trailed off as he strode across the room.

  Gregg held his hand over the phone. “What are you doing?”

  “Following a hunch.”

  Gregg turned back to the phone. “Yeah. We found it. Meet us back at the cabins.” He pushed the end call button then turned to Bridger, who was staring into the air conditioning unit below the window. “What are you doing?”

  “If I wanted to hide something and didn’t trust the maids not to stumble on it…” He grabbed the plastic cover and hefted, wrenching it from the base unit. He slowly rose up, a smile on his face. “Cell phones.” He held the devices in the air.

  “Son of a…” Gregg snorted a chuckle. “I guess it takes a paranoid to know one.”

  Luis parked the Mercedes in the parking lot of the diner and adjusted the rear view so that the front of the hotel was visible.

  “How did they know where Juan was staying?”

  Luis shook his head. “I do not know.” His eyes narrowed as the two gringos pushed through the front doors. “But something tells me that they found what they were looking for.”

  “Why do you think that?” Fernando asked.

  “A hunch.” Luis reached for the starter button as the two men climbed into their black SUV. “If they turn back to where they came from, we’ll know.”

  Hector turned in his seat, and watched the black SUV turn back the way it had come. “I think perhaps you are correct, Luis.”

  Luis closed his eyes and fought the urge to curse. “We follow.” He put the Mercedes in reverse and eased out of the parking spot. “There is much more traffic now. It should be easier to blend in.”

  He pulled the Mercedes onto the highway and allowed a few cars to fill the gap between the two vehicles. He maintained a steady pace and nodded when the truck turned right and began driving back towards the park.

  “I think it is time we end this,” Luis stated. He turned to Hector. “Get el jefe on the phone. I have an idea.”

  Hector punched the number in then handed the phone to Luis. “Jefe, it’s Luis. I have an idea for these cabrónes that I think you’ll like.”

  El Fantasma listened carefully to Luis’ plan and nodded to himself. “You can keep them there until the others arrive?”

  Luis smiled as he drove. “Si, Jefe. I am positive of this.”

  “Then make it so. I will send you reinforcements immediately. Expect them by sundown.”

  Luis smiled again. “Gracias, Jefe. I won’t let you down.” He ended the call and tossed the phone to Hector. “Are you ready?”

  Hector smiled as he tucked the phone back into his coat pocket. “I was ready before you called him.”

  Luis looked to the rearview mirror. “Fernando?”

  He looked up and met Luis’ stare. He pulled a folding knife from his pocket and flicked the blade open. “Just let me at them.”

  Langley Virginia

  * * *

  Matt Laughlin pushed his way into his boss’s office. “I need a leave of absence.”

  Phillip Sammons looked up from the papers scattered on his desk. “You missed the morning meeting, Laughlin.”

  “I know.” He shoved the file in front of his boss. “Something came up.”

  Phil reached for the file and flipped it open. “Jesus, Matt. This is from ’98.”

  Matt crossed his arms and nodded. “I was their supervising field officer. Whatever is going on, they’re tightening the ranks.”

  “Clearinghouse report?” Phil held the paper up. “This is what has your panties in a twist?”

  “Phil, these guys broke up in late ‘99. None of them ever spoke to another again until just a few days ago. Now they’ve put the band back together and they’re up to something.” He reached across the desk and tapped the report at the top of the file. “Our pilot bit it just days ago in a questionable accident. Houston PD states that there was a gangland style attempt on Sparrow—I mean, Vasquez, just a few days after. Next thing you know, White is crawling out of the Everglades for the first time in possibly a decade, and they’ve all convened at some shithole state park in southeastern Oklahoma.” He stood back and eyed his superior. “Something is going on.”

  Phil shut the file and slid it back across to him. “Why not just call them and ask what the fuck is up?”

  Matt set his jaw. “You didn’t read the entire file.”

  Phil shook his head. “It’s three inches thick. No. I didn’t read it. How about you give me the Reader’s Digest version?”

  “They walked out on me, took my chopper, then raided three separate government supply depots gathering their own arsenal.” He blew his breath out hard. “Then they went after unauthorized targets on their own.”

  “Using government supplied munitions,” Phil finished for him. “That was a shit storm just waiting to happen.”

  “The only thing that saved their asses was that there weren’t any cases of collateral damage.” He cleared his throat. “That we know of.”

  “So, it was unsanctioned…yet nobody bothered to report their actions or attempted to stop them.” Phil pulled his reading glasses off and gave Matt a stern stare. “So, unofficially, their actions were…sort of sanctioned.”

  Matt sighed and sat down heavily. “They were doing what nobody had the balls to authorize.” He shrugged again. “Until they stopped.”

  “Why’d they stop?”

  Matt gave him a look that he couldn’t quite read. “Some think it was because they ran out of munitions.”

  “What do you think?”

  Matt eyed his boss carefully before he spoke. “My personal belief is that they took enough heads to satisfy their own sense of retribution.” He seemed to deflate in the chair. “We lost a man during the initial op and the team took it really hard. They wanted blood and didn’t want to have to ask permission to do it.”

  “So they crippled one of the largest drug cartels in history…and then just quit and went home?”

  Matt nodded. “So it seems. They were this close to causing the entire operation to implode and they just fell off of the map.”

  Phil reached for the file again and perused the personnel sheets. “Bridger?” He sat back and eyed Laughlin carefully. “Why does that name ring a bell?”

  Matt chuckled slightly then became more serious. “Last year? That total pooch screw in Pakistan?”

  Phil’s eyes widened. “Ah, yes. I remember that.” He sat up straighter. “That was Bridger?”

  Matt nodded. “He had returned to the states and continued working for us with different operations. Then one day he just fell off the planet.”

  Phil scanned the other names. “Anybody el
se continue in our line of work?”

  “Soares did for a while until he went private. He’s been working for Baba Yaga since then.”

  Phil nodded again then flipped through the sheets. “Mauk?”

  “Worked in the prison systems for a while.” Matt shrugged. “Nothing of note.”

  “Vasquez worked for Houston PD, you said?”

  “Correct. And Wolcott bounced between mediflights and working in the prison systems.” He leaned forward and tapped DJ’s photo. “He fell off the planet as well.”

  Phil continued reading then closed the file. He sat back and gave Laughlin a disapproving stare. “How long?”

  “For?”

  “Your leave of absence.”

  Matt came to his feet and picked up the file. “I honestly have no idea. But I need to know why they’re back and working together.”

  Phil sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Two weeks. No more.”

  Matt gave him a weak smile. “I’ll keep you in the loop.”

  “You’d better.” Phil pointed at him with the arm of his glasses. “And if this turns out to be nothing more than a twenty year reunion, your ass is right back here.”

  10

  Southeastern Oklahoma

  * * *

  Bridger paced by the door while Gregg typed feverishly at his computer. “You were right. The passports are phony.” He tossed them to the side table. “Not that they’ll be needing them anytime soon.”

  “The driver’s licenses?”

  “Working on it.” Gregg leaned back in his chair and wiped at his eyes. “This may take a while. Colombia isn’t exactly the type to play nice with us.”

  DJ cracked the door and slipped inside. “I ditched the rental car.” He walked to the small sink and began to wash his hands.

  “The bodies?” Lisa asked.

  “In shallow graves near a well-traveled game trail. With any luck, a bear or wolf or…” DJ shrugged. “If they find the bones, they should be scattered over a pretty good area.”

  Mauk stood and hovered over Gregg’s shoulder. “When do we leave?”

  “First we have to find out exactly where we’re going.” Bridger stated, his eyes glued to the computer screen.

  “Come on, Bobby. We know who these assholes worked for.” Mauk stood, his brow furrowing. “Why delay?”

  Bobby raised a brow at Mauk. “We’re not going into this halfcocked.” He glanced at the others. “This isn’t the jungles of the 90’s. These assholes have top of the line security and a small army of men.”

  DJ tossed the hand towel to the counter. “Amen to that. I had a buddy in the teams back in the day. They were tasked with training the local federales.” He glanced to the others. “Get this…the Colombian government was paying their cops something like $600 bucks a month. We trained them how to fight the cartels and inflict the most damage and the moment they hit the field, the cartels would hit them up and say, ‘We’ll pay you $2500 a month, supply medical and dental, and if anything happens to you, your family is taken care of.’” He smirked and shook his head. “I’m sure you can imagine what happened next.”

  Lisa snorted and threw her hands up. “No doubt. They jumped ship.”

  “En masse,” DJ replied. “The same guys they trained two months before, they faced in the jungles.”

  “Using their own tactics against them.” Mauk groaned. “Sounds about right.”

  “Family is everything to those people. Just the idea that they would be taken care of…” Lisa trailed off. “No wonder they switched sides.”

  “The devil you know,” Bobby mumbled.

  “Got it,” Gregg chimed in. “The driver’s licenses are real. And they have a long list of known associates.” He hit the print button and the printer began to spit out sheets of paper. “Most of whom are known narco traffickers.”

  “For Murillo?” Mauk asked.

  Gregg shrugged. “That would be a pretty good guess, but the rap sheets don’t exactly specify which cartel they’re tied to.”

  Bridger sifted through the sheets. “This is good enough for me.” His shoulders squared and he nodded to the group. “Let’s do this.”

  Lisa reached for the door knob and stood in the open doorway, her eyes scanning the front yard. “Do you hear that hissing noise?”

  Bobby lunged for the door and slammed it shut, taking her to the ratty couch as they fell. Splinters of wood erupted from the front door as bullets shredded through the old pine.

  Everybody inside the cabin hit the floor and covered their heads. Shots continued to rip through the cabin, shattering glass and punching holes through the thin wooden walls.

  Mauk reached for his thigh pocket and pulled his folding knife. He began to gouge at the old pine boards that made up the floor. “Working on exfil!” he half shouted over the sounds of shattering glass.

  “Fuck me!” Gregg groaned as he rolled beside an interior doorjamb. “There goes our deposit.”

  Fernando continued to squeeze the trigger, sweeping the barrel of his suppressed Uzi back and forth across the front of the small cabin, punching holes through the old and rotting wood. As he ejected the magazine and forced another one in, Luis placed his hand across the top of the weapon. He ignored the searing heat as he gently pushed the barrel down. “That is enough.”

  Fernando jerked the weapon away and glared at his boss. “We could finish them now.” He jabbed the barrel toward the cabin. “They were not expecting us.”

  Luis pulled him quietly behind a large tree. “And yet, they were.” He nodded to the front of the cabin. “Señorita Vazquez stood right in that open doorway before you pulled the trigger yet there is no body.”

  Fernando ground his teeth as he tried to stare down Luis. “Her body fell inside.”

  Luis shook his head. “The large gringo tackled her to the ground and shut the door before you ever fired.” He nodded back to the cabin. “He is no amateur. He expected us.”

  “Then what would you have us do?”

  Luis gave him a soft smile. “We wait. El jefe is sending more soldiers. We will overwhelm them with sheer numbers.” He inhaled deeply of the pine laden air and smiled at its scent. “We simply keep them here.”

  “The jammer is set and running,” Hector stated as he crept toward the tree. “What else?”

  Luis pointed to the far side of the cabin. “Take up a point where you can see the rear. Do not allow them to exit.” He turned to Fernando. “You go to the left and do the same. Watch the front.”

  “And what will you be doing, eh, Luis?” Fernando asked a bit too gruffly.

  Again, Luis smiled at him. “I shall stay here and cover the front as well. Their car has two flat tires. Where can they go?” He chuckled as he turned from behind the tree and used the Tahoe as a screen. “And I shall check with el Fantasma and follow his orders. Just as you shall.”

  Fernando muttered to himself as he turned and trudged through the thick undergrowth of the woods. He continually glanced over his shoulder at Luis. “Just once I’d like to see you grow some cajones and make a decision yourself.” He kicked at a rock as he slipped between the trees. “Instead you want to hide and wait for others to come and fight for us.” He turned and spat in disgust towards Luis. “Coward.”

  Over the skies of Southeastern Oklahoma

  * * *

  Matt Laughlin felt his butthole pucker as the plane approached the airport. “That’s not a fucking airport!” He pointed nervously. “That’s a cow pasture!”

  The pilot shrugged. “I’ve landed in worse, sir. Please sit back and buckle your seat belt.” Matt grabbed the loose end of his seat belt and pulled it tight. He quickly made the sign of the cross over his chest then kissed his thumbnail. The pilot gave him a sideways look. “You’re obviously not Catholic.”

  “No, but if I knew prayers in Hindi right now, I’d be spitting them out as well.”

  “Please.” The pilot continued to feather the throttle and Matt felt the plane drop sudden
ly. “I could land this thing in your backyard and still avoid your wife’s flower beds.”

  “I’m not married!” he screamed as the plane bounced once then slowly rolled across the rough ground. “Tell me we didn’t crash.”

  The pilot shot him another quick glance. “And you’re a Regional Director?”

  Matt swallowed hard and loosed the neck of his shirt. “I don’t like…uh…to fly.”

  The pilot smirked. “It’s not the flying that’s dangerous. It’s the landing.”

  “Very funny.” Matt unbuckled his seat belt as the plane slowed to a stop and the pilot turned it around. “Just let me off this thing.”

  The pilot reached across and tapped his leg. “I think your rental is here.”

  Matt covered his eyes and peered through the plastic windshield. “Seriously?”

  “Hey, that’s a nice ride, man.”

  “Maybe for Bumfuck, Oklahoma.” Matt sighed as he pushed the door open and stepped out of the Cessna Citation. “Find a hotel in town.” He grabbed his bag and turned back to the pilot. “I hope to be in and out but this could get…” He sighed again. “Just be ready to leave at a moment’s notice.”

  “Roger that.” The pilot reached for his clipboard as Matt walked across the sparse grass to his waiting rental.

  “This is it?” he asked, pulling his sunglasses down.

  The man glanced at the Jeep Wrangler then back to Matt. “We, uh…we’re sort of the only car rental place in town with anything available.” He gave him a weak smile. “You’re lucky we had a Jeep left. A lot of people like to rent them and go off roading in the snow.”

  Matt groaned as he tossed his bag into the back of the Jeep. “I’m sure they do.” He grunted as he hiked his leg up to climb into the lifted 4X4.

  “I don’t…um…could you maybe give me a ride back to the shop?” The kid cut him a silly grin. “We don’t usually bring the Jeeps out to people at the airport.”