Laughlin grasped the handle and opened the door, pulling the hydraulic assisted access open just behind the cabin. Mauk and DJ covered the cockpit from outside while the rest entered the craft.
Lisa was up the steps in a flash, her pistol swinging left then right as she cleared the forward area. Bridger covered her six while Laughlin stacked at the entrance, scanning the airfield.
“Clear!” she announced as she turned and headed back through the fuselage. Bridger holstered his weapon then began rifling through the few loose items in the passenger compartment.
“Contact!” Laughlin yelled and Bridger peered through a side window. He maneuvered past the luxurious leather chairs and appeared at the hatch just as Laughlin stepped down and held his hand up, stopping a man in overalls.
“That ain’t your plane.” The man spit something dark to the ground then shoved his hands in his pockets.
“Whose plane is it?” Laughlin asked, his weapon still at the ready.
“Who are you people?” The man glared at them through narrow eyes, showing little concern that an armed group of people had just broken into the plane.
“We’re with the government.” Laughlin fished out his ID and flashed it. “Who owns this plane?”
The man leaned forward and studied his credentials for a moment then spat on the ground again. “Nice group a Mexican businessmen.”
Laughlin gave him a knowing look. “By chance do you have their flight plan?”
The man nodded. “Sure do.” He waved to them over his shoulder. “In my office.”
Bridger pulled Laughlin closer. “I’m sure it’s phony, but check it out anyway. We’re gonna poke through the cabin.”
Laughlin fell into step behind the man and Gregg followed. If the flight plan happened to match the phone records then they’d know for sure they were headed in the right direction.
“You fellas came in that other plane, yeah?” the man asked as he held the door open. “I had to special order that jet fuel for ya.”
“Speaking of…” Laughlin glanced across the tarmac. “Is my pilot here yet?”
“Not so far as I know.” The man pulled a clipboard from the wall and handed it to him. “ Looks like they flew in from Guadalajara. Made a stop in Houston before coming up here.”
Laughlin looked to Gregg who gave a slight shrug. “That’s close. Chapala is just a hop, skip and a jump.”
Laughlin cracked a grin. “Who’d have thought they’d file a real flight plan?”
“What agency are you boys with again?”
Laughlin pulled out a business card and pointed to the cell phone number. “If any of these nice Mexican business men return, call me. Immediately.”
The man spat into an old soup can and nodded, stuffing the card into his overalls. “You betcha.” He nodded toward the window. “I think your pilot is here.”
Laughlin shook the man’s hand then turned for the door. “We’ve got tracks to make.” He nudged Gregg. “Think you can prevent that thing from flying again any time soon?”
He pulled his pistol and held it in the air. “Easy peasy.”
“Negative, Speed Racer.” Laughlin pulled his gun down. “I mean so that they won’t notice.”
Gregg nodded. “Not as easy, but, yeah.”
“Make it not fly.” He clapped the man’s shoulder. “Just in case there are any others floating around the area. The fewer we have to face later, the better.”
Near Chapala Mexico
* * *
El Fantasma strolled onto the veranda of the opulent home and leaned on the railing. He stared out across the lavish gardens and focused on the grand fountain in the center. Water sprayed into the air and a rainbow effect made the manicured court appear almost like a fantasy.
“It is beautiful, no?”
Raul stood three paces behind him and nodded. “Si, Jefe. Magnifico.”
He sighed heavily and turned, leaning on the railing as he pulled a cigar from his inner coat pocket. “Then why do I feel like a caged animal?” He bit the end off of the cigar and spit it over the edge of the rail. As he lit the cigar, he spun it slowly, blowing rich, aromatic blue plumes.
“I do not understand, Jefe.”
He sighed and waved his cigar. “All of this, Raul. All of this was built by men larger than me. This was their dream.” He puffed the cigar and slowly turned back to the garden. “It is not mine. It never was.”
Raul stepped closer, unsure what to say. “Señior Murillo made it clear who his successor was, Jefe.” He slowly approached and stood by his side. “All of this is rightfully yours.”
He shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut. “This was supposed to be for Teresa.” He sighed and leaned on the railing.
“What is wrong?” Raul asked, lowering his voice.
El Fantasma stood and squared his shoulders. “I need a successor.”
“Señior?”
“If things do not go as planned, somebody needs to be ready to pick up the pieces and keep the business going.” He puffed on the cigar and turned to stroll along the veranda. “Too many people rely on our business for their livelihoods.”
“Why do you say these things, Jefe?” Raul fell into step beside him. “Surely Jorge or Roberto can run things if you need a break.”
“I’m not talking about a vacation, Raul.” He paused near the outdoor bar and eyed the man carefully. “They are good enforcers and they follow orders better than any. But it’s not the same as making the hard decisions that this business demands.”
“You have many who could run things for you.” He spoke carefully. “But what do you fear?”
El Fantasma puffed the cigar and blew the smoke straight up into the bamboo ceiling. “I fear we may have poked a sleeping bear, Raul.” He sighed and leaned against the bar. “These people have gone about their lives as if nothing could touch them. I hoped that they had lost their edge over those years, but now?” He inhaled deeply and blew his breath out slowly. “Now, I fear that I may have misjudged them.”
“And you fear retribution?”
He nodded slowly. “Not just retribution.” He turned and studied the smaller man. “They will inflict much pain.”
Raul seemed to stiffen, squaring his shoulders. “I am no warrior, Jefe, you know this. But let them try. Our people will chop them up and feed them to the pigs.” He spat on the deck and cursed under his breath. “Teresa was loved by all of us.”
He nodded slowly, remembering her intoxicating laugh. “Si, she was.”
Raul placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “You never gave up on her.”
He sniffed back a tear and turned from Raul, wiping at his eyes. “She held on for far too long.” He dropped the cigar and pushed it over the edge of the deck with his foot. “They told me that she could never…” His voice cracked as he spoke and he scoffed. “But as long as she still lived, I held hope.”
Raul appeared by his side again. “We all know how much you cared for her.” His voice was barely a whisper. “It was why Señior Murillo accepted you. He trusted you.”
El Fantasma nodded and turned back to him. “We must prepare. If Bravo team somehow found out where we are, we will need to be ready.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Contact the local militias. Hire them all. Even the warring factions. Wave enough money in their faces and they will put aside their differences.” He pointed to the tall stone walls across the courtyard. “I want an army waiting for them when they come.”
“You really think they will come? How would they know to come here?”
“I am certain of it, Raul.” He stood taller and squared his shoulders. “I know because it is what I would do.”
Southeastern Oklahoma
* * *
Miguel Herrera paced the small hotel room nervously. He continued to glance back at Ricardo Diaz as he cycled through the known phone numbers for Luis’ team. “Anything?”
“Nada.” Ricardo tossed the burne
r phone to the bed in frustration. “We have no idea where they had tracked them to?”
Miquel swept his arms wide. “Somewhere in these god forsaken mountains.”
Eduardo Nunez tossed his own phone to the bed. “They must be dead.”
Miquel fell into his chair. “We have orders to track down these gringos and bring el jefe back their heads.” His eyes bounced between the two other men. “We have no idea who they even are.”
“They didn’t tell you who we were to kill?” Ricardo asked, surprised.
Miguel shook his head. “Only that Luis and his team already had them pinned down.” He snorted in derision and bounced to his feet. “Call Raul and have him send us the target information.”
Eduardo scooped his phone from the bed and began to dial. He spoke in hushed tones as Miguel paced in the small room. He snapped his fingers then covered the phone. “They are in the park. A cabin.”
Miguel’s lips pursed as he fought the urge to curse. “That place is huge. We need more than that.”
Eduardo nodded as he spoke. “Check your phone.”
Miguel fished his phone from his pocket and unlocked it. He saw the email notification and clicked on it. Photographs and short Bio’s scrolled across his screen. “These are from government files?”
Eduardo covered the phone. “Raul said they are from the NSA.” He hiked his brows as he listened and turned away from Miguel. “But where in the park? It is a big place.”
Eduardo stared out of the hotel window at the tree covered mountains then nodded. “We will do our best, but you realize we are hunting a needle in the forest.”
“Haystack,” Miguel corrected. He sat down heavily on the bed and continued to scroll through the files. “There is a lot redacted here, but we have the main thing.” He held the phone up. “Pictures.”
“At least we’ll know who to shoot at,” Ricardo grumbled. “If we can find them.”
Eduardo hung up and tossed the phone back to the bed. “All Raul knows is that they were in a cabin in the park.”
Ricardo snatched the stack of brochures from the plastic stand next to the TV. He rifled through until he found a crude map of the park. “Look. They drew us a map and the cabins are all here.” He tossed the folded paper to Miguel.
He scanned the map and shrugged slowly. “Then I guess we drive by each one and hope that they show their faces.”
Eduardo scooped up the burner phones and dropped them into his leather duffel. “We have to try something. It’s better than facing el jefe empty handed.”
Miguel sighed as he pushed off the bed. “Failure is failure to him.” He ran his finger under his chin in a cutting motion. “Luis and his crew knew better than to return with the job undone.”
Ricardo snatched his bag from the bed and reached for the door. “Then we make sure we get the job done.”
15
Southeastern Oklahoma
* * *
“That’s where you plan to attack?” Laughlin asked, his eyes wide. “You have a death wish?”
Bridger stood over the table and squared his shoulders. “That’s where they are. I thought about sending them an invitation to a gunfight but somehow I don’t think they’d accept.”
“This place is a fucking fortress.” Laughlin fell back into the chair and barely noticed his pilot going through the pre-flight checklist. “You need to stop thinking with your heart and start using your damned head again, Bridger.” He pushed the satellite images and the topographical map to the side.
Bobby glared at the man. “Come again?”
“You’re so hellbent on revenge that you aren’t thinking.” Laughlin sighed heavily as he swiped his hand across his face. “Do you even have a clue the layout inside those walls?”
“Fuck the layout,” Mauk muttered. “You get us ordnance and we flatten the whole mountain. We’re back home in time for breakfast.”
Laughlin shook his head and glanced to Lisa, hoping for somebody to agree with him. “You okay with this plan?” He pushed away from the table and came to his feet. “You ready to never see your family again?”
“What are you proposing, Laughlin?” Vasquez asked, crossing her arms and glaring at the man.
“I’m proposing doing your homework.” He stared down at Bobby and slowly shook his head. “It’s one thing to fly over their fields and dump herbicides from the air, it’s another to kick in the door and think you actually have a shot at finding this ‘ghost’ without getting yourselves killed.”
Bridger crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his gaze. “Get to the point.”
Laughlin eyed each of them. “You need a trainer. We get as close of a mockup as we can get of this location and…train.”
“Train?” Lisa asked as she continued to glare at him. “What’s to keep them from pulling up stakes and taking off to the next villa?”
Laughlin shrugged. “They won’t.” He raised a brow at her. “As it sits now, they’ve sent two teams after you. If you were them, wouldn’t you expect an attack? Wouldn’t you be fortifying your position and preparing for a team to come knocking?”
Bobby slowly shook his head. “I hate to say it, but he’s right.” He eyed each of them carefully. “You want to defend a place you already know.”
Mauk cleared his throat. “And who’s to say they don’t have another place that is more defendable? A better place? One that they’re holed up in already?”
Bobby came to his feet. “Then we wouldn’t know where that place is anyway. We’d be standing at the airport with our dicks in our hand wondering where the fuck they went.”
Lisa groaned as she fell into the chair. “And I don’t know about you, but my dick is too damned big to risk having it shot off by these assholes.” She turned and shot Laughlin another hateful glare. “So what are you suggesting?”
“Train.” He stepped around Mauk’s long legs stretched across the aisle and reached for the wet bar. As he poured himself a drink he thought aloud. “I still have some pull. I might be able to get the layout to the villa. Possibly.” He turned and took a sip of the amber liquid. “I still have some friends at SOCOM. They could have us a mockup built in a matter of hours once we get them the layout.” He tossed back the drink and winced slightly. “So, what do you say? Do you want to actually prepare for this shit show or fly by the seat of your pants?”
Bobby glanced to Gregg and Mauk then groaned as he came up from the chair. “They’ll have time to reinforce their numbers.”
Laughlin nodded. “That’s assuming they haven’t already.” He sat down and rolled the glass in his hands. “But you’ll be better prepared.” He raised a brow at him. “And we could get some of the best minds SOCOM has to offer to go over your plan of attack before you try to implement it.”
“I thought you said that you were on leave?” Gregg asked as he came out of his seat. “How you gonna set all of this up without authorization?”
Laughlin shrugged slightly. “Let’s just say that there are a lot of people who owe me favors.” He glanced to the men and his face hardened. “I’m prepared to call in those markers if it means getting the people responsible for killing Mario and Rob.”
Bridger nodded slightly then took his seat again. “Then let’s do it.”
Laughlin leaned across his seat and yelled to the pilot. “Set us a course for Florida. We’re going to MacDill Air Force Base.”
Southeastern Oklahoma
* * *
Miguel Herrera picked up a shell casing and held it close to his nose. “Something very bad happened here.”
“If you are saying that it’s bad that they escaped, then yes.” Ricardo Diaz huffed as he overturned the meager furnishings in the cabin. “They left without their car? How? Did they walk out of these woods?”
Eduardo Nunez appeared in the doorway. “Raul is asking for an update for el jefe. What do I tell him?” He held the phone against his jacket as he spoke, muffling the sound.
Miguel came to his feet and squ
inted as he stared deeply into the woods. “Tell him the truth. We have only just found their cabin and they are not here.” He tossed the casing to the ground and peered back towards the disabled vehicle. “Apparently there was a shootout and none of the team, nor the targets, are still onsite.”
Ricardo kicked at the broken glass across the floor. “I think it’s safe to assume that the gringos still live.”
Eduardo nodded slowly and backed away, speaking softly into the phone. Miguel appeared by Ricardo’s side. “I need you to make some calls.”
“To who?” he asked as he straightened his overcoat.
“The people you have with the American government.” Miguel looked away, his face unreadable. “Apparently el jefe’s contacts aren’t as reliable as he had hoped.” He turned and stared solemnly at the slight built man. “I want these people, Ricardo. I want them badly.”
“As do I.” He nodded slowly as he stepped away, pulling his phone from his breast pocket. “If they are to be found, I’ll find them.”
Miguel stepped outside the cabin and breathed deeply of the pine scented woods. He glanced to the grey overhead sky and yearned for home. “The sooner we are done with this task, the sooner we can go back.”
Langley Virginia
* * *
Phil Sammons snatched the phone from its cradle, switched off the speaker and pressed the receiver to his ear. “I don’t think I heard you correctly, Laughlin. Do you care to repeat yourself?”
Matt sighed heavily into the phone and hung his head. “I need to use our resources. Just for a few days. I tried to call in a marker at MacDill and…”
“Let me guess, they told you to pound sand?”
“My guy isn’t there any longer. I guess he retired.”
Phil sat back in his chair and tried to stretch the knot from his neck. “You’re supposed to be on leave, Matt. Not gallivanting across the country and stirring up shit.”
Burning Bridges Page 10