Search and Destroy

by JT Sawyer

  “He’s a fugitive—a CIA agent who killed a bunch of people back east—and he’s come here to finish the job.”

  “The guy who killed your friend Landis? Madre de Dios…what have you gotten me into?”

  Ross pulled out a .38 snubbie, thrusting it into the Venezuelan’s hand. “Having your own country to rule comes with a fucking hefty price, Ernesto. It’s time you earned your keep.” Roth nodded towards the woman in the hood restrained to the chair in the corner. “If Shepard makes it up here, you finish her off.”

  “What? No!” He shoved the pistol back towards the man.

  “You want the remaining ten million in cash then you best respect the hand that feeds you, boy.”

  “I’m not going to kill someone for you. You’re a fucking animal.”

  Roth raised his arm, his meaty backhand connecting with Rimaldi’s cheek and dropping him to the ground. “The hell kind of leader are you? How can you be so unwilling to get your hands dirty to get what you want in life?”

  Roth’s eyes filled his face as a cacophony of gunfire erupted from numerous locations around the main ranch, along with the sound of a vehicle racing across the property.

  “He’ll be torn to shit in a few minutes, so everyone just stay put for now.”

  The moonlight stabbing in through the curtains revealed everyone’s location except Montoya’s. Roth nervously glanced around then saw the side door to the porch was ajar. He swung his head back towards the large coffee table, seeing the suitcases of money were gone.

  Roth ground his teeth, striding across the room towards the door, clutching the beefy pistol in his hand.

  56

  Shepard had already trotted past the first tack barn when the sheriff’s car crashed through the flower gardens lining the driveway in front of Roth’s home. The yellow-orange hue of muzzle blasts from a half-dozen directions lit up the property from the Colombian mercenaries, the lights becoming fewer as Viper’s sniperwork picked them apart.

  Shepard darted from the edge of a stone bunkhouse to the corner of a small garage filled with tractors. He paused, seeing the three-story estate ahead. He bounded the remaining thirty yards, keeping to the rear of the building to avoid the burly armed figure on the front deck. The man was much larger than the Colombians, and his pale complexion made Cal think it was Roth’s personal bodyguard, whom he had observed during the drone reconnaissance the day before.

  Shepard paused beside a water-catchment barrel near the garage, clutching the AR he’d obtained from the dead merc at the gate. He peered through the nightscope on the rifle then squeezed the trigger in rapid succession, punching two holes into Karl’s neck. The bodyguard slumped onto the wooden railing, tumbling over the side.

  The blood-orange fingers of dawn were piercing through the sky, and he knew the advantage of darkness was about to end. Immediately, Shepard trotted up the back steps that led to the porch on the third level, flipping up his NVGs.

  Once he was at the top, he tapped on his ear-mic. “Viper, I’m heading inside. You know what to do.”

  “Copy that,” she said in between bursts of rounds from her sniper rifle.

  57

  Roth was just heading onto the porch when he saw a shimmer of movement to his left near the steps. The chilling image of the face that had filled the news for weeks was only inches from him.

  The comfort of having a dozen armed mercenaries spread out around his isolated ranch drained away. He tried to backpedal but was met with a vicious jab in the face from the man’s rifle butt.

  “Drop the gun and turn around,” said Shepard.

  Roth’s hand was trembling. He tossed the .410 pistol on the deck, pivoting towards the door.

  Shepard shoved him inside. When his eyes adjusted, he saw the face of Ernesto Rimaldi, recognizing him from the recent campaign videos he’d been studying online. His face grew taut at the sight of Amanda Carter. She looked disheveled and exhausted as Rimaldi helped her get free of the restraints on her hands and legs.

  “You’re here? Why am I not surprised?” he said.

  “Yeah, well, your actions have influenced my travel plans lately.”

  “You OK?” said Shepard.

  Carter flung the snipped zip-ties in Roth’s face before answering. “Yeah, just been tied to this chair since last night when I got here, and they’re holding two of my agents in the hangar.”

  Coming up the steps was Adam Hunley, followed by a person Shepard never expected to see—Jessica Quinn who was holding a Springfield 9mm pistol aimed at Carter.

  Shepard’s eyes narrowed into slits. “Jessica…what? How did you get tied up in all of this?” he said as he shoved Roth onto the couch, keeping his weapon fixed on the woman.

  A faint grin crept out from Quinn’s lips. “Vogel was the magician. She trained me in cyber-intrusion, though she’s not as sharp as everyone thinks, since her own protégé was moonlighting under her fucking nose. When Adam approached me a year ago with a plan to get rich restoring my country to its former glory, I was finally able to put my skills to use besides yakking at agents like you in some shithole that had no bearing on my life.”

  “‘Your country’? What the hell are you talking about?” said Shepard.

  “My mother was American, my father Venezuelan. My mother and I were forced to flee Caracas when I was eight years old after my father was imprisoned by El Presidente. He tortured and murdered my father for speaking out against the government.” Quinn’s face tensed. “We lost everything. Everyone in my country did when that monster came into power.”

  Rimaldi uttered something in Spanish to her. She narrowed her eyes at him, repositioning her pistol towards his chest. “You are as naïve as Adam said. Of course, the bloodshed and suffering must end, which is why I’ve been steering your political campaign online so you will dominate in the polls next week. Did you really think your passion was enough to carry you to the capitol?”

  “So, you’re Michele Henderson…the one who leaked my identity to the press? Do you know how many innocent people you’ve killed, and how many of my colleagues overseas you’ve compromised?” said Shepard.

  “I’m sorry for your wife and your friends, I really am, but Rourke and Montoya were the stagehands who worked on that act of the play. I was at Langley that day, doing my patriotic duty.”

  Carter was rubbing her sore wrists and eyeing the .38 on the desk beside Rimaldi.

  “I wouldn’t do that, Agent Carter,” said Hunley. He inverted his hand, showing a black detonator with a flashing red light. “I wasn’t so sure if our Colombian friends would be able to hold the fort here once you arrived, Mr. Shepard, so I took a little extra precaution.”

  “Are you insane, Adam?” barked Roth, squirming in his seat.

  “The floor beneath you has been rigged with C4, courtesy of Montoya. He’s preparing the plane for takeoff as we speak.” Hunley glanced over at Rimaldi. “And you needn’t worry—you’re coming with us, since you have a country to run soon.”

  “Fuck that. I’m not working for you,” said the presidential candidate.

  Hunley chuckled. “Of course you are, especially since Roth will no longer be of use. He’s already provided the initial funding we needed, and I have other contacts in DC lined up to support our oil agreement.”

  “What?” said Roth, standing up, balling his fists.

  “There are far more profitable extraction firms than yours, Vince. You may have a long reach in the oil industry, but there are many other smaller firms willing to work for half the price. I just needed you to get this venture underway.”

  Hunley started to walk towards the stairs with Quinn, his thumb hovering over the detonation switch. “It appears Shepard methodically took you all out in his final act of revenge and…”

  The large propane tank near the back entrance of the house exploded, courtesy of Viper’s marksmanship, shattering the windows on every level as it ruptured the lower corner of the main estate.

  The first bullet from S
hepard’s rifle caught Hunley in the left temple, blowing out the other side of his head. He dropped the detonator and tumbled back onto the steps.

  Roth spun around, rushing at Shepard only to catch two rounds in his nose and forehead from eight feet. The man’s eyes widened further in what remained of the mangled framework of his face as he collapsed to the ground.

  Carter grabbed the .38 snubbie, racing to the steps and retrieving the detonator as Quinn disappeared over the rubble of the second floor below.

  “We need to go now,” yelled Shepard. “This whole place is unstable as hell and could still blow.”

  Carter and Rimaldi followed Shepard back to the porch then down the steps. They heard a car’s tires squealing in the distance as Quinn sped down the main road towards the exit.

  “My people… I need to get to my other agents,” said Carter, pointing towards the hangar.

  Shepard handed his AR to Carter then picked up the .308 SCAR rifle that was next to Karl’s body on the ground, nodding for her to go.

  “What about you?” she said.

  He fixed his attention on the small plane moving out towards the runway. “I just need to finish what I started.”

  58

  Carter sprinted along the outbuildings, making it to the horse stable a hundred yards from the hangar where agents Martinez and Dobson were being held.

  God, I hope they’re still alive.

  She knelt down, seeing the outline of a person with a rifle near a cluster of water barrels to the left of the hangar. Carter fixed her sights on the center mass, seeing it was a woman. As she steadied her finger on the trigger, she saw the shooter send a controlled burst of rounds downrange, dropping two mercenaries near the corner of the structure.

  The woman paused, doing a reload then catching sight of Carter. She gave her a hard stare then waved her over.

  Shit, she’s on my side, I think.

  Carter kept her AR rifle at a low-ready as she crouch-trotted towards the water barrels, squatting down next to the dark-skinned woman.

  “Who the hell are you?” said Carter.

  “Name’s Viper.”

  “Of course it is. You one of Shepard’s people?”

  “Or maybe he’s one of mine.”

  “Christ…are any of you capable of just answering a fucking question head-on?”

  Viper smirked. “Is that rhetorical?”

  “Very funny. My two agents were inside there as of last night. Have you seen them?”

  “No, been too busy plinkin’ the wildlife around here.” She glanced down at Carter’s rifle. “I need you to provide suppressive fire while I head for the other corner of the hangar. There are two more goons inside.”

  “I’ll go—the agents in there are my responsibility.”

  The woman looked her over, slinging her rifle and removing a Glock 19. “These guys are all wearing some serious body armor. You used to doing multiple headshots during a fifty-yard dash?”

  Carter looked at the other dead bodies in the distance, seeing that nearly all of the long-range shots were single rounds through the skull.

  Damn!

  “Alright, but what makes you think you can trust me?” Carter kept her weapon trained on the shadows to the far right.

  “Because Cal does, and that’s enough for me.”

  Viper hopped up, bounding along the rear of the hangar then disappearing around the corner. A second later, a burst of gunfire erupted, followed by silence. Carter’s heart was nearly punching through her chest at the thought of whether her agents were still alive.

  “Clear!” came Viper’s voice from inside the building.

  Carter crept around the backside then entered the hangar, taking a long sigh when she saw her agents being cut loose from their bonds as Viper stood near the two dead shooters.

  How the hell am I ever going to write this one up in the books?

  59

  After sprinting across the east end of the main grounds, Shepard stopped before a row of rusted fuel barrels. The twin turboprop plane was slowly making its way towards the narrow tarmac.

  Shepard lay the SCAR along the barrels, fixing his sights on the engine panel behind the left turboprop. Steadying his breathing, he followed the plane as it began speeding up then squeezed off three rounds, which punched holes through the engine manifold. The plane swerved to the right then fishtailed before coming to a stop on the edge of the runway.

  Shepard was already bolting across the blacktop, slowing as the pilot’s door burst open. Montoya stepped out, raising up a pistol just as Cal fired a flurry of rounds. Two of the bullets tore through Montoya’s left shoulder and upper pec. He backpedaled against the fuselage, sinking to the ground as he shrieked.

  Cal kept his rifle trained on the man as he walked up, kicking aside the 1911 pistol then pointing the SCAR down at the squirming mercenary.

  Montoya grimaced, trying to sit up as blood streamed from his wounds. “It is best this way…dying at the hands of another soldier.”

  Shepard narrowed his eyes. “A soldier fights for a cause beyond himself. Your life has only been about furthering your own interests.”

  “We are the same, I think…both trained by our governments to be efficient killers then cut loose when there was no longer a war to be fought.”

  “As long as there are sociopaths like yourself on this earth, there will be wars.”

  Shepard squeezed off the remaining rounds into the man’s chest then flung the rifle down on the ground.

  He expected some sense of resolution to wash over him, but there was only emptiness.

  The completion of a mission had always meant he could go home. That there was a separation between the horrors of the battlefield and the place he was fighting to protect across the world.

  Now, there was no home to return to and no one to embrace.

  Shepard looked out at the open desert that extended to the horizon, feeling the hot breeze drifting over him as he contemplated what to do next. He heard footfalls behind him and swung around, removing the Glock from his belt.

  Ernesto Rimaldi froze, raising his hands. “I was just coming to check on you.”

  Shepard lowered his weapon, looking back into the cockpit at the two large briefcases that he was sure were filled with money.

  “Sure it’s not to track your packages?”

  “To be fair, it was both. I saw you run after Montoya. He is…” He glanced at the dead man beside Shepard’s boots. “He was a war criminal, and I was horrified to find him working for Roth and Hunley.”

  “So, you got into bed with the wrong people. From what I know about you, you don’t seem that stupid, just willing to be led.”

  “I had hoped a life in politics would be different in my country than what I’ve witnessed in yours. You wake up one day and realize that you have allowed yourself to be fitted with blinders. In the beginning, you think that you will only have them on for a few hours each day, until you discover that they are becoming a permanent extension of your being.”

  “I’ve watched your speeches—you have the brains, passion and the following that your country needs. Maybe you can find another way to still fulfil your vision without losing your soul along the way.”

  “Perhaps.” He rubbed his chin, looking at the cobalt sky. “I’m sorry for what those men did to you…to your wife and your friends. In politics, it is to be expected that you will have others waiting to pounce on you, all the way from the mayor of a small village to the president himself, but no one in your line of work should have to contend with having their life and reputation assaulted like that. You have suffered beyond what I can imagine and endured what no one should have to endure.”

  Shepard stepped aside, waving towards the open door of the cockpit. “You can probably think of a better use for all of this cash than seeing it go back to lining the pockets of Roth’s investors here.”

  Shepard saw a dusty Ford truck driving up with Viper at the helm. She stopped a few feet from the plane. “The
area’s clear, but we should get the hell out of here.”

  “Agreed, you and Ernesto here should be on your way. He gets caught here and he’ll be tied up with ICE and miss his election.”

  Rimaldi extended his hand, shaking Cal’s hand heartily. “I am indebted to you, amigo. For what it’s worth, my home is yours if you ever find yourself down south.”

  “I’ll keep it in mind. Good luck to you.”

  Rimaldi grabbed the two suitcases of money, shoving them into the back seat of the F-350.

  “Where are you going? You have to get out of here too,” Viper said.

  “You two don’t need to be spotted with me on the drive across Texas. I’ll find my own way out.”

  “And then what?” she said. “You got a plan?”

  “We’ll meet at the rendezvous point we discussed at the end of the week.”

  She put the truck into gear. “You better be there. Don’t make me come look for you again.”

  Shepard waved, watching them head off towards the main road.

  He tucked his pistol back into his beltline then headed towards the supply depot near the barn.

  Shepard searched through the keys on the pegboard inside, removing a set for a Toyota truck to the right. He walked to it, opening the door and pausing as he heard the sound of gravel crunching near the entrance.

  He reached for his Glock then let his hand hang by his side when he saw it was Carter. She was holding the AR at a low-ready.

  “How are your other agents?” he said.

  “Alive…thanks to your friend Viper. She saved the day.”

  “Yeah, she has a habit of doing that.”

  Carter stood a few feet from him, still clutching the rifle. “You’ve saved my life more than a few times now too.”

  “And I’d do it all over again if I had to. You’re a fine agent, Carter…and a good woman. The world needs more people like you who stand up for what’s right and decent.”