Retribution
Page 7
“Wait one, two-niner.”
“Roger.”
“Grinch? Reaper. You still with us buddy?”
“Only just.”
“Do you have a strobe on you?”
“Roger.”
“Light it up.”
Then, “Two-niner, this is Reaper, over.”
“Go ahead, Reaper.”
“Two-niner, do you have eyes on a strobe to the west of the main building? Over.”
“Roger that, Reaper.”
“We have men pinned down in that area. The rest of us are in a defensive perimeter around the embassy. Anything outside of those zones is all yours. Be aware, some of the hostiles have RPGs, over.”
“Roger that. Sit tight, Reaper, and enjoy the show. Two-niner, out.”
Kane would learn later that the Blackhawk was Australian, in-country on special exercises.
“Grinch? Reaper. Keep your heads down. Things are about to get loud.”
“Copy that.”
There was a loud brrrrrrrp as the Blackhawk door-gunner opened-up with a mini-gun. Sparks flew from its rotating muzzles, and a line of tracers lit the night like the Fourth of July. From where he was positioned, Kane could hear the rounds impact whatever they hit.
Screams from the dying pierced the night, only to be drowned out with each sweep of the helicopter. It was an awesome display.
“How are we looking, Hammer?”
The sniper never took his eye away from the night-vision scope mounted on his M110. “Tangos are pulling back.”
“Two-niner? Reaper, over.”
“Reading you, Reaper, over.”
“Hostiles are on the run, over.”
“Roger that. We’ll give them a few more bursts to make their night complete. Two-niner, out.”
Twice more the Blackhawk swooped down over the compound and unleashed a leaden fury that ripped apart whatever it touched. Once they were finished, the pilot’s voice came over the net. “Reaper? Two-niner, over.”
“Copy, Two-niner.”
“Looks like your visitors have left the area, over.”
“Copy that. Thanks for your assistance, Two-niner. I owe you a beer. Over.”
“I’d say more than one, Reaper. Two-niner, leaving station.”
“Reaper, out.”
Kane walked to the edge of the roof and looked out across the compound. “Grinch, Cowboy, sitrep.”
Cowboy was the first to answer. “Still breathing, Reaper.”
“I need a medic,” said Grinch. “We got a marine down, over.”
“Copy that.”
Kane turned to face Cara who stood ten feet from him, the sniper-rifle she’d been using canted across her chest. Kane was about to say something to her when Hammer’s voice cut across him.
“Shit! I got movement two hundred meters out. Get down, Sniper!”
Before Kane could move, a bullet slammed into him. His tactical vest was designed to stop bullets, but not all bullets were created equal, and occasionally, one got through. This one just happened to be his.
As he fell, Kane could hear the voices on the net. “Sniper down.”
“Reaper’s hit.”
“Shit! How bad?”
“How the fuck should I know?”
Bad, he thought.
He lay on the roof, pain-free at first because the shock of the bullet’s impact had numbed him. His vision swirled, and Cara’s face swam into a blurred focus. Hers was joined by Hammer’s as he started to strip the tactical vest off him.
Hammer’s lips moved, but Kane couldn’t make out what he said. Cara too was talking but still no joy.
Deep down he could feel the pain begin. A deep, burning agony unlike any he’d felt before. Kane struggled to breathe, each breath seeming harder than the last.
Then his hearing started to come back. He heard Hammer shout, “Medic! Get a medic up here!”
He looked into Cara’s eyes. “Hang in there, Reaper.”
Nothing came out when he tried to speak.
“Come on, Reaper, stay with me, buddy,” Hammer pleaded. “You ain’t dying up here tonight. And you sure as shit ain’t leaving me alone with Cowboy.”
Kane’s vision started to darken. “Chip,” he gasped.
“I’m still here, Reaper.”
“Chip—”
Retribution
“—Chip?”
Kane sat up, his naked torso bathed in sweat. He realized it was only a dream and lay back down. Somewhere in the room, he heard the low buzz of a fly, while outside, the desert heat was already climbing, even though it was only just after six, and the sun was still low in the sky.
He rubbed at the puckered scar on his chest and then at another lower down on his side. Remnants of another war. He’d spent a month in the hospital after the embassy incident. The doctor told him he’d been lucky. Once he was fit enough, Kane re-joined his team, and they were sent to Africa where they’d lost Cowboy to a brainwashed child soldier in the Central African Republic.
It was only after Grinch had been killed that he and Chip decided they’d had enough and opted out. And now he’d run into Cara. Who would’ve thought?
Kane rose from the bed and walked into the bathroom. He showered and then found some fresh clothes in his pack, even if they were a little scrunched. He had a coffee and was out on the sidewalk before six-thirty. He knew that Druce had said six, but he figured that there wasn’t much happening.
When he arrived at Arno’s, the first thing he heard was raised voices coming from the back room where he figured the office to be. Kane walked through the workshop and halted just outside.
“Barrett said for you to be ready to go in two days,” the first voice said.
“How many more times am I going to have to do it, Buck?” Kane heard Druce whine.
“You’ll keep doing it until Barrett tells you otherwise.”
“I’ve had enough,” Druce said. “I paid him back the money I owed. That should be enough.”
“You’re in it all the way, Elmore. There is no out. Unless you’d like a visit from El Monstruo. Is that what you want?”
Druce mumbled something that Kane couldn’t make out. Then he heard Buck say, “All right, so you be ready in two days.”
Two men who Kane recognized from the incident at the motel the day before, emerged from the office. They stopped and stared at him. One had a tanned face and a singlet top. The other wore jeans and had long hair.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” challenged the man with the tanned face.
Kane stared at him. “I work here.”
“The hell you do.”
“I – I hired him yesterday when he got off the bus,” Druce stammered.
Buck whirled on him and snarled, “You stupid shit! Fire him.” Buck looked back at Kane. “You’re fired, get the hell out of here.”
Kane didn’t move. “Ain’t your call.”
Buck took a step towards him, and Kane debated whether to pull the gun from behind his back or not, then decided against it. The gangster jabbed a finger into Kane’s chest.
“Listen to me, asshole,” Buck snarled. “I told you to get … Argh!”
With swift movements, Kane grabbed the offending finger with his left hand, and his iron grip broke it like a dry twig. His right swept up like a claw and powerful fingers wrapped around Buck’s throat.
“You listen to me, asshole,” Kane hissed as he stared into the bulging eyes of the gangster. “I’ve had enough of you and yours. You think you can be badass? I know I can be badass. If you fellers keep coming for me, one of you won’t be going home.”
“Am I interrupting something?”
They turned to see Cara standing in the doorway, dressed in her deputy’s uniform. Kane pushed the injured Buck away from him.
“These fellers were just leaving,” Kane informed her.
Buck cradled his sore hand and growled, “You broke my finger.”
“Be thankful that was all I broke.”
“This ain’t over,” he snarled.
“I won’t be too hard to locate,” Kane informed him as he walked out of the garage.
Cara stared at Kane. “You’re just making friends everywhere you go, aren’t you?”
Kane smiled. “I’m a friendly guy.”
“What was that about?”
“I’ll tell you later.”
Cara nodded.
“Ah, Kane,” Druce said.
“Yeah.”
“It may be … ah … best if you … ah, if you don’t work here.”
“Are you going to let them buffalo you?”
A pained expression came across his face. “You don’t understand.”
Kane opened his mouth to say more, but Cara cut him off. “Reaper! On me.”
He turned his head and asked, “You didn’t just get all military on me, did you?”
She shrugged and gave him a smug look. “Got your attention. Besides I want a word. It’s the reason I’m here.”
Kane gave Druce a dark look and followed Cara outside.
“All right, what is it?”
“The sheriff’s gone missing.”
The Desert
The Tahoe bounced over yet another hole in the deeply-rutted road, and Kane lurched in the seat. He’d only just righted himself from that one when the SUV hit another.
“Christ, Cara. You trying to kill us before we get to wherever it is we’re headed?”
“This is the good part,” she pointed out. “The rest of the road past the Grissom place is full of washouts and holes you’d lose a house in.”
“Tell me about this Grissom feller.”
“He’s a vet. Vietnam war. Lives out here on his own. Owns a whole lot of desert that’s good for nothing.”
“Is he stable?”
“Never had cause to doubt it before. The only time we ever heard from him was when he called to complain about people using the old road that ran through his land. Cleaver used to check it out because this was his patrol route. Said he could find nothing. He thought Grissom was starting to lose it.”
“So that’s why the sheriff was out here?”
Cara nodded. “He decided he’d take this one. His wife, Maureen, called me this morning and said he never came home.”
“Radio?”
“Silent.”
They drove further in their own silence as Kane’s mind ran through numerous scenarios that may have befallen the lawman.
Negotiating the landscape of low ridges, rocks, and cactus, the Tahoe threw up a plume of dust behind it into the mid-morning sky. Some of the ridges were dotted with copper-colored rocky crags that looked more like giant walls.
Dropping down into a wash, the Tahoe rumbled across a layer of rocks, then spun its wheels up the other side until it crested, and the terrain leveled out a bit
Ten minutes more of rugged punishment found them topping a ridge that overlooked a flat expanse about a mile square. In the center of it was the home of Cyrus Grissom. Beside the house sat the sheriff’s SUV.
Cara brought the Tahoe to a halt, and they both climbed out. All was quiet, and immediately the hair on the back of Kane’s neck stood up. He studied the ground while Cara checked the sheriff’s vehicle.
“There was another vehicle here, Cara,” Kane called out to her and motioned to the marks in the dust.
She walked over to where he stood and looked down.
Kane stared at the front of the house. The screen, as well as the main door, were open. There was no sign of movement. He started to wish he’d brought his H&K.
“Have you got a spare gun in that SUV of yours, Cara?” Kane asked.
The mention of the word was enough to cause her to drop her hand to the sidearm at her hip. “I’ve got a Smith and Wesson M&P in a lockbox in the back,” she reached into her pocket and tossed him the keys. Kane returned to the Tahoe and found the lockbox. He opened it, took out the gun and checked its load. Then he closed the box, locked it, and joined Cara.
“How do you want to play this?” he asked her. “You want me to go around the rear?”
Cara shook her head and drew her own sidearm. “I want you watching my back.”
They walked forward at a steady pace and up the stairs. Once they reached the top Cara paused. “Look there.”
Kane glanced to where she was pointing and saw the dried blood. His eyes followed the trail in through the door. Cara brought up her gun and said, “Moving, Reaper.”
It was like someone had flicked a switch. Suddenly, Kane was a marine again, and he was at a house which had to be cleared. He reached out, touched Cara’s shoulder, and set her on her way.
As soon as they entered the hallway, the stench of death assailed their nostrils. Cara halted and brought up a hand to try and block the smell. “Shit!”
“Keep going, Cara. We’ll clear these front rooms first.”
Cara moved past the first door on her left and stopped. Kane tried the doorknob and felt it give. He entered the room, gun raised. Apart from a messed-up bed, it was empty. “Clear.”
They moved to the door on the right. Again, it was empty. “Clear.”
That left the room at the end of the hall.
Kane touched Cara once more, and she moved on. She entered the dining room and gasped. “Oh, Christ.”
When Kane saw the two bodies, a shiver ran down his spine. Both corpses were seated at the table. Their arms outstretched on the scarred surface. Flies buzzed thickly in the air and swarmed over the posed bodies. The scent of already-rotting flesh filled the room.
“Who would do this?” Cara breathed, horrified.
Kane stared at the body of Sheriff Smythe. His uniform shirt was coated in blood. His hands were a mottled blue color, fingers swollen like fat sausages. Grissom’s body was much the same way, except for one notable difference. It still had a head.
Cara swallowed hard. “I have to radio this in.”
“It might pay to leave out some of the details,” Kane pointed out.
She nodded dumbly. “I’ll be right back. Don’t touch anything.”
A normal man would probably have followed her. But Kane had seen horrors that no ordinary man had. The battlefield was a brutal place.
Kane walked around the room but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Then he walked through to the kitchen. That was where he found the head.
It sat on a plate on the kitchen bench. The eyes had been gouged out and stuffed into the mouth. The ears had been removed and lay next to the head like some bizarre side dish.
The sight left Kane with a bad taste in his mouth and made him want to spit. He hawked and was about to let it go on the floor when he realized that it was probably a bad idea. He glanced about and saw a closed door at the rear of the kitchen. He walked over to it and turned the knob.
The door opened, and Kane walked through. He stomped down steps that led out the back and breathed in deep gulps of fresh air.
“Shit,” he muttered and spat into the dirt.
He raised his head and sucked in another deep breath through his nose. That was when he saw it. On a ridge about a mile and a half from the house. A flash, a brief glint of sunlight off something shiny. In another world, Kane’s immediate thought would be of a sniper. But this wasn’t that world. This was different.
The breeze sprang up, lifting a small cloud of dust and grit from the desert floor. It peppered his face, and when he wiped the troublesome stuff from his eyes, he saw the flash was gone.
However, it didn’t mean that the person or persons who’d been on the rock-strewn ridge were. Casually Kane turned and walked back towards the house. He climbed the steps and returned to the kitchen where he found Cara. She had a horrified expression on her face as she stared at the head.
“Bastards,” she spat, venom lacing her voice. “Fucking bastards.”
“Cara?”
Her stare never wavered.
He tried again. “Cara?”
She never even glanced in his direction.
“Lieutenant!”
Her head snapped around, and he could see the anguish in her eyes. “I know this isn’t easy, Cara, but you need to compartmentalize this. Someone is watching the house. Watching us.”
Cara’s gaze flickered. “What? Where?”
“There’s a ridge about a mile and a half southwest of here. Whoever it is has found a home in the rocks about halfway up it.”
“Did you see them?”
Kane shook his head. “All I saw was the flash of sunlight on something metal or glass. My guess is field glasses. How far to the border from here?”
“About five miles.”
“How long before someone arrives?”
“Cleaver was coming straight out. The ME will be with him. I also told him to inform the border patrol and have them send people out here as well. There’ll possibly be State Troopers or even the FBI.”
“You think it was illegals who did this?” Kane asked.
“It’s possible. It could be a Coyote,” Cara said, using the term for the guides who brought illegals across the border.
“I would have thought once the Coyote’s job was done, he’d have slipped back over the border. Not taken the time to do something like this.”
Cara shrugged. “I guess we won’t know until it’s been investigated thoroughly.”
“Come on, let’s get outside. I’ve had enough of the stink.”
They walked out to the Tahoe, and Kane asked her, “Will you be all right here on your own?”
For a moment, she looked alarmed but gathered herself and said, “Are you going somewhere?”
“About a mile and a half.”
“The hell you are,” Cara snapped when she realized what he intended to do.
“I’ll be fine. I just want to go and look around, see what I can find. Whoever was there will probably be gone anyway.”
“I’ll come with you.”
He shook his head. “I said I’ll be fine. Remember, this is what I do.”
“Used to do,” she pointed out.
“I’ve still got it.”
She sighed. “OK. But wait one.”