by Brent Towns
“OK. I hope it works out.”
“It will, have faith.” He turned to Brooke. “Reynolds, tell Hawk to keep an eye on them.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Reaper, finish getting ready. You need to be over the border before dark.”
Kane nodded, and once Ferrero was gone, he asked Reynolds, “Did you guys get some shots of the terrain around the road I asked about?”
“Sure did. I gave them to Billings to look over a while back. Those and an aerial shot of the old bank and its surrounds.”
Kane said. “Thanks.”
He went to turn away, but she stopped him. Without taking her eyes from her screen, she asked, “How does it feel?”
“What feel?”
“Being back in the saddle, so to speak.”
“I’ll tell you once the mission is over.”
Reynolds turned to face him and gave him a serious stare. “Take care out there.”
Kane gave her his best smile. “We’ll be fine. After all, we’ll have our eye in the sky.”
Inside the Montoya Compound
Senator Mac McCarthy sat on the sofa opposite Montoya, with Salazar seated in a large chair to his left. There were only the three of them; McCarthy’s protection squad were outside in the courtyard.
The Senator toyed with his half glass of whiskey and then took a sip.
“What brings you across the border, Senator?” Montoya asked. “Such visits from you are quite rare.”
His lined face grew hard. “I heard from one of my many acquaintances in the capital about a new team being formed to target you especially, Juan. I figured you would like to know about it.”
Montoya waved the information away. “Your government has tried many times to come after me. I am still here.”
“Not like this, Juan. This time it is different. After what happened with the sheriff from Retribution, they’ve hand-picked a team especially for the job.”
Montoya studied his face and could see that the senator was genuinely troubled. “Tell me about this team.”
McCarthy reached for his briefcase. “I can do one better. I have files on them. It’s not much but should be enough.”
He opened it up and passed a couple of manilla folders across to the cartel boss. Montoya studied them in silence and after he’d finished with each file, passed it over to Salazar.
Montoya looked up and stabbed a finger at the file on his lap. He said, “Tell me about this Ferrero.”
“He’s a good operator. Career DEA. Worked in Columbia for years. One of the men in his team worked with him there as part of a covert marine recon team. Kane.”
Salazar flicked through the files Montoya had given him until he found Kane’s. He opened it and stared down at the picture. He said, “I know this man.”
Montoya’s head swiveled, and he gave the sicario a questioning look.
“He was there. At the gringo place where I killed the sheriff. He came with the woman deputy.”
Salazar paused and riffled through the files again and found the one on Cara. He held it up. “This is her.”
Montoya still showed nonchalance. “Why should I worry? I am here in Sonora. They cannot touch me.”
“You still don’t get it, Juan. They’ve been given the green light to cross the damned border anytime they want.”
Montoya’s voice grew harsh. “If they cross the border to come after me, then I will bury them here. Who do they think they are to come to my country and try to stop me? Don’t they know that I am untouchable?”
For a moment, McCarthy saw the flash of craziness in the cartel boss’ eyes, and it made him nervous. He leaned forward and placed the glass of whiskey onto the coffee table. “I’ll be going. I only came to warn you about what was happening.”
Montoya stood erect. He held out his hand. “Thank you for this information. I will be sure to put a little extra into my next donation to your upcoming campaign.”
“My campaign thanks you.”
They all went outside, and McCarthy and his entourage climbed into their vehicles. Montoya turned to Salazar. “I want you to find out more about this team the gringos have sent against me.”
“Sí, Jefe.”
The SUVs pulled out of the compound and started their rough passage over the corrugations in the gravel road. Dust spewed from their rear, and the one carrying McCarthy lurched over a deep hole when the cell in his pocket began to buzz. He reached inside and checked the lit screen. Frowning when he didn’t recognize the number, he pressed answer.
With the cell up to his ear, McCarthy spoke with a hesitant voice, “Hello?”
“Hello, Senator McCarthy, how’s your day going so far? All is well I trust?”
“Who is this?”
“Someone who wants to chat with you in person.”
McCarthy snapped impatiently, “Make an appointment like the rest of my constituents do.”
“It is rather urgent. I don’t think it would be too far out of your way to come visit me.”
The senator’s voice was brusque. “I’m sorry. I’m not in Texas at the moment.”
“Neither am I, Senator. How about when you cross back over the border from your visit with Juan Montoya, you swing by Retribution, Arizona so we can have that chat.”
McCarthy’s blood ran cold. “Ferrero,” he breathed.
“That’s good, you know me. Saves on the introductions. Just so you understand, if you don’t comply with what I’ve asked you to do, or if you try to turn around and run, there is a Predator drone above you this very minute, armed with two Hellfire missiles. I will not hesitate to use them.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” he snarled, the venom in his voice thick. “I’m a fucking United States Senator.”
“And I don’t give two shits what you are. You’ve got ten seconds to make up your mind. After that, you won’t have a mind left.”
McCarthy’s jaw set firm. “Go ahead.”
“Five seconds, Senator.”
“Fuck you!”
With McCarthy listening on, Ferrero said, “Bravo One, bring the first Hellfire online.”
“Copy.”
Then a female voice said, “First missile coming online now.”
“Let me know when you’re ready.”
“Target acquired.”
McCarthy’s eyes started to roll in his head as fear gripped his heart and began to squeeze it in a vice-like grip. The son of a bitch was actually going to do it.
“Fi—”
“Wait! All right! All right, I’ll do it.”
“I’ll be expecting you, Senator. I think you know where to find us.”
When the line went dead, he threw the cell onto the floor of the SUV and shouted, “Fuck!”
“Is everything all right, Senator?” asked the man in the front passenger seat.
“No, it damn well isn’t!” he snapped. “We’re making a detour. Take us to Retribution, Arizona.”
Retribution
“Would you really have done it, sir?” Reynolds asked Ferrero.
“Damned straight, Reynolds. One thing I can’t stand is a turncoat, corrupt son of a bitch like that.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Get me the FBI Phoenix office. I want them here before McCarthy shows.”
Chapter 13
Retribution
The two dust-coated SUVs screeched to a stop outside the old furniture store late in the afternoon. The orange sunset had spread itself across the Arizona desert and turned it a luminescent copper color, the sky streaked with purple. Within the hour, the sun would be gone, and the desert chill would fill the air.
The protection detail stepped out first, followed by the senator himself. Ferrero walked outside, and the detail immediately drew their sidearms.
The DEA agent held up his hands. “Now, gentlemen, how about you put your guns away. I only want to talk to your boss.”
They glanced at McCarthy, and he nodded. The four men holstered their weapons.
&
nbsp; Ferrero grinned. “That’s better. Follow me, Senator.”
McCarthy stepped forward and was followed by the four-man detail. The DEA agent raised his hand. “Not you, gentlemen. You stay here.”
The senator stopped almost mid-stride. “They go where I go.”
Ferrero shook his head. “Nope.”
“Then we’re done here,” McCarthy snapped. “Shoot him.”
“I’d take a look at this before you do anything untoward, Senator,” Ferrero said and held out the cell in his hand.
McCarthy stepped forward hesitantly to where the agent waited and took the cell from his grasp. He stared at the picture on it. One of himself and Montoya in the courtyard of the cartel leader’s compound. Without a word, he passed it back.
“Shall we try again, Senator?”
McCarthy motioned for the escort to stand down and followed Ferrero inside the building. He was amazed at the setup that the small team had. Computer panels, multiple monitors. One of which had a FLIR, (forward-looking infrared radiometer), picture on it with telemetry changing constantly and crosshairs at its center. The picture itself showed a large building in a semi-populated area. Seated in front of the monitors were a man and woman.
“Where’s that?” McCarthy asked curiously.
“Nogales,” Ferrero said.
“I presume that what you are doing is sanctioned?”
“You knew who I was, and where I was, Senator. Work it out for yourself.”
“May I ask what you are doing with a drone over Nogales?”
“Sure. We’ve got a team on the ground, and we’re going to steal Montoya’s money that he keeps in the building on screen.”
Shock appeared on McCarthy’s face. “You’re going to commit a crime on foreign soil?”
“We aim to do more than that,” Ferrero stated.
“I can’t believe that Washington would give you permission to do such a thing.”
“The war on the cartels has just escalated thanks to your friend Montoya, Senator. Quite frankly, the leaders in Washington have had enough. What we are doing here is a test case. If it proves successful, then I assume that we’ll be unleashed on the rest. Now, let’s get to you. What is your relationship with Montoya?”
McCarthy thought about lying but shrugged his shoulders and said, “He’s donated millions to my campaign fund over the past few years.”
“What does he get in return?”
“Information basically. A man in my position hears things.”
“Such as?”
“Intelligence on upcoming missions and such. Only those who would directly affect Montoya.”
His comments gave Ferrero pause for thought. After a few heartbeats, the DEA agent said, “That was why you were there, wasn’t it? You were passing on information about this team.”
McCarthy shrugged.
“Who else knows about you and Montoya?”
“Only the escort I use.”
“Who are they? Stay Safe?”
McCarthy nodded. “Is there anything else you want to know?”
“Nope, I think that’ll do. You can leave now.”
The senator frowned. He stared at Ferrero and asked, “Just like that?”
Ferrero nodded.
McCarthy took a hesitant step. He looked back at Ferrero who ushered him towards the door. The senator kept walking, the DEA agent behind him. They exited the building, and McCarthy came to an abrupt halt. Standing before him in the manmade light was a gaggle of FBI agents. Handcuffed against the black SUVs stood the senator’s security detail. He turned back to look at Ferrero. “I knew it was too easy.”
The agent in command of the FBI detail came forward and put cuffs on McCarthy. He stared at Ferrero and nodded.
“You get all that?” the DEA agent asked.
“Sure did.”
“Good. I’ve got work to do.”
“Thanks, Luis.”
“Just get him the hell out of here.”
Nogales
“Bravo One? Reaper One, how copy? Over.”
“Read you five by five, Reaper One,” Reynolds confirmed.
“What’s our eye in the sky see, Bravo One?”
“All clear, ready to start the mission when you are.”
The night was quiet. It was after one a.m., and the cool desert air was well and truly upon them. The sky was a cloudless, moonless blanket above them, and Kane checked his silenced HK416 to make sure it was in full working order.
“You ready, Traynor?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
Both wore tactical vests and night-vision gear. Like Kane, Traynor was armed with a silenced HK416.
“Reaper Two? Reaper One, are you set? Over.”
“Roger, Reaper One,” Cara came back.
Cara had picked the rooftop of an abandoned building to the northeast of the target to set up her sniper nest. It gave her a clear field of fire to the front of the building that housed Montoya’s money. She was armed with an M110 with a night-capable scope mounted on top.
“Reaper One, this is Zero.”
“Go ahead.”
“Remember, engage only those with weapons. I don’t want any civilians getting shot by accident.”
“Copy, Zero.” There was a short pause, and Kane said, “Reaper Two, commence.”
“Copy, Reaper.”
Suddenly, in quick succession, the only two streetlights were blown out, shattered by 7.62 bullets from the silenced M110, cloaking the street in darkness. Glass fell to the street like rain, the tinkling sound reaching Kane’s ears.
Kane dropped the night-vision goggles over his eyes. Everything turned green. Before he moved, Kane said, “Bravo Three? Reaper One. How are we looking?”
“All clear, Reaper One.”
“Copy. Moving.”
Kane raised the silenced HK and moved towards the rundown bank. Behind him, Traynor moved with silent strides. They kept to the shadows, and once they reached the building, the DEA agent took a knee to cover the street while Kane placed the C-4.
As Kane set the charge, he said, “Sitrep, Reaper Two.”
“All clear.”
“Bravo Three?”
“All clear.”
Once the charge was set, Kane said, “Charge set. Reaper One and Three moving.”
“Copy.”
When they were out of range, Kane stopped, and they both took cover behind a crumbling adobe wall. He retrieved the detonator switch from a pocket in his tactical vest and armed the C-4 charge. “Fire in the hole.”
The blast rolled along the deserted street while a gout of orange flame shot across it from the explosion. The charge ripped the old door from its rusted hinges and blew it into the building.
“That’ll get their attention,” Kane muttered. Then louder, “Call when you see them coming in. Switching on strobes.”
The strobes would make them visible to the team back at base. If things got confused on the ground, Reynolds and Teller would be able to pick them out.
“Copy.”
“Strobes on, Bravo One. We are moving.”
Kane and Traynor moved forward once more to the wrecked doorway of the bank. “Copy, we see three strobes.”
“Reaper One? Bravo Three, copy?” Teller said.
“Copy, Bravo Three.”
“We’re starting to see movement at your twelve o’clock. Three armed Tangos closing your position.”
The two men settled in the doorway and prepared to meet the cartel men. “Copy, Bravo Three. Have you got them, Reaper Two?”
“Copy.”
Through her night-vision scope, Cara could see the three cartel men running towards the old bank, unaware of the waiting danger. When they reached the front of the building, Cara fired her first shot.
The bullet hit, and the cartel man gave a violent shudder before slumping to the ground without a sound.
“Target down. Shifting aim.”
The M110 fired again, and the second cartel man dropped. “Sec
ond Tango down.”
Before Cara could move her aim again, Kane’s laser sight centered on the last man, and he squeezed the trigger. One shot, one kill. “Last Tango down.”
“Reaper One? Bravo Three. You now have multiple Tangos inbound your position.”
“Call them out, Bravo Three.”
“Targets inbound at your twelve, two, and six o’clock,” Teller instructed.
“Traynor, take the targets at six,” Kane ordered.
“Copy. Bravo Three how many Tangos? Over.”
“Reaper Three, you have two, repeat, two armed Tangos at your six o’clock.”
“Copy.”
“Reaper Two? Reaper One. Do you have eyes on the Tangos at our twelve?”
“Copy, Reaper,” Cara confirmed. “So far, I count six, confirm Bravo Three?”
Teller’s voice came over the comms. “Confirm, Reaper Two. The count is six. Reaper One? You should have two more appear at your two o’clock in three … two … one.”
Kane’s laser sight settled on the first cartel man who appeared from behind a building along the street to the right. Through the NVGs, it appeared as a ramrod straight beam like in some sci-fi movie. As soon as it touched the chest of the first cartel man, Kane fired.
The target dropped, and Kane shifted aim and fired again. This time, however, when the mortally wounded narco stiffened he squeezed the trigger of his weapon, and it rattled off a full magazine of ammunition before he hit the pavement.
The bullets sprayed into the air, some hammering into the building adjacent to the one past that they’d emerged. Behind him, Kane heard Traynor open fire at the ones at their six o’clock.
“Six is secure, Reaper,” he said in a monotone voice.
“Reaper One? Reaper Two. You copy?”
“Go ahead, Cara.”
“Two more Tangos down at your twelve. But they’re still coming. You should be able to see them shortly.”
Suddenly the night erupted with the staccato sound of AKs. To the trained ear, they were unmistakable.
“Reaper Two, are you taking fire? Over.”
“Negative.”
“Bravo Three to all Reaper callsigns. You now have multiple, repeat, multiple targets converging on your positions. Estimate twenty-plus Tangos. Looks like that burst of fire woke them up.”