by Brent Towns
Instantly, a squad of four heavily-armed men rushed for the house while the rest concentrated their fire on the gunmen atop the roof.
Cruz and his men had almost made it when two cartel men armed with Striker 12-gauge shotguns equipped with twenty-round revolving magazines, appeared. It was a slaughter as they fired load after load into the soldiers. Their tactical vests might have stopped the lead pellets, but their heads offered no such resistance.
Arenas watched on in horror, and then anger began to consume him. He brought up his FX-05 and shot the first shotgun wielder in the head. He shifted aim and sighted on the second. He was about to squeeze the trigger when a shout from behind one of the other vehicles drew his attention.
“RPG!”
Arenas looked up at the roof in time to see a cartel man with an RPG-7 fire it. With a roar, the rocket streaked forward, leaving behind a white contrail. It hit the third SUV in line which exploded in a large orange ball of flame. Three men sheltering behind it were engulfed in the pyrotechnic display and died within milliseconds.
The special forces commander ground his teeth together. His men were dying because some fucking puta had betrayed them.
Another shout signaled the next RPG round. He saw it and yelled, “Shoot him before he fires it!”
Gunfire raked the edge of the flat roof, but it was no use. The RPG roared, and two more men died as the next vehicle in line exploded.
Arenas ducked down behind his SUV as bullets rattled along the far side of it. He glanced down the line. Orange flames leaped skyward from the two burning hulks. He’d brought twenty men with him. Now, he’d be lucky if there were a handful left.
“Carlos, this is Santiago, do you read? Over.”
Ruiz Santiago commanded another of Arenas’ squads. “I hear you, Ruiz, over.”
“We need to pull back, Carlos. Before we are all killed.”
“It is too late, Ruiz,” Arenas replied. “Whoever betrayed us has already seen to that.”
Silence.
“Break! Break! Break! This is Bravo Three calling Mexican force commander on the ground. Do you copy? Over.”
Arenas frowned. Americans?
Retribution
“Damn it, Luis, we have to help them. They’re getting slaughtered!” Kane demanded after the first RPG blew up the SUV.
“My hands are tied, Reaper. We were ordered to stand down.”
Kane swore savagely. “Fuck that, Ferrero. They’ll all die unless we do something. You’ve got a UAV in the air.”
“Reaper –”
Kane never took his eyes from Ferrero when he said, “Teller, does that UAV have a Hellfire attached to it?”
“It has two, Reaper.”
“It’ll all be over in a few minutes if we do nothing, boss,” Cara joined in. “They just lost another vehicle.”
“Get them some help, Luis,” said Traynor.
Hawk was next. “Do it!”
Kane’s voice softened. “Come on, Luis. They’re the good guys.”
Ferrero shook his head. “Shit. Swift, can we break into their signal?”
“Already done it.”
A wry smile touched Ferrero’s lips. “Teller, it’s all yours.”
“Yes, sir.”
Kane nodded. “Thanks, Luis.”
“Break! Break! Break! This is Bravo Three calling Mexican force commander on the ground. Do you copy? Over.”
Sonora
“This is Capitán Primero Carlos Arenas. I read you loud and clear, over.”
“You look like you could use some help there, Captain,” the American voice crackled. “Tell your men to keep their heads down. We have a special delivery on the way.”
“A special delivery?”
“A Hellfire missile, Captain. It should be there in eight seconds.”
Arenas’ eyes grew wide. He shouted into the mic. “Everybody, get down! Get down! Get down!
And then the Hellfire hit.
Montoya’s house exploded outward. Those cartel men on the roof who weren’t incinerated by the blast were thrown from their positions onto the ground below.
Orange flames shot through the windows after they blew out, and heat washed over the few special forces soldiers that remained alive. The concussive wave hit Arenas a solid blow even though he was behind the SUV.
Debris started to rain down on them, but what the special forces commander would never forget was the ringing in his ears. The blast had been deafening.
It took a few moments before Arenas realized that the American was calling him again on the radio.
“Bravo Three, calling Captain Arenas, come in, over.”
“I’m here,” he groaned.
“You all still alive down there?”
Arenas looked around and saw the remnants of his crew trying to gather themselves. Then he realized something else. The gunfire had stopped.
“I think we are all fine, thank you. Who are you?”
“Glad you’re all OK, Captain. Our indications are that the cartel men are all gone. The missile we fired took them out. Best of luck. Bravo Three, out.”
“Wait –” But he was too late. Whoever had come to their rescue, was gone.
Chapter 19
Retribution
The video conference was up on the big screen. It was split into three sections which consisted of the two attorneys-general, the chairman of the joint chiefs, and the secretary of state, and one very pissed-off president.
“How about someone tells me what the fuck happened?” he thundered from behind his desk.
“Which part, sir?” asked Ferrero.
“Oh, I don’t know. How about we start with how the DEA administrator got killed, or even the fact that the Mexicans launched a raid without our knowledge. Or the fact that we launched a fucking missile into that compound without permission!”
Kane said, “The first part is easy, Mr. President. Horton got killed because we were left sitting around playing with our dicks! The same thing would have happened to the Mexicans if we hadn’t intervened.”
Muir blanched, Assistant Attorney General Mike Turner shook his head, and Ferrero remained straight-faced. Carter, on the other hand, turned a different shade of red.
“Who the hell are you?” he roared.
“Kane.”
“You don’t speak until I tell you to.”
“Yes, sir. But first, would you tell me what dick decided it was a good idea to tell the Mexican government about Horton before we had a chance to get him back? Especially when their ranks are filled with men owned by the cartels.”
“That dick would be me,” Carter said through clenched teeth. But then he sighed and said, “It would seem like you’re hellbent on speaking your mind, Mr. Kane. Let’s get it over with.”
“You told the Mexican government, sir, then you are partly to blame for Horton’s death.”
“Kane,” Attorney General William Bell cautioned him.
Carter held up his hand. “No, let him speak.”
“We had a window, sir. A chance of getting Horton back. Montoya wasn’t going to kill him straight away. He wanted to make an example of it. But just before the attack, there was a phone call from an outside source. We know this because our tech guy found it. That was when he killed Horton. The call was the warning about the inbound special forces team. And that was why they were slaughtered.”
For a moment, the president didn’t know what to say. He leaned back in his chair, and Muir whispered something in his ear. Once they were done, he said, “Is your tech guy there?”
“Yes, sir.”
Kane stepped back for Swift to move in. “Mr. President.”
“Is what Mr. Kane said true?”
“Yes, sir. The call came from Mexico City.”
“Thank you.”
“Yes, sir.”
Carter nodded. “All right. Who ordered the missile strike?”
Ferrero lifted his chin. “I did, sir.”
“My orders weren’t cle
ar on that one, Mr. Ferrero?”
“Very clear, sir.”
“Good. You’re fired.”
Kane looked as though he was about to come through the monitor, but Ferrero stayed him with a hand. “That team would have died to a man had we done nothing, sir. They arrived twenty strong. When it was over, there were five. Ask their commander what he thinks about our intervention.”
Carter shook his head. “You disobeyed a direct order, did you not? You blew the crap out of Montoya’s house and didn’t even get him. Am I right, General Jones?”
General Hank Jones, chairman of the joint chiefs, nodded. “Our intel says that he isn’t there, sir.”
“We can find him, sir,” Kane interjected.
“How do you propose to do that, Mr. Kane?”
“I’d like to know that myself,” Muir put in.
“By going to the source of that call.”
Carter raised his eyebrows. “Mexico City?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You know who made the call? Is that what you’re saying?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Who?”
“Ferdinand Morales.”
“Oh, shit!” Muir blurted out.
“This is a bad idea, Kane,” A-G Bell put in.
Carter leaned forward once more in his chair and stared directly into the camera. “You’re telling me that you want to go after the secretary of foreign affairs of Mexico?”
Kane’s face never altered.
“Yes, sir.”
“Damn, man. You’ve got some big balls. How do you propose to accomplish such lunacy?”
“With the help of an insider, sir. I would go and take one of my team with me. We would question him, get the information we require, and then leave.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that.”
“And if you get the information you require?”
“Then, with your permission, we go after Montoya and Salazar,” Kane confirmed.
Carter sighed. “I like you, Mr. Kane. You’re not afraid to say what you think no matter what the consequences. All right put your plan into action. Just remember this, if it goes wrong, then you’re on your own.”
“One more thing, sir.”
“Yes?”
“A team is only as good as the man running it.”
Carter hesitated. “All right. Mr. Ferrero, you’re back in. Whether or not you stay in depends on how the team performs. Hell, if they perform badly, you’re all out. Good day, gentlemen.”
The president’s screen went blank.
The general cleared his throat. “Could I have a quick word, gentlemen, please? Ferrero and Kane, I mean.”
Bell and Turner nodded. Turner said, “Keep me up to speed, gentlemen.” And then they too disappeared.
“Fire away, General Jones,” Ferrero said.
“First off, gentlemen, I admire what you’re all doing. I think taking the fight to the cartel’s doorstep is just what this country needs.”
“Thank you, General,” Ferrero said.
“I also admired the way you didn’t take a backward step, Gunny. Takes some balls to stand up against the president the way you did, for your commander.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Now that is out of the way, I want to offer you, gentlemen, anything you need to help with your operation. Choppers, men, planes, any intel avenues you need, hell I’ll give you the whole U.S. Navy if you require it. Anything at all, you call direct to me. I knew Rich Horton from a long way back. So, if you need it, just holler.”
Ferrero nodded. “Thank you, General.”
“I don’t offer it lightly. I’ve done my research into your whole team. I know who did what, where, and how they went about it. Before I go, is there anything at all?”
Ferrero said, “Not at the moment, I don’t think, General.”
“Gunny?”
“Do you have any contacts in the Mexican military, sir?”
Jones frowned. “A few.”
“Could you maybe get someone sent across the border, say, as a liaison?”
“I presume you have someone in mind?”
“Yes, sir,” Kane confirmed. “Capitán Primero Carlos Arenas.”
“Someone special?”
“He was the commander of the special forces team from the raid on Montoya’s compound.”
“Consider it done, Gunny.”
“Thank you, sir.”
The screen went blank, and Ferrero turned to Kane. “If you ever speak to the president of The United States like that again, you’re out. You hear?”
Kane’s face remained passive. “You’re welcome.”
Ferrero ignored it. “What’s your plan for Arenas?”
“I figure he can get us in and out of Mexico City.”
“You figure he’s mad enough to do so?”
“Wouldn’t you be?”
“Point taken.”
Ferrero walked off, and Cara approached Kane. “Which one of us do you think is crazy enough to go with you?”
He looked into her brown eyes and smiled. “I thought you might be up for it.”
She reached up and jabbed his chest with a straight finger. Her eyes flashed when she said, “I’m up for anything.”
Kane returned her smile. “I bet you are.”
She nodded and poked him again. “Uh huh. Unlike some people I know.”
“You’d best watch that finger of yours.”
“Oh yeah,” it came forward again.
Before the appendage even touched him, Kane moved swiftly, and Cara found herself facing the other way, strong arms wrapped around her and unable to move.
“You’re quick,” she acknowledged.
“Uh huh.” He was suddenly all too aware of her firm body against him. He whispered in her ear, “I need a shower.”
Kane released her and headed for the door. Cara smiled to herself as she watched him go. Then she said in a hoarse voice, “Me too.”
Cara traced a finger over the scar on Kane’s chest and said, “The next time we do this we don’t use your room. Your shower is too small to be doing shit like that.”
“I was quite happy having a shower until you came along,” he said with a smile. “Nice tattoo on your ass by the way.”
Cara’s face reddened. “Drunk Saturday night in Tokyo.”
“Why would you get Daisy Duck?”
“It was a bet, OK?”
“I bet your husband loved it?”
“He did, actually.”
Silence descended over the naked couple. Kane stared at the ceiling while Cara had her head resting on his chest, listening to his strong heartbeat.
Kane asked, “What was his name?”
“Byron.”
He chuckled. “Was there a Lord in front of that?”
Her hand slid in a swift movement and grabbed his left nipple between thumb and forefinger. She gave it a savage twist.
“Ouch, shit!”
“You’re awful, John Kane.”
His face grew serious. “What happened, Cara?”
Her voice turned somber as she recalled. “We were living in Phoenix at the time. I was deployed. Byron and Jimmy were at home, and Jimmy finished the last carton of milk in the refrigerator. Byron went out to get more and never came home. It took Jimmy a long time to get over it. He blamed himself.”
“Tough.”
“Yeah. What about you, why did you get out?”
“Figured it was time. Saw too many good men die, good friends.”
“So, you went private?”
“Seemed like a good thing at the time.”
“And now you’re here.”
Kane sighed. “And now I’m here.”
Cara rolled over and climbed out of the bed. Kane watched her and smiled to himself when he saw the way the tattoo came to life when her lithe body moved.
“You’re staring at my ass, aren’t you?”
“Nooo.”
“Liar.”
“Where are you going?”
“For another shower,” she called over her shoulder.
“Wait for me.”
Kane scrambled from the bed and stood up. The ripple of his taut back muscles animated the large tattoo there with each movement. The detailed artwork covered a considerable quantity of his skin, from shoulders to waist, and depicted a skull inside the hood of a cloak, smiling evilly. It held up a sickle, and the wicked blade curved around the back of its head. Bony hands held the wooden shaft of the deadly weapon while its ragged apparel seemed to be flickering in the wind.
It was the only tattoo Kane had. The one which gave him his name.
It was the Reaper.
Retribution, Three days later
The sand-colored military Humvee came to a halt outside the warehouse, and a young corporal emerged from the front passenger side then opened and held the rear door, waiting for their guest to climb out.
Capitán Primero Carlos Arenas slid from the seat and stood erect under the hot Arizona sun. Gone was all his tactical gear from the other day. As too were his helmet and balaclava, allowing his square-jawed face and short-cropped black hair to be exposed.
He let his brown eyes wander over the rundown building before him and wondered what on earth he’d been sent to.
Normally, after a disaster such as had occurred at the Montoya compound, there would have been weeks of inquiries to front, because blame had to be laid somewhere. More than likely with him, for he was the mission commander.
But instead, three days later, here he was, sent north of the border to act as a liaison. He snorted. Liaison to what? Perhaps this was his punishment.
The corporal dumped his duffel bag beside him, and without a word, climbed back in the Humvee, and it drove off.
“Captain Arenas?”
Arenas looked at the doorway and saw a man standing there.
“Yes.”
“I’m Swift. Follow me, sir.”
Arenas retrieved his duffel from the dust and followed the man inside the building. Once he’d entered, he stopped and stared at the size of the setup. Impressive.
“Over this way, sir,” Swift said.