by Brent Towns
Multiple barrels of chemicals, unprocessed coca leaves, two pallets of processed coke, a long row of stainless-steel tables, and on and on and on. Everything that was needed.
“Fuck me,” Traynor gasped.
“Yeah. Let’s get these charges set before someone comes along. It should make a nice bang.”
Chapter 22
Team 2, That same time
Arenas and Hawk stopped on level five while Cara and Axe continued their ascent. When the special forces officer cracked the door from the stairwell to look, relieved at the silence of his action, he saw two guards, their backs turned, no more than ten feet along the hall. Just past them, the area opened out into a large room, which, from what he could see, seemed to occupy most of the floor. He closed the door quietly and turned to Hawk.
The special forces commander used hand signals to indicate his intentions and convey instructions to the DEA man. Hawk nodded his assent, and Arenas faced the door. He held up a hand, slowly counting backward to one. When the last finger dropped, Arenas pushed the door open.
The special forces officer had only moved two steps into the hallway when he fired his first burst. The guard jerked and cried out before he fell. Arenas switched his aim immediately and dropped the second guard. The spent bullet cases clinked onto the white-tiled floor, the echo seeming overly loud.
Without a missed step, Arenas continued his forward motion. Behind him, Hawk moved to the left side of the hallway, HK raised and ready.
Poking his head around the corner of where the hall opened out, a skinhead guard with facial tattoos and piercings had a heartbeat to realize that something was wrong, before Hawk killed him with a bullet to the head, the ruptured skull emitting a red shower.
A woman’s scream echoed throughout the room.
Team two pushed forward into the larger room, Arenas sweeping the right of the space, Hawk concentrating on the left.
There were three more men in the opulent suite. Two were tattooed in a similar fashion to the one Hawk had shot. The other was dressed in a white suit, and when he laid eyes on the interlopers, he screeched;
“Kill them! Kill the fucking dogs!”
Both cartel soldiers tried to get some shots off, their AKMs not quite ready, but the HKs of Arenas and Hawk turned both men’s white singlet-tops into bloody, red rags. They collapsed into untidy heaps, their blood spilling across the tiles in a bright-red pool.
Three women, one of whom had screamed, stood cowering in front of a long sofa, arms wrapped tightly around each other. Montoya side-stepped with urgency, placing the group of women before him, preventing the Reaper men from getting a clear shot.
“Chickenshit fuck,” Hawk cursed at him. “Cowering behind women.”
“Look out!” Arenas shouted.
Montoya produced a handgun and was taking aim at Hawk who had hesitated due to the proximity of the women. The gun cracked, and Hawk cried out as the bullet ripped through the fleshy part of his arm.
Arenas, with little more than a wafer-thin gap between the women to shoot through, never vacillated. The silenced HK416 cracked, and Montoya was spun around. The gun dropped from his ruined arm, and he shouted in pain. Blood began to run from his wounded appendage, staining his formerly pristine white suit.
Pain turned to anger, and the cartel boss screeched. He lunged for the fallen gun with his good hand but was a fraction too slow.
Arenas pushed his way between the women as Montoya was fumbling with his gun, then brought the butt of his carbine down on the back of the cartel boss’ head. He stared down at the slumped form then spit in the unconscious man’s face. “Fucking asshole.”
“Did you kill the son of a bitch?” Hawk growled.
Arenas glanced in his direction and saw the DEA man still standing but bleeding on the floor. He shook his head. The special forces commander toggled his mic. “Zero? Reaper Two. We have the package, over.”
“Copy, Reaper Two. You have the package. Out.”
Eagle Team
When Cara and Axe reached the door onto the roof, they stopped. Cara whispered into her comms. “Bravo Three? Eagle One. Sitrep on Tangos, rooftop, over.”
“Copy, Eagle One. You have Tangos at left and right front corners, over.”
“Roger. Eagle One, out.”
“Let’s go kill us some bad guys,” Axe growled.
When the door swung open, Cara was faced towards the guard on the right front corner of the building. All she needed to do was aim and fire. Axe had to break left and circle back to take his own target, which is exactly what he did, and approximately three heartbeats after Cara’s target died, his did too.
That wasn’t the end of it, however, and Cara dropped her NVGs into place and let go of her HK. It swung to her side from the shoulder strap, and she quickly unslung the M110Sniper Rifle, looking for her target across the way on the next rooftop.
She picked him out and dispatched him rapidly with one shot, then shifted her aim, finding the next target, replicating her accuracy, one shot, dead.
Cara toggled her mic. “Building two roof-top clear.”
A moment later Axe’s voice came over the comms, “Building three roof-top clear.”
Cara hurried to the front edge of the building and set up her overwatch post. Axe mirrored her actions at the rear, immediately spotting movement at the northside bungalows. Then came the shouts.
Axe said, “Reaper One? Eagle Two. You’ve got multiple Tangos headed your way. Looks like someone raised the alarm.”
“Copy, Eagle Two, we’ll be ready for them.”
Salazar
The sicario slapped home a fully-loaded magazine into the FX-05 Xiuhcoatl and barked at the men running past him. “Make sure they do not escape! Kill anyone who does not belong!”
When the weak call came across the radio, Salazar reacted quickly. Within minutes, he had men out of their beds and moving to meet the threat.
He opened his mouth to issue an order to a cartel soldier when the man’s head erupted blood and brains. The wet gore splashed across his face and took his breath away. Then he realized that the shot had originated from the top of the main building. They were up there too. And that meant Montoya was in danger.
Salazar ducked around the corner of the nearest bungalow and out of sight. He raised a walkie-talkie to his lips and spoke. “Jefe? Come in, Jefe. Are you there?”
There was a drawn-out silence before he tried again. “Jefe, can you hear me?”
The radio crackled to life. “We’ve got your boss, asshole.”
The sicario stared at the radio for a few heartbeats before his face turned to stone, then raised the black transmitter once again and barked more orders.
Tranquilidad Resort
Eagle team
“Break! Break! Break! Bravo Three to all callsigns. Bravo Three to all callsigns,” the radio transmission echoed across the net. “There are multiple groups of Tangos converging on the lab and the main building. Estimate numbers in excess of forty. Looks like the intel was wrong.”
“You fucking think?” Axe’s voice came across the net. “You should see it from where we are.”
Suddenly Ferrero came over the net. “Zero to Eagle One. Over.”
Cara settled the laser sight on a Tango and hit him mid-stride. “Copy, Zero.”
“You have to keep them back until Reaper can blow that damned lab. A large force is converging on his position.”
Cara swore. “Shit! Copy, out. Axe you hear that?”
“Hear it? I’m fucking seeing it,” Axe shouted as he fired, shifted aim, and fired again. “Cara, I need you this side. They’re trying to breach this building too.”
Cara dropped the M110 and took up her HK. She ran across the roof to take up position to Axe’s left. Gunfire rattled from the ground and rounds started to snap and whine as ricochets passed dangerously close.
Through the green haze of her NVGs, Cara saw the cartel soldiers running towards the building. Two waves of them. Upwards of
twenty-five men hellbent on murder.
“Reaper Two? Eagle One. Prepare for incoming contact. I say again, prepare for incoming contact. Out.”
“Copy. Out.”
Cara caught sight of a smaller group that was crossing the helicopter pad. She swung the HK around and fired the M203.
An orange ball of flame exploded amongst them, and they were flung bodily from their feet. A couple of wounded men writhed on the ground while the rest remained motionless.
Cara reloaded and fired again. This one landed closer in amongst the tall palms. Cries of pain reached her ears as the explosion ripped the night. Beside her, she could hear Axe steadily firing at the approaching men.
A bullet whipped past Cara’s face, and she ducked down. She loaded another high-explosive round in the underslung grenade launcher and rose again. She was about to fire when she heard Axe shout, “Fuck! RPG!”
The rocket-propelled grenade came in at three hundred meters per second, and the two team members had little time to react. Both were blown backward when the load impacted just below the lip of the roof.
Cara crashed heavily to the rooftop, the air driven from her lungs with an audible whoosh. Her ears rang from the explosion, and her vision swam in front of her.
She realized someone was tugging at her arm and looked up. Axe looked over her like some Greek Adonis. Through the ringing in her ears, she heard him say, “Come on, Cara, get up. We have to get the fuck back into the fight. Come on. Are you OK?”
Cara allowed him to help her to her feet. “That was close, huh.”
“Too fucking close,” he grunted, wiping at a trickle of blood running down his left arm from just below his shoulder where a sliver of metal had opened it. He also had some leaking from a cut on his cheek.
Cara winced. She too felt blood on her face, and her chest hurt from a where a block of concrete had smashed into her tactical vest. They staggered back to the edge of the roof. Some of the cartel soldiers were vanishing into the building beneath them.
Axe fired a burst from his HK416 down at them but was too slow.
“Shit,” Cara cursed and toggled her mic. “Reaper Two, be aware you have Tangos in the building. I say again, Tangos in the building. Over.”
Arenas came across the net with a simple, “Copy. Out.”
Axe swore once more, and it sounded almost like an exclamation of despair. “Ah, fuck! They’ve got another one.”
He lurched sideways and knocked Cara to the ground, covering her body with his own to await the explosion. This one was different to the last as the RPG used was a Chinese Type-69, loaded with an anti-personnel high-explosive round.
Designed not to explode on impact, but to hit and leap into the air before it blew, which it did, spraying metal balls outward, cutting down anything in its path.
Cara felt the heat wash over her and then felt Axe stiffen on top of her. She heard him grunt and then his hoarse voice, “The bastard got me.”
Cara rolled his heavy form off her and groaned. She said, “Axe, are you OK?”
Nothing.
“Axe, speak to me.”
Nothing.
“Christ,” she swore and toggled her mic. “This is Eagle One. Man down, I say again, man down.”
Team 1
Kane ducked as a bullet snapped close to his head. It flew past and burned into a tree near the lab. He fired a burst at the cartel man who’d tried to kill him and saw the man throw his arms into the air.
By the time the mortally wounded man had hit the ground, Kane had shifted targets and dropped another charging figure with a blazing AK in his hands.
“Come on, Traynor,” he shouted. “Have you got that last one set yet?”
“Almost, Reaper.”
“Shit. Hurry up.”
A sudden explosion erupted at the top of the main building. An orange fireball leaped into the air. RPG, he thought. It was followed by another, and then he heard the call.
“This is Eagle One. Man down, I say again, man down.”
“Damn it! Come on, Traynor, we’ve got to go!”
“I’m done,” he called and slid in beside Kane. “They’re just waiting for you to trigger them.”
Bullets whipped overhead, and foliage rained down around and on them like rice at a wedding. Traynor cursed and sprayed most of a magazine from his HK at a cartel soldier. The man seemed to trip and fall on his nose. However, he’d never rise again as one of the 5.56 rounds had smashed through his chest and all but destroyed his heart.
“Easy on the ammo,” Kane cautioned. “Looks like we’re going to need every bit of it.”
“Reaper One, this is Bravo Three. You need to get your ass out of there before you’re cut off. There are more Tangos advancing from the south.”
Kane glanced to his left and saw a number of figures headed towards them. They opened fire, and he and Traynor were soon taking incoming rounds from two directions. “We’ve gotta move, now.”
The DEA agent sprayed more gunfire at the approaching horde, dropping the empty magazine out before replacing it with a fresh one.
“But where the fuck are we going to go?” he shouted above the noise.
“We can’t stay here,” Kane snapped. “If I blow this lab while we’re still in the blast radius, we’re both fucked.”
Kane ducked as another round snapped close to his head. Then he saw it. The only possible route. “The lagoon.”
“What?”
“Follow me,” Kane snapped and was up and running.
As the pair sprinted towards the lagoon, automatic weapon fire cracked all around them. To their right, a great geyser of sand and dirt blasted into the air amid a flash of orange light. Kane felt a bullet clip the material of his pants, but he never broke stride. Behind him, Traynor swore with a deep rumble as he willed himself onward.
In front of them, the lagoon loomed large, and Kane reached into his pocket for the detonator switch. They leaped into the air and Kane pressed the button. Behind them, the lab disintegrated as the explosives ripped it apart.
Team 2
“This is Eagle One. Man down, I say again, man down.”
Hawk glanced at Arenas and snapped, “I’ll go.”
“No. We wait here until we can move and take Montoya with us.”
“But we’ve got a man down,” Hawk protested.
“Yes, and before that, they said we have Tangos in the building, who will come here to check on their Jefe. Both of us stay.”
Arenas was right, and Hawk knew it. “Shit.”
On cue, the door at the end of the hall flew wide, and tattooed men spilled inside. Armed with AKMs, they started to spray the interior without fear or favor. Their bloodlust was up and at that stage, didn’t care who was in the way.
Arenas cursed and pulled the semi-conscious cartel boss to the floor beside him. Hawk dived behind the sofa that the bound women were on.
A line of bullets punched holes in the couch from left to right, and with it, the three women. Montoya’s wife and two sisters-in-law. Their bodies spasmed, and two of them slid to the floor, where once more, the tiles became bathed in blood.
Arenas came up to one knee and fired the HK at the first target. The bullet blew through him and punched into the one directly behind.
The special forces officer shifted his aim and fired again. Another kill.
From behind the sofa, Hawk rose and fired a burst. The 5.56 rounds drilled three holes into the would-be killer from crotch to sternum.
More tattooed killers rushed through the door and, for the first time, Arenas knew they were in danger of being overwhelmed. He flicked the selector switch on the HK416’s side and burned through the last of the magazine. Shell casings rattled across the hard floor as they were ejected from the rapidly-fired weapon.
“Loading!” Arenas called across to Hawk as he dropped an empty magazine and rammed another home. He sighted once more and shot the next man to enter the battle zone.
Behind him, the walls were pepp
ered with shot after shot. Plaster and debris rained down throughout the room which was soon hazy with a fine cloud of dust.
“Loading!” Hawk shouted and dropped behind the sofa once again just as three bullets ripped through it, taking clumps of stuffing with them.
The DEA agent reloaded and rose up to open fire when his head snapped back suddenly, a small puff of pink mist exploding from the rear of it.
With a clatter, his HK fell to the floor which drew the attention of Arenas who could only see an arm poking out from behind the sofa, but knew it was bad. Leaving Montoya where he lay, Arenas crawled across to Hawk. One look at the bloody hole in the man’s forehead was sufficient to know that the DEA agent was dead.
“Mierda!” Arenas swore in a harsh voice. He spoke into his mic, “Man down. Reaper Four is hit, and I’m pinned down. I repeat, Reaper Four is hit, and I’m pinned down.”
Team 1
“Man down. Reaper Four … I’m … down. I repeat, … Four is … pinned –”
Kane and Traynor had dragged themselves from the lagoon and were now under the cover of a low bank. An orange glow from the burning lab still filled the immediate area and illuminated multiple targets for the water-soaked men.
Kane swore, “Fuck! Say again, Reaper Two.”
“Reaper Four is hit, and I’m pinned down. I repeat, Reaper Four is hit, and I’m pinned down.”
He looked at Traynor. “Come on, we’ve got to get to the main building.”
Traynor shot another cartel soldier. “Lead the way.”
“Keep your head down,” Kane snapped and leaped to his feet.
Scimitar
Chief Hunt started to bark orders to his men when he heard the call from Arenas. “Man the miniguns.”
“Are we going in, Chief?” Kemp asked.
“Damn straight. NVGs on and call targets before you open fire. I don’t want you killing any of our own.”