Ready to Kill

by Andrew Peterson

  “It’s not unique to snipers,” Harv added. “Think about the crew of an Ohio: if they didn’t emotionally disengage, they’d never be able to launch their Tridents. The same thing applies to artillerymen, fighter pilots, you name it.”

  Bill nodded in agreement. It was clear he understood the concept.

  “Raven’s switch was always on, but he had no problem pulling the trigger.”

  “So why didn’t you wash Raven out?” Cantrell asked.

  Nathan looked out his window again. He’d been hoping she wouldn’t ask.

  “Look, I’m not trying to second-guess you guys, but it’s a fair question.”

  “We created hardened and efficient killers. That was our assignment. If I’d insisted, I could’ve sent him down the road, but truthfully, I liked him. He was a good combat soldier, and I trusted him.”

  Harv jumped in. “In 1990 when the Sandinistas lost political power, most of rural Nicaragua was very much like our early Wild West. The government had little or no control over the remote areas. There were leftover Sandinista warlords committing horrible atrocities against civilians in those mountains. Anyone perceived as a Contra sympathizer, whether they were or not, was rounded up, tortured, slaughtered, and buried in mass graves. Our job was to teach the kilo teams how to take out the warlords without collateral damage to the civilian population. We were in a time-critical situation.”

  “Understood,” said Cantrell. “As always, circumstances dictated what we had to do. Many powerful people in the media and on Capitol Hill wanted Reagan’s head on a platter. I was neck-deep in Operation Echo. Atrocities against the civilian population took a sharp nosedive. There’s no way to definitively gauge how many lives you guys saved down there, but it’s probably in the hundreds, if not thousands.”

  Nathan nodded. “Thanks for saying that, Rebecca. We did our jobs as best we could. I don’t like the idea of Raven misusing or selling his skills . . . if that’s what’s going on.”

  “All we know is what’s written on that piece of paper, and it isn’t much. Not surprisingly, there were no fingerprints. I think it’s fair to assume whoever threw that note over the fence wanted to get our attention, and he succeeded. I also think it’s reasonable to assume he’ll make contact again.”

  “So how do we fit in?”

  “When I said you’re never retired, I was speaking figuratively, not literally. I can’t force you to do anything, but I think I know you guys pretty well. If Raven’s gone bad, he’ll have to be dealt with, and the job should be yours.”

  “Because we trained him.”

  “I’m not saying that, and I don’t think it’s fair to you. If a cop goes bad, no one blames the academy instructors. It’s more a matter of who’s best suited to handle this. I don’t need to tell you how dangerous he could be if he’s aligned himself with a criminal organization like a cartel or gang.”

  “Agreed,” said Nathan. “If he’s become a gun for hire, he’s more than capable of taking out VIP targets.”

  “Which is all the more reason to deal with this quickly to avoid any kind of Raven-CIA connection. Do either of you have any idea who our mysterious messenger might be?”

  Nathan shook his head. “Not immediately. It’s interesting he used only Harv’s designation, though.”

  Harv added, “I think it’s reasonable to assume we’ve either met him or know him.”

  “That’s why you’re here.”

  “Nathan doesn’t exactly have the fondest memories of that place. Neither do I. You’re asking a lot, especially of Nathan.”

  “I’m aware of that.”

  Harv looked at Nathan. “There’s also a possibility this whole thing is a trap.”

  “I’m aware of that too. I’ll be able to give you limited support, but metaphorically, don’t call in any air strikes. Also, you may not discuss this with your families. Nothing goes any further than the two of you.”

  “So what’s next?” asked Nathan.

  “You guys are in the Hyatt tonight. Sit tight for now, but be ready to deploy at a moment’s notice. When we’re ready to move, I’ll send you a text on this.” Cantrell reached down to the floor and came back up with a plain cardboard box about the size of a hardcover novel. “It’s a special phone that comes with a few important rules. Always keep it on, and keep it with you. And never let its charge drop below thirty percent. If it falls below thirty percent, it erases itself and becomes unusable. It has a special battery that should last for three days if you don’t use it too much. It also monitors and records your GPS coordinates in real time. If you lose track of it, let me know right away. We can remotely kill it. There are also instructions on how to erase it. It doesn’t store recent calls or have a contact list, so you’ll have to enter all phone numbers manually. It also has no voice mail. We either speak live or text.”

  Nathan and Harv nodded.

  “I’ll text you if you don’t answer. If you call me and I don’t answer right away, give it ten rings before hanging up. I’m either on the phone or unavailable. I’ll see that you attempted a call, and I’ll get back to you ASAP. In the event the phone falls into the wrong hands or you’re being coerced, we’ll need a code word. It will be the first thing you say to me after I answer. If I hear any other word, I’ll hang up and kill it. Pick a word, something uncommon, anything you like.”

  Harv thought for a moment. “How about . . . chromium.”

  “That works. It’s an international phone, so it will work in Nicaragua. Memorize Bill’s cell number, just in case you can’t reach me.” She gave them the number, an easy one to remember because only the last four digits were different from Cantrell’s.

  A brief silence ensued as Cantrell pulled out her cell, looked at the screen, and tucked it away.

  “We passed the Hyatt a few minutes ago,” Nathan said.

  “You don’t miss much.”

  “Neither do you, Rebecca.”

  After dropping McBride and Fontana off at the entrance to the Hyatt, Rebecca Cantrell moved to the opposite side of the passenger compartment so she could face Bill Stafford.

  “What did you think of him?” she asked.

  “McBride? He’s hard to read, but the word capable comes to mind.”

  “That’s a good assessment.”

  Bill shook his head.

  “What?”

  “Those scars on his face . . . People must stare.”

  “I’m sure they do. He doesn’t like being in public much. But I have a feeling he’d be reclusive even without the scars. He fits the profile of an operations officer perfectly; it’s why I handpicked him for Echo. He and Harvey were ideal for the job. It was my brainchild. I built and operated the program. I’ve never told McBride and Fontana, but I suspect they know. The Reagan administration wanted to stop the atrocities being committed against the Contras and their families, but they didn’t know how to do it. When I proposed surgical strikes using sniper teams, they loved the idea but didn’t want the risk of having Americans on the ground in Nicaragua. We compromised by training Contra teams in neighboring Honduras. I can’t help but feel a shared responsibility for what happened to McBride.”

  “You mean his capture and interrogation?”

  She looked out the window. “I should’ve pulled them out of there sooner.”

  “That’s the problem with hindsight, it’s always twenty-twenty.” Bill thought for a moment. “For what it’s worth, they were dead-on about how it feels becoming a sniper. When I got home after my first kill, I was physically ill. I’d never shot anyone. Nothing Judy said to me that night helped. The guy was a first-class turd and deserved a bullet, but it bothered me for a long time. I guess it still does.”

  “Imagine multiplying that by a factor of sixty.”

  “I can’t.”

  They went silent for a few miles. Cantrell liked that about Bill�
�he didn’t ruin the quiet moments with small talk. McBride and Fontana were the same way.

  “I didn’t tell them, but we’ve already heard back from our messenger. He’s requested a face-to-face.”

  Bill didn’t say anything.

  “I wanted a read on them first. I’m planning to tell them tomorrow morning.”

  “Do you think they suspect you’re holding back?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “I’m assuming it’s going to be reconnaissance only? They meet with the messenger, determine what’s going on, and report back to you? You aren’t expecting them to engage, are you?”

  “No, they aren’t operations officers anymore. Don’t get me wrong. They’re still capable, but for obvious reasons, we can’t risk them falling into the wrong hands. Besides, they’d never allow themselves to be captured, but I doubt it would come to that. I agree with Fontana’s thought: they’ll likely be meeting with someone they already know.”

  “How are they getting down there? They can’t—well, shouldn’t—fly commercial, and Nicaraguan customs agents are thoroughly inspecting private jets and charters upon landing.”

  “I’ve already set it up with JSOC. All the assets are on the move.”

  CHAPTER 6

  Later that same morning, Nathan and Harvey finished their thirty-minute jog and reentered the Hyatt’s lobby. Despite being jet-lagged, neither of them had slept especially well. Just four short hours ago, they’d been inside an armored SUV with Cantrell. They strode into the bar and had no trouble finding a quiet spot. At 0615 the place was all but deserted. They grabbed a couple of plates and helped themselves to coffee and a continental breakfast.

  “I expect we’ll hear from Cantrell today,” Nathan said. “I have a feeling she’s already heard back from our messenger. Think about it—ten hours of chartered jet time for a ten-minute conversation, plus an encrypted phone? It’s a safe bet she’s already got a plan.”

  “The question is, what is the plan?”

  “Well, there’s no way we’re flying into Managua under any circumstances. If that’s her plan, we aren’t going.”

  “I’m glad to hear you say that. I feel the same way.”

  “We go in covert, or not at all. Meanwhile, we should find out if anything major’s going on in Nicaragua, politically or otherwise. Since Cantrell didn’t mention anything, I doubt there’s any serious trouble, but let’s not rule it out.”

  “Do you really think Raven would sell his services to a cartel or criminal gang?”

  “I honestly don’t know. I hope not. We spent a lot of time with him, but how well did we really get to know him? Like I told Cantrell, I trusted him back then, but people can change.”

  “Money can be a powerful lure, especially in a poor country.” Harv fell silent for a moment. “We can’t go to war against a cartel.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.”

  “And if we find out that’s the kind of thing Raven’s involved with?”

  “Then we communicate it to Cantrell. Job done.”

  Harv took a sip of coffee. “I wish it were that simple. I don’t trust her as fully as you do.”

  “I’m aware of that. We’ll just make sure we stick to the plan, whatever it is.”

  “How can you be so calm?”

  “I guess I just—”

  Their special cell phone chimed once. They looked at the text screen.

  Call me

  “Here we go.”

  Nathan punched in Cantrell’s cell phone number, engaged the speakerphone function, and turned the volume down low. Out of habit, they adjusted their chairs a little so they could keep an eye on each other’s backs.

  “Thank you for getting back to me so quickly,” Cantrell said. “You secure?”

  “Yes, we’re inside the lobby bar at the Hyatt. No one’s around.”

  “Several hours ago, our messenger made contact again,” she said. “The specifics are just landing on my desk.”

  Nathan exchanged a glance with Harv.

  “Embassy cameras captured a compact white vehicle pull to the curb at the bus stop. Without getting out, the driver, presumably our messenger, tossed a baseball over the fence. A folded piece of paper was attached with rubber bands. The vehicle’s plates had been removed. From the footage, it looks like a million other compact cars. The video is virtually worthless for IDing the driver. The note was a little longer this time. Basically, our mystery man wants a face-to-face with Harvey and says he won’t talk to anyone else.”

  “If Harv goes, I go,” Nathan said. “It’s not negotiable.”

  “Agreed. Since he left no way to contact him, we’ll just have to assume he’ll be okay meeting with both of you.”

  “If he knows Harv, he probably knows me as well. We were together the entire time.”

  Cantrell went silent for a moment. “What does the term ‘scatter point alpha’ mean to you?”

  Nathan made eye contact with Harv and nodded an okay.

  Harv answered. “It was one of four regrouping locations we’d planned to use if any member of an Echo or kilo team got separated from the group. In other words, if the shit hit the fan and we all had to bolt, we’d meet up at the closest scatter point and await retrieval.”

  “Would you be able to precisely locate it for me if you had good aerials?”

  “Definitely,” Harv said. “All four scatter points were on either ridgelines or mountaintops along a northeast to southwest axis. We purposely avoided choosing the highest or most prominent peaks, but each location provided a 360-degree defensible position with clear lines of sight to the north for radio communication.”

  “Is that where the messenger wants to meet Harv?” asked Nathan.

  “Yes,” said Cantrell. “Which means our messenger is likely one of your kilo grads. Who else would know about your rendezvous points?”

  “No one,” Nathan said. “It’s entirely possible Raven himself tossed both notes over the fence.”

  “I’ve considered that. And if true, we need to know what he wants.”

  Harv continued, “It could also be the opening move of an extortion scheme. Pay me money, or I go public with Echo.”

  “I’ve considered that as well, but if extortion were his thing, I think he would have tried it long ago. In two days, Nicaragua’s hosting an economic summit in Managua. Central American commerce ministers from Mexico to Colombia will be there. Not surprisingly, the United States is not invited. Security will be tight but not out to a thousand yards. All Raven would need is a little inside information to make a hit. As you know, even our own president isn’t one hundred percent safe from a truly great shooter.”

  “And you think Raven might have his sights on one of the ministers?” Nathan asked.

  “The timing of Raven’s reemergence, if we can call it that, is highly suspect. But that’s not my worst-case scenario.”

  “What is?” asked Nathan.

  Their conversation paused for a few seconds. Nathan waited, hoping Cantrell would be forthcoming.

  “There’s a distinct possibility this whole thing is being staged to lure you into Nicaragua. There’s no way to know why. It could be anything from revenge to extortion.”

  “Thank you for being candid,” Nathan said. “We’ve already talked about the risk of it being a trap, but we can’t address any tactical or security issues until we hear your plan for getting us in and out. We know those mountains well, and we can disappear if we have to.”

  “It’s my job to make sure it doesn’t come to that.”

  “You’re the only person we trust, Rebecca.”

  “I appreciate that. Do you happen to remember a town called Santavilla?”

  He exchanged another glance with Harv. “Yes.”

  “Then you also remember a Pastor Tobias?”

  “He helped u
s during a tight situation. We may not have survived without him.”

  “Five days ago, he was shot and killed by a sniper. Presumably Raven.”

  “Was that in the baseball note?” Harv asked.

  “Yes.”

  “That’s a bad deal,” Nathan said. “He was a good man.”

  Harv asked, “Do you think the murder of Pastor Tobias could somehow be connected to the approaching summit?”

  “I don’t know, probably not. All we know is that the shooting seems to have prompted the messenger to request this meeting with you.”

  “When?”

  “He wants to meet you in just over . . . thirty-three hours.”

  “That’s going to be tight,” said Nathan, “especially if we have to hoof it through miles of jungle. Alpha was the westernmost point in the scatter point chain. Rebecca, you know that area. It won’t be easy or quick getting there. We are not making a HALO insertion. Those days are long gone.”

  “I’d never ask that of you, especially at night.”

  “Also,” said Harv, “your special cell phone isn’t likely to get a signal in that area. How will we communicate with you?”

  “I’m working on that too. Right now, though, I need current photos of you for your fake passports and visas. I don’t anticipate you’ll need them, but it’s better to be on the safe side.”

  “It looks like there’s a camera built into this phone,” said Harv. “We’ll text you some headshots in a few minutes.”

  “One question,” said Nathan. “Exactly how are we getting down there?”

  “I thought you’d never ask,” said Cantrell. “The US Navy is giving you a ride.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Driven by a primal desire, Franco returned to Santavilla in search of human prey. It had been too long since his last indulgence. Although one of the girls at the Silver Sands Club in Managua could’ve served his every need, she could never give him what he craved. Having his way with a prostitute was like feeding a dead rat to a boa.

  He currently traveled alone but without concern. Everyone knew El Jefe’s men drove metal-gray Range Rovers, and no one would dare challenge him. Besides, he was well armed. Whenever he made a solo trip to the village, he wore a sidearm and kept an Uzi under his seat.