“You’re gettin’ the idea,” Bill said. “We won’t know for sure until we get where we’re goin’.”
“You’re talking about a covert mission into another country. You’re recruiting people like me who won’t be missed so the government will have maximum deniability if anything goes wrong.”
The man might be an inhuman monster, thought Bill, but that didn’t mean he was dumb.
“Let’s say you’re right. Let’s say there’s a threat to your country that needs to be neutralized.”
“I wouldn’t advise you to play to my patriotism,” Cole said. “I don’t have any.”
“You go along with us, we’re prepared to make it possible for you to start over with a new identity and a new life. All you have to do is agree to go along and follow orders.”
“I’m not a fool, Mister . . . what is your name, anyway?”
“You can call me Bill.”
“I’m not a fool, Bill,” Cole said. “You’re not going to just let me walk free if I help you with this mission, whatever it is.”
“That’s the deal.”
Cole shook his head.
“No. The only reason you’d make such an offer is that you don’t expect me to ever be able to take you up on it. You don’t expect me to come back alive.”
“Does that make a difference?”
Cole didn’t answer right away, and when he spoke again he still didn’t give Bill a direct answer. Instead he said, “Do you know what the worst part is about being locked up?”
“Why don’t you tell me?”
“It’s feeling useless. I have a very specific set of skills, and I very well may be the best in the world at what I do.” Cole spread his hands. “But sitting in a cell, I can’t accomplish anything. You may not believe this, but I have a very strong work ethic, Bill.”
“So . . . do we put you to work?”
“I’ll take the job . . . but if I do survive to collect that new life, I want a bonus. I want one million dollars.”
“Done,” Bill said.
CHAPTER 28
Knowing Jackie Thornton’s history, how cold-bloodedly Thornton had shot another man in the head just because the unlucky fella had married Thornton’s ex-wife, Bill expected to react to him with as much dislike as he had to Braden Cole.
Instead, Bill looked at the slightly built man who shuffled into the room and sat down at the table without meeting anyone’s eyes, and had to stop himself from feeling sorry for Thornton. In the meeting with Clark and the other government officials, he had described Thornton as a sad sack. Not many people these days would understand that World War II–era reference, but it was a perfect description of Jackie Thornton anyway.
Bill reminded himself that Thornton had also tried to kill his ex-wife, and it was only sheer happenstance that he hadn’t succeeded. He had fired a lot of rounds in that living room, and one of them easily could have found Maggie Louise Redmond.
Thornton kept his head down, staring at the table. After another moment went by, Bill said, “Hello, Jackie. You don’t know me. My name’s Bill.”
Thornton nodded, just an almost imperceptible movement of his head, and didn’t say anything.
“You know why you’re here?” Bill went on.
“No, sir,” Thornton replied in a voice that was little more than a whisper. “The warden said I was being sent down to Texas. That’s all I know.” He paused. “Is this some sort of maximum-security prison? If it is, that’s not necessary. I’ve never tried to get away, and I never will.”
“Why is that?”
For the first time, Thornton glanced up. He had a surprised look in his eyes.
“Why . . . I did wrong. I killed an innocent man. Greg Redmond didn’t deserve what I done to him. I’ve got to pay for my crime.”
“He married your wife,” Bill said, wondering what it would take to get a rise out of Thornton. “Wrecked your happy home.”
“No, sir, I done that. Maggie Louise leaving me was all my fault, because I was a weak, sinful man and run with bad companions. Made bad choices. That’s all on me.”
“Well, it’s good that you take responsibility for your actions. How’d you like a chance to make up a little for what you’ve done?”
“When I saw this place, I got to thinking maybe it was something like that. You want to try some new drug on me, don’t you? Or maybe perform some sort of experiment? I don’t care, sir. You just do whatever you want to me, and if I don’t make it, well, I’m fine with that.”
Bill heard a little noise behind him and glanced over his shoulder to see that Wade Stillman was having a hard time not breaking out in laughter. Even the normally taciturn John Bailey had a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“That’s not exactly what we had in mind, Jackie,” Bill said. “We need volunteers, but it’s not for some sort of . . . experiment.”
“Oh.” Bill thought Thornton sounded vaguely disappointed, as if he had convinced himself they were going to turn him into a zombie or a cyborg or some such fanciful notion. “Well, then, what would I be volunteering for?”
“A dangerous mission. There’s a better than even chance you wouldn’t be comin’ back. But it’s for the good of the country.”
Unlike Braden Cole, Thornton must have had some patriotism in his personality. He perked up at that and said, “You know, for a while I thought about joining the Army. I wanted to do something to help. Probably would’ve been a lot better off all around if I had.”
“Likely you’re right about that. So you’re interested in signin’ on with us?”
“What would I have to do? I mean, I’m not that good at fighting. Never have been.” Thornton nodded toward Bailey and Wade. “I wouldn’t be any match for fellas like these.”
“Then it’s a good thing you’ll all be on the same side,” Bill said. “Don’t worry, if you want to be part of this, we’ll teach you everything you need to know.”
“Well, then, I guess . . . I guess I could give it a try.”
Bill frowned and asked, “Don’t you want to know what you’ll get in return?”
“You said it was a chance to do some good. I’m not expecting anything else in return.”
Either Thornton was a consummate actor and was pulling the wool over all their eyes, Bill thought, or else he was exactly what he seemed to be, a none-too-bright small town boy who had screwed up his life and gotten into deep trouble.
Either way he might be useful. Bill nodded and said, “All right, consider yourself part of the team, Jackie.”
“Really?” There was a note of pride in his voice as he added, “I don’t reckon I’ve been on a team since I played ball in high school. I always liked that—” He stopped short, then said, “But I don’t reckon we’ll be playing football, will we?”
“Nope,” Bill said. “It’s a lot more dangerous game than that.”
Bill, John Bailey, and Wade Stillman met that evening in Bill’s quarters. They were all staying in what had been base housing for the Air Force officers, back when the base was active. Bill got beers from the refrigerator and carried them into the spartanly furnished living room. He handed sweat-dripping bottles to the other two men.
In the several days they had been here, Bailey and Stillman had settled into old, comfortable roles. Both men had been noncoms in the Army, and that was essentially their function in this operation, too, backing up Bill as their commander.
That didn’t come as easy to Bill. He hadn’t always been a lone wolf, but he had spent more time operating on his own than he had as part of a group, let alone in charge. That wasn’t to say that he couldn’t take command when he needed to. He could and would. When it came time to strike at Barranca de la Serpiente, he would be in charge, no doubt about that.
Bill sat down to talk about the members of the team that had been assembled so far, but before he could launch into the discussion, the walkie-talkie clipped to his belt chirped. He unhooked it, held it to his mouth, and said, “Elliott.
”
The voice of one of the guards said, “We’ve got a chopper headed this way, sir. Looks like it intends to land.”
Bill frowned in surprise and asked, “Any identification on it?”
“It’s one of ours, sir. They have the right call sign.”
“We expectin’ anybody tonight?” Bill asked Bailey and Stillman.
Both men shook their heads. Bailey said, “The last two members of the team aren’t supposed to get here until tomorrow.”
“You were gonna brief us on ’em tonight,” Wade added.
Bill’s brain raced. Not many people knew the old base was being used again, and even fewer knew what they were doing out here. He didn’t see how the unexpected arrival of the helicopter could be any sort of threat, but there was no point in taking a chance.
“We’re on our way,” he said into the walkie-talkie. “Have a couple of guards meet us at the helipad.”
He and Bailey and Stillman were all armed as well. He figured they could handle any problems that came up.
The chopper wasn’t trying to sneak onto the base. Its running lights were on as it descended. Bill could see it clearly as he and the other two men walked toward the landing area.
A couple of uniformed guards carrying carbines met them there. The men waited together as the helicopter settled down on its skids. It was a smaller corporate-style chopper rather than the big Hueys used to bring in equipment and supplies.
As the rotors slowed to a stop, the door opened and a familiar figure climbed out into the glow from the helipad lights. Bill walked toward the man and called, “You could’ve let us know you were comin’, Clark.”
“I didn’t know I was coming out here until a little while ago,” Clark said as he came up to Bill and shook hands with his old friend and colleague. “I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news.”
“I had a hunch that’s what you’d be sayin’ as soon as I saw you.”
Clark nodded toward the building where the team was quartered.
“Let’s go inside. I’ll tell you all about it. And if you’ve got a drink you can offer me . . .”
“I reckon we can manage that, if you’re all right with beer.”
“Right now I’ll take one . . . or six.”
Bill grinned and said, “Come on.”
Before they left the helipad, Clark turned to one of the guards and said, “Take care of the package I left on the chopper, will you?”
“Of course, sir,” the man said. “What do you want me to do with it?”
Clark frowned in thought for a moment, then replied, “Bring it to Mr. Elliott’s quarters in fifteen minutes.”
The guard nodded in understanding.
“You’re bein’ mighty mysterious,” Bill said as they walked toward the building with Bailey and Stillman. “What’s in this package of yours?”
“You’ll see. We need to talk about something else first, though, so you’ll understand why I brought it here.”
Bill wasn’t the sort to get nervous, but he didn’t like what he was hearing from Clark. Something was going on that might have an effect on the mission.
Once the four men were back in Bill’s quarters, he got another beer from the refrigerator and tossed the bottle easily to Clark, who caught it and twisted off the cap. He took a long swallow and then sat down in an armchair. Bill resumed his usual seat in a recliner, and the two younger men sat on the sofa.
Clark didn’t wait for Bill to ask him again what had prompted this visit to the old air base. Nor did he sugarcoat the news he had to deliver. He said bluntly, “Tariq Maleef has escaped.”
Bill drew in a sharp breath through his nose. “Escaped,” he repeated.
“Well . . . more like he was rescued. A force of what we think were cartel soldiers hit the convoy that was transporting him from the facility where he’d been housed to the airport so he could be taken to another facility outside the country.”
That statement came as no surprise to Bill. Ever since the procedure of housing terrorist enemies at Guantanamo had come about in the days following the 9/11 attack, other high-security facilities had been established for the same purpose in a number of other places, only their existence had been maintained as a strict secret. These days, Gitmo served as more of a decoy than anything else.
“You’ve been movin’ him around quite a bit, haven’t you?”
“That’s right,” Clark said with a nod. “For the very reason that we didn’t want the cartel to get wind of where he was and try to break him out.” Clark paused, then added, “We also figured it was a good idea if certain people in Washington couldn’t get their hands on him.”
Bill sighed in understanding.
“It’s a damn shame when you have to keep your own government from tryin’ to sabotage everything you do to protect the country,” he said.
“Yeah, but that’s the way it is ever since that crowd took over and rigged things so they’re always in power. We just have to deal with it and do what we can.”
“Until it all comes down like the proverbial house of cards,” Bill said grimly.
“Yeah, but we’re gonna postpone that day for as long as we can. And part of that is keeping the country safe from threats like Maleef and his south-of-the-border buddies.”
“Excuse me, sir,” John Bailey said. “When the cartel rescued Maleef . . . did we lose any men?”
“Twelve,” Clark said flatly. “Everybody who was with the convoy.”
“Damn,” Wade Stillman breathed.
“You got any details we need to know, other than the fact that Maleef’s in the wind again?” Bill asked.
Clark shook his head.
“No, that’s it. We’ve kept what happened shielded from the media, thank goodness. If they ever find out the truth about the New Sun and how close we came . . . well, it wouldn’t be good, and they sure don’t need to know that Maleef is on the loose again and able to get up to more mischief.”
Bill grunted.
“Mischief. That’s a good word for almost nukin’ downtown San Antonio.”
He didn’t have to watch what he said. Bailey and Stillman had been thoroughly briefed about their current situation and the things that had led up to it, as had Megan Sinclair. The other members of the team were still in the dark about the details. They would be carrying out their parts in the mission on a strictly need-to-know basis.
“There is one good thing we think might come out of this,” Clark said. “We figure there’s a good chance Maleef will head for Barranca de la Serpiente. If we can pick up his trail, maybe he’ll lead us right to the place.”
The intelligence they had gathered so far had given them a rough location for the terrorist training camp in the mountains of northern Mexico, but the Sierra Madre was a big area and they couldn’t just wander around looking for their destination. Clark was right: if they could pin down the location, it would be a big help.
A quiet knock sounded on the door. Bill stood up and said, “That’ll be that package you told the guard to bring here.”
“That’s right,” Clark said. He got to his feet as well. He started toward the door, but Bill waved him back.
“I’ll get it.”
“It might not be what you expect,” Clark said.
“How big could it be?” Bill asked as he opened the door.
Then he stood there, stiff with surprise, as Catalina Ramos smiled at him and said, “Hello, Bill. Aren’t you going to ask me in?”
CHAPTER 29
Bill had long since learned to roll with the punches, mental as well as physical. His surprised reaction lasted only a second before he controlled it. He stepped back, returned Catalina’s smile, and waved a hand for her to come in.
“Didn’t expect to ever see you again, young lady,” he said. He glanced at Clark. “I thought you had her stashed somewhere safe.”
“We did,” Clark said. “She insisted on coming to see you.”
Bill knew that wasn’t the whole story. Clark nev
er did anything without a good reason that would further his own agenda. Bill just had to figure out what that was . . . assuming Clark didn’t just come out and tell him.
Bill glanced at Bailey and Stillman and saw that they were eyeing Catalina appreciatively. There was a lot to appreciate. She wore camo trousers and a white T-shirt, like they did, only the outfit looked a lot better on her. It also emphasized how athletic she was. She looked like she was ready to kick ass.
As that thought went through Bill’s brain, he felt a tingle of alarm. He muttered, “Oh, hell no.”
“What was that?” Catalina asked as she came into the room. “Aren’t you going to offer an old friend a beer?”
“We didn’t spend all that much time together,” Bill said. “I don’t know if you could call us old friends.”
Wade Stillman said, “Shouldn’t you introduce us to the lady, Bill?”
He glared briefly at the young ex-soldier and said, “You fellas are smart enough to have figured it out already. This is Señorita Catalina Ramos. She’s the one who helped me keep San Antonio from bein’ blown off the map.”
Bailey nodded gravely and said, “It’s a pleasure, ma’am.”
“It sure is,” Stillman added.
Bill sighed, shook his head, and said, “I’ll get that beer. And then you’re gonna tell us what you’re really up to, Clark.”
“Me?” Clark said in mock innocence. “I just came to deliver the bad news about Maleef.”
“Uh-huh.” Bill’s skepticism was obvious.
He brought another beer from the kitchen, gave it to Catalina, and nodded her into the chair where he had been sitting. As the others resumed their seats, he perched on the arm of the sofa next to Bailey and said, “All right, Clark, spill it. What’s Catalina really doin’ here?”
“I told you, she insisted on coming to see you.”
“That’s right, I did,” Catalina said. “Actually, though, I’d been asking about that for a couple of weeks without getting anywhere.”
“Until Maleef got loose,” Bill said. He started connecting dots. “You thought the cartel might come after her, didn’t you, Clark?”
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