“Yeah,” Austin said, closing and locking the door. “Let’s see what you got.”
“Before we start any negotiations,” Hinkle said, turning toward Austin and running both fingers through his sandy hair, “I guess I ought to tell you something.”
Austin waited, watching the man closely, when he saw a red dot appear on GT’s forehead.
“We talk right here in your storefront. Is that acceptable to you, mate?”
The red dot on GT’s head disappeared. Austin wanted desperately to turn around and look out the window, but knew he wouldn’t see anything. He seemed to come to a decision and walked slowly toward the table. “Sure, Hinkle. Open the case.”
Hinkle stepped slowly toward the table. “Let’s see the money first. I don’t want to be wasting my time.”
Looking at GT, Austin nodded and GT pointed to the table. Conner stepped forward, the black briefcase in his hand. Conner’s hands were shaking as he placed the case on the table and opened it. His voice cracked slightly as he said, “There’s more than enough here to cover all expenses.”
GT quietly added, “But not a nickel leaves here, unless I have what I came here for.”
Hinkle slowly opened the rifle case and stepped back. “What you’re buying are eight Russian-made SGL21 AK-103 rifles, chambered for seven-point-six-two-by-thirty-nine-millimeter cartridges. They were converted and rebuilt by Arsenal firearms. Each one has a riveted bullet guide, Tapco G2 trigger assembly, threaded muzzle, bayonet lugs on both the gas block and front sight, and an ACE Limited side folding buttstock.”
Hinkle slowly stepped away from the table as Austin picked up the rifle. He gave it a quick cursory inspection, checked the chamber and slowly raised it to his shoulder, the muzzle pointing away from everyone and away from the window. He didn’t want the sniper outside to get the wrong impression.
Lowering the rifle, he placed the butt against his hip, his right hand on the bolt, and looked at Hinkle. “May I?”
“Please do,” Hinkle replied confidently.
In quick easy movements, Austin flipped down the safety and ratcheted the bolt back, releasing it with a crisp snap of finely machined steel. With his thumb on the hammer, he pulled it back slightly and removed the dust covers, then quickly removed both the recoil spring and bolt carrier group. His movements were practiced and fluid, having torn down AKs thousands of times.
Inspecting the trigger assembly and chamber, he quickly reassembled the rifle, looking at both the spring and bolt assembly before putting them back in.
“Not a penny over ten grand,” Austin said. “For eight, just like this one.”
“Did I mention each one comes with four mags and a hundred rounds?”
“Look around ya, mate,” Austin chided. “Mags and ammo I got plenty of.”
“I can come down to twelve, Mister Brown. You obviously know the weapon, so you know that each one’ll retail for an easy fifteen hundred, without the mags and ammo.”
“This here ain’t no retail transaction. Eleven.”
Hinkle glanced over at GT and grinned. “You picked a good advisor, Mister Bradley. Eleven thousand it is.”
“When and where?” GT asked.
“Sunrise,” Hinkle replied. “Somewhere private.”
“Call Maggio,” Austin said. “Ask him if he can give you a lift to our usual spot.”
Leaning to his left and looking out the front windows of the shop, Hinkle clapped his hands together. “Got my own car, mate. Just give me the address. I’ll be there.”
“Can’t get to it by car. He’ll fly you out. We’ve used the same spot a bunch of times. Tell him there’s an extra five grand if you can give Mister Bradley and five of his men a ride to Key West.”
“Key West, eh? This wouldn’t have anything to do with what happened down there last night, would it?”
“Probably best if you don’t know anything more than you do now,” GT said.
“Mind if I step outside to make the call?” Hinkle said, heading toward the door.
Austin unlocked and opened it for him. Hinkle went to the back of his car and turned around. Holding a cellphone in his hand, he waited until Austin closed the door before dialing.
Austin slowly walked back to the table. With his back to the door, he said in a low voice, “Don’t look at me and don’t say a word. The man has a sniper outside somewhere. I’m sure he’s on the up and up. Mister Maggio’s a good man. He just has the guy outside so he don’t get taken advantage of.”
“I woke with a start, as Travis put a hand on my shoulder. “They took the bait,” he said. “I spoke to Donnie a little while ago.”
I stood up and stretched. “What time is it?”
“Oh one hundred. Sunrise is in less than six hours.”
I thought for a moment. “Did you get the takedown team moving? It’ll take them an hour to get here to pick us up and then insert us at least an hour before sunrise.”
“Pick us up? They can be there from Homestead in a lot less time. Why do they need to come here?”
“I’m going. You probably shouldn’t, but I need to see this through.”
“Okay, but Scott and Germ will go with you.”
“Then have the chopper bring two extra ghillie suits. There won’t even be a tree stump to hide behind out there in the Glades. Oh, and bring plenty of bug spray.”
Scott and Germ were lying in two other bunks in the cramped little office. Without opening his eyes, Scott said, “Maybe rebreathers would be better, then?”
“Good idea,” I said. “Black wetsuits and rebreathers. That water’s so dark, we won’t be visible just below the surface even from a few feet away, and so far, mosquitoes haven’t adapted to underwater life.”
“You three get some more rest, then,” Travis said. “I’ll have the chopper arrive here in two hours. Another of our own pilots will be flying the Maggio bird, along with Donnie and two others from Bravo Team.”
Scott and Germ both rolled over, their backs to us, and I motioned Travis to follow me outside. Carl had moved one of the large commercial coffeemakers out to the table and I poured two cups. The two of us sat down and discussed contingency plans.
During his short talk with Donnie, when the Aussie was pretending to talk to Nick, Travis had instructed him to tell Brown that he’d fly to the spot that Maggio’s pilot knew with two other men besides the pilot and they’d arrive at zero seven hundred, just after sunrise. Donnie was to tell Brown that he could bring only himself, Bradley, the accountant and no more than two others. He would also tell Brown that Maggio had agreed to have the chopper fly Bradley and his crew to Key West, but not until after they returned to Brown’s store. It didn’t have room for that many people.
Travis had assigned a second takedown team that would raid the gun shop at the same time the chopper landed on upper Shark River and apprehend the remainder of Bradley’s crew.
When I’d walked Nick to the Revenge, I’d retrieved my go-bag before taking the short nap. I went back to the dock and grabbed my wetsuit, my Drager rebreather, and the rest of my dive gear from the storage locker near the bow, trying to be as quiet as possible.
Sitting at the table with Travis, both of us drinking another cup of Rusty’s special Costa Rican coffee, he and I had our first real chance to have a long talk about Charity Styles.
“She’s damaged goods,” I said finally. “She might do well at not showing it, but she could have some sort of flashback to her time in the hands of the Taliban.”
“Everyone on the team undergoes a lot of psychological testing, Jesse. Charity went through even more after I submitted her name to the secretary. All the shrinks say she’s okay in the head. Maybe not perfect, but well enough for the duties she was chosen for.”
“How does she get around from target to target?”
Travis looked at me over the rim of his mug. Finally, he set it down and said, “Only three others have that information. Deuce, the secretary and the president. I know you well enough
to know you can be trusted with it. She’s on a forty-two-foot Alden sloop, equipped with the latest nav and comm equipment and anything else she might need for a mission. I’m the only one that has contact with her. I fly to where she is and deliver a target assignment and any specialized gear she’ll need. She can choose to decline any target she wants, but so far she’s three for three, without a single hiccup.”
“An Alden sloop?”
“Her own choice. She only agreed to take the assignment if that’s how she would travel. It was originally built eighty years ago, but underwent a two-month refit, sparing no cost. Her assignment area is the whole Caribbean Basin, so she can usually get to where she needs to in less than a week. During that time, she makes her own plan as to when, where, and how to eliminate the target.”
“Did the shrinks take into account that she’d be alone at sea? Just her and her thoughts?”
The door to the office opened, just as I heard the heavy thump-thump of a chopper inbound and flying low over the water. Scott and Germ came out and split up, heading to the four corners of the clearing, where they placed strobes on the ground and activated them. Both men were already wearing black wetsuits and jump boots.
I began pulling my own wetsuit on and checking my rebreather. “I don’t like it, Travis. Not even a little bit. Probably because I know her better than most. While she and I were on the Revenge last year, she opened up to me. Took her a week, but she finally talked about what happened to her in Afghanistan and how devastated she was when Jared was killed.”
Scott was on the far side of the clearing, two flashlights with red cones over the lights in his hands, ready to direct the chopper down.
“But she took care of the problem then,” Travis said. “Just as she’s doing now.”
“You weren’t there, Colonel. You didn’t see the look in her eyes when she did it.”
The chopper flared as it approached the island, bleeding off speed. The pilot noted the illuminated flagpole, the colors hanging limp below the solar-powered light on the top of the pole. He made a straight-in approach and seconds later, the bird was on the ground. I grabbed my gear and trotted toward it, Germ and Scott joining me at the open door.
“Good to see you again, Gunny,” Scott Bond shouted, offering a hand. Bond had been a SEAL lieutenant and a supervisor at their dive school. I’d always found him to be cool and level-headed.
“Good to be seen, Eltee,” I replied, handing him my fly rod case.
The chopper was a UH-1, commonly called a Huey, solid black with no markings. In back were seats for up to eight men. I took an empty seat and looked at the others on board. The only one I recognized was Bill Guthrie seated across from us and I nodded to him.
As Scott and Germ sat down, two of the men across from us handed them rebreather cases, and then the chopper lifted off, spinning slowly until it faced north. Looking out the open door, the moon illuminated my little island and I saw Michal and Coral at the deck rail of my house. He was wearing only boxers and she had a sheet wrapped around her, whipping in the turbulence caused by the chopper’s blades. Nick and Eve came running up the steps from the dock area and joined them.
I switched on the tiny comm unit in my ear and as Eve broke apart from the others and started running down the rear steps, I said, “Colonel?”
“I copy,” I heard Travis say through the earwig.
“Tell my daughter I’ll be back in time for Alfie’s swimming lesson.”
“Roger that,” Travis responded as the chopper’s nose dipped and the pilot added throttle.
Bond tapped me on the arm. “Gunny, meet Bravo Team. To expedite things, we’ll just use numbers for now. There’ll be time for introductions later. You, Scott and Germ are Alpha One, Two, and Three and I’m Bravo One.” Pointing to Guthrie on the end he said, “You already know Bravo Two. Next to him are Bravo, Three, Four, and Five, all from SEAL Team Four.”
I reached across and shook hands with the four men, noting that the one seated next to Guthrie held an MK11 sniper rifle between his legs. Placing my fly rod case on my knees, I started to open it.
“Planning to do some fishing?” the man with the sniper rifle asked.
“Roger that, Bravo Three,” I replied, removing my own M40 and snapping the Unertl scope into place on the Picatinny rail. “I hear illegal arms smugglers are biting.”
As we flew through the darkness, Bond outlined a basic tactical plan, where Guthrie and the SEAL sniper would take cover on the river’s bank if we could find a suitable place during a flyover. Scott and I would do the same in another spot at a ninety-degree angle from them and the island. The rest of the team would surround the clearing on all sides. We’d try to use our rebreathers sparingly at the water’s edge, breathing on the surface if the mosquitoes cooperated. Brown would be coming by airboat, so we’d hear them for miles just before sunrise. The chopper would fly due west and land on a sandbar near the mouth of Shark River and wait there until we had the men in custody.
Using the coordinates Travis got from Nick and verifying the clear spot using satellite imagery, the pilot located the high clearing and had no trouble landing in the middle of it. Everyone fanned out and hugged the water’s edge, until the chopper lifted off and flew west. Then we regrouped in the center of the little island.
“Bravo Two and Three,” Bond said, “Did you see that log on the river bank, two hundred meters southwest?”
“Affirmative,” Guthrie said. “That’ll make a decent hide.”
“Hey, Bill,” I said as the two men turned to go. He stopped and turned around. “Just make sure that log isn’t a gator or python.”
Both men turned and trudged off toward the southwest. Having doused all the lights on the chopper long before we arrived, our eyes had adjusted to the light of the moon and stars. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, but all of us had night vision headsets, just in case.
“Jesse, you and Germ move southeast,” Bond said, pointing to a small cypress stand just a hundred yards away. “The rest of you fan out and take cover in the water.”
We didn’t have a long wait. Germ and I lay prone on a sandy spot at the edge of the cypress head, our bodies completely submerged in the dark tannin-filled water. We tried to keep our heads up, but with no wind, the mosquitoes were fierce.
All of us wore full face masks, to enable communication through the use of the bone-conductive mics and earwigs, so we mostly stayed submerged, breathing through the rebreathers and taking turns keeping an ear above the surface.
“I hear an airboat,” one of the men said.
I lifted my head out of the water and listened. Knowing that sound travels better over water, even when the water’s covered with three-foot-tall sawgrass, I could tell the boat was still a long distance away and slipped back below the surface.
“Bravo Three and Four,” I said between breaths, “This is Alpha One. He’ll probably come from your direction. An airboat only needs a couple of inches of water, so stay deep and if he passes over you, you’ll be okay.”
“Roger that,” one of them responded.
A few minutes later, I could hear the roar of the airboat engine under water and knew it was close. Knowing that the stand of cypress behind us would keep the men on the airboat from seeing me, I raised my head up high enough to see over the sawgrass, ignoring the mosquitoes that swarmed every inch of exposed skin.
The sky to the east was already a bright pink, sunrise only minutes away. “This is Alpha One,” I whispered. “I have eyes on them, four hundred meters due east and closing fast.” I raised my rifle and flipped open the front and rear sight covers. Looking through it, I counted two men in the high rear seats and three in the lower front seats. “Five men on the boat. Guess they’re getting here ahead of time. It’s only zero six-thirty.”
Over my headset, I heard Travis’s voice. “Alpha One and Bravo One, this is Six Actual. Maggio’s helicopter is twenty minutes out.” He was using the satellite to connect to our comm, beaming instructio
ns from space.
“Roger that,” Bond said. “Everyone stay low and get small. We’re doing this by the book. Six Actual has eyes in the sky and he’s recording everything. We don’t take them down until he confirms that the money and weapons have changed hands.”
The airboat made a direct approach to the island, the engine roaring as it rode its own bow wave up onto dry land before the driver shut the engine down. The five men on board stepped off, one of them carrying a briefcase. All five stayed close to the boat, but two men with bolt-action hunting rifles stepped a little further away than the others. These two would be my and Bravo Three’s targets.
Five minutes later, Donnie’s voice came over the comm as he passed the five-mile mark, about the maximum distance the comm units worked for a direct connection. “This is Air One. I’m five minutes out.”
Bad guys just don’t stand a chance these days, I thought as I slowly slipped back below the surface and drowned at least a dozen mosquitoes. We waited patiently, Donnie giving a play-by-play as the chopper approached, confirming only five men on the tiny, bare island and nobody hiding on the boat.
“Crikey! Where are you blokes? There ain’t even a strand of grass on that little sandbar.”
“We’re close by,” Bond said. “Underwater.”
“Touching down,” Donnie said. “Going covert.”
I slowly lifted my head until I could just see them through the sawgrass. The chopper had circled and landed facing the airboat. The engine went silent, the only sound was the whisper of the blades as they slowed.
The back door of the Bell commuter chopper opened and a man climbed out, dragging a large case behind him. Another man got out of the far side and came around the front of the bird with Donnie to join the first man. The pilot remained in the chopper.
Watching closely, I recognized Brown by his western-style clothes as he separated from his group and strode toward Donnie.
“Good mornin’, mate,” Donnie said to Brown, his voice coming over my headset. I was too far away to hear Brown’s response, but it didn’t sound pleasant.
Fallen Honor: A Jesse McDermitt Novel (Caribbean Adventure Series Book 7) Page 24