Operation Chaos

by Watkins, Richter

  Duran then headed around the north side of the villa, while Metzler went around the south.

  Keegan took the car keys and Armando’s cell and told him to go and not to look back. He said, “We’ll have a lot of special ops coming in—you don’t want to be anywhere around.”

  Armando got out and ran away, back toward the gate, probably praying he wouldn’t be shot on the way.

  Rainee and Keegan left the car and she followed him to the entrance of the atrium in the center of the main house.

  Keegan paused, listened, and then moved toward the open hall on the right.

  Then there was a yell from somewhere outside, followed by a non-silenced gunshot. In her earpiece, she heard Duran exchange some sort of cryptic communication with Keegan.

  She stayed close to Keegan as they headed down the hall toward a winding staircase leading up to the second floor of the massive villa.

  “Oh, Jesus, what the hell!” Raab said when some noise woke him out of a deep sleep. He woke highly agitated, exhausted and under the heavy weight of sleep drugs and alcohol. Raab pulled off his sleeping mask angrily, then took out his earplugs. He peered toward the window curtains.

  “Goddamnit,” he muttered. The noise that had awakened him sounded like a gunshot. One of the fucking Mexicans shooting at a snake or something. Or his security chief had come back drunk from one of the parties and slammed a door.

  Then he wondered if what woke him was a just a vivid dream that the sleep drugs sometimes elicited. Raab struggled for clear consciousness. He surfaced, rising from the depths of a coma.

  Then he heard a voice from somewhere outside.

  At first, he was about to grab his security intercom and chew somebody out, but then he heard what sounded like a distant pop, pop.

  His heart jumped. “We’re under attack,” he muttered. He pushed the blanket off and sat up. He looked at the small screen on his bedside table that showed six small images of his grounds.

  He saw what looked like a body near the fountain. Oh my God, he thought. We’re under attack! Goddamn cartels.

  Raab stumbled to his feet.

  He knew better than to get too comfortable in Mexico, a country constantly on the verge of falling into civil war. And now, on the verge of revolution, he was even more ready.

  All his important backup files, jump drives, personal notes, and a laptop were in his safe in one suitcase; his two million in bearer bonds and running money, various passports and documents in another.

  He left the lights off; using a small flashlight he kept on his bedside table, he went to his bureau and inserted his index finger in a reader under the top. The bureau then swung out, revealing his critical work in two Samsonite metal suitcases.

  His pilot wasn’t there, so he’d have to fly himself out. He kept urging himself to move faster, get out. He just hoped he wasn’t too much under the influence to handle the damn machine. He was staggering a bit, unsteady. Fucking sleep drugs.

  He put the suitcases on the bed and went around to find his gun, but first he grabbed his phone to let Colonel Tessler know what was going on: “Somebody’s raiding the compound. Killed the guards. I’m getting the hell out. Get a team in now.”

  “I’m on my way,” Tessler said. “You just go to Miramar. Use Blue Star One for air clearance. Get out.”

  Raab hung up. He went for the chopper keys and his 9mm Glock from the nightstand.

  He grabbed the chopper keys and his gun, then tried to figure out how he would carry the briefcases and gun to the roof ladder.

  He tried to put the gun in his pajama pocket, the keys in the other, and then grabbed the suitcases. It was all problematic as he was really messed up.

  That’s when the door burst open, a powerful flashlight blinded him, and he knew he was about to be shot to death.

  “Don’t shoot!” Raab pleaded. “Goddamnit, don’t shoot. I can give you millions. Don’t shoot.”

  “Calm down, Doc,” a familiar raspy voice said from behind the harsh light. “I did as I was ordered. I brought you Doctor Hall.”

  59

  Rainee felt a shock. The opposite of what appeared on Lester Raab’s face. He saw salvation. A miracle. “Keegan! Keegan! My God, I thought . . .”

  “Say hello to Doctor Hall,” Keegan said. “She went through a lot to get here.”

  Raab, now a bit confused, a little out of sorts, blocked the intense light with his arm.

  Raab, looking a bit drunk, stumbled back and sat on the edge of the bed, his right buttock hitting one of the Samsonite metal suitcases, giving him a painful jolt. “Rainee?”

  “I’m here, Lester.”

  The bedroom light came on and Keegan turned off his flashlight and put it back in his still-wet cargo pants.

  Raab muttered, “Keegan, my God, you did it. You got her here. You’re a genius.”

  Raab now saw his most advanced warrior and the woman he wanted by his side. For him, it was like a nightmare turned into a dream.

  “Rainee, my God, it’s great to see you. I was really worried.”

  He stared at her and she nodded, saying, “I didn’t want to disappoint you, Lester,” and he wondered by the tone of her voice, the deep sarcasm, if he had this right or had misjudged their intentions.

  Rainee didn’t know exactly what it was.

  “I knew you’d do it. One way or another, I knew you’d get her here. What about Metzler?”

  “He’s here as well,” Keegan said. “Unfortunately, some people were killed on the way in. Doctor Vereen being one of them.”

  Now Raab became confused. Rainee was feeling better but still a little uncertain herself about what Keegan was doing.

  “You leaving?” Keegan asked.

  “I was about to make a run for it. Jesus, you scared hell out of me. I called Tessler and—”

  “Where is Colonel Tessler?” Keegan asked.

  “He’s at some boat crash. We thought—”

  “Is he coming here?”

  “He will, yes. But—”

  Keegan snatched Raab’s weapon and his phone.

  Rainee said, “It’s been awhile, Lester. I thought you were dead; unfortunately, I was wrong.”

  “What’s in the suitcases?” Keegan demanded. “Open them for Doctor Hall.”

  “I heard shots. Thought the cartel—what the hell is this?” Raab said. “What’s going on? Keegan, dammit, talk to me.”

  “There have been some changes. Open the suitcases.”

  Rainee went over to the two metal suitcases on the bed. “Do what the man says, Lester.”

  “What the hell’s going on?”

  Keegan pointed his weapon at Raab and said, “Open them. And do it quickly. I’m in a very bad mood.”

  Raab, shaky, awkward, did as ordered. “I don’t . . . I don’t understand. Keegan . . .” Raab opened one of the metal suitcases. It was full of hard drives, thumb drives, videotapes, notebooks. Rainee knew immediately this was gold.

  “Open the other one,” Keegan said.

  It had cash, bonds, passports, and notebooks.

  Keegan said to Rainee, “Do you need to go into the lab?”

  “I don’t think so,” Rainee said. “I think what we have here is the heart and soul of this establishment’s activities. He wouldn’t leave home without them, would you, Lester?”

  Raab stared at her.

  Keegan tapped him on the head lightly with his gun. “Is she right?”

  “Yes.”

  As she looked at this mess of a man, this obviously drugged, sagging, frightened would-be king of the world, she became aware of just how much she detested him.

  Raab turned to Keegan. “Are you going to tell me what is going on?”

  “You’re under citizen’s arrest,” Rainee said.

  “What?”

  Keegan said, “We’re going for a little ride, Doc.” He turned to Rainee. “You sure this is good to go?”

  “I know this man. He’s not packed and ready to flee without all that’s
important. He’s very organized.”

  “Rainee, you can’t do this. You don’t understand,” Raab muttered as Keegan pulled him to his feet while Rainee closed the suitcases.

  Duran came into the room. “We’re clear below. Metzler will come up when the chopper’s fired and ready for takeoff.”

  “Doc, the chopper key, now!” Keegan demanded.

  Raab handed him the keys.

  “Rainee, this is insane,” Raab stammered as Keegan pushed him toward a narrow staircase that obviously led to the roof.

  “We’ll have plenty of time to talk later,” Rainee said.

  Rainee caught a glimpse of a very distressing, enraged, and confused expression on the face of her former colleague, a man she’d thought all these years was dead, and who was in fact a major player in something beyond her grasp, yet at the moment looked so small and unthreatening, pitiful. This was the future?

  It reminded her of a famous line from writer Hannah Arendt about the banality of evil.

  Keegan escorted Raab up the narrow staircase that led to the roof. Duran had the two suitcases and went up next.

  As she was leaving, Rainee glanced at some pictures on the wall and realized with shock, they were of her! Two of them were blown up semi-nude shots in black and white. Another was of her running.

  Jesus Christ, he’s had somebody photographing me. Tracking me.

  When she reached the roof, Raab was yelling at Keegan, “Damn you, you have no chance. Colonel Tessler and major forces are on their way. You have no chance of getting out of here. You’ll get us all killed!”

  “You’re going to tell Colonel Tessler to back off. If, that is, you want to stay alive,” Keegan said, spinning Raab around so hard he fell. Keegan picked him up off the roof deck.

  Keegan handed Raab his phone.

  When he hesitated, Rainee said, “Lester, we have everything we need in those suitcases. We don’t actually need you. So I’d cooperate.”

  Raab gave her a bitter look, but he made the call. “Colonel, pull back. Don’t interfere. And if there are other security forces on the way, tell them to stand down as well.”

  Keegan took the phone, put it in his pocket, and said, “Let’s get airborne, folks. We need to move on.”

  As he was pushed toward the chopper, Raab said, “Rainee, you’re making a big mistake. This is wrong. You’ll never—”

  “You need to shut up,” Duran said.

  Keegan was already on board and firing up the chopper.

  Raab pleaded with Rainee, “They’ll never let us leave. Never. I’m the only one who can keep you alive. Rainee, whatever you’re doing can’t work. My people are everywhere. You have no idea what you’re interfering with.”

  Rainee helped pushed him on board. “It’s over, Lester, for better or worse. You need to deal with that.”

  Duran put the suitcases in the chopper and said, “All aboard!”

  Raab, as she pushed him into a seat, shouted like a drunk man, “You never understood anything, goddamnit! You can’t stop this. You don’t even know what the hell it’s about. Your country is in chaos, heading for collapse. We’re trying to save the country!”

  “It does need saving,” Rainee said. “But you and your friends aren’t the ones to do it.”

  Duran put zip ties on Raab’s wrists, locked him down to the side seat, and gave him a little tap on the side of his head. “Settle.”

  Rainee buckled herself into the seat directly across from Raab.

  As the chopper reached full power, Metzler ran across the roof and hopped aboard. “You weren’t going to leave without me, were you?”

  Rainee said, “I can’t leave you behind. Not until I have a look in that brain of yours.”

  Metzler grinned. “My mother always said I’d amount to something. But she never said if that something would be good or bad.”

  “We’ll be the judge of that,” Duran said.

  Rainee glanced out the open chopper door as they slanted off into the predawn. In the distance, coming along the mountainside through the trees, the lights of three vehicles were moving fast in the direction of the Facility.

  The chopper rose, swung off over the hillock, and slanted out into the predawn sky.

  60

  Colonel Tessler’s worst fears had been confirmed. And getting back was delayed simply by his having to run to his chopper and get the pilot to bring it back up to full power.

  He’d been outfoxed. It was brilliant and the last thing anyone would have expected unless they were paying attention. And he hadn’t. He cursed himself for that.

  How had this happened? How had she gotten to Keegan!

  And once that was obvious, of course Keegan would come up with an offense. They had never intended to escape to South America. Of course! Keegan knew everything about the Facility and its stand-down mode.

  Why did I not know?

  Colonel Tessler was furious with himself. Keegan and Metzler weren’t the type to run and hide. They would go on the offensive and that damn doctor had aided and abetted. He couldn’t stand that he hadn’t seen the obvious.

  I missed it, I missed it! Jesus, I trained them. Of course they would go on the offensive!

  He tried to get Raab and failed again and again.

  “Answer your goddamn phone,” he pleaded as he made his way to the chopper.

  And then it got worse when he got the report from a nearby compound security that a chopper had lifted from the roof of the Facility.

  So he now tried to go straight to Keegan. “Seneca . . . report. Seneca!”

  Nothing.

  “Intercept,” Tessler ordered his pilot. The electronic pickup would give them the flight location and they’d be able to intercept and force Raab’s chopper down or, worst case, shoot it down.

  Tessler had full authority to resolve any crisis that threatened the operation, but he didn’t like what that might entail—destroying his best man and the doctor who had created him.

  “We’re dead,” Raab insisted, yelling over the rotor engine noise. “They’ll shoot us down.”

  Rainee stared at this pathetic and scared man.

  Keegan flew the chopper with a mad finesse, dropping low into the valley, and then curled around the hill before slanting back to the Vereen compound. He circled to check if any vehicles were there, then dropped in behind the walls close to the front of the villa.

  Rainee got out, following Duran and Metzler, who were out of the chopper’s open side doors and on the ground before they touched down.

  They ran to the house. Mora lay on the bed where they’d left him. He was conscious. He said, “Well, about time.”

  “We couldn’t find anything better to do,” Duran said.

  They picked him up on the makeshift stretcher.

  “I hope you didn’t like this place too much,” Rainee said as they moved out of the room.

  “Hotels are hotels. You get the goods you were after?”

  “We did,” Rainee said.

  They carried Mora to the chopper, lifted him on board, and secured him on a real stretcher. He looked over at Raab. “This little man was our target?”

  “That’s him,” Rainee said. She sent Jason Styles a text. They were on their way and would need an ambulance.

  As the chopper rose off into the sky, headed for the ocean, Rainee sent a second text consisting of letters and numbers that would tell her contact on Coronado that they had succeeded and would like an escort immediately.

  They flew west toward the Pacific as the first hint of dawn slipped shyly across the hills.

  They hugged the trees, the roads, the low, rugged valleys and hills, nearly clipping tree tops so close, Rainee thought she could reach out and pick leaves.

  Keegan broke the silence. “We’ve got company coming, ladies and gentlemen. It’s gonna get tricky. Hold tight.”

  Rainee looked over at Doctor Lester Raab. She said, loud over the noise of the engine and rotors, “I want you to know, if we die tonight, I never l
iked you and never really had much respect for your talents. By the way, seeing those pictures in your bedroom was pathetic.”

  Metzler and Duran took up positions on either side in the open doorways, both with their weapons. The doors had small, fold-down seats with belts to hold them in. Both men secured themselves.

  When the chopper slanted one way, then the other, Rainee grabbed a wall strap with one hand, Mora’s stretcher with the other.

  61

  Colonel Tessler tried to contact Raab’s security as they raced across the hills toward the Facility, but that went nowhere.

  Then, before they were two minutes in the air, his pilot said, “Sir, we have a read. It appears Blue Star One is going down, signal weakening. We’re losing him.”

  “What the hell happened?”

  “Either crashing or landing.”

  “You have the location?”

  “Lost the exact read,” his pilot said. “He’s not far from the Facility. It looks like Vereen’s compound.”

  As his fast chopper raced across Baja toward the Facility, Tessler stared at the trees rolling beneath them and wondered what kind of game Keegan was up to now.

  One minute, Tessler hoped they had crashed and were all dead. The next, that they had landed for some mechanical reason and he could take them.

  But it was the third option that he feared: if it was Keegan, he could be drawing them into a trap, an ambush from the ground.

  Tessler warned his pilot. “Seneca, that son of a bitch is capable of just about anything.”

  The colonel had always prided himself on moving around in even the worst combat scenarios without allowing fear to interfere. He believed in ironclad emotional control. But this was different. He didn’t fear for his life, or his safety—he feared being part of, and partially having created, a disaster with terrible potential repercussions. It would be like being part of yet another failure. He couldn’t deal with that.

  Tessler knew he’d made some very wrong assumptions in L.A. and now they might be catastrophic. His teams were the tips of the spears. Failure was unthinkable. Not now. Not when he had such a major role.