Shattered Lies

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Shattered Lies Page 23

by Kathleen Brooks


  Kirby slapped his back and Alex grabbed the trashcan and puked.

  “Sorry,” Kirby cringed. “You two did good. Give the coordinates to the drone.”

  Roxie sent them off to Grant who was carrying the Raven drone. He would assemble it and fly it from his location. Soon a feed came online as the drone was launched.

  “Here we go,” Kirby said, crossing his arms over his chest and watching.

  * * *

  He looked into the television where he projected the videoconference. “What the hell am I looking at?”

  “It’s the location of Dan March’s cell phone, señor.”

  He sat up on his couch with surprise. He’d been woken in the middle of the night by Manuel, and that normally didn’t bode well. The past two days had been shit, and he was plotting his next move. He’d put this whole plot into motion, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to let Birch Stratton ruin it for him, no matter how many people he had working with him now. He shook his head. He’d been cut off from the president, and it worried him.

  “Dan March? That bastard. Where the fuck is he?”

  “Ten miles west of San Diego, heading into port.”

  Right now he needed Dan. He had thought he was dead, but the son of a bitch must have survived and slowly made his way back from the South China Sea on a boat. “Go get him. Give him whatever he needs—men, food, weapons. I don’t know how the president found out about us, but we need to shut him up and fast. Send him to DC with orders to take Birch out once and for all.”

  “I’ll send my men now.”

  He disconnected from the video call and ran his hands over his face. Where had everything gone wrong? Well, at least one thing he was sure of. He didn’t become as rich and powerful as he did by giving up when things got tough. No, he would fight this to the bitter end. Presidents came and went, but power . . . you held on to that. You accumulated that over time. And he’d accumulated a lot of power. Enough power to take down a sitting president, that was for sure.

  * * *

  “So, do you love her?” Dalton asked Grant as they lay on the ground of the mountain, hidden by rocks.

  Grant didn’t answer. Below them was the entrance to the tunnels. Grant maneuvered the drone to the coordinates Alex had given them, but so far he didn’t see any movement.

  “Stop pretending you can only do one thing at a time. I’ve seen you lay cover fire as you carried out a patient. You can damn well talk to me while you play your video game,” Dalton ribbed.

  “Of course I bloody well love her,” Grant said, zooming in on the solar panels.

  “Have you told her?”

  “No. I’ve been a wee bit busy. But when I do, it’ll be more romantic than your proposal.” Grant grunted. “There’s no movement.”

  “Do you feel that?” Dalton asked.

  Grant pressed his hand to the rock and closed his eye. “There’s a vibration.”

  “Get ready,” Dalton said quietly into his coms. “Is everyone in position?”

  “Yes,” came the soft replies.

  A moment later the door below them opened and six men rushed out speaking quickly in Spanish. Grant grabbed Dalton’s ankles and Dalton reached down to the door before it shut and wedged a piece of cardboard along the top of the doorjamb. The door looked closed, but there was enough of a buffer to prevent the lock from engaging.

  No one seemed to notice as they tore the camouflaged tarps from the helicopter. The pilot climbed into the helicopter and the five men stepped into the back as the engine was turned on and the blades began to spin.

  “There’s only room for one more person on the return trip,” Grant said after pulling Dalton back up and hiding behind the rock.

  “That makes sense. They think they’re picking up Dan. But where did they come from?”

  “There must be a structure under the solar panels.” Grant and Dalton rolled onto their stomachs and hid their heads as the helicopter took off. From the air, their camo would hide them well enough.

  They listened to the helicopter take off and fly west toward San Diego before moving. Grant moved the drone to see the cars beneath the structure and confirmed people were there. Grant dropped to the ground outside the door and propped it open with a rock. Dalton hurried to the various cars covered by the tarps and slashed all the tires as Lizzy, Janet, and Valeria made their way to the door.

  “Six men left with the intention of coming back with seven. Taking the helicopter tells me they’re interested in speed and getting Dan March back here immediately. We don’t know how many are left behind, but if Manuel is here, there will be some tough fighting ahead of us,” Grant told them as Dalton jogged over to join them.

  “The middle SUV is ours. I took off the distributor cap.” He held up the small object that would prevent the car from starting and put it into his pocket.

  “Manuel always has four men with him,” Valeria cut in. “Two like to act tough and shoot anything that moves, but they’re easy targets since they can’t hit a target to save their lives. They’ll just spray the area with a rifle. It’s the two quiet ones you need to worry about. One is good with knives. He’s the one with a beard. The tallest is a crack shot. Go after those two first.”

  “We need either Manuel or Roland alive. Preferably both,” Lizzy told them. “If this is indeed where Sebastian was taken, and if Sebastian is telling the truth, then Roland may very well be here and can lead us to the head of Mollia Domini.”

  “Got it,” Janice said, looking at the body cam she was wearing. “Ready for us to turn this on?”

  “Let’s go,” Dalton said as she and Lizzy turned their body cams on. Dalton and Grant slipped into the tunnel. Grant felt Valeria’s hand tap his shoulder letting him know she had his back. Grant looked at Dalton and then to the lights. The tunnel had electricity.

  “There could be cameras,” Grant whispered.

  Dalton nodded and halted the group with a quick hand signal. He reached up and inspected the wiring. He pulled out his knife, and with a quick slice the lights went out. Grant lowered his night-vision goggles and felt Valeria’s tap again. She was ready. He tapped Dalton and they were off.

  The tunnel smelled of earth and was noticeably cooler than outside. The walls were reinforced with wood as thin wires connected the exposed bulbs that hung along the wall by nails. What was more interesting were the metal railroad tracks down the middle of the tunnel. It was probably used to move heavy amounts of drugs into the US. When he looked back, he noticed Janet aiming her camera at them. Valeria was three feet behind him, and Lizzy was similarly behind Dalton. Both had their weapons drawn.

  Grant looked ahead. They moved quickly and quietly farther down the tunnel. The tunnel seemed to go on and on before it began to widen. Railroad carts were off to the side. A forklift was ready to be used. Shovels, crates, and old pallets were stacked against the wall. Ten yards ahead of them was a door that matched the door on the outside of the mountain.

  The tunnel was over half a mile long and let out on the other side of the border. The distance lined up with the cell tower he saw from the mountains on the US side. Grant motioned for the women to take cover behind the forklift as he and Dalton got to work with the explosives. Explosive breaching wasn’t the first thing they wanted to do. It was dangerous, and it took knowing the precise amount of C4 to use. Too little and the door wouldn’t open, but Manuel would know they were there. Too much and the whole tunnel could collapse on them.

  Dalton and Grant fell to the ground and set up the detonating cord, blasting caps, and C4 along a wooden lath. Grant used his teeth to tear the specialized tape to bind everything together. Carefully, they lifted it to the door. As Dalton held it, Grant taped it to the metal. Lizzy, Valeria, and Janet pushed a heavy railway cart to the right of door. Grant wanted to yell at them for not staying put, but he knew exactly what they were doing, and it was the right call. Grant stepped back behind the nearby forklift to the left of the door and felt Valeria grab his arm behind him
as Dalton primed the det cord and lit it. Dalton headed for the rail cart feet from the door where Lizzy and Janet stood pressed against the wall.

  Instead of hiding, they readied their weapons. They looked down briefly as the C4 exploded and then they charged forward. The rush of battle filled Grant as he and Dalton raced through the opening with guns raised.

  30

  Valeria pushed past the smoke and saw they were in a storage area. Drugs wrapped in bricks were packed five feet high on pallets. On the far side of the square underground room, a door was thrown open.

  Dalton shot and a man dropped, revealing a set of stairs. Valeria could hear the footsteps above as people reacted to the explosion. Lizzy and Val took cover behind a pallet of heroin five feet from the door as Dalton and Grant took each side of the door.

  Dalton looked to Grant, who gave a nod and then went low. He fired as Dalton tossed a flash grenade up the stairs. The men flattened themselves against the wall, covered their ears, and closed their eyes. Valeria did the same as she felt the sound from the grenade shake her body like a clap of thunder. She took a deep breath and pushed aside the nerves. She used the fear to propel herself up the stairs behind Dalton and Grant.

  They were pinned at the top of the stairs. Dalton was low and Grant was high as they fired into the main part of the living area. The ceilings were low, only seven or eight feet, but it was above ground. The solar panels were essentially the roof. The floor was polished cement and there was a large black leather sectional couch, a polished table in a white kitchen, and behind that were closed doors, probably leading to bedrooms.

  Valeria looked around. There was a window behind them, but too high up for her to reach from the stair landing. If Manuel had any sense, he’d be trying an escape, and she couldn’t let that happen. Valeria turned among the smoke and smell of gunfire and shot out the window.

  “Lizzy, help me up!”

  Lizzy looked toward the window and back to Valeria and cupped her hands.

  “What are you doing?” Grant yelled.

  “Clearing the outside. I’ll come around in through the back and trap them.”

  Before Grant could argue, Valeria put her foot in Lizzy’s hand and was boosted up and out of the window. The morning sun was beginning to rise as the dark dampness of the tunnel seemed far away.

  Valeria whirled at the sound behind her and saw Janet drop to the ground next to her. Janet didn’t say anything, just continued scanning the area. Four cars were lined up to their right near the front door of the compound. Valeria closed her eyes and focused on the sounds between the bullets. The sound of glass shattering told her Manuel was coming right to her.

  Valeria ran crouched over to the nearest car. She opened the gas tank and tore a strip off her shirt. She stuffed it down into the gas tank and then lit the end dangling out. There was no way she’d let Manuel escape.

  “Come on,” she whispered to Janet as they both ran to the front door of the house. The house was painted desert tan with only small narrow windows above her head. No wonder they had trouble seeing it.

  At the sound of heavy footsteps running toward them, Valeria raised her weapon and pressed her right side against the house. Janet dropped to her knee just to Valeria’s left and aimed for the men running toward them. In less than a split second, Valeria and Janet saw who was in front, decided it wasn’t Manuel, and fired. The two men dropped as Val aimed her gun around the corner. Manuel darted behind a solar tower support as a volley of gunfire erupted from the house.

  “Manuel Hernandez, DEA, put your weapon down and come out with your hands up,” Valeria yelled a second before the fire reached the gas tank. The car exploded, shooting up and breaking some of the solar panels and rocking the rest of them. Valeria made her move. She ran to where Manuel was hiding right as Manuel stepped out with his knife.

  “Watch out!” Janet screamed but it was too late. The knife sliced and Valeria screamed in pain.

  * * *

  Grant counted five men. Three of his team were left in the building. It should be easy, but the enemy was hiding behind the polished concrete island and an overturned natural wood dining table. An explosion shook the house, sending the solar panels rocking above them. Above all the noise, Grant heard a scream.

  “Val!”

  “Focus, Grant,” Dalton ordered as he fired a round of shots into the dining table.

  “We need to make a move,” Grant said as he looked around the room. “Cover me, and I’ll run for the couch.”

  Grant didn’t wait for Dalton to agree because he knew he wouldn’t. The chance of being shot was high, but something needed to be done or Manuel and Roland would escape while they were pinned down in the stairwell.

  Grant focused on where he wanted to run and kept low as he darted around the furniture. His shoulder was already sore from the shots Locke fired into his vest in New York, and he wasn’t surprised when he felt bullets slam into him once again.

  Grant dove for cover behind the couch. He slid on the polished concrete floors and slammed his shoulder and head into the leather couch. Adrenaline was pumping as he hunkered down and felt the soreness, shortness of breath, and blood. Not all the shots had been stopped by the vest. Blood bubbled from a bullet wound on the outside of his upper arm before disappearing under the dark camo he wore, but he felt the hot sticky liquid running a path down his arm.

  Grant held up his hand signaling to Dalton to lay cover before pulling out two handguns and taking a deep breath. Lizzy had taken Grant’s place by the doorjamb and the two opened fire on the two locations on opposite sides of the room. Grant crouched and then exploded. He leapt onto the couch and launched himself up and over the back of it. He sailed through the air and over the table where two men were hiding. Grant’s momentum slowed when a bullet ripped into his leg from behind the counter on the other side of the room at the same time a scream came from the same spot. Grant dropped like a weight to the ground, rolling with guns in hand as he fired.

  The two men behind the table hadn’t even turned all the way around when the bullets tore into their heads. Suddenly there was silence as Grant, Dalton, and Lizzy looked around.

  Dalton ran across the room with Lizzy right behind him. “Are you hurt?”

  “Nah, just a couple holes.” Grant looked down at the blood dripping out the cuff of his sleeve and down at the dark hole in his hip.

  “We need to dress that,” Dalton said, pulling out his first-aid kit.

  “No time. Find Roland and Manuel. I’m fine.” Grant took a deep breath and pushed himself against the wall to stand. His arm was numb, but his hip was on fire, a burning feeling so hot he swore his blood was going to boil. “See, I’m fine.”

  “You’re white and sweat is pouring off your face,” Lizzy pointed out.

  “Yet I can still shoot a gun, so let’s go.”

  Grant turned to the two doors behind them. “Dalton and I will take this one. Can you get that one?” he asked her.

  Lizzy didn’t bother answering. Instead she stepped up to the door and waited for Dalton to get into position. Grant held up an open palm with his pointer finger sticking out. “One,” he silently mouthed before a second finger joined the countdown. On the silent three, Dalton and Lizzy kicked in the doors.

  A man’s scream came from the door Dalton had breached as Grant cursed with each step he took. Leaning against the doorjamb on his good side, he swept the area while Dalton bent over the bed and grabbed a pair of very nice loafers. Attached to the loafers were expensive trousers. And in those trousers was Roland Westwood.

  “The other room is clear. Window broken. And it’s much nicer than this one. I’m guessing that was Manuel’s room,” Lizzy said as a smile grew on her face watching Dalton trying to wrangle a slippery Roland who was trying to flail out of his grasp.

  “Then where is Manuel?” Grant asked.

  “Where’s Valeria?” Lizzy asked as they both turned to look out front where the explosion had been.

  * * *


  The knife tore through her shirt and sliced her shoulder open. “Shit!” Valeria screamed as the pain shot through her. Manuel was already moving. He was running toward the car farthest from the fireball threatening to ignite the second car.

  Gunfire sounded as Janet took aim and peppered the car with bullets. Valeria ignored the pain and sprinted after Manuel, who paused momentarily, trying to decide which direction to run now that his two bodyguards were dead. He spun to face her, and the gun he pulled out had Valeria leaping behind the metal base of a solar panel for protection.

  “Manuel Hernandez,” Janet called out. “We’re DEA agents. You’re under arrest by the authority of the US and Mexican governments. Put down your gun and lie on the ground.”

  Valeria yelled it out in Spanish even though she knew Manuel spoke perfect English. She wasn’t going to have him suddenly claim he didn’t know what was happening because he didn’t understand what they were saying.

  Manuel responded by firing a shot at her. It pinged off the metal base. Janet began to fire and Valeria ran. It would be much easier if they didn’t want him alive. Valeria pumped her arms as she pushed herself faster. Right before she jumped, Manuel turned and fired.

  * * *

  Grant shoved open the front door right in time to see Manuel raise his gun and fire it at Valeria. The momentum of the bullet counteracted her forward movement and sent her flying back.

  “NO!” Grant yelled, running straight at Manuel, firing. Manuel turned to run, but then Valeria rolled over onto her hands and knees behind Manuel. She raised her gun and fired. Manuel’s knee buckled as he fell to the ground. In a flurry of Spanish and Gaelic, Valeria cursed as she slowly pulled herself upright and tugged at the Velcro holding on her Kevlar vest. With a gasp, she dragged in air as the vest dangled open at the sides.

  “Motherfucker!!” she yelled in three different languages as Manuel turned and raised his gun. Valeria slammed her foot into his face, sending him flying backward and crying out in pain.

 

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