The Grey Man- Partners

by JL Curtis

  The old man double clicked the mic in answer, and hoped everyone else was awake. He finally heard the grinding of diesel engines lugging up a hill in low gear, and he snuggled back down into position.

  A minute later he heard, “These are our guys. I think they are La Familia Michoacana I’m pretty sure I recognized the guy in the first truck. They are armed, but I don’t see any active guns up. Second truck is closed, that may be the weapons. Third truck is open bed with a cover. I see people in it, maybe twenty. Fourth truck is open bed, covered, looks like more guards. Fifth truck is empty except for driver.”

  The old man saw headlights reflecting off the trees, and snugged down on the gun. Seeing the first truck come around the hairpin, he realized it was a Suburban, the same year as his from the headlights. “One to Three, any indication of armor on vehicles?”

  Huerta replied in an abashed tone, “No indication One.”

  Jeff said, “Six has them entering the zone.”

  The old man started breathing deeply and pushed the safety off, Remember, aim low, bullets will deflect up through glass. Slow and easy… Slow and easy… Shoot the zero.

  Bob called, “First truck is slowing. Standby. Front of the zone in three, two, one. Shoot!”

  The old man let out a breath and pressed the trigger, heard the soft pop of the round and immediately racked the bolt, chambering a second round and following up his first shot. He saw the vehicle slow even further and immediately racked the bolt, switched his aim to the left side of the windshield and put two quick shots there, as a corner of his mind wondered if anyone else was shooting.

  He saw the door behind the driver open, and he waited until he saw a profile there to take his last shot, he dropped that individual with a chest shot. Quickly loading another five rounds by feel, he glanced around and saw Aaron firing, and winking of fire from the top of the little bluff.

  Tomas keyed up, “Back door is closed. Second and third trucks are the cargo. Engaging the fourth truck from the hairpin now.” A rattle of AK and what sounded like Ingram fire started up, but it was all directed at the bluff.

  “Six is on the fourth truck.”

  “Five, anybody bailing toward the drop off?”

  Willie responded, “Not yet.”

  Spears called, “Taking fire from truck three. Engaging.”

  “They’re bailing.”

  “Wi… Seven, you got ‘em?”

  “They’re ragheads. Beards and all, engaging.”

  The old man eased up from his position and moved slowly down the side of the road toward the first truck, “One’s going to the lead truck.” Can’t believe nobody is shooting at me. This is strange. It’s like these guys have never seen a real ambush before. They’re just pouring fire back at the guys on the bluff!

  Stopping next to Willie, the old man scanned the trucks and people bailing to see if anyone was coming their way. Willie was methodically picking off the cartel shooters as they attempted to hide behind the truck. Not a single shooter turned their way.

  “Runner. Heading west.”

  Spears responded calmly, “Not anymore.”

  Bob called, “Cease fire, cease fire.” A single shot rang out and he repeated, “Cease fire, dammit!”

  Huerta yelled out in Spanish for everyone to lay down, and six people did, the others hesitated, then Jeff yelled out the command in both Pashtu and Urdu, and the rest of them laid down where they were.

  The old man keyed the mic, “Headcount. One. No injuries.”

  Amazingly, all ten keyed up as uninjured. As Bob and the others started down from the bluff, Aaron suddenly called, “Movement, truck two cab.” Everyone froze, and the old man tried to get a good sight picture, but there was enough glare that he didn’t shoot. The driver’s side door opened, and a body fell out, followed by a second body.

  The second body got slowly to its feet, and Willie keyed, “Aw shit. Looks like he’s got a suicide vest on.”

  Jeff yelled out commands again to get down, and the figure ignored him. Raising his voice, the figure started yelling in Pashtu, and Spears keyed up, “He’s praying and challenging his cohorts to die on their feet. Now he’s calling them cowards. Shit, I can see a couple of them getting up…”

  Willie said softly, “I got this.”

  The old man said, “Eight, standby on the det cord if we need it. Seven, you want backup?” Quickly leaning against the tree, the old man brought up his rifle and scoped to try to see what was going on, but the figure had his back to him, and the old man couldn’t find Willie either.

  As he was trying to decide what to do, the old man saw a shadow rise up behind the figure and suddenly the figure and the shadow disappeared. A second later, there was a loud explosion from down the drop off. The men on the ground were getting up and the old man said softly, “Blow it, Eight. Blow it now.”

  Fire ripped the night, along with screams as the det cord ran from end to end in less than a tenth of second, killing those lying on the ground, and badly injuring those who had started to stand or were standing.

  The old man set his rifle down, drew the 1911 and proceeded to shoot the injured from his position as Huerta started shooting them from the other end. Spears searched the fourth and fifth trucks, then started on the third with Huerta’s help as Ron and Jeff stood overwatch.

  Bob and Mo, along with Aaron, were checking the cargo in the enclosed truck after determining there wasn’t anyone riding in the back of the truck, while Tomas, Spears, Duck, and Ron searched the bodies on the ground. Tomas was throwing documents and other pocket trash in a backpack, methodically rolling each body over and taking a picture of the face with his cell phone.

  The old man keyed up, “Headcount? Anybody seen Seven?”

  Everybody counted off except Willie. Ron stood at the side of the drop off and looked down, “I can see something about twenty or thirty feet down. I’m going to climb down.”

  The old man keyed his mic, “Do it. Anybody see any rope? In case we need to get him back up?”

  Spears said, “There’s some rope in the fourth truck.”

  The old man looked in the second truck, confirmed there were packing cases containing Crossbow and Grinch MANPADS and said, “Two, get some pictures of these, then let’s load the bodies in this truck.” Turning to Mo, he continued, “Can you rig this truck and the next one with grenades? Figure out some way to delay detonation until we push them over the side?”

  Mo nodded, “I can do that, you want to blow both trucks?”

  The old man replied, “Yes. Sooner rather than later. Somebody is going to come investigate that explosion, middle of the night or not.”

  Ron came up panting, a knife in hand, “It’s Willie’s. I saw what looked like two bodies, or what was left of two bodies. I didn’t see either of his guns though.”

  The old man sighed, “Okay. Ron, you and Jeff go get the vans. Check this side of road in case Willie dropped them.” Looking around he saw Tomas climbing out of the second truck, “Got pictures?”

  Tomas said, “Yes, Captain. And I counted fifteen Muslims that appeared to be fighters, with the one down the drop off, that would make sixteen, which matches the intel we got. LFM was the cartel doing the transfer, so I want to burn them with the handlers too!”

  The old man replied, “Okay, you can do that later, but I want to finish this quickly. I don’t like staying here any longer than we have to.”

  Mo finished rigging the third truck with the MANPADS, now containing the bodies of most of the Muslims, and closed the back doors softly, “Okay, this one is ready.”

  Aaron, Bob, Duck and others had loaded the remaining bodies in the third truck along with the drivers of the fourth and fifth trucks, as Ron and Jeff pulled up with the two vans, lighting up the scene. Mo started wiring that truck up with the remaining four thermite grenades as Jeff trotted over, “Found a rifle and pistol leading against a tree up there. I’m assuming they are Willie’s.”

  The old man asked, “Tree with a fo
rk about five feet up?” Jeff nodded, and the old man continued, “Those are his. Make sure we keep track of them.”

  Jeff replied, “I safed them and they’re in the back of the second van.”

  Aaron and Bob came back carrying the runner Spears had shot and Duck helped them throw the body in the third truck. Mo repositioned the body to tamp down one of the grenades, and trailing twine, hopped down from the bed, “Cap’n, I’m ready to set this one up. All I need to do is tie off these strings. How you want to get them over the side?”

  The old man realized the Suburban was still running, and he shook his head, I’m getting too old for this shit. I didn’t even think to check the vehicles. Glancing at his watch, he was amazed that only fifteen minutes had passed. Damn! That firefight couldn’t have lasted more than a couple of minutes, total. “Ideally drive them over the edge, otherwise push them over. Aaron, check that second truck and see if it’ll start. Bob, check the third one please.”

  Aaron jumped into the cab and the truck rumbled to life seconds later. Bob ground the starter on the third truck, but it refused to start. He banged the steering wheel in frustration. The old man turned to Ron, “Can you bring the Suburban behind the third truck? I want to see if it can push the truck.”

  Ron jumped in the driver’s seat of the Suburban, pulled up, backed up, and finally got positioned behind the third truck. Easing forward, he put the bumper against the back bumper of the truck and fed in the gas as Bob eased off on the brakes. The old Suburban groaned, but it moved the truck and the old man gave him a thumbs up.

  Tomas came up, “Captain, we need to go. I have pictures and documents that will be proof of what and who were being smuggled in.”

  The old man said, “Agreed! Start rounding people up and loading up the vans.” Jogging up to the second truck, he asked Aaron, “Can you get it moving toward the edge and get clear of the truck?”

  Aaron nodded, “Whenever you’re ready. I’ll put it in gear, brace the door open, and jump as soon as I get close to the edge.”

  The old man trotted back to the third truck and the Suburban, asked the same questions and got the same answers. Looking around the scene, he saw that everyone else was loaded up and ready to go, and he motioned to Aaron to go ahead.

  Aaron bumped the truck into gear, revved the engine and got it rolling toward the edge. As the left front wheel started dipping, Aaron jumped clear, getting smacked by the door as he fell and rolled. Ron immediately started pushing the third truck and Bob steered to miss Aaron as he lay on the ground. Jumping clear as the third truck went over the edge, he helped Aaron up.

  Ron had been rooting around in the Suburban, and finally released the brake, opened the door, and stepped on the gas. As the Suburban started moving, he stepped out and jammed the accelerator with an Ingram. It leapt forward and over the drop off, as the first thermite grenades started going off.

  As they piled into the vans, there was a flash and a rumbling explosion with small mushroom cloud floated up from the drop off. Jeff and Tomas pulled quickly away to the east, and the old man pulled a burner phone out of his gear. Dialing, he finally heard Montoya answer.

  “It’s done. The delivery has been refused as directed and the paperwork retrieved.”

  Montoya replied, “I will have your transportation at the usual place in two hours. Thank you.” The old man shut off the phone and slipped it back in his blouse pocket.

  Turning to Tomas he said, “Helos will be here in two hours. We’ll make a quick pass back by the safe house, clean it out and go directly to the airfield.”

  Tomas nodded, “Some of us might need to change uniforms. With the blood and all, they probably don’t want that in their helo.”

  The old man nodded, “Good point.” That’s what I’ve been smelling, that fresh copper smell, mixed with cordite. I’m truly too old for this, when I miss details like that. Back in the day, we just dealt with it by jumping in a stream or a river to wash down, since we were out for weeks at a time.

  The old man turned as he caught a flash of light out of the back seat, he saw Duck bandaging Mo’s arm and he snapped, “What happened Mo? You didn’t say anything about being injured!”

  Mo shrugged, then winced, “Not really hurt Cap’n, more like just a scratch. Uhhhh. Dammit Duck, I need some pain pills if you gonna yank on me like that!”

  Duck shook his head, “Scratch my ass, I don’t call a through and through a scratch. You don’t know where that bullet has been.” Duck pulled a syringe out of his bag, filled it, cleared the air bubble, and hit Mo in the thigh with it.

  “What the fu…” Mo yelped.

  “Some Doctor Feelgood Mo… Not! Just some antibiotics. Take two aspirin, and don’t call me in the morning.”

  ***

  A little after three in the morning, the two helos landed in front of the hacienda at Akumal, and everybody offloaded along with their backpacks and weapons. Bob had Willie’s backpack, and Jeff had both Willie’s guns.

  The old man stood on the front steps and said, “Everybody get some sleep. Team meeting at noon.”

  Grumbles and grousing followed as everyone trooped into the hacienda and off to their various rooms.

  Breaking it Down

  The old man walked slowly into the living room of the hacienda, cradling a cup of coffee in his hand. He walked over to the small safe, spun the dial, opened the safe and took out Willie’s letter.

  Sitting heavily in a chair, he took a sip of coffee and set the cup on the table. He ran his pocketknife under the flap and pulled the single page out.

  To whom it may concern,

  If you’re reading this, I didn’t make it. I, Joaquin William Garcia direct that any monies due to my heirs go to Racheal Grace Garcia, San Lucy Res, San Lucy, Arizona in trust for Joaquin William Garcia, Jr.

  Signed Willie Garcia

  The old man looked up wearily, “Morning, Aaron. What are you doing up?”

  “Morning, John. Couldn’t sleep.” Pointing to the letter he asked, “Willie’s?”

  The old man nodded, “Yeah.” Aaron sat on the couch and the old man passed it across to him, “I didn’t know he was married or had any children.”

  Aaron scrubbed his face as he read it, “Damn, neither did I. He never mentioned anyone. Now what?”

  The old man replied, “I’ll let Billy handle it through Phoenix. I guess there isn’t any way to let the family know that he died a hero. And there’s no body to send back, so…”

  Aaron sighed, “At least in the military, the CO writes a letter. It’s usually bullshit, but at least they get a letter.”

  Tomas strolled in, backpack over his shoulder, “Morning, Senors. A fine day!”

  The old man asked, “Anything worthwhile in the stuff you picked up?”

  Tomas smiled broadly, “Oh yes! Phone numbers in America for their contacts, and one of the idiots kept a journal. We’ve got their entire route, and how they were recruited!” Handing the old man two thumb drives, he continued, “These are copies of all the papers, the pictures I took last night, and license numbers of all the vehicles.” Tomas yawned, “And now, a few hours of sleep!”

  The old man accepted the two drives and dropped them in his shirt pocket as he thought about what do to next, “What do you want me to do with these?”

  “I’m sure Larry will want one, and maybe your DEA contacts? Other than that, I don’t know Senor.”

  The old man nodded, “I can do that. Thanks, Tomas. Now get some sleep.”

  Aaron stood and stretched, “What are we going to do with the weapons?”

  The old man hesitated, “Um, good question. I guess clean them, pack them back up, and put them back on the boat. I don’t think we want to just leave them here.”

  “That makes sense. That way, there won’t be a trail anybody can find that could potentially lead back to any operation. Just have to make sure all the prints are wiped off too,” I’ll get started on that now.”

  ***

  Ron set th
e steaming skillet of shredded beef on the counter and said, “Okay, dig in.” As everyone filed by and filled their plates with tacos or burritos and beans, the chatter was relaxed and cheerful.

  The old man quickly finished his tacos and rapped on his glass, “Listen up.” The chatter quieted quickly, and the old man picked up his glass, “A toast to Willie. He gave his life for us.” Tomas crossed himself as everyone raised their glasses and various replies were heard. Absent comrades, Sláinte, Prost, Salud, and Mo surprised everyone by solemnly reciting the Irish toast:

  May the road rise to meet you.

  May the wind be always at your back.

  May the sun shine warm upon your face.

  And rains fall soft upon your fields.

  And may you be in heaven thirty minutes,

  Before the devil knows you’re dead.

  Everyone raised their glasses again, and Mo asked, “What? You didn’t think I know a good toast?”

  Tomas replied, “Um, no Maurice, it’s just a surprise.”

  The old man got everyone’s attention again, “Willie apparently had a wife and son. He wants his money to go to the wife in trust, so we will make that happen. All of the guns have been cleaned, repacked and are ready to go, along with the radios and other gear. If you want to keep your BDUs you can, but all the vests and plates need to go into the packing case in the hall.”

  Turning to Bob and Duck, he continued, “Bob will ride herd on the equipment until it gets on the boat tonight, and he and Duck will ride the boat back to the states. There is room for six more if anybody wants to go to back that way. It’ll be about a three day trip.”

  Mo chimed in, “Hey man, you sure it ain’t a three hour trip?”

  Bob smiled, “Come on Mo, I’ll make it a three hour one way trip just for you!”

  Everybody laughed at the byplay, and the old man rapped his glass again. “Tomas will be playing taxi driver for the rest of the day, if anyone wants to catch flights out. We’re out of here in an hour. Your money has been deposited in the accounts you specified, and I want to thank each and every one of you for your professionalism and cooperation. We took some bad people out, and very probably saved quite a few American LEO and military lives by getting rid of those MANPADS.”