by Carmen Faye
“Copy.”
Cyn looked to James, who nodded and reaches for his combat knife, secured in the same position as her own. She came up slowly on one knee, and then pulled out her combat knife and attacked the one farthest away, leaving the other to James.
Cyn grabbed the man across his mouth, pulled his head back, and buried her blade into the lower spine area the Recons call the sweet spot. The man was dead before she let go of him. James chose to go up into the back of the skull, with the same effect.
“Get their rifles and ammo,” James told her.
The rifles were M16s with night scopes and M320 40mm grenade launchers attached in front of the magazines. James gave her a quick lesson on how to use the rifle and the launcher. Each man had a bandoleer belt of ten grenades, plus three magazines for the rifle. They took the radio as well as their watches and wallets. James explained that groups like this sync their watches with each other, so having theirs might be useful. Cyn nodded and did as she was told. Her body was thrumming with adrenaline.
As James led her back across the mesa, he radioed down to their own people, “We have company of the bandit kind. Probably vigilante home guards. Force size unknown yet, but plan B advised.”
“Copy on plan B. Where are the hostiles?”
“Top of the wash we came down from, I believe. Cyn and I are on our way to scout and neutralize now.”
“Advise us prior to action,” Knight told them through their earpiece radios.
“Copy,” James said.
“Copy,” Cyn agreed.
They moved quickly but didn’t run, as they weren’t using flashlights now.
They came to the edge of the wash, and there on the slope below them were five dune buggies with two men each. James flipped up the cap on his scope and searched the area. Cyn followed suit. It took a bit to get used to the night vision, but she was able to count out ten men. She looked farther up the wash and saw another dune buggy that was empty. She pointed this out to James, who nodded and then motions back to the two they had taken out. Cyn nodded in agreement.
They backed up from the edge and James gave the report to Knight. “Heavy arms, rifles, grenade launchers. We don’t want to go toe to toe with them. We’ll lose a vehicle for sure, at the very least.”
“Agreed. We’ll take the other wash out of here, the one Hank has marked as being a mile ahead. Where do we pick you up?” Knight asked.
James looked over at the empty dune buggy. “We got a ride. Meet you at the first rest stop.”
“Copy. Good hunting.”
“Copy, and thanks.”
“Thanks,” added Cyn.
The first thing they did was check that buggy had the keys in the ignition. Seeing them there, they hurried back to position. Cyn showed James her five flashbangs and he smiled. “You start first, from front to back. I’ll follow, going for the buggies with the launcher, then we’re out of here.”
“Got it. Don’t look at these things. They’ll blind the shit out of you,” she warned.
“I know it, trust me. I’ve witnessed the effects firsthand. Ready?” James asked.
She nodded and got the first flashbang read to fly.
“Go.”
She could hear the plane engine revving up as she threw her first grenade, picked up the second and tossed it to follow, then hit the dirt, covering her ears. The concussions, even out there in the open, were monstrous. She wasted no time grabbing her third and fourth and letting them sail. James launched a 40mm into the first buggy and reloaded in time to hit the dirt with her again. Rocking explosions filled the night with yells of panic and surprise along with cries of pain.
She threw her fifth flashbang into the center of the group and then picked up her rifle. She set like James had taught her and launched the loaded grenade at a buggy. She didn’t see if it hit its mark, because she hurriedly dropped to the ground again to avoid the flashbang detonation. She reloaded as James fired a grenade and dropped down. As he comes down, she rose up on her knee and fired hers. She had no idea how to aim the thing. She just pointed, fired, and dropped to reload.
James fired again, then tapped her on the shoulder. He pulled out his flashlight and started to run. She looked over the edge and saw nothing but flames and confused men. She followed quickly, pulling out her own flashlight and running hard across the mesa.
The plane took off. She saw it rising into the air. What the hell was Plan B?
James reached the buggy long before she did. He started the engine and spun the buggy around with a power slide. Cyn put her rifle behind the seat and jumped over and into the passenger side as James floored the gas. He rocketed them out of the mesa and onto the dirt road, leaving a hail of rock and dust behind them.
“Knight! We’ve left the area,” James said into his radio. “Hostiles are hit and subdued. Probably mad as fuck, too. Over.”
“Copy. We’ve left the area as well. Nearly to the wash. Lead car is already up and out of the flats. Over.”
“Meet you at the rest stop. Out.”
“Copy. Out.”
“What’s Plan B?” Cyn yelled over the din of the motor.
“Halo flies the plane under radar to the road in front of the club and lands, then pulls the plane around to the back. We unload there,” James told her.
“Ah, why wasn’t that Plan A?” she asked.
“Because it’s risky as fuck. If Halo is spotted on anyone’s radar, or reported by some concerned citizen, he’s screwed, with a payload of 300 kilos. Even Larry isn’t that good. He’ll do a lot of time.”
After a few miles, James said, “Look around and see if you can find some night vision goggles or something.”
She looked around at her feet and behind the seats — which was when she spotted the headlights behind them. They were way behind them but moving fast. James picked up speed, and she looked more furiously for the night vision goggles. She found a set of goggles and showed them to James, who nodded and took them from her.
“Lucky us!” he yelled with a smile.
She nodded, gave a nervous smile in return, and picked up her rifle. She checked the grenade launcher, making sure the cartridge was loaded and ready, then checked her magazine. As soon as she was done, James put the goggles on and killed his lights, going dark.
“We can’t lead them to the rest area!” James yelled. “We’ll never get rid of them if we do. Either we lose them, or you take them out.”
“Got it!” she agreed.
They only went another quarter mile before a helicopter flew low over them, heading toward the pursuing buggies whose lights were easily seen. Cyn turned around on her knees to watch what happened, and she was stunned at what occured.
“I think they are firing on that helicopter!” she yelled at James.
“What? Are you sure?”
“Yes. I can see the muzzle flashes. And someone launched a grenade!”
“Fucking son of a bitch!” James yelled. He slowed down, then turned off the road into something that could barely be called a trail, and parked them well into the brush.
“What’s up?”
“That’s the DEA or Border Patrol they are firing on. They are in buggies like we are. This whole place is going to be swarming with everyone who has a badge within fifty miles in a few minutes. We’ll never get out of here now. We’ll have to wait them out.”
“Shit. I hadn’t thought of that, but you are right,” she said, and she turned around to flop back in her seat. “Fucking militant assholes.”
James took out his cellphone. He had a signal, so he called Knight and told him the situation.
“I think you should head on back,” James told him. “This could take awhile to clear up.”
“I’ll send the others ahead, but Boston and I will wait here for you. Halo has already called and let us know he made his landing and is safely behind the building. They can unload him and get that side of things cleared up.”
“Copy that. We’ll try to find a way past
them in about two hours. The hornets should be settled down by then.”
“Good. Keep in touch,” Knight told them, and he broke the connection.
“Just so you know, God,” Cyn said bitterly to the stars, “when I fantasized about spending the night with him, this is not what I meant.”
James laughed so loudly she was sure the world was going to hear him.
She gave him a grin and wondered if Hank was safe yet.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Down the side!” Hank ordered Orlin, and he pushed him ahead, following him closely. “To those rocks! See them! Move!”
Gunfire ripped across the mesa, and explosions tore apart the night. Men were screaming and dying all across the mesa. Claymore mines fired their ball bearings through the air, which ripped through flesh and limbs.
Orlin hurried as fast as he could in the ambient light of the spots from the north and south walls, which had lit up the landing field to daylight levels.
“DEA?” Orlin asked as he ran.
“Can’t be,” Hank shouted back over the gunfire and explosions. “They would’ve waited for the plane to land. What are they going to bust you for? Illegal camping?”
Orlin agreed. “Not bandits, either, for the same reason!”
They reached the rocks and looked at each other. “Rivera,” they said at the same time.
“Fuck me,” Hank said, and he slouched back against the rocks.
“I was sure he would have gotten the message. Maybe he doesn’t know I’m here.”
“Maybe he doesn’t care!” Hank said.
“How could he not care?”
“Did you hide her, or is she in your bedroom?” Hank asked.
“Well…”
“He got her already, then. He has her, and now he’s after you and everyone else,” Hank told him. “We need to get to that wall over there, the cliff. See? It’s in darkness. We can follow it up and out of here. Long fucking walk, but it’s better than being in that kill zone.”
Orlin looked to the wall and then up at his men being gunned down. “Si, alright!”
“Ready? Go!” Hank said, and he started to run, pulling Orlin with him.
They ran, and Hank had never been so scared in his life. His back itched with the feeling of eyes on him and bullets coming fast.
They made it to the shadows. Orlin was bent over, breathing hard.
“Do you need a gun?” Hank asked.
“Si, I didn’t bring one,” Orlin panted to him.
Hank kicked him hard in the ass and sent him sprawling into the dirt. He put his knee to Orlin’s back and handcuffed him quickly.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Orlin shouted, struggling against the cuffs and Hank’s weight.
“Giving you to Rivera,” Hank told him calmly.
Rivera said from behind him, “Thank you, Hank. He sent word that he has my granddaughter, though.”
“I’ll have her before sunrise,” Hank told him, and he got up from Orlin.
“Hank? Why?” Orlin screamed.
“Do you remember Howey and Margaret? You probably don’t. Just two more people that you had raped and killed.”
“Howey? Margaret?” Orlin asked in wonder.
“He didn’t remember my granddaughter, either,” Rivera mused. “A man in his position should have a better memory. The Hummer you requested is right back there. Keys are inside. I’ll take this from here.”
“I’ll call you as soon as I have her,” Hank told him, and he started at a jog for the waiting Hummer.
“Hank! Hank! Don’t do this!” Orlin shouted at him.
“Howey and Margret probably screamed the same thing,” he said to the darkness.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The black Hummer was nearly an exact copy of the ones they had taken out to the airstrip earlier, all the way down to the molded chain license plate frame. As expected, none of the guards gave Hank a second glance as he drove it up the drive of Orlin’s hacienda and parked it right in front of the main doors. The place was manned by a skeleton crew anyway, since all of the staff and most of the guards had been moved to the La Jolla house. Juan, Orlin’s son, was with Maria, the boy’s nanny. Just to be safe, however, Hank pulled out his Glock and chambered a round, holding it down to his side as he walked down the familiar hall to his own room.
In his room, he grabbed his overnight canvas gym bag and stuffed it with the watches, jewelry, and cash he had in the drawers, leaving the clothing. He also put his laptop into the bag. Then he left the room and made his way to the master bedroom.
As he came around the bend in the hallway, he came face to face with Agent Fowles, DEA, who had in his hands two large, nylon duffel bags, which appeared to be full. He was about fifteen feet away. Fowles dropped the bags and went for his gun. Hank had no option. He lifted his arm and shot Fowles three times in the chest.
Walking over to the dying agent, he said, “You’re an idiot. I would have let you pass if you hadn’t drawn on me.”
The agent only had a moment to look confused before he died.
Hank hurried on to the master bedroom and found a dead guard at the door. Guessing that this was Fowles’s doing, he knocked on the door and then opened it slowly. “Sibel?”
The girl came out of the bathroom area cautiously. “Si, I am Sibel.”
In Spanish, Hank told her, “Your grandfather sent me. We will be leaving shortly. Grab what you wish to bring.” Then he went to Orlin’s dressing desk and pulled out the jewelry, watches, and anything else of value, along with his late wife’s jewelry. It might be awhile before money would be available from the sales, if they were able to get the cargo at all.
“I am ready,” the girl said after Hank was finished raiding the bedroom.
“Good. Carry this, and let’s go,” he told her, handing her the canvas bag.
Hank’s next stop was in the safe room next door. He found only two banded stacks of one hundred-dollar bills lying on the floor. The safe had been emptied. He pocketed the stacks. They moved quickly back down the hallway, and he stopped in the office area. He looked at the desk. On the desk was a completely filled out marriage license stating that Sibel was married to Orlin.
“Did you sign this?” Orlin asked.
“No, I do not wish to be married to him,” she told Hank.
“Hmmm, maybe you do, now,” he said with a smile.
“Why?”
“Well, because he has unfortunately passed away, and so, this house will become yours,” he told her.
“Si?”
“That is, if you wish to have this home. Perhaps you could give it to your grandfather if you have bad memories of this place,” Hank suggested.
She looked at him, and then said, “Perhaps I wish to be married to him after all.”
Hank took the license and searched the desk for anything else of interest. Finding only another laptop, he left that and hurried with her back into the hall, gun at his side, but ready.
When they reached Fowles, Hank picked up the bags and checked them. Seeing they were filled with the money from the safe, he carried them both in his left hand.
At the main door, he told Sibel to wait until he had loaded the bags in the car. “There will probably be shooting, but don’t be scared. Just run and jump into the back when I come back for you.”
“Si,” she said.
“Good,” he said, and gave her a smile.
He loaded the bags, tossing them across the back seat to the other side of the Hummer without incident. It was only when he came back out with the girl, running to jump into the back seat and close the door, that he heard, “Alto! Stop!” from the rooftops.
Hank ignored them and jumped into the driver’s seat. He fired up the engine, slammed the big personnel carrier into reverse, and powered it back out of the drive, heading for the street. Shots hit the hood, and he cursed as he saw the gate was closing. Slamming his foot to the floor, he crashed through the partially open gate with a screech of twisting metal.
He pulled out into the street, where he put the Hummer into drive and left the area as fast as he could.
“Are you alright?” he asked after he had made two turns and was out of the area.
“Si, I am not hurt,” she told him.
“Want to sit up here in front?”