by JL Curtis
***
Kevin, Joe and George walked slowly down the beach until they found a good loud bar. Sitting at one of the outside tables, they ordered beers and sat facing the water so they could watch the women. Kevin said, “I found a rental house that’s empty. It’s a two story, so I think I’ll have a good sight line. From the roof. It’s a block over.”
Joe glanced at the blonde prancing by in the bikini and replied, “Looks like security is pretty tight until about midnight when the Forum Plaza closes. From what I can tell, the cleaners go through the third floor about nine. Montoya has three bodyguards at all times. He comes in between seven and eight and is usually there for at least seven hours. No chance of a hit on the house or on the vehicle to and from.”
George continued playing with his phone as he contributed, “No real comms or extra security. The hall door to the third floor isn’t locked until midnight. Montoya’s office is the center one and it looks like the only difference is a steel door and frame. I didn’t detect any electronics that would indicate a separate alarm system and the door lock is a Hager thirty-eight fifty. I’ll have a master cut by this afternoon. I told Chet and Mike to take the boat out and catch some fish today. They’ll be back at the T-pier by sundown. The guards are used to seeing the boat go in and out at odd hours now. We’ll go back aboard and gear up after dinner.”
Kevin and Joe nodded agreement. Kevin decided to get a closer look at the Forum Plaza shopping area. Tipping his beer, he finished it and dropped enough money on the table to pay for the round. Playing tourist, Kevin got some pictures of the area, and headed back to the hotel room that had been rented for him. He laughed to himself. Somebody had put some thought into this plan. They were all in different hotels, had been told not to discuss where they were, and they were going to go out by boat, much like he’d come in. I just hope they took care of my rifle on the trip down.
***
A few minutes after 9:00PM, Kevin left the boat, carrying what appeared to be tennis racquets in a double racquet case. He waved a can of tennis balls at the guards and said, “Gotta go get some exercise.” The guards nodded back and waved him through.
Joe left a few minutes later, a messenger bag over his shoulder and weaving as if he’d had too much to drink. He slurred a greeting to the guards and stumbled down the pier, much to their amusement.
Kevin looked casually around as he strolled up Calle 6 Norte and turned toward Café Ohana. People were out, but not in force yet. He walked by the café and was relieved to see it almost empty. Sliding close to the wall, he quickly slipped on the nitrile gloves and sprang the lock on the house next door. Slipping in, he stopped and put his monocular on and turned the portable radio on after he put the headset over the monocular straps. He proceeded slowly up the steps to the roof and duck walked to the edge of the roof. Sitting behind the parapet, he assembled his rifle, attached the scope and suppressor and set it to the side. He lased the windows of the Plaza and noted the range, checking his watch he double clicked his mic, and got a double click in return. He spoke softly into the mic, “Range four eight zero feet.”
Joe responded, “Wait.”
Kevin leaned back and sighed, sometimes overwatch was just a PITA. It sounded like this was going to be another one of those. Moving back a couple of feet, he gently sat the rifle on top of the air-conditioner unit and got into position. He cranked two clicks of elevation for the range and looked at the tops of the trees across the street. Seeing almost no movement, he decided not to put in any windage corrections.
Settling himself behind the rifle, he moved until the monocular was positioned behind the scope. As he did so he heard Joe say, “In.” He double-clicked his mic and started breathing in rhythm. Joe said, “Illuminating.”
Kevin looked closely and finally saw the pinpoint he believed was the IR illuminator. He keyed his mic. “Move vertical.” The pinpoint obligingly moved up and down and Kevin keyed up again. “Got it.” Kevin locked into position and waited.
After a minute he was beginning to wonder what was going on when he heard Joe say, “Clear.” Then he heard, “Hallway clear. Shoot.”
Kevin took one more breath let half of it out as he pressed the trigger, sending one round at the window. He called, “Shot. Out.” He didn’t even bother to look at the hit, but began immediately disassembling the rifle and replacing it in the tennis racquet case. He quickly shut off the radio and stripped off the headset, stowing it in the case, too. He carefully retraced his steps through the house and removed the monocular as he peered carefully out the front door. Not seeing anyone, he stepped out and pulled the door shut behind him. Stripping off the gloves, he shoved them in his track suit pocket and strolled casually back toward the T-pier.
Kevin was back aboard the boat and had already cleaned and stowed his rifle before Joe staggered back aboard. George strolled casually down to the guards and told them they were going to move the boat down to the small boat harbor, saying they were getting banged against the pier more than he liked. The guards nodded and wished him well. George came back aboard and Chet and Mike untied the boat and started motoring south. Once they were out of sight of the T-pier, they turned out to sea.
Joe had changed into shorts and a T-shirt and flopped down in the dinette with George and Kevin. He kept smiling and George finally said, “Okay, what the hell did you do?”
***
Montoya stalked down the hallway to his office, already in a foul mood. He hadn’t been sleeping well and he wasn’t looking forward to another day of fighting with the Columbians over a missing shipment of cocaine. Raul opened the office door for Montoya and stopped dead, causing Montoya to run into him. Cursing, Montoya pushed him into the office and saw what had made Raul stop. A cartoonish skull had been drawn on the wall of his office. Montoya started to cuss Raul but stopped when he saw a knife sticking in the middle of his desk.
He flipped on the lights and hesitantly stepped closer. It was a knife, stuck through a picture. He’d seen that knife before, but it took a minute for him to place it. Roberto. That looked like the knife Roberto had carried. And the picture was a dead man. Peering closer, he saw that it was Roberto. He heard Raul mutter, “Dios mío,” and reach for his gun as he looked frantically around.
Montoya turned to see what was going on and Raul pointed to his swivel chair. There was a hole through the center of it, right at chest height. Raul stepped over to the curtains and Montoya heard glass crunch underfoot. Montoya looked down at the chair and saw a folded piece of paper sitting there. With trembling hands, he picked it up and slowly opened it.
In Spanish it said:
You have missed again. If you send anyone else after anyone north of the border again, you will die. This is your only warning. We will kill you, your family and your family’s family.
s/
Montoya shivered as he read it, knowing how close he’d come to death. The threat to his family made the decision for him. His daughters didn’t know what he really did and didn’t deserve to die because of him. The cartel didn’t need to keep going after that one old sheriff, he’ll be gone soon enough and there wasn’t any real proof anyway, Montoya decided.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
JL Curtis was born in Louisiana in 1951 and was raised in the Ark-La-Tex area. He began his education with guns at age eight with a SAA and a Grandfather that had carried one for ‘work’. He began competitive shooting in the 1970s, an interest he still pursues time permitting. He is a retired Naval Flight Officer, having spent 22 years serving his country, an NRA instructor, and currently works as an engineer in the defense industry. He lives in Northern Virginia, this is his third novel in The Grey Man series.
Other authors you might like are on the facing page-
I highly recommend them all!
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http://www.amazon.com/L.B.-Johnson/e/B00M8ME9NC/ref
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[1] MARine PATtern camouflage
[2] Joint Terminal Attack Controller
[3] Mental Health, Mental Retardation
[4] Afghan National Army
[5] Afghan National Police
[6] Forward Operating Bases
[7] Area of Operations
[8] Ground Mobility Vehicle
[9] Secure Compartmented Information Facility
[10] Tactical Operations Center
[11] Geographic Reference Grid
[12] MEDical Community Assistance Program
[13] HUMan INTelligence
[14] Deputy Patrol Agent In Charge
[15] Other Than Mexican
[16] Improvised Explosive Device
[17] Traumatic Brain Injury
[18] Country Of Origin
[19] La Familia Michoacana
[20] Personally Identifiable Information
[21] Police Officer Standards and Training
[22] Quick Reaction Force
[23] Gun Shot Wound
[24] After Action Report
[25] Remain Behind Element
[26] Blood Alcohol Check
[27] Regional Informational Sharing System
[28] Law Enforcement Analysis Portal
[29] Line of Duty
[30] TransEsophageal Echocardiogram
[31] Independent Duty Corpsman
[32] Basic Underwater Demolition School
[33] Incident Report