Russo stood in front of the Italian, talking quickly and angrily. Getting a shaky response from the man, Russo said to Grant, “He said he’s being truthful.”
Just then Grant heard the sound of a chopper. “Perfect timing, my friend,” he said under his breath, looking up and seeing red blinking lights.
He jerked the man’s head back and pointed overhead with the knife. “Okay, Vince, now tell him this: If I don’t think he’s telling the truth, I’m calling in my friend in that chopper and we’ll go for a little ride. Only it’s just going to be one way for him. I don’t think he’ll like what I’ve got in mind.”
Russo rattled off Grant’s words. The Italian grabbed hold of Grant’s leg, pleading for his life.
“Well?” Grant asked.
“Says he swears on the Virgin Mother and his mother and his grandmother that he’s taking us to the right place.”
“Where does Falcone live?” Russo looked at Grant with surprise. “Ask him, Vince.”
The Italian’s voice trembled as he answered. Russo slung his rifle strap over his shoulder and said, “He lives in a villa above Palermo, and Falcone spends a lot of time down near the docks, running his operation from a warehouse on Via Cristoforo Colombo.”
“Last question. Who’s the group leader? What’s his name?” As the man responded, Grant caught the name “Castalani.” He immediately pulled the man up, handing him off to Russo. “Let’s go.”
“Get what you wanted, sir?” asked Moore, as he leaned over the side. Grant gave a thumb’s up.
Adler was leaning against the truck door. He pushed his hat back off his forehead with his thumb. “I take it the G2 went well.”
“The gentleman was more than willing to verify the information requested,” Grant responded as he walked around the front of the truck.
“Yeah, I’ll bet he was! You do have a powerful means of persuasion!”
They both got in the truck, with the doors slamming simultaneously, just as the radio sounded. Grant reached for it. “Stevens.”
“Doug here.”
“Any luck?”
“Affirmative. At this point, we only see two sets of headlights, heading west northwest, traveling about ten minutes apart. There were another two headed in the opposite direction.”
“They probably made their drop. Give me the coordinates.” Grant jotted them down then he picked up the map. “You flew over us less than ten minutes ago.”
“We thought those were your lights.”
“How far do you think we are from them?”
“Maybe five, six miles max.”
“Roger. We’re on our way. Tell Grigori to head back. Will contact him if needed. Out.”
“Guess our Italian friend was telling the truth,” Adler commented, as he pulled back onto the road.
“Looks that way.”
“I know there’s a ‘but’ in there somewhere,” Adler said. “You gonna tell me?”
“Don’t know what to do about the missing agent, Joe. I mean, we can’t just forget about him.”
“Skipper, you know we’ve got to find those canisters first.”
“Yeah, but if Falcone’s got him, how much time do you think he’s got? Or if he’s still alive.”
“You can’t be certain Falcone did anything to him, right?”
“I know, I know. But he was walking into a bitchin’ situation, having to confront Falcone with possible news about a rebel group working within his own organization. And he’s CIA, Joe. Don’t think Mafia man’s going to appreciate that.”
Adler kept his eyes on the curving road and the red taillights ahead of him as he said, “Yeah, but you’d think Falcone would want to know, so he could take care of the situation his own way.”
“We don’t know one damn thing about that guy Falcone, or how he thinks, or what he’s capable of.”
“Well, Skipper, like you said, he’s Mafia.”
Grant rested his head against the back window, rubbing a hand back and forth across his forehead. “How much farther do we have to go?”
“You’ve got the map.”
“Oh, yeah.” Grant picked up the map and turned on the penlight. “We’ve gotta be getting close. Dammit! Why the hell aren’t there any kind of landmarks on this road? Okay, according to Taylor’s coordinates, we should be right about here,” he pointed on the map.
Brake lights on the truck in front of them went on. “We’re slowing down, Skipper.”
“Feels like we’re crawling, Joe. We’ve gotta be real close to a turnoff. Flash those lights. Make Russo stop.”
Grant jumped out, jogging to Russo’s side of the truck. “Vince, how close to turning off?”
“We’re looking for something on the left side of the road. There’re some rocks in the shape of an upside down V, pointing to the route.”
“Follow me,” Grant said, drawing out his penlight. He walked down the left side of the road, with both trucks following slowly behind him. After about thirty feet he stopped, holding up his arm. He turned in the direction the rocks were pointing, shining the small light on flattened grass, and distinct tire tracks. He waved the trucks toward him.
Standing next to Russo, he said, “Looks like this is it. Do we know how far we need to go?”
Russo asked the driver. “About two kilometers.”
“Okay. You take over the driving while our friend gets in the back. Tell him, Vince.” Russo translated the order as Grant was pulling open the driver’s door. The Italian didn’t hesitate in jumping out. Grant grabbed the back of his jacket, practically lifting the man off the ground, as he said to Russo, “I’m putting Cranston up here with you with NVG’s. Stay in the lead, but be careful. Keep your eyes open. We’ll stay close.” Russo nodded. “Kill the headlights before turning in. Give me a minute with the team.”
Holding onto the Italian’s jacket, he walked to the back. “Take him, Ray.”
Moore took hold of the Italian and pulled him up, dropping him on the wooden floorboards. Lewis grabbed him and dragged him forward.
Moore asked, “Ready to get this finished, sir?”
“Roger that.” He shifted his eyes to Cranston. “Paul, I want you to take NVG’s and a scope and get up front with Vince. We’ll be traveling in the dark for the next couple of kilometers. Hand me those,” Grant said reaching for the NVGs. “We’re going to have to play this last part by ear, men. Don’t know who or how many may be waiting up there. Got your weapons handy?”
The team answered in unison, “Yes, sir!”
As Grant was getting into the cab, he looked over his shoulder, seeing the volcano still spewing fire. “Let’s move, Joe.”
Adler flashed his lights, then turned them off and both trucks started moving. Just then the radio sounded. “Stevens.”
“Doug here.”
“Speak.”
“They found the agent.”
Grant gave a sigh of relief. “Is he okay?” There was a pause. “Doug?”
“No. They found him in a car at the bottom of a cliff.”
Grant moved the radio away from his ear. “Oh, Christ.”
Adler shot him a glance, not liking Grant’s response.
“Any evidence of foul play?”
“No one’s saying. They think he was on his way to Palermo airport, heading back to Naples.”
“Who notified you?”
“Admiral Torrinson called AFN.”
“Okay. Listen, contact Jack Edwards in Naples. Send him our condolences. Tell him we’ll help if we can.”
“Roger.”
Grant disconnected before turning to Adler. “Agent Fierra was found. . .dead.”
“Oh, shit.” After a moment of silence, Adler asked, “What happened? Anything suspicious?”
Grant was shaking his head. “His car was found at the bottom of a cliff.”
All Adler could say was, “Poor bastard.”
They sat in silence briefly before Adler spoke. “Whadda we do now?” He turned his head, seeing t
he look he was all too familiar with. The tightening of the square jaw, the mashing down on the teeth.
“Now? We finish shit, Joe. This is where we finish!”
Chapter 14
Grotta Mazzamuto
The higher they traveled into the nature reserve, the cooler the air became. A slight western breeze carried on it the pungent smell of wild mushrooms, and a strong scent of pine.
The path the two trucks were following was treacherous, but they weren’t doing anything different from the caravan that passed through here ahead of them. They just had to take it slow.
As they approached a slight bend in the path, the iridescent eyes of a red fox glared at them, as the animal tried to stay hidden in the tall grass, with a small rodent hanging from its mouth. The truck’s tires ran over a small branch, cracking it in half, causing the fox to scurry across the road.
Cranston and Grant were hardly distracted, and using the NVGs, kept focusing on the beaten path, trying to avoid any hazards. The rest of the team strained their eyes, trying to look through the darkness, seeing only dark forms of trees and hills.
The brake lights on Russo’s truck lit up. Adler was just starting to slow down, when Grant was already out the door. He ran to Russo. “What?”
“According to the mileage, what we’re looking for is about a hundred yards ahead, to the right.”
“And that would be?”
“The Italian,” Russo said pointing over his shoulder, “said it’s called Conza cave.”
Adler put the truck in neutral and pulled the hand brake. He jumped out, then mustered alongside Grant. “What’s goin’ on?”
“Give me a minute, guys.” Grant turned away, trying to think out his next course of action. Walking back and forth next to the truck, he finally stopped and said, “Think we’ll use the ‘herd the cattle out of the pen’ maneuver. Craig, it’ll be up to you to determine about how many Italians are in the cave, then report back. Get the shotgun mike; make it quick.” Simpson dragged the rucksack close, pulled out the mike, then took off.
“When Craig gets back, Ray and I’ll go position ourselves outside the cave. Give us ten minutes. Vince, then you start driving--slowly--on my signal. Copy?”
“Copy that. Lights on?”
“Affirmative. And if the rest of the trail is anything like what we just drove over, it’s gonna be a bitch, so be careful. I want to get all or most of those bastards outside the cave. Do what you’ve been doing. They talk, you answer. You’ve gotta make them believe you’re in charge of the ‘prisoners’ but you need help escorting them into the cave. Got it?” Russo nodded.
Adler looked at Grant questioningly. “Can I see you for a minute over there?” Grant followed him to the other side of the truck, then Adler said, “Let me get this straight. You wantme to stay with the truck?”
“You heard me right. I need you to man the radio in case it turns to shit up there. It’ll be up to you to contact Grigori.”
“But, Skipper. . .”
“Joe, listen to me. Officially, you’re not part of the team on this one. You understand?”
Under his breath Adler mumbled, “Doesn’t sound like an official order to me.”
Grant knew it was hopeless and just turned to Moore. “Ray, give me one of those.” Grant took off his jacket, attached the small battery to his waistband, adjusted the dangling antenna, then ran the wire up a sleeve before inserting the earpiece in his right ear. He nodded to Moore who spoke quietly into his throat mike, testing the equipment. Putting his jacket back on Grant confirmed, “Okay, Ray. You got the C4?” He had to be prepared, but the explosive would be a last resort, and only after the canisters were safely stowed. . .unless they had to seal off the cave, canisters and all.
“C4, det cord, pencils,” Moore responded, holding up a rucksack.
C4’s color and substance resembles white modeling clay. Det cord, burning at twenty-five thousand feet a second, can be used to connect multiple blocks of C4. The explosive could be formed to almost any shape, then exploded with something like a blasting cap or chemical pencil. The three inch chemical pencil contains a one inch ampoule of acetone, that when crimped allows the acetone to eat away a plastic washer holding back a striker under spring tension. When the washer erodes, the spring drives the striker into the explosive detonator, setting off the device.
Grant took the M16 being held by Womack, put the extra rounds into his chest vest and double checked the clips for his .45.
“What do you want the men to do with him?” Moore asked as he pointed over his shoulder to the Italian.
Grant eyed the surrounding area. “Gag and hogtie him to that tree over there,” he said pointing beyond some thick brush. “Maybe we’ll pick him up on our way out.”
Adler stepped aside as Simpson and Womack pulled the Italian from the truck. “One last time. You sure you want me to stay here?” he asked Grant.
“You’re the only one who can inspect those canisters and determine what needs to be done.”
Adler nodded begrudgingly. “And you’ll contact me as soon as it’s clear, right?”
Grant punched him in the shoulder as he walked by, taking a few steps down the path, keeping an eye out for Simpson. He brought his arm close, trying to see his watch.
Adler motioned with his head. “Here he comes.”
Simpson didn’t wait for Grant to ask. “Tough, sir. That damn cave’s pretty deep, and the entrance is covered by trees and brush. But I’d say there’s at least five of ‘em in there. There was some kinda light behind the trees; may have been a guard.”
“Okay, Craig. That’ll have to be good enough.” He checked his rifle, then said, “Everybody knows what has to be done, and we’ve gotta get it done before daybreak. Come on, Ray.”
**
Grant and Moore, with their rifles locked and loaded, moved quickly down the left side of the road. They had gone about fifty yards when they noticed some kind of dim light up ahead, the glare being filtered through trees.
Grant put his hand out, motioning for Moore to slow down. “Gotta be the entrance. Let’s go.”
Moving farther off the path, taking cover behind some brush, they crouched down, continuing to move forward, keeping their eyes focused on the light that seemed to be moving, until they were directly opposite it. Finally, they were able to see a large, barrel-chested man pushing aside tree branches, holding a lighted lamp high overhead.
Grant and Moore stopped dead in their tracks as the man walked within thirty feet of their position. They could smell tobacco smoke as he took a deep, final drag, then flicked the butt close to where they were hiding. They figured he was watching for the trucks.
With one last look, the man turned, went back up the incline and disappeared behind the tree branches. The light slowly dimmed until there was only darkness.
Grant spoke softly. “He’s in the cave. We’ve gotta get closer.” He motioned for Moore to take the right side. They took off simultaneously, running to take their positions on either side of the cave entrance.
Grant rushed up to the edge of the cave, pressing himself against the rock, gradually squatting down and inching his way to get behind large, moss-covered rocks. Moore was taking his position opposite him, about twenty-five feet away. Grant turned his back from the cave entrance, pulled his penlight from his pocket, shining the tiny light on his watch. There were still a couple of minutes. He held up two fingers for Moore.
He scooted closer to the edge of his hiding place, then looked around the corner. A pungent dampness and cigarette smoke immediately hit his senses. The floor of the cave, from what he could see, was nothing but rocks, puddles of water, and some kind of brush. He tried focusing on what he could only assume was a curve to the left in the rock, then beyond that was probably the very back of the cave. A flickering, dim light reflected on the walls.
Grant eased himself backward, hearing occasional, muffled laughter echoing within the cave. Just as he was about to look at his watch, he heard
truck engines and saw headlights. Moore signaled a thumb’s up. Both of them crept farther back, seeing a light inside the cave getting brighter, knowing someone was heading toward them.
Grant brought his rifle in front of his body, with his index finger in position, ready to let all hell break loose if necessary.
Chapter 15
Conza Cave
Giovanni Bruno held a lamp as he walked in front of the munitions lined up against the cave wall. Leary of the steel containers grouped together, he stepped to the opposite side of the cave. Castalani hadn’t given specific information on what was hidden inside the containers, but Bruno had enough smarts to know it was something very dangerous.
He heard footsteps. Amara walked toward him, then put the lamp on the ground before lighting up another cigarette.
Bruno slapped the cigarette out of his hand, shouting, “Idiot!” He crushed the cigarette with the heel of his shoe, before asking, “Anything yet? Did you see or hear the trucks?”
“Nothing.”
Bruno started pacing, knowing the last trucks with the prisoners were overdue. Almost a bigger problem was he didn’t have a way to track them even if he wanted to. All the other vehicles had been driven to Palermo.
Castalani’s bodyguards, Gallo and Luca, leaned against a protruding rock formation with their Uzis slung over their shoulders, just watching Bruno. Within a minute, they all heard the sound of engines. What no one heard was Bruno’s sigh of relief.
As they reached the point in the cave where it curved around, he said to Amara, “You stay here; keep this section lighted. Piscaro, you come with us.”
Bruno held the lamp high overhead, as they all maneuvered around obstacles in their path, making their way through the cave, finally able to see headlights filtering through the tree line. One of the driver’s turned the truck so the lights were shining toward the cave.
Grant saw the glow from a lamp and heard footsteps drawing closer. He motioned with his hand for Moore to back up. Both of them stepped back, pressing themselves against the rock formation. He gave a brief smile inwardly, silently complimenting Russo on shining the headlights toward the oncoming Italians, making it more difficult for them to see into the truck. But daylight was approaching, with a mere hint of sunshine already on the distant horizon. Four men walked out of the cave. Grant remembered Simpson had said he heard at least five voices.
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