“The Fishers walked away from their laptop about ninety minutes ago. It was sitting in the manager’s office. They were using a Mac Pro, correct?”
“Affirmative,” said Nissie, taking a sip. “Is this made with nonfat milk?”
“It’s a caramel Frappuccino. Everyone got the same thing.”
“Thank you for trying,” she said, causing some laughter.
“This tastes like shit,” said Ross, the straw still in his mouth.
“You have no idea how you look right now,” said Riggs, staring at Ross until he lowered the drink. “Miss Keane. What are our options? Cameras?”
“The Starbucks security cameras would be a good start.”
“Can you do that from your computer?”
“Yes, but I’ll need the full system to access facial recognition networks. In case we discover someone helping them. Never know.”
“All right. You work on what you can with your magic laptop, and we’ll get set up in one of the hotels. The rest of your team should be here by five. We also need to rent one more vehicle, preferably a sedan. I haven’t seen too many luxury SUVs up here.”
“My team has hacked into most of the nearby hotel systems from the road. They obviously haven’t found a couple named Jon and Leah Fisher, but they’re combing for irregularities. I’ll have them start compiling and preparing security feed data. May as well run it all through the facial recognition networks. That’ll save us from sifting through hours of footage.”
“Sounds good,” said Riggs, turning to Tex. “You enjoying your Frappuccino?”
“Actually, it’s kind of growing on me,” he said, turning the drink toward him. “Want to try?”
“I ain’t sipping coffee through a straw. What the fuck is wrong with you?”
CHAPTER 8
Stuart Quinn kept the satphone pressed to his ear, leaning his head against the seat’s headrest. He’d been on hold for close to forty minutes, waiting for Major General Nichols to get out of a staff meeting. Not that he was complaining. Nichols had already gone way beyond the call of duty on this, and he hated to bother him again—but David’s check-in was long overdue. He’d run every possibility through Blake, as a sanity check, and neither of them could come up with a serious scenario that didn’t involve Cerberus.
“Colonel Quinn, they just broke camp. I’m gonna hand this phone to the general when he walks by. He said he’d take your call, but things are pretty tense around here, so I can’t guarantee anything.”
“Major, I appreciate you sticking your neck out like this.”
“Don’t mention it. We’ve been eyeballing your son for a division billet for some time now. Just looking for a way to steal him away from Lieutenant Colonel Smith. Hope everything’s all right.”
“I’m sure it is. Thank you again.”
“Here he comes.”
A few seconds of silence passed before the general spoke.
“Stu. I’m running to another meeting. San Diego County PD has intensified their blockade around the base.”
“Sorry to jump you like this, Larry. I haven’t heard from David.”
“I should have reached out to you earlier,” said Nichols. Stuart’s stomach clenched as the major general continued. “I assumed he got in touch.”
“Not since before the convoy left,” said Stuart, afraid to ask what had happened.
“Here’s what I know. All four vehicles were hit simultaneously by Javelin missiles, about twenty-five miles east of El Centro.”
“Jesus. Javelins?”
“David survived, along with the Fishers. The details are sketchy, but I don’t think David’s wife made it.”
“Shit.”
Blake muttered an obscenity, pounding the steering wheel.
Stuart turned his head and whispered, “David’s fine.”
“The platoon supporting the convoy lost more than half its Marines.”
“I’m sorry, Larry. Jesus, I’m really sorry,” said Stuart, the general’s words sinking in. “What do you mean the details are sketchy? Is David in Yuma?”
“No. Apparently, a group of mystery soldiers arrived by dune buggy and—get this—parachute, turning the tide. The platoon sergeant in charge of the convoy said this group saved their asses.”
“Parachutes? No idea who they were?”
“None, but David and the rest left with them voluntarily—last seen headed south.”
“With Alison?”
“All we know is that she was hit at some point during the ambush. Witnesses say she went down hard, but we can’t confirm. David took her body when he left with this mystery group,” said the general. “Some of the Marines reported hearing fluent Spanish, so I’d say Mexico is a good guess.”
“This is unbelievable. All of it,” said Stuart. “Smith’s Marines aren’t talking?”
“We’re still sorting through their limited statements. They’re very protective of your son. He was well respected and admired throughout the battalion.”
“Right. Thank you,” he said, understanding how the Marines would be hesitant to share information that might get David into trouble. “Did your Marines take any Cerberus operatives alive?”
“The recovery and removal operation was handled by Marine Corps Air Station Yuma. They’re processing the scene for now. I’m told they have taken a few unknowns into custody, along with a dozen or so unidentified bodies. We’ll be taking a hard look at these folks. You can rest assured of that.”
“This radically changes things,” said Stuart, his mind swirling with scattered thoughts. “Thank you, Larry. I’m racking up one hell of a debt here. I don’t know what to say about your Marines other than I’m sorry.”
“It’s an inevitable part of war, and make no mistake, Stu—we are at war with whoever did this,” he said. “I’m accelerating First Marine Division’s deployment to Yuma and points east of the Colorado. Lieutenant Colonel Smith’s battalion will be the tip of this spear. I anticipate armed reconnaissance missions ranging into western Arizona by late tomorrow night.”
“Sand Devil? I thought we were a still a few months from pulling the trigger on that.”
“Someone pulled the trigger on First Marine Division, so I’m bumping up the timeline.”
“This wasn’t the Sinaloa cartel,” said Stuart.
“Nothing goes down near the border without the cartel’s knowledge. Smith’s Marines are going to make some noise out there. See what he can scare up. You never know how things are connected. When you get in touch with David, let him know he has friends in western Arizona. Keep me posted. Sorry to cut you off, Stu, but I have to run.”
“Copy that, General. I’ll make him aware of the battalion’s presence. That’s good news.”
“Semper Fi, brother. Good luck with whatever crazy-ass plan you have brewing.”
“You know me too well,” said Stuart. “Semper Fi.”
He lowered the phone and turned to Blake, who shook his head solemnly. Stuart felt helpless, sitting in a car more than a thousand hostile miles away. He knew about loss and the slippery slope it left behind. Stuart’s wife, Liz, had been taken from him prematurely but not unexpectedly. Her cancer had moved fast, but they’d made their peace with it by the time she passed. A reluctant, tenuous peace on his part, but the acceptance they had built together kept him from sliding off the deep end during the dark months that followed. Alison’s sudden death would take a catastrophic toll on David, smothering him in darkness. He needed to get in touch with his son as soon as possible.
They drove for few more minutes, Blake giving him some mental space to let everything sink in. Stuart could use more time, but that was the one thing they couldn’t afford to waste.
“Mexico?” said Blake.
“Sounds like it,” said Stuart. “I’m not sure where that leaves us.”
“Leaves us with a road trip to Meh-hi-co.”
“Did you understand what I meant about making David aware of the battalion’s presence?”
“More guessing than understanding.”
“Major General Nichols is sending David’s battalion into Arizona, and he implied they could be counted on to help.”
“That could come in handy, considering there’s only three of us. I assume this deployment is part of a legitimate military operation. Sand Devil?”
“Constitutional scholars might shy away from the word legitimate, but yes, Sand Devil has been in the planning phase for over a year. Long overdue, if you ask me,” he said, stopping to stare at the flat expanses of land beyond the SUV’s windows.
“You gonna tell me about Sand Devil, or is that classified?” said Blake, taking a hand off the wheel to make an air quote.
“Hold on,” said Stuart, picking up the phone.
A few seconds later he had connected with Jon Fisher, verifying his identity with their code.
“The boys are safe,” Stuart said. “So are your daughter-in-law and grandson.”
“Thank God,” said Jon, continuing after a noticeable pause. “What about Alison?”
“Doesn’t sound like she made it. According to Major General Nichols, details are a little sketchy. David’s platoon is tight-lipped about what happened. They lost a lot of Marines out there.”
“Son of a bitch,” said Jon. “I’m really sorry to hear about Alison.”
“Me, too. This is going to crush David.”
“I don’t doubt it. All the more reason to get our asses down there. Please tell me the Marines are getting involved. This is getting out of control.”
“Nichols is moving part of First Marine Division into Arizona, ahead of Operation Sand Devil.”
“Sand Devil? Never heard of it.”
“Few have. The name and full scope of Sand Devil haven’t trickled any lower than division-level commanders, though nearly every major military unit based in the continental United States has prepared for it under one guise or another. The White House has directed our military to eject the drug cartels from the United States soil. Several US-based combat divisions will participate in the invasion. First Marine Division will spearhead the western front.”
“Wow,” added Jon. “Sounds like our boys should sit tight in Yuma.”
“They’re not in Yuma.” He explained the uncertain report passed by Nichols.
“Why isn’t David communicating with us?” said Jon.
“I don’t know. Maybe this mystery group is following the same set of security rules your friend Scott is observing. They sound serious enough.”
“Any idea who we’re dealing with?”
“I’d say a group with an interest in keeping Nathan alive. I can’t think of any other reason they would have intervened. Your son has been at the center of this from the start. If I had to guess, I’d say the group was tied to the California Liberation Movement, and they’ve been aware of him for a while.”
“Well, they haven’t exactly done a stellar job watching over him.”
“It’s all pretty baffling. Hopefully we’ll get some answers soon. David will reach out when he can.”
“We should direct them west, into First Marine Division’s protective umbrella.”
“I agree, though I’m not sure how effective that will be. Nichols plans on sending Lieutenant Colonel Smith’s battalion well ahead of the division, but it sounds like the battalion will be scattered. Mostly conducting armed recon. I think their best strategy is to head north and hide, veering west if practical.”
“This is all assuming they’re free to travel,” said Jon. “Sounds like someone went through a lot of trouble to snatch them out of the jaws of death.”
“I was thinking the same thing. All we can do is keep moving forward. I’ll let you know if anything changes.”
“Same here,” said Jon. “See you bright and early.”
Stuart nestled the phone into an empty drink holder, contemplating the hours of empty landscape that awaited them.
“When does any of this start to look different?” he asked.
“Billings, Montana,” replied Blake.
“How far away is that?”
“Twelve hours with food and gas breaks, but you’ll only have to stare at this mind-numbing shit for about half of that. The sun sets around nine in these parts.”
“Is there anything you don’t know?”
“I don’t know. Does that count?” said Blake.
“Have I told you you’re a knucklehead?”
“Surprisingly, you haven’t mentioned it today.” Blake tapped the wheel with his fingers. “It’s gonna be fine, Stu. I can feel it.”
“I know,” he said, unable to shake the sinking feeling that everything was far from fine.
PART II
CHAPTER 9
Nathan squeezed his eyes shut against the bright light probing his eyelids—as if keeping them closed could somehow prevent his disastrous reality from materializing. He knew the thought was irrational on every level, but there he lay, like a frightened child rejecting the existence of monsters by refusing to see.
The acrid smell of chemical smoke attached to Keira’s hair reminded him that denial wouldn’t make this nightmare go away. He rolled on his back and rubbed his dirty, unshaven face with both hands, trying to regain some memory of his surroundings. He didn’t have much to work with.
His family had been politely but firmly asked to place breathable hoods over their heads upon arriving at the unlit outskirts of a city he assumed to be Mexicali. Run-down buildings and businesses sprawled in every direction. Had to be Mexicali. It was the only Mexican border city of consequence between Tijuana and Nogales that had survived decades of drought and drug cartel violence.
They’d experienced a long, bumpy ride into the depths of the city, followed by an endless walk through a maze of subterranean passageways tight enough to scrape against both arms at once in several points.
Their rescuers had removed the hoods in front of the door leading to this room before stuffing them inside with a few gallon jugs of water. Jose, the group’s de facto leader, had told them to get some rest and promptly closed the door.
When Nathan tested the door a few moments later, he was surprised to find it unlocked. A weathered, middle-aged Latina woman dressed in military-style gear sat on a folding chair in the tight hallway outside the door. A tan battle rifle leaned against the earthen wall behind her, but she made no move to retrieve it when he appeared. She glanced at him and nodded with a neutral look. Farther down the dirt corridor, in the direction they had come, another sentry stood outside an open door, cradling a rifle.
He closed the door and helped Keira arrange the dusty mattresses they’d found stacked against one of the walls. They spent the next few minutes removing their boots, tactical gear, and body armor, piling it on the room’s one table. Nathan barely remembered pulling a pile of colorful serape blankets off a roughly hewn wooden table next to the door and pulling them over his family.
He’d obviously been too tired to turn off the LED bulb hanging from the wooden-beam ceiling above them. Now, in an effort to escape the light’s glare, he shifted toward the edge of the creaky bed.
“What time is it?” croaked his wife.
He lifted his wrist above his face. Shit. They’d been out for close to thirteen hours. In and out, really. It was hard to sleep soundly with a price on your head.
“Four forty-seven,” he said.
“Are you serious? We need to get out of here.”
“We don’t know where here is yet. Mexicali, I’m guessing. Though why Mexicali? Seems like an odd place for the California Liberation Movement to keep a safe house.”
“Is it possible we crossed back into California?”
“I don’t think so, but anything’s possible at this point.”
“It doesn’t matter. All I know is that this isn’t far enough away.”
She was right. The brazenness of the ambush against the Marine vehicles carrying their family to safety revealed the extent of Cerberus’s desperation to kill Natha
n. To kill all of them. He wasn’t sure anywhere in the world was far enough away, but they could certainly do better than a lawless, dilapidated city less than thirty miles from the ambush site. This was a far cry from the luxury yacht in the middle of the Sea of Cortez that Jose had originally intended.
“I’m sure Jose is working on it.”
“I don’t know if Jose’s boat trip is a good idea anymore,” said Keira, rolling over to face him. “He’s not the only one with money to wave around in Mexico. Cerberus has to know we’re down here. I think we should consider going back to our original plan.”
“Head north?”
“Why not? It might be the last thing Cerberus would expect.”
“Let me talk to David about it. He might have a better sense of what we’re up against.”
“All right,” she said.
Nathan knelt next to the mattress and put a hand on her shoulder. Her hair was a tangled, matted mess, her face caked in dust, but he didn’t care. He leaned over and kissed her dried lips, tasting the desert grime.
She held him close for a long moment. “I love you,” she whispered, letting go.
“I love you, too. I’m going to poke around and check on things.”
“Can you start by finding us a bathroom and something to eat?” said Keira.
“Of course.”
“And I could use some coffee.”
Nathan nodded at the gallon jugs of water next to the mattress. “I wouldn’t get your hopes up.”
“We had some coffee in our packs. What happened to those? Once they put hoods over our heads, I lost track of everything except Owen.”
“The backpacks made it into the SUVs. That’s about all I know. How’s he doing?”
“Nightmares,” she said. “He was burrowed into me all night. Kicking and twitching.”
He nodded, not finding the words to express his regret for inadvertently putting Owen through this disaster. Standing up and stretching his arms, he found the ceiling a lot lower than it had looked from the mattress. His head cleared the wooden beams by only a few inches. He was accustomed to the three or four feet of clearance in their house; even the bedroom hallway gave him plenty of space. Not that they’d ever see it again. Their house in California felt as far away as the house in Tucson. Everything behind him felt inaccessible. Wiped clean by Cerberus.
Rogue State (Fractured State Series Book 2) Page 5