He put on his boots and opened the door to the hallway, which was just as cramped. A different guard rose from the chair outside their room. The thick-bearded, pale-skinned man in his early twenties was dressed in khaki cargo pants, brown hiking boots, and a desert camouflage tactical vest over an olive-drab T-shirt. A worn, curved-rim ball cap and tricked-out assault rifle complemented the paramilitary look. Unfortunately, the gear did little to camouflage the fact that the guy underneath it all looked like he might be far more comfortable studying a laptop screen and sipping a latte at Starbucks than fighting an insurgency. Nathan leaned back into the room.
“You’re in good hands,” he said, winking at Keira.
When he stepped back into the hall, the young man extended a hand. “Jeff,” he said.
Nathan accepted his handshake, noticing their backpacks stacked against the wall next to the door.
“Nathan,” he said, letting go of Jeff’s hand.
“I know. Everybody knows.”
He regarded the man warily. Exactly what did everybody know about him? Enough to convince the Mexican army to loan the CLM a parachute assault force. Fuck. Keira was right. They needed to get as far away from here as possible—even if it meant spending every last dollar in his pocket on the next taxi available. If the town still had taxis. He picked up the two backpacks, sliding them onto his aching shoulders.
“Everything from the vehicles is here,” said the man.
“Except two rifles and three helmets.”
“That’s all they brought by this morning,” Jeff said apologetically.
“And where is here, exactly?”
Jeff looked uncomfortable with the question.
“Let me guess. Classified?”
“Sorry. My instructions are to send you that way”—he pointed to Nathan’s left—“once you’re up and about. I’m sure they’ll answer all of your questions.”
Nathan peered down the dark, dirt-walled hallway toward a closed door. A compact camera attached to one of the exposed wood ceiling beams pointed in their direction. Nathan waved at the camera before taking in the rest of the area. The opposite end of the passageway appeared to consist of a wall of hard-packed dirt. Their room was the only one in the corridor. He suddenly felt very claustrophobic.
“So,” said Nathan, “there a lot of dead ends down here?”
Jeff nodded. “The previous owners didn’t complete all their tunnels.”
He didn’t need to ask who might need to build an extensive network of tunnels underground in Mexicali. He knew the answer, and it was one more reason why they needed to get away from this place.
Nathan picked up their backpacks and slipped back into the room with them.
“What?” Keira said, rising onto one elbow.
He dropped the backpacks onto the dusty floor at the foot of the mattresses and knelt next to her. “I have our packs,” he whispered. “I think we should wear our boots and gear at all times while we’re down here. I’m pretty sure this is a former drug cartel hideout. We might have to leave very quickly.”
She sat up all the way. “Are you serious? We need to get the hell out of here, right now. I can’t believe he brought us here.”
“I know. I know,” he said, putting his hands up defensively. “But we can’t just walk up onto the streets. We don’t know the situation up there. Give me a little time to figure it out—and get David on board. We can’t leave without him.”
“I almost forgot about him. Jesus,” she said, shaking her head.
“I’ll try to find him first. See what he wants to do.”
“He won’t want to do much, but you have to convince him to leave with us immediately.”
“He’ll want to bury Alison,” said Nathan. “Or make some kind of arrangements to ship her body north.”
“I’m grateful for everything he’s done, and I can’t even wrap my head around Alison’s death—this place can’t be a secret. Not if the cartel used it at some point.”
“I can’t pressure him after what happened,” said Nathan. “I don’t think we’d get very far without him.”
“Then you need to be convincing. I’d like to be as far away as possible when Cerberus comes knocking. We’re completely trapped down here.”
“I agree,” he said, kissing her forehead.
CHAPTER 10
Jose Guerrero stared at the wide, flat-screen monitor on his desk, studying the flow of reports filed by his paid contacts throughout Mexicali. He knew their time here was limited after last night’s rescue. CLM’s relationship with the governing cartel was based on money, and despite the significant amount of cash spent on maintaining the relationship and paying lookouts, the One Nation Coalition had far deeper pockets. It wasn’t a matter of if the cartel gave them up; it was a matter of when. He just hoped the contract with CLM was lucrative enough to buy at least a little time before the cartel flipped on them.
He’d give the final evacuation order later this afternoon. By sunrise tomorrow, the CLM’s southern hub would go quiet for the first time in three years. Before that, he wanted Nathan Fisher and his resourceful friend, David, to get a solid feel for the scope and complexity of CLM’s efforts. They had to see the bigger picture, from ground zero. Had to see that the CLM stood in a position to better the lives of millions of people across several states and Mexico—and that real people had given up everything to be a part of this.
He’d intended to fully brief them in Cabo, but a colonel in the Mexican army had decided to declare war on a rogue criminal element in Estación Coahuila, effectively sealing off the roads leading south. Bringing them here had been a risky move. He could have tried to reroute the entire escape farther west, into the Baja Peninsula, but changing the plan at such a late hour carried too much risk. Maybe this would work out better, allowing Jose to make his desperate pitch at the source—CLM’s southern headquarters.
When he stood up from examining the reports, satisfied that nothing appeared out of order, an unfamiliar face near the southern corridor drew his attention. It was Nathan Fisher, rubbing his chin, taking in the operations center with a neutral look. Jose had hoped he might look a little more impressed. This was going to be a very tough sell indeed.
“No coffee?” said Nathan. “I would have expected a pot of coffee in an operations center.”
Jose smiled. At least he recognized it as an ops center. That was a start. “I can get a fresh pot going in the canteen, along with some lunch for you and your family. Come on in.”
Nathan took a few hesitant steps into the expansive room. “I think we’ll grab a bite to eat at a taco stand on the way out.”
“That would not end well for you.”
“I’ll grab some Imodium at a pharmacy,” replied Nathan.
“You’ll need something stronger than that on these streets. I assume you’ve pieced together where we brought you?”
“Mexicali.”
“Former heart of the Sinaloa cartel’s US distribution system. The Mexicali plaza, as they called it, was the most profitable of the eight Sinaloa border plazas. Nearly everything got through the border station. At one point, a joint DEA/US Customs undercover investigation indicated that forty drug shipments got through the ten-lane crossing for every shipment detected. Now? Nothing gets across, and the city has devolved into a violent, unmitigated shithole. Perfect for hiding our little operation, but nobody goes topside without cartel permission and a serious armed escort.”
“Which I presume you can arrange for us—soon.”
“Why the hurry?” he said, hoping to get a better gauge of Nathan’s situational awareness.
“Do you really have to ask? It’s only a matter of time before Cerberus rolls into town and starts waving around enough money to dissolve any of the loyalty you’ve cultivated over the years. Please tell me you’re aware of the consequences of bringing us here.”
Very aware.
“I considered those consequences before we decided to rescue you. I knew it spelled
the end of our Mexicali stay.”
Nathan appeared to consider his words, and for the briefest moment, Jose thought it might be that easy. He should’ve known better than to get his hopes up.
“I’m afraid I’m going to disappoint you,” said Nathan.
“At least hear what I have to say, and if you don’t mind doing me a favor, can you convince David to listen?”
“I think he has enough on his plate right now.”
“We don’t have a lot of time, as you pointed out,” said Jose.
“All the more reason to move this discussion elsewhere.”
“Give me an hour at the most. I’ll get some coffee going and dig up some decent rations. Your wife should be here, too.”
“You don’t want her in the audience.”
“Probably not, but I know how it works,” said Jose. “All in or all out. At least that’s how my family rolled.”
“Yeah? So your family’s here, too?” said Nathan, defiantly.
“No. I lost them in the Albuquerque firestorm.” Jose quickly mastered the tears before they could surface. It was his parlor trick, leaving nothing for an observer but the slightest pause in his speech.
“Oh. Sorry. I didn’t—I can’t imagine,” said Nathan. “I thought everyone—you’re not from California?”
“This is way bigger than California, Nathan. That’s what I need to show you,” said Jose, glancing at the wall-size maps covered with symbols on the far eastern wall of the room.
Nathan’s eyes followed, stopping when they reached the maps. Jose watched as he took them in. They were too far away for him to decipher the strategic or tactical significance of the symbols and markings, but surely close enough for him to feel the gravity of their purpose.
“Let me show you where to find David,” said Jose. “Shall we reconvene in fifteen minutes with coffee and hot chow?”
Nathan nodded, his eyes drifting from the wall to Jose. “I can’t make any promises,” he said.
“I just want an opportunity to explain the bigger picture, and why you’re important enough to scrap our location here.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” said Nathan, hesitantly. “Have you tried talking to David yet?”
Jose grimaced. “We were up nearly until dawn burying his wife. I haven’t wanted to bother him—but time is running short.”
“He buried Alison already?” said Nathan, looking confused. “What happened to the whole proper burial thing you promised?”
“Proper takes on a whole different meaning in Mexicali. After a long discussion with David, we decided on a more practical burial service. More private.”
“Where did you bury her? Never mind. I don’t want to know,” said Nathan, shaking his head. “And he was fine with this?”
“He was far from fine with it, but he knew there was no other realistic option. A quarter of the city’s remaining population perished in the violence and chaos that followed California’s border closure. The funeral industry vanished nearly overnight. It was all they could do to bury the hundreds of bodies produced every day.”
“You just dug a hole outside and buried her in it?”
“We have a place set aside for this kind of thing, on the outskirts of city. It was the best we could do under the circumstances.”
“And you weren’t going to tell me any of this before I walked over and woke him up?”
“He doesn’t blame you,” said Jose. He blames me, for not getting there in time.
“I got him into this,” said Nathan.
“That’s not how he thinks, and you know it. I believe your father shares the same warrior ethos?”
“I don’t like how much you know about me.”
“Funny thing is, I’d never heard of you until two days ago.”
“Nothing funny about that,” said Nathan.
“I suppose not, but you’d be surprised to learn how much has transpired on your behalf between then and now. Your arriving here is just short of a miracle. Let me show you where you can find David so I can explain why.”
CHAPTER 11
A hesitant knocking at the door drew David Quinn’s attention away from the dark knot in one of the uneven ceiling planks directly above him. The same knot he’d stared at, off and on, for the past few hours, during bouts of consciousness. He was past the point of sleep deprivation, caught between the waking and sleeping world in a form of purgatory, where the certainty of his current situation remained slightly out of focus. Where his wife’s death didn’t feel real.
Another knock. David’s eyes lazily drifted toward the door, wanting nothing more than to continue staring at the ceiling.
“Yeah?”
The door cracked open, a partial face visible but undefined through the slit.
“Can I come in?” Nathan.
“Yeah. Shut the door behind you.”
Nathan slid inside the room and closed the door while David sat up—still dressed in a bloodied, dust-caked uniform. Alison’s blood. Nathan patted a loosely folded stack of clothing on the battered wooden chair next to the door. Military-style clothing, from what David could tell. He barely remembered the clothes being there. He’d collapsed onto the mattress when they’d removed his hood and showed him into the room.
“They thought you might want to change out,” said Nathan.
“I’m good.”
Nathan surveyed him and his filthy clothes from head to foot, nodding without comment. They stared at each other for a few awkward moments.
It was all he could do to look at Nathan, let alone carry on a conversation with him. Rationally, he knew he couldn’t blame him for Alison’s death, but David was still pretty far from sustaining a logical inner monologue. He needed time—and separation—from all of this. He suspected he wasn’t about to get either.
“So. What’s going on?”
“Jose wants to show us what they’re up to,” said Nathan.
David shook his head, keeping quiet.
“I’m guessing it’s a sales pitch for joining the cause,” said Nathan.
“Not interested.” And that was an understatement.
“I didn’t think you would be,” said Nathan, followed by another long pause that Nathan finally broke. “Listen,” he said. “We need get out of here sooner than later. This is an old cartel bunker. Probably a holding point back in the day for drug packages that went into the cars and backpacks pouring through the border control station. So this place isn’t even close to being off the radar. A little Cerberus money in the wrong hands, and we’ve got a problem.”
The mention of Cerberus cut through the thick fog of guilt and disbelief clouding his mind. David suddenly understood why Nathan was standing there, watching him like that. Nathan couldn’t see the crippling storm of self-doubt and remorse clouding David’s thoughts. He still saw Captain David Quinn, United States Marine Corps. His family’s protector and savior.
The thought buoyed him for a moment before the heavy curtain of reality closed on him. Nathan was one of very few people he had managed to adequately protect and save last night. David put his hands on the sides of his tightly shaved head and squeezed, exhaling deeply. Nathan was thinking clearly. Mexicali was the worst possible place for them to hide. The city was a graveyard waiting to be filled. He had to get a grip on himself.
“Does it look like we can slip out of here?” said David, fairly certain of the answer.
“They have the place locked down pretty tight.”
“I assume they have our gear locked down pretty tight as well.”
“They delivered our rucksacks, but no weapons or helmets.”
“That’s no good,” said David. “Liberating the rifles and helmets needs to be our first priority. And the satphone.”
“They took your satphone?”
“They’re operating under strict emissions control security protocols here. I get that, but we can’t leave without the phone. That’s the only secure link to your dad and mine.”
“We were
supposed to contact them this morning. They have to be worried out of their minds.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. It’s quite possible that Major General Nichols, First Marine Division’s commanding general, knows our status. We can only hope he reached out to my dad.”
“So is that our play? Head north somehow?”
“With an emphasis on the somehow.”
“What about going south for a while?”
“Is Jose still offering an all-expense-paid yacht trip to Cabo?” said David.
“I’m not sure. My guess is no.”
“We can’t go south on our own. We’d draw more attention to ourselves south of the border than north of it. Gringos are persona non grata in Central America after the trade shutdown. South America, too, for that matter. We need to vacate this bunker, pronto, and work on that somehow-head-north thing. I can’t imagine they’ll loan us a four-wheel-drive vehicle after we politely decline their offer to join the resistance, or whatever they’re operating.”
“Jose didn’t sound very optimistic about our survival prospects on the mean streets of Mexicali,” said Nathan.
“That’s why we need to get our shit back. A suppressed rifle and night vision–equipped goggles can work miracles after dark,” said David, feeling alive again.
“I don’t think we’re collecting our shit or slipping out of here without either sitting through his sales pitch or raising some serious hell. I say we give him our attention and take it from there. I feel like we owe him that much.”
David nodded reluctantly. He couldn’t deny the fact they would be stuffed in dark green government body bags, tidily arranged inside a sweltering Yuma air base hangar, if Jose’s force hadn’t intervened. Or whoever had initially intervened on their behalf. Mexican Special Forces? He’d love to hear how Jose had managed to arrange what amounted to a foreign invasion—if it didn’t take too long.
“I’m not opposed to hearing what he has to say,” said David. “But we’re out of here as soon as the sun sets. We need to be as far as possible from Mexicali when Cerberus gets its first sniff.”
Rogue State (Fractured State Series Book 2) Page 6