Termination Order: A Team Reaper Thriller

by Brent Towns

  He looked at it and shrugged.

  “Would you like to see?”

  Again, he shrugged.

  Cara took the piece of paper away and revealed the picture of a woman, early thirties, long black hair, maybe Italian. She placed it on the table in front of Falk. When she did, it revealed another picture, this one of a girl perhaps ten, almost the image of her mother.

  She repeated her actions, and the face of a boy appeared. A little younger than the girl, but again, the same facial features as his mother.

  Falk moved uncomfortably in his seat. Cara said, “Nice family. Are they still in Italy? Tuscany? Lovely part of the world. Sienna, I believe.”

  Falk became defensive again. “Fuck you,” he hissed.

  “If I had a family like that, I’d be scared too. Marek must be a hard man, yes? Has to be to have gotten where he is. Does he have his own personal hitmen? Who’ll protect them after you’re shipped back to the U.S.?”

  Falk said nothing.

  “It won’t really matter for you, though. Once you’re Stateside, you’ll never have contact with them again. So, you won’t know if they’re alive or dead, will you?”

  Staring into space, Falk remained silent, however, the set of his jaw told Cara all she needed to know. Even though he was a criminal, he was still a family man. “What will it take for you to talk to us, Fabian?”

  He glanced up at her, his mind working as he processed what she’d just said. Opening his mouth briefly, he paused before anything came out, then snapped it shut.

  “Do you have something to say?” Traynor asked in a less confronting tone.

  “Do you want us to take care of your family, Fabian?” Cara asked him. “Is that it?”

  She could see it was. Turning in her seat, she shot a questioning glance back at Thurston. The general nodded her approval and Cara turned back. “What if we can arrange for your family to be transported back to the U.S? Keep them safe, put them in a new house, take care of them? Will that do?”

  “No. I want to be with them.”

  “Not going to happen. You have a date with a nice cold cell.”

  “Then I have nothing to say,” he growled.

  Cara thought for a moment then motioned to Traynor. He leaned in close, and Cara whispered into his ear, “What if we can get them into witness protection Stateside, and the DEA can use him as an informant for drug operations in Europe?”

  “It might work. We’d need to get clearance first.”

  Nodding, Cara came to her feet, and they both left the table, walking across to Thurston’s observation point. “What is it?”

  “Ma’am, we figure that if we can get Falk and his family back home, the DEA can set them up somewhere under the proviso that he spills about the European drug trade. He’d be a high-value informant and source for them. If we can offer that, there might be a greater chance that he will give us what we need on Marek.”

  Thurston looked at Traynor. “What do you think?”

  “I think it’s sound, ma’am. He’s like a vault waiting to be opened. All we need is the key.”

  “All right. I’ll make a call. But I want something in return.”

  “Copy.”

  They returned to the table. This time they both sat down. Cara said, “Our boss is making a call, but she wants something in good faith. Something we can check, so we know that you’re on the level.”

  “Call about what?”

  “About you and your family.”

  “I will talk then. Not before.”

  “No, you give us something now, or I’ll tell her not to bother,” Cara snapped. Her voice grew hard, “Don’t fuck with me, Fabian, or it’ll all go away. You are this close to making a deal of a lifetime, and you are going to blow it, for what?”

  He stared into her eyes and then said, “How about the location of his biggest ecstasy lab?”

  “In Poland?”

  “No, Latvia.”

  CIA Safehouse

  Warsaw, Poland

  “Sir, I think we might have something,” the computer tech said to Newcomb as he walked past.

  The black ops team was set up in a double-story CIA safehouse in southern Warsaw. It was a large building on a small estate of about two acres. The house itself was set back off the road with well-tended gardens, a high-security fence, and security cameras all around. Also, there were motion sensors scattered throughout the grounds.

  Inside was new, clean, modern. The team was set up in the large dining room; their equipment spread out across every available surface. Since their arrival, the team’s computer guy had been working hard to find Axe. Now, it would seem, his tenacity had paid off.

  Nicole joined Newcomb at the tech’s side, the CIA man asking, “What is it?”

  “I tried tracking our target using street cameras, security, stuff like that but I eventually lost him. However, I was able to get into the NSA servers and get some satellite footage from one of their birds. It would seem that one of those tasked to fly over Russia also happens to pass over Warsaw. And somehow, by pure dumb luck, it managed to pick up this.”

  He hit a key and brought up a picture on his laptop. It showed Axe walking along a narrow street.

  The tech continued. “With this new information, I managed to find a string of cameras which led me to here.”

  Another picture flashed up of a block of rundown apartments. “He’s in there.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, sir. My guess is that he’s laying up waiting for someone.”

  Newcomb glanced at Nicole. “The rest of the team? I thought we had them tracked to Ramstein?”

  “As far as I know, they’re still there,” Nicole said. “Unless they’ve a team inbound to pick him up for extraction.”

  Newcomb nodded. “I think you’re right. Get Greer and the rest of his team over there now. Have them sit on the place until the others show. And tell him to wait until they’re inside and then breach. Kill them all.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Chapter 12

  Warsaw, Poland

  “Pull up here,” Kane told Brick. “That’s the place across the road.”

  The SUV came to a halt alongside the curb, and the three men looked up at the five-floor, rundown apartment block on the opposite side of the street. It was an old concrete construction with most of the windows smashed. Some of the balconies retained ownership of piles of junk left by long-gone tenants. Graffiti adorned the external walls of the bottom floor, the perfect height within easy reach for artists with spray cans. A temporary mesh construction fence enclosed both that building and the one adjacent, a sign in Polish attached to it, informing any interested parties of what the future held for the land currently occupied by the blocks of derelict apartments.

  In the back, Arenas looked around the street. Apart from a couple of cars and one pedestrian walking in the opposite direction, it looked reasonably quiet. The sidewalks were a little overgrown with grass, and there was plenty of rubbish lying in the gutters.

  “I think we’re clear,” he said.

  Kane said, “All right, comms in.”

  He punched in a number for the satellite phone, and Thurston answered. “Ma’am, we’re on site and about to enter the building.”

  “Listen, Reaper, I’ve tried to contact Axe, but I can’t get through. His cell has probably gone flat but just in case, be careful.”

  “Any more on Newcomb?”

  “Negative. They went dark, and we lost them. We don’t have visual, Reaper. You’re on your own for this one. Once you get Axe, find a place to lay up, somewhere very public like a hotel. Then call me back for further orders.”

  “Copy, ma’am.”

  “Good luck.”

  Thurston hung up, and Kane tucked the phone in his pocket. He put his comms in and said to the others, “Take everything you need. Brick, bring the medic pack. The general hasn’t been able to raise Axe so be alert. It may just be a dead cell, or it could be worse. Right, let’s g
o.”

  Alighting from the SUV, they glanced around once more before starting across the street. Their M17s were tucked into their belts, out of sight. Gaining access through a gap in the mesh fence, they climbed through silently and moved to the front door and tried it. With a click, it opened, and after drawing their weapons, they slipped inside.

  “Right, they’ve gone inside,” Greer said to his team. “We follow and take them down. You’ve seen the blueprints. Rick, Chuck, you take stairwell two. Like we planned. With Kent and me taking one there’ll be no way down. Sims, you stand sentry on the entrance just in case someone does slip past. If anything, they’ll likely go up. Good for us, bad for them. Any questions?”

  No one said a word. They were all clear on what was required of them.

  “OK. Let’s do this,” Greer said. Then into his comms, “Raven Base? Raven One, we’re breaching now, over.”

  “Copy, Raven One. Raven Base out.”

  The stench of stale urine was the first thing to assail the nostrils of Reaper and the others as they pushed in through the door. Someone had obviously come off the street and taken a piss in there. They wrinkled their noses then brushed it aside.

  Starting up the stairs to the first floor, they reached the landing and stopped. Reaper said, “We’re going to have to clear these floors one at a time until we find him.”

  Arenas stood watching in the hallway as Kane and Brick made their way methodically down the corridor to the end. The first door opened, producing the rancid smell of mold and other unknown matters. Overall, the once white walls were covered in graffiti, the drywall contained more holes than Swiss cheese, and most of the doors to the apartments were open, some off their hinges.

  Reaper swept the first bedroom in the initial apartment. It contained a stinking mattress, covered in stains. The wall had multiple tags of some descript, most painted around the many holes.

  He came out and entered the filthy kitchen-come-living room. Brick had already cleared it and proceeded into the second bedroom. It too still held a steel-framed bed. The mattress slashed and burgeoning its ancient horse-hair stuffing. That left the bathroom for Kane to clear. Again, empty.

  They met back in the living room. “This is going to take forever if we have to do this, Reaper,” Brick said.

  Kane nodded. “It’s the only way, other than telegraph our presence. And if Newcomb and his goons are around, then we’ll be in trouble.”

  They managed to clear the remaining three apartments reasonably efficiently before reaching the other end and the door to the second stairwell. Arenas opened it and immediately pulled back. “There is someone coming up the stairs.”

  Kane slipped his head out the door and peered down the stairwell. There were two men armed with suppressed MP5s. He eased back through the door and closed it. “Back. Get back; it’s Newcomb’s men.”

  They hurried back along the hallway and were outside the third apartment when the door at the other end made a noise and began to open.

  “Fuck!” Reaper cursed softly. “In there.”

  They moved into the third apartment and eased the door closed just as Greer appeared, sweeping the hallway with his weapon.

  “I guess we’re kind of trapped, huh?” Brick said.

  Kane’s eyes darted around the room and focused on the sliding glass door which led out onto the balcony. Hurrying across to it, he tried the door. It rattled and bumped as it slid along its dirty and damaged track. Arenas and Brick stared at him, and the latter said, “Don’t tell me he’s looking to jump off another building.”

  Arenas gave him a grim smile. “I didn’t see a pool down there, my friend, did you?”

  “Shit.”

  Kane looked over the edge of the rail to the ground some fifteen feet below, and the first thing he saw was the man standing guard. Stepping back, he thought some more. Staying put meant that before too long, Newcomb’s men would find them. And the bastards were equipped with automatic weapons. Sure, they could make a fight of it, but eventually they would take casualties and possibly all wind up dead.

  He stepped forward again, taking another furtive look down. The man was no longer there but couldn’t have gone far; he’d been put there for a reason. That ruled out that direction. Then he looked up.

  “You ain’t thinking what I think you are, are you Reaper?”

  Kane looked at him. “We can’t stay here.”

  Brick shook his head. “I knew it was a bad idea coming to work for you.”

  “Could be worse,” Kane said, tucking his M17 into his belt. “We could be higher. Carlos, keep an eye on the ground. They’ve posted a sentry. If he looks up, pop him.”

  Arenas moved to the balcony rail and peered down, his handgun up in a firing position. “Whenever you are ready, amigo.”

  Kane climbed up onto the rail and reached overhead to get a grip on the edge of the floor of the balcony above. The rail wobbled perilously, and for a moment, it looked as though it might collapse under his weight. He just hoped the one above was in better shape than this one.

  Reaper steadied himself, sucked in a deep breath, and pulled himself up. His legs flailed about in mid-air as his right hand shot up to grab the bottom part of the rail above. It held. Then he swung a leg up, using his mighty core strength to hook it on the edge of the balcony.

  Pulling himself up, he eased over it and onto the filthy floor surface. He turned and looked back down. There was still no sign of the sentry. He signaled to Brick, and the ex-SEAL climbed up onto the rail.

  Gritting his teeth, he copied the moves he’d watched Kane perform. Once within reach, Kane grasped his arm and started to haul him over the rail. But things weren’t meant to go smoothly for the team, and when Kane had Brick almost over the rail, it collapsed, and the ex-SEAL was stranded hanging in midair.

  Most of the rail hit the external pavement with a loud rattle. Below, the sentry appeared and looked up.

  “Hijo de puta!” Arenas swore and fired down at the man. BLAM! BLAM!

  The operator rocked back and fell to the ground. Both rounds had penetrated on a downward trajectory behind the man’s vest, ripping through muscle and vital organs. He coughed blood and went still.

  While this was happening, Kane gritted his teeth and dragged Brick over the edge of the balcony.

  “Carlos, move!” Kane shouted. “Hurry, before they get here.”

  Too late, the door crashed back, and an operator filled the void, his MP5 raised to fire. Arenas beat him to the punch, firing a handful of shots that peppered all around the shooter, none hitting, but they had the desired effect. He disappeared out into the hallway. Arenas blew off three more rounds and then stuffed the M17 into his belt. Then, without hesitation, he leaped at the hands reaching down to haul him up.

  It was like riding an invisible elevator. Kane and Brick’s combined strength lifted him easily to the next level. Arenas gained his feet, and he said, “I do not like Poland.”

  Brick smiled. “I actually think it’s starting to grow on me.”

  “Come on, let’s get out of here before they trap us on this floor.”

  Hurrying through the apartment and out into the hall, they’d almost made it to the second stairwell when a familiar face appeared from the last doorway. “About time you showed up. I was getting lonely around here.”

  Kane was so wired he almost shot him. The M17 came up, and his finger flexed on the trigger. He was only a hair away from putting a bullet in his friend’s face. “What the fuck, Axe?”

  The big man limped out into the hallway. “What’s all the shooting?”

  “Newcomb’s team has found us.”

  “Shit. What now?”

  Kane reached out and relieved him of the MP5. He checked the magazine and said, “We’re getting the hell out of here. Brick, rear security. Carlos on me, Axe, you take number three.”

  Of course, they picked the wrong stairwell. The law of averages gave them a fifty percent chance of being right. But there was always th
e other fifty percent. The one they chose.

  As soon as Reaper hit the stairwell, he heard them coming up. He reversed and thought for a moment. “All right. Back up.”

  They did so by moving toward the far stairwell. At the halfway point along the hallway, Kane directed them into an apartment. Once inside, Kane said, “We wait until they’re in the hallway and then we take them. I’ll go first and then Carlos you leapfrog me and then Brick you do the same. We’ll bring down a suppressing fire, and hopefully, we’ll take them by surprise.”

  “Roger that.”

  “Roger that.”

  “I’m just going to burn through this first mag on the MP5 so be ready to move. It’s all about suppression.”

  The hinges on the door at the end of the hallway squeaked as it swung open. Kane waited, counted to twenty, then moved. He stepped out into the middle of the hallway, the MP5 up in the firing position.

  There were four operators making their way along the hallway. All wore tactical vests and carried MP5s. Reaper’s sudden appearance took them by surprise. So much so, that they hesitated.

  Kane let rip with a sustained burst from his weapon. It burned through the magazine in a heartbeat. He dropped to his knee and clawed at his M17. Behind him, Arenas was already moving. His handgun up as he methodically squeezed the trigger.

  The first man in the line was already falling when Arenas emerged. Three rounds from Kane’s MP5 had done their bloody work. One had hit the vest, while two others had torn open the man’s throat. The wounds sprayed their own graffiti on the painted walls.

  Arenas concentrated on the second operator. Of the first four shots, three hit him in the chest, punching him back into the man behind him. Unable to free up a weapon, this third shooter was an easy target for the ex-Mexican special forces commander as he placed two rounds in his head.

  Once Arenas was dry, Brick emerged and leapfrogged them both. He shot the struggling man that Arenas had stopped dead with the rounds to the chest. Then he shifted aim to the last shooter, the bald man with the beard who was retreating and firing at the same time.