by Brent Towns
“Copy, Reaper Two. Wait one.”
“Talk to me, Cara,” Reaper said.
“Looks like we could have friends, Reaper. You need to keep an eye out for others.”
“Copy.”
About a minute later Swift came over the comms. “Reaper Two, copy?”
“Copy, Bravo Four.”
“I found your two vehicles plus another two for a total of four.”
“Color on the other two?” Cara asked.
“Black. One is three cars back behind your position, and the other is across the street almost where Reaper is.”
“Shit,” Cara hissed under her breath. “Reaper did you get that?”
“Copy.”
“What do you want to do?”
“I’m thinking that the safest place is in that damned bank.”
Although he couldn’t see, Cara nodded and looked at Axe and Arenas. Both agreed. Ferrero said, “Are you sure about that, Reaper?”
“No. But you and the boss don’t want a firefight around the civilians, so that’s the only other option.”
“That’s a fucking trap, Reaper,” Brick hissed from beside him.
Kane knew it was, but while they were inside, maybe they could come up with a plan. “Zero, we’re headed inside.”
“Copy. All elements stand by.”
Bull Horton sat in the black Mercedes SUV and watched Kane and the others turn and walk back toward the bank. Beside him in the passenger seat was Nicole. She said, “They know we’re here.”
Horton nodded in agreement. He reached down to grab his SIG P226 and said into his comms, “Blackbird Team go on my command.”
“Wait,” Nicole snapped. “What are they doing?”
Horton stopped what he was doing and watched. “They’re going into the bank.”
“They’re continuing on mission,” Nicole said, a hint of pride in her voice.
The Blackbird commander nodded. “He’s a tough son of a bitch is Kane. I’ll give him that.”
“He’s going after the ledger,” Nicole said. “The other man with him was Falk. He’s Marek’s man.”
Horton thought for a moment and then said, “Blackbird Four and Six, follow them into the bank but observe only.”
They watched as their team members climbed from a white Mercedes and crossed the street. “Remember, observe only.”
“Reaper One, you’ve got two tangos following you into the bank,” Cara told him over their comms.
“Copy.”
“Zero, what do you want us to do about these other assholes? Over,” Cara asked.
“Just hold, Reaper Two.”
“Copy.” Then, “Axe, see if you can get an eye on who’s in that SUV back there behind us.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He leaned forward in his seat and rummaged around. Coming upholding a rifle scope, he turned around to look out through the back window, staying that way for a minute or so before turning back. He said, “I can make out two people in the SUV. One is Bull Horton himself, and the other is our friendly female CIA agent from the desert.”
“Zero, these guys are Bull Horton’s team. How do you suppose they found out where the hell we were?”
“No Idea. But you can bet that if they’re there, then Newcomb can’t be far away. Keep alert.”
Inside the Deutsche Bank der Schweiz, Kane waited for Falk to open the box in the private room they’d been shown into. Brick stood near the door and waited just in case anyone chose to try and bust in on them.
Once the box was open, Falk reached in and retrieved the ledger. He passed it to Kane who flicked through it and smiled. “Bingo.”
Stuffing it inside his shirt, he said, “Lock it up. It’s time to leave.”
Returning to the marble-floored foyer area, a line of customers waiting to be served, they looked across at the main entrance and the two armed guards who stood there holding SG 553s, both of whom been there when they’d entered. The entrance itself doubled as a large scanner, sensing the presence of anyone entering with a weapon. The third guard sat at a desk, monitoring everyone coming through it, hence the reason that Kane and Brick weren’t armed.
Then he spotted the two men from Bull Horton’s team. The pair were huddled together a short distance from where they stood. Then he noticed something. Both were armed, the telltale bulges of handguns in their jackets.
“Brick, they’ve got guns.”
“I saw them,” he acknowledged. “Don’t ask me how they got the things in here.”
“They’ll be plastic.”
“Haven’t those things been outlawed since the eighties?”
“CIA.”
“You’re right.”
“Zero, we have a problem.”
“Copy, Reaper.”
“Our friends are armed with plastic guns. I need another way out.”
“Wait, One.”
There was a drawn-out pause, and then Thurston came over the comms. “Reaper One? Bravo. You’ve got three minutes.”
Kane was confused. “How so, ma’am?”
“I just called in a possible terrorist alert. Three minutes is how long you have before the police get there.”
“Copy, ma’am,” Kane acknowledged. “The rest of you get that?”
“Copy,” Cara said.
Thurston said, “They will be taken away for questioning for sure. What you need to do is shadow them and make sure that Horton’s men don’t try to intercept. If they do, you’re clear to engage.”
“Copy, Bravo,” Cara said.
Now all they had to do was wait.
Chapter 18
Georgetown Pike, Virginia
Same Time
The sun was just coming up, and Paul Horn was on his way into work. He was speeding along the Georgetown Pike in his dark blue Chevy Suburban, wanting to get there early to monitor the op that was happening in Switzerland.
A few more minutes and he’d be at CIA headquarters. A few more –
“Shit, fuck!” Horn blurted out and swung hard left on the wheel of the Chevy, brakes coming on.
Before him, stopped dead in the middle of the road was a green Tahoe. Even if he’d jammed on his brakes and kept straight, he would more than likely have slammed into it, hence the left-hand swerve. And before he knew it, Horn was on Langley Fork Lane looking at another Tahoe the same color.
Horn came to a stop, cursing. He slammed the shift into reverse, realizing that something was wrong. The Chevy shot backward with a shudder of tires. He looked in the rearview mirror and saw the first vehicle pulling in behind him.
His foot hit the brake pedal again while his right hand made a dive for his personal weapon tucked inside his coat. By the time it was free, and his hand reached the door handle a man was already standing beside the driver’s door with an M17 pointed at him. The man had operator stamped all over him.
A second man appeared on the other side and opened the door, an identical weapon in his hand. “This is a one-time deal, asshole. Get out of the car without any fuss, or I’ll put a bullet in your fucking brain and walk away.”
“Who are you?” Horn demanded.
The M17 centered on Horn’s face, and he raised his left hand in a weak defensive gesture. “All right! All right!”
He opened the door and slid from the seat. The shooter on that side cable-tied his hands behind his back and put a hood over his head. Then they put him into the second Tahoe and drove away; his vehicle abandoned where it stood.
Geneva, Switzerland
Four SUVs pulled up out front of the bank, and ten men exited the vehicles. All were members of the Groupe d'intervention de la police cantonale. Geneva’s special police unit within its Cantonal groups. They were dressed like special forces, which is what they were, in a way. They’d originally been formed to combat terrorism, like the rest of the Cantonal groups.
Each man was armed with a SIG SSG 553, the same weapon as their famed Army Reconnaissance Detachment 10.
Two of the fo
ur SUVs had been parked to block the street one-hundred meters apart. Behind them were the Cantonal Police. The Cantons were another name for agencies, and Switzerland had twenty-six of them. All with their own police department.
Cara and the others watched them deploy. “These guys are good,” Axe observed.
Cara nodded. “They sure are. I heard that they were trained by British SAS.”
“Enough said.”
“British SAS?” Arenas queried.
Axe said, “Tough motherfuckers who’ve kicked more bad guy ass than any other special forces group.”
“Tougher than your Navy SEALs?”
“I’d hate to live off the difference. Back in World War Two, they used to drop them behind enemy lines before breakfast, and they’d have their mission tucked away by lunchtime. From North Africa to the streets of Ireland, and then into Iraq and Afghanistan. They’ve done it all. They even have special branches, depending on what’s required.”
“All right, enough of the history lesson,” Cara said to them. “This shit is about to get real. Reaper One, you’re about to have company.”
“Christ!” Horton hissed through his teeth. “What the fuck is this?”
Nicole said, “Blackbird Base, are you seeing this? Over.”
“Copy,” the voice on the other end of the comms replied. “They are responding to a report of someone suspicious looking going inside. It was made out to be a terrorist threat.”
Shaking her head, Nicole said, “They’re quick on their feet, I’ll give them that.”
Newcomb came on the net. “Everybody, hold your positions. If I’m reading this right, then the Cantonal police will take them out of the bank and transport them back to their HQ. Once they’re mobile, we’ll work out a place to intercept them.”
They watched the police set up, and then as six of them moved in on the bank. Horton said, “Blackbird Four and Six, standby.”
Long before the Groupe d'intervention de la police cantonale entered the bank, Kane had decided that he wasn’t getting arrested. Too many variables, so he devised a plan on the run. It was pretty simple, really. The police were looking for a threat, and he’d give them one.
No sooner had the armed special police entered when Kane pointed at the two men from Horton’s Blackbird team and shouted, “Diese Männer haben Gewehre! Diese Männer haben Gewehre!”
“What the fuck are you doing?” Brick hissed out of the corner of his mouth.
“I just told them that Horton’s men were armed.”
The policemen whirled and brought up their weapons, then started to shout at the surprised men who raised their hands above their shoulders. They were quickly restrained and relieved of their plastic, but lethal, weapons. Then the police laid them face-down on the cold marble floor.
While all the customers tried to gather themselves from the shock of the frantic action, Kane and the others slipped through the crowd and walked outside.
“What now?” Brick asked as he ran his gaze over the roadblocks set up at each end of the street.
Nodding toward an alley across the way, Kane said, “That way.”
They moved briskly across the street, doing their best not to look suspicious. Off to their right, a police officer called out to them, trying to get their attention. “Keep moving,” Kane said to Brick and Falk. Then into his comms, he said, “Reaper Two, abandon the vehicles. Bring what you can.”
“Copy, Reaper One. We’ll regroup on you.”
The shouts from the local police grew louder, two of whom began to close the distance between them. Ferrero’s voice came over the comms, “What are you doing, Reaper One?”
“Leaving,” Kane told him. “Headed towards the river.”
“That wasn’t part of the plan, Reaper.”
“Sorry, Luis, but the plan was fucked from the moment we arrived.”
“Stoppen! Stoppen!” a policeman cried out in German. When that didn’t work, he switched to French.
Meanwhile, Cara and the others had slipped from their SUV and were now cutting a straight line toward Kane’s group. Out of sight inside their pants, they had tucked their M17s. And under their jackets were MP5SDs.
The team caught up with Kane before entering the alley and then they all disappeared.
Bull Horton was far from happy again. Twice he’d been made a fool of by Kane and his team, and he wasn’t about to stand for it. “Blackbird One to Blackbird, copy?”
“Copy, Blackbird One.”
“Permission to pursue on foot?”
“Permission granted, Bull. I want this ended today. You find them and kill them all. Finish it.”
“Roger that,” Horton growled and then he looked at Nicole. “Let’s go.”
He had three other men plus Nicole. The other two remained inside the bank. Five against five. As far as the Blackbird commander was concerned, the odds couldn’t be more one-sided, in his favor.
His men were armed with CQBRs, and the sight of them all walking the street, loaded for bear took the policemen between them and the alley by surprise. On sighting them, the law enforcement officers immediately dropped their hands to their sidearms. A sharp whistle from Horton caused two of his men to raise their weapons and put well-placed bullets in their heads.
Then they too disappeared into the alley.
Team Bravo Warehouse
Geneva, Switzerland
“Christ! Did you see that?” Swift blurted out. “They just shot those policemen down cold.”
A grim expression came over Ferrero’s face. “Reaper One, copy?”
“Copy.”
“You have a team of operators on your six. They just shot two policemen down near the mouth of the alley. They number five in total, and one of them is a woman. Over.”
“Copy, Zero. Rules of engagement?”
Thurston came on. “Reaper One, this is Bravo.”
“Copy, Bravo.”
“You will not engage. I say again, you will not engage. I don’t want a damned firefight on the streets of Geneva. You escape and evade and find your way back here. Is that understood?”
“Yes, ma’am. But I’d like to point out that we may have no say in the matter.”
“Then run faster, Gunny. Don’t give them the chance.”
“Copy, ma’am.”
Thurston turned to face Ferrero who was staring at her. “What?”
The ex-DEA man walked off to one side, and the general followed him. Once they were out of earshot, he said, “I don’t often question your decisions, Mary, but I think this is the wrong one.”
Instead of getting mad at his second-guessing her decision, she said, “Tell me why and I’ll consider it.”
“You’re hamstringing the team and putting other lives in danger, Mary. I know you think that the order you just gave is the right one, but it’s not.”
“Keep going.”
“By not allowing them to fight, you are rendering them ineffective. Horton’s men will have no such order, and you’ve seen what they are willing to do. They just shot two policemen without compunction. If we don’t stop them, more innocent people will die. And they’re not about to give up.”
She stared at him for a time, and he could almost see her thought processes whirring behind her eyes. Then Thurston said, “OK, what do you suggest?”
“We lure them somewhere and take them all out at once.”
“What about the woman?”
“Her too.”
“OK, Luis. Work on something. But just remember if this all turns to shit, we’re both screwed.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Ferrero walked back over to where Swift was working and said to him, “Find me a quiet place on the river where the team can engage Horton’s team without endangering the local population.”
“On it.”
He turned and found Traynor and Reynolds watching from afar. “You two gear up. Put your weapons and tactical vests in the back of the third SUV. Then report back to me.”
&nbs
p; They hurried away, and Ferrero turned back to watch Swift at work. “Have you got anything yet?”
“I’m good, Boss, but I’m not that good. But maybe I am.”
“Well?”
“The Jardin Botanique.”
“English.”
“The Botanical Gardens.”
“Too many people,” Ferrero snapped.
“A lot less than on the mean streets, Boss,” Swift pointed out.
“You could be right,” Ferrero acknowledged. “Reaper One? Zero, copy?”
“Copy, Zero.”
“Make a left up ahead and head to the Geneva Botanical Gardens.”
“Say again?”
“You heard me right. The Geneva Botanical Gardens. Make a stand there. And try not to kill any locals. I’m sending Pete and Brooke out to your location. Zero, out.”
Team Reaper
“Did you all get that?” Kane asked them as they made their way along the street, trying to conceal their weapons as best they could. Kane had Cara’s M17, and Brick had Axe’s.
They replied in the affirmative that they’d heard the orders.
“OK, when we reach the gardens, we split up into teams of two. Cara take Axe, Brick and Me. Carlos, you take Falk and layup. Keep him and the ledger safe. Once Traynor and Reynolds get here, hand him over to them and tell them both to get the fuck out of here. The rest of us take out.”
“Do you feel funny about this, Reaper?” Axe asked.
“Why?”
“They’re our brothers in arms. Hell, we’ve both met him before, and all they’re doing is following orders.”
“It’s them or us. We do what we have to survive. OK?”
“Roger that.”
“All right, let’s move it.”
“This is it,” said Kane. “Everyone check your comms. Bravo Four, copy?”
“Copy, Reaper One.”
“Where are our friends?”
“They’re about two minutes behind you. If I had to guess I’d say they’re tracking you the same as we’re tracking them.”