Reign of Terror
Page 44
disbelief then rose from his chair saying, “All right. I know a brush-off when I see it (she doubted it). Maybe next visit, or I’ll call you when I get back to DC in a few months.”
“I don’t think my fiancé would approve and aren’t you married?”
“Hey, it’s only professional. I wasn’t suggesting anything more.”
“Okay, sorry if I mistook your intentions. How about we say goodnight for now, and I’ll see you in the morning when I leave for the airport?”
He backed out of her office, still savoring the view, “Sure, I’ll be riding with you along with the rest of the security detail.”
She said “goodbye” and tried to imagine how he could be of any help to the security team.
The embassy is located on the Paseo de la Reforma in the center of the city, about seven miles from the airport. Rachael had arranged for a Company flight leaving at ten o’clock in the morning. She called Peter and they talked for several minutes. He told her about his discussion with Stokes, and she vented some of her frustration with the Mexicans and the Agency. They agreed to have dinner when she returned. She went to bed early and dreamed about being with him again. She didn’t mention calling him her fiancé, but they would have that discussion soon.
She was well rested in the morning and dressed in a comfortable navy blue pants-suit for the trip to Washington. Her hair was in a ponytail and she looked forward to washing it at home. She met Steve at nine for the trip to the airport. She wore flats for comfort, and was still taller than him. One of the Marines in civilian clothes opened the back door to the center black SUV, then took a position next to the driver. Steve sat next to Rachael.
The three-vehicle caravan departed the embassy, heading south on a narrow one-way street. Steve explained, “We like to take different routes to the airport. We’ll be on the Chapultepec highway in about ten minutes and then straight to the airport.”
Rachael just nodded and looked out the window. She appreciated the security measures, but the precautions just made it more unnerving.
“Well, I won’t say I’ll miss it. It’s certainly no fun visiting a foreign city and spending the whole time under a security blanket.”
“Yeah, it’s what happens when you’re a Government official. Neither the Mexicans nor the Americans want any problems.”
“Are three carloads of guards really necessary? It sure attracts attention.”
“Better to be safe in numbers.”
He was smiling at her discomfort.
Apprehension
In Washington, Peter was eating lunch at his desk when his cellphone rang showing an unknown number. “Hello.”
A woman’s voice said, “Peter? Is this Major Shields?”
“That depends.”
“Ah, Peter, this is Cybil in Rachael’s office.”
He sat upright. “Yes, Cybil, what’s going on?”
“Oh, Peter, it’s terrible. I don’t know what to say.”
“Calm down, Cybil, what’s going on? Is Rachael okay?”
“Peter, we don’t know. There was an attack on her car. Have you seen the news?”
“No, I’m at work. Tell me, Cybil!”
“Oh, Peter, it’s terrible. They were driving to the airport this morning from the embassy.”
He took a deep breath. “Cybil, tell me what you know.”
“That’s just it, Peter. We don’t know anything yet. It just happened.”
“All right, Cybil. I’ll find out what I can. Please let me know if you learn more.”
“I’ll ... Oh, Peter. She left an envelope for you if there was any trouble.”
He trembled with the thought of a last letter from Rachael. How could the CIA not know more? If they don’t know, then who would know? He rushed to the conference room to watch news reports.
A few moments passed before his phone rang again. This time it was Stokes. “Peter, I just saw a flash on CNN. Some embassy cars got attacked in Mexico City. They say it was a group going to the airport. I hope Rachael wasn’t aboard.”
“John, her office just called. It was her security detail.”
“Oh, God! How is she?”
“Don’t know. Nobody seems to know.”
“Look, Peter. I don’t want to alarm you, but a bunch of security personnel were killed. From the amateur video, I didn’t see any females.”
“John, I gotta go. I’ll call later.”
Peter hung up and tried to decide what to do next. He needed to get more information and called the Pentagon Operations Intelligence office, asking for Master Sergeant Blomstein. Placed on hold, several seconds passed before someone answered, “Blomstein.”
Peter Responded, “Hey, Josh, it’s Shields. I’ve got a problem.”
“Okay, Peter, you sound upset. Tell me what’s going on? You’re a desk jock, remember.”
“Yeah, I know. Something happened, and I need your eyes into the news feeds.”
“What’s going on?”
“Josh, a security detail was taking Rachael to the airport in Mexico City. It looks like they got ambushed.”
“Geez, Peter. We just started getting some stuff. If Rachael was aboard, I’ll dig deep.”
“Thanks, Josh. I just want to know if she’s alive, and where she is.”
“Understand, buddy. And, Peter — I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, well. Thanks, pal.”
After hanging up, he went down the hall to LTC Gates office. “Sir, I’ve got a situation.”
Gates removed his tiny reading glasses that didn’t fit his bulbous head. “What is it, Major?”
“Sir, there’s been an attack on a U.S. security detail from the embassy in Mexico.”
“Okay, so now we got one more catastrophe cuz of the Drug War.”
“Sir, Rachael Aston was being driven to the airport.”
Gates stood, saying, “Sorry, Peter. I didn’t understand.”
“Sir, I want to get involved.”
“Peter, what can you do? This is not in our job description.”
“I don’t know, Colonel, but I can’t just sit around.”
“All right, get productive. Find out what you can, and who’s doing anything about it.”
“Roger that.” Peter left abruptly.
On a private jet, heading for Juarez from Mexico City, Hector Cardenas sat in a comfortable seat facing toward the tail, staring at Rachael. Two body guards sat nearby. They had removed her restraints when she was thrown aboard immediately before takeoff. Her knees were bleeding through torn pant legs from the brutal way she’d been dragged from the car. Most of the blood covering her was from Steve Harris, when they pulled her across his body.
The ambush had worked perfectly, with both the lead and following cars destroyed by RPGs (rocket propelled grenades), trapping the center car. A dozen gunmen surrounded Rachael’s car and the guards surrendered when a mine was placed beneath them. There was no time to radio the embassy for more Marines. When the doors were opened, everyone except Rachael was machine-gunned.
Cardenas smiled at her, “Please, Ms. Aston, make yourself comfortable. You’re not going anywhere at this altitude. Would you like a drink?”
She was hurt but mostly scared and mad as hell. She had never seen people shot in cold blood before. “What do you think you’re doing?”
He smiled calmly, “Do you know who I am?”
“Yeah, you’re that scumbag Cardenas.”
“Oh, please, be polite. I wouldn’t want to treat you like our mutual friend Jamie Montes.”
“Polite has nothing to do with it. You’re a dead man. I’m just waiting around for the celebration.”
“Oh, you and I are going to have our own celebration.”
He signaled his men who wrestled with her to tape her arms behind her back and tied a heavy canvas bag over her head. She fought and could hardly breathe as they threw her into the baggage compartment.
Peter in Motion
He tried calling the embassy, but the commercial phone lines were overloaded. He needed to do something — anything to help, so he called Cybil to pick up the envelope. En route, Josh called him, “Okay, boss, here’s all we know right now. There were three vans and a total of 10 guards, an embassy guy named Harris and Rachael. We think she was in the middle van when the two end vans were blown up, probably by RPGs. The guards in the two end vans were badly wounded by the blast, some dead. The middle van wasn’t destroyed. The two guards and Harris in the middle van were all killed by automatic gunfire. Rachael wasn’t there when police and embassy troops arrived.”
Peter interrupted, “Did anyone see her? Was she taken away, was she wounded, was she hurt?”
“We don’t know, Peter, but she wasn’t there.”
“It sounds like they went specifically after her.”
“Yeah, it does.”
“Okay. Thanks, Josh. I’ll be in touch.”
“Peter, I’ll keep watching for anything new through the intel channels.”
“Roger that. Thanks.”
He arrived at the street corner opposite the Roslyn Metro station where Cybil asked to meet. It was easier than trying to get Peter through CIA security. She was standing by the curb, wearing a tan wool coat against the cold wind blowing from the east. He signaled for her to get into his Explorer.
She climbed in, handing him an envelope and fastening her seat belt. “Oh, Peter, I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks, Cybil. I’ll take you back to Langley.”
“It’s okay, Peter. I parked my car at the Metro parking lot around the corner.”
He laid the unopened envelope beside him and drove to the lot entrance, just a block away.
“Thanks, Cybil. I know Rachael would also be grateful.”
“She’s a nice person,