by Brent Towns
Team Reaper HQ
El Paso, Texas
Ferrero massaged his temples, the greying hairline moving with the circular motion. “Teller, have you got an alternative route yet?”
The Airforce UAV tech shook his head without taking his eyes from the screen in front of him. “Working on it, sir.”
“Work faster. Swift, get onto our friends across the border and ask them to get some help out there ASAP.”
“Zero?” UAV pilot Brooke Reynolds called to Ferrero. “It looks like Reaper has his team on the move, sir.”
Reynolds, like Cara, was tall and athletic, however, her hair was long and black and tied back in a ponytail. Ferrero looked at the larger screen in front of him. She was right; the team was moving towards an alley across from the burning SUV.
“Christ,” Ferrero muttered. “They’re headed into the lion’s den.”
“I count ten friendlies in all, sir,” Reynolds reported.
“Damnit!” Ferrero cursed. “They were almost to the border. Do you have any idea where they’re headed, Bravo Three?”
“No, sir. Nothing over that way but warehouses. Unless …”
“Unless, what?” Turner asked.
“They’re three blocks from the warehouse the DEA are sitting on.”
Ferrero nodded. “Reaper One? Zero. Do you read? Over.”
“Copy, Zero.”
“Are you figuring on slipping out the back door? Over.”
“Zero? Reaper One. That’s affirmative. Over.”
“Good luck. Zero out.”
Turner stepped in beside Ferrero and muttered, “The DEA is going to love this.”
Team Reaper
Ciudad Juárez
“Axe! On your left,” Kane snapped as they made their way along the narrow alley.
Axe brought his weapon around and fired a burst at a figure leaning out of a second-floor window to get a better shot. The bullets stitched the cartel soldier across the chest, and he fell forward from the opening and landed with a soggy thump at the big man’s feet.
“Bet that hurt,” he hissed.
Behind him, Kane fired his own burst at another shooter higher up. Following him was Cara. She had her HK up to her shoulder, her finger along the side plate not far from the trigger.
At the rear of the small column came Arenas who watched their six. He’d already shot two tattooed figures down.
In all, they’d managed to escape the buzzsaw with ten souls. Six from Team Reaper and four Federales, one of whom was Perez.
They continued to make their way warily along the alley.
“Lookout!” Axe snapped and dived behind a pile of wooden crates.
At the far end of the alley, a figure appeared with an RPG. He raised it to his shoulder and fired. Nine of the ten survivors dived onto the rubbish-strewn asphalt. Only Cara remained on her feet. She raised her HK with an uncanny calmness and dropped the sights onto the cartel soldier who’d fired the RPG. She stroked her trigger just as the rocket-propelled grenade streaked low over her head and exploded in a ball of fire further along the alley near its mouth. She didn’t flinch, and the 5.56 NATO round punched into the would-be killer’s head, blowing his brains out across the lumpy pavement.
“Tango down,” Cara’s voice was steady.
“Fuck,” Axe swore. “I think I landed in dog shit.”
If the situation hadn’t been so dire, the remarks would have been funny. Instead, Kane said, “Cara, take point. Axe, you take over from Carlos.”
“Where the hell are we going?” Spencer demanded.
“The warehouse.”
“What warehouse?”
Kane grew testy. “The one the DEA is sitting on.”
“We can’t go there. We’ll ruin their operation.”
“We don’t have time for this shit, Spencer. Come or stay, it’s your choice.”
“Reaper One? Bravo Three. We have eyes on hostiles converging on your position. Suggest you keep moving.”
“Copy, Bravo Three. We’re moving now.”
The street at the end of the alley was deserted. No civilians could be seen in either direction, only parked cars. Cara stopped to sweep both right and left with her HK and found no targets. She toggled her mic. “Bravo Three? Reaper Two. Do you still have eyes on the tangos? Over.”
“Negative, Reaper Two,” Teller’s calm voice came back. “They’ve gone to ground. But they’re there.”
Kane reached her shoulder. “What is it?”
“See for yourself.”
Reaper eased out and scanned the street. “Looks mighty empty.”
“But where the hell are they?”
“The alley on the other side looks clear. Think you can make it?”
Cara shrugged. “I guess there is only one way to find out.”
“Wait,” Kane said and toggled his mic. “Bravo Three? Reaper One. Is there anything on the rooftops at this moment?”
“Negative, Reaper One.”
Kane turned and waved Arenas and Axe forward. “Traynor, watch our six.”
“Roger.”
“What’s up, boss?” Axe growled.
Kane screwed up his nose as his olfactory system was overwhelmed by the stench of dog shit. “Man, you stink.”
“Is that it?”
“No. I’m sending Cara across the street to the alley. I want you to keep an eye on the windows over that way. Carlos, you take the right of the street, and I’ll take the left. Consider everything you see as hostile.” He turned to Cara. “We’ve got you.”
Cara nodded, took a deep breath, and then ran.
Into a hailstorm of lead.
“Window, one o’clock,” Axe said calmly and squeezed off a shot. “Tango down.”
Kane saw another cartel soldier rise from behind a parked car. He shifted his aim and nailed the man right in the tattooed face.
More appeared and the three shooters kept up a steady rate of fire at their targets. Cara ran, head down with her weapon across her chest. Bullets kicked up from the asphalt around her feet. Then Kane heard a weapon open fire from almost directly above him and to his left. Fist-sized chunks of the road started to lift behind Cara as the shooter followed her track. Then at the last moment, when it seemed that she would be cut down, she dived behind a parked car.
“Motherfucker!” Axe shouted. “Where the hell did the fifty-cal come from?”
“We’ve gotta take it out!” Kane shouted back.
Across the road, Cara hid behind the safety of the car’s engine block as more rounds from the .50 caliber machine gun thundered into the vehicle.
In her earpiece, she heard Kane’s voice. “Reaper Two, are you OK?”
“You want to shut this prick down sometime soon?”
“Copy. We’re working on it.”
“We need a rabbit,” Axe pointed out.
“What is a rabbit?” Arenas asked as he put down another cartel soldier.
“Someone to draw his fire so we can take him out.”
“OK. Don’t miss.”
Arenas broke cover and started across the street. Immediately, the shooter shifted his aim and concentrated his fire on the darting figure.
“Ballsy,” Axe grumbled.
Both Kane and Axe stepped out and turned. They raised their carbines and found their target. The barrel poked from a window and spewed fire at the fleeing Mexican.
“I can’t get a shot at it!” Kane shouted to Axe.
“I’ve got it covered,” the big ex-sniper bellowed, reaching into his pocket and retrieving something.
Before Reaper realized what it was, the pin on the grenade had been pulled, and the thing was hurtling through the air and into the open window. He looked at Kane and said, “You might want to duck.”
The grenade detonated with an immense roar, blowing debris out onto the street below. Kane and Axe retreated into the alley out of the way.
The machine gun fell silent, and Kane stared at the big man. “Where the fuck did you get a grenade from?”
Axe gave him a broad grin. “Never leave home without one.”
Reaper turned back and called to Perez. “Get your men across the street. Now!”
Perez barked some orders to his remaining men, and they pushed forward to the mouth of the alley.
“Reaper One? Bravo Three, copy?”
Kane paused and toggled his mic. “Copy, Bravo Three.”
“There is a crowd of around twelve armed hostiles coming along the street from your right, over.”
“What the hell is this? Fucking Syria?”
“Say again, Reaper One?”
“I said copy, Bravo Three.”
Perez moved in beside Kane. “Is everything OK?”
“You need to get your guys across the street. Don’t stop for anything. You’ll have cartel assholes coming at you from the right.”
“This day just gets better, Amigo.”
“Keep your head down.”
The four Federales broke cover and started across the street. Once again, the fire from the cartel soldiers intensified, and bullets pinged off the asphalt all around them. The second man in line suddenly cried out and fell hard. He tried to rise, but a second bullet slammed into his head, and he slumped flat. The man directly behind him stopped to check on his fallen comrade.
“Keep going!” Kane shouted at him. “Keep going!”
The man didn’t heed their warning shouts and paid the ultimate price. Two bullet strikes put him down beside his friend on the asphalt, and blood began to pool around them.
“Your plan seems to be working just fine, Kane,” Spencer said with an overabundance of sarcasm.
“You’re next. You and Traynor.”
“If you think I’m going out there, you’ve got another thing coming,” Spencer said defiantly.
“Pete, you ready?”
Traynor gave him a grim look. “I guess.”
“Movement on our six,” Axe snapped and fired a burst at two cartel men who’d entered the alley. “Get your ass out there, Pete.”
When the former DEA agent started across, Kane came out with him. Only for a few steps, but enough to draw some of the fire away from his man and to give himself line of sight along the street at the approaching crowd. He fired two bursts, and they dispersed behind the cover of parked cars. However, they left two of their own on the street.
“Get your ass back in here, Reaper, you crazy bastard!” Axe called out.
Kane almost casually re-entered the alley mouth and leaned against the wall. Meanwhile, Traynor had made it across and dived behind a battered Ford pickup.
“Reaper One? Zero, Over.”
“Copy, Zero.”
“The Mexicans have a helicopter up, and it should be overhead in one minute. Over.”
“Copy, Zero.”
“Reaper, they’ll provide you with overwatch. Zero out.”
“Reaper One to Reaper Team. Everyone sit tight. There’s a helo inbound to provide us with support.”
Through the gunfire, Kane could suddenly make out the whop-whop of the helicopter. It grew steadily louder and then swept overhead with an immense roar. It was a UH-60 Black Hawk. Kane could see a door gunner as it banked to come around. It bled off airspeed as it did so and slowed right down.
The door gunner opened fire at targets of opportunity along the street. Suddenly the helo came to a hover almost above their position.
Alarm registered on Axe’s face, and it didn’t go unnoticed. Kane cursed. The pilot had just made himself a stationary target. Before Reaper could try to make radio contact with the bird, an RPG was fired from somewhere along the street. Its ordnance streaked through the air at three-hundred meters per second.
The rocket-propelled grenade slammed into the Black Hawk and detonated with terrible efficiency.
“Move! Move!” Kane shouted, and the three remaining members of Team Reaper bolted from the alley.
Above their position, the UH-60 dropped from the sky. The flaming wreck hit the top of the left side building and teetered on the edge before toppling over the precipice and crashing onto the asphalt below.
The narrow alley was shaken by a secondary explosion when the aviation fuel ignited, and a giant fireball rose into the sky above Ciudad Juárez.
The ensuing heat and concussive blast buffetted Kane and thrust him forward. He landed heavily, and all the air was expelled from his lungs with an audible whoosh. In the distance, he could hear shouting, and his earpiece was filled with traffic as the radio came to life in earnest.
“Zero, the Black Hawk is down …”
“Reaper is hit …”
“Reaper One, report …”
Kane felt someone grab his vest. An urgent voice said, “Come on, Reaper, get up.”
He opened his eyes, and Cara’s face swam around in front of him. He groaned. “Fuck.”
“Tell me about it later.”
With Cara’s assistance, Reaper climbed to his feet and stumbled towards the cover of a parked vehicle. He slumped down against it then looked up at her. “Take over.”
Chapter 2
Team Reaper HQ
El Paso, Texas
“Christ almighty, did you see that?” Turner gasped. “They shot that helicopter down.”
“Reaper One? Zero. Report?” Ferrero said into his mic.
Dead air.
“Reaper One, report, over.”
“Zero? Reaper Two, over.”
“Sitrep, Reaper Two.”
“The Federales lost two more men back there, Zero. Plus, the helicopter and whoever was on board that thing. The blast knocked the wind from Reaper’s sails, but we’re up and moving again. Objective still the same.”
“Copy, Reaper Two. Keep me informed.”
Ferrero turned to face Teller and Reynolds. “Keep an eye on them.”
“There’s a phone call for you, sir,” Swift called out.
“Who is it?”
“The Attorney General.”
“Christ. Put him through.”
Ferrero picked up a phone from the nearest desk and said, “Hello?”
“What the fuck is going on down there, Luis?” Attorney General William Bell snarled down the phone.
“It seems that the cartel has come out to play, sir,” he answered.
“They just shot down a fucking helicopter!”
“They did, sir.”
“Get our people out of there, Luis,” Bell snarled from the other end of the line. “The president doesn’t want this turning into a catastrophic fuckup.”
“We’re working on it,” Ferrero snapped.
“And keep them away from that warehouse.”
Christ, Ferrero fumed inside. “And what do you suggest I do … sir?”
“Figure it out, Luis,” Bell snapped and hung up.
Ferrero slammed down the phone, his face the color of Swift’s fiery red hair, and turned his irate glare on the computer tech. Stalking across to the console, he sat and in an icy tone said, “Cut the feed.”
“What?”
“I said cut the fucking feed. What the hell were you thinking?”
Swift’s fingers danced across the keyboard. “I was just following orders, boss.”
“Whose? Because they sure as shit weren’t mine.”
“They were mine.”
Ferrero turned to face the assistant attorney-general. “Why the hell would you do that?”
“Washington wanted in on the feed. They wanted it real-time.”
“Well, thanks to you, I have to find another way out for my people. The warehouse is off limits.”
“I’m sorry, Luis, I too was just following orders.”
“Yeah? Well, those orders are about to get my people killed.”
Swift cleared his throat. “Excuse me, sir.”
“What?” Ferrero snarled.
“You have another call.”
“Tell them to f—”
Swift cut the tirade short. “It’s General Jones, sir.”
General Hank
Jones was the chairman of the joint chiefs. He was also a good man to have in your corner.
“Ferrero here, sir.”
“I see you’ve cut the feed, Luis,” Jones’ deep voice said.
“Yes, sir.”
“Can’t say as I blame you. Can you patch me through to your team on the ground?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good, do it. I only want to say this once so you can have me on open comms if you wish.”
“Yes, sir,” Ferrero nodded and spoke into his mic, “Reaper One? Zero. Do you read? Over.”
Team Reaper
Ciudad Juárez
“Reaper One? Zero. Do you read? Over.”
The voice echoed through Kane’s head as he brought up the rear of the small column. There was no open sign of pursuit behind them, however, it didn’t mean that there was no one about.
Ferrero’s voice came over the radio again. Kane depressed his mic button. “Cara, hold up.”
At the front, Cara brought them to a stop. She turned to Axe and said, “Keep an eye out, I’ll see what’s up.”
Axe nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
She walked back to find Kane, and as she passed Spencer, he asked, “What’s going on?”
“No idea.”
When she reached Kane, he was already communicating with Ferrero. “Yes, sir, patch him through.”
Cara gave Kane a questioning frown.
“General Jones,” he said.
Cara frowned. “What does he want?”
Kane shrugged.
“How are you feeling?”
“Head hurts, but I’m fine.”
“Reaper? This is Jones. Can you hear me, son?”
“I can hear you, sir.”
“I don’t know if Luis has told you yet, but you and your people have been ordered to stay away from that warehouse.”
Kane bit back a curse. “Just how are we meant to get home, sir? If it’s all the same to you, I’ll take them on anyway and deal with the fallout later.”
“Damn it, Reaper, you grow on me some every time I speak to you. That won’t be necessary. I’ve just been on the horn to Admiral Joseph. He’s got two helos airborne, and they’re headed your way.”
Rear-Admiral Alexander Joseph was commander of The United States Naval Special Warfare Command (NAVSPECWARCOM).
