by Brent Towns
O’Brien stared at Hall, his hard gaze unwavering. The con noticed and said, “What the fuck you looking at?”
“Who the hell are you, boyo?” O’Brien asked.
“First Sergeant Ryan Hall, formerly of the Third Battalion, Seventy-Fifth Ranger Regiment,” Collins said. “Best damned first sergeant I ever had.”
“Where we headed, Captain?”
“After this, as far away as possible.”
Ten miles outside Roanoke
Virginia
There were six black SUVs waiting when the Airbus H225M touched down in the field. All were pointing away from the aircraft to expedite the transfer and exit. The setting sun had the Virginian landscape doused in orange juice.
The first ones out were the mercenaries. Force of habit had them securing the already secure landing zone or LZ. They were followed by Montoya and O’Brien, both of whom were rushed across to one of the waiting SUVs.
Collins remained behind with the helo. Reaching back into the interior of the cabin, he retrieved a satchel and opened it to reveal a small improvised bomb made up of plastic explosive and a timer. Setting the timer for one minute, he left it in the aircraft and hurried away.
As the SUVs were pulling away, the bomb exploded, and the Airbus was ripped apart in a ball of flames and twisted metal.
Team Reaper HQ
El Paso
Texas
Every news channel in El Paso was broadcasting the prison break on a constant loop. Pictures of fires and bodies lying in the yard flashed up on the screen with ticker headlines rolling across the bottom.
So far, reports revealed that at least twenty-five people had died in the escape, with an additional thirty wounded. But that number was expected to rise. As yet there were no reports identifying the three escapees.
The whole of Team Reaper sat back watching the large screen. They had set up in a large warehouse in an industrial district on the outskirts of town. Now they were waiting for Ferrero and General Thurston to brief them before their flight to Ecuador.
“We still have no information on the identities of the escapees, however, it seems to have been a well-organized and -executed escape plan.”
“Do we have any idea of the origin of the helicopters?”
“Not yet, Lance. All we can say for sure is that they were military.”
Kane hit mute on the television again.
“Fuckers were well-organized all right,” Axe grated. “It would take military precision to pull something like that off. Look at those pictures.”
Grainy security camera footage flashed up on the screen. It showed men setting up a perimeter around the helicopter, and another team of shooters heading towards the secure internal facility.
“They set up a perimeter and shot anybody who came within their security zone. They’re decked out in full tactical gear, and they’re not shooting wildly like some half-assed cowboys. They’re making sure of their shots. Damned shame we can’t see their faces. Pictures are shit.”
Cara stared at the pictures. Another feed showed two guards getting shot. She said, “That one just shot those guards.”
“They were escorting them,” Kane said. “They were in on it.”
“How do you know that?” Reynolds asked.
“Why else would they be taking them outside in the middle of a shit storm like that?”
“Did you see that?” Teller asked.
“What?” said Cara.
“That big feller they’re taking with them. He’s an add-on. He blocked their way, and instead of shooting him, they took him with them.”
“What does that mean?” Swift asked.
Cara said, “It means he knew them.”
“Then why not just shoot him?”
“Maybe he was a good friend,” Axe proposed.
“Must’ve been,” Traynor said. “That feller out front just shot a prisoner who did the same thing.”
The door to the warehouse opened with a loud bang, and almost every one of those present dropped their hands to their sidearms instinctively. Ferrero and Thurston walked into the cavernous space, closely followed by Spencer.
“What the fuck is he doing here?” Axe asked none too softly.
“I guess we’ll find out,” Kane said.
“I see you’re all watching the news about the breakout from Chesapeake Bay Supermax,” Thurston said.
Kane stared at her. Gone was the perfectly-pressed uniform. Her casual attire included a green T-shirt and jeans, which did not detract from the air of authority about her.
“Like what you see, Sergeant?” she asked Kane.
Suddenly uncomfortable, he saw the flicker in her eyes. “Just looking, ma’am.”
“Just because I’m military doesn’t mean I have to look it, Reaper,” she told him.
“Do they know what went on with the escape, ma’am?” Cara asked.
Thurston glanced at Ferrero. He cleared his throat and said, “We can do better than that. We now know who it was that escaped.”
“Who?” asked Traynor.
“Montoya and O’Brien.”
“Well, fuck me,” Axe said, the awe obvious in his voice.
“My thoughts exactly, Burton,” Thurston agreed. “The third man was an ex-ranger named Hall.”
“Kane!” Cara’s alarm was evident.
“Easy, Cara, we don’t know.”
“Don’t know what?” Thurston asked.
Kane said, “We have family up in Maine. We figure that O’Brien won’t stop until he finds them.”
Thurston nodded. “I read that in your file. Luis and I talked, and we agreed that we should send a couple of you up there until this mess can be cleaned up.”
Kane and Cara stood up. Ferrero stepped forward. “But, not you two. You are going on this mission. That’s where you’re needed.”
“The hell I am,” Kane snapped.
“Me neither,” agreed Cara. “That’s my son up there.”
“I will go,” a voice said.
They all turned to look at Arenas. He shrugged. “They will both be safe with me. I will guard them with my life, amigo.”
“I’ll go too,” Pete Traynor put in. “Ferrero is right, Reaper. The team needs you running point on missions.”
“Which is why Spencer is back,” Thurston told them. “He’ll take the place of Arenas in the field.”
“Who gives the orders?” asked Kane.
“You do.”
Kane turned his gaze upon Spencer. “You good with that.”
He nodded. “I’m fine.”
“Cara?”
Kane could see the internal conflict in her eyes. She looked at Arenas. “Can you protect my son, Carlos?”
He gave her a reassuring smile. “Like he was one of my own, querido.”
She glanced at Kane and nodded.
“All right,” said Kane, “we’ll do it your way.”
Ferrero said, “Pete, you and Carlos leave now. There’ll be a plane waiting for you at the airport.”
Cara stopped them as they started to turn away. “Take all you need from the armory.”
“Don’t worry, Cara,” said Traynor. “They’ll both be fine.”
Once they were gone, Thurston said to the team, “Right, let's get about this mission.”
Kane held up his hand. “Before we do, General, have you read the report about what went down on our last prisoner transfer?”
Thurton nodded. “I did.”
“So you also know that we had some trouble with American mercenaries?”
“Yes. And before you ask, the one you killed, I knew of him. He was a ranger, as you already know.”
“What about Collins? You know him too?”
Thurston nodded. “I did. Quite a capable officer.”
“Capable enough to pull something like that prison break off?”
“Are you trying to connect the two, Kane?” Thurston asked. “It’s a bit of a stretch.”
“OK. But don’t it seem f
unny to you that after what happened down there, that a bunch of military guys then break Montoya out of prison?”
“How do you know they’re military?”
“Have you seen the damned footage?” Axe snapped.
Thurston glared at him.
“Ma’am,” he added.
“I have.”
“Then you tell us why they wouldn’t be,” Kane said. “We’ve all seen it. They formed a perimeter around the helo. Used controlled fire to hold the prisoners back, and didn’t waste one shot.”
“I agree. But it doesn’t mean that Collins was involved in it.”
“If it does,” Cara pointed out, “shit just got real because he won’t stop until he gets us all.”
“I think he’ll scurry off back to Mexico for a while and lay low. If he does, then that’ll give us time to prepare.”
“Prepare for what?” Teller asked.
“To find out where he is and go after him. Until then, we have a mission to complete.”
Ferrero stepped forward, and another big screen came to life with a picture of a cargo ship tied up at a dock. It was black and white, but the words on its stern were clearly visible. Sea Fortune.
“This is your target,” he said. “The Sea Fortune. At this point in time, it is tied up in Esmeraldas Ecuador. It looks like any other Panamanian-flagged freighter on the exterior. But below her main deck is a secret cargo hold which is used to store containers full of weapons and drugs. We have intel that there are three in there as we speak.”
“Is the intel good?” Cara asked.
“Both Mary and I have been assured that the intel is good, yes.”
“Who the fuck is Mary?” Axe growled. Then he realized. “Oh, shit. Sorry, General. I forgot.”
She frowned at him, then said, “Continue, Luis.”
“As you know, we want you to slip on board, confirm that everything is there, and find a place to lay up until she sails.”
“When might that be?” asked Kane.
“In three nights. Once it is in international waters, you are to seize it and bring it within range of Artoro.”
“What if there’s nothing there?” asked Kane.
“Then we abort.”
“Where will you be?” Cara asked him.
“We’ll be holed up in a CIA safehouse. We will direct everything from there. Once you’re at sea, we’ll be flown out to the Artoro to wait.”
“What about support?” Axe asked.
Thurston shook her head. “You’re it until you get into international waters. After you leave the safehouse, you’re on your own. They don’t really like us down there, so it has to be as covert as possible.”
“Rules of engagement?” Kane asked.
Thurston’s face set like granite. “If you have to fight, Sergeant, fight like hell.”
Appalachia Mountains
West Virginia
Double gates were opened by armed guards, admitting the six black SUVs which drove through in a screen of dust. The sun had set three hours prior to their arrival.
Pulling onto a large turn-around, the vehicles crunched gravel beneath their tires, and their headlights washed over the white façade of a large building before coming to a halt. The doors swung open, and the first ones out were Collins’ mercenaries. Setting up a perimeter around the SUVs, they waited for all of those within to alight.
From the front of the building, there was movement when four men emerged from a doorway. They stopped directly beneath an exterior light that was swarming with insects. Three men were armed with a variety of semi-automatic weapons, from a Colt M4, an HK 416, and the third had an AK-47. All three had bushy beards and were clothed in camo gear. The fourth man was obviously their leader.
He was a middle-aged man with graying hair and a thickening waistline. He was clean shaven and carried an air of authority about him. He too wore camo pants, but a T-shirt was his upper body attire, over which he wore a shoulder holster that carried an H&K USP.
Collins approached him, and they shook hands. “Good to see you, Colonel.”
“You too, Ward. Come on in. My men will get you squared away.”
“Yes, sir.”
Collins issued orders to his men who started to move. All except Hall. “What you want me to do, Captain?”
“Go with the others.”
“Yes, sir.”
Collins, Montoya, and O’Brien followed the man inside. They were led into a room filled with the aroma of cigar smoke. It was lavishly furnished with wood-paneling, leather furniture, and a large timber desk with a polished top. On the wall was a large map of the Appalachia Mountains. Dotted on it were small flag pins.
The man sat behind his desk and asked, “Would you care for a drink, gentlemen?”
Montoya stared at him and said, “Who are you?”
“My thoughts exactly,” agreed O’Brien.
The man took the SIG from its holster and laid it on the desktop. His gaze settled upon each man in turn and said, “Gentlemen, my name is Colonel Luke Webster. When Captain Collins came to me and asked for my help, I didn’t hesitate to say yes. Don’t make me regret that decision.”
Montoya shrugged. “It was just a simple question.”
Webster nodded. “Here’s another simple question. When are you people going to be leaving?”
Collins said, “I’ll be leaving with Mr. Montoya tomorrow.”
“I wish you luck with that. The stunt you pulled today stirred up a damned hornet’s nest. They'll have the border shut down tighter than a fish’s ass.”
“We’ve got it covered.”
Webster stared at the Irishman. “What about you?”
“Maybe we could come to some beneficial arrangement,” O’Brien suggested.
“How so?”
“If I’m not mistaken, this is some kind of militia outpost or some shite like that?”
The colonel’s face remained passive. “We are the United Patriot Front of America. That is who we are.”
“Well then, how about I donate to your cause? Say, ten million dollars.”
Webster’s gaze grew as hard. “You have my attention, Mr. O’Brien. But you’d better not be shitting me, or I’ll pick up my gun and shoot you in the fucking head. Now, what is it that you want from me?”
“Men.”
“Men?”
“I have a job that I want done before I end up back in prison or dead.”
“And it is worth ten million to you?”
“It is.”
“Then I guess we can come to some arrangement.”
“That’s what I like to hear.”
“When do you want it done?”
“Yesterday.”
“Impatient?”
“Fucking oath I am.”
Collins cleared his throat. “If it is all the same with you, Colonel, I’ve got some things to sort out before we leave in the morning.”
“Fine. When you’re ready, sing out, and I’ll have someone show you to your rooms.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Meanwhile, it seems that Mr. O’Brien and I have some business to discuss.”
Once they were outside and on their own, Montoya said to Collins, “Is everything ready?”
“Yes. We have the UAV hidden away, ready to use when needed.”
“What about the pilot?”
“He is under surveillance.”
“And you will have him when required?”
“Yes.”
“I will need to send Gallo a big thank you for all of his help.”
“Gallo is dead. Sandoval is in charge now.”
Concern settled on Montoya’s face. “Tell me what happened.”
When Collins was finished, the cartel boss said, “That is too bad.”
Collins shrugged. “It is what it is.”
“What about the other parts of the plan?”
“There is another team still in Mexico. But the one we have here will split up and take care of other matters u
ntil we return.”
“Your new man, can we trust him?”
“Hall? Yes.”
“Good. Once the plan is executed, the American government will finally realize that Juan Jesus Montoya is not a forgiving man.”
Chapter 5
Biggs Airfield
Outside of El Paso
The black SUV came to a halt inside the HC-130 aircraft, and Brooke Reynolds climbed down from the driver’s seat. She slammed the door and tossed the keys to Ferrero.
“Fully-armored and drives like a dream,” she commented.
Towards the front of the aircraft, Kane and Cara ran through a checklist of equipment. They had suppressed HK 416s, two M110 semi-automatic sniper systems, HK MP7s, flashbangs, a box of M67 fragmentation grenades, tactical vests, boxes of ammunition, plus night vision and comms gear. Not to mention the gear for the electronics geeks. Every one of them wore their own personal sidearms in holsters strapped to their thighs. After all, it was the wild west they’d be flying into.
Ferrero asked, “What’s the score, Reaper?”
“Seems like everything is there,” he said.
“Good.”
“Any news from Carlos and Pete?” Cara asked.
Ferrero shook his head. “They won’t arrive until later today.”
Thurston appeared and started to climb the ramp. Instead of jeans, this time she was dressed in camo pants and a green T-shirt, with a holster strapped to her right thigh; in it, an M17.
“Wheels up in twenty minutes, people,” Thurston said in a loud voice.
Kane turned to Thurston and said, “Ma’am?”
Thurston halted. “What is it, Mr. Kane?”
“Are we sure that the CIA will have a truck with enough room, at the other end?”
“That’s what they told me,” Thurston confirmed. “If they don’t I’ll kick someone’s ass.”
The plane was flying into an airstrip twenty miles outside of Esmeraldas. The CIA used it when required. It would be their people meeting the team and ferrying them and their equipment to the safehouse.
“I was thinking, ma’am, that once we land, Cara and I might take a drive to the port. Do some up-close recon.”
