Deadly Intent

by Brent Towns

  He reached up with a bloody hand and switched his comms to VOX. “Eagle One to Eagle Base, do you copy? Over.”

  “Copy, Eagle One. Report.”

  “The ambassador is wounded. I say again, the ambassador is wounded and in a bad way. I need medivac ASAP, over.”

  “We’ll see what we can do, Brick. How bad is she?”

  Close to him, he heard Brett groan. “Are you still in this fight, buddy?”

  “Yeah, I think so.”

  “Make it happen.”

  “Brick, are you there?”

  “The ambassador has a throat wound and is bleeding out. I have my fingers in it at the moment trying to keep her alive. Is that bad enough?”

  “Hang in there, Brick. Help is a minute out.”

  The security team leader realized they had taken cover in a stairwell. The thunder of footsteps on the stairs gave that much away. He looked up to his right and saw a dancing shadow on the wall as a figure descended.

  “What the fuck now?” he growled, changing hands on the wound in Karen’s throat. He reached down with his right hand and freed the SIG M18 from the thigh holster. His hand was slick with blood, and he almost lost his grip on the weapon as he brought it up.

  A cartel soldier holding an AK-47 appeared on the stairs. He started to bring it to the firing position when the M18 in Brick’s fist spat three bullets at him. The Mexican jerked and dropped onto the steps. He slid down them until he reached the bottom and remained still.

  Brick glanced down at Karen and saw that her eyes were closed. Her face was a pasty gray. His heart beat a little faster. “Ma’am, can you hear me?”

  Nothing.

  “Karen?” Louder this time.

  Her eyes flickered open. He smiled reassuringly at her. “You’ll be fine, ma’am. Help is almost here.”

  By way of recognition, she blinked her eyes and then closed them again. Brick’s eyes drifted to her chest. It still rose, and fell but her breathing was shallow. “Brett, how are we looking?”

  “Firing dropping off, Brick. I reckon they’ve caught sight of the DSS reinforcements.”

  Then the gunfire stopped. Just like that.

  Brick heard SUVs pull up at the mouth of the alley. Then he heard shouts between men as they disembarked and organized themselves. He looked back down at Karen. He said in a soft voice, “You’ll be OK, ma’am. The cavalry has finally arrived.”

  Chapter 14

  El Paso

  Texas

  The team was in a somber mood. It had been two days since they’d returned from Mexico and there was still no news about what had happened to Kane and Spencer. Most were now congregated in their large rec-room, watching developments unfold on the television as reports of the United States Ambassador to Mexico’s ambush broke over all the news channels.

  Scenes cut from a burnt out SUV to a helicopter evacuating the critically-wounded Karen Day across the border to a medical facility where it was hoped that she could get the life-saving surgery she required.

  Reports said that four of her security team had been killed in the firefight, along with an unknown number of Mexican law enforcement officials. A picture of a man with a shaved head flashed up on the screen. The name beneath the picture said Richard “Brick” Peters. It said that he was an ex-Navy SEAL and leader of the ambassador’s security team.

  “This is fucked up,” Axe commented. “You know what’s going to happen next? They’ll blame the security team for everything that happened out there.”

  Reynolds turned in her chair to stare at him. “Why do you say that?”

  “Because that’s what happens. Instead of blaming the cartels, the fallout will come down on the one thing they can get to, the team. Don’t get me wrong, they’ll make a song and dance about the cartels, but it happened on the team’s watch.”

  “Surely not,” Reynolds said. “If it wasn’t for them she’d be dead.”

  “He’s right,” Thurston said from where she stood in the doorway to the room. “People on the hill will be out for blood, and if they can’t get it from the cartels, then the team will do. It’s like a bloodsport up there at times.”

  Reynolds shook her head. “That’s fucked.”

  “Amen,” said Axe.

  Thurston caught Ferrero’s eye and signaled for him to follow her. She disappeared as he rose from his seat. Cara watched them go. Beside her sat Jimmy who’d arrived back that afternoon along with Traynor and Arenas. The excitable kid had filled her in on everything, including being in the middle of a firefight with real Navy SEALs.

  At least they would never have to worry about O’Brien again. Just having her son there helped with the pain of uncertainty about Kane.

  Arenas had apologized for what had happened. But Cara had insisted that it wasn’t his fault. Besides, Jimmy was safe, and that was all that mattered.

  Upon learning about the occurrences during their absence, the pair had been stunned at the prospect of losing their field commander and friend.

  “Do they know who did this yet, or what?” Axe asked.

  Cara stopped stroking her son’s hair and stared at Axe. “I’ve not heard.”

  “What about Slick?”

  Traynor said, “He’s working around the clock to find something on Reaper and Spencer.”

  “I had to fucking ask,” Axe mumbled.

  Teller joined the conversation. “I reached out to a friend in the NSA to see if there was any chatter about what had happened, but they’ve heard nothing.”

  “And the DEA are trying to clean up the mess with their safehouse,” Traynor said.

  “And the warehouse was burned down, so the Mexican authorities have only DNA to go by to identify the bodies which were found inside,” Arenas told them. “Knowing them, it will take weeks.”

  “So, in the meantime, we sit here with our thumbs up our asses and do nothing,” Axe growled. “I hate this shit. But what I hate more is that we have no idea who is fucking responsible.”

  Ferrero found Thurston in her office. She sat behind her desk, and the flatscreen t.v on her wall was frozen on a picture of Brick Peters. The former DEA man studied it and asked, “What’s going on?”

  “We need to make a decision about the team,” she told him.

  He nodded. “I know. You’re in charge. What do you want?”

  “It needs to be a joint decision, Luis,” she told him. “I may be in charge, but you put the team together. It needs to work.”

  “I agree, but we don’t even know whether Reaper is dead yet.”

  “Let’s assume he is.”

  Ferrero sighed and sat down in a chair opposite her. “Then we make Cara team leader. They all respect her, plus she has leadership experience.”

  “And her deputy?”

  “Carlos. Special forces training and again, leadership experience.”

  “We’ll do that then.”

  There was a brief silence before Ferrero said, “That leaves a hole in the team. I gather our friend on the screen is there for a reason?”

  Thurston stood up and walked around the desk. She stopped in front of the television and stared straight ahead. “Brick Peters would be a good fit.”

  “How do you propose to get him here?”

  “I made a couple of calls, and he’s flying to Washington to be debriefed. I’m heading there tomorrow to meet with Hank Jones. I want to see if I can nail down some air assets for us. Black Hawks, an HC-130, plus our own drones and such. Something we have on hand full-time. Not relying on other branches to play taxi.”

  Ferrero was impressed. “That would be great, Mary. Lord knows we could use them.”

  “While I’m there, I’ll set up a meeting with Peters, test the waters. The man is an ex-Navy SEAL Plus he was a combat medic. Something the team could use on missions.”

  “Granted. What do I tell the team?”

  “Nothing until I get it all worked out.”

  A knock sounded at the door, and Swift appeared. He closed the door b
ehind him, and both Thurston and Ferrero couldn’t help but see a hint of excitement on his face. “Sorry for the intrusion, ma’am, but I think I might have something.”

  Swift had their attention and continued. With a couple of swipes on the tablet in his hands, the flatscreen changed to show a dark satellite image with what appeared to be figures on it.

  “What are we looking at?” Thurston asked.

  “This is from the other night at the warehouse.”

  “Where did you get it?”

  “I’d rather not say.”

  Thurston stared at him and then said, “OK. Talk to us.”

  Swift walked closer to the screen and used the index finger on his right hand as a pointer. “These here are the bad guys. You can make out the flashes from their guns.”

  He touched the screen on the tablet, and the satellite image started to play. “Just about now … there it is.”

  A big flash lit the screen up and then died away. “That was the explosion which we thought might have killed Reaper and Spencer. But, if you keep watching, you’ll see this.”

  Again the video paused, and Swift pointed at a group of figures who looked to be walking towards a vehicle. “You see this group of people here? Look closely at them and see if you see what I do. Make sure that I’m not making it up.”

  Both Thurston and Ferrero moved in to take a closer look. There was silence for a good two minutes before Ferrero said, “These two here. They’re being escorted by these two.”

  Swift smiled with relief. “That was my thinking too.”

  Thurston asked, “Do you think they could be our guys?”

  “It’s quite probable, ma’am,” Swift said.

  After a brief silence, Thurston said. “Good work, Slick. However, keep this to yourself. I want to be sure before we say anything. See if you can track them and whoever is in those vehicles. And before you say it, I know it’s going to be virtually impossible, but try.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Is there any news on the other front?”

  “You mean Montoya, ma’am?”

  “Yes.”

  Swift shook his head. “No, he’s disappeared.”

  “Well, it was mercs who broke him out of prison, so we can assume that it was the same ones who attacked us at the safehouse. I’m guessing that they were the ones at the warehouse too. If they are, then it is a fair bet that Montoya is involved in it up to his eyeballs. Find the mercs, and maybe we find the Mexican motherfucker too.”

  “I’m on it, General.”

  “On your way out, tell Cara and Carlos we want to see them.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  A few minutes later, Cara and Arenas entered the office. “You wanted us, ma’am?” Cara asked.

  “Yes. You’re the new commander of Reaper Team. Carlos is your second.”

  “But that’s Reaper’s job, ma’am.”

  Thurston’s voice hardened. “Until we know one way or the other what has happened to him, you’re it. Understand?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Are you good with that, Carlos?”

  “Sí.”

  “OK. The team will stand down for a few days to rest and recuperate. I don’t care what you do as long as you leave your cells on. I want you to be contactable at all times.”

  “Yes, General.”

  “That is all.”

  They left, and Thurston turned to Ferrero. “You too, Luis.”

  Texas Rose Motel

  El Paso

  Reynolds’ fingernails raked deep furrows in Axe’s back as she sat astride him, grinding hard. Axe’s face was buried between her milky-white breasts, muffling his moans. Both were coated in a sweaty sheen. The night was hot, and the ceiling fan did nothing to cool it down. Finally, Reynolds arched her back with the release that shook her lithe form. An incoherent, “Christ!” escaped Axe’s lips as he achieved his own.

  They rolled apart and lay there staring at the stained ceiling, listening to the sound of their breathing. It was Reynolds who broke the silence. “Do you think they’re still alive?”

  Axe took a while to answer, not wanting to admit what he was thinking. “No. If he was, we’d know by now.”

  “How long have you known him?”

  “Reaper? Eight, nine years. I first met him when I filled a hole on his team in Africa. Hammer had been wounded on a previous op.”

  “Who’s Hammer?”

  “He was Reaper’s best friend in the whole world,” Axe explained. “He’s gone now. Hell, they’re all gone.”

  “I’ve heard the name,” Reynolds said.

  “Uh huh. He was killed when all of this shit started with O’Brien.”

  “Oh.”

  “Anyway, we were in the DRC chasing some really bad people. At first, it was meant to be all about recon. We were inserted to take a look over a new revolutionary group who were killing their own people to scare them into joining up. They were called The Men of the Congo Revolution. Original, huh? We were four days in the field when we came across this village. All of the young men had been forcibly taken from it to boost the MCR’s ranks. They killed everyone else. Old ones, women, children.”

  Reynolds said, “How awful.”

  Axe nodded. “Yeah. Anyway, Reaper just gathered us together and told us he was going after them. He said we could either stay or come with. We weren’t about to leave him out there with his ass in the wind, so we all went.”

  At the thought of it, Axe’s mouth formed a smile. “He drove us damned hard to catch up to them. We reached the border into Burundi and just kept going. I guess once we caught up to them, they knew what it was like.”

  “What was like?”

  Axe’s voice grew hollow, distant. “What it was like to have the Reaper hunting you. Death stalking your every move.”

  Reynolds shivered at the thought.

  “When we found their camp, it was early morning, and the fog on the ground was thick. There was no way I could set up an overwatch, so we just assaulted their position. Somewhere along the way, I got separated from the rest of the team. I was confronted by these three MRC types who got the drop on me. I was dead, no two ways about it. Then there was this burst of gunfire, and the guys just dropped. That’s when I saw him. The sun was just starting to cut through the mist, and he stood there all shrouded in fucking fog. That’s when I first knew that the Reaper was real.”

  Smokin’ Hot Bar and Grill

  El Paso

  Arenas was sure that the bump was deliberate. What else could it be? There was enough room to park a truck at the bar. But the smart-ass young Texan just couldn’t help himself. Arenas turned, and there he was, a shade over six feet, strong as a bull, and a shit-eating grin spread across his face. Behind him stood his friends, nudging each other, the same expression on their faces.

  “Sorry, Pancho. I didn’t see you there.”

  Arenas nodded and then turned away. He was about to pick up the tray when the big asshole did it again.

  From where they sat, Cara, Teller, and Traynor watched it all unfold. Traynor reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled fifty-dollar note. He placed it on the scarred tabletop and said, “Fifty says the guy doesn’t walk away from the bar.”

  Teller dug deep and found what he wanted. He placed it beside the first fifty and said, “I’m in.”

  Traynor stared at Cara. “What about you?”

  “I can’t believe you lost my fucking son,” she said to him.

  “We can only apologize so many times,” Traynor said. “Now, are you in or out?”

  “He’s a family man. He’ll let it ride,” she offered and threw her own note on the table.

  They had been in the bar for an hour. Just a few quiet drinks to blow off some steam.

  The bar was full of cowboys and smartasses. Bowls of beer nuts sat atop the bar, and in the corner, a t.v. screen still had rolling coverage of the attempt on Karen Day’s life. Tomorrow, Cara would fly with Jimmy and take him back t
o Maine. Then she would fly back. After that, they were going operational again. And who knew what would happen. Then there was Kane.

  Back at the bar, Arenas loosened his grip on the tray and left it where it was on the drip mat. He turned once more, and the punk said, “Sorry, I did it again.”

  He turned and smiled at his friends. Arenas said, “Would you like to try again so I can see you coming this time, amigo?”

  The punk’s face hardened. “Are you saying I’m doing it deliberately, amigo?”

  His voice was raised, and his friends moved to the edge of their seats in anticipation of what was about to happen. But they were wrong.

  Arenas shook his head. “No, no. I would not even suggest that. I think that maybe you are a little crosseyed and can’t see for shit.”

  It took a moment to register, but when it did, the punk lunged forward with a snarl. Arenas was ready for him, and as his attacker moved, he reached up and grabbed a handful of hair. He used the punk’s momentum to pull his head down hard, smashing his face into the bartop. The impact sounded loud, and those at the table, Cara, Traynor, and Teller, winced.

  The punk reared back, the bridge of his nose mashed in a spray of blood. Arenas pulled the head back savagely, and the stunned man dropped onto his back. Arenas’ right foot rose and stomped down with brutal force. The punk doubled up as the boot smashed into his guts.

  “Guess I win,” Traynor spruiked his good fortune.

  Cara and Teller both let out muffled curses before the former said, “Double or nothing we’re about to end up in a fight?”

  “What?” Traynor said, snapping his head around. The punk’s friends had already started to move. “Shit!”

  The Pentagon

  Washington D.C.

  Hank Jones was sitting behind his desk when General Mary Thurston was shown in. He stood up and said, “Mary, good to see you.”

  She returned his smile and said, “Thank you, sir. Good to see you too.”

  They both sat down, and Jones said, “Any news about your MIAs?”