Black Operations- the Spec-Ops Action Pack

by Eric Meyer

  “I’m going in,” Nolan said quietly.

  “Going in where?” Talley asked.

  “Salazar’s escape route. He has a helo waiting in a jungle clearing, and if we don’t get to him fast, he’ll get away.”

  “Salazar? I thought you said you’d seen him making his escape into the jungle opposite the ranch?” He stared at Roscoe. The black man looked embarrassed. “Damn, Boss, several of us saw him, and we were sure it was him. I doubt Salazar is in here.”

  Talley looked at Nolan. “Well?”

  “It was Salazar. He was here only minutes ago.”

  He nodded. “Maybe Bremmer was mistaken. You’d better go get him. Take Will with you, and call if you come across him. Don’t forget the AC-130 is still overhead.”

  “Boss, Salazar had sewn this place with charges. It’s likely to go up at any time, so you need to get everyone out of here. If he’s pressed the remote detonator, the countdown has already started.”

  Talley didn’t stop to question him. He barked orders at the men who’d come into the room.

  “Get everyone out of here, and check every room. The building is rigged to blow!”

  They didn’t wait to acknowledge, the seconds were ticking by. Nolan squeezed through the narrow gap and into a tunnel that was surprisingly well constructed. The walls were lined with smooth cement, and lights were set into armored bulkhead fittings in the roof, which was high enough to allow them to walk upright. The tunnel ran straight for the first hundred yards and then twisted at a right angle. Water seeped onto the floor that was an inch deep.

  Another sharp bend appeared after three hundred yards, and the tunnel ran as straight as a die. Ahead of them, perhaps another five hundred yards away, they could see the bright light of day streaming into the tunnel; the entrance that someone had left open. They ran on until they stood at the foot of a long ladder propped against the wall. Nolan went up first and poked his head cautiously out of the hatch. There was a thunderous noise, and his automatic reflexes made him duck back down. But it wasn’t someone shooting at him. In front of him was a Bell 427 Twin Turboshaft helo. The noise had been the engines starting with a roar. He looked back out and could see Manuel Rivera reaching down to help pull Salazar into the fuselage.

  He didn’t hesitate. His M4-A1 had a full clip, but this was a shot that required accuracy, not wild, automatic fire. With his feet on the ladder, and his good elbow on the ground outside the hatch, he sighted carefully plum center on Salazar’s body. Even so, it was a difficult shot. Salazar was moving as Rivera pulled him upwards in to the cabin. The first bullet took him in the lower body, and the man twisted in pain as the hot metal hammered into him. Rivera looked across the clearing, saw Nolan, and turned to shout something to the pilot. Nolan fired again, and again. Both times he saw Salazar’s body jump as the bullets hit him. The helo started to ascend, and he fired a fourth bullet; this one aimed at Rivera. The security chief flinched as the bullet hit his boss. He’d been pulling him upwards, and Salazar’s body shielded him so that the drug lord took the hit intended for him. He looked down quickly at his boss and decided he’d done enough. He let go, and the body of Victor Salazar dropped back to the ground as the helo soared into the air. The Chief ran over to it and knelt down to check for any signs of life, but the Colombian was dead. Will Bryce ran up beside him.

  “Is that it?”

  “Yeah, that’s it. I don’t know about his brothers, but they won’t be hard to kill, they weren’t Victor Salazar.”

  “They’re both dead.” Will explained how the two had led the defense of the ranch compound. “They both went down fighting. At least at the end they were men, not running out like this one.”

  It’s over. My family will be safe, and the Salazars have been destroyed.

  “That’s the best news I’ve heard in a long time, Will. Let’s go back through the tunnel and see how things are in the compound.”

  Will shook his head. “No way I want to go back underground. That tunnel looked mighty near to collapse, and the spring was leaking through the walls something bad.”

  Nolan smiled and agreed to walk back. It would be an opportunity to check out the extent of the damage to the compound. When the Seals left, there would be nothing but a smoking pile of rubble in this patch of Colombia. They walked along a narrow jungle pathway for a couple of hundred yards, and then the trees gave way to the huge, open area hacked out for the Salazar ranch. Smoke hung in the air from the gunfire and explosions, and when they walked through the gate, the devastation was obvious. Everything had been damaged, either completely or in part. Only the White House still stood, but they’d evacuated, waiting for Salazar’s own demolition charges to explode. Casualties lay everywhere, and Castro’s men were going around administering to them as best they could. Nolan hunted for Gracia. He finally found Jacks running past and grabbed his arm to stop him.

  “Admiral, Gracia. Where is she?”

  The older man stopped and darted a glance to where a pair of medics administering morphine to some of the worst of the casualties. Nolan followed his look.

  “What’s going on? She can’t be that bad. When I left her, she’d only taken a non-fatal hit.”

  “You’re right, the wound wasn’t fatal, but those grenades Rivera tossed down the stairwell did the damage. The shrapnel bounced around the Situation Room, and the walls are all concrete. She took a fragment of metal in the side of the head.”

  “So she’s…”

  Jacks nodded. “I’m sorry. She was killed instantly.”

  Rivera! He nearly blacked out. He saw Gracia’s beautiful face, the face that reminded him so much of Grace. Both dead, both killed by drug traffickers. A red mist obscured his vision, and he had to prop himself with his assault rifle as his knees buckled. His emotions were a tortuous turmoil of hate and despair, of grief, and loss, and anger.

  Rivera!

  “He’s getting away, Admiral. Rivera! We need to contact the AC-130 and make sure they shoot him down.

  “It’s already been done, Chief. The helo disappeared in the ground clutter around Medellin. Even if they’d located it, they couldn’t open fire above a civilian area.”

  Talley came up to them. “I’m sorry about Gracia, Chief. She sure was something.”

  “Yeah, thanks, Boss. Listen, Rivera got away.”

  “I know that. They tried to shoot down his helo, but his pilot was either too clever or too lucky.”

  “You don’t understand. He’ll want revenge, and that means he’ll target my family, my kids. Now that he’s escaped, he’ll make it his number one priority to kill them, in return for us busting Salazar’s operation.”

  “Where are they now? Are they safe?”

  “They’re with their grandparents. No, they’re not safe, not now Manual Rivera is after them.”

  “You need to contact the local cops, and get them to increase protection on them. Do you know anyone who can make things happen?”

  He thought about Carol Summers. The detective was in San Diego, and the kids were outside San Francisco. But she knew the system, and knew him and his family. He nodded.

  “Yes, I do, the detective in San Diego PD.”

  “Okay, I’ll get a patch through to them, and you can speak to her personally. Anything you want, I’ll get NCIS onto it.”

  It took a few minutes, but soon he recognized Carol Summers’ familiar voice.

  “Carol, this is Kyle. We’re out of the country on a mission.”

  Talley was standing within earshot, so he had to be careful. Her voice sounded puzzled and slightly cool.

  “Is everything okay? Are you hurt?”

  “I’m fine, yeah. It’s the kids. One of the kingpins has escaped, and he may try to take revenge on the kids.”

  “Shouldn’t you ask SFPD to handle it?”

  “I’m asking you, Carol. Dammit, you know how these things go. They need to hear it from one of their own, not me. I’m just a member of the public.”

  She
was quiet for a few moments. Then he heard her say, “I’ll get right onto it, Kyle. Are they still in the same house, with the grandparents?”

  “Yeah, that’s right, same place.”

  “Leave it with me. I’ll talk to someone up there, and see if we can get them to increase surveillance.”

  “Christ, they’re in danger, Carol. See what you can do won’t cut it!” he shouted at her.

  He felt himself going dizzy with anxiety. It was good just talking to Carol Summers, even though he was certain she couldn’t fully understand the severity of the threat. There was so much he wanted to say to her, and so much agony he wanted to share with someone. Except that maybe he was wrong about her, about her caring. The red mist started to creep in front of his eyes, and he found himself struck dumb, unable to speak. Finally, her voice penetrated the thick mist. She sounded cold.

  “Is anything wrong, Kyle? Are you sure you’re okay? I said I’d do my best.”

  “No, it’s, I dunno.”

  He thrust the commo handset at Talley and walked quickly away. Sure, he was trained for everything, to fight, to kill, to survive for long periods in extreme terrain. But how could they train you for grief? She’d been a fine girl, Gracia, with a whole lifetime in front of her.

  Just like Grace.

  And she’d met a similar end. Were they doomed, these women he came into contact with, doomed to be shot down like dogs by these narco-scum? And was he doomed to live his life always checking the shadows in case there was someone waiting to get in a lucky shot at his kids. It only took one round each, two bullets, and his family would be lost forever to him. They couldn’t train you for that. It was a burden you had to bear.

  But Christ, it’s hard, so hard.

  He felt his eyes begin to moisten. It was ludicrous, a tough, hard-bitten Chief Petty Officer of the US Navy Seals, almost crying while on a mission in enemy territory. Except that he was human. And he was alive. Yes, as long as he lived, he’d finish Salazar’s chief murderer, Manuel Rivera. He’d find him. No matter where on the earth he tried to hide, he’d find him. And he’d kill him. Abruptly, he felt better. He was no longer the hunted. He was the hunter. And he was hungry for blood.

  “Chief, are you okay?”

  Talley had come up behind him. He turned and saw the Lieutenant almost flinch when he saw the expression in his eyes.

  “I’m okay. Let’s get this mission squared away and go home. I’ve got some things to take care of.”

  Chapter Twelve

  His mind must have wandered elsewhere, as one moment he’d avoided continuing the conversation with Carol Summers, the next he heard the roar of rotor blades approaching from the north.

  “Chief? How’s the arm?”

  He looked up at Vince Merano, the other unit sniper.

  “Yeah, the medic put it in a temporary splint. Where’re we at?”

  Vince looked at him with a puzzled expression. “For the last fifteen minutes, we’ve been preparing for exfiltration, Chief. The Blackhawks are coming in now, and they’re taking us off, together with Castro’s wounded. The Colombian Air Force is on the way to collect the rest of them, and they’ve got a whole heap of regular army shipping in on a convoy of trucks to secure the area. For some reason, they don’t trust the local law to take care of this mess.”

  “I wonder why not.”

  Vince gave him his old, familiar smile. “We’re going home. I gather you’re worried about Rivera.”

  “I am, but not as much as Rivera should be worried about me.”

  “So you’re gonna take him down?”

  Nolan nodded. “This mission was always personal, Vince. It wasn’t just about denting the Colombian drugs trade. The Salazars declared war on my family, some complicated macho Colombian thing. The last of them is Rivera, and he’s the only one who matters. Until he dies, Daniel and Mary will always be in danger. I owe it to them to see this through, and that means Rivera goes down.”

  Vince nodded. “You know we’re always around. You want anything, and we’ll come a-running.”

  “Yeah, thanks. But something tells me this is going to go to the wire. It’ll be man to man. It’ll be either me or him.”

  * * *

  Nolan watched the landscape of Colombia fall away as the Blackhawk gained height and headed at maximum knots for the USS Ronald Reagan, the Nimitz class nuclear-powered aircraft carrier that would carry them part way home. He felt flat, and a taste in his mouth that was metallic. Maybe he was getting too old for this type of work; the sudden violence and death they brought to this kind of a mission, and then a helo to take them out for the journey home, ready for the next one.

  Perhaps I’m just tired. I’ll be fine after some rest. And after I’ve killed Rivera.

  It was the last thought before he blacked out.

  He awoke in a bed in the carrier’s well-equipped hospital. A nurse was changing the dressing on his arm. Sadly, the rating was a young man with a pimply face, stiff, carroty hair, and a bad case of halitosis.

  “How are you feeling, Chief?” the man asked him as he finished the dressing. At least he was good at his job. The dressing was neat and comfortable, although his arm throbbed.

  “I’m okay, yeah, thanks. What happened to my arm?”

  “The surgeon reset the bones. He says you’ll be out of commission for a few weeks, but if you’re careful, the arm will recover as good as new. He’ll be here to talk to you later.”

  Nolan nodded his thanks. “We’re headed for San Diego?”

  “That we are, Chief, ETA tomorrow at midday. I can’t wait to get shore leave and get back to see my kids.”

  He didn’t look old enough to have a family. “How many do you have, Seaman?”

  “Two, Chief, a boy and a girl.”

  He took out his wallet and showed Nolan a photo of two children. Both had stiff, carroty hair, and Nolan had to work hard to suppress a smile. “They’re great, nice looking kids.”

  “Yep, I think so too. You got any kids?”

  “Boy and a girl, they’re older than yours.”

  “I’ll bet you can’t wait to get back to them, either.”

  “That’s right.”

  The nurse sensed that the conversation had made his patient uncomfortable, and he finished off filling in a chart, and left the tiny ward. Which left Nolan able to think ahead and plan how to deal with his next problem. Rivera. Of all of Salazar’s people, Rivera was without doubt the most formidable. He’d have to use every ounce of his strength and resources to take the man down before he could attack Daniel and Mary. He could feel the numbness in his arm, tried to move it, and felt a sharp pain lance through his body. He let out just a tiny cry of pain, but the surgeon chose that moment to walk in.

  “You shouldn’t be trying to use that arm. It’s only just been set. Are you trying to undo all of my good work?”

  The carrier’s surgeon was a full commander, and with a strong, confident manner on his pudgy face, the result of too much good food in the carrier’s mess and too little exercise.

  “Sorry, Sir. Thanks for patching me up. There’s no pain, so I reckon it’ll soon be time to remove the dressings,” Nolan lied.

  “Do you, indeed? You must be using some miracle drug that makes bones heal in hours rather than weeks and months,” the surgeon smiled. “You need at least a month in those splints, otherwise you’ll never get back the use of your arm. A full recovery will take you three months, so you’d better get used to the idea.”

  “I can’t.”

  Nolan told him the whole story about his kids, about Manual Rivera, and about the threat to their lives.

  “Surely you can’t be the only person in the world who can protect them? Can’t the cops help out?”

  “They’re doing their best, and there’s one in particular, Carol Summers, an SDPD detective who’s trying real hard, but they don’t know what they’re up against.”

  “She any good, this Detective Summers?”

  Nolan told him
about her, and the efforts she’d made to help him. Then he told him about Grace and the kids; he told him everything. Even about Manuel Rivera coming after his family to pursue his vendetta. Afterwards, he was surprised, and he could only think it was the morphine that loosened his tongue. The surgeon was a good listener; a doctor who’d acquired an expert bedside manner, during his long years repairing broken sailors in one of the largest ships afloat. When his patient finally ran out of words, he didn’t speak for a few moments, just mulled over what he’d been told. Finally, he nodded.

  “She sounds like quite a girl, the detective.”

  “She is, yes.”

  “And you like her a lot.”

  Nolan had to think about that, and he realized that yes, he did like her a lot. But after that last outburst, when he’d all but accused her of not caring enough, she wouldn’t be so keen to talk to him. Not when all the gratitude she got for her efforts, was him shouting at her. He explained it all to the surgeon.

  Damn, why am I saying these things?

  Normally, he didn’t trust anyone with his personal thoughts and affairs.

  “Yes, I believe I do,” he replied, after a few moments thought. It was another surprise that he’d admitted it, but it was true. Yes, he did like her a lot. He had a twinge of guilt about Gracia, but realized it was something else, in another life. He’d met the fiery young Colombian. She was wonderful, and now she was dead. He was alive, and he had to move on, for the kid’s sake, and perhaps for Grace too. She wouldn’t want him to dwell on the dead, but on the living; the people the kids would need if they were to grow up with any kind of a normal life.

  “But I doubt she’ll be interested in me, not after I chewed her out about not doing enough to protect my family.”