by David Spell
General Perkins wandered into the busy room holding his cell phone. He made eye-contact with McCain and Clark, motioning for them to come with him. The two men followed Wallace into his office.
“Isn’t this a little late for you, boss?” Kevin asked, a twinkle in his eye.
“Hopefully, Mabel won’t make me sleep on the couch. Every night this week has been late. I wanted to let you know that I have your transportation into Mexico sorted out.”
“That takes care of our first hurdle,” Chuck nodded. “What’d you work out?”
“An old friend, someone who served with me in Vietnam, started a trucking business when he retired. They’re based in Brownsville and make frequent deliveries all over Mexico. I’ll give you his contact information and you can coordinate with him where to meet up. What’s the plan for extraction? I have a feeling that it’ll be much harder getting out of Mexico than getting in.”
“I’m working on that,” Clark answered. “I should know something tomorrow.”
The three men sat in silence for over a minute before the general spoke.
“So, we’re really doing this?”
“It looks that way,” Chuck answered, looking at the colonel.
“My source in Mexico has gotten us some really solid intel,” Kevin nodded. “We know where Damian Sanchez is and we know that Villarreal bounces between two locations. We’re pretty sure that we know where Guerra’s at, as well. This is too good an opportunity to pass up.”
“Time frame?” Perkins asked.
“I think we need to be on the road by Sunday night for the drive to Texas,” Chuck spoke up. “Depending on your trucking friend’s schedule, I’d like to set a tentative launch date for Tuesday or Wednesday. Tomorrow and Sunday, we’ll meet at your firing range to test all the weapons and run some drills. I’ll have Shaun rent a big van. He, Josh, Gabby, and Chloe will be with Kevin as our support team on this side of the border.”
“I thought young Miss Vargas was busy working on those videos we were ‘given’?” he said, using his hands to make air quotes.
“Sandra said we can have her for a couple of days,” McCain replied. “We need her Spanish. Now that Burns has the Sterling movie, we’re kind of waiting to see what the Fed boys and girls want to do. They have to proceed cautiously since he’s a member of the President’s cabinet. After what President Asher told us, though, he’ll probably be glad to cooperate in any way he can. This gives the President the opportunity to dump Sterling before the election. Plus, Stephen is available if you guys need a computer whiz while we’re gone.”
Perkins sighed. “I thought we’d just create a nice business, teaching LE and military units and making some money.”
Clark shrugged. “We can look at this as a test run for some of those missions the President wanted us to prepare for.”
When they returned to the briefing room, Josh pulled Chuck aside.
“You sure you don’t have room for one more on your team?” the former SWAT sergeant asked.
Corporal McCain had been Officer Matthews’ field training officer after his graduation from the police academy. Eventually, they had served together in the tactical unit, with Sergeant McCain in charge of an assault team. Corporal Matthews led one of the six-officer elements.
Later, after Chuck was promoted to lieutenant and Josh to sergeant, the younger man took his mentor’s position on the SWAT team. Their police department did not allow lieutenants to serve in an assault capacity and McCain left the unit, retiring soon afterwards.
“Not this one, buddy. Sorry,” McCain answered. “I need you on the support team. I wish we had a few more shooters for both sides of the border but it’s good to know you’re there.”
Chuck hesitated for a minute before speaking so only Josh could hear him.
“Let’s get back to work. If I think about this too long, I’ll realize how crazy we all are.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
RESTON, VIRGINIA, SATURDAY, 0635 hours
“You’re doing what?” Elizabeth asked, her eyes flashing as she sat up in the bed, trying to keep her voice low so she wouldn’t wake the baby. “Are you crazy? Those people are dangerous, Chuck!”
“Yeah, I know,” he sighed, not meeting his wife’s angry stare from the other side of the bed.
The big man had debated not telling her what they were doing. He didn’t work for the CIA anymore, however, and their security protocols were a thing of the past. At the same time, telling her was only going to give her something to worry about. He wasn’t going to lie to her, though. While employed at the Agency, he couldn’t talk about the missions he had been involved in. Now, he felt like he should.
“Then why are you doing this?”
McCain heard the desperation in her voice.
“Beth, they killed two of my friends. You knew Tim and Tom. They were like family! Plus, these bastards almost killed Sandra. She’ll never walk again. This is a different cartel than the one that came after us a couple of years ago, but they’re all the same. We’ve got a chance to cut the head off of this gang.
“If we don’t go after them, they may try something else. There’ve been two attempts on Sandra’s life. The Mexican police aren’t going to do anything. Hell, most of them are on the take. Our FBI has no jurisdiction in Mexico. But, a few of us can slip in and slip out, hopefully with a few of these dirtbags in custody so they can stand trial here.”
“But, what if…?” She left the question hanging.
“There is no ‘what if,’ babe. You know that every member of this team is a world-class operator. Hopefully, these scumbags in Mexico will begin to get the message that they need to stay south of the border. If we hit them hard every time they attack us, eventually they’ll realize that it’s not worth it.”
“How long will you be gone?”
“We’re figuring a week at the most.”
Beth slid over and lay up against her husband, her head resting on his chest.
“I’m sorry to put you through this,” Chuck said, softly. “If I didn’t feel that it was something that needed to be done, I’d have never agreed to it. At the same time, if we did nothing and the cartel came after us again or went after some of our friends, I don’t think I could live with myself.”
“I know,” she finally said, quietly. “When you rescued me and we fell in love, I never imagined having such a great life. After all I had been through, it was like God was giving me a second chance. I have to remember that along with the good times come the bad ones. I’ll never get used to you going off to do what you do, but I understand that you have to go. We’ll be here when you get back.”
Dulles International Airport, Saturday, 0950 hours
While on the outside Jennifer maintained her composure, on the inside she was jumping up and down. This was her first solo mission, given to her by Director Sterling himself. Yes, he was probably a prick along with several of the other descriptive nouns that she heard some of her outgoing friends use. At the same time, this was her dream job and she knew she had to stick it out through the tough times.
Growing up, her parents had instilled a love of country in Jen and her older brother. Her father was a police officer who had risen through the ranks in the Oklahoma City Police Department, now serving as a deputy chief. Her brother had joined the Air Force as soon as he graduated from high school and was now a crew chief on a C-130. It was only natural that Jennifer would want to serve her country, as well.
Growing up, Jen’s passions had been acting and martial arts. She had toyed with the idea of becoming a stunt woman in Hollywood, but her sense of duty and calling won out. The hiring process to become a CIA agent had been long and grueling but she couldn’t think of anywhere else that she’d rather be.
Hughes had already been a part of some intense missions, surprising herself with how well she had performed. Even those operations in which they had assassinated people had not bothered her. Is there something wrong with me? she had often wondered. At th
e same time, she felt an immense sense of pride when her team accomplished their mission objectives.
The young woman didn’t have a team for this op, she reminded herself. Just an Agency contractor. Her new passport showed her name to be ’Jessica Hayes.’ She was happy with the cover story that they had created. Her liaison in the Support Directorate had provided her with the passport, credit card, driver’s license, and an envelope of cash. The question would be whether or not Ethan Sharpe would be willing to play along. Hopefully, I can sweet talk him into playing his part in the scenario.
They were about to start boarding her flight. She hated traveling unarmed but that was the nature of flying commercial to an international destination. She had a few surprises tucked into her checked suitcase, but no firearms.
I haven’t let Shaun know that I can’t make our date, she suddenly realized, digging out her phone. A moment later, his number was ringing.
“Hi, Jen! What a nice surprise. We still on for tonight?”
“Hey, Shaun. That’s why I’m calling. Something has come up and I was wanting to see if I could get a raincheck? I’m actually about to get on a plane.”
“Sure, Jen. No prob. You got something good going on with work?”
The young woman hesitated, knowing she couldn’t talk about it.
“Yeah, you could say that. This is my first assignment in months.”
“Good for you,” he said, knowing how much this meant to her. “I know you’ll do great. And it’s just as well that we reschedule. I’m heading out tomorrow and I’ve got a lot to do between now and then.”
“Cool. Where you heading?”
Now it was Taylor’s turn to hesitate.
“Oh, you know. Nothing special. Just a work trip.”
“I thought you were running the office and doing all the admin?”
“I am, but, well, I’m, uh, helping out on something.”
“Okay. You’ve got my curiosity up now. Sounds mysterious.”
“Mysterious?” she heard him chuckle over the phone. “What makes you think that? You’re the one about to get on a plane. You be careful, Jen, and call me when you get back.”
“Sure, Shaun. Talk to you soon.”
That was weird, she thought. He really didn’t want to talk about what he was working on. Maybe she could loosen his tongue whenever they got together. The CIA agent stood, gathered up her purse and carry-on bag and walked excitedly toward her gate.
Trenton, New Jersey, Saturday, 1320 hours
The previous week had been quiet. Musa had not received any messages from Saleem, an indicator that everything was going well. This allowed Khan to focus on his other mission. He had no plans for returning to Philadelphia anytime soon, not knowing if any of his other recruits were traitors like Imam Ali had been. Instead, he had stayed in his New Jersey safe house, watching the news, and scanning the street for surveillance.
The former Pakistani Intelligence agent had not detected anyone watching him. He would give it a couple of more days before leaving the safe house and then he would meet with his recruits in Trenton, New York, and DC. He would be extremely careful in setting up the meetings to ensure that he was not betrayed by any of those new soldiers of Allah.
Musa had heard reports that the FBI had managed to slip undercover agents into militant groups around the country. Maybe one day I can meet another of those FBI infidels, he thought. It would be an interesting conversation as I carved them into little pieces, listening to their cries for mercy.
The news shows were all saying that Bashir was leading in the polls against the Jewish Asher. The President had been responsible for the deaths of more Muslims than any other American leader in history when he had destroyed Iran. Maybe one day, I’ll get a chance to meet that Zionist dog, as well.
Arlington, Virginia, Saturday, 0905 hours
Sandra had been surprised by Thomas’ phone call the day before. He’d said that he needed to speak with her about the Sterling video. He had been swamped with meetings the previous day but had asked if he could come over on Saturday morning, even offering to bring breakfast. The FBI agent had arrived wearing a blazer but no tie, for a change. He was carrying a bag from Best Buns Bread Company, along with two large cups of Starbuck’s coffee.
Dunning had not had a man over for years and was now struggling to learn how to live without the use of her legs. Her daughters had alternated helping her for the first month she was home from the hospital, but she was learning to function again on her own. Sandra had set her alarm to give herself plenty of time to get out of bed and make herself presentable for her guest. She realized she had grown to appreciate Burns and the friendship that they were developing. He had visited her over and over in the hospital, not to interview her nor to attempt to squeeze any information out of her, but simply to see how she was doing. He had even snuck in some snacks after she had complained about the lousy hospital food.
“How did you know? Best Buns is one of my favorites,” Sandra said, taking a large bite out of her ham and cheese breakfast sandwich as they sat at her kitchen table.
“Lucky guess,” Thomas smiled, wiping his mouth with a paper napkin. “I stop by there a lot on my way into the office.”
“This is a treat. It’s been a few months since I’ve had one of these sandwiches. My problem was that Best Buns had given me big buns,” Dunning said, with a laugh. “I had finally gotten serious about my fitness. I was watching what I ate and was on the treadmill every morning before work. I was down two pants sizes. Sadly, my treadmill days are over.”
“That’s impressive,” Burns commented, glancing down at his own slight paunch. “I probably need to do something. Maybe I could get McCain to give me a few tips.”
“I think any of those guys could help you out. When we all worked together, if they weren’t on a mission, they were shooting or working out. I’d occasionally be in the gym when Chuck and Scotty were in there. Those are two strong men!”
“Smith seems like a loose cannon to me,” Thomas said.
“Scotty? No, he’s just a big teddy bear. Have you met his wife, Emily? Such a sweet girl.”
“She’s the one who kept me alive after I got shot in Atlanta. McCain slapped on the chest seal and she and Scotty worked me all the way to the hospital. So, even though I like to give him a hard time, I owe them all a debt of gratitude.”
After they finished their breakfast, Sandra led her guest into the living room, the FBI agent carrying both of their coffees so she could maneuver her wheelchair.
After they were settled, Sandra spoke up. “Thank you for breakfast, but it sounded like you had something important to talk about. I trust you got the thumb drive?”
“Yes, I did,” he said, quietly, staring at her for a moment before continuing. “Forensics has it and is working it over with all their magic technology. I should hear something back from them any day now as to whether or not the video is legit and not doctored. They’ll also give us the definitive confirmation as to whether or not that really is Sterling.
“When we get that report back, the ball will start rolling. One of our top agents will get the case and we’ll start moving up the chain-of-command with what we have.”
Dunning smiled. “And from your office, the chain-of-command is only a few of steps to the White House.”
“That’s right. Hopefully, forensics will contact me over the weekend, so my boss and I will try to meet with our Director on Monday or Tuesday. Something else has come up, though, and I wanted to get your thoughts on it. Did Maxwell ever mention any political aspirations to you beyond leading the CIA?”
“No, but those weren’t the kind of conversations that we had. There were never any chitchats with him. Everything was work-related.”
“How does Vice-President Sterling sound to you?”
“Vice-President? Is he even in the running? I knew that he and Bashir were friends, but…oh, my God! That explains everything!”
Burns watched her response closely. S
he was genuinely surprised.
“There’s nothing definitive yet, but there was an article that came out yesterday that showed a photo of Bashir leaving Sterling’s house the night before and speculating that he might be the running mate. That really doesn’t mean anything. Like you said, they’re good friends, but what if? You just said that explains everything. What’d you mean by that?”
Dunning glanced away, not sure how she should answer. That little son-of-a-bitch. That was why Maxwell ordered those ops against Alfie Nicholson and Erin Knight. He knew about the video and Bashir had already spoken to him about being his running mate. Then, he has me killed so that there’s no trail back to him. If anyone ever discovers the CIA involvement in the two assassinations, he can just say that I acted on my own and the Agency can hang me out to dry.
“Thomas, there are some things that I really can’t talk about from my time with the CIA. I’m sorry, but they would prosecute me if I said anything.”
“I understand.” Once a spook, always a spook, he thought again.
“Do you really think that Bashir has asked him to be his running mate?”
“They’re denying it at the moment,” Burns answered, sipping his coffee. “I guess we’ll find out at the convention in a couple of weeks. Look, I know you had to sign a lot of non-disclosure paperwork when you left the CIA. I’m not asking you to violate any of that, but I do want you to know that I’m putting my career on the line here. I was already thinking about retiring, but I really don’t want to spend a few years in a federal pen or even wind up dead because we went off half-cocked with a case against the Director of the CIA.”
