American Terrorist Trilogy

by Jeffrey Poston

  Carl got out, walked around the truck, and helped Luisa out. Julia jumped out on her own, and he led them both to the front of the bus. Then he joined the mercs in front of the Hummer.

  The mercs were back in combat mode. All three wore black, skin-tight, long-sleeve pull-overs. Balaclavas covered their hair, neck, and ears, and black paint darkened their exposed faces. They wore Kevlar vests with numerous pockets, and their black cargo pants had even more pockets. Every pocket seemed filled with weapons or supplies.

  Palmer said, “Mr. Johnson, what is your status?”

  “Ready to continue the search for Bobcat.”

  “Reyes may have been suspicious of your motives for meeting him, or perhaps he may have suspected we had deduced Melissa’s location.”

  “Yeah,” Merc Two said. “Or maybe someone told him.” Carl looked at the man and nodded, but he said nothing. He’d had a similar thought when Julia Reyes said they had taken Melissa the evening before. The timing of her removal and the launch of the mission was too perfect.

  “So where is the girl, Agent Palmer?” Carl said. “Where did those cars go?”

  “Unknown.” She paused. “I couldn’t risk retasking the drone to follow one or both cars. That would have left the house, your primary target, unsecured.”

  “Copy that. Now we need to pull him back into the game somehow.” Carl looked over at Julia. “Do you or your mom know Alfonso’s cell number?” The girl spoke with her mother, and Luisa pulled out her flip-model cell phone and scrolled through a menu.

  To Palmer, he said, “I think we need a more direct approach. I’ll tell him I’ve got his wife and daughter as insurance.”

  Agent Palmer said, “I thought I heard the girl say he hated them.”

  “I have an idea to use that.” He told them his plan.

  “Oh, yeah,” Garcia said. “That’ll work, Boss.”

  Palmer agreed. “That’s a good cultural play.”

  Carl looked at his mercs, and they each nodded. He said, “Besides, I’m guessing he wants his money sooner rather than later.”

  Garcia interrupted. “What if he objects to the bearer bonds and wants an electronic transfer of payment?”

  Carl shrugged even though he knew Garcia couldn’t see the gesture. “They’re fake bearer bonds, right?”

  Palmer said, “No, they’re the real thing. It’s too easy to do a field test.”

  Carl nodded. “Well, the only way he gets his money is by taking the bonds. I’ll tell him, take it or leave it.”

  Carl took Luisa’s open flip phone from her and hit SEND to call the contact she highlighted. He stuck the device against his left ear so Garcia, Palmer, and the mercs could hear both sides of the conversation through the comm channel.

  A man’s voice started talking rapidly in Spanish. The voice sounded angry. It sounded sinister. A picture formed in Carl’s mind of the man, of his own image, leaning out of a black SUV, killing Mark Johnson. A familiar rage filled him, and he growled into the cell.

  “Shut the fuck up and pay attention.”

  “Who is this?”

  Carl shouted at the phone. “Who the fuck do you think it is?”

  He took a deep breath and saw Mercs Three and Four trading glances of concern. Merc Two held his hands out toward Carl. He patted the air like he was trying to tell Carl to calm down.

  Carl nodded and said, “I’m the man who has your wife and daughter.” He paused. “And two hundred fifty million US dollars that almost belonged to you. I’d like to discuss that trade now. The money and your family for the girl you kidnapped.”

  “I see.” Reyes’s English was nearly perfect. “Your people made no mention of bringing my family into the transaction.”

  “I want to make sure you remain sufficiently motivated. But I’ll be happy to keep your wife if you don’t want her back. Except I’ll be nice to her. No more scars, you know what I’m saying?”

  The implication was that Carl had to have seen the man’s wife naked to see her scars. Reyes would be wondering how and why Carl had gotten Luisa out of her clothes. He’d be thinking maybe Carl took advantage of Luisa before she realized he wasn’t her husband. He’d be thinking maybe she liked it. He’d be feeling angry, insecure, and vulnerable. He’d want a confrontation to make things right.

  “You play a dangerous game, Mr. Johnson.”

  Carl said, “I want the American girl.”

  “I see,” Reyes said. Carl couldn’t hear any anger in the man’s voice, but he knew curiosity was eating at his insides. It had to be. “And I understand your fee for this transaction is fifty million dollars.”

  “Correct.”

  “And why would you take less than what you already have in your possession?”

  “A presidential pardon and another hundred million will be part of my deal with the US government.” Carl decided to play his vulnerability card. “Unlike you, I don’t have the infrastructure in place to disappear. I don’t have high-level military friends to protect me. I can have less money with a pardon, and be a hero by returning the girl, or I’ll have a target on my back for the rest of my life.”

  Reyes was silent for a few seconds. “Since my business dealings have been somewhat lucrative lately, I agree to your terms.” Reyes dictated some coordinates. “I’ll expect you to be at the foothills of El Chappa at dawn. That’s northeast of La Laguna Chiquita.”

  “I will see you at sunrise.” Carl flipped the phone closed, terminating the call.

  Chapter 57

  0335 MST Thursday

  Northern Mexico

  Carl held the closed cell in his hand for a moment. He found himself wishing he could reach into the device and across the airwaves to wrap his fingers around Reyes’s throat.

  “Motherfucker,” he whispered.

  Palmer took charge of the op again and started outlining their plan of engagement.

  “As soon as you have Bobcat, proceed immediately to the Columbus Port of Entry. If you meet resistance on your return, we’ll launch the recovery team, but only if it appears we can engage without firing on Mexican military or police forces. If this goes sideways, you’ll be on your own. We can’t risk a shooting war with our ally.”

  “Plan B then?” Carl said. He looked at his mercs. “Just in case things do go sideways.”

  Everyone was silent for a moment.

  Agent Palmer said, “Can any of you fly a small plane or a helicopter?”

  Carl and his group all looked at each other, but no one spoke.

  “That’s a big negative,” Carl said.

  “Okay, I’ll get a pilot down to that municipal airport you just drove past,” Palmer paused, then said “Nuevo Casas Grandes.”

  Carl said, “Where are you going to find a pilot after midnight?”

  “It’s what we do, Carl.”

  Merc Four added, “There’s an FBI field office over in El Paso. They’ll be happy to wake up at oh-dark-thirty in the morning and lend us a hand.”

  Three said, “There’s an army base over there too. And we already know there are CIA in-country assets.”

  “Okay,” Two said. “Plan B is we evac to the airport if we encounter resistance, steal a plane, and take our chances in the air. Plan C is we fight it out on the ground and drive to the border if we can, and Plan D is we hike and carry the girl if we have to.”

  Carl glanced at the Reyes girls as they conversed in Spanish.

  “Agent Palmer, I don’t know how high up your drone is, but is our immediate area clear? Can you see to the trade site from here?”

  “We’ve got it hovering at twenty thousand feet now and, yes, you are secure. There is no traffic within ten miles of your current location. Our plan is to divert the drone over the trade site shortly before your rendezvous. I want to keep the bird with you, otherwise I can’t guarantee your operational security.”

  “Understood.”

  Merc Four brought out the tablet. She placed it on the hood of the Hummer, and they all began to put to
gether a plan to cover the trade site. As the mercs and Palmer finessed their plan, Carl found himself looking over at Julia and her mother again. The girl smiled and waved at him, but Luisa Reyes was more reserved. He went over to them.

  Julia said, “Mama thinks you’re going to leave us here after you find the American girl.”

  There were many reasons—excuses, really—he could use to explain why he was using them, but he decided to cut right to the chase. He wasn’t like McGrath, and deep down in his soul he knew he didn’t want to be. Not anymore.

  Carl nodded, then took the girl’s cheeks between his palms and kissed her on the forehead.

  “Julia, I’m sorry, but I can’t take you with me. I don’t have passports or visas for you or your mom.” He paused for a moment.

  “Truth is, I didn’t come down here for you. I’m only here for the American girl.” He paused. “And I’m here for Alfonso Reyes. He murdered my son. As soon as Melissa is safe, I’m going to kill that man.” He looked at Mrs. Reyes. “That’s the best I can do for you.”

  Julia leaned into her mom and spoke quietly. Mrs. Reyes hugged the girl and gazed at Carl for a few seconds. Then she nodded.

  Carl couldn’t understand how a young girl could live in an environment surrounded by men like Reyes and still find fragile hope in the words of a stranger like himself. Then he found himself wanting to do something for Julia. He wanted to rescue her and her mother. Maybe by saving them he could balance out the red in his ledger, make up for some of the terrible things he’d done in the name of vengeance.

  Still, he had one more act of vengeance to complete. He had to kill Alfonso Reyes. For Mark. For Julia. For his own sanity. And then what about McGrath and all the others responsible for Mark’s death? When would there be enough blood spilled that he could be okay with the loss of his son? He knew the answer.

  Palmer’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Carl, are you with us?”

  “No.”

  All talk on the comm circuit in his ear ceased. He could sense his mercs staring at the back of his head. Even Julia and her mother looked at him.

  It was at that very instant he realized that regardless of his words to the contrary, he was still on the path of vengeance. His agreement with the president validated that path, because Mallory couldn’t get her daughter back without allowing his own gratification. Now, as he looked into Julia’s innocent brown eyes, he realized that killing Reyes wouldn’t help her. It wouldn’t help her mother, and it wouldn’t help Melissa Mallory.

  Killing Reyes damn sure wouldn’t help Mark. He knew it was just an excuse to satisfy his own thirst for revenge. It would add more blood, more red to his ledger. The only real way to balance that ledger was to help people.

  He looked at Julia and said, “Thank you, sweetie. Thank you for setting me straight.”

  He turned back to his mercs and said, “Agent Palmer, we have to change the mission.”

  Chapter 58

  0612 MST Thursday

  Northern Mexico

  Carl drove the orange Volkswagen bus across the desert flats. The old engine roared and rattled. Luisa Reyes sat on the bench behind Carl, while Julia leaned over the backrest on her elbows and kept her left arm in contact with Carl’s right shoulder. She gazed out the front window.

  He glanced over at her. She looked at him in return and smiled. She was a cute kid. In a different world, he’d hang out with her. He could see himself being a big brother or a role model, maybe helping her with science projects or library research or something.

  The landscape he drove through looked quite a bit like a lot of New Mexico. He saw lots of scrub brush, wild grass, and even a few bunny-ear cactus. Even the climate was similar. It was warmer than in Albuquerque, and the early December temperature hovered around forty at night before it would rise to the mid- to upper-sixties during the day, according to Agent Palmer’s people. The air wasn’t as dry as high-desert New Mexico air, because the elevation was slightly lower in Mexico, maybe three thousand feet above sea level instead of five.

  Normally, driving across empty land put Carl in a thinking mood, but the closer he got to the exchange site, the more anxious he felt. He gripped the steering wheel tight with both hands and began to sweat, despite the cool air blasting in through his open window. Merc Four made him chug down a power drink, but now he felt like a stimulant was running through his veins. Or maybe it was just adrenaline.

  “Ten minutes, Carl,” Agent Palmer said.

  “Copy that.”

  He kept telling himself he had to stay in character. He had to keep his cool when he faced the man who murdered his son. He had to be like McGrath, even though he had only a fraction of that man’s mission experience.

  He kept affirming he was the FBI’s most wanted bad-ass. The Feds had described him in their Tier One proclamation as being “fearless and ruthless.” They also said he was “calculated, demented, and bordering on suicidal insane.” That was the man he had to be when he faced Mark’s murderer.

  “By the way, Carl. The president sends her gratitude.” She paused. “I think it was a good move changing the mission parameters. I’m curious why you decided to do that.”

  Before Carl changed the parameters, Palmer had said he and his team needed to anticipate a fluid mission. That’s what happened at Reyes’s house, though, and Carl knew he hadn’t handled that fluid situation very well. He’d just been lucky.

  He’d learned his lesson. The new operation was complicated enough, fluid enough, with only one mission goal. Up to that point, they were still trying to get the girl and get Reyes. That implied both objectives were equal, and satisfaction of either objective meant a successful mission.

  “It was simple, Nancy,” Carl said. “I asked myself what that fucker Aaron McGrath would do.”

  One mission, one objective. The man wouldn’t be blinded by emotion or any desire for revenge.

  He added, “We’re here to get the girl. If Reyes gets away, I can live with that. I’ll just hunt him down another day. If the girl gets killed, though, I wouldn’t be able to consider that a successful mission outcome.” He paused. “Fucking McGrath,” he muttered. “That’s what he’d do.”

  “Contact, two minutes,” Palmer reported. “Mercs Three and Four are in position. Merc Two is on standby.”

  Like the mercenaries, Carl had changed into all-black assault gear. Somehow, the gear looked a lot more sinister on his mercs than it felt on him. He wore a black head glove to keep his dome warm. The black turtleneck fit comfortably, and it was made out of a high-tech fiber like outdoor athletes used. The fabric was light and tight, but breathable, so it would pass sweat away and keep him cool in active situations. At the same time, it retained his body heat during the cool night temperatures.

  His armored vest had the same pockets, grenades, and knives the other mercenaries had, and he’d been told there was a first-aid kit in one of the pockets, as well as two small tubular canteens, and several energy bars. Merc Two replaced his lost Glock-17 with a Glock-21, which was holstered on his right hip, and he carried a half dozen forty-five caliber, thirteen-round clips in his side pockets.

  The flat road curved around a knoll and passed between two of the hills. Carl listened to the report in his ear from Agent Palmer, who relayed the scene out of sight ahead, as viewed from the drone cruising overhead. Then he saw the exchange site. He saw a white Hummer and a gray pickup about two miles up the road. Men stood outside the vehicles.

  “Agent Palmer, do you have eyes on the package?”

  “Negative.” She paused, and he pictured her and her analysts bent in front of a computer monitor, maybe shifting between the various sensor feeds from the drone. “Slow your van to a stop fifty yards from the vehicles, and park sideways across the road.”

  “Copy that.”

  The mercs had scavenged pieces of the carriage house garage doors to build what basically was a ten-layer, somewhat bullet-proof shield on the driver’s side of the van’s passenger compa
rtment. Carl’s sole task was to get Melissa into the van, while the mercs dealt with Reyes’s men.

  He wasn’t comfortable bringing Luisa and Julia to the trade site, but he had no other choice. Agent Palmer had plainly said he’d have to show Reyes he actually had them for the trade.

  “Merc Four,” Palmer said. “A tango has just ascended the low hill Carl just passed. Looks like a shooter. His distance to the trade site is four hundred ten yards.”

  Three’s voice answered. “We see him. He appears to be armed with only a short-range sniper rifle. Recommend we designate him as ‘Tango One.’”

  “Approved.”

  Carl slowed the VW bus and motioned Julia and her mother down out of sight.

  “I know Four is on the closest hill with an unobstructed line of sight, but can she cover me from there?”

  Agent Palmer said, “She is exactly zero-point-nine-two miles from you. She won’t miss.”

  Three added, “She’ll hit the apricot from there.”

  “Excuse me? Apricot?”

  “The apricot is the medulla oblongata. It’s located at the base of the skull. It’s the part of the brain that controls involuntary muscle movement. Hit the apricot, and you get an instant kill with no reflexive response or involuntary trigger-pulling.”

  “Seriously? From a mile away?”

  Palmer said, “It’s true, Carl. You needn’t worry. Besides, she has a modified Barrett M-107 sniper rifle, compliments of the US government.”

  “That means absolutely nothing to me.”

  Four said, “It means I’ve got your back, Boss. I won’t miss.”

  Reyes’s big white Hummer was parked sideways across the road. Parked tail-to-nose directly in front of the Hummer was the other gray truck that also looked sort of like a Hummer, but not quite. He saw a man climb up on the back and pull aside a blue tarp.