Garcia said in his ear, “I’m on it.”
Carl glanced over at the girls. Luisa and Julia hugged Melissa, but the president’s daughter seemed uncomfortable. She rocked from foot to foot and fidgeted with her hands again. She alternately clasped her fingers, then wrung her hands for a few seconds, then shook them like she was trying to get dirt off. She started scratching the inner parts of both arms at the elbows.
“I have information,” Reyes said, drawing Carl’s attention. “I know people. Powerful people. But you have to let me live.”
“What kind of information?” Carl stomped on the man’s hip wound again, and Reyes howled in pain. “What people?”
Garcia chimed in. “Got it! I just drained his account of every last penny. He had a balance of two hundred thirty-seven million and change.”
“My sources.” Reyes gasped. “You don’t think I could have kidnapped the president’s daughter by myself, do you?” He shook his head. “I want asylum. I want immunity.”
“Carl,” Palmer said. “The drone is detecting radar signals—” He heard a brief squeal in his ear, followed by a couple of beeps, and suddenly his team was silent.
A shiver of panic gripped Carl’s gut, and he turned away from Reyes. “Agent Palmer, are you there? Nancy, talk to me. Garcia? Anybody?”
His brain raced to understand what was happening. Radar signals? Sudden loss of comm? That meant inbound aircraft with jamming equipment.
“Fuck!” He ran over to Melissa and the Reyes girls. “Come on, we’ve got to get out of here, right now!”
He grabbed Melissa by the arm and turned toward the sound of a racing engine. It was the Hummer that Merc Two was driving. The vehicle was slowing and had just started to navigate around the VW van.
Even as the thought tumbled through his mind that the mission wasn’t over, the Hummer exploded in a tremendous fireball.
Chapter 61
0642 MST Thursday
Northern Mexico
Carl felt the heat from the explosion, even though the Hummer was nearly fifty yards away. Just before the fireball erupted, Carl’s peripheral vision registered a flash of light streaking into the truck from the left. Merc Two had been hit by a missile, but before Carl could even process the thought, he saw the trail of fire from another missile streaking skyward. Its point of origin was somewhere beyond the hills immediately to the south of him. A third missile slammed into the top of the near hill and exploded exactly where the drug lord’s sniper had been perched, and a fourth streaked into the distance toward Carl’s mercenaries.
Carl tracked the second missile’s smoke trail upward until it finally hit the orbiting drone and exploded. A few seconds later, the source of the missiles arrived in the form of two combat helicopters flying side-by-side over the near hills. One, a modern troop carrier, banked high above, while the other, a smaller escort gunship, flew to the west. That one, Carl knew, was heading off to make sure the mercenaries were dead.
The olive-green combat helicopters looked as modern and deadly as anything in the US Army inventory. The troop carrier had one missile pod attached to each side of its fuselage above the open doors. A machine gun was also mounted in each doorway. The smaller chopper was similarly armed, and Carl figured it was also outfitted with sensors good enough to find and kill Merc Four and her spotter.
A puff of fire and smoke erupted on the distant hilltop as the fourth missile hit. If Three and Four weren’t dead, they soon would be. A sniper team versus an armed combat chopper were not very good odds. They had heavy weapons and RPGs as backup, but Carl knew the military chopper had defensive capabilities. It would make quick work of the mercs.
Carl and the women stopped and watched as the army-green troop carrier flew one complete orbit over them, then settled into a hover. One of the machine guns was pointed at Carl’s group. Finally, the aircraft settled to the ground with a whirlwind of dust a hundred yards to the south.
A half dozen soldiers in desert camouflage uniforms that blended with the landscape jumped from the far side of the helicopter and raced away to form a partial perimeter. A half dozen more jumped from the near side of the helicopter. A fellow who looked maybe ten years Carl’s senior exited the chopper last. He was dressed in a formal army green uniform. The man had several rows of ribbons and medals over his left breast pocket, but he wore no name tag.
Carl figured that meant the man was a general. In the US military, generals didn’t wear name tags either. He never knew the official reason for this, but he figured if you’re a general everyone is supposed to know your name anyway, so you don’t need a name tag. No such thing in the US military as an unknown general.
The officer placed a standard military beret on his head after he moved from under the rotors and away from the turbulent prop wash, then he strode confidently toward Carl.
Beside him, Luisa whispered, “El Patron.”
When he glanced at her, he saw fear in her eyes, and she even took a step back behind Carl and pulled Julia with her.
Carl felt a curious mix of emotions as he watched the man approach. The fact that Luisa whispered his name spoke volumes. He got the feeling people weren’t allowed to speak his name. Maybe people weren’t allowed to know his name. No doubt Luisa knew who he was through her husband’s business dealings.
Agent Palmer had mentioned that the US government believed Alfonso Reyes was connected with high-level military personnel, and Garcia’s sources had said the same. Carl got the feeling the man’s sudden appearance wasn’t a coincidence, and he wasn’t there on official military business despite his show of force. Carl figured the man had a personal stake in the outcome of Reyes’s transaction.
Instinctively, Carl felt a degree of safety. He knew there was no way the Mexican army would be complicit in the kidnapping of the daughter of the American president, unless they wanted to fight a war with the US. By the same argument a rogue army general would have the same limitations since his actions, though unsanctioned, could put his government at risk and would therefore imperil his own empire.
“Melissa, stand behind me with our friends, okay?”
The general stopped within arm’s reach of Carl and looked down at him with his arms clasped behind his back. He was a bear of a man, and stood a head taller than Carl. His gray hair was buzz-cut on the sides below his cap.
“Mr. Johnson, would you mind holstering your weapon? I’d hate for one of my soldiers to shoot you by accident.”
Carl had forgotten he still held the weapon he’d wanted to use to end Reyes’s life. He nodded and very slowly put the gun away.
He concentrated on controlling his outward appearance. He couldn’t afford to show even the slightest concern. Inwardly, he feared for the lives of Melissa and the Reyes women. While the general sounded polite and civilized, his eyes gave Carl the impression he would order their deaths without hesitation.
Carl dipped his head down a bit and looked up at the man from under his brows, hoping to impart a sinister look that might unnerve the military officer. He also held the barest hint of a sneer at the corner of his mouth.
The general didn’t seem intimidated, though. He just stood there. He had bars and stars and something that looked like a woven ribbon all over his upper arms and shoulder epaulets, but Carl had no idea what all that meant.
The man glanced behind Carl at the three women. He examined them as a child might examine an ant before he squashed them or burned them with a magnifying glass. Carl decided to take the offensive and get control of whatever negotiation was forming in the man’s mind.
“Are you here to clean up his mess?” He nodded at Reyes.
“They told me you looked exactly like him, Mr. Johnson, but I never truly believed it until this very moment.” He paused a moment.
They?
“He still owes me a great deal of money,” the general said. “So it is fortunate that you did not kill him, although I’m curious why you let him live.”
“We’re fifty miles
from nowhere. I figured I’d let him bleed out.” Carl glanced over near the burning VW bus and Hummer. Black smoke billowed into the sky and drifted to the north on a light breeze.
“But if it’s money you want, there’s a bunch over there in that case. Untraceable US government bearer bonds.” Carl shrugged. “I’m told they’re real, not forged.”
Carl made the statement like he knew what he was talking about, but in truth he was only regurgitating what Agent Palmer had told him. In his previous economic strata, none of his clients ever dealt with bearer bonds. In fact, the denomination of each single bond in that case was far more than his highest annual salary had been when he worked in the defense business. He hadn’t even taken the time on the op to examine the bonds to see what one actually looked like. He didn’t need to. They were simply a tool to facilitate the trade for Melissa Mallory.
The general glanced at the briefcase. “They may be real, but I’m sure the US government has any number of high-tech devices they could install in the bonds, no? A nanofiber transmitter, perhaps? Or a lightly radioactive ink with a suitable half-life of say, twenty-four to forty-eight hours. That would be long enough to track me to my stronghold or my warehouse, where they could then invade, or even hit me with a bomb.” He glanced over his shoulder and up into the sky where smoke of the stricken drone was still drifting on the wind.
“Well, not with a bomb from that drone, yes?” The man paused as he turned his attention back to Carl. “So my preference is for real electronic money, Mr. Johnson.”
Carl found it curious that the general mentioned the drone’s bomb. It was as if he knew the drone had carried one, but didn’t know they’d used it on Reyes’s house. The general spoke to one of his soldiers, and the young man trotted over to where Reyes lay.
“My dilemma now is what to do with you.”
“You should let us go. My ops center knows I have the girl. Anything happens to her now, President Mallory is going to kick your ass and anyone close to you.”
“Ah,” the general said. “So you are in league with your president. Not quite the terrorist you led us to believe, eh?”
“She and I have a mutual mission objective.” Carl head-nodded toward Reyes. “You could call her a client. I promised to get her daughter back, and she gave me a pardon and let me keep Reyes’s ransom.”
“You have my money?”
Carl nodded. “Not only the second ransom, but just a few minutes ago he gave me the rest so he could live. That’s almost five hundred million.”
“I would advise you to return the money immediately.”
Carl said nothing, and after a moment of silence the general continued. “Look around, Mr. Johnson. How is your client going to save you now? Your president has no idea who I am. I know that for a fact. And your closest retrieval team is half an hour away, that is, if they even dare to cross the border, now that they are uncertain you are even still alive.”
The depth of the man’s intel troubled Carl, but he didn’t change his expression.
“The way I see things, General, I don’t need saving,” Carl said. “Your problem is that my people, not the US government, hold all of the ransom money in my accounts. Seems to me, you might consider negotiating for its return, minus a small handling fee, that is.”
The general said, “That was not his money for you to steal. It was mine.”
Carl shook his head. “I’m sure we can reach terms.”
The general grunted. “I grow weary with this exchange. Why don’t we discuss how quickly you can return my money, and I might just let you live.” The man raised his right hand and waved two fingers. Several of his soldiers stepped forward into a rough semicircle around Carl and the girls, the business ends of their rifles pointed at Carl’s group.
Carl eased his right hand to his gun. The holster was not snapped, so all he had to do was pull the weapon free. With his left hand, he reached back for Melissa’s arm and pulled her up against him. She didn’t have to be told what to do. She grabbed onto his vest with both hands.
Unfortunately, there was little he could do for Julia and her mother, who were also behind him. Melissa was the mission. The Reyes women weren’t.
“You’ll die with us, General. And if Melissa Mallory dies, the president will bomb your country back into the Stone Age. That, you can count on.”
“You’re playing a dangerous game with the lives of these young women.” Again, Carl remained silent. “My investors demand a certain return on their investment. These are powerful people who would not hesitate to facilitate a war between your country and mine.”
To Carl, the general’s revelation was nothing less than a confession. His investors were the financiers of Reyes’s operation to kidnap the First Daughter, and the ransom money was their return on investment. He and Agent Palmer had Reyes’s motivation all wrong.
This was never a simple kidnapping to propel the status of a mid-level drug lord onto the global terrorist landscape. With money in the hundreds of millions, though, Carl figured there had to be some other reason for the high-risk kidnapping. Reyes was merely a pawn, a minor player, though he had tried to make the game his own. It was more important than ever now that Alfonso Reyes lived, so he could be interrogated. The thought of seeing him on one of McGrath’s tables filled Carl with a sadistic thrill.
There was a more sinister plot unfolding at a high political level, and Carl sensed the endgame of that plot would not culminate with the release or rescue of the president’s daughter.
“I understand your immediate need, General, so let me make a counter-proposal that might serve us both a little better.” The general nodded. “Even if you take that man back with you,” he nodded over at Reyes, “he won’t be available to conduct business for several weeks because he’ll be recuperating. Instead, let me assume his identity. Let’s leave him here in the desert to suffer and die. Luisa and I can run his business. That’s good for, what, ten million a year in profit straight off the top, right?”
The general nodded. “Closer to thirty million.”
“Okay, so I get your money back for your investors, and you help me get settled into Reyes’s life and his business and his identity, then we split the proceeds of the business. After all, I’ll get my pardon, but I’ll still be a terrorist. I need a new country to call home.”
For some reason, lying through his teeth felt immensely gratifying. He had little choice, though. If he couldn’t convince the general he could help him, Melissa and Luisa and Julia would die with him. He recalled Agent Palmer’s words:
“Do whatever it takes to complete the mission.”
They discussed the intricacies of the exact monetary split and, after receiving slightly more than half, the general nodded.
Gunshots suddenly erupted from the burning wreckage of Merc Two’s SUV. Carl and the general ducked, and Melissa clung tighter to the back of his vest. The soldiers closest to the wreckage instantly covered the area, and even the helicopter machine gunner swung his weapon over. The gunfire was short-lived, and Carl figured it was Two’s ammo mags cooking off. He stood upright and glanced behind him to make sure his women were alright.
“Well, that was unexpected,” El Patron said. “Anyway, you don’t mind if I keep these two as my insurance policy.” He nodded at the two Reyes ladies behind Carl.
“Hostages would give the appearance that this is not a business transaction, and would portray me as being weak. That would not be acceptable.” Carl shrugged. “You let them drive out of here, you and I shake hands, and then it looks like you and I are business partners. Besides, if I fail to perform, I’m sure you know where to find them. In business, appearances matter greatly. I’m sure you understand.”
The general nodded. “Still, I would feel more comfortable if they stayed with me.”
Carl glared at El Patron. “Look, General. I can guarantee you, I’m coming back down here to Mexico after I deliver the president’s daughter. The only question is whether I’m coming back to
do business with you or to go to war with you.”
The general started to object, but Carl waved him quiet. “If you fly out of here with these ladies as hostages, you’re just slapping me in the face. That means war.”
The general smiled and looked over his shoulder at his helicopter. “My guns are bigger than yours.”
Carl shrugged. “I’m sure that’s what the FBI and that covert kill squad thought before I kicked their asses and killed their assault teams with a drug-addict CIA flunky, a laptop, some cell phones, and four mercenaries.” He paused. “If we go to war, General, I guarantee you’ll see zero investment return, whether you win the war or not. Personally, I’d prefer to do business with you, because it’s more profitable. But I don’t have anything to lose, so I’m okay either way.”
The general smiled suddenly and let out a loud laugh to cover up his tenuous negotiating position. He needed his money back, and Carl knew it. El Patron waved his soldiers away, and they retreated back toward the troop carrier. Then he stepped close to Carl and snarled with his smile still spread across his countenance.
“Mrs. Reyes and her daughter can go,” he said. “Then I will fly you and the president’s daughter to the border. But if you are not back within seventy-two hours, then we most certainly will be at war, Mr. Johnson.”
Carl stuck out his hand, and he and the general shook briefly.
“I do not want a war with El Patron.” He cocked his head to the right and said, “Julia, tell your mom to take you home. Take your dad’s Hummer.” The engine was still running.
“He’s not my dad.”
“Whatever. Just go, right now.”
Julia grabbed her mother by the arm and practically dragged her to the Hummer, all the while translating Carl’s instructions. Luisa got Julia into the front passenger side, then hurried around the front of the truck, pausing to look back at him before climbing into the driver seat. He gave her a quick head nod, then looked at the general.
American Terrorist Trilogy Page 31
