“It’s completely isolated. There are no links out. That’s why we need to get in and plant a transmitter.”
The waitress walked over and delivered Mitch’s shake. “Yours will be a few more minutes, darling.”
Both men contemplated the problem in silence. Mitch sucked on his straw as he watched the crowds walk past. He noticed a woman talking on her phone as she walked into the building. She nodded to the security guards, swiped her ID, and disappeared. He turned back to Mirza. “I think I’ve got a solution. Your cousin OK with us borrowing his cab again?”
***
FORT BLISS, TEXAS
Howard adjusted his tie and buffed his shoes on the back of his pants. This was the first time he had ever requested a formal meeting with the JTF director. He’d been working non-stop since speaking to Pershing and the intelligence package under his arm was extremely thorough. It contained false liaison reports, link analysis charts, and fabricated HUMINT from Source 88. If this wouldn’t convince Everest, nothing would.
“Terrance, is that you?” the director asked from behind the door.
Howard took a deep breath. “Yes, sir.” He tentatively pushed it open.
“Come in, son.” Everest gestured to the chair in front of his desk. “I have to admit, this meeting request caught me a little by surprise.” He smiled. “A good surprise, that is.” He nodded at Howard’s tie. “And you’re wearing your own clothes too.”
He sat and dropped the file on Everest’s desk. Damn, he thought, he had not meant for it to seem so casual.
The director’s grey eyebrows arched. “What’s this?”
He swallowed. “It’s an intel pack I’ve been working on for a while, sir.”
Everest picked it up and started flicking through it. “Summary?”
“Sir, it outlines everything we have on an environmental terrorist who has links to an American left-wing journalist. They are planning to attack an American-backed mine just south of the border in Mexico.”
If Everest’s grey eyebrows were raised before, now they were trying to make contact with his receding hairline. “Really?”
“Yes, sir. We’ve got reporting that a mercenary known only as Aden is currently in Mexico conducting planning for an attack on the Barrio Del Rancho mine near Chihuahua. This guy’s a bad ass, sir. He’s professional, low key, and he’s got skills. I received an email today from Ground Effects Services, the organization running security at the mine. One of their phones had been bugged by one of Aden’s associates.”
Everest held up the C4I4 image from Mexico. “This the guy?”
“Yes, sir, I’m calling him Objective Yankee.”
Everest chewed his lip and flicked to the next image. “This picture.” He stabbed his finger at the grainy picture showing Objective Yankee standing next to a tall blonde operative, both armed to the teeth.
“Yes, sir, in Kiev he was part of an attack on a nightclub owned by an arms dealer. Over twenty people were killed in that incident alone.”
“Yes, seems to be a pretty serious threat.”
“It is, sir.”
“So what’s all this about, Howard? I’m guessing you’re not here just to show me your good work. What do you need?”
“Sir, I would like to put together a tiger team to work on two projects.”
“I’m guessing one of them is to deal with the Objective Yankee threat. What’s the other?”
Howard realized he was leaning forward with his hands clenched together. He leaned back and tried to relax. “Confirming the identity of the new Sinaloa boss for Chihuahua. As you know, my source is telling me it’s Ramon Ramirez, but we’re still not sure. Once confirmed, I want to work up courses of action to engage him.”
Howard could see the director’s brain was working. The man chewed his lip as he stared into the distance. He pouted as he leaned forward. “Good initiative, Howard. I like it. I’ll give you an additional analyst and a signals intelligence guy. You can work out of one of the operations rooms. Need anything else?”
“Yes, sir, I’d like a Predator to provide eyes on the mine at night. We know this guy’s moving in for his recon. We might be able to catch him out.”
“I’ll check with ops. If we’ve still got hours this month you can have what’s left. It’s probably a better use for it than dawdling up and down the fence watching refugees hiding in the dunes.”
“Excellent, sir, I won’t let you down.”
Everest’s eyes narrowed. “If you do, you’re done.”
The color drained from Howard’s face.
“I’m just messing with you. Get back to work.”
Howard loosened his tie and wiped his hands on his pants as he escaped down the corridor. He contemplated ringing Pershing and passing on the good news but decided against it. He would confirm the availability of the Predator first, then head home to get some sleep.
***
CHIHUAHUA
After dinner, Roberto and the brothers, Miguel and Gerardo, lit a fire in a pit behind the cabins. They sat in a circle, watching the flames dance and smoking cheap cigars. Gerardo, the older of the two, had a guitar on his knee and was softly strumming a tune.
Bishop sat on a log at the edge of the group, staring out over the desert. It always amazed him how clear the stars were when you got away from the glare of the city. He zipped up his jacket to ward off the cool night air.
“If you are cold, you should sit closer to the fire,” said Roberto as he offered Bishop a cigar.
“I don’t smoke, thanks.” He dragged his log a little closer to the flames.
“Has Christina already gone to bed?”
“Yes, I think all the excitement wore her out.”
Roberto nodded as he puffed on his cigar.
Gerardo started humming as he played, and in a short while added lyrics to the tune. He had a rich baritone voice that filled the night air. Bishop knew enough Spanish to identify it as a love ballad.
He glanced down the hill to where Emilio was sitting by himself on a rocky outcrop. There had been no animosity from the old rancher, even though Bishop felt responsible for the capture of his son, Carlos.
“We chose to fight back,” Emilio had said when he tried to apologize. “We all know what’s at stake.”
Bishop was lost in his thoughts for a moment, then rose from the log. “I’m going to turn in. I’ll see you gentlemen in the morning.”
“Goodnight, Aden, thanks again for your help,” said Roberto.
The two brothers nodded in agreement and he left them at the fire. He pushed the door of the cabin slowly open and crept in.
“Aden, is that you?” Christina mumbled from the bed.
“Yes.” He stripped down to his boxers and T-shirt and slid in under the blankets, trying not to disturb her. It was a small double bed and she nuzzled into his neck and swung her arm over his chest. She mumbled something incoherent before her breathing grew shallow and she fell asleep.
He lay there thinking about Carlos, and the predicament the farmers faced. It was obvious without help it was an almost hopeless cause. As he lay there listening to Christina’s breathing and evaluating the situation, his eyes grew heavy.
***
NEW YORK CITY
The yellow New York taxicab stopped at the curb in front of the Pulvermach building. “How much longer do you need?” Mirza asked from behind the wheel.
“Just a few more seconds, then we need to go around again,” Mitch replied from the back seat. The PRIMAL technician had used suction caps to string lengths of wire around the inside of the cab. They were plugged into a laptop, which he was studying intently.
It was the early hours of the morning and the streets were relatively quiet. New York might not sleep but it certainly slowed a little. The only vehicles on the roads were cabs, street sweepers, and garbage trucks. Mirza watched the traffic as he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and hummed a tune. He glanced in the mirror and noticed a man in a suit staggering along the
road. “Mitch, we’ve got another one.” Two drunken businessmen had already tried to hail them.
“OK, OK, we’re good. I just need you to circle the block once more.”
Mirza started the cab, indicated, and pulled away from the curb. He drove down the street and turned, circling back around the block. “This is going to have to be the last time. If I drive past again the security guards may notice.”
Mitch was still studying the laptop’s screen. “Last time, I promise. I’ve pretty much got everything I need.”
“Pretty much? We’ve been around five times.”
“Yep, I’ve got it all, I’ve definitely got it this time. Let’s go.”
Mirza drove slowly along the road behind the office complex. “So how exactly does it work?”
“The antennas pick up all the Wi-Fi, Bluetooth, and cell phone networks operating in the area. When we drive around Flash’s software uses triangulation algorithms to locate the source and map it out. Then all I need to do is work out which ones might give us a way of penetrating GE’s network.”
“And if there isn’t one?”
“Then we have to go back to plan B. Parachuting onto the roof and sneaking in. But hey, that sounds like an operator problem not a technical issue.”
Mirza grinned. “I thought you were looking forward to getting into the field.”
“Parachuting and sneaking in through air vents is not field work.” He patted his computer. “This is field work.”
“Each to their own.” Mirza drove across town toward the apartment they had rented. “So you sure you got everything?”
Mitch hunched over the laptop. “Yeah I think so, old man.”
“Old man? Do you even know how old I am, Mitch?”
The geek looked up from his computer. “Just a term of endearment, mate. But now that you mention it, how old are you?”
“Older than you. So you should respect your elders and tell me what you’ve found.”
“Can’t argue with that. We’ve got bugger-all networks and a handful of devices. These guys are running a pretty tight ship. But, there are always kids that don’t want to play by the rules. I’ve found a very faint Bluetooth signal coming from around the twentieth floor. It looks like a tablet device.”
“How does that help?” Mirza asked as he turned down their street.
“Well, tablets use a lot of power and the easiest way to charge them is to plug them into a USB port, yeah.”
Mirza shook his head. “A company like GE would definitely have locked out their ports.”
“That’s not a drama. Hacking around a locked-out USB port is the easy bit. The hard part is going to be getting a Bluetooth transmitter close enough to upload a hack.”
“And we’re back to parachuting,” Mirza said laughing.
“That’s not as stupid as it sounds.” Mitch closed his laptop. “What time do you think the closest hobby store opens?”
CHAPTER 17
CHIHUAHUA
Bishop tentatively approached his horse, dressed in a pair of jeans, cowboy boots, a plaid shirt, and a battered wide-brim hat. His mount, as he described it, was a dinosaur bred with a donkey and he was struggling to even get into the saddle let alone ride the Clydesdale-cross.
Christina sat astride her palomino watching with a broad smile. Like Bishop, she had borrowed some more appropriate clothing from the owners of the bed and breakfast ranch. “How can someone grow up in Australia and not know how to ride a horse?”
“Hey, I never rode a bloody kangaroo to school either. I grew up near the beach, not on a farm.” He slipped his boot into the stirrup, reached up, and grabbed the pommel. With a grunt he hauled himself up.
As he did the horse twisted her neck, bared her teeth and tried to bite him. “Fuck you!” yelled Bishop as he slid his leg over the mare’s back and managed to get his foot inside the other stirrup. “Did you see that? She tried to bite me.”
Christina laughed. “I’d bite you too if you tried to mount me like that.”
“I’d make sure I was wearing spurs.”
Roberto was leaning against the fence and shook his head. “Twenty miles in the saddle is going to be rough on you and that horse.”
“Tell me about it.” Bishop took up the reins and held them like he’d been shown. His horse shook her head in objection. “You sure I can’t ride different one?”
“Tinkerbell is the only one who can carry you,” said Roberto.
“Come on. It’s not like I’m heavier than you.”
“True, but I’m not going to ride that one.”
“Why not?” asked Bishop.
“Because she’s a nasty bitch. Now try walking her around a bit.”
Bishop dug his heels in slightly. “You hear that, Tink, everyone thinks you’re a bitch.” The horse braced herself on all four legs, lifted her tail, and proceeded to deposit the contents of her bowel into the dust. “Sweet mother of God.” He tucked his nose into his armpit. “What do they feed this thing, refried beans?”
Christina rode her pony alongside Tinkerbell.
“She smells better than you, Mr. Rarely Showers. Now come on, big girl, let’s go for a walk.
Tinkerbell made a snorting noise and followed Christina’s mare. Bishop held the reins limply as she lumbered along. “This is more like it. Maybe I can just stay back here all day. The view’s much better, hey Tink.”
Christina looked back over her shoulder and gave him a smile.
At that moment Bishop realized for the first time in a while he actually felt relaxed. Last night had been one of the first in a long time that was dream free. He smiled, not sure if it was Christina or maybe just the fact he was in the wilderness.
They walked the horses into the desert for half an hour before turning back to the camp. Bishop was feeling more comfortable and Tinkerbell seemed to have accepted him.
Christina maneuvered her horse next to him. “Hey cowboy, how about we try a trot?”
He shook his head vigorously. “Nooo.”
She pursed her lips seductively, slowed, and used her reins to slap Tinkerbell on the rump. “Come on!” she yelled urging them both into a fast trot.
Tinkerbell lifted her head and sprang forward as Bishop clung to the saddle’s horn. His heart pounded as she broke into the equine equivalent of a jog. It was not anywhere near as bad as he was expecting. She seemed to glide over the ground effortlessly.
Christina laughed. “See, it’s not hard.”
They brought the horses back to a walk and returned to the ranch. As they passed through the gates Bishop noticed a dust trail as someone drove away in a pickup. Roberto and Emilio were leaning on a rail watching the truck disappear into the distance.
“Something’s up,” Bishop said as he directed Tinkerbell to the stables.
Christina jumped off her horse and took Tinkerbell’s reins. “I’ll take care of these two. You go see what’s going on.”
As Bishop walked to the two men, Roberto left Emilio and pulled him aside. When they were out of earshot he spoke. “They found Carlos.”
“Where?”
“On the road to the mine. They dragged him behind a truck for miles. The only reason they knew it was him was because they found his boots.”
Bishop felt as if someone had reached into his chest and torn out his heart. The weight that had lifted from his shoulders was back, with a vengeance. “God, I’m so sorry, Roberto.”
“It’s not your fault. This is a war and in war there will always be casualties.”
He looked over at the wizened old rancher leaning against the rail. “Is Emilio alright?”
Roberto shook his head. “No, but it is to be expected. A man is not supposed to outlive his son. These people are brutal, Aden.”
“They’re animals.”
Roberto handed him a battered .38 revolver. “When we go on the ride you should take this. I will take my shotgun.”
“You don’t have any ammunition for the AK?” The rancher shook his h
ead.
Bishop checked that the cylinder of the heavy revolver was loaded. He felt naked without the body armor and assault rifle he usually carried on a PRIMAL mission. All they had was the pistol, shotgun, and Christina’s Canon 5D camera. He shoved the revolver into his pants and walked slowly across to where Emilio was staring into the desert.
“I’m sorry for your loss.” He grasped the rail with both hands. “Your son was brave. He stood and fought when others fled.”
Emilio turned to him, tears running down the creases of his weathered face. “You’re a warrior, Aden. Why do you fight?”
“For justice.”
“Then help me find justice for my son and for the families that have lost everything.”
Bishop put his hand on the man’s shoulder as he fought back his own tears. “I will.”
***
FORT BLISS, TEXAS
Howard was the first to arrive at the operations room Everest had allocated to him. It came with all the computers, screens, and comms equipment a support team needed to run a field operation. They would not be directing operatives, but the gear would allow them to communicate with the crew of the Predator drone. The room also had a refrigerator he had stacked with cans of sugar-free energy drink. He was not counting on getting much sleep in the next few days and Everest’s comment regarding sugar had struck a chord.
He sat at his new desk, put down his Starbucks Grande latte, and brushed the creases from his new chinos. Logging into the system, he projected his computer onto one of the screens on the wall. Then he opened the in-briefing he had prepared for his two new analysts.
This was the first time in his career he was going to be responsible for subordinates. He was feeling a little edgy. The knock on the door startled him and he almost tipped over his coffee.
Both his team members were waiting outside. He invited them in and they introduced themselves. Shelly, the all-source analyst, was a homely, middle-aged blonde who wore her hair in a pigtail. Ben, his signals analyst, was skinny, and in his mid-twenties.
PRIMAL Reckoning (Book 1 in the Redemption Trilogy, the PRIMAL Series Book 5) Page 14
