“Shrek, damn good to see you.” Pershing shook his hand.
“What the hell is going on here?”
“We’ve been hit by mercenaries.”
Shrek gave a whistle. “Looks like you got fucked hard.”
“You could say that. They hit us with indirect fire first then shot their way in.” He pointed to the bodies strewn around the bullet-ridden guard box.
“What’s the plan?
“I need you to hold here. It’s the only way out.”
“Will do.” Shrek issued orders to his men and they started pulling black Pelican cases from their trucks and unloading heavy weaponry.
Pershing nodded approvingly as a M240L machine gun and a Milkor grenade launcher appeared. One of the men handed him an AR carbine and a ballistic vest.
“It’s amazing what you can bring across the border when you work for the right people,” said Shrek. He signaled to two of his men and they set up defensive positions on the high ground overlooking the road. Another of his men blocked the exit with one of the armored SUVs.
“So, where are they?” the Team 2 commander asked as he surveyed the mine’s camp with a pair of binoculars.
“They’ll be in the accommodation block. We’ve captured one of their men and they want him back.”
“And where are your indigenous guys?”
Pershing reached inside the SUV and grabbed the radio mike from the console. “Burro, report your location.”
“I’ve got my men at the accommodation, Mr. Pershing.”
“Hang tight, I’ll send two of my guys in to back you up. I want you to work with them to hunt down any intruders.”
“OK, Mr. Pershing.”
Shrek nodded. “Mikey, Chris, clear through the accommodation area. The Mexicans wearing the Black Jackets are ours. You’re looking for some guy called Burro.”
“Copy that.” The two operators jumped into one of the Chevys and sped off.
Pershing pressed the radio handset. “Burro, my boys are moving to you now. They’re in a black SUV. Tell your men not to shoot at ‘em.”
“OK, Mr. Pershing. I tried to call the others at the drone farm again but they aren’t answering.”
He took a deep breath. “Forget about them. I want you to kill anyone in the mine who isn’t supposed to be here. We’ll block the exit, no one gets out.”
***
Bishop kicked open the flimsy door to one of the accommodation buildings. Moving swiftly he checked the rooms. They were empty. There were over a dozen more buildings to clear.
As he rounded a corner he almost collided with two miners dressed in florescent safety vests and hard hats. They threw their arms in the air.
“Don’t shoot, eh.” The miner had a Canadian accent.
“Where’s the prisoner?”
“Over in the guard’s accommodation.”
“Where’s that?”
The man pointed across the road. “Behind the gym.”
“Thanks. I’d get out of here if I was you. Tell your buddies.”
The miner nodded and ran in the opposite direction.
Bishop’s eyes were stinging from the thick black smoke that hung in the air. He coughed as he dashed across the road with Gerardo in tow. Behind the building marked GYM he saw an armed gunman standing next to an open door. A Black Jacket. A second man appeared dragging Roberto out of the building by his cuffed hands.
The first guard went to raise his weapon and Bishop gave him a third eye. The man leading Roberto dropped his AK and threw his hands up.
“Turn around!” He shoved the guard back through the open door, kicking his legs out from under him. With Gerardo covering he searched his pockets and found the keys to the cuffs.
“Roberto, you OK, mate?” Bishop said as he unlocked the cuffs and placed them on the Black Jacket.
“Yes. But I can’t walk far.” The rancher’s voice was hoarse.
“We’re going to get you out of here.” He thumbed the transmit button on a UHF radio attached to his chest rig.
“Emilio, we need a pickup at the other end of the accommodation.”
“OK, coming now.”
Bishop pressed his iPRIMAL and transmitted to Mirza, “I’ve got Roberto. We’re heading to the truck now.”
“Acknowledged. Be aware, you’ve got one vehicle inbound.”
“Can you cover us?”
“Negative, I’ve still got limited visibility.”
“What’s the exfil looking like? The gate open?”
“It’s blocked, at least four guys, heavily armed. You’ve got a chance if I suppress them. There’s no other way out.”
“Let’s do it,” Bishop transmitted as left the building with Roberto. The blue Dodge pickup barreled around a corner and screeched to a halt with Emilio at the wheel.
Gunfire sounded and bullets lashed the gravel and whistled through the air. Bishop sprinted behind the pickup and fired a volley of rounds in the direction of their attackers.
Dropping to the ground, he looked under the car and caught a glimpse of a gunman’s boots. Tilting the Tavor sideways he snapped off a shot, dropping the man. Another series of shots finished him off. He changed the mag and out the corner of his eye glimpsed two gunmen wearing tan chest-rigs off to his flank. As he hit the bolt release time seemed to slow. The lead man had a bead on him. The ground between them exploded into dust and they skidded to a halt, backpedaling away. They dove out of sight and Bishop glanced over his shoulder.
Gerardo gave him a grin and fired another burst from the MK48. “Covering!” he screamed. Behind him Roberto was limping to the truck. Bishop ran up and threw him over his shoulder. He lumbered back to the vehicle, threw Roberto into the back, and leaped in after him.
Gerardo fired another burst as he ran. More gunmen appeared from the buildings. He reached the truck and tossed the machine gun in the back. As he clambered over the side one of the operators with a tan chest-rig snapped off a shot. Gerardo’s head exploded, spraying Bishop in gore. The corpse seemed to cling to the vehicle for a moment before dropping into the dust.
“Fuck! GO, GO, GO!” Bishop screamed to Emilio as he slewed onto the shooter and emptied his magazine.
The truck lurched forward. He slid into the bed, grabbed the MK48 machine gun, and rested it on the tailgate. They sped through the mine’s camp and swung onto a service road, turning toward the mining operations area and gaping open-cut pit. As they left the camp, Emilio slowed and yelled out the window. “Where to now, Aden?”
“Go, just go.”
He pressed the transmit button. “Mirza, Gerardo is down. Roberto is injured. Can we still exfil?”
“Negative, Bish. More vehicles have joined the party. There’s no way you’d get past.”
An image appeared on his iPRIMAL. Five vehicles had pulled up a hundred yards short of the front gate and two-dozen Black Jackets had dismounted.
“Shit.”
Emilio brought the truck to a halt at the edge of the mine’s pit. Bishop stood up in the tray and surveyed the terrain. The road turned off to a ramp that wound down into the expansive hole. There was no way out. All sides were dominated by sheer cliffs.
“Bish, there’s some sort of standoff. The Black Jackets don’t look friendly,” Mirza transmitted.
“You reckon you can get them shooting, like we did in Japan?”
“I’ll see what I can do. You need to find a place to hide.”
Bishop had other ideas. His eyes fell on one of the huge yellow front-end loaders parked at the bottom of the pit and he banged on the roof of the truck. “Take us down there!” he yelled to Emilio.
***
Mikey and Chris had returned as the five-vehicle convoy stopped a hundred yards short of the gate. Despite being shot in the chest-plate, Chris was combat effective and took up a firing position.
Shrek passed his binoculars to Pershing.
“Cardenas,” Pershing said as he focused on the distinctive Conquest Knight armored SUV. The Chaquetas
boss’s vehicle was surrounded by four smaller trucks. Assault-rifle wielding gunmen were aiming their weapons at the mine’s security checkpoint.
At first he had thought the Black Jackets had sent reinforcements to help, but now he wasn’t so sure. Especially when Burro wasn’t answering his radio. The handset in his vehicle crackled and he walked over to it. Finally.
“Burro, where you at?”
“This is Raphael Cardenas,” came the reply.
“Raph, it’s good to see you here. I’m having a little issue with the local farmers.”
“I don’t give a fuck about your issues. You know what your fucking issue is? You tried to kill me and you failed. That’s your fucking issue.”
Pershing glanced at Shrek who wore a bemused expression. “Listen, I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. Take a look at the smoke coming from the mine and you’ll see I’ve been attacked as well. You come up here and I’ll show you who tried to kill you.”
“No, I will not. I want you to give me access to the gold storage. I will take gold as compensation, then–” Cardenas’s demands were interrupted by a series of shots cracking through the air. The radio went dead.
“What the fuck?”
A second later the Mexican gunmen opened fire and all hell broke loose. Bullets crashed into the SUV blocking the gate, ricocheting off the ballistic glass and the armored plate.
The response from Team 2 was controlled and aggressive. As Pershing dropped to the ground, the M240 started firing bursts from the high ground.
“You really pissed these fuckers off.” Shrek wore a broad grin.
Pershing shook his head. “Someone did.” He fired a series of rapid shots at the armored Conquest Knight.
“Hey, boss. You might have better luck with this.” One of Shrek’s men handed him a Milkor grenade launcher. Pershing grabbed the oversized six-shooter and unfolded the stock. He had trained on the weapon but never fired it in anger. He flicked off the safety, shouldered it, and centered the red dot on the black armored truck. The launcher kicked and he watched the grenade sail through the air and score a direct hit.
“Bang on, nice!” shouted one of the men.
Gunfire from the Black Jackets tapered off as the M240 sent them scurrying for cover. The cartel vehicles started reversing, attempting to distance themselves from the onslaught. As the Conquest Knight backed up Pershing hit it with the other five grenades. He laughed as the truck reversed haphazardly with one of its front wheels ablaze.
***
From the bottom of the mine’s pit the sounds from the battle at the gate were muted. Bishop ignored the gunfire and focused on the yellow L-2350 front end loader towering above him. He’d never seen anything like it. A gargantuan 258-ton tractor as large as a two-story house, the loader was designed to work with the equally massive dump trucks. The four wheels were three times his height, and at the front a gaping black bucket looked like it could swallow a bus.
“Leave the truck, let’s get on to this thing,” he told Emilio and Roberto. They climbed the ladder on the side, managing to get Roberto into the back of the cabin. Emilio stood guard on the rear deck, wielding the MK48 machine gun, a RPG rocket launcher slung across his back.
In the driver’s seat, Bishop frowned as he tried to make sense of the mass of buttons and switches. The central touch screen was blank, as were the video screens around the top of the cockpit.
He searched the cabin for a user guide or a start-up checklist. A booklet was wedged in the side of the front console and he flicked it open. There was a diagram showing what all the buttons did. He identified the start-up sequence, flicked some switches, turned a dial, and hit the ignition button. Behind him the huge diesel engine rumbled to life. The touchscreen in the cabin lit up as the beast came alive. Around the sides of the cabin, flat screens displayed camera feeds from around the tractor.
His earpiece crackled. “Bish, it worked. I got them fighting but it’s going to go on for a while,” Mirza transmitted. The shots in the background were louder through the radio.
“Roger, can you get to the entrance to the pit? I’ve stolen one of the loaders. We’ll pick you up on the way through.”
“The contractors are pounding the cartel guys. They’ve got heavy weapons.”
“Yep, and now I’ve got the world’s biggest Tonka tractor.”
As the engine warmed, he left the cockpit and walked out to the sloped back of the loader. A guardrail ran around the edge of the engine housing which was about the same size as the entire Dodge truck. Emilio had the machine gun resting on the rail and was staring in the direction of the gunfire.
“All good?” Bishop yelled over the rumbling exhaust.
The rancher gave a thumbs-up. Bishop responded with a reassuring smile and ducked back inside the cockpit. He checked on Roberto, huddled behind the driver’s seat. “You OK, mate?”
The rancher’s one good eye opened and he nodded.
“Right, it’s time to get us out of here.” He cracked his knuckles and settled into the driver’s seat. “OK, big girl, let’s see what you can do.”
He pulled back on the joystick that controlled the bucket and it lurched into the air with a whine. He positioned it so it was just off the ground. According to the booklet the joystick on the other side controlled the steering. As he pushed the accelerator the loader snorted and trundled forward. He moved the steering joystick and the loader changed direction.
“Bish, I’m on the move. Will be at the top of the pit in the next few minutes,” Mirza transmitted.
“Ack. It’s going to take a while to drive this thing up from the bottom.” Bishop aimed the massive digger at the ramp that wound its way from the floor of the pit to the road five levels above. It looked narrow. He got the front wheels onto the ramp. “Holy crap.” It barely fit, with only a few feet free either side. He gave the loader a little more power and started climbing. He made slight adjustments with the joystick as he watched the camera feeds around the tractor.
“Oh shit.” He overcorrected as they came close to the edge. The bucket clipped the wall of the pit tearing into rock. A gentle push on the joystick brought it back to the center and they ascended the winding ramp.
After what seemed like an eternity, he crested the pit and eased on the brakes. He searched the rocky slopes. A camouflaged shape materialized from among the boulders at the side of the road. It was Mirza. With his rifle slung across his back, he ran to the ladder and scaled the side of the loader. When he reached the cockpit Bishop gave him a nod. “Right, let’s smash some shit!”
CHAPTER 35
Pershing crouched behind his truck as he watched a drone feed on a ruggedized tablet. One of Shrek’s men sat across from him piloting the battery-powered quadcopter. It was flying over the Chaquetas Negras contingent. What was left of the cartel had sought cover behind a small hill.
“How many left?” asked Shrek.
“At least twenty. What I wouldn’t give for some air support,” replied Pershing.
“Well, we got the next best thing. Crack out the fireworks, boys.”
A black case was dragged from the back of a SUV and the lid unsnapped. An operator pulled a 60mm M6C mortar from the box. He connected the base plate and sighted it as another man unloaded a crate of bombs.
“You guys pack for everything,” said Pershing.
Shrek checked the drone feed. “Range 260 meters. Charge one, HE load.”
He watched as the contractor tore all but one of the charge rings from a mortar bomb and slid it down the tube.
“Fire!”
The operator thumbed the trigger and the round left the tube with a thump. Pershing watched the screen intently. The cartel gunmen had gathered around the armored truck and the SUVs. Cardenas was giving his orders. There was a flash and a dozen of them disappeared in a cloud of dust. The sound of the explosion rolled over the hill.
“Smack on, boys. Time to shake and bake these fuckers.”
The mortar team loa
ded another round, this time the bomb had a yellow ring around it. They fired, then reloaded and fired again.
Clouds of white smoke and burning phosphorous erupted among Cardenas and his men. The smoke and dust engulfed them all.
“Ceasefire!” Shrek yelled after ten bombs had dropped on the stricken Chaquetas.
On the drone feed Pershing could see some of the vehicles were ablaze. Only one managed to escape down the road. The Conquest Knight wasn’t moving. He glanced across the hill and watched as a white cloud plumed into the sky. Screams echoed in the distance.
Shrek pulled two long green tubes out of his vehicle. “You want the honors, George?”
Pershing nodded, taking one of the AT4 anti-armor rockets. They crested the hill until Cardenas’s big Conquest Knight came into view. Both hefted the rocket launchers to their shoulders, and fired.
One of the rockets missed, detonating in the distance. The other impacted the luxury armored vehicle square on. There was a flash and black smoke joined the still burning white phosphorous.
Pershing smiled. “I reckon you boys just earned yourself a bonus.” The sound of a diesel engine caught his attention and he turned in time to see a mammoth front end loader smashing its way through the accommodation buildings. “What the hell?”
***
Bishop slapped the touch screen in frustration. He had the accelerator planted to the floor and according to the digital display he was moving at a snail’s pace of ten miles an hour. At least the accommodation buildings weren’t slowing him down. One after another they folded like cardboard under the massive bucket.
The loader gradually gathered momentum, powering up the service road to the front gate. From his vantage point he had witnessed the last of Team 2’s battle with the Chaquetas Negras cartel. The three black SUVs at the front gate were in a defensive formation with what appeared to be a mortar team. A couple of hundred yards down the road he saw the group of SUVs were ablaze. Burning corpses littered the ground around them.
PRIMAL Reckoning (Book 1 in the Redemption Trilogy, the PRIMAL Series Book 5) Page 27
