Raul swallowed hard and nodded. “Si, señor. It does.”
“Very well then.” He turned back to his desk and sat. “But keep them at arm’s length. I want at least a five kilometer buffer between them and the militia. We can’t have our own forces shooting at each other, can we?”
“No, señor. That is a wise move.”
“Go then. Relay my orders.” He sat back in his chair and watched as Raul hurriedly left the office. He spun the chair slowly and peered across the shallow valley to the lush hillsides across from them. “Call in all of your markers if you dare. But, you have no idea what you are getting yourself into, Mr. Bridger.”
19
MacDill AFB, Florida
* * *
Gregg Soares stared at the specs of the swarm drones and couldn’t wipe the smile from his face. “I know this sounds like I’m pulling your leg, but I actually dreamt up an idea like this years back when civilian drones first became a thing.” He looked up at Mauk and his face fell. “Then I saw some movie where they actually had this same idea and I refused to play second fiddle to some hack Hollywood screen writer’s fantasy.”
Mauk crossed his thick arms over his chest and scoffed. “Let me guess, they stole your idea, Napster?”
Gregg groaned and sat back in his chair. “Don’t even.” He leaned forward again and tapped the specs into his computer. “Actually, no. My idea was to load the tiny fuselage with high explosives and use them as a sort of…flying mine field.” He tapped in the last of the specs and hit ENTER. “The movie kind of played off the same idea but they used HE to launch a projectile into somebody’s head. Like a barrel-less gun. But with wings.” He grinned again. “Either way, same result. Dead bad guy.”
“Or dead good guy,” Lisa added as she stared at the specs. “You sure you can control these things?” She narrowed her gaze at him. “I am NOT going out because of your lack of programming skills.”
Gregg gave her a hurt look. “Seriously? You think I’m that inept?” He clutched at his chest. “You wound me. Truly.”
“Straighten up,” Bridger barked. “Can you do it, Slip?”
Gregg nodded slightly. “Easy peasy. Especially if we get the IFF from your new bestie. If Blake comes through with the transponders for us, then it’s as simple as sicking these little fuckers after random heat signatures that don’t have the IFF.”
Lisa groaned. “So I’m putting my life on the line over a small piece of military hardware. Great.”
“Not JUST some small piece of military hardware,” Gregg added. “But an untested small piece of military hardware that was built by a civilian contractor with no skin in the game.”
Mauk smiled as he added insult to injury. “And also, the civilian contractor that was the lowest bidder on that particular order.”
Lisa groaned animatedly. “You’re not making this easier.”
“If it was easy, anybody could do it,” Bridger grunted. He stared at Slippy. “How soon would it take you to hack this shit?” He glanced at Mauk, then Lisa. “Blake says he can’t ‘give’ it to us. We have to steal it.”
Slippy shrugged. “So. Wouldn’t be the first time we took something that didn’t belong to us to use against Uncle Sam’s enemies.”
“He said that the drones themselves are useless without the controllers.” He raised a brow. “They have hardly any security. The controllers, on the other hand…”
“Let me guess,” Lisa added. “Locked up in a secure vault somewhere that only the brass can access?”
Bridger nodded.
Slippy spun his laptop around and smiled. “All I need is a control interface and I’m ready. I’ve got their specs, my transmitter is keyed to their frequencies…”
“So what are you saying?” Mauk asked.
“I’m saying, go get something to eat and by the time you get back, I’ll have a control interface mocked up that even a caveman could understand.” He glanced at Mauk and pouted. “I guess that means that you’ll have to study REAL hard to figure it out.”
“Fuck you, too,” Mauk grumbled as he turned for the door. “I got your caveman hanging right here.” He cupped his crotch and shook it at Gregg.
“Beat it.” Gregg waved him off. “I’m working here.”
“You heard the man.” Bridger came to his feet and reached for the door. “Be back in two hours.”
“What happens then?” Lisa asked.
Bridger fought the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Then we steal a couple million dollars’ worth of assassin drones and skip town.”
Mauk grunted. “Somebody better tell Laughlin. I’m not really fond of the fucker, but I’d hate to leave him swinging in the wind with a pissed off military.”
Bridger glanced through the reinforced glass wall and spotted Blake in his office. “Something tells me that not all of them will be pissed.”
Langley Virginia
* * *
Robert Ingram, Acting Director of the NSA’s F6 Division stepped off of the elevator just as Director Jameson pressed the button. “You’re just the man I need to speak with.”
Jameson feigned surprise. “Whatever for, Robert?”
“I think you know why.” Ingram crossed his arms and stared at him stoically.
Jameson sighed then turned back towards his office. “Fine. Follow me.” The pair crossed through the secretary’s “buffer zone” and Jameson pushed open his office door. He waited until the door was shut, blocking sound to the exterior then turned on the younger man. “This had better be important for you to use that tone with me.”
“Why would you have me call in favors to get you an armed UAV over Mexican air space if you were going to undercut me?”
Jameson set his briefcase down carefully and gave the man a blank look. “I’m not certain I follow.”
Ingram’s jaw quivered slightly as he continued. “I reached out to my sources only to find out that another U.S. governmental agency was laying the ground work for a cartel WAR!” He clenched his jaw and glared at the older man. “Why didn’t you bring me in on your little plan before sending me out there to deal with this with my own assets?”
Jameson sighed and sat on the edge of his desk. “To be honest, Robert, I didn’t think you had it in you to get the job done.” He pulled his glasses off and absently cleaned them with a handkerchief. “So I did what I thought was best.”
“By starting a war within the cartels themselves?”
“What better way to get what we want without directing attention our way?” He slid his glasses back into place and took a deep breath. “We get air support for our future asset, ensure his teams safety, and in return, we have complete deniability.”
Ingram’s jaw quit twitching and he narrowed his gaze at the man. “And what does this anonymity cost us?”
Jameson shrugged slightly. “A few munitions.” He stifled a fake yawn. “Maybe a drone.”
“A drone?” Ingram’s eyes widened. “You want to give a Colombian drug lord, rooted in the mountains of Mexico just south of our border, a fucking drone?”
“I didn’t say it would be a good one.” Jameson smiled. “Look, Robert, when dealing with people of this caliber, one expects a certain amount of…distrust.”
“You plan to back out on the deal?”
Jameson chuckled, “Of course not. No, when dealing with a foreign asset, even an asset as unpredictable as a cartel leader, one must keep up one’s end of the bargain.” He slid from the corner of his desk and stepped around the edge, sitting gently in the overstuffed leather chair. “However, as no detailed ‘clarifications’ were specified…who is to say what kind of drone they might receive?”
“You’re gonna rear end them on a technicality?” Ingram chuckled as he fell into the chair opposite. “That sounds an awful lot like playing with fire.”
“I am an active Director within the CIA. Do you really think that some drug cartel thug is going to be able to reach me?”
Ingram leaned forward and
raised a brow. “They’ve bought entire cities south of here. They’ve bought politicians, police forces, hell, they’ve even bought off large chunks of the military. Do you really think that you’re untouchable?”
Jameson shook his head slightly. “I didn’t say untouchable, Robert. But if they feel that I am beholden to them in some small way, isn’t that worth something?”
“Probably not as much as a dedicated UAV.”
“True.” Jameson smiled again. “But where will they get the armaments for that machine? The pilot interface? The training to operate it?” He shook his head again. “I can supply them with a drone. It won’t be shiny and new and it won’t be armed, but it will fly. If they can figure out how and get someone qualified to do it.”
Ingram came to his feet. “That still doesn’t explain why you cut me out. You should have told me the groundwork you were laying.”
“Perhaps.” Jameson came to his feet and picked up his jacket and briefcase again. “But I couldn’t be certain that my plan would pan out. It really was a shot in the dark.”
Ingram clenched his jaw and nodded slightly. “Well, from my resources, it certainly sounds like your plan worked. The same officers that owed me, regretfully informed me that their assets would not be available for the immediate future.” He locked eyes with Jameson again. “And from what my sources outside the military are saying, it was the cartel that hired them.”
Jameson broke into a toothy grin. “So you see, Robert, everything works out for those who do good. We are in the clear, we have plausible deniability, and the assets we want protected shall be. Sounds like a win-win to me.”
Near Chapala Mexico
* * *
Raul led the way through the dank tunnel system with an LED torch in one hand and a crude hand drawn map in the other. “At the next Y, we should go right.”
El jefe bristled as the packed earth left reddish brown streaks across the bottom of his white linen trousers. “I wish I had known they were in such a state of disrepair.”
“Señor, nobody has been down here in years.” Raul swiped at a root hanging at eye level. “Since you bought the federales, we have not had to use these.” He stopped and shone the beam ahead. “Some of them have collapsed.” He pointed the torch to the ceiling of the tunnel. “Without supports, I do not think it is safe to continue.”
El Fantasma sighed animatedly and turned around, pointing his own torch behind them. “What about the other direction? If we had gone left?”
Raul studied the map again and nodded. “Si. It’s a much longer way, but it takes us to the airfield.”
“Then that is the way we should try. If it comes to making an escape, I would much rather it be by air.”
Raul stepped in front of him. “Señor, go back to the hacienda. I will send people down here to clear the paths. You do not need to be here. It isn’t safe.”
He gave Raul a reassuring smile and squeezed his shoulders. “I needed to see the condition of the tunnels, mi hermano. I need to know what to expect if the worst should come to pass.”
Raul nodded as he stepped out of the way. “I shall have them mark the safest way.” He watched el jefe retreat through the tunnels the way they had come. “If it’s possible, I’ll have them shore the walls and clear the debris.”
El Fantasma paused and turned to face him. “Actually, once they have cleared the paths…” he smiled to himself, “have them mark the least safe path.”
“Señor?”
With a chuckle, he explained, “Mark the least safest path. A decoy. In case somebody decides to follow us.” He raised a brow at the smaller man. “Make sure that they are bright and big and too obvious to ignore.”
Raul broke into a toothy grin. “Si, señor. Another wise decision.”
20
MacDill AFB, Florida
* * *
“Somebody please explain this to me again. Just, a little slower this time.” Laughlin leaned forward in his seat and tried to pay more attention.
“Christ,” Mauk groaned. “You’d have never made it in the field.”
Laughlin’s voice betrayed the worry he felt. “Just humor me. Explain to me again what we’re stealing and why.”
Bridger sighed heavily then turned to Slippy. “He needs visual aids.”
Gregg held a finger up. “One more moment…”
DJ felt the need to poke the bear. “I thought you were gonna write this program while we went to chow?”
“I think Sir Slippyfist is losing his touch,” Lisa added as she fell into a chair next to him. “Is that PacMan?”
“Knock it off,” Bridger growled. “Slip?”
“Got it.” He punched the enter button one last time and the computer began to restart, initiating his control interface program as it did.
“Just tell me,” Laughlin groaned. “I don’t need pictures.”
“This will help.” Slippy spun his computer around as it began to come back to life. “Note the specs that are displayed here.” He clicked on the box and it enlarged, bringing up the digital images of the mini assassin drones. “This is what we’re stealing.”
Laughlin leaned forward and stared at the images. “Okay. Why?”
Bridger sat next to him and draped a huge arm over his shoulders. “Those are killer bees…more or less. A hornet’s nest.” He pointed to the diagram. “Carries eleven 9MM rounds and has just enough C4 in the underbelly to make a grenade jealous.”
Laughlin swallowed hard. “Okay.” He stared out at the others cautiously. “And why are we stealing these?”
Mauk pushed the latest reconnaissance images across the table. The infrared were the most enlightening. “Murillo has hired an army.”
“Murillo’s dead. I’ve told you this a hundred times,” Laughlin shot back.
“Fine.” Mauk pushed the photos closer. “Then Murillo’s ghost hired a fucking army.”
Laughlin finally picked up the images and studied each with shaky hands. “Oh, no. No…” He dropped the photos. “That’s it then. This is a suicide mission.”
“That’s why we’re stealing these.” Bridger tapped at the screen. “We set Slippy and Mauk as overwatch along the ridges. Slippy uses the drones to remove the threats on the outside and Mauk picks off anybody that dares to show themselves in a window or doorway.”
“And the four of us storm the castle?” Laughlin’s voice was a bit higher than he would have preferred. “That’s insane!”
“We’ve run the gauntlet a dozen times here in the mockup,” Lisa deadpanned.
“But we can’t know where the bad guys actually ARE inside there,” Laughlin continued.
“We improvise.” Bridger stood and stared down at him. “Or you can go home and my team will take care of this without you.”
Laughlin felt his hands shaking again but it wasn’t from fear. The anger built up inside of him until he thought it would cause him to do something stupid. Instead, he stood slowly and set his jaw. “So when do we do this?”
Bridger felt the corner of his mouth start to rise into a smile. “Prep the jet. Tell the pilot we’ll be taking off in an hour.” He turned to Mauk. “You and Lisa get our shit stowed and make sure the IFF equipment is all on the same frequencies.”
“What about me?” Gregg asked.
“Get your ass to the plane.” Bridger broke into a toothy grin. “You’re gonna fly the swarm to the plane and we’ll make sure they have a full charge before we land.”
Gregg did a double take. “How am I gonna steal the swarm if I’m on the plane?”
Bridger turned to DJ. “Once he and I take the door off the secure storage, you’ll activate them and fly them to you.” He turned and looked at the others. “There’s no way we can carry that many drones to and from the plane without getting caught. Our best chance is for Slip to program their flight and have them come to us.”
DJ began to chuckle and slowly came to his feet. “Top, that’s either the craziest or the most brilliant idea I’ve heard
in a long damned time.”
“Let’s go with that one.” Laughlin turned for the door. “One hour.”
“One hour,” Bridger reiterated. As Laughlin walked away he turned back to Lisa. “Before you stow our gear, make a call.”
Her eyes narrowed at him. “To?”
“You still friends with Diego?”
Her eyes went wide and she gave him a shocked look. “The last time we dealt with him, he tried to double cross us.”
“And we let him live, so he owes us one.” Bridger’s jaw was set. She knew what that meant.
She shrugged slowly. “I can try.” She pulled her cell from her vest pocket. “What do we want him to do?”
“Make sure we have a ride waiting at the tarmac.”
Langley Virginia
* * *
Robert Ingram pushed open the door to Director Jameson’s office. “Did you get the same call?”
Jameson sighed heavily and pressed the button to darken his computer screen. “I did.” He removed his reading glasses and leaned back in his chair. “Don’t you have your own office to be at?”
“They’re about to take off.” Robert pulled the chair out and sat down. “We should prepare, shouldn’t we?”
“For what, exactly?”
Ingram fought the urge to yell, duh. “To observe. Surely part of the deal was to stream us a live feed?”
Jameson felt his chest tighten as the idea that Ingram was one step ahead of him settled into the back of his mind. “No, Robert. I did not make that ‘part of the deal.’ I saw no reason to—”
“How can we be assured of their actions? If one of our assets are killed and it’s because of their actions, then—”
It was Jameson’s turn to interrupt. “Then we’ll still have plausible deniability.” His voice rose in volume as his anger and frustration became evident. “I’ve been in this game a hell of a lot longer than you have, Robert, and I assure you, assets are capable of doing what needs doing without the two of us micromanaging their every fucking move!”
Burning Bridges Page 13
