Burning Bridges

by Heath Stallcup

  “I was going to say that he survived interrogation.” Slippy slowly sat back down. “So, he’s a bona fide good guy.”

  Bridger nodded. “Otherwise he’d be pushing up daisies.”

  “So the whole ‘forgive and forget’ thing?”

  Bridger shrugged. “Was already forgiven and forgotten. I just wanted a ride from the airport and knew that he had set up shop close by.”

  Slippy slowly began to smile. “And you wanted an extra trigger on this op.”

  Bridger shrugged again. “It couldn’t hurt.” He abruptly stood and pushed the chair back. “Besides, with Mauk acting as overwatch, you’re gonna need somebody to cover your six while you’re driving the hornets.”

  Slippy groaned and turned back to his station. “That’s a big if I can get all of this coordinated.”

  Bridger’s face twisted in confusion again. “Why’d you say ‘if?’”

  Slippy leaned back and stretched his neck. “I’m going to have to run two computers. I thought that I could control all of them from one, but there are too many and the processing power just isn’t there to handle forty drones.”

  “I thought they were AI assisted.”

  “They are, but for that we’d have to upload the target ID package. Facial recognition, telemetry, all of that. There’s enough internal storage on a drone to do that, but the only IDs we have are our own. The IFF will protect our side, but I can’t find a work-around to just set them loose and sic’ em on the other heat signatures.” He sighed and rubbed at his eyes. “If it were that simple, then we could just release them in the wild and walk away. They’d eventually clean them all out.”

  Bridger groaned. “You have to drive each of them individually?”

  Slippy shrugged. “Not…exactly.” He sighed and turned the computer screen to him. “I’m gonna set this up like a system test. A trial run, okay?” He tapped at the keys then leaned back. “The drones will search and destroy using IR readings. If there’s somebody out there with body temperature, they’ll see it, they’ll approach it in stealth mode and they’ll fire a suppressed round into their skull.” He tapped the silhouette of a human. “Or chest, if the head isn’t clear.”

  “So if they’re wearing body armor…” Bridger trailed off.

  Slippy nodded. “Exactly. They’ll shoot the chest then look for the next target. A subsonic nine millimeter slug won’t penetrate.”

  “A standard nine mil won’t penetrate,” Bridger groaned. “So what’s the plan?”

  “I have to read the target’s reaction as each drone strikes. If they go for a head shot, I can release them to the next heat signature.”

  “What if they’re wearing a helmet?”

  “It will show on the playback. The drones are programmed to identify something like that and aim for the base of the skull or the neck.” He grimaced. “Not exactly an instant kill, but it should be effective enough to do the job.”

  “Unless they miss the spine, then the target can pop off a few rounds, alerting the others.”

  Slippy nodded. “That’s also a possibility.” He groaned as he turned back to the screen. “We’ve never used these. They’re untested in a real life scenario, and there are just too many variables for me to trust them to a single computer.”

  “So, you’re going to be pretty deep in the rabbit hole during this phase.”

  Slippy actually snorted a laugh. “That’s putting it mildly.” He glanced around then whispered, “I’m thinking seriously of popping a few Ritalin before this shit starts…just don’t tell my boss. He’s a hard ass. Especially when it comes to performance enhancing drugs.”

  Bridger frowned at him as he slowly stood again. “I’ll keep your secret this time.” He leaned closer and growled low, “But let’s not make a habit of this.”

  “Me?” Slippy popped off as he reached for a Red Bull. “Never.”

  Langley Virginia

  * * *

  Director Jameson stood directly behind the technician as the man typed commands into his console. “Let’s narrow the view.”

  The technician typed more information in and the image on the screen zoomed in on the general area. “How tight, sir?”

  “I want a ten kilometer diameter. Can we detect heat signatures at that distance?”

  The tech shook his head as he typed again. “I can’t be certain, sir. I’m sure we could, but the ambient temperature for that area will make it hard to…” He paused then leaned to the side so the man could have a better view. “Apparently we can.”

  Jameson leaned closer and stared at the screen. “I don’t suppose there’s any way to filter out the wildlife?”

  “We need at least an eight degree difference in core body temperature for the filters to be effective, sir.” He typed in the variants and waited as the screen reset. “It didn’t clean up much, Director. I’m sorry.”

  Jameson sighed as he stared at the image. “What is this empty space?” He made a circle with his fingers between the heat signatures around the outer perimeter and the heavier concentrations closer to the compound.

  The tech shrugged. “A buffer zone maybe?” He rested his chin on his hand and leaned closer, studying the image. “If I were to guess, there are two layers of defense.”

  Jameson concurred. “So our team has to get through both zones to reach the compound actual?”

  “There could be anything in this buffer zone, sir. Landmines, automated defenses…anything.”

  “Or nothing.” Jameson pulled up a chair beside the tech and sat down, his eyes studying the screen. “How long can we keep this satellite tasked?”

  The tech typed commands again then pointed to the number in the corner. “Approximately four hours, sir. This is a slower orbiting bird, and we’ve caught the zone on approach.”

  Jameson blew his breath out hard and glanced at the clock on the wall. “That should be plenty of time. I want you to keep this running, and ping me if there’s any kind of activity.”

  “Understood, sir.”

  He stood and slipped his coat back on before marching to the steel security doors. He glanced at his watch once more then turned down the hallway and toward the war room where Ingram was waiting.

  He entered the war room and found Ingram sitting directly in the chairs behind the techs, his eyes focused on the blank screens above. “I suppose it could be any time now.”

  “The satellite is tasked. At the first sign of activity, the tech will relay it here.”

  Ingram gave him a confused look. “Why not broadcast it now?”

  Jameson gave him a knowing smile. “Because your full attention would be on the screen and your nerves would be shot before the battle ever begins.” He sat down heavily next to him and sighed. “Trust me. I’ve watched enough of these to know that it’s best to ignore it until the fecal matter actually hits the atmospheric oscillator.”

  Near Chapala, Mexico

  * * *

  Raul slept fitfully in the chair beside the window while el jefe stared out across the inky blackness. “You should rest.”

  He turned and gave a wan smile to Miguel. “I could not possibly sleep.”

  Miguel gave him a concerned look. “You aren’t using your own product, are you, Jefe?”

  He snorted a laugh and shook his head. “No, amigo, this is nervous anticipation.” He took a deep breath of the cooling night air and let it out slowly. “I will be attacked on two fronts very soon.”

  “You know that the gringos will come at you from two different directions?”

  El jefe laughed and sat down slowly on the steps leading up to the deck. “No. I mean that two different enemies want my head.”

  “Two, señor?”

  He nodded slowly. “The Sinaloa come for me as well.” He turned and raised a brow at his enforcer. “They are hiring the federales to do their dirty work.”

  “But, señor, you have an agreement with them. All of the cartels have sworn to set aside their differences to maintain profits.” H
e shook his head in confusion. “Why would they come for you now?”

  El jefe shook his head slowly. “I cannot say, Miguel. But I know that something has changed. I cannot get any of the cartel heads to return my calls.”

  “Surely the gringos aren’t behind this.”

  El jefe shook his head. “No, they don’t have that kind of reach. Besides, if the heads knew who the gringos were, they would hunt them down themselves.” He gave him a crooked smile. “Back when we all were in Colombia, they had discovered and were constantly attacking the supply lines of us all. They cost everyone a lot. Blood and money.”

  Then, señor, you should tell the other cartel heads. Let them pool their resources and kill the gringos for you.”

  “I cannot allow that.” He sighed heavily and lowered his gaze. “They are responsible for Teresa. I swore to avenge her myself,” he turned hard eyes to him, “and I will.”

  Miguel sat silently for a moment before glancing back towards the office. “And what of Raul? Did he not at least attempt to make peace with the other cartels?”

  “They would not take his calls. They will not speak to us at all.”

  Miguel hiked a brow. “And you trust Raul’s word?”

  El jefe gave him a confused look. “Why would I not? He has been by my side since don Murillo.”

  Miguel sighed heavily and glanced back once more. “It just seems to me that the other dons all respect you. They have all upheld their ends of the agreement. It is only recently…” he paused, searching for the correct words, “when the gringos became your focus…”

  “Say what you mean, Miguel.”

  The big man sighed again and lowered his eyes. “Forgive me, Jefe. I spoke out of turn.”

  He gave him a solemn look. “Speak your mind.”

  Miguel nodded gently. “Once your attention was focused on the gringos and avenging Teresa, suddenly the other heads no longer wish to uphold their end of the agreement. The Sinaloa suddenly decide to attack?” He gave him a confused look. “Since when do the Sinaloa think they are stronger than you, Jefe?”

  “And you think that Raul is behind this?”

  Miguel gave an exaggerated shrug. “Who else would lead in your place? If the great Fantasma suddenly is killed…who better to pick up the pieces? The Sinaloa wouldn’t know your day to day operations.” He leaned closer and practically whispered, “Who is the one person who could fill your shoes and keep everything running smoothly?”

  His words struck deeper than any blade could have. Suddenly things seemed less clear and El Fantasma found himself questioning who he could truly trust. “There may be a nugget of truth in your words, Miguel.”

  The big man slowly came to his feet. “I hope that I am wrong, Jefe. I am not a trusting man at heart.” He glanced back at the office and the soft snoring coming through the window. “Perhaps you shouldn’t concern yourself with my thoughts.” He chuckled to himself as he grabbed the handrail for the steps. “I am usually wrong about such things anyway.”

  “Yet you trust Ricardo.” El jefe’s face was stoic. “You aren’t as suspicious of his intentions.”

  Miguel shrugged. “I’ve known him most of my life.” He gave him a slight smile. “As you have known Raul for so long, yes?” He bowed slightly. “I still have work to do, and it will be morning before we know it. Excuse me, señor.”

  He watched the large enforcer tromp down the steps and disappear into the darkness. El Fantasma turned and stared at the inky black window that led to his office. “Perhaps I do not know you as well as I thought.”

  26

  Near Chapala, Mexico

  * * *

  Diego grunted as the truck bounced over a rut cutting across the dirt road. “We’ve only a few kilometers left.” He turned and tugged at the flap again, staring into the near total blackness. “Yeah, we’re under the canopy now. Soon the ride will get VERY rough and—” His words were cut off as the truck made a sharp right and the sounds of tall grass and low brush scraped the bottom of the chassis.

  “How close can he get us?” Bridger asked as he bounced around the rear.

  “Just shy of the ridge your sniper will set up on.” Diego finally came to his feet and gripped the top bow to steady himself. He kept his knees bent to absorb the larger bounces. “There’s a solid gap in the federale forces. They’ve secured the main roads and the two dirt roads leading to the hacienda. My man verified earlier that they haven’t expanded into the jungle.”

  Bridger gripped the overhead bow and glanced at his watch. “That gives us roughly two hours to prep the drones, set the overwatch and infiltrate.” He turned and eyed his group under the weak red light of the troop carrier. “I want all of your gear checked and double checked.”

  The crew all acknowledged before he turned his attention back to Diego. “You don’t have to do this. This isn’t your fight.”

  Diego gave him a wan smile. “I told Sparrow that if you let me back in, I was ‘in.’ I don’t go back on my word.”

  Bridger sighed and lowered his voice as he leaned closer. “You kept your word in Colombia. You didn’t give us up.”

  Diego scoffed. “That was just doing my job.” He seemed to grow taller and squared his shoulders. “This is finishing what we started.”

  Laughlin worked his way forward, avoiding the bouncing gear and trying to ignore the truck groaning as it traveled off road. “Sorry to interrupt,” he stepped closer to the two men, “and for listening…” He gave Bridger a knowing look. “But if you help us pull this off, I can get you out of here. Help you get set up in the states, if you prefer.”

  Bridger turned and gave him a stern look. “Don’t promise what you can’t deliver.”

  Laughlin snorted. “I have a company jet coming to get us…IF we survive this. I can bring back whoever the hell I want.”

  Diego shook his head slowly. “This has become my home. I have…interests here.” He gave Laughlin a curt nod. “But I appreciate the offer.”

  “If word gets out that you were involved here…” Laughlin began, leaving the idea to fester.

  Diego shrugged. “That I helped the Americans attack a cartel Don? One that had already tried to kill them?” He snorted a laugh. “The other Dons will probably fight over hiring me for helping take out their competition.”

  “What about the federales?” Bridger asked.

  “The ones who are on the cartels’ payrolls will already be here. Those who aren’t won’t care what happens to the corrupt ones.” He used his free hand to clasp Bridger on the shoulder. “Trust me, amigo. If I thought I couldn’t handle it, I would gladly take Matthew’s offer. But if you think that my moving to another country would prevent the cartels from reaching me if they wanted?” He shook his head.

  “Right.” Bridger couldn’t argue.

  “The offer stands,” Laughlin held a hand out and Diego took it, “if you change your mind.”

  “Gracias.”

  The truck lurched to a stop, and escaping air hissed as the driver set the parking brake and shut off the engine. Those in the back swayed as they tried to get their feet back under them and made their way to the rear.

  Slippy hit the ground and reached for the closest crate. “Give me thirty minutes, and I’ll be ready to station.”

  Bridger gripped Diego’s black BDU blouse and pulled him close. “I’m sure you can still handle yourself in a fire fight,” he began.

  “You damned straight I can.”

  He pointed to Gregg flipping open the computers and bringing them to life. “That guy right there is our best bet for getting out of this alive. I have Mauk setting up overwatch, but he can’t cover the perimeter of the compound AND watch Slip’s back.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I would appreciate it if you would.”

  “Bridger…” Diego groaned. “I am made for more than this.”

  “I don’t doubt it.” He pulled him aside and lowered his voice. “But if you don’t do it, I have to pull
one of the others out and have them do it. We’ve trained for this operation. We know the layout of the building and have a pretty damned good idea where the choke points are, and where his men will be set up.” He raised a brow at Diego. “If you go in their place, you’re going in blind and with zero intel.”

  Diego narrowed his gaze at the larger man. “Then I team with you and cover your six.”

  Bridger shook his head. “Or I convince you to stay along the outer marker and keep Slippy alive.”

  Gregg’s head popped up when he heard his voice. “Yes! I like that idea. Let’s keep Slippy alive.” He ducked his head back down and continued tapping at his keyboard. “There are way too many women out there who haven’t slapped my face yet.”

  Diego groaned and leaned against the rear of the truck as the others continued to unload the drones and munitions. “You are asking me to sit out the very fight I have brought you to.”

  “I am asking you to keep our air support alive and kicking and cover our escape.” He slapped the side of the truck. “Once this is over, this is our way out of here.”

  Diego cursed in Spanish and spun a slow circle. “Fine. I will babysit your computer gook and—”

  “GEEK!” Slippy yelled. “Computer GEEK.”

  Diego gave him a sour look. “Your computer geek.”

  “And once we’ve killed Murillo’s ghost, cover our escape,” Bridger added.

  “Yes, yes. Cover your ass as you run away.” Diego kicked at the moist ground and turned away. “But now you will owe ME one.”

  Bridger gave him a crooked smile. “Cover his six and I’ll gladly owe you one.”

  Near Chapala, Mexico

  * * *

  El Fantasma sat on the stairs leading to the deck and stared across the small valley. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness and the moon lit up the lavish grounds of the estate, enough that he could make out some of the militia making rounds beyond the gate.