Burning Bridges

by Heath Stallcup

  28

  Near Chapala, Mexico

  * * *

  Bridger dropped two more cartel enforcers and spun left, peering past the carnage to clear the room. “Clear!”

  DJ emerged from the room on the opposite side of the hallway. “Clear.”

  The pair both turned to continue down the long hallway when Bridger’s IFF warning chimed. “Sparrow, report!”

  “On your right,” Lisa’s voice echoed in his ear.

  DJ smiled when he heard more shots being fired and the telltale sound of bodies crumpling to the ground. “I hope she’s keeping Laughlin alive.” He changed magazines and grinned at Bridger. “I’d hate to have to walk home.”

  “Truth be told, I’m holding my own, thank you,” Laughlin announced as they rounded the corner. “South and west sides are cleared.”

  Bridger slowly rose to his full height and checked his weapon. “North and east sides clear.” He paused and glanced at his team. “Anybody catch site of this ghost?”

  Lisa shrugged. “They’re not exactly wearing name tags.”

  Bridger growled low in his throat and pursed his lips. “Something tells me this isn’t over.”

  “Incoming!” Mauk announced over coms. “Fucker got past me, Vulture.”

  Bridger spun and trotted back to the main doors. He leveled his barrel on the double doors as the team stacked around him. They listened as heavy boots stomped up the wooden steps and stumbled across the wooden deck.

  The double doors flew open and a haggard looking, filth-covered man fell face first onto the polished wooden floors.

  “Hold!” Bridger yelled, shocking the intruder as his team closed in to secure him. “Pick him up.”

  The man stared at the gringos with wide eyes, shaking his head as he struggled against their combined grip. “No! No, no, no!!”

  “Hablas English?” Bridger barked.

  The frightened man shook his head. “No!”

  He glanced to Lisa who stepped closer. “Ask him who this ghost is.”

  Lisa translated, for what good it did. “He doesn’t know. He was hired by the militia to guard this place. He’s never even seen him.”

  Bridger snarled at the man. “Then he’s no good to us.”

  “Bridger, he’s unarmed,” Lisa stated as he turned to walk away.

  “So was Rob when they rolled his Jeep over his chest.” He disappeared around the corner and the three operators all looked to each other.

  DJ shrugged. “He didn’t exactly order us to kill him.”

  Lisa nodded. “He just said he was of no use to us.”

  Laughlin pulled his side arm and shot the man in the temple before turning and going after Bridger.

  “Jeezus!” Lisa yelled. “Why’d you do that?”

  “He was the enemy,” Laughlin deadpanned. He paused at the corner and gave them a confused look. “You coming?”

  DJ dropped the body and trotted after him. “That was cold.”

  “I swear, I’m hating him more every day,” Lisa grumbled.

  The trio caught up to Bridger standing on the rear porch. “We would have seen him if he’d left.”

  “Who? The ghost?” DJ asked.

  Bridger nodded. “Nobody has come or gone since we staged on the ridge.” He glanced into the thick vegetation. “How could he have…” He trailed off then slowly turned and stared at the building. “He’s still inside.”

  “We cleared the entire building,” Laughlin stated.

  “Did we?” Bridger stepped forward, reaching for the door. “Did we check under the beds? In the closets?” He paused and a slow smile formed. “BEHIND the closets?”

  Lisa shook her head. “Secret passageways? You’ve been reading too much James Bond.”

  “This is a drug cartel leader’s house. You think he wouldn’t have some kind of contingency plan?”

  Langley Virginia

  * * *

  “And so it has begun,” Jameson stated blandly. He sat forward and motioned to the satellite tech. “Are you prepared?”

  The tech nodded. “Yes, sir. Primed and ready, sir.”

  “What’s going on?” Ingram asked, suddenly very nervous.

  Jameson came to his feet and walked around the short aisle of seats. “We are about to ensure the safety of our asset, Robert.”

  “Tracking a UAV, inbound from the east, sir,” another tech announced.

  “Very well.” Jameson pulled his coat on and adjusted the lapels. “Once it’s within range of the compound, you have a go.”

  “What the hell is going on?” Ingram asked as he stumbled around the observation chairs.

  “Watch and learn, Robert.” Jameson couldn’t help but allow a slight grin. “We may not have been able to call off the Mexican drone, but we can certainly still ensure that our asset isn’t killed.”

  The pair moved closer to the tech station and watched as the satellite tracked the incoming drone. “Closing, sir.”

  “Distance?”

  “Fifty kilometers. Optimal firing range in thirty seconds.”

  “Don’t give them the opportunity,” Jameson replied flatly.

  “We could go ahead and…SHIT!” the second tech yelled before scrambling at her station. “They’ve launched!”

  “What?!” Jameson pushed in closer and stared at the screen. “Can you shoot it down?”

  “It’s too fast, sir.” The tech glanced back at him. “We can still drop the drone.”

  “Will somebody tell me what the hell is going on here?!” Ingram screamed.

  Jameson felt his mouth go dry as he took a half step back, his eyes glued to the screen. “They were about to destroy the drone…with a laser.” He turned and stared at him blankly. “From the satellite.”

  “They can do that?” Ingram asked.

  Jameson turned back and watched as the air to surface missile closed on the target. “Yes, Robert. They could.” He shook his head. “But it’s too late now.”

  Near Chapala, Mexico

  * * *

  Diego pressed his hand to the earpiece tighter. “Fuck me!” He turned to Slippy and yelled, “They’ve shot a missile! It’s headed here!”

  Slippy felt his blood run cold as he keyed his coms. “Bridger! Incoming missile!” He waited for a response and his head swiveled, looking for a vapor trail in the early sunrise.

  “Christ, Bridger, get out of there!” Diego yelled into the coms.

  Both men stared in horrified fascination as a streak zipped through the shallow valley and the compound below erupted into a massive fireball. Shards of wood, steel and glass flew in all directions.

  Even at their elevation, the two men had to throw themselves to the ground to avoid being peppered with missiled projectiles.

  Once the dust settled and debris stopped raining from the sky, Slippy slowly rose up, his eyes scanning the crater below. “Mother…”

  “Fucker,” Mauk finished for him. Both men turned and saw him standing over their position, his sniper rifle cradled in his arms. “They didn’t stand a chance.”

  Slippy slumped beside his computers and stared in shock. “What…what do we do now?”

  Mauk took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “We muster at the campsite. If any of them somehow made it through, that’s where they’ll go.”

  Diego shook his head. “We should go down there and look for them.” He swallowed nervously. “They could be hurt.”

  Mauk shook his head. “If they were down there when that thing hit, trust me, there’s nothing to find.” He blew his breath out forcefully to keep his voice from cracking. “We can only hope that they did what needed doing and are working their way back through the jungle.”

  Slippy gave him a knowing look. “They’re not on coms.”

  Mauk nodded. “I know.”

  Near Chapala, Mexico

  * * *

  Raul fell against the wall of the tunnel as dirt and debris rained down from the ceiling. “Señor, they are bombing us!”

&
nbsp; El jefe pressed an arm against a thick wooden brace to steady himself then cursed as the lights flickered, faded and went out. “Si, hermano. That would be the federales doing the Sinaloa’s dirty work for them.” He stared into the inky blackness of the tunnel then ground his teeth together. “I thought there was a generator!”

  “There is, señor. But it is at the hacienda. If they bombed the villa then…” He shrugged in the darkness.

  El jefe cursed in Spanish then flicked his lighter, bringing a warm orange glow to the vast blackness of the tunnel. “Tell me there are lamps down here, Raul.”

  “Si! There are. They are hanging along the walls, señor.” He forced himself back up to his feet and fell into step behind him. “Look along the walls. Near the electric lights.”

  El Fantasma worked his way deeper into the tunnels, his eyes following the electric cables strung along the wall until he found a kerosene lantern. “Here’s one.” He lifted it from a hook on the wall and quickly lit the wick. “Pray that the federales didn’t think to blow up our plane as well, Raul.” He glanced back at the smaller man. “Or these tunnels may well become our tomb.”

  Raul swallowed nervously and nodded. “Si. I pray that the tunnels didn’t cave in as well.” He found his mouth going dry and the air suddenly feeling thicker. “I am not ready to die, señor.”

  29

  Near Chapala, Mexico

  * * *

  Bridger slowly tried to come to his feet, coughing and wiping dirt from his face. “Sitrep!”

  “I’m good,” DJ groaned as he came to one knee. “What the fuck was that, Top?”

  “Still breathing,” Lisa choked as she leaned against the wall of the tunnel.

  “I’m alive,” Laughlin wheezed. “Did we set off a boobytrap?”

  Bridger flicked on the LED torch attached to the barrel shroud of his carbine. “If we’d tripped a boobytrap we wouldn’t still be breathing.” He spun slowly and looked at the near cave-in behind them. “I think the house was rigged.” He coughed harder and spun his torch in the other direction. “The ghost probably thought we were still up there in it.”

  Lisa keyed her coms. “Slippy, you still out there?” She waited a moment, her face painted with worry. “You don’t think that blast could have…”

  Bridger shook his head. “He was too far up the ridge.” He coughed again and blew dirt from his nostrils. “We’re probably too deep for these coms.”

  DJ pulled Laughlin to his feet. “You in one piece?”

  He nodded then realized it was too dark to see. “Yeah. I’m good.”

  “Let’s move.” Bridger edged forward. “There’s no getting out the way we came.”

  “Keep tight,” Lisa stated, for Laughlin more than anything. “We can’t risk separating down here.”

  Bridger picked up the pace, hoping to close the distance with the ghost of Murillo. The team was practically running through tunnels, jumping over debris that had fallen, their torches weaving back and forth along the walls as they trotted deeper underground.

  He slowed his gait and held a fist in the air. “We got a choice to make.” He pointed at the Y intersection with his torch. “Which way?”

  Laughlin pointed to the bright orange arrow spray painted on the wall. “I’d say this way.”

  Bridger raised a brow, his Bullshit-O-Meter pegging. “DJ, take point. Watch for boobytraps.” He looked at Laughlin and shook his head. “I don’t buy the road sign at all.”

  “But…” He pointed to the large orange arrow again. “Why else would they put these?”

  “It’s called a misdirect,” Lisa stated as she fell into step behind DJ.

  “Move.” Bridger practically pushed Laughlin into step. “Don’t worry though. If they’re down this way, you can take all the credit for reading the neon orange arrows.”

  “Jesus, Bobby. You can stop being a prick already.” He trotted alongside the man.

  Lisa scoffed. “That ain’t him being a prick.” She turned and gave him an evil grin. “If your testicles were in your shirt pocket, that’d be him being a prick.”

  DJ rounded a bend and practically slid to a stop. “Whoah! We ain’t going that way.”

  “What’s wrong?” Bridger barked from the rear.

  “Cave in.” DJ appeared in front of him. “We have to take the other leg.”

  “Let’s move. Double time it.” Bridger took off, leading the team as they raced back along the tunnel. When the Y appeared, they made a sharp turn and took off in the other direction.

  “What do we do if it’s caved in down there, too?” Laughlin asked.

  Lisa pointed to the ceiling. “Pray we can dig ourselves out before we run out of air.”

  Laughlin slowed and stared at the back of her head. “Yeah, that’s comforting.”

  Langley Virginia

  * * *

  Robert Ingram stared at the satellite feed and had to remember to breathe. “I think your asset…”

  Jameson held a hand up to stop him. “Don’t, Robert.” He exhaled a hard, shaky breath and stared at the image being relayed in real time. “Can you search for heat signatures?”

  The tech shook his head. “Not after a blast like that.” He gave the man a solemn look. “I doubt there would be pieces big enough to detect.”

  Jameson felt his knees weaken and he braced himself as he stepped away. Ingram appeared by his side and offered assistance. “Here, let me help.”

  “I’m not an invalid, Robert.” He stood taller and took a deep breath. “That was…”

  “Horrific.”

  “Unexpected.” He squared his shoulders and marched up the aisle towards the exit. “I suppose we’ll have to find another asset to groom.”

  Ingram gave him a confused look. He trotted up the stairs to catch up to him. “Care to enlighten me on the need for this special ‘asset’ of yours?”

  Near Chapala, Mexico

  * * *

  El Fantasma held a hand up to shield his eyes from the bright morning sun. Raul pushed the door open further and stood to the side while he exited and swiped at the dirt covering his once white linen suit. “This is unacceptable.”

  “We shall find you an appropriate change of clothes, señor. In fact, I think there are bags already on the plane.” He gave him a sheepish look. “In case you needed to be redirected for an extended time.”

  El jefe gave him a curious look. “Your doing, Raul?”

  “Si, Jefe. Last year, after you were delayed in Miami for three days? I made it a point to ensure that you had at least an overnight bag prepared.”

  He patted the man’s cheek and gave him a tight smile. “You’re…always thinking, aren’t you?”

  He huffed as he trod up the short hill towards the flat landing strip. As the pair emerged from the heavy greenery, the red earth runway was more than a welcome sight.

  He looked down the runway and saw the Learjet Liberty gleaming like a mirror in the early morning sun. “I am already beginning to sweat, Raul.” He paused at the edge of the runway and sighed. “Remind me next time, we get golf carts for the airstrip, si?”

  Raul chuckled before he nervously glanced back towards what was left of their small valley. The rising plume of dark smoke tugged at his heart. The villa had been Don Murillo’s favorite home. Teresa had spent most of her time there as the valley was secluded and serene. “Do you think we’ll ever rebuild, señor?”

  El Fantasma stared out over the ruins and shook his head. “Not unless we remove Esmerelda and the Sinaloa from the game board.” He turned for the jet and began to walk. “Come, Raul. We have to ensure that our assets are protected.”

  Near Chapala, Mexico

  * * *

  Mauk packed the rifle into the case and handed it to Diego. “Where’s Slip?”

  “He is trying to collect the drones.” He motioned over his shoulder.

  Mauk stared up the ridge and saw Gregg standing at the crest, holding one of his computers aloft to boost the signal. “What’s
the holdup?”

  “Some of them are so low on battery that…” He groaned. “I’m gonna have to go down there and collect them while the cameras are still powered.” He sat down and began tapping at the keyboard. “If I can turn on their GPS beacons…” Mauk snatched the computer from his hands and spun his back to him. “Hey! What the hell?” Slippy stood and reached for the computer.

  “Self-destruct them,” Mauk grumbled as he scrolled through the options.

  “Fuck that!” Slippy grabbed the computer and snatched it from his grip. “Do you have any idea what those are worth?”

  “Like the fedgov is gonna let you keep any.”

  He glared at the taller man. “Like I’d tell them any survived.”

  “You said they had GPS. If you can find them, so can they.”

  “I will disable it.” He sat down again and tapped at the keyboard. “Aww great. They’re starting to die.”

  Mauk groaned and planted his hands on his hips. “Then blow up the ones that are nearly dead and grab you one as a souvenir.”

  Slippy gave him a hurt look. “But they’re so much fun. Can you imagine what I could do with a handful of these?”

  “Grab one and reverse engineer the damned thing. Build your own.”

  Slippy’s face fell. “Fine.” He scrolled through the options and self-destructed those that didn’t have enough power to return. “This hurts. It really does.”

  “I feel your pain.” Mauk stared down into the valley as the tiny drones sent up mild concussion waves and clouds of dirt. “Kind of impressive, really.”

  “I got two,” Slippy said as he came to his feet. “I think they’ll make it back.” He stood beside Mauk and watched as the little killing machines slowly flew back up the ridge. “Almost there…” Mauk watched one fell to the ground and Slippy went pale. “It’s close. I can go get it.”