Burning Bridges

by Heath Stallcup

  He turned back and watched as the last one wavered and dipped, struggling to make it back to the launch site. “Name this one Chuck,” Mauk joked. “Little Chuck Norris because it’s a tough little—”

  His statement was interrupted as ‘Chuck’ lurched one last time and landed at his feet. Mauk stared down at it then glanced to Slippy. “You didn’t arm the C4 on this one did you?”

  Slippy shot him an evil grin. “Pick it up and find out.”

  Mauk kicked it lightly with the toe of his boot. “Nah. If you want it, you get it.” He turned back to the truck. “We leave in five. If you want the other one, you’d better run.”

  Slippy glared at him, his eyes narrowed. “If you want the other one…” he mocked.

  “What was that?”

  “I said, ‘I’ll try to hurry!’” he yelled over his shoulder. He started down the hill mumbling, “Jolly green moron.”

  30

  Near Chapala, Mexico

  * * *

  “Great,” Lisa groaned. “Another Y.”

  DJ stepped past her. “Hold on.” He bent low and pressed a hand to the floor and another to the wall. He paused a moment and stared into the darkness, listening intently. “Left.”

  Laughlin stared at him in total fascination. “You could feel something through the earth? Like when the Indians used to listen to railroad tracks to know when a train was coming?”

  DJ shook his head and pointed with his flashlight. “Fresh tracks in the fallen dirt.” He pointed with his boot. “Dress shoes. I’m betting this is probably your ghost, Top.”

  “Let’s go.” Bridger pushed past them, his jaw set. He was determined that Murillo’s ghost truly would become part of the spirit world.

  Laughlin trotted to keep up and Lisa pushed for him to travel faster. “Step it up. You don’t want to get stuck down here.”

  “I see light!” Bridger announced as he slowed his approach. “Stay frosty. They could be waiting for us.”

  “I got this.” DJ moved ahead and crept along the wall. He pressed himself tighter to the side and stared along the bend. “I see no movement.”

  Bridger waved the team ahead and fell into step behind DJ. “Keep alert. There could still be tripwires.”

  DJ stopped and dropped low, aligning himself with the floor. “Nothing.” He pushed up from the damp earthen floor and nodded toward the rusty metal stairs leading up to the open doorway. “I’m betting they made a hasty retreat.”

  “I would too if I had us on our asses,” Bridger grumbled as he gripped the railings.

  He emerged into the daylight and the wind blowing over the ridge carried no telltale signs with it. “I’m not seeing anything.”

  DJ dropped to the ground again and peered along the top edge of the grass. “There.” He pointed. “To the crest of the ridge.”

  Bridger took off at a run and crested the short hill. “Fuck. There’s a runway.”

  DJ appeared beside him and saw the jet at the far end. “We got a ride home at least.”

  Bridger hefted his rifle and peered through the scope. “Son of a bitch. That’s them!”

  He began advancing on the two men walking towards the plane, firing as he closed the gap. He emptied his magazine and ejected it, his hand automatically going to his midsection for another. He slapped at the molle vest and froze. “I’m out!”

  DJ ran to him, a magazine in hand. He lifted his own carbine and fired at the two men, who were now running for the plane. “Last mag!”

  Lisa and Laughlin appeared on either side, dropping to a knee and firing down the runway. “I’m out!” Laughlin yelled.

  Lisa cursed and dropped her rifle, her hand automatically going for the sidearm. “Small arms only,” she announced.

  DJ cursed as he ignored the other shooters and began advancing on the plane, firing with his pistol. He paused and hit the dirt as a man dressed in white emerged from under the plane, returning fire.

  Bridger dropped to one knee and braced his elbow. He peered through the scope and placed the crosshairs on the man in white.

  A golden flash caught his attention and he focused on the gun.

  A gold plated pistol.

  Bridger shifted the reticle to the man firing at them and froze. “Oh my god.” His voice was barely a whisper.

  The man in white looked at his pistol, the slide locked back, then darted back towards the plane. Bridger felt his legs go weak and he had to steady himself as Lisa marched past him, changing mags in her pistol.

  “Hold fire,” his voice cracked as he spoke.

  She continued to advance and Bridger forced himself to his feet. He reached out and grabbed her arm, lowering her weapon. “Hold fire!”

  She turned on him, hatred burning in her eyes. “What the hell, Bobby?”

  The whine of the plane engines grew in intensity and the pilot began to taxi. Bridger pulled her aside and nodded towards the craft. “The ghost,” his face was pale as he spoke. “I saw him.”

  “Good for you!” she yelled over the wind and turbines. “Kill the motherfucker!”

  He shook his head at her. “I can’t.” He turned and stared as the plane accelerated towards them. His eyes focused on the windows. He had to be certain. He stared hard at the window and saw the same face glaring at them from within as the plane went by.

  Bridger turned Lisa to face the plane and pointed. “It’s Mario.”

  Langley VA

  * * *

  “Enter.” Jameson looked up from the file on his desk and was surprised to see the satellite tech standing at the door. “Sir? I’m sorry to bother you but we expanded the field after you left.” He seemed to squirm a bit as he spoke. “We wanted to see if the federal forces had been eliminated by the assets.”

  Jameson shut the file and raised a brow at him. “And?”

  “And…well, sir,” he stepped closer and cleared his throat, “we saw a plane take off from west of the compound. Apparently there was a dirt airstrip in the jungle that we hadn’t identified.” He grinned sheepishly. “Actually, if it hadn’t been for the heat generated by the engines we probably never would have—”

  “Get to the point,” Jameson interrupted.

  The man nodded nervously. “Actually, sir, that was the point.” He pushed his glasses up on his nose and smiled. “We didn’t notice the craft until it began to take off, so we can’t be certain the number of people who might have boarded the craft. But it fits the profile for a 75-foot Learjet. More than capable of carrying the asset and his team.” He shrugged. “IF they survived the attack.”

  Jameson rocked back in his seat and nodded. “Can you track the plane?”

  “Already on it, sir. And we are monitoring the asset’s known communication frequencies and cell phone numbers so if they contact anybody, we’ll be able to verify them.”

  Jameson smiled to himself. “Good work.” He turned back to his files then glanced at the man. “As you were. Just…keep me informed.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Somewhere Over Northern Mexico

  * * *

  Raul sat down and tried to squeeze his hands together to keep them from shaking. “I’m sorry, Jefe. I must seem a complete fool to you.” He opened his hands and the shaking worsened. “We head a drug cartel and yet…I had never been shot at before.”

  Mario Gomez leaned back in his seat and wiped the spent powder from the gold-plated Colt that he had been “shot” with to stage his death. “And I carried only two magazines, hermano.” He grinned at him. “Looks like we both have much to learn, eh?”

  Raul forced himself to breathe slower. A quick glance out the window and his brain knew that they were safely away from the immediate danger, but his heart continued to thump harder in his chest. He turned to El Fantasma and paused, noticing the look on the other man’s face. “Something else is wrong.” It wasn’t a question.

  Mario nodded slightly. “They saw me.” He sighed as he leaned back in his seat and removed his Panama hat. “Bravo know
s who I am. I’m certain.”

  Raul shook his head adamantly. “We were too far from them. They couldn’t have—”

  “I saw Bridger’s face before we took to the air. I’m sure he recognized me through the optics of his rifle.” He sucked at his teeth in frustration. “I fear this will not be as easy as I had hoped.”

  Raul forced his breathing to slow and turned to him. “So what do we do? Try to reinforce our holdings and defend from the Sinaloa or go after your mortal enemy?”

  Mario scoffed as he leaned back and placed the hat over his eyes. “Both.” He yawned, surprising Raul at the ease he exuded. “I will gather our forces in the states.” He lifted the hat and gave him a knowing look. “And those who survived the attack at the villa, and those posted at the others.” He slipped the hat back over his eyes. “And you will go to Mexico City and prepare our counter attack for Esmerelda.”

  “Señor, do you not think that we should wait and—”

  “Waiting makes us appear weak, Raul.” He took a deep, cleansing breath. “We cannot allow the other Dons to think that we are now susceptible to being taken over.” He shook his head slightly. “No, we must counterstrike, and, if possible, remove Esmerelda from the board.”

  Raul pushed out a nervous breath and turned to face him, his voice low. “Señor, perhaps you should lead this attack. Surely the Bravo team can wait until we have dealt with the threat to our business.”

  Mario shook his head slightly. “Raul, do you know why I even considered taking on this business?”

  He nodded slightly. “Teresa.”

  He sat up suddenly and removed the hat from his face. “That is correct. Teresa.” He sat forward, his face a mask of anger. “I was sent in to take down Murillo and his business. I spent two years of my life endearing myself to him.” His jaw quivered as he recalled his history. “I loved her more than my own life.”

  “That was why you told Don Murillo the truth.”

  “Si, and he should have killed me. But because he loved his hermana as much as I did, he let me live. I agreed to feed Bravo false information, pointed them to our enemies, gave them small fish to fry so that they could feel that they were accomplishing something…” He swallowed hard, his mind taking him where he didn’t want to go. “And they struck that bridge, regardless. I told them that Don Murillo wasn’t in that caravan, and they chose to blow it up anyway.”

  Raul reached out and placed a reassuring hand on his. “I still feel the pain, señor.”

  Mario nodded and turned away from him. “From that day forward, I swore vengeance.” He turned away so that Raul wouldn’t see his eyes tearing. “I sat by her side day and night…the doctors pleading to let her go. To unplug her life support.” He stared at the ceiling, looking for God. “I prayed harder than I have ever prayed.” He sniffed back the tears then turned and gave Raul a hard look. “But I asked for the wrong thing, Raul. I prayed that God would let her live…” He felt his voice crack. “But I should have asked that she recover. That she come back to me.”

  “I am sorry.” It was all he could think to say.

  “She lived.” He sniffed back angry tears. “She fought to stay with us. Nurses and physical therapists, all of them fighting to keep her body from withering. But…her mind…her soul? It left her on that bridge.” He shook his head angrily. “I know this now. I…tortured her. Forced her to remain here…with me.”

  “You cannot know the mind of God, señor. You did what you thought was best.” He patted the man’s shoulder. “Don Murillo knew this.”

  “That’s the ONLY reason he left his business to me, Raul. He put the two most precious things he had in my hands and now…now they are both gone.”

  “The business is not gone yet, señor. We will fight to keep it. We will kill Esmerelda and take the Sinaloa’s assets. We will double our strength and—”

  “No, Raul.” He turned and gave him a look he couldn’t read. “YOU will take their assets and YOU will rebuild our business.” His eyes turned hard and his fists clenched. “I will take the war to Bravo team, and, should I fail, I will know that Don Murillo’s business is in the best hands.”

  Raul swallowed hard and nodded. “Si, señor. I will do my best.”

  31

  In the Skies Over Northern Mexico

  * * *

  “You had to be seeing things, Top,” DJ stated as he propped his feet on the back of the seat. “You watched him die.”

  Mauk turned in the seat and gave him a dirty look. “You raised in a barn?” He swatted at his boot. “And if Bobby says he saw Mario, then he saw Mario.”

  Lisa shook her head in denial. “No. I can’t believe that he would turn against us.” She spun around and pointed at Bridger. “He wouldn’t send shooters to my family’s house!”

  Bridger held a hand up. “I’m telling you what I saw. Yeah, he’s a bit grayer and a bit thicker in the middle, but I’m telling you, it was Mario.”

  Laughlin stared at the group with disdain. “So, after all this time of blaming me and nearly flushing my career, you find out that your buddy Mario was a traitor.” He scoffed, “Sounds about right.”

  Lisa spun on him, fire in her eyes. “You’re still a piece of shit in my book, Laughlin. You hung him out to dry and—”

  “He was YOUR asset first!” Bridger cut her off before she burned the bridge entirely. “You had him inserted with Murillo before any of us were even recruited for this fuckshow.”

  “He had to gain their trust.” Laughlin didn’t mean to sound defensive, but his voice betrayed him. “You don’t just walk into a Colombian drug cartel and drop a fuckin’ resume on the table and ask for a job.”

  “Well, somehow they got to him,” Gregg stated flatly. “Either he started out in their pocket and you somehow missed it in the screening, or they got leverage on him and—”

  “You don’t get leverage on somebody and then they end up running the show,” Bridger stated. “No, if Mario is Murillo’s ghost then…he had to volunteer for it. He sold himself out to Murillo and the cartel used him.” He turned slowly and met Matt’s gaze. “They used his intel against us.”

  Laughlin shook his head. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying that Mario sold us out. He fed the cartel the real info then relayed bullshit to us.” He turned and faced the others. “The cartel was using us to do their dirty work.”

  Lisa shook her head adamantly. “No. He wouldn’t do that.”

  “But he did do that,” Bridger replied softly. “For whatever reason, Mario sold out to them and they used his connections to us.” He locked eyes with her. “It makes sense. Most of our operations were against the other cartels. After we leveled Murillo’s airstrips, Mario said that they dried up. He said that they were barely minor players. We didn’t question him. We just went with what he fed us.”

  Gregg sighed as he added, “And we spent most of the rest of our time going after the others. Lisa, it makes sense.”

  She continued to shake her head, her mind refusing to accept the facts. “No. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t.”

  “He did.” Bridger laid a hand on her shoulder and she slapped it away.

  “I need more than a shaky ID made through a scope at three hundred yards.”

  “One fifty,” DJ corrected.

  “What-the-hell-ever.” Lisa plopped into the seat and stared out the window of the company jet. “I’m still not buying it.”

  “The question now is,” Laughlin stood between the pair. “Where do we go from here? Even if we had the resources of the agency behind us, there’s no way we could track him. He’d be burrowed in so deep that it would take a bunker buster to get him out again.”

  “That’s IF we could find him,” Gregg added. “It’s not like they filed a flight plan when they took off.”

  Bridger nodded knowingly. “He came after us once.” He eyed them each carefully. “I’d bet dollars to doughnuts he’ll do it again. Whatever Mario has stuck in his craw, this ain’t over.
”

  “I’m telling you, it’s not him,” Lisa growled.

  “Fine. You can ask him if he’s a clone when he comes to blow your brains out.” Bridger turned to the others. “I say we find a place where we can dig in and have a fighting chance of repelling whatever he sends after us.”

  DJ shook his head. “I ain’t going back to those frozen mountain cabins again. I’ll fight them in the ‘glades one on one if I have to.”

  “I was thinking something a little more middle ground.” He turned to Mauk and grinned. “I have a place in mind.”

  Laughlin stood from his seat. “Where do I tell the pilot we’re going?”

  Bridger sat down and leaned the seat back. “Take us to Dallas. We can drive from there.”

  Langley Virginia

  * * *

  “Sir?” The satellite operator peered through the open door.

  Director Jameson looked up from his computer. “What have you found?”

  “The plane we tracked from the compound landed in Mexico City. We watched a single party disembark while the craft refueled.”

  “Did it take off again?”

  The tech nodded. “It’s headed north, towards Laredo, Texas.”

  Jameson considered the myriad of possibilities. “Anything else?”

  “Yes, sir. Your asset is on another plane. A company plane. They’re headed back to the states.”

  Jameson felt a flood of relief at the news and chuckled to himself. “He’s a fucking cockroach, I tell ya. I don’t think a nuke could kill him.”

  “Sir?”

  “Nothing.” Jameson leaned forward and pointed at the man. “Track both planes. I want to know the moment the asset touches American soil and where.”

  “And the other plane, sir?”

  “I want to know where it goes and who is on it. Use ground assets if you have to.”