Mario took the screen and removed his sunglasses. He expanded the image and stared at the note. “Son of a bitch.” He began to laugh and handed the tablet to Fernando. “Find out where this is.”
“Señor?” Fernando took the tablet and stared at the message. “I don’t understand.”
“Those are coordinates. Track them down.” He glanced out the window at the thin man sweating in the Texas sun. “Call the men back and tell them to prepare to move out.”
The man nodded then turned back to him. “Um, where?”
Mario leaned over in the seat and stared at Fernando’s reflection in the rear view mirror. “Where are we going?”
Fernando typed furiously on his phone then held it up. “It’s very near a small town, Jefe. A place called Quitman?”
Mario turned back to the window. “Quitman. Tell them to follow us.” He snapped his fingers at Fernando who quickly handed the tablet back to the wiry man. “Vamonos!”
39
Near Quitman, TX
* * *
“Hey…” Gregg held up a brick of C4. “I’ve been looking for these! I thought we lost them in Libya.”
Bridger gave him a shrug. “We did.” He raised a menacing brow. “I found them.”
Gregg scoffed. “You stole them.” He shoved blocks into his bag then zipped it. “You are definitely going to owe me to keep this between us.”
“How about I snap your neck if you even think of mentioning it?”
Gregg tapped at his chin in animated thought. “I was thinking more like an espresso machine for the lounge.”
“Move.” Bridger shoved him towards the open hallway. “Remember to mark what you set! Especially the dynamite!” he called after him.
Mauk practically jogged back to the weapons cache. “The west runs are set.” He dropped his bag and began to rifle through the claymores stacked in the rear of the large munitions locker. “There’s a short run between me and DJ that I want to rig.”
“Just mark your placings.” He stood and gave Mauk a concerned look. “Alternate the tripwires.”
“I am.” David gave him a quick smirk. “Push pulls, brother. If they happen to spot one and clip the wire…”
“Sayonara motherfucker.” Bridger zipped his bag and turned for the north hallway. “Don’t forget to stage weapons and ammunition.”
“Already on it.” Mauk turned and practically ran into DJ.
“Hey, did you know that there’s a connecting tunnel between the south and west runs?”
Mauk handed him the bag. “Yup. I’d just seen it. Let’s do it up righteous.” He fell into step behind DJ.
Lisa wiped the sweat from her brow and entered the main terminal of the underground structure. She bent low and pulled a beer from the mini-fridge and grimaced. “Who drinks Miller Genuine Draft?” She twisted the top and took a long pull.
Laughlin appeared at her side and gave her a longing look. “You know, you make that MGD look good.”
She fought the urge to smile then tapped the mini fridge with her boot toe. He smiled at her then bent to get one. She took the opportunity to slap his ass then march to the weapons locker.
Laughlin banged his head standing up and felt his face flush as he watched her saunter off. “You’re gonna make me start thinking that you actually like me, Sparrow.”
She stuck her head out from the steel locker door and gave him a smirk. “You’re still alive, aren’t you?”
Laughlin chuckled as he took a pull from the beer then twisted his face. “How old is this?” He searched the label for a date.
“At least a year,” Bridger grumbled as he reentered the room. “But it’s wet and it’s cold.” He dropped the duffel on the table and wiped at his forehead. “Tell me you’re set.”
Lisa pushed the locker door shut and clipped a fragmentation grenade to her vest. “We’re set.” She raised a brow at Laughlin then tossed him a grenade. “Please don’t blow us up.”
Matt scoffed as he searched his tactical vest for a place to attach it. “I’ve used these before, remember?” He pulled up the flap on a belt pouch and slid the grenade inside. “What do you figure our odds are?”
Lisa shrugged. “Fifty-fifty. Maybe.”
He gave her a flirting smile. “Don’t sugarcoat it.”
Bridger sighed and ran a hand through his close cropped hair. “I give us a thirty percent chance of surviving.”
Laughlin raised a brow and nodded. “That good?”
He shrugged. “If they realize that we’re down here and trapped, the smart thing to do would be to bury the exits and set a guard to make sure we didn’t dig our way out.”
Lisa crossed her arms and sighed. “And if they’re not smart?”
“Then our odds go up significantly. I’d pit any of our team against the best they have under these circumstances and still lay odds with us overcoming.”
DJ walked past the trio and fished two beers from the mini fridge, tossing one to Mauk. “So the odds are in our favor?”
“What odds?” Gregg asked as he entered the large underground room. He tossed his bag to the bench and looked longingly at the beer in Mauk’s hand. “Got a spare?”
Mauk shook his head. “Nope. Last one.”
DJ handed him the last cold beer then leaned on the workbench. “The tunnels are all good. The charges are set, the proximity alarm is active.” He took a swig of the beer and glanced at Bridger. “What now?”
“Now we make sure we have enough magazines loaded and prepare to meet the enemy.”
“Any particular strategy?” Laughlin asked.
Bridger nodded. “Yeah. Don’t get killed.”
Langley Virginia
* * *
Director Jameson listened to the Unit Commander’s voice over the speakerphone, his jaw clenching as the bad news hit home. “You’re certain?”
“Of course, I am, sir. We even looked through the windows. Nobody is there. All we found was the note duct taped to the primary entrance.”
Jameson growled low in his throat. “But you can’t be certain if Bridger left it or it was left for him?”
“Affirmative, sir. But in my estimation, if your man and this cartel leader are intent on locking horns, my money says to converge on that location and wait for both parties to show up.”
Jameson leaned forward and clicked on his computer. “Give me the coordinates again.”
The unit commander read the number off and Jameson tapped it in. He waited for the image to stabilize then zoomed in on a wooded patch of land in the middle of nowhere. “Hold on just a moment.” He switched screens and pulled up Bridger’s dossier. “Son of a…that’s Bridger’s old address. Sort of.” He turned back to the speakerphone. “You have a go, commander. Remember to stay out of sight. I can’t have Bridger knowing that you are there to assist.”
“Roger that, sir.” There was a brief pause and Jameson heard mumblings in the background. “Director, something was just brought to my attention.”
“What, commander?”
“Our aerial view indicated a convoy of POVs leaving from the county road facing the property just moments before we arrived. It could have been your man.”
“You didn’t run into them, did you?”
“Negative, sir. We approached the property from the rear. The convoy was all on the east side, facing the bunker’s structures.”
“Get to those coordinates, commander. Protect my asset!”
“Copy that, sir!”
Near Quitman, TX
* * *
“Señor,” Fernando nodded ahead, “I believe that is it.”
Mario sat forward in the rear seat and peered through the windshield. He saw a utility van and a brightly painted lowrider parked along a dirt driveway, their path blocked by logs.
He nodded slowly and patted Fernando’s shoulder. “This is it. I wouldn’t doubt that those vehicles are all that remains of the gangbangers that attempted to kill Bravo team.”
He opened th
e door and stepped out, the dry Texas dirt blowing across the toes of his highly polished jump boots. “Vamonos!” he waved the other vehicles forward and watched as men piled out.
The wiry fellow he had spoken with earlier stepped away from the others and tossed the small drone into the air. The little quadcopter made a loud buzzing sound as it circled the burnt and destroyed woods.
Mario approached him. “What do you see?”
“Four paths lead through the debris.” He worked the controls and lowered the small drone. “They all lead to specific spots and then disappear.” He glanced at Mario. “They are well worn paths.”
“Where do they end?”
The drone dropped from the sky then caught itself short of impacting the ground. “To these.” He zoomed in the camera, and thin steel doors appeared to cover concrete frames. “Whatever they are, they look reinforced.”
Mario chuckled. “He fancies himself a tunnel rat.” He charged his AK-47 then stepped away, addressing his men. “They’ve gone underground! We will go in after them and once we are certain they are dead, this can be their tomb!”
Fernando wiped his brow as he approached Mario. “Jefe, I mean no disrespect, but we can’t know what we are walking into down there.” He swallowed hard. “Perhaps we should wait. They will have to come out eventually. We can kill them then, si?”
Mario gave him a smile that did not reach his eyes. “No, amigo. They have to die now.” He patted the larger man’s jowls. “They are but a handful. We outnumber them twenty to one.” He turned and pointed to the sloping hill. “They are under there, so you know they cannot use heavy weapons or explosives without it coming down on their own heads.”
“But, señor, this is their turf. They have the advantage.”
Mario stiffened and his face grew red with anger. “No, Fernando. WE have the advantage. Superior numbers, superior firepower.” He leaned close and his voice dropped to a whisper, laced with venom. “They WILL pay for what they have done. I will see them crushed under my heel.” He gripped the man’s shirt and pulled him closer. “Or we will die trying.”
Fernando swallowed hard and nodded, sweat forming on his forehead again. “Si, señor.” He turned and barked at the others, “Split up! Find them!”
Mario turned and marched up the hill, stepping over fallen trees and splintered wood. He could feel his anger rising as he closed in on the closest steel door. “I am coming for you, Bravo. It’s time to pay.”
40
Near Quitman, TX
* * *
Gregg stared at the flashing indicator on his laptop. “Oh yeah. We got company.” He leaned closer then tapped at his keyboard. “Looks like we got a LOT of company.” He gave Bridger a smirk. “I hope you hid the silver and broke out the cheap wine.”
Bridger squared his shoulders and let his breath out slowly. “Okay, Bravo. You know what to do.” He watched as Lisa and Laughlin split off and headed down the hallway they would defend.
“One last time?” Laughlin asked, a knowing grin crossing his face.
“One last time.” Lisa charged her carbine and turned to march side by side with him.
Mauk and DJ did a quick fist bump.
“See ya on the other side, brother,” Mauk stated.
DJ nodded. “Watch your six.”
The pair then split away and trotted down their own hallways. Bridger hefted the SCAR heavy and jammed a magazine into the bottom of the rifle. “Time to make the doughnuts.”
Gregg stood from his computer and gave him a serious look. “Where do you want me?”
“Right here.” Bridger returned his gaze with a knowing look. “If they happen to break through any of the branches, it will lead them here first. I need you to prevent them from advancing on anybody else’s back and catching them in a crossfire.”
Gregg nodded and picked up a P90. “Stay on coms this time, yeah?”
Bridger gave him a sharp smile. “Stay frosty.”
He turned and trotted down the north hallway leaving Gregg alone with his thoughts. And all of the beer.
Near Quitman, TX
* * *
Mario stood at the base of the steel door, his rifle in hand and ready to fire. The men in front of him used a crowbar to snap the bracket holding a padlock then tugged at the heavy steel cover.
Mario ignored the spider webs and the creepy crawlies that scattered once the door seal was broken and bent low, peering into the depths of the catacombs. He waved his men inside then fell into step with them, their boots making a muffled clatter as they took the concrete steps too quickly.
He was actually surprised when his feet hit the floor and it was dirt. He half expected to see finished walls, concrete floors and electrical conduits running the length of the tunnel.
He glanced at the roughhewn walls and the black cabling draped along the top; a single LED light bulb dangling intermittently providing very little illumination.
One of his men pushed past him, a federale shield held with one arm with a pistol gripped in his other hand. The others stepped to the side as he worked his way forward, then the men formed a V behind him as he slowly advanced.
Mario tried to peer past the men, to see what they were advancing into, but the lighting was so poor that he could barely make out ten feet in front of them. He glanced at the low-watt bulbs and muttered, “Cheap bastard.”
One of the men announced in a loud whisper, “Stay alert.”
Mario sighed as he squared his shoulders and stretched his neck. “This will be like shooting fish in a—”
His sentence was interrupted as a deafening explosion blasted sand, rocks and debris into the lead man.
Near Quitman, TX
* * *
Lisa bent low and slid an angled mirror past the corner. She glanced at the shadowy figures making their way down the tunnel. She squinted as she stared at the reflection. “Son of a bitch,” she whispered.
“What’s wrong?” Laughlin asked.
“They’re using bulletproof shields.” She groaned under her breath then keyed her coms. In a whispered voice she announced, “Vulture, Sparrow. They’ve got ballistic shields.”
Bridger’s voice whispered back in her ear, “Copy that. I doubt they’ll stand up to the claymores.”
A moment later the concussion of the blast blew past her, setting her ears to ringing. She winced then fell forward, landing on her side, her carbine belching destruction down the long tunnel corridor.
Laughlin straddled her form and began to spray bullets in the same direction. He could see where the men had been as the dust cloud still hung in the air. He could only follow her lead and pray that he wasn’t wasting ammunition by shooting the walls.
Muffled screams came from the end of the tunnel corridor as Lisa yelled, “Changing mags!” She quickly ejected the empty one and slammed a fresh magazine into the well.
Laughlin covered her then stripped his own empty magazine, letting it drop near her legs. He squeezed her shoulder and she let up on the trigger. “Let them regroup. There are more charges between us.”
He gripped her hand and pulled her to her feet. She shot him a sly grin. “I just noticed something. You’re cuter in the dark.”
He chuckled as he pulled her away from the corner. “I’ll let my beard grow out longer then.” He raised a brow at her. “Sounds like the more of my face I cover up, the better you like me.”
She laughed as she patted his cheek. “Just cover my six, big guy.”
Near Quitman, TX
* * *
Mauk stiffened when he felt the first charge blow. He didn’t really hear it until a few moments later and even then, it sounded like muffled gunshots.
“And so it begins.”
He pressed his back to the wall, near the intersection of the tunnels. He could hear the men approaching, their soft murmurs sounded muffled in the rock tunnels. He waited, forcing himself not to look to see how close they were.
He heard excitement on their end and knew
that they had found the trip wire. A slow smile crept across his face as he waited. He knew that one of them would try to render the charge safe. He was probably digging for a pair of pliers to cut the metallic wire.
He held his breath and closed his eyes, trying to see their actions in his mind.
He waited.
And waited.
And waited.
“What the…” curiosity got the better of him and he chanced a quick glance into the tunnel.
They were nearly on him.
The men noticed the movement and gunfire erupted, blasting bits of sandstone from the corner. He slapped at his tactical vest, searching for the transmitter that would blow the secondary charge while the men yelled excitedly just around the corner.
He flipped the cover switch and triggered the toggle, just as the first man emerged from the tunnel. The resulting blast sent the man, and limbs of others, past him and farther down the main corridor. The bits of rock and sand that pelted his face had him squeezing his eyes shut and firing blindly into the murk.
He wasn’t certain, but he thought he might have felt a secondary explosion, as if the initial claymore had also gone off. Perhaps the men had simply stepped over the trip wire and the blast knocked one of them back into it, triggering the device? He couldn’t know and he definitely couldn’t see to find out.
He turned and made his way back down the tunnel, his hand sliding along the wall to help guide him.
He made it about twenty feet before he remembered the charges he had set between his position and the staging area. He froze and felt his throat go dry. With a sigh he forced his eyes open and tried to peer past the dust in the air.
“Fuck me…” he groaned.
Near Quitman, TX
Burning Bridges Page 25
