He laughed again and pushed her harder. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
She spun on her heel, ready to scratch his eyes out when the wall exploded, knocking them both back, deeper into the manmade cavern.
42
Near Quitman, TX
* * *
Bridger snapped his eyes open and sat up, his entire body aching. He rolled to his side and had to force his body to suck in air. He could feel his ribs protesting and knew that more than one was broken.
He slowly pulled himself across the littered ground and leaned against the cold stone wall. He had to force himself not to allow panic to set in. He closed his eyes, forcing his mind to calm.
“Priorities.”
Injuries?
He opened his eyes and made a cursory assessment. Two arms, two hands, two legs, two feet, all still attached.
He wiggled his fingers, then wiggled his toes and knew that if there were any spinal injuries, they were minor; he still had feeling. He rolled to the side and felt something tickling his jaw line. He ran a hand across his face and saw the blood, some of it already coagulated.
“Great.”
His voice sounded muffled in his own head and he suspected he probably burst an eardrum, if not both. “This was a stupid fucking idea, Bobby.”
He pulled himself up the wall and glanced at what was left of his tunnels. He saw a body lying close to where the cartel soldiers had thrown the dynamite and assumed that they either misjudged the blast radius of the dynamite and killed themselves or found his body and assumed he was dead before moving on.
He keyed his coms. “Slippy?”
He waited a moment before keying them again then froze. “Dammit.” He’d forgotten he’d had him activate the jammer.
Bobby groaned as he pushed off from the wall and tested his legs. Apparently none of the bones were broken, but his damned feet felt like somebody had beaten the bottoms with a baseball bat.
He stumbled along the wall and made his way towards the staging area. If Slippy were still alive, he’d be there. Probably trying to hold off the cartel.
IF he was alive. And that was a big if.
Near Quitman, TX
* * *
Slippy paced the staging area, his mind playing tricks on him. Every wayward sound that made its way to him had him snapping the barrel of the P90 in that direction, ready to cut somebody in half.
He was getting sick of trying to cover four access ways and spiking his adrenaline at every errant noise. He was ready to kill something when he heard the distinct sound of somebody approaching.
He cocked his head, listening to which tunnel it came from then staged himself behind the large, heavy workbench, the P90 resting along the top and stabilized. He heard the noise grow louder and knew that they were about to try to overrun him when he applied pressure to the trigger, ready to squeeze it past the breakover point in a split second.
He nearly shot Mauk as he stumbled into the staging area with DJ under his arm. “He needs help.”
“What the hell happened to him?” Slippy asked as he lowered the carbine and reached for the first responder’s kit.
“Got blowed up.” Mauk collapsed onto a barstool and leaned on the workbench.
“Cover the tunnels.” Slippy barked as he began to cut away DJ’s shirt.
Mauk sighed and closed his eyes but spun the barstool around and pointed his rifle towards the closest tunnel. “Any idea who’s still alive?”
He shook his head, “Bridger had me activate the jammer.” He began to cut at his pants when Mauk stood up from the barstool.
“He what?” He marched over to the other bench and scanned the area, looking for the jammer. “Where is it?”
“In the corner. Black box. Orange light.”
“Why the hell did you do it? No wonder the coms went dead.”
Slippy scowled at him. “Bridger ordered it. He had his reasons.”
“Fuck his reasons.” Mauk turned the jammer off then keyed his coms. “Bridger, you alive?”
He waited a moment then keyed the coms again. “Bridger, talk to me!”
“I’m alive.” They all spun and saw him stumble into the staging area. “Where are Lisa and Laughlin?”
“No fucking clue,” Mauk barked. “The coms were down.”
Bridger grabbed a half-drank beer from the counter and poured it over his head, washing away some of the blood. “They had radios.” He looked up at the trio. “We had to cut them off from the chain of command.”
Mauk huffed and crossed his arms. He opened his mouth to argue when a weak voice sounded in their ears. “Help.”
Bridger and Mauk stared at each other and Bridger keyed his coms. “Say again? Laughlin?”
“Help.” His voice sounded weak and both Mauk and Bridger felt their blood run cold.
“Go!” Slippy yelled. “I’ve got DJ—you go see what happened.”
Mauk scooped up his rifle and Bridger pushed through to the tunnel that Lisa and Matt had covered. Mauk slapped his shoulder. “How many left on your side?”
“No clue. You?”
“The same.” They slowed as they came to the first interchange. “Which way?”
Bridger pointed to the left. “Leads to the exit.”
Both men leveled their rifles and took their first step when they heard “Help,” again. Bridger froze and grabbed at Mauk’s shirt.
“That was behind us.” They turned but couldn’t see down the tunnel. The lights were out and the cable hung on the ground, severed. “Head on a swivel,” he whispered.
Mauk reached for the end of his barrel and flipped on the LED torch. He keyed his coms. “Laughlin, what’s your position?”
He glanced to Bridger, who shook his head. “He can’t hear us.”
Bridger slowed as they came to the next interchange and pulled his own torch. He shined it into the darkness and saw the dust still hanging in the air, bodies scattered across the ground. Both men heard the weak call for help and took off as fast as they could.
Mauk slid to a stop and shone his light on Laughlin’s still form. He was pale and clutching his chest, his belt tied tightly around his thigh. “Jeezus, Matt. What happened?”
“Shot.” He tried to swallow and choked on the dust. He patted his vest lightly and Mauk reached for the zipper. He pulled it slowly down and froze when he saw the level IV ballistic plate.
“Sweet Mary, mother of…” He cleared his throat. “Bridger.”
Bobby bent low and pointed his torch at Laughlin. “You’re a lucky son of a bitch.” He bent low and gripped the plate, sliding it out of what was left of the vest. The entire face had been bent back into a cone shape.
Mauk whistled low as Laughlin sucked in air. “Dude, I think your sternum is shattered.” He pointed to the dark purple bruise in the middle of his chest. “But you’ll probably live.”
Laughlin gave him a surprised look. “Probably?” he asked weakly.
Mauk shrugged. “Well, you have a hole in your thigh and your chest is crushed.”
“Tourniquet,” Laughlin wheezed.
“Yeah, I see that.” Mauk shook his head. “Let’s get you out of here.” He bent to pick up Laughlin when Bridger stepped between them.
“Where’s Lisa?” he barked.
Laughlin pointed behind him towards a pile of rocks. “Mario…took her.”
“What happened here?” Bridger asked, his eyes narrowing.
“He made her…drop her gun.” He swallowed again, his voice still wheezing. “I shot…the dynamite…with it.”
Bridger’s eyes narrowed on him. “You killed her?”
Laughlin shook his head gently. “She should…have…been clear.” He smiled at the pair. “Mario’s men…weren’t so lucky.”
Mauk turned and stared at Bridger. “Is there another way to that side?”
Bridger shook his head. “No. That was a dead end tunnel. It was going to be a dry goods storage eventually.” He stood and stared at the pil
e of rocks. Switching off his flashlight, he stared at the ceiling, praying that he wouldn’t see daylight.
“I’m taking him to Slippy. Then we’re calling an ambulance.”
“I think we’re going to need more than one.”
Near Quitman, TX
* * *
“Come in,” Lisa coughed and tried to catch her breath. “Bridger. Slippy.” She felt her chest shudder as she fought the urge to cry out in desperation. “Please, somebody answer me.”
“Radios are down,” Mario stated flatly.
Lisa turned her head in the dark, trying to locate him. “I’d hoped you were crushed under this shit.”
“Sadly, no.”
She heard him shuffle in the darkness, the sound of gravel and rocks sliding as he adjusted himself. “I seem to be unharmed.”
“I seem to be unharmed,” she mocked. “Fucking cockroach, that’s what you are!” She winced as the rocks shifted, adding more weight to her pinned legs.
Mario sighed heavily and she heard him move again. A moment later, a bright white LED light lit up his dirt covered face. “You have no idea what I’ve suffered.”
She scoffed as she twisted on the ground, trying to watch him. “Suffered? Oh, I can imagine how you suffered. Selling your poison to kids so you can ‘suffer’ in multimillion dollar mansions and drive your sports cars and…” she began to cough, the dust choking her.
Mario leaned against the wall and stared into nothingness. “You have no idea, do you?”
“No idea of what?” she barked, wishing she could claw his eyes out. “How it feels to betray your country? Your profession? Your OWN FUCKING TEAM!”
She regretted yelling as soon as she did it. Her head began to pound and her legs throbbed with each beat of her heart.
Mario stared at her for a moment then slowly shook his head. “You truly have no idea what you did.”
“Why don’t you tell me, Mario? You’re just itching to, aren’t you?”
He dragged his feet closer and rested his arms on his knees. “You weren’t there when Laughlin first had me infiltrate the Murillo cartel, were you? No…you came…what? A year later? Two?”
“What difference does it make?”
He scoffed and turned away from her, the light from the torch making his face appear even more evil in shadow. “Si, I had a job to do. And I was prepared to do whatever it took to bring them down.” He inhaled deeply and let it out slowly. “And then I met…her.”
“Her, who?”
He glanced at Sparrow, then looked at the rocks strewn around them. “Teresa.” He shook his head and fought the urge to cry. “She was Don Murillo’s hermana. His baby sister. She was only twenty-six when we first met.”
Lisa watched him carefully but her bullshit-o-meter refused to peg. Whatever he was telling her, he believed it to be true. She feared that she knew where this story was headed. “Go on.”
Mario lowered his face and spat dirt from his mouth. “She and I…we hit it off. We were like two peas in a pod.” He glanced at her. “It didn’t take long and we knew…it was love.” He sighed and wiped at his eyes. “She knew what her brother did. She chose to ignore it.” A sad smile formed as he spoke. “She didn’t hold it against me, either.”
“Because you worked for Murillo.” It was a statement, not a question.
He nodded. “Si. I worked for Don Murillo.” He shot her a knowing look. “Except I didn’t really, right? I worked for the fucking CIA.” He spat the words as he spoke. “Fucking ‘dual task force’ with DEA. Remove the scourge of cocaine from American shores. Hit them at the source.”
“That was the job, Mario.”
He nodded. “Si. That was the job.” He turned and gave her a menacing glare. “Tell me, Sparrow. Have you ever loved somebody? Hmm? I mean, really loved someone? More than yourself?” He shifted his position and turned towards her. “Loved them enough that you were willing to risk everything that you held dear, just to be with them?”
She stared at him, unable to answer. “Go on.”
“Well…I did. Teresa was my soulmate.” He scoffed again and waved his hand at her. “Oh, I know. Those are words from romance novels, right? Except…she truly was. I couldn’t breathe without her.”
“And she convinced you to change sides?”
He shook his head. “No. I knew that the only way it could end well for the two of us was if I went to Don Murillo and admitted everything.”
It was her turn to scoff. “He’d have killed you dead.”
Mario chuckled and smiled at her. “And he did, didn’t he? Right in front of Bravo team.”
“Except here you are…the head of the cartel now.” She shot him a hateful glare. “That don’t sound dead to me.”
He nodded and lowered his gaze. “Don Murillo was not happy. He held a gun to my head, and Teresa begged him not to kill me.” He sniffed a tear away as the memories flooded him again. “I promised him…that I would do ANYTHING to keep her safe. I promised him that I would love her until the day I died. That I would protect her.”
“And he let you live. That’s why you turned on us.”
Mario nodded. “That was the deal I offered him.” He turned and stared at her stoically. “I fed Laughlin false information, directed him to other targets. I fed him tiny pieces of our operation…just enough that he could think that Murillo was slowly being choked out by the other cartels.” He huffed and leaned back, softly beating the back of his head to the stone wall. “It was all going well, too. Murillo, he began to trust me. He eventually made me his right hand man.” He turned and stared at her incredulously. “Can you believe that? He knew that I had been working for the agency, and he still let me in.”
“Because of her. His sister.”
“Si. Because of Teresa.” Mario felt his voice about to crack. “We were to be married. The very weekend after Bravo team blew up the bridge that she was on.” He jerked from his seated position and stood over her. “I BEGGED Laughlin not to attack. I TOLD HIM…Murillo was not in that convoy. He was still in Bolivia. I told him!” He pounded his fist into the stone wall and his entire body shook with rage.
Lisa had to look away. “So did we.” She swallowed hard and fought the urge to cough on the grit still in the air. “Our spotter noted that the cars were full of women and children…” She felt the hot tears run down her face. “We told him to abort. He said it wasn’t his call.”
“The hell it wasn’t!” He pounded the wall again and small bits of rock rained down on her prone form. “He knew!” His voice cracked and he turned away.
Lisa took a deep breath and decided to try to keep him talking. “So why did you wait all these years?”
He scoffed and began to pace a slow circle. “I prayed. Every night I prayed to God to keep her alive.” He spun and pointed at her. “And He did! With the help of machines and the best doctors that money could buy…her body lived.” He stopped and he felt his shoulders jerk as he choked back sobs. “I should have prayed that she would recover.”
His legs went out from under him and he collapsed to the ground. “She was an angel. And I loved her so much…I couldn’t let her go.”
“She didn’t recover.”
He shook his head. “The doctors, the nurses, the physical therapists…they kept her body here for almost twenty years.” He spun on her and shook his head. “That is unheard of, si? Nobody lives in a vegetative state for that long. But Teresa did. Because I begged God to let her live.” He choked on the words and turned away. “And He did.”
“And when she finally passed, you came for your revenge. Killed Rob and sent people after the rest of us.”
He turned and stared at her, confusion on his face. He swiped at the dirt-stained tears and shook his head. “No. I didn’t kill Wolcott. He wasn’t part of that operation.”
Lisa’s face twisted. “The fuck you didn’t. He was the first one you killed!”
Mario dragged himself from the floor and came to his feet. “No, I didn�
��t. I sent assassins after the rest of Bravo team. Wolcott was flying sorties out of Bolivia for that entire month. YOU…you and Bravo…you were the ones who blew up the bridge.”
Lisa’s face fell. “Wait, so…you really didn’t kill Rob?”
“Why should I?” He stared at her in confusion. “I didn’t even know Rob was dead.”
“How did you track us down?”
He chuckled. “Your state department is so easily bought. It only cost a few hundred thousand dollars to get your locations.” He shrugged. “White, he was difficult to track down, but…”
“Wait…I’m confused.”
“No.” Mario waved his hand at her. “Enough talk.” He panned the torch around the floor of the cavern, searching for his AK47. “It is time to end this.” He spun a slow circle, looking for the golden reflection. “First you, then the others.”
Lisa felt panic rise in her chest. “I thought I was bait to bring the others in?”
Mario huffed. “Trust me, once I kill you, they’ll come looking for me. I’ll kill them then.” He stiffened then turned and gave her a brilliant smile. “Found it.”
She watched him move a few rocks away and pick up the gold plated rifle. “Time to make peace with whatever god you pray to.”
43
Near Quitman, TX
* * *
“Who the fuck are you?” Bridger barked, staring at the uniformed man.
“Commander Dillis.” He held his hand out and Bobby ignored it.
“Please, tell me his name is Dick,” Gregg giggled. “Tell me his name is Dick.”
Bridger gave him a stern look and he walked off, still giggling. “And what are you doing here?”
Dillis turned away, breaking eye contact. “We weren’t supposed to make contact.” He raised a brow. “But we removed the cartel members that were stationed…above ground.”
Burning Bridges Page 27
