Retribution

by Brent Towns

Hawk shrugged. “I’m good with that.”

  “OK. That’s all from me for the moment, Luis. If you or your team have any questions, let me know.”

  Ferrero nodded. “Thank you, General.”

  Jones disappeared, leaving Turner on the screen, alone.

  “Keep me up to speed, Luis. Same goes for me, if you need anything, let me know.”

  “Thank you, Mike.”

  Then he, too, was gone.

  Ferrero turned to Kane. “What do you think, Reaper?”

  “I’d say we’ve got some shit to organize.”

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  Retribution, The next day

  Kane stood in front of the satellite picture, his face plastered with a scowl. No matter how he looked at it, the answer he kept coming up with was the same.

  “You look troubled, my friend,” Arenas observed as he and Cara approached.

  “What’s up, Reaper?” Cara asked.

  “Look at this,” he said, running a finger over the picture. “We’ve all been over this, right? We infiltrate here and move along the channel. We reach this point here and split up. I take Traynor with me and Arenas takes Hawk. I do the lab, Arenas goes for Montoya. Cara, on the other hand, takes up position here.”

  Kane stabbed a straightened finger at the rooftop of the right-side building.

  “She takes up overwatch after she takes care of those on the roof. But if the shit hits the fan, she can’t cover us all. Which makes us short one shooter.”

  The Mexican special forces captain stared at the picture intently and then nodded. “Yes. So, we shift her.”

  Cara sighed. “I’m right here, guys. Should I get a say?”

  They looked at her. Kane asked, “What do you think?”

  “I agree with Carlos. I reckon I’d be better situated here.” She pointed at the main building. “However, I agree too, that we’re a shooter short. If we had another, then we could take out those on building one and then those on two and three. After which, we could provide overwatch.”

  Kane gave a satisfied nod. “I agree.”

  “Do you have someone in mind?”

  “Yeah, I do,” he said, then turned away and walked towards Ferrero’s desk.

  Cara and Arenas watched Kane and their boss discuss something before the latter picked up the phone. He spoke for five or so minutes and consulted with the Reaper team leader twice before he hung up. Both men seemed satisfied, and Kane left Ferrero to his paperwork and walked back to where Cara and Arenas waited.

  “All set?”

  “Who did you get?” Cara asked.

  He gave her a wry smile. “You’ll see.”

  “Uh huh.”

  His face grew serious again. “When we go in, I want you to take an extra weapon. Think you can handle it?”

  “Sure.”

  “OK. Along with your M110, I want you to take an HK416 with an M203 attached. You too, Carlos. I want the extra fire-power. I’ll have a 203 as well. Since you’re our armorer, Cara, make sure it happens. If we don’t have the gear we need, then get it. Whether it comes here or it’s on the chopper, I don’t care.”

  Cara said, “I’ll get on it.”

  “I’ll help her,” Arenas said. He looked at Cara. “If that is OK with you?”

  “The more, the merrier.”

  Off the coast

  Acapulco

  “Shit, Reaper, when they told me you were leading this mission, I told them they were fucking crazy,” the big man said as he took Kane’s hand in a firm grip.

  “If you’d asked me six months ago whether I’d be doing this, then I would have said the same, Axe.”

  Axel “Axe” Burton, marine recon sniper (MARSOC). As good as they come and then some. Kane had worked with him a few times over the years. He knew of only one better. Chip.

  He was a tall, broad-shouldered man, in his early thirties. Single, good-looking, and would hump anything that moved. Some said that even if it didn’t move, old Axe would push it.

  “How’s Hammer? I heard you two were working together.”

  “He’s dead.” Nothing else, no other way to say it.

  Axe’s face dropped. “That’s fucked.”

  “Yeah.”

  Ten minutes earlier, the helicopter had dropped the team to a beat-up freighter that looked like it deserved to be in some scrapyard instead of sailing the oceans. But looks could be deceiving, and the NSA had created the nondescript look it wanted, and in fact, the ship was as sound as the next one.

  The name on the stern said: Artoro. The script beneath it said: Panama.

  “So, what gives, brother?” Axe asked Kane.

  “Let’s get inside, and you can meet the team. I’ll fill you in along the way.”

  Artoro, The following day

  Below decks in one of the converted hold spaces, Kane held the team’s final briefing. He stood in front of a satellite map with a laser pointer. The thump, thump of the freighter’s motors seemed to vibrate throughout the entire ship.

  “OK, for those of you who haven’t met yet, I’ll introduce you to our escort for tonight. Chief, you guys want to step up here?”

  There was movement, and four men stepped forward to position themselves beside Kane.

  “This here is Chief Hunt and his men. The chief is our driver tonight on the SOC-R which will be inserting us.”

  Hunt nodded.

  “After the briefing, get to know these guys, be nice, or he’ll make you walk home.”

  “Wouldn’t be the first time,” Axe joked.

  “All right,” Kane continued. “We’ll go over it one more time. Listen up –”

  Axe gave a fake yawn. “Wake me up when you’re done, Reaper.”

  A chuckle went around the group.

  Kane smiled. “Shut your hole, Axe, and listen.”

  “I’m all ears, Admiral.”

  Kane used the pointer. “After we’re inserted, we’ll make our way to here.”

  The red dot settled on the mouth of the inlet.

  “We traverse the inlet until we reach this point and then we’ll split up. Myself and Traynor will go for the lab up here in these trees. Carlos and Hawk get the prize; Montoya. Axe and Cara, take the rooftop of the main building, silence the guards on the other rooftops, and then provide overwatch for us. We want to do this as quietly as possible. I’d rather we had no noise until the explosives go bang.”

  “What happens if it all kicks off?” Axe asked.

  “The only heavy support we’ll have is the M203s on the 416s we’ll be using,” Kane explained. “You and Cara will have one each, Carlos and I will have one as well. Use them sparingly and kill anything that isn’t a friendly.”

  Axe nodded, satisfied.

  “Teller informs me we’ll have an eye in the sky for a while,” Kane said, and turned to Hunt. “Is that right?”

  Hunt said, “Yes, we have a Raven. Once we stand off and you guys radio us that you’re in position, we’ll put it aloft. You’ll have ninety minutes, tops. After that, you’ll lose the window.”

  “At least that’s something,” Cara acknowledged.

  Kane shifted his gaze to Arenas. “If you and Hawk get inside and secure Montoya without any hassle, stay put until we’re ready to extract. If not, bundle him up and head for the beach. If you need to terminate him at any point, do it.”

  “Sí.”

  “Cara, you and Axe hold that rooftop. If the op goes south, we’ll be relying on you to keep them off our backs. Even though we’ll have an eye in the sky, the Raven can only see so much.”

  “Copy.”

  “OK. For this op, callsigns are as follows. I’m Reaper One, Arenas, Two, Traynor, Three. Hawk is Four, Cara, Eagle One, Axe, Two. Our support is Bravo, and Chief Hunt is Scimitar. Any questions?”

  They remained silent.

  “OK. Low tide is at twenty-two hundred. Have everything ready to go before then.”

  The inlet

  “Reaper One? Scimitar. Raven is air
borne, over.”

  “Copy, Scimitar. Raven is in the air. Bravo Three, do you have visual?”

  “Copy, Reaper One. I have visual.”

  “Roger. Out.”

  In the background, the crash of waves on the broad sandy beach seemed loud in the stillness of the night. Kane tightened his grip on the silenced HK416 and scanned the other side of the channel through his NVGs. Everything seemed clear.

  He said in a low voice, “Reaper Two, move out.”

  “Copy.”

  Arenas pushed past him through the stunted shrubs and eased into the salt water of the channel. Reaper followed him and was soon up to his chest. Behind him came Cara, and at the rear of the column was Axe.

  “Reaper One? Bravo Three. Confirm two men on each of the main buildings.”

  “Copy.”

  “Reaper, you have a mobile patrol at your eleven o’clock. Thirty yards out.”

  “Copy.”

  Arenas stopped. Raised his left arm a fraction and then lowered it slowly. Behind him, the entire team sank below the surface.

  Kane counted off the time in his mind and then resurfaced. The others followed suit.

  Arenas slowly moved forward again.

  Under his feet, Kane could feel the uneven bottom. Every now and then he felt a rock and had to change stride to accommodate it.

  The pace was agonizingly slow, but if they were to succeed, that’s the way it needed to be. On missions such as this, to rush might lead to carelessness which could get them killed.

  Up ahead the bridge loomed large. As indicated by the intel provided, a heavily-armed cartel man was stationed at either end.

  Arenas never hesitated. He dropped lower in the water until everything below his nose was under the surface and proceeded beneath the bridge.

  As Kane moved soundlessly under the timber construction, he could hear the pair speaking in Spanish, too low for him to make out what they were saying.

  To their left, above the bank of the inlet, the last of three large resort buildings reached upward into the darkness. All ten levels of it.

  The team proceeded another fifty meters before Arenas stopped again. They’d reached the location designated as the break-off point. Kane toggled his mic.

  “Bravo Three? Reaper One. Over.”

  “Copy, Reaper One.”

  “We’ve reached Alpha, Bravo Three. Do you have eyes on?”

  “Roger, Reaper One. The path to building one is clear until you reach the entrance. Two guards on the door. Over.”

  “Copy, out.”

  “You get that, Reaper Two?”

  “Copy.”

  “Move out.”

  Arenas walked towards the bank and eased his way up over the edge and disappeared. Hawk followed him a short time afterward. As Cara moved past Kane, he said, “Watch yourself.”

  She nodded, and when Axe moved in beside Kane, he whispered, “What about me? Going to tell me to be careful?”

  “I hope a Tango puts a round between your eyes.”

  “Nice, brother. Nice.”

  Kane watched him crawl over the bank and then turned to Traynor. “You ready?”

  “Copy.”

  Team 2

  Arenas weaved his way through the overgrown shrubs towards the side entrance where the two guards were stationed. Above him, some large palm tree fronds caught a gentle breeze and rustled. He stopped behind a low shrub and took a knee.

  Hawk came to his shoulder and did the same. “What’s up?”

  Arenas parted some of the growth and showed him the sentries. Through the grainy green of the night vision, he could see them on either side of the doorway. They’d reached their target building. The special forces commander whispered, “You take the one on the left.”

  “Roger.”

  Hawk and Arenas brought their silenced HKs up. The laser sights settled on the targets and Arenas said quietly, “Now.”

  Crack, crack.

  The guards jerked from the impact of the two 5.56 rounds and slid to the ground in silence.

  Immediately, Arenas and Hawk were moving forward. When they reached the fallen figures, they shot them once more at close range, then quickly dragged the corpses into the lush undergrowth.

  Arenas spoke into his mic, “Bravo Three? Reaper Two. Tangos down. Need location of Montoya, over.”

  “Reaper Two? Bravo Three. The infrared on the Raven indicates the only heat signatures inside are on the fifth level. Suggest you try there.”

  “Copy. Going up. Out.”

  Arenas and Hawk entered the building. Behind them were Cara and Axe.

  They moved silently up the stairwell like wisps of smoke on a breeze. The scent within the enclosed space was that of damp caused by the constant high humidity.

  As they were passing the second floor, a door above them opened. The clang of the closing door was followed by footsteps on the stairs. Arenas waved them back.

  At the rear of the small column, Axe made a call and cracked open the second-floor door. On the other side was an empty hallway with doors branching off each side at regular intervals. He brought up his HK and moved inside. Behind him, Cara and the others followed as the footsteps coming down the stairs grew louder.

  The musty smell was stronger now, the odor coming from the carpet of the disused level. The four team members spread out on either side of the door and waited with bated breath for whoever it was to be gone.

  Then Arenas realized something. Whoever was going down would go out the door where the guards were meant to be. On noticing their absence, they would more than likely raise the alarm. He cursed under his breath and turned to the person nearest to him. It was Cara.

  “We have to stop him,” he whispered to her. “If he gets downstairs, he will find those others.”

  Cara nodded. “OK.”

  Arenas let the HK416 hang by its strap and drew out a black-bladed knife. Cara took the M110 from her shoulder and leaned it against the wall. She did the same with her HK. Then she stood in full view of the doorway and said. “Do it.”

  Outside in the stairwell, the footsteps were at their loudest. Arenas reached out and tapped the hilt of his knife on the door.

  The footsteps stopped.

  He did it again.

  They watched as the handle turned and the door swung wide. The cartel man’s jaw dropped when he saw Cara standing there. She smiled at him and said, “Hi.”

  “Mi Dios, una puta!” he gasped in a hoarse voice.

  The knife in Arenas’ hand arced around and struck the gaping man in the throat; his other hand grabbed the front of the man’s shirt and dragged him forward into the hallway.

  The Mexican started to gurgle, blood flowing from his mouth. Arenas pulled the knife to the right with a violent action which opened the dying man’s throat all the way, easing the body to the floor as Cara closed the door.

  Arenas wiped the blade on the dead man’s shirt and put it away.

  “He’s fucked,” Axe observed.

  The special forces officer stared at his watch. They were behind schedule. “We must keep moving.”

  Cara snatched up her weapons, and they all slipped back out into the stairwell.

  Team 1

  After Kane and Traynor left the inlet, they moved through the brush and large palm trees around the edge of the lagoon. Up in one of the bigger trees, the cook-cook-cook-cook sound of a Pacific Screech Owl could be heard.

  Over the comms, Kane heard Arenas report the takedown of the two guards at the doorway, and that teams two and three were entering the main building.

  When he and Traynor reached the first in a line of bungalows at the lagoon’s edge, they stopped. Kane whispered, “The lab should be just up ahead in those trees.”

  So far, they’d been lucky with the roving patrols. They’d encountered one and had let it slip by. Now he needed some intel on what lay ahead. “Bravo Three? Reaper One. Copy? Over.”

  “Copy, Reaper One. Go ahead.”

  “We’ve re
ached the first bungalow. I need a count on Tangos around the lab, over.”

  “Copy. The count is six. I say again, six. Over.”

  “Roger, Bravo Three. The count is six. Out.”

  Kane looked at Traynor. “Let’s go.”

  They moved forward once more with Kane sweeping left and front while Traynor covered their right and rear. Once past the bungalow, they slipped into the stand of trees. When he sighted the target building, Kane stopped again.

  With the help of his night vision, he was able to pinpoint the first couple of guards. He used hand signals to indicate their positions to Traynor, then motioned their next move.

  Both brought up their weapons, laser sights trained on the two men. With selector switched to semi-auto, Kane whispered, “Now.”

  They achieved the same outcome as had Arenas and Hawk when the two cartel men jerked and sank to the damp ground.

  “Reaper One? Bravo Three. You still have one guard on either side and two behind the building, over.”

  “Copy, Bravo Three,” he said and then to Traynor, “You sweep right, and I’ll go left. There are four more.”

  The two separated and edged along the sides of the building. Kane peered around the corner of the lab and saw his target. The man was lazy, standing still, a lit cigarette hanging from his mouth, and couldn’t have made Kane’s task any easier.

  Reaper centered the laser sight on the side of the man’s head and squeezed the trigger. With a wet thwack, the 5.56 round blew out the side of his skull, and he fell to the ground.

  “Tango down.”

  Kane edged along the wall until he reached the rear corner. He peered around it and saw the two remaining guards. Once more, the HK spat venom and both men died.

  “Reaper Three, copy?”

  “Copy.”

  “Both Tangos down at the rear, over.”

  “Roger. Mine is now singing with the angels, over.”

  “Copy, meet you at the front.”

  When they entered the coke lab, it took them a while to comprehend what lay before them. Even when he’d been in Columbia, Kane had never seen anything quite like it. And because the lights were on, they saw it all.