by Guy Johnson
“Where are you, puta? I’ve got a little present for you! Come out, come out, puta!”
Elizabeth knew that the light coming under the door would eventually reveal her presence. She waited until he was halfway into the room and squirted him again, but as soon as he heard the sound of the aerosol can he turned away. The insecticide fell harmlessly on the side of his head.
“I know your tricks now and I see where you are!”
“Then come and get me, you useless piece of shit!” Elizabeth taunted. “Let’s see how tough you really are!” She had to lure him closer.
Alejandro ran toward her. “I’ll kill you! I’ll kill—”
Elizabeth waited until the last possible moment then opened the door and Rex burst into the room and saw Alejandro. The dog leaped on the man, who was unable to stop his forward progress. Both man and dog fell in a tangle of legs and arms and fur. The dog’s ferocious snarls filled the little room. Elizabeth slipped out the door and unhooked Rex’s chain then ran up the stairs. She pushed open the door and slammed it behind her. She heard the sound of running feet coming toward her and slipped behind some heavy drapes that hung beside a tall window. The footsteps ran past her and faded in the distance. The sound of machine-gun fire was much louder on the first floor. Elizabeth knew she had to get out of the building. There were shouts and cries of pain coming from outside. She didn’t know what or who was out there, but she knew she could fare no worse with them than with San Vicente. She headed to the stairs that led to an upper-floor walkway, hoping against hope that Jackson would be there.
Sunday, July 25, 1982
Jackson stood at the prow of the Sampson, a seventy-five-foot motor cruiser, as it rocked slowly back and forth on gentle waves. A soft summer breeze rose out of the west. The distant coastline of Baja California lay to the east like a thin layer of chocolate icing on the shimmering blue of the temperate sea. It was a warm and easy twilight. The red-orange sun had just set on the shining, magenta horizon of the Pacific Ocean. The sky was cloudless, yet filled with shades of red and purple. A pale half-moon rose in the southern sky. Jackson leaned over and studied the rolling water, lapping in rhythm against the cruiser’s hull. He was lost in thought. What if each one of these waves had its own individual sentient, pulsing life and not one had a clearer picture of its destiny than a mortal human? The waves could no more change their direction than he could. He wondered whether he shared the same destiny, whether his life too would break apart on some foreign shore. He chuckled to himself. So be it. He could not turn away this time and abandon the one he loved. If death should come, he asked only to die bravely.
The trip from San Francisco down to Playa Rosalía had been long and arduous for him. The private plane had taken off from Oakland at five-fifteen in the morning, which had been particularly ungodly because he had been unable to sleep at all the night before. He had spent his sleepless time taping pairs of M16 magazines together so that when the first was spent the second could easily be flipped around in its place. Then, because they were taking over eighteen hundred pounds of guns, ammunition, and equipment, he and Carlos had to be at the airport at three-thirty to make sure everything was loaded properly. The flight to San Diego had taken ninety minutes, at which point they had transferred all of their gear to the Sampson, which was anchored in the yacht harbor. Tavio and Diego, who had flown down the night before, met them on the tarmac by the plane with a truck and a small bus. All the equipment was offloaded into the truck and driven to the harbor, where it again was picked up and hauled aboard the motor cruiser. The Sampson’s captain and his two-man crew had the cruiser nosing out of the harbor and heading south toward Baja California at eighteen knots before eleven o’clock.
At twelve o’clock the attack team had a two-hour briefing on assignments over sandwiches. Jackson laid out the general plan of attack. The raid was designed to take a maximum of forty minutes. After that time had elapsed, everyone would be transported back to the boat, with or without Elizabeth.
At five-thirty Jackson came out on the prow to be alone and to think. He directed his thoughts to Elizabeth, to the times that they had made love. He remembered the unending softness of her dark brown skin, the firmness of her lips, the flashing brightness of her large, brown eyes, the rise of her breasts, the flatness of her stomach, and the strength in her legs; but the most consuming memory was the sense of exaltation and completeness that he had felt as he rested in her arms after they had both climaxed. Further thoughts were interrupted by the sound of powerful outboard engines drawing near.
When the motorboat drew alongside, Jackson went down to greet Julio and Reuben. He exchanged hugs with both men and afterward, Julio leaned over and whispered in his ear, “Blood bothers until we die.”
Jackson replied, “Let us hope that when our time does come, we’re as old as my grandfather and tired of living.” Jackson led the way to the conference room and introduced the Ramirez brothers to the rest of the team. There was a brief overview of the plans once more and then the equipment was offloaded into the motorboat. The darkness of night had finally settled and the thirty-minute ride to the coast was guarded over by millions of stars twinkling overhead. Jackson was reminded of his first boat ride as a child to see his grandfather, yet other than the presence of the stars there was no similarity.
They docked at a dilapidated pier in a small, dark, deserted cove. While they transferred their equipment and gear to the waiting panel trucks, two dirt bikes for Tavio and Diego were rolled out of the back of one of the trucks. As the men donned their motorcycle helmets and strapped bags holding the rocket launchers to their backs, Jackson thanked them for their assistance and wished them luck. Shortly after they roared off, the trucks got under way. Jackson rode up front with Julio while Carlos and Reuben drove the other vehicle. A mile from San Vicente’s mansion, Julio pulled off the road and drove to a construction site. When he got out Jackson slid over behind the wheel. He watched Julio walk over and climb up on a big bulldozer. Once Julio had the big machine started, Jackson pulled the truck back on the main road and followed the other truck to San Vicente’s mansion. Within a half mile of their objective, the headlights were turned off and the remainder of the way was driven in darkness.
San Vicente’s compound was a quarter of a mile off the main road and was built on a small knoll behind shrub-covered ridges of low, rolling hills. The main house sat on the apex of the knoll while the perimeter walls were built around its base. From a distance, its lights made it look like a small Mediterranean city. The trucks turned onto a narrow, rutted road and drove into a small gully, where they parked. Guns were checked and plans were gone over once more while they awaited the arrival of the bulldozer. They climbed the small hill, making their way through the thatch and brush carrying crates of rockets and ammunition. Once they reached the crest of the hill, three pairs of binoculars were passed around as time was spent studying the compound, which was three hundred yards away. In the far distance colorful fireworks could be seen exploding in the night sky.
Carlos crouched down and began drawing a diagram of the compound in the dirt with a short stick. A particularly bright firework flared briefly. He commented, “It looks like they’re partying even in the suburbs of Tijuana.”
“Let’s hope they’re partying as heavily at San Vicente’s house,” Pres replied as he knelt down beside Carlos. “Where do you want us to fire the rockets from?”
“Right here would be good, but remember, they have rockets too. Once you get off four or five quick shots, you’ve got to move. You’ve got to cover the distance between here and the outer wall in three minutes. If you don’t hit the tower by the arch above the gate, they’ll turn the exterior lights on you. If that happens, you may not have even three minutes. Make sure your second round of shots hit the antenna and the satellite dish.”
“Don’t worry,” Dominique said as she hoisted her rocket launcher. “We won’t miss. I’ve used these before. We’ll take out the tower and the whole fro
nt side.”
“Good!” Carlos said with a nod. He pointed the stick at the diagram. “We’ll come in from here and hit the barracks, the power plant, and the communications room. We don’t want to be hit by your rockets, so confine your targets to this area until you enter the gates and see where we are.”
Pres nodded, “No problem! Once we get inside the gate, we’ll provide a crossfire for whoever needs it.”
Reuben walked over and asked, “How are you planning to handle the dogs?”
Jackson, who was stooping over Pres and Carlos, questioned, “How many are we talking about?”
Reuben exhaled. “I’ve heard he has as many as ten and they are all trained killers. In fact, he brags about setting his dogs loose on people who’ve crossed him or just generally pissed him off.”
Jackson began, “Well, if they’re in a kennel—”
“We’ll make sure that no one lets them out!” Dominique concluded firmly.
Dan said in a subdued voice, “Sounds like the ’dozer is close.”
Carlos stood up. “All right! Let’s get to our positions!”
Jackson said, “Just a minute!” He stretched out his hand, palm down, and asked, “Please put your right hand on mine!” Pres clapped his hand down on Jackson’s with a smile. He was followed by Carlos, Lincoln, Reuben, and the rest. Once all hands were in, Jackson put his other hand on top and said with a determined tone, “We don’t know what this evening brings. So I swear you this oath now, to each and every one. No injured will be left behind! We come together. We shall leave together. May God smile upon us and may this evening’s end see us all rejoicing!” There was an emphatic pressing down of hands, and members of the team turned away to move through the shrubbery toward the south gate.
Dan, followed by Lincoln, walked up to Jackson and Pres, who were shaking hands, and Dan said, “I love it when you speak that urban Shakespearean shit!”
Jackson put his arm around Lincoln and Dan’s shoulders and said, “Alamo Square Rangers forever!” The men released and turned away.
The attack began as planned. Pres and Dominique destroyed the first guard tower, the antenna, the dish, and the front wall with their rockets. The bulldozer broke through the south gate. Julio and Reuben fired their rockets into the power plant, reducing it to rubble within minutes. Next they turned their fire on the second guard tower and knocked it out of commission with direct hits. Things were moving on schedule until a large-caliber machine gun began firing down from the roof. No one had foreseen that San Vicente would mount a heavy machine gun in one of the attic dormer windows. In the darkness, the continuous discharge of the big gun could clearly be seen. The sounds of explosions, the whistling of bullets, and the deep ack-ack of the heavy machine gun filled the air. The heavy gun covered the interior of the compound and it poured an endless stream of bullets down on the Caterpillar which ricocheted off its raised shovel blade. Bullets were flying everywhere, kicking up the dirt, deflecting off the walls and chipping away their stucco finish. All seven of the attacking party were pinned behind the Caterpillar for precious minutes by the south gate until Pres and Dominique were able to hit the dormer window with rockets. A huge plume of flames flared into the air as the roof exploded.
The covering dark of twilight was now gone. The moon, half full and bright, had risen above the dark horizon, and it cast its pale light, making visible what had previously been hidden. The precious minutes lost had given the men in the barracks time to get their weapons and make a stand of it, and allowed snipers to take their positions on the roof.
With Dan and Lincoln providing covering fire, Julio and Reuben began firing rockets at the outlying buildings. Jackson, Carlos, and Esteban left the cover of the bulldozer and headed across the open courtyard. Bullets kicked up grass and sod around them. They crossed over into a cobblestone plaza and had to take cover in the shadows behind a large, imposing fountain. Despite the fact they were in the shadows, bullets still pinged off the cobblestones near them while errant shots whizzed over their heads as San Vicente’s men fired from their barracks.
Carlos crawled over next to Jackson. “Keep your head down! They’ve got our range!”
“How the hell can they tell where we are? I can barely see the roof from here!”
“Infrared! We can’t stay here! They can move around and get a clear shot of us!” Carlos pulled some objects from a pouch and said, “I’ve got a couple of flash grenades. They should cover our run to the house! Put your goggles on!” Carlos pulled the pins and lobbed them at the other side of the fountain. As soon as they exploded all three men were up and running. There were a few shots, but the bullets caromed harmlessly off the cobblestones. They made the sheltering cover of the eaves and stood against the exterior wall of the main house out of the way of the heavy tile and pieces of the roof, which were still falling on the cobblestones from the rocket blasts.
Jackson was removing his goggles when a man carrying two machine pistols burst through a door. Esteban hit him in the chest with a burst from his automatic rifle. The man fell down and then struggled to his feet firing his pistols, spraying bullets in all directions. Esteban, Jackson, and Carlos hugged the wall behind a jutting facade as a fusillade of whistling lead sped past them. The bullets stopped suddenly as covering fire from across the square centered on the man. Carlos pulled the pin and threw a hand grenade around the corner in the man’s direction. The explosion shattered windows and rattled the door through which the man had come. There was more fire from across the square and then silence.
Jackson poked his head around the corner and was heading for the door when he heard a piercing whistle. He looked across the square and saw Dan pointing above him to an upper balcony of the main house. Jackson started to move away from the building to get a better look.
Carlos warned, “Don’t step out there!” and he grabbed Jackson’s arm, pulling him back close to the building. “Do you want to give them a clear shot?”
Jackson questioned, “What was Dan pointing at?”
“You’ll live to see it, if you remember caution is the first step in all things. Oh, damn!” Carlos gestured across the square. “What is your friend doing? He’s making himself a target!”
Jackson followed Carlos’s hand and saw that Dan was climbing a partially destroyed spiral staircase to get on the catwalk between the ruins of the communications center and the main house. No sooner had Dan started across the catwalk than automatic-rifle fire started chipping away the stucco around him. He ducked down behind the stucco walls.
Carlos exhaled. “He’s in a death trap up there. They don’t even have to know where he is. All they have to do is continue to spray bullets up and down that catwalk and eventually a ricochet will find him.” As if signaled by Carlos’s statement, a hail of bullets raked across the catwalk, pinging off the stucco. The bullets were answered by rifle fire and rockets from the rest of the team. There were more explosions along the roofline. Falling pieces of smoking debris and roofing tile shattered on the ungiving cobblestones.
Jackson started for the doorway again, only to be stopped once more by an exclamation from Carlos.
Jackson looked back across the square to see Rhasan climbing the stairs leading to the catwalk. Several shots splintered the wall near him as he continued up the stairs. It was useless to call to him amid the sound of automatic weapons. Jackson studied the length of the main house, searching for the source of the bullets firing on Rhasan. He saw the discharge of a gun from an upper window in a projecting wing of the house. He hefted his rifle to his shoulder and waited a few seconds then emptied his magazine into the lower part of the window. He popped the clip out and flipped it around and plugged home its unused partner. He waited for more shots from the window, but there were none. There was now only the intermittent firing from across the square.
He heard Rhasan shout, “Elizabeth! She’s here! But she’s pinned down by a sniper on the roof!” Jackson turned immediately and ran into the main house followed by
Carlos and Esteban. There was a flight of narrow stairs leading to the second floor, which he took three at a time. Under the dim light of a bulb on the landing, he took a quick look around then pushed the door onto the balcony open a few inches and peered out. He saw Elizabeth crouching down in the shadows under an eave. He searched the roofline for the sniper but could see no one in the darkness. Then he saw the outline of a man’s torso as he was preparing to make a throwing motion. As Jackson swung his rifle up, a shot rang out across the plaza and the man fell backward. An explosion blew the man’s body into the air, flinging it off the roof down to the cobblestones below.
Esteban pushed past Jackson. “Let me go first! There may be more snipers.”
Jackson grabbed his arm. “Thank you, my friend, but this is my job.” He slipped out the door, staying in the shadows under the eaves.
“Elizabeth? Elizabeth, are you all right?” When she heard his voice she sprang to her feet and ran into his arms.
Elizabeth laid her head in the crook of his neck. “God! Oh, God! I hoped and dreamed it was you! St. Clair!”
Jackson gripped her fiercely and growled, “I told you I would come! Only divine intervention could’ve stopped me! You mean everything to me! There is nothing without you!”
Carlos tapped his shoulder. “Let’s get out of here! We don’t know how many soldiers are left. We wait too long, they could regroup and then we’ll be fighting to get out of here. Then, of course, the police will come eventually.” There were three long blasts of a whistle. Everyone looked across the square to see Julio and Reuben waving the all-clear sign as they ran toward another entry into the main house. Lincoln was climbing the sagging stairs to the catwalk.
