by Rafael Hines
“When our man is absolutely certain that he’s next to Aziz Khan he will break off a recently placed false lead-lined cap on his tooth. Inside of that cap is a much higher dose of the liquid isotope that will combine with what is already in his system. We will then know exactly where he is, wherever he is. Even if he’s deep inside a mountain we’ll see him.”
Everyone in the room mulled this over for a second. Another Special Forces sergeant said aloud what everyone else was thinking.
“Just to be clear, General. This man is intentionally ingesting a lethal dose of radiation so we can pinpoint the meeting place with Aziz… and then he’s waiting for our bombers to dump their payload on his head?”
“That’s correct,” Palmer said stiffly.
“Who is this guy?”
“The brave man giving his life for this mission?”
“Yes sir. I’d like to know his name.”
“His name is Macho.”
“Macho? That’s for sure. Is he a local asset?”
“No he’s not. Macho Valdez is a civilian volunteer. He’s also the uncle of the man standing right behind you. Sergeant John Bishop.”
Every man in the room had turned to face John. They all nodded in unison, conveying their respect and admiration. A silent gesture far more powerful than words.
After the briefing the teams went to their barracks to wait for the go signal. It was a steamy summer afternoon in the Stan. Even with the AC on full blast the barracks felt hot and stuffy, but they all kept their gear on. Sitting on their bunks checking their weapons each of them thought about one thing: a man named Macho Valdez.
When General Palmer stepped through the door several hours later they were already on their feet locked and loaded. He spun his finger in the air and they all followed him out to the heliport.
Ten minutes later John and Bunny were sitting in the back of the fast moving Blackhawk flying low through the ravines. There were four other Special Ops helos racing behind them in a staggered formation. Wearing headphones, John stared straight ahead while they listened to the radio traffic between Bagram and the bombers cruising high above.
“We have target acquisition,” said the lead pilot of the B-2 Stealth Bomber squadron.
John gripped his M-4 assault rifle a little tighter. His uncle was about to die and he was listening to it happen in real time.
“You are free to engage Easy Rider. Repeat, Easy Rider, you are weapons free, over,” said the voice from Special Operations Command at Bagram.
“Roger. Going into attack.”
Bunny looked closely at his friend’s face and felt a familiar chill run through him. He’d seen the look before. The usually soft yellow eyes had turned a cold dark amber. The deep scar that carved through John’s brow and ended in his cheek appeared to pulse like a thick red vein engorged with blood. The square noble jaw was usually set firmly, yet now seemed deceptively relaxed and at ease. Bunny had seen this look before. It meant that Aziz and his men were better off dying from the airstrike. Death from the sky was far easier than facing the wrath of John Michael Bishop.
“Coming down,” the Stealth pilot said.
Chapter 38
Promises Kept
“Are you sick?” Aziz asked.
“Never better,” Macho said.
“You do not look well, my friend.”
Macho was fighting the last fight of his life against the poison that was quickly killing him. Despite the coolness of the cave his clothes were soaked through and sweat dripped from his face.
“I am not the man I once was Aziz. City living has made me soft… and the journey here was… difficult,” Macho said waving his hand dismissively.
He knew he was almost out of time. His vision was blurring and the slightest movement sent shock waves of pain through his body. He took a few deep breaths, trying to steady himself, when a vicious stabbing in his guts doubled him over in his chair. Macho was determined to die on his feet and used the edge of the table to pull himself up. He stood there swaying on shaky legs, staring at the man he was willingly giving his life to kill.
“What is this? What is wrong with you?”
“I came a long way to see you Aziz.”
“Yes you did.”
“To tell you something… before…”
“Before what?”
“Before I die.”
“Before I kill you little man,” Aziz said, removing his pistol from its holster.
“I am Macho Valdez.”
“I know.”
“You don’t. If you did, you wouldn’t have let me come. My family is proud and strong. We were once kings and once slaves. We survived hundreds of years of death and suffering. Our promises kept us alive. The promises to each other that we would stand together… face anything together… and the promises to our enemies that we would kill anyone who ever hurt our family.”
Aziz smiled at the threat, then casually shot Macho once in each leg. Macho looked down at the blood pumping from his thighs, but stayed on his feet. Looking up at Aziz he continued speaking as if nothing had happened.
“I am the son of Juan and Maria Valdez. Father to Christopher Valdez. You killed my son Aziz. I came here to keep my promise to him. I came here to kill you.”
Aziz quickly shot him once in each shoulder, but Macho still held his ground.
“I came here to watch you die.”
“Then you should have stayed home my friend,” Aziz said, pointing the pistol at Macho’s chest. Before he could fire the world exploded all around them. The bunker-busting bombs dropped from the planes above penetrated deep into the mountain’s face before detonating. When they did, the high ceiling and walls of the cave immediately collapsed sending razor sharp rock fragments and huge boulders down onto the men below. There was no time to duck or move. Some were ripped apart or flattened by the blast while the lucky few stood dazed, but untouched by the massive explosions.
Macho opened his eyes. Flat on his back he stared up through the huge gaping hole in the mountain and marveled at the myriad of colors in the sky. The setting sun had created a pallet of yellow, pink, orange, and purple hues across the clouds. A beautiful parting gift.
He heard a groan nearby and turned his head towards the sound. Through the dust and smoke he saw Aziz lying on his side only a few feet away. Long splinters from the wooden table were stuck in his face and eyes, his left arm was gone and his legs were pinned under a heavy stone slab.
Macho was beyond pain. He couldn’t feel anything as he inched his way along using his hands and feet to move slowly towards Aziz. Whether it took minutes or hours to get there was beyond him. He was in a void without any sense of time or space: only purpose.
“Aziz. Aziz, can you hear me?”
Macho thought he was too late until he felt the warm rancid breath being exhaled into his face and saw the pistol being raised towards him. He smiled and easily pulled the gun away from Aziz, then raised himself up to a sitting position with his shot up legs extended straight out in front of him.
“Like I told you pendejo, I’m Macho Valdez of la familia Valdez, and we keep our promises.”
It took everything he had to cock the pistol. Once he did he placed it firmly up against Aziz’ head. Aziz was blinded by the splinters that had pierced his eyes, but still turned his face up towards Macho.
“Your nephew is still marked for death.”
“We already killed your assassin, the woman named Omar.”
“No matter. More will come. The Tringas have never failed. Not in a thousand years.”
“As you said, no matter. All you need to know is that you are dead and I am the man that killed you.”
“Let me live and I will stop them. The life of your nephew is in your lands. Let me live and save him from certain death.”
“Let you live, huh?”
“Yes.”
“Who are these Tringas? Where do they come from?”
“An ancient family of assassins.”
Macho pushed the pisto
l harder into Aziz’ temple.
“Where?”
“Pakistan. They come from Pakistan, but you will never find them.”
“Unless I let you live.”
“You know you must. There is no other choice.” Aziz raised his open hand. “Give me the gun and all is forgiven my friend.”
Macho pulled the trigger. He didn’t flinch at the sound or blink from the recoil. He watched Aziz convulse and smoke drift out of the black hole in his head. The pistol felt suddenly too heavy to hold. It fell from his hand, landing in his lap. With a final effort he dipped his finger in his own blood and began writing a message on his shirt. He had to warn John before he died.
Special Ops Airborne Assault Team
In fading light just before sunset the five Special Ops birds flew over the target area.
“Holy shit! It’s hollow. The whole top of the mountain is hollow,” Bunny said.
John didn’t respond, but was no less amazed by what the bombing raid uncovered. The Bunker Busters had ripped the face off of a large section of the mountain, revealing the huge honeycombed network of caves, chambers and tunnels. They also revealed the dozens of armed men who survived the blast.
“There’s a fuckin’ army down there!” shouted the helicopter co-pilot.
“All I see are live targets,” the pilot said calmly. Pushing the stick forward, he took them into a steep dive.
The soldiers below raised their weapons skyward. John’s helo along with the others immediately began taking hits from AK-47 rounds pinging off their fusillades. The pilots went into attack. Firing rockets and mini-guns, they flew right into the mouth of the crater, mowing down anything that moved.
They made six runs at the enemy before landing on the plateau a hundred yards above Aziz’s formerly hidden headquarters. John was the first man out, with Bunny right behind him. He ran down the rough narrow path moving fast with his M-4 at the ready. John fired twice at a flash of movement to his left and saw an enemy soldier flop backwards. He kept going, jumping from rock to rock and sprinting forward whenever the trail evened out.
Bunny watched his back. He matched John stride for stride, but stayed ten feet behind to guard against an enemy sneak attack. Bunny froze in place when he saw John stop short and his raise his fist in the air, signaling him to stay put. A second later three armed fighters popped up, standing on top of a large boulder overlooking the path. Bam, bam, bam, John hit all three center mass and took off again. Bunny knew all three shots were fatal, but kept his weapon trained on the bodies until he was absolutely sure none of them were getting back up. He did a final scan of the area before running after his point man.
The path narrowed and took a sharp turn. When they came around the bend they saw the huge smoking hole in the side of the mountain. They both knew they were going in and they knew there were still dozens of live enemy soldiers hiding down below.
“We waiting for the troops?” Bunny asked.
“Negative. I’m on point. You’re on guns.”
“Got it.”
“And Bunny,” John said without looking back at his pal.
“Yeah?”
“Maria’s pregnant.”
“What? You’re going to be a father?”
“Yeah, and I’d really like to be there when my kid is born. So do me a favor. When these guys start shooting at me… don’t miss.”
“You got it, pops.”
The three A-Teams were close behind, but John couldn’t wait. Standing on what was once the roof of the main cave he used the smoke billowing up from below as cover and eased his way over the side. Holding onto to the lip, he lowered himself down and hung for a second before releasing his hands. Dropping into the semi-darkness, he landed like a cat fifteen feet down.
“Uncle Bunny. Got a nice ring to it,” he said out loud before he followed John into the abyss.
John was adjusting his eyes to the darkness with his M-4 pointed out into the gloom when Bunny crashed down hard onto the ground right next to him.
“You okay?” John asked.
Bunny groaned, but jumped up and unslung his rifle. “Never better. Let’s move.”
“Central blast point is at my twelve o’clock. That where we’ll find Macho.”
“Lead on Sarge.”
The birds were back on station, hovering fifty feet above them. Even with the roar of the helo engines they both heard the shouts of trapped and wounded men all around them. Bright pockets from the spotlights helped them see, but they were moving down into a dark murky world filled with sharp edges and armed insurgents.
There was no running here. John moved cautiously with Bunny right on his ass. He mentally calculated they were about fifty feet down. That’s when the roar of AK’s came straight at them. Bullets ricocheted off rocks and thudded into the dirt at their feet. John dove left and Bunny went right, ducking away from enemy fire that didn’t let up.
“Cover me Bun.”
Bunny got behind a stony ridge and put down suppressing fire. Aiming just above the AK-47 muzzle flashes ten yards away, he heard several men scream and their guns go silent. Bunny ducked down when, as planned, all the remaining fighters turned their weapons on him.
John crawled fast and low coming around on their left flank. There had been nine of them all together. The three bodies on the ground were a testament to Bunny’s marksmanship while the remaining six gunmen blasted away at him from behind a waist high wall. From fifteen feet away John shot two of them in the head and hit three more in the heart when they turned to face him. He swung his weapon towards the last target a second too late. He was too close to duck or run and that made him a dead man. The Afghan was looking right at him, already firing his AK. John exhaled deeply when the shots went wide. He watched the short bearded man sink to the ground from the three rounds that Bunny put in his back.
Bunny ran over with his rifle at his shoulder moving in a semi-circle to make sure there were no more hidden threats. They both looked up at the familiar sound of M-4 fire coming from above.
“The troops are here,” Bunny said, his weapon still at the ready.
“Let’s keep moving,” said John.
He led them to the center of the blast zone. They had both seen the effects of artillery strikes and bombing raids before, but never like this. There were body parts everywhere. Feet, heads, hands, arms, legs and sections of human beings that were beyond recognition were piled together in some areas and scattered about randomly in others. John felt something wet hit his shoulders. He knew he shouldn’t even look, but did anyway. Bunny followed his eyes up to the torso impaled on a spear shaped stalactite twenty feet above them. The intestines hung down to just above their heads, dripping blood one thick glob at a time.
“If this ain’t hell on earth I don’t know what is. Never seen anything like this, Johnny.”
“Me neither.”
At that moment spotlights illuminated an open area farther down in the crater. At first John wasn’t sure what he was seeing. He squinted and rubbed the dust out of his eyes. Then he sprinted over to the man that was sitting up with his finger on his chest.
“Tio?”
John looked down at his uncle. The powerful figure he had last seen three days ago in New York was gone, replaced by the broken body at his feet. Under a layer of dust and dirt, Macho had cuts all over him from the explosions. Blood flowed steadily from the four bullet wounds and more oozed slowly out of his eyes, nose, and mouth from the radiation poisoning.
“John?”
“It’s me, Uncle Macho.”
“I can’t see you,” he said, trying to blink the blood from his eyes.
“It’s okay, Tio. I’m right here.”
John bent down and reached out to touch him, but Bunny grabbed his arm and pulled it back. He shook his head no. Any contact without protective gear could be fatal.
“Don’t come close. The poison. It… it can…”
“I know Tio. It’s okay.”
“You see Aziz? You see
the body?”
“I see it.”
“I killed him. He killed my Chris and I came here and killed him.”
“You did.”
“He didn’t believe I could do it.”
“We all knew you would. We all knew it.”
“I’m glad you’re here.”
“I promised to bring you home Tio. I’m a Valdez. We keep our promises.”
“You remember.”
“Always. You taught me well.”
“Have to tell you… the message…”
“Tell me what?”
“Listen. Very important. The Tringas… Tringas are coming.”
“Tringas?”
“Pakistan… coming… coming for … you…”
“Tio? Tio!”
Bunny placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “He’s gone Johnny,” he said. “What a man. My God, what a man.”
They both stood there staring down at Macho, then crouched and turned at the sound of men running towards them. They lowered their weapons when General Palmer came trotting over with a large group of Green Berets behind him.
“Is that your uncle?”
“Yes sir.”
“He did it. He actually did it.”
“His whole life, he never let anyone down. If he said he was going to do something, it got done. No matter what, it got done,” John said.
“That’s a life well lived.” Palmer looked down at Macho again. “I want four men to form a perimeter. Eyes out, ears open. Everyone else gather round and take a knee.”
All the men formed a semi-circle and knelt in prayer.
“Look at this man before us. He gave his life for a true and just cause. We honor this fallen soldier as one of our own. Rest in peace Macho Valdez, rest in peace.”
The general crossed himself, stood up and said, “Don’t worry, John, we’ll take good care of him. There’ll be private plane ready for you and Bunny in the morning so you can bring your uncle home.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Son, it’s me and every man here that owes you and your family a debt I doubt we’ll ever be able to repay. This was your mission from start to finish. With the backing of two presidents and every military resource at my disposal I’ve been trying to kill Aziz Khan for the past eight years. I failed. But there’s that piece a shit lying there dead and gone. You and your family got it done in four days.”
