Sean picked up the cell and stopped himself short of calling. One drive-by, he thought. No point calling until he knew what they were up against. As he entered the street, the main question that had been racing through his head was answered. Why had nobody reported the kidnap and shooting? Simple, other than the target’s house at the end of the street, the rest of the houses were in darkness. All were unoccupied, either unfinished or probably brand new. Victims of the downturn and unaffordable.
Sean stopped the car before entering the street. With no other occupants and being at the back of the estate, drive-byes were going to be few and far between. No point in advertising his arrival, particularly after such a warm welcome earlier in the day. Sean stepped out of the air conditioned Corolla and gasped at the warmth still in the air. Why the hell people wanted to live here, he had no idea; it must have been almost 90 degrees and it was after nine at night. Sean tucked the Glock and the Jimenez pistol into his belt and quietly closed the car door. A small path cut behind the nearest house and, if the Sat Nav were right, it led to the lakeside. As he neared the lake, he slipped the Jimenez out of his belt and threw it as far as possible into the lake. It really was a piece of junk and would be rust by dawn. The Glock, on the other hand, was an entirely different prospect and he patted it, taking comfort from the hard angular edges digging into his skin.
Sean eased himself over the wall into the target property and crouched low against the wall. The garden offered little cover. A large expanse of grass gave way to an oversized pool, no shrubs or bushes to assist Sean, just a vast open expanse of garden. Fortunately, security lighting, like all the other properties he had passed, appeared to be exclusively for the front of the house. Apparently in Laredo, burglars didn’t use the back door. Sean edged forward and was suddenly assaulted by a wave of light. Sean threw himself over the wall and tucked himself tight in against it. Apparently in Laredo, the security lights out front were for show and the ones at the rear were triggered by motion sensors. Sean kicked himself for being so stupid but in Afghanistan, his enemies were lucky to have batteries for their torches, never mind multi million watt security lighting systems.
After a number of loud Spanish conversations, the lights shut down and darkness was restored. The two watchers had obviously concluded it was a wild animal that had triggered the lights, neither it seemed, was keen to explore further than the back deck, which suited Sean perfectly. It did, however, leave him with somewhat of a dilemma; how the hell was he going to find out anything from the wrong side of the garden wall?
Sean remained seated, his back to the wall. From what he had seen of the back garden, there was no possibility of getting anywhere near the house undetected and going by the earlier propensity for shooting, that included doing so alive. The rear wasn’t an option which left the sides and front of the house. Sean took a peak over the wall. The wall to the side of the house was still a good distance and he had to assume was afforded the same protection as the rear. So the rear and sides were out. He’d trigger the lights almost as soon as he’d set foot in the garden. That left the front, in its permanent state of daylight but that, in itself, had one major advantage. It wouldn’t react to Sean’s presence.
***
Katie Fox flinched as the lights exploded at the rear of the house. Her nerves couldn’t take much more. They had her baby and she knew they would kill him without a second thought. She began to shake involuntarily. The rear lights were set to react to only very large mammals. Her husband had got fed up with them bursting on and off throughout the night and had set them to their least sensitive mode. If the lights had come on, somebody was out there, not something, and that somebody was going to get her baby killed.
Her watchers grabbed their guns and rushed out of the back door, both screaming at each other. If it were the police or somebody coming to the rescue, they were going to be easy targets, but after a few minutes, the watchers returned. Katie spoke Spanish fluently and realized they thought the lights had been triggered by a raccoon or a coyote.
Katie looked at the photo of her baby. He was all she had left in the world. No other family, it was just her and James against the world. Up until three months earlier, life had been perfect in their own little world. Sean, James and she had been so happy. Then the parcel arrived, the memory of which would live with her until her last breath. A week later, right after the funeral, the watchers had arrived and she had been living under their gaze ever since. She hadn’t even had a chance to grieve properly; the men allowed her no time alone. Even at night her bedroom door had to remain open, while one was stationed at the door. James had slept beside her since Sean had died and that night was the first either of them would be alone. The tears started to flow as she thought of James, frightened and alone. He was just a baby, in a strange place, surrounded by people he didn’t know.
As the doorbell chimed, she automatically looked at the clock, 9.30 p.m. Nobody she knew would come to the house at that time of night.
“Quién es?” asked Miguel, the older of the watchers.
Katie could do nothing but shrug her shoulders, panic had already sunk in. The thought of anybody interfering and causing her son to be killed consumed her.
“Get rid of them!” he ordered, pulling her from her seat and handing her a handkerchief as he led her to the door.
Hector appeared from the back of the house and gave the all-clear sign. Whatever was happening was all at the front. Miguel waved him out of the hallway and back into the living room, out of sight of the door. Miguel took up station on the wrong side of the door. As she unlocked the latch, Miguel pointed his gun at her and put his finger to his lips. The message was loud and clear, say nothing of him or Hector.
Katie opened the door slowly, trying desperately to recapture at least some composure. She knew her son’s life depended on how she reacted to whatever was behind the door.
***
Sean had thought long and hard about exactly how to handle the situation before coming up with his plan. He pressed the buzzer and waited. The Glock sat comfortably in his hand as he waited for the door to open. Eventually he heard footsteps, two sets coming towards the door. Thank God for hardwood floors he thought, preparing himself for the door to open.
Chapter 14
Pyotr’s cell barely rang before he answered the call he had been impatiently expecting. “Sir!” he answered mustering as much deference as possible, given his somewhat irritable mood. The motel they had checked into was a dump but was the closest to their target they had found.
“My name is General Borodin…” came the extremely unexpected response. The booming voice forced Pyotr to remove the cell from his ear and negated the need to keep his partner, Alexa, up to date on the changing situation.
“I have taken over control of this matter and your Director has offered your services to me in the interim.”
“Of course, General.” Pyotr knew exactly who General Borodin was; everybody in SVR did. Just as they knew never to trust him and to thank God every day that they did not work for the GRU and General Borodin.
“Your original orders, do you remember them?”
“Of course,” replied Pyotr, trying to sound as controlled as possible. The impact of what he was being asked to do and the potential repercussions for Russia were enormous. It was bad enough doing it for his own Agency but being an Agent of the SVR doing this for the GRU? The implications had his mind racing.
“Good, do it now!” the voice boomed before the call ended.
Pyotr hit the end button three times on the already dead phone.
“Oh my God,” Alexa exhaled. Her breathing had stopped as she too understood the enormity of the situation, despite her tender years.
Pyotr slumped onto the bed. Thirty years he had given to his country. Thirty years of total devotion to the KGB and SVR and ultimately Mother Russia. He was doomed. They were doomed. After they had carried out their orders, there was no way Borodin would let them live. SVR agents killing a w
oman and child for the GRU, or even knowing the GRU had had them killed was a death sentence, let alone being the executioners.
Dismay turned to anger as he caught Alexa’s eye. She knew without having to be told.
“Who the fuck is this Sean Fox anyway?” he shouted, banging his fist against the cheap desk.
“The son of the ex-chief of the US Military,” replied Alexa, without thinking.
“Sorry?” asked Pyotr, surprised at Alexa knowing more than he did.
“I googled his name when we got the orders,” she confessed. “Looked it up on the internet,” she explained more fully, given the look of confusion on Pytor’s face. Pyotr was old enough to be her father, perhaps even grandfather, and obviously had not embraced the computer age.
Pyotr remained silent as he computed the information. His brain cells may not be computer age but they were wired for cold war counterintelligence and this had all the makings of some old cold war plan. He shook his head. Whatever it was, Pyotr couldn’t begin to comprehend. He had an order to follow and, like he had for the last thirty years, he would follow it to the letter, even if it did mean his own death. He loved Russia and whatever Russia wanted, Russia got.
He picked up the car keys and with a heavy heart, beckoned Alexa to follow him. He, of course, would help her disappear after the job but Borodin’s GRU was massive, far larger than SVR, with resources just about anywhere. Well anywhere but Laredo Texas obviously. Otherwise, Pyotr and Alexa would have been on their way back to Washington. Alexa had a chance. Pyotr had family back in Russia, he had no chance. This would be his final mission, his swan song.
Pyotr drove as Alexa prepped the weapons, neither spoke as they covered the short distance back to the estate. As they neared the house, Alexa broke the silence. “How do you want to play it?”
“No point beating about the bush, fast and quick?”
“Fine by me!” replied Alexa, cocking the second of the two Tula Arms AS Val silenced assault rifles.
Fast and quick meant exactly that. Pyotr would drive the car as near to the door of the house as possible. They would then assault the door, breeching with a pump action shotgun if necessary before entering the house and killing all inside. They would then exit as quickly as possible. Time on site would be sub one minute if possible.
“Shit!” exclaimed Alexa from nowhere.
“What? What’s wrong?” Pyotr looked around anxiously, desperate to see what she had spotted.
“The boy! We never told them about the boy being kidnapped!”
Pyotr pulled the car over to the side of the road, just before the entrance to the target street. He drummed his fingers against the dash as he leaned over the steering wheel, deep in thought.
“Fuck 'em” he said eventually. “I’m not overly keen to shoot a four year old. Nothing we can do, we’ll just say he wasn’t there. I’m fairly certain a four year old American boy is no great threat to Mother Russia!”
He put the car back in gear and pulled away without further discussion. Pyotr just wanted the whole thing over with. He entered the street and accelerated towards the house.
As they skidded into the driveway, the first and most worrying thing Pyotr noted was that the front door was wide open.
Chapter 15
Katie’s heart stopped. Sean stood before her on the front step. Miguel must have shot her. She must be dead. Sean was dead. He couldn’t be standing there in front of her. It wasn’t possible. Her mind raced while her body remained rigid. Her mouth froze. She was unable to speak for fear of stopping the vision.
Katie felt a hand push at her as the world exploded in her ears. A flash from Sean. She was seeing the light. She was dead.
***
The wife opened the door and just stood agape looking at him. Sean had the pistol up and ready. His plan was fairly simple, kill anybody that was a threat and get information on the boy from whoever was left. Time was of the essence.
A hand pushed at the woman as one of the Mexicans came from behind the door, obviously keen to find out who was there as the woman had just become comatose. As he spotted Sean, he tried to put the woman between him and Sean but Sean had him and squeezed off a round, catching the Mexican between the eyes. He dropped to the floor already dead.
Sean knew there was at least one more shooter and with no time to sugarcoat his actions, he pushed the wife to the floor and stormed into the house. She screamed almost as soon as she hit the floor. The Mexican’s brain matter did not make the most pleasant of landing spots.
Two rounds thudded into the doorframe next to Sean, indicating that the other shooter was in the room opposite. Sean had to keep moving. He dived across the hallway and positioned himself against the wall. All he needed now were a couple of flash bangs and he’d be good to go. One through the doorway quickly followed by himself. Bang bang bad man down. Easy.
A blast of gunfire had Sean falling to the ground. A white-hot pain seared though his leg. Sean grabbed at his leg and was rewarded with a moistness that screamed blood. Sean looked for another shooter before the realization of the American dream home hit home. The walls were paper-thin. The shooter had hit him through the wall. Another burst of fire tore another line of holes. Fortunately the shooter had gone higher and not lower; he hadn’t realized he had already hit Sean.
“Fuck this,” thought Sean diving for the doorway. The rounds were working away from the door not towards it.
As Sean fell into the room, the young Mexican’s rifle was pointing at the far wall. Sean didn’t hesitate and double tapped him. One in the chest and one in the head; it always paid to make sure.
As Sean struggled to get to his feet, the wife rushed in and threw her arms around him. Her brain coated lips making straight for his.
“Whoa,” Sean grabbed her by the arms and held her back at arms length. “I’m not who you think I am!”
“Sean, it’s me! Katie!” she replied excitedly, ignoring his words.
“I’m not Sean!” replied Sean rather awkwardly. “Well, I am Sean, just, not your one,” he clarified even more awkwardly.
As a look of confusion began to register, a screech of tires from the front drive caught both their attention.
***
Alexa was first out and had her AS Val rifle up and ready to fire, the silenced assault rifle was the favored weapon of the Russian Spetsnaz forces.
As Alexa rushed towards the door, Pyotr covered her expertly. The dead body sprawled across the doorstep gave them all the warning they needed. They entered the house, weapons very hot. As Alexa covered the doorway, Pyotr rushed forward. They would clear the house room by room, systematically, just as the Spetsnaz instructors had trained them.
As Pyotr entered the hallway, Sean, reacting to the screeching tires, rushed from the living room. Sean’s weapon was up and ready but so was Pyotr’s and he was already aiming at Sean’s doorway. Pytor hit the trigger before Sean and three bullets instantly spat out of the silenced barrel.
“NO!” was the only sound that could be heard. The female scream covered even the modest spit of the silenced rifle.
Chapter 16
Luis loved watching the night sky from the ranch’s terrace. Miles from any major conurbation, the darkness was almost complete and allowed an unpolluted view of the universe and the infinite galaxies beyond. The stars lit up the sky and produced the most magical canvas, surpassing any of his uncle’s original oil masterpieces, certainly in Luis’ opinion. Who could compete with God Himself?
“LUIS!!!” screamed El Jefe, for the nth time that day.
“Yes, Uncle?” He jumped up in response. The tone was not good, angrier than normal.
“Have you heard?” he asked, agitated, storming onto the terrace from the living room.
“Heard what, Uncle?” asked Luis calmly, noting his uncle’s lack of even the tiniest of glances towards the wonder above him.
“The Gulf Cartel have a meeting with major buyers from the East coast!”
“Where did
you hear that?” asked Luis, dismissively. He was responsible for Intel and he had heard no such thing.
Even before the back of El Jefe’s hand hit him square across the chin, sending him crashing to the floor, Luis had regretted his tone of voice. The large gold medallion on El Jefe’s index finger tore into Luis’ cheek and ensured he’d never forget his place again.
“I have ten thousand men at my behest! I hear things!” explained El Jefe, leaning in, menacingly close to Luis. “But you’re supposed to hear them first! Stop looking at the pretty lights and do your fucking job. Get me those contacts!”
As El Jefe stormed back into the house, Luis picked himself up and rubbed his chin. Every now and then he was reminded exactly why his uncle was in charge. Behind his ruthlessness, he was a very bright and intelligent man. Luis occasionally forgot that the Neanderthal brute was as much an act to maintain control, by fear and power, as it was the true nature of his uncle. He was a sociopath, not a psychopath.
Luis wiped the blood from his cheek and walked tall into the living room. El Jefe stood in front of a massive drinks bar, pouring himself a Scotch. He nodded towards a beaten man lying on the floor in the corner of the room. Two of El Jefe’s most trusted men hovered over the man.
“He’s Gulf Cartel. We picked him up earlier today drunk in a bar bragging about arranging a massive deal.”
Luis looked at the man and could see the desperation in his eyes. Both knew it was pointless. The man would be dead within the hour, if he were lucky.
Luis turned back to his uncle. “Fat Jake’s contacts?”
“Must be,” concluded El Jefe, the insinuation being that the man had not confirmed or did not know if they were.
Luis walked over to the man and made him a promise he couldn’t nor wouldn’t even try to keep. “ I promise, if you tell us everything you know, you will live!”
The man quickly relayed as much detail as El Jefe had already given Luis. All he knew was that a big meeting was due to take place in the next two days in Nuevo Laredo. The details were a closely guarded secret, only the head of the Gulf Cartel knew all the details but the rumor was the buyers were very rich and desperate Americans from the East.
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