by Brent Towns
“Loving every minute of it, Reaper Four.”
“Liar.”
Kane glanced at Thurston who stood beside him, headphones on. She could hear everything they said but remained quiet. It was Kane’s job to communicate with the team. Her intervention would come only if it were important, or she had appropriate intel to add.
The comms crackled to life. “DEA in position and holding.”
“Copy.”
The agent in charge was a man named Potts. He seemed OK, and Traynor knew him from another life. The agents he had with him seemed quite capable too. As an afterthought, Kane said, “Any sign of that SUV?”
“Negative.”
“We’ve got movement on the approaches,” Axe said from his position. “Looks like an eighteen-wheeler.”
“Copy,” Kane acknowledged. “Is there any word from your guys at the port, Potts?”
“Negative. Their comms are down. I suspect they’re in a blackspot. Around here is a bitch for them.”
“See if you can raise them by cell.”
“Will do.”
Thurston asked in a low voice, “What are you thinking?”
Kane answered without taking his eyes from the screen. “I’m not sure. I don’t like it. The fact that we couldn’t find the SUV, the DEA team haven’t reported the shipment, and now they can’t be raised.”
“Reaper from Potts. Over.”
“Copy.”
“I couldn’t raise them.”
“Send a man over to check them out, Potts. Something isn’t right.”
“That’s what I was thinking. Out.”
“Reaper Two, copy?”
“Copy.”
“Something isn’t right, Cara. Keep your team on their toes.”
“Roger.”
Kane watched the large screen as the truck approached. In the background, he could hear Cara coordinating her team. Her team. It felt strange thinking that way. The eighteen-wheeler swung through the gates in the high, chain-link fence and was met by three guards when it came to a stop. One of the guards walked across to the driver’s door while the other two walked to the back of the rig. They halted there, and one of them opened the rear doors.
Muzzle flashes lit up the dark as all hell broke loose when gunfire from inside the container ripped both guards apart.
“Shit!” Kane exclaimed. “They’re going to rip off the drugs. Cara! It’s a hit.”
Wilmington
The Warehouse
When Kane’s call came over the comms, Cara’s brain kicked into overdrive. She’d already been on edge, but the warning seemed to take every trace of nervousness away, and she was now cool and calm.
“Axe, sitrep?”
“Looks like someone is trying to rip off whatever they have in the warehouse, as well as the truckload of drugs.”
“Roger. Brick? Talk to me.”
“We’re all clear around the back, Reaper Two. The guards have been drawn away by the shooting.”
“Reaper Two, we have more incoming,” Axe said, breaking in on the transmission. “Looks like three SUVs.”
“Damn it.”
“There’s more getting out of the back of the truck.”
“Damn it,” Cara cursed. “Reaper One, are you getting this?”
“Roger, Reaper Two. We’re looking at ten tangos who’ve just arrived. I think they might be with those who just climbed from the truck. They appear to be taking out whatever guards were there. You need to stand down and wait.”
“What about our HVT? If we miss him, then we don’t have anything on the operation. We need to get in there and roll him up.”
“It’s too dangerous, Cara.”
“This is my call, Reaper!”
He paused. “OK. Execute.”
Cara’s expression turned grim as she started barking orders into her comms. “Slick, kill the power. Axe, clear us a path in there, and Brick, move in. Reaper Team moving.”
The lights went out with the power, but the shooting didn’t let up. Cara dropped her NVGs over her eyes, and the scene before her turned green. In her ear, she heard Axe say, “Front gate is clear. Shifting target.”
“Copy. Moving to front gate.”
Behind Cara, Arenas said, “Nothing like a midnight party.”
“Are you trying to be funny?”
“Did it work?”
“No.”
“I must try harder then.”
Brick’s voice came over the comms. “Back gate secure. Moving to rear door.”
“Copy, Reaper Five.”
Cara and Arenas reached the front gate; her suppressed 416 at her shoulder as she swept for targets as its laser sight reaching out like a thin needle through the green haze of the NVGs. She stepped over the first body just inside the entrance and kept moving. Ahead of her, there were more on the ground. Whether they’d been killed by Axe or another source, she couldn’t tell, but at least they were no longer a threat.
An armed man stepped around the back of the truck. He was shooting at someone out of sight, the AK in his hands rattling of a hailstorm of lead.
Cara fired two shots, and the man jerked and fell to the pavement. Behind her, she heard Arenas’ weapon cough three times as he put another shooter down.
They reached the truck and paused. The gunfire could still be heard, but it was louder, echoing.
“Reaper Four, sitrep?”
“They’ve moved inside. All of the threats outside have been neutralized.”
Cara frowned. Why would they go inside the warehouse? It was darker in there than outside.
Kane came over the comms. “Cara, don’t breach. They’ll be spraying lead in there for effect. They can’t see shit.”
Cara said into her mic, “Reaper Five, where are you?”
“In the warehouse. Reaper is right. We’ll extract before we pick up a stray bullet.”
“No,” Cara snapped. “Stay put. Look for the HVT.”
“Copy. Continuing mission.”
Suddenly, Thurston’s voice came over the comms. “Cara, what are you doing?”
“My job, Ma’am. Out.”
Cara stepped around the rear of the trailer and moved quickly towards the door of the warehouse. She swung it open and stepped into hell.
Chapter 4
Wilmington
The Warehouse
A round screeched past Cara’s ear as it ricocheted off the doorjamb, causing her to duck reflexively. “Fuck!” she hissed and stepped forward. She swept the 416 around and fired at the shooter who was spraying bullets wildly, as though they would act like a forcefield from a science fiction movie.
The man’s head snapped back, and he dropped into an untidy heap, the AK in his hands clattering to the concrete. She asked into her mic, “Bravo Four, where’s the office in this place?”
A pause then Swift said, “Back left corner.”
“Copy,” Cara acknowledged. “Brick, clear the building. We’re going after the HVT.”
“Copy that.”
“Carlos, are you OK?”
“Ready to move.”
“Let’s go. We’ll clear the building.”
They crossed the open space before them on the diagonal towards the back of the building where the office was meant to be. Off to their right, the gunfire seemed to have diminished somewhat, and Cara figured that Brick was almost done clearing the rest of the warehouse.
Before her in the green haze, steel stairs lifted from the warehouse floor and up to the office which was on a mezzanine level with another room below it. On the stairs was a guard wearing … “Shit, look out!” Cara shouted.
The man on the stairs was sweeping his weapon around in their direction with his NVGs illuminating them just fine. Cara and Arenas hastily dived to the floor, while above them 7.62 rounds sliced through the air that they had just occupied.
Cara rolled to the left and came up on her knees. The 416 fired three times, and the shooter toppled forward, crashing down the steps toward the co
ncrete floor. “The bastards have NVGs,” she hissed. “Tell Brick.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” said Arenas. He pressed the talk button on his mic. “Reaper Five, be aware that some of them have night vision, over.”
“Copy.”
Stepping over the body, Cara started up the steps. Arenas fell in behind her, watching her six, and when she’d made it halfway, she realized that the shooting had stopped. An eerie silence fell over the interior of the warehouse.
Cara took another step forward up the stairs and paused. She studied the doorway ahead and said into her mic, “Reaper Five, copy?”
“Roger. All clear here, Ma’am.” His voice sounded almost deafening now that the noise had died away.
“Copy. Regroup on me.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
Cara started forward again; her boots silent on the steel treads. On reaching the doorway, she peered around the opening. The office appeared to be clear. She took one pace inside, and gunfire erupted as a man stepped from behind a wall partition. Bullets hammered around the doorway, chewing out splinters of wood. Cara fired, and the man jerked his weapon upward. His finger was still depressing the trigger, and the gun stitched a line of bullet holes along the ceiling as he fell backward.
By the time he hit the floor, the shooting had stopped, along with his heart. Cara surged forward; Arenas close behind her. The dead shooter was the only one inside, which didn’t bode well. She said, “Bravo Four? Reaper Two, copy?”
“Copy, Reaper Two.”
“Turn the power back on.”
Cara lifted her NVGs, and after a few heartbeats, the lights flickered, illuminating the room. She looked down at the man at her feet and cursed, “Damn it.”
Kane’s voice came over the comms. “Sitrep, Reaper Two?”
Rolling her eyes in frustration, she said, “We found the HVT, Reaper. Unfortunately, he won’t be able to tell us anything.”
“Repeat, Reaper Two.”
“Dries Janssen is dead. I shot him.”
Potts looked down at the dead man and shook his head. “Shame you had to kill him. He could have told us a lot of things about the business he and his brother are running.”
“Wasn’t much I could do at the time,” Cara said abruptly, immediately defending her actions.
“I’m not judging. I probably would have killed him myself. I’m just saying it’s a shame.”
She studied the middle-aged agent-in-charge and said, “You should be able to gather intel and other stuff from the office.”
He nodded. “Should be.”
An agent approached them from the doorway. “Sir, we found some things you might want to see. You too, Ma’am.”
They followed the agent down the stairs and across the floor, past several empty racks until they reached a stack of forty-four-gallon drums. Three were missing their lids. The agent said, “The drums are filled with pills. We only opened three, but we have to assume the rest are the same.”
Cara looked at the stacked drums and did a quick mental calculation. “Christ.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” the agent agreed. “Also, we think we’ve identified the guys who tried to steal the drugs.”
Potts stared at his man. “Who?”
“I’ll show you.”
They walked across to one of the dead shooters, and the agent pointed at a small tattoo on the side of his neck. “See there?”
“Albanian?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Damn it. I wondered how long before they would take to branch out. I guess now we know.”
“I thought these guys had been in the States for a while?” Cara asked.
“They have. Just not down this way. Crazy sons of bitches.”
“At least we got something,” Cara said. “Is there much other intel?”
“What is relevant we’ll pass on to Interpol. Maybe they can sweep up his brother. One thing is for sure, he’s going to be pissed about the loss of this merchandise on top of the death of his brother.”
Antwerp, Belgium
Three Days Later
“Where is his body now?” Dorian Janssen asked Sander.
“The Americans have it.”
The hot rage of finding out about his brother’s death was gone, replaced by the calculated scheming for which the older Janssen was known.
“I want you to get it back.”
Sander studied his boss before nodding. “It can be done.”
“There is more.”
“I thought there might be.”
When Janssen was finished giving Sander his instructions, the enforcer knew that he would be lucky to ever see Belgium again. Or those going with him for that matter. But when Janssen asked him whether he could do the job, he nodded dutifully and said once again, “Yes, sir.”
New York City
One Week Later
Pavli Cano stepped out onto the sidewalk in front of the building where his lavish Lower Manhattan apartment was situated and waited for his driver to show. Beside the Albanian was his lieutenant, Halil Lazani. Both were well-known in the Albanian organized crime world. Probably because Cano was head of it all.
The most-feared criminal in all of New York, Cano and his Albanians outstripped even the most violent street gangs. The few who had stood up to them, when they’d moved in, found out the hard way, and none had done so again. Eventually, they learned that the best thing to do was coexist.
However, of late, that wasn’t sufficient for Cano, and they were branching out into other regions, including the Wilmington area. It was just a shame that his team had been killed by the damned people of the Worldwide Drug Initiative. But, so had Dries Janssen, which gave even the darkest cloud a little silver lining.
Cano felt pressure on his back, and a voice said, “Just stand still and climb into the van when it stops.”
The Albanian glanced sideways at his lieutenant and noticed him standing stiffly, unmoving. Then he saw the man standing behind him and knew there were two of them. He hissed through clenched teeth, “You will not get away with this, whoever you are. You will be found and killed, so too your family.”
“I have no family,” the man said.
Cano licked his lips. Something about the situation made him nervous. “Who are you?”
No answer.
Suddenly a dark blue van roared out of the morning traffic, and the rear-sliding door opened. The Albanian was shoved roughly towards the opening. Beside him, he heard a suppressed handgun fire, and Lazani dropped to the sidewalk.
Cano whirled, his eyes blazing, “You fucking –”
His words were cut short when the butt of a suppressed FN-Five Seven hit him between the eyes. Stunned, he staggered groggily, and the men bundled him into the van. The door slammed shut, and the vehicle roared away from the curb, leaving the body of Cano’s dead lieutenant in a pool of blood on the sidewalk.
El Paso, Texas
Two Days Later
Cara’s running route always took her close to the border. She didn’t know why, but it was just the way she chose to run. She would leave her place of residence just after daylight and then run for an hour to an hour and a half, depending on how she felt.
This morning, however, her run was interrupted by the ring-tone of her cell. She reached into her fanny pack and took it out. Cara hit answer and held it up to her ear. “Billings.”
“Cara, it’s Reaper. You have to get back here. There’s shit going down over the border, and we’ve had a call to help out.”
“What kind of shit?” she asked. As if on cue, the wind changed, bringing with it the cacophony of gunfire from across the border. “Don’t worry, I can hear it. I’m on my way.”
Cara hung up and turned to retrace her steps. Coming along the street towards her was a dark van. She glanced at it and then started to run back to HQ.
Team Reaper HQ
El Paso, Texas
Kane shoved the last of the freshly-loaded magazines into his webbing and double-checked that he ha
d all he would require for the cross-border op. The call had come in thirty minutes ago. An almost overwhelming force of Juárez Cartel soldiers had a group of Federales pinned down in a local no-go zone, and it looked like they were about to be wiped out to a man. When the Mexicans tried to send more of their men in, they’d refused to go. That was when Team Reaper was asked to assist.
Kane, dressed in full combat gear, picked up his 416 and left the lockup. He hurried towards the operations room where he found the team waiting, watching events unfold on the big screen. “How’s it looking?”
Thurston walked over to him and said, “From what we can see, most of them are dead. There are maybe four still alive and fighting. They’re totally surrounded.”
“Why the hell did they go in there?”
“They were after an HVT responsible for killing one of their officers. I guess it was a pride thing.”
“Have you seen Cara yet?”
“She’s not back?”
“No.”
Thurston tried to mask her concern before Kane saw it but failed. “I don’t like it either. She should be back by now. She was only ten minutes out. Ping her cell.”
“Slick,” Thurston called across to her computer tech, “ping Cara’s cell.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
After a few moments, he turned and said, “I found her.”
“Bring it up.”
A small square appeared within the big screen. It was a map, and the little red dot, which indicated Cara’s cell, flashed brightly.
“It’s not moving,” Kane said.
“No.”
Kane turned to Thurston. “Ma’am …”
“I’ll get Pete to take a look. You get your team moving.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
Ciudad Juárez
Mexico
Since there were only four of them, Team Reaper only took one armored, black SUV across the border. They’d just hit Mexican soil when they received the call from Thurston saying that the last three Federales had capitulated and surrendered to the cartel soldiers.
