“But if I get in the middle of World War Three, we can kiss off the element of surprise.”
“And we will have company from the local constabulary,” Julio added.
“Can you get me some scuba gear I can sink before I come ashore?”
“Tank, weight belt, mask, fins, counsel with pressure gauge, and compass?” Julio asked.
“Yes, and a waterproof pack to put the necessities in. It would be nice to have a light top, or I will be one cold hombre when I finally get on land,” Peace replied.
“Our water is very warm.”
“Not after an hour in it with the sun down.”
“Good point,” Julio laughed. “What about a buoyancy compensator?”
Peace shook his head negatively. “No, I’ll control buoyancy with the weight belt. I’ll have enough bubbles around me without having a compensator adding a disturbance to the water.”
“What if you cramp up. It does happen you know, or are you Seals immune to cramps?”
Peace laughed appreciatively. “No, we get them. If it happens out there, I’ll dump the weight belt, and the tank if need be.”
“It’s your call,” Julio shrugged. “I think a silenced MAC 10 will do you for firepower.”
“Lets keep it simple, just a silenced 9mm will do nicely. Do you have any place safe I could fire off a couple of rounds?”
“We are on our way there now.”
“I figured you were headed out of the city for a reason,” Peace replied, looking out of his window.
“I wished to make sure we did not attract unwanted attention on our way too.”
“You are stationed down here now?” Peace asked. “We were a long way from here the last time you helped me.”
“They moved me into the area when Batiste added terrorist contacts to his usual customer list of drug and gun runners. He has markedly increased his danger quotient.”
“I have to find out who his new suppliers are,” Peace said. “What I find will determine the next step, so it would not be good to just kill him. We need information.”
“If you can take care of the four inside, we will position ourselves to meet Batiste and his other guards when they get back,” Julio replied. “A, how do you say, walk in the park.”
Peace laughed. “If we were not a little crazy, we would not be in this line of work to begin with, right compadre?”
“There are, however, levels of insanity we sometimes find ourselves trapped in needlessly,” Julio sighed, as he turned right onto a long dirt road, with a single level house with peeling white paint in the distance. “It is too bad your leaders do not act more courageously down here. They should have hit Batiste with a full scale invasion, and worried about the consequences later.”
“We don’t want to antagonize our South of the Border friends, amigo,” Peace replied, grinning. “Your country is our partner in the war on terrorism, right?”
“If we were truly your partner, we would have launched a full scale invasion ourselves. At least our bosses know better than to approach the corrupt puppets we have in charge down here. You would truly be walking into a trap then. They would probably allow Batiste to purchase a few dozen federal troops to help close the trap.”
“I haven’t walked in yet.”
“What do you mean by that?” Julio asked as he pulled the car up around the back of the house.
“I mean I never like to get too complacent about my country’s intelligence leaks. One day at a time, and one mission at a time,” Peace answered, as he exited the car.
“You do not sound like the old Peace I knew a while back,” Julio said, gesturing for Peace to follow him inside.
“Ah, my friend, I have found love,” Peace replied with an overacted sigh, which sent Julio into a fit of laughter.
Julio unlocked the door, and checked his small indicators along the frame to see if they had been disturbed. When he was sure no one else had entered the house since he had been there, Julio led Peace inside, turning on a dimmed light with a switch by the door. Peace followed Julio through a padlocked door, which led down into a subbasement. Inside the front part of the room were storage lockers, and a workbench, neatly cleaned off. Across the back part of the room, Peace saw a small firing range set up.
“Very nice, Julio,” Peace said, walking over to the back of the range, while Julio retrieved a silenced 9mm Ruger automatic, and six clips. “You’ve been here before?”
“A few times in the past,” Julio admitted, handing Peace the Ruger and a clip, after checking the chamber. “I’m surprised they have not compromised it by now.”
“Ever worry about being compromised yourself?” Peace asked. “This is a bad country to get taken in for questioning.”
Julio shrugged. “If I get taken, I will hold out for a little while, and then give this place up to my captors. Maybe they will just put a bullet in my head once they find out I have not lied to them.”
“That’s a pretty gritty outlook,” Peace smiled.
“You have a better suggestion, my friend?”
“Nope,” Peace replied. “I wish I would have had something to give them in Iraq. I tried giving them my life story, but that just pissed them off more. You are right. After the first few sessions, a bullet in the head would have been like cold water in the desert.”
Peace loaded the clip into the weapon, and felt the heft of it, before turning it down range. He fired all fourteen shots into the lighted receiver area, built up with sand bags, fifty feet away. Julio nodded as the shots struck one after another into a very small area of the center most sandbag.
“This feels very nice,” Peace told Julio. “You’ll need a silenced favorite for yourself if you want to give me a hand when Batiste arrives.”
“I have already decided on a MAC 10.”
“Good stopping power,” Peace agreed. “I noticed this is a custom job on the silencer. Nice work.”
“I will give you a backup, in case you have to do more shooting than we anticipate,” Julio said.
“If I do, I doubt I’ll be worrying about noise.”
“Very true, but better safe than sorry, and it won’t lend too much added weight to your bag. If you will make yourself comfortable, I will go and get the other items you requested. There are cleaning kits in the cabinets over the workbench.”
“Thanks, I’ll be here,” Peace agreed, walking over to the bench.
__
“You were right,” Peace said, looking out the passenger side window of Julio’s Mercedes, “this stretch of beach is pitch black. I’m glad you had a night-scope at the house. I’m not familiar with the brand. Are you sure it’s waterproof?”
“Down to fifty feet, but you’ll only be using it on the surface anyway.”
“I don’t plan to go any deeper than twenty feet. The point you’ve picked out will take me about thirty minutes to reach, and it won’t be necessary for me to go underwater until I am about two hundred yards from Batiste’s port facility.”
“Remember,” Julio pointed out, “they have the alarms on all night. The guard who watches the area, exposed by the port, will not be looking for much other than a boat approaching. At least they’re too complacent to install motion detectors. My friend, who installed the system, tried to sell them on motion detectors and cameras, but they laughed at him. They know how scared the locals are about messing with their business.”
“I have to be on the roof before first light. If I can get up there undetected, we’ll be in business. I’ll go down through from the roof as soon as I hear your little distraction. Maybe after they get through checking out our deception, I can separate one from the pack.”
“Your journey to the roof worries me,” Julio replied. “Four of the guards are on call in the building all night. I have no idea how they patrol, or even if they do, at night when they are inside. They may be asleep when you’re climbing, or they may be waiting for you on the roof. Although
Batiste has a lavish apartment within, it is ri
ght under the roof.” “I guess I will have to be quiet,” Peace grinned.
“It all looks the same from out there,” Julio said, shaking his head as he looked out over the water. “I am afraid you will be off course on your way to find the right landing point.”
“Those satellite photos you showed me of his place were pretty good. I will be able to make out his place once I get close.”
“I don’t think it would be a good idea to go ashore and start searching. The less movement outside, the better I like it,” Julio replied, retrieving Peace’s weighted, waterproof bag from his trunk.
Peace checked the knife at his waist, and the pouch he carried the night-scope in, before putting on his weight belt. Julio watched him as Peace fastened his dive fins to a loop on his belt, and shrugged the small aluminum tank into place on his back. He tested the regulator, taking a couple of pulls on the mouthpiece. After checking the pressure gauge and compass for luminosity, and putting his mask and snorkel around his neck, he turned to Julio once more before starting his trek to the beach. Julio handed him the bag, which Peace shrugged on over his shoulder.
“I’ll put my com gear on as soon as I reach the roof,” Peace said. “If anything really weird happens before that, just warn me with a flashing light. I know the general area you’ll be in.”
“This is not as tidy as our last adventure.”
“I am getting negative karma here, my friend,” Peace replied, stepping off in his neoprene dive booties in the direction of the entry point he had picked out.
“Vaya Con Dios.”
“Let’s not bring God in on this, buddy,” Peace called back softly over his shoulder. “He may not see this ‘ways justify the means’ stuff like you and me do.”
“Good point,” Julio laughed, as he turned back to the Mercedes.
Peace trekked the two hundred yards to the entry point he had picked out, making his way as quickly and quietly as the nearly seventy-five pounds of gear allowed him. Smiling to himself, Peace remembered the double piggyback ride Bull had enforced with the enthusiastic support of his teammates, Dan included. Compared to the torturous journey up their training hill and back down twice, with Bull on his back, Peace barely felt the load he carried now. Thinking of the happiness on Dan’s face as Peace went by him on his way up with Bull, Peace made a mental note to refrain from smart-ass remarks while on the base.
Barely a ripple in the water of Ensenada’s natural cove, around the port facility, made water entry a breeze compared to the base at Coronado’s entry points. Peace waded out into the light surf, and donned his mask with snorkel. Testing his equipment bag buoyancy, Peace adjusted the weights clipped to it until the bag floated slightly below surface of the water. When he reached a point of buoyancy in the surf, Peace carefully slipped his dive fins onto his booted feet. He discarded one of his clip-on weights when he felt he had too much negative buoyancy, and then kicked out softly towards the point on the compass he had picked to begin his approach towards Batiste’s pier. With very little moonlight, Peace relied heavily on his florescent compass.
He glanced down at his dive watch constantly, as he snorkeled, timing his swim out carefully. When he reached the point he felt lay almost directly in front of Batiste’s pier, Peace shifted his cumbersome bag out on its strap. It floated behind him, just out of sight, and Peace snapped the strap onto his belt. Taking his night-scope out, Peace pulled his mask down below his chin, and scanned the coastline over two hundred yards away. He angled in toward the coastline, adjusting his bearing as he kicked slowly in the direction of the shore.
Peace reached the desired approach angle, and put away his night-scope. He checked his compass readings by taking readings in four directions, front, back, and to both sides. After refitting his mask, Peace inserted his regulator and quickly dived down to about fifteen feet below the surface. With his equipment bag trailing him, Peace kicked towards shore, taking constant readings on his compass and watch. He took his regulator out twice, and surfaced carefully to recheck his bearing, letting only the top of his head down to his mask come out of the water. Descending the second time, Peace continued to shore until he felt the light pull of the surf.
Peace quickly discarded his tank harness, regulator, and dive console, letting the tank’s weight take them to the ocean floor. When he surfaced this time, Peace treaded water only ten yards from Batiste’s pier, and only a few yards from his optimal approach. He let his weight belt slip away after releasing his equipment bag. With only the webbed belt, holding his night-scope and knife, Peace drifted in under the pier hauling the bag under his arm. When his feet were in the sand, Peace put the bags straps over his shoulders, and began to drift slowly in.
Completely out of sight from Batiste’s building, Peace discarded his mask, snorkel and wetsuit, laying them aside until he could slip into the clothes he planned to finish the mission with: black chinos, black tee-shirt, black socks and tennis shoes. He next shrugged into his shoulder holster, checking his Ruger 9mm, and extra clips attached to the harness. Stuffing the other gear in the bag, Peace extracted a small set of bolt cutters, and attached them to his belt. Reaching into one of the inner pockets, he next took out his com unit, and slipped it into place behind his right ear. He adjusted the headband and mic quickly.
“Surf’s up,” Peace whispered into the mic.
“I didn’t see a ripple,” Julio’s voice replied. “I had no clue where you were, even with my night vision goggles.”
“Let me know if you see anything stir, I’m on my way,” Peace replied, slipping on thin latex gloves.
“Bueno.”
Over the next half an hour, after burying his bag under the pier, Peace inched towards the right side of the building, where the structure would allow some traction for a climb upwards. The drainage pipes were old solid castings, rather than the lighter drainage systems popular now. Pausing every handhold, Peace worked slowly up the building corner, certain the noise from his assent could not be heard inside. Fifteen minutes later, Peace was crouched on the roof, near the padlocked hatch.
“In position,” Peace relayed to Julio.
“No movement, and no lights. I’ll let you know when to proceed. Relax, and enjoy our beautiful sunrise.”
“Will do.”
Peace took a specially laminated flask from one of the pouches on the belt he wore. Smoke wisped out from the top when Peace opened it, accompanied by an acrid odor. He poured the solution, inside the flask, over the thinner loop the padlock went through. It immediately began bubbling, and Peace poured a little more on the loop every few minutes until there was very little left of it.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Successful Assault
As daybreak began casting a grayish light, illuminating the roof around him gradually, Peace rested comfortably near the trapdoor. He had went over each item of equipment he would be taking down into the building with him, going over in his mind the floor plans he remembered of the building. The trapdoor opened into a storage area next to Batiste’s apartments, with a dropdown ladder to reach the floor of the room. To the right of the storage area was a service elevator and stairwell down to the lower levels. Peace, not for the first time, considered taking Batiste now before the funeral; but he knew too many people would come looking for him, and Batiste most likely was not alone.
“The lights are coming on,” Julio’s voice said in his ear. “They’re slow getting started. Batiste is supposed to be leaving in another hour.”
“You’re sure the hatch up here on the roof won’t set off the alarm?” Peace whispered.
“Yes, my friend told me it was the one weak spot in the system. They have the fire escape at the side of the building tied into the alarm. It opens into each level, and every level doorway is protected. The doorway exit from the storage room, the trapdoor allows entrance to, is locked from the outside. They believe they are safe against the peons around here.”
“I was thinking about going down through the hatch, and tak
ing a look at the door I have to go through.”
“If you want to live dangerously, I will let you know if they become aware of your foolhardy change in plans.”
Peace choked back a laugh at Julio’s open disapproval. “You don’t like a little initiative?”
“I do not like last second improvisation,” Julio sighed. “You are the boss, my friend; but if you make noise, you will be right next to Batiste’s apartments.”
“I’ll be careful.”
“Ah amigo, that is what my little sister said before the date which made me an uncle.”
This time, Peace clapped both hands over his mouth, and many seconds passed while he controlled his laughter. “Acknowledged.”
Peace quietly snipped what little was left of the loop keeping the trapdoor locked in place. He removed the remaining pieces with the bolt cutters he had cut the weakened loop with, laying the still coated pieces off to the side. Removing a small spray bottle from his belt, Piece sprayed the entire border of the trapdoor with lubricant. When he had let the lubricating oil soak in for a few moments, Peace gripped the handle on the door, and inched it open, moving it up and down, letting the lubricant work in. After spraying the lubricant again, Peace opened the trapdoor noiselessly. A narrow metal ladder extended from the trapdoor, down to the floor below.
“I have the door open,” Peace whispered.
“My sister is just a little pregnant.”
Peace shook his head, smiling in spite of the dangerous situation. Supporting his weight carefully on the sides of the trapdoor, Peace eased his foot down onto the first rung of the ladder until it supported his full weight. He repeated each step downwards in the same manner. Before stepping down to the wood floor, Peace touched the flooring with the toe of his shoe, testing for noises caused by the material of the floor. After quietly allowing the floor to bear all of his weight, Peace used the increasing light of sunrise to guide his way to the door, which opened into the rest of the complex from the storage room. He froze when he heard muffled voices, through the shelving and boxes, lining the wall separating the storage room from Batiste’s apartment.
Peace - A Navy SEALS Novel (DeLeo's Action Thriller Singles Book 3) Page 26
