Insertion, page 10
“Ben,” Alejandro said. “This man was caught stealing some of the cocoa beans from the field to sell in the market to help feed his family. What do you think I should do?”
Silence now fell over the veranda as all eyes were on him. The old man couldn’t speak English, but he knew Alejandro had asked a very important question. He had no other choice but to look Ben’s way. He said, “I don’t know, man. He looks old so let him go and forgive him and hopefully he learns his lesson.” The guards laughed at Ben’s answer. Smiling, Alejandro walked behind the old man and stretched. Turning back around to face everyone and leaning on the balcony, he took a deep breath.
He put his arms on the side of the old man’s head, showing grace and compassion by kissing his forehead. Walking back to his chair to face the man, he reached to his right and grabbed the pistol sitting in the pants of one of the guards, pointed it at the man, and pulled the trigger. The body slumped to the tile as blood and cranium matter sprayed all over the balcony. Ben noticed the children and the women at the pool paused to look up after hearing the gunshot, but then continued as if nothing had happened.
Alejandro shoved the pistol back into the pants of the guard, who jerked backward as the hot barrel of the .45 caliber pistol scorched his thigh. Alejandro waved his hand, and his guards grabbed the body and headed off down the steps out of sight. As if on cue, the French doors opened for a second time and two maids came out and began cleaning. Grabbing his chair, Alejandro took a seat and sipped his water as if nothing happened.
The emotions coursing through Ben’s body and mind were on overdrive. Witnessing a murder like that up close and with what seemed like no remorse is what he thought he would never have to see in his lifetime. The image would be embedded vividly inside of his mind forever.
Turning to Ben, Alejandro said, “Saint Bertrand forgives, but I don’t.”
CHAPTER 19
Jack was sitting in the study of the office on the computer when his cell phone rang. “This had better be good,” he mumbled. It was right around lunch time, and he missed his breakfast due to a meeting earlier. Reaching for his encrypted phone, he looked at the number and knew exactly who it was. “What’s up, Max?”
“Just trying to figure out where the next move is,” he said. Jack could clearly tell he was frustrated from the failed mission the night before.
“I have good news and bad news for you.” There was a slight pause on the other line before Max told him to continue. “I just had the morning brief with Janet and gave her the rundown of what happened last night. After you gave me the GPS coordinates, the techies used some advanced math and tracked the only possible areas to land based off gas, plane size, and airports in the vicinity, and we located the plane. The flight plan wasn’t anywhere in the global flight system, which was a slight snag, but we worked past it.”
“What’s the bad news?” Max asked, slight hesitation in his voice.
“You’re not going to like this, but do you remember that mission we did chasing that idiot through Alaska?”
“How could I forget?” Max laughed. “That’s the first time in my life where I thought we would have to snuggle for warmth.”
“We all know you would have been the little spoon.” Jack laughed.
“Don’t tell me they’re in Alaska because I don’t feel like dealing with timberwolves again.”
“No, you’re not going to Alaska, you’re going to Colombia. Cartagena to be exact. Although, we can’t get you too close to his mansion without drawing attention.”
“I figured that much.”
“We tracked the plane to just a couple of miles outside his main mansion, which is probably where he is. He feels most safe there and has most of his men and resources in the country. To be honest, that’s probably where I would be,” Jack said.
“I would probably be on my yacht in Aruba with the ability to sail anywhere I wanted and get away.”
“That’s too easy. He’s very sophisticated and loyal to his country. He has half an army at his disposal on standby near his mansion, not to mention all of the personal body guards and he knows we’re coming for him.” Jack stood up and walked into the kitchen to get himself a beer.
“Perfect,” Max said, “we’re walking into a shit storm whenever we manage to get to the mansion. Let me guess, HALO jump again?”
“We can’t risk it. If anything goes wrong, you’ll be fucked.”
“Well then lets make sure nothing goes wrong,” Max said, clearing his throat.
“No, Max, if we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it quietly. You remember that safe house down there?”
“Yeah, of course. It’s a hike, though.”
“Catch a cab,” Jack said in between gulps of his beer.
“I hate you, you know that,” Max responded, chuckling. “And by the way, that safe house is at least two hours away.”
“Then use your hot-wiring skills and snag a fresh ride. Most of them are shitty anyway so you shouldn’t have an issue.”
Max frowned to himself as Jack continued his speech of how this part of the mission was going to work. “When you get to the safe house, shoot me a text, load up, and await further instructions. I think I have a couple of boys deployed in the area who may be able to give you a lift to Panama City. I should have more details by then,” finished Jack.
“Once we get Ben, can’t you have someone meet us on the coast for a water evac?”
“Negative, Alejandro has people patrolling the coast day in and day out. I would rather get you guys a for-sure exit than have to deal with that cluster fuck. There’s no telling what condition our boy is going to be in when you get him, if you—”
“It’ll be a ‘when,’ Jack, I have a feeling that’s where he is,” Max said. There was so much confidence in his voice that Jack wanted to believe beyond a shadow of a doubt that that’s where Ben was, but he knew better. Failed rescue missions in the past haunted his thoughts when he was a part of operations of this magnitude.
“I suggest you get to it before Janet decides to pull the plug on this before you even get boots on the ground,” Jack said. “And Max?”
“Yeah?”
“Bring our boy home.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way, brother. I’ll text you when we arrive at the safe house.”
CHAPTER 20
In the early 2000’s, a man by the name of Jason Reed created a private contracting security firm out of Miami, Florida. Through his years of making connections through the military and networking when he retired, Jason’s business spread to new heights, quickly becoming established in other areas around the country where most of the wealthiest of clients lived. Top of the line security is what he advertised, and that’s exactly why he was rated as one of the top five private companies in the United States. Jason was constantly thinking about new ways to bring in money and after the Maersk, Alabama incident. All of his prayers were answered when cargo container companies started requesting extra security.
Jason was sitting in afternoon traffic trying to navigate his way north on the 95 freeway when his touchscreen display indicated an incoming call. The caller ID said “Jack Knowles.” He instantly became excited; he hadn’t heard from his dear friend in a while. Pressing the green telephone button on the touchscreen and narrowly missing a purple Lamborghini who cut him off, he heard a familiar voice come to life on the other end.
“Jack! What can I do you for?” Jason asked.
Laughing, Jack responded, “Hey, man! How are you? Long time, huh?”
“I don’t know what kind of special ops missions they got you running up there, but apparently it’s enough to keep you busy and away from visiting old friends,” said Jason.
“Oh, fuck off,” Jack responded. “Don’t act like you’re all high and mighty yourself, Mr. CEO,” Jack responded.
“You got me on that one. What’s up, man?” Jason knew Jack was an extremely busy man and yet he was always willing to help him out and had done so on more than one occasion.
“Do you have any people traveling in and around the Pacific right now?”
Trying to change lanes and cursing at the new vehicle, a minivan, who just cut him off, Jason replied, “I have a team out there now actually. They’re on a deployment to Ecuador and left out of Long Beach a couple of days ago.”
“Perfect, how far do you think they are now from Cabo San Lucas?”
“Not too far at all. They actually had to make an emergency stop in Mexico City because one of the crew members was showing signs of an appendicitis.”
Jack winced before he continued. “That sucks, I feel sorry for that guy.”
“Yeah, tell me about it, but from what my guys were telling me before I left the office, they should be back underway in an hour or so. What is it you need?”
“Is the ship pulling into Panama City by chance?”
“I don’t know off the top of my head, man, I have two other teams deployed to various cargo ships in the area.”
“I have a team that needs assistance getting from Cabo to Panama.”
“That’s a big ask.”
“I know, man, but you were the first person who popped into my head and if there’s anyone who could make sure it happens, it’s you.”
Smiling and patting himself on the back imaginatively, Jason said, “Since you put it that way, I’ll see what I can do.”
“Perfect, thanks man.”
“Don’t thank me yet. When do you need this done by?”
“Tonight.”
There was a long pause on the other end.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Noted, I’ll be standing by. Thanks again, man.”
“No problem. Oh—and Jack?”
“Yeah, brother?”
“Don’t be a stranger. Come on down and enjoy some of the finer things in life. I know your old ass still likes to throw down a beer or two,” said Jason enthusiastically.
Laughing, Jack replied, “Oh, believe me, when this mission is all over, I’ll be begging you to let me come down.”
“Deal, buddy. We’ll be in touch.” And with that, Jason ended the call just as the traffic cleared passed the wreckage in the right lane. Accelerating up the 95 to his house, his agenda for the evening just changed.
The sun gently fell over the horizon as Max and the rest of the team were sitting in the safe house an hour north of Enrique’s house. The safe house was more of an underground bunker underneath one of the bars in the city of La Paz. The “bartenders” were newly appointed field agents who got stuck doing the dirty work before moving up to the “cool guy” stuff.
After verification codes were exchanged, the bartender Adam led them to the employee bathroom where a couple of the floorboards were loose in the “broken stall.” Adam handed Max an updated note from Jack of where and how the extraction was going to occur. Covering his nose at the foul stench, Kwame helped Adam move the fake toilet, exposing a hatch and set of stairs.
Max and the team thanked Adam, who held the hatch open while the team descended the stairs into the underground bunker. Although most safe houses were set up for extended stays, this one was designed for short durations. Once the team was inside and the loud clank of the hatch was heard above, they tried their best to get used to their new accommodations. It was outfitted like a small hotel room with a kitchen, bed, and bathroom. Luckily the odor stayed above ground as the team took different corners of the room to relax the best they could before moving again.
Hours past and when the time came, they exited the bunker through the front hatch. The foul odor smacked them in the face once more. The tunnel stretched about a mile long as Max wrapped his shemagh he always carried in his backpack, around his face. The rest of the team did the same, trying to mask the smell. Quickly making their way down the path, avoiding stepping in fecal matter and dead rodents, they arrived at the ladder, which led to an opening through a pothole in an alleyway a couple of blocks from the beach.
Reaching the top, Max pushed the ten-pound manhole cover up and to the left, quickly surveying the area. Once he saw it was all clear, the team emptied into the alleyway, closed the cover, and made their way in the dead of night to the beach. Each member took the biggest gulp of air, grateful to be out of the disgusting tunnel below.
The coordinates selected allowed for them to wait in a staggered formation behind one of the many bars closed for the night on the boardwalk looking out into the ocean. Putting on his NVG’s and switching them to IR mode, Max scanned where the water connected with the sand, the team following suit. All they could do was wait and listen to the ocean gently wash up along the sandy shore as the quarter moon shined whatever light it could through the clouds.
“I think I see something,” Nate whispered, tapping Max and turning his head in the direction of the rock formation to the south. Pressing the IR strobe twice on his NVG’s, Max pointed in the general vicinity of where Nate saw movement. At first Max didn’t see anything, but after a few seconds he thought he saw something.
The large rock formation sat about forty yards away which is where Max saw three strobe signals flashing. Once Max received the signal, the team one by one made their way over to the formation, Max being the last one. By the time Max had joined them, one boat was already breaking the surf and headed back to the cargo ship. Crouching up to the remaining boat, a burly man in a black neoprene suit extended his hand. Max took it.
“Max Fontaine?” the man asked.
“The one and only,” Max replied.
“Derrick,” he said shaking his hand, “we heard you needed a lift.”
Chuckling, Max responded, “A rescue is more like it.”
Nodding, Max dropped his backpack and rifle in the boat and helped the rest of the team shove the craft back into the surf. Once the small boat was far enough into the ocean, Derrick informed them it was going to be at least an hour before they reached their destination.
CHAPTER 21
Alexandria checked her watch entering the front gate of the agency. She only had twenty hours left before she had to give Alejandro a call back with the results of her find. Was there a rat within the cartel? Of course. That was no different than saying the sky was blue or the grass was green. The agency had spies in all corners of the globe; it’s what they did. Rolling her window down and removing the identification badge dangling from around her neck, one of the security guards asked, “Miss Alexandria, it’s early for you, isn’t it?”
“I suppose so, Jeff, but the early bird gets the worm, am I right?” she responded.
“Whatever floats your boat Ms. Alexandria,” said Jeff, turning to his right and pressing the red button to raise the gate. She rolled her window up and continued to the parking garage located directly below her building.
After pulling her grey Audi A7 into her designated parking spot as section chief supervisor, she grabbed her Starbucks latte and headed for the elevator. Not seeing any other cars in the parking lot except for hers and one other was all she could wish for with what she was about to do. She had spent the entire day before planning and trying to figure out how she was going to get the name of the informant sneaking information while working undercover for the Saint Bertrand Cartel. Whoever it was was likely undercover for a very long time and gathered great and credible intel for the agency. She pushed those thoughts out of her mind.
After hearing the elevator’s brakes come to a slow halt and the doors slide open, she stepped inside, pressed the number five and waited for the doors to close.
It was just past six o’clock in the morning. She usually didn’t step foot into the building until eight. Alexandria figured if she could get the information before everyone showed up to work, that would be one less thing to worry about later. When the elevator reached her floor, she quickly made her way past the cubicle farm and over to her corner office overlooking the main road into the massive compound. Where she needed to go was on the other side, and she had to do it fast and quietly before people trickled in.
All the chief supervisors were in their own corner offices in their respective portions of the building. The main six floors were reserved for everyone except the Director and whoever worked directly with him. Wanted to speak to him? Head up to the top. Want to have a meeting? Head up to the top. She was tired of it and hoped that one day she would be able to be the one telling her subordinates to meet her at the top, but for now she had to deal with the cards she was dealt. Dropping her bag and items at her desk and guzzling down the last remnants of her latte, she tossed her coffee in the trash and hesitated before walking out the door.
CHAPTER 22
Max and the rest of his crew were out cold the second their heads touched the pillows. A nice hot shower, even if it was on a cargo ship, was a lot better than sitting in the disgusting filth the agency called a safe house back in Mexico. The seven of them were split up into four different rooms, with Courtney bunking with one of the women working for the security team. Sleeping past breakfast and realizing he was the last one to wake up in his room, Max turned the lights on and got dressed. Walking into the cafeteria and grabbing an apple to go, he left his team smoking and joking at one of the tables as he went to go look for Derrick.
Max found Derrick back in his berthing area with two other guys dressed out in gym clothes. Everyone stopped talking when he walked through the threshold.
“Max!” Derrick exclaimed with an outstretched hand and a slap on the back, “How did you sleep?”
“Pretty good actually. I didn’t know you guys slept like kings on these damn ships,” he said.
“Brother, these ships are over eight hundred feet long. The crew gets four-man berthing areas but since they left part of their crew at home, they gave us the two-man berthing’s.”
