Insertion, page 16
CHAPTER 32
Making sure he heard the door close and adding a good five minutes in case she forgot something and came rushing back, he neatly folded up his newspaper and stuffed it underneath his arm. Grabbing his Irish coffee and offering up his seat to the couple that just entered the bar, he made his way back to where Alexandria was just sitting.
“Preston Anderson,” Jack said, setting the paper down first and then his drink before grabbing his seat. Jack smiled after seeing Preston’s ‘oh-shit’ look creep across the young hacker’s face. “Oh, this seat is still warm. Why do you think that is, Preston?”
“I don’t know, Jack,” he said, his voice shaking a little.
“Are you in a rush? It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other, hasn’t it?”
“Yep, and I’m meeting some friends here in a little bit, so whatever it is that you want to talk about, can you speed it along please?” he asked.
A feeling of euphoria grew over Jack in knowing he had this man flustered by his presence alone. Toying with people of his nature was one of his favorite pastimes. He and Preston went back a couple of years to when Jack was tasked with following a mole who David believed was somehow taking funds from the agency’s financial stream. The trail led him to Preston. Confronting the hacker, Jack realized that his abilities could be better suited if he needed a favor instead of twiddling his thumbs behind bars. Stipulations were implemented and Jack pulled a lot of strings to keep him out of jail.
“Don’t worry, I won’t keep you long, Preston. I just want to know why the seat is still warm, that would imply that someone was sitting here before me, correct?”
Giving him a straight face and showing no expression, Preston said, “You know exactly who was sitting there, and if you’re over here talking to me, then obviously you found something on her.”
“Not necessarily, but thank you for telling me that it was a woman. I don’t think that you would last two seconds on the stand in court, do you?”
“You’ve made your point.”
“What did she pay you for?”
Chuckling softly and feeling a bit bullied, Preston answered, “Who said I was paid for anything? I just happened to meet a friend. We chatted for a bit, and she left. And now, like I said, I am meeting old friends to discuss some video games.”
“Cut the crap, Preston. Or do I need to contact the Federal Bureau and let them know I found the missing connection to the financial crisis case last year?” He watched Preston squirm, looking over both shoulders to make sure nobody was listening.
Leaning toward Jack, Preston’s facial expressions turned serious. “Look, all she wanted me to do was delete some video surveillance files from your database, that’s it. I swear.”
Raising an eyebrow, he said, “And is that all?”
“Jack, I swear that’s it,” he replied, raising both hands in the air as if to offer a surrender.
“Preston, why don’t you get a real job where they will pay you for your abilities?”
“Damn, that’s the second time I’ve heard that today. I don’t know,” he said, now looking into his empty mug. “I guess I owe some people some money and I’m almost done paying them back.”
Giving him a disappointing sigh—because Jack knew the agency would prosper greatly from his technology abilities—he said, “Hurry up and pay them back, because I would prefer you work with us, not against us.”
“Really?” he asked, as Jack stood up and grabbed his newspaper. “What about my background?”
“What background? Maybe if you come on over to the good side we can make certain things disappear that happened in your past. Have a good evening, Preston. And next time you erase video footage from the agency, I’ll put the cuffs on you myself.” Jack made his way out of the bar and off to give Janet the information he just acquired.
CHAPTER 33
Max was fast asleep when he felt a tap on his shoulder. As his eyes struggled to adjust to the black figure in tactical gear and baklava staring back at him, he looked at his watch. “What is it? It’s three in the morning, Antonio.”
“Amigo, I need your help,” he responded, not bothering to whisper and waking up the rest of the team. “We have a situation. Some of my men are down with food poisoning, so I need to borrow you guys to take their spot.”
“What kind of situation?” Max asked, sitting up. Moving his neck in small circles, he tried to loosen up the stiff muscles all over his body.
“One of our informants on the street said that Alejandro is sending one of his subs into the river today from the middle of the rainforest. If he makes it into the river, the chances of us finding it shrink drastically. If it makes it to the ocean, then we’ll never see it again.”
Narco-trafficking around the world was a gigantic issue. It brought billions of dollars to cartels especially since there was no area where they were not willing to extend their reach. For decades South American countries, who didn’t have corrupt political parties, worked with the United States trying to stop speed boats, fishing boats, airplanes, cars and any other conveyance. The hardest to stop, or find for that matter, was a fully submersible submarine floating around in the middle of the ocean. It was a needle in a haystack.
“How many openings are there into the ocean from the river they’re using?” Alex asked, sitting up in his cot and joining Max in the conversation.
“There’s only one, amigo,” replied Antonio, looking at his watch.
“When do we need to launch?” Alex asked.
“Fifteen minutes.”
“Perfect,” Max responded.
“I take it we don’t have an option of sleep, do we?” Kyle asked. Even though he couldn’t see her because the lights were still off, he felt Courtney’s beady eyes piercing his soul.
“Stop being a lazy ass,” she said. “It’s too early for your comments.”
“Jeez, rough crowd,” he said, throwing off his blanket and standing up to stretch.
“Well,” Antonio said again. “I only need two to three of your guys.”
“You already know I’m in,” Max said, standing up and yawning as he followed Kyle in stretching to help increase the blood flow.
“I’m in, too,” Alex said.
“Since Kyle needs his beauty sleep,” Courtney said, “I’ll go, I want to see this for myself. I’ve never seen one of the drug subs. I’ve only heard about them.”
“Perfect,” Antonio said. “Three’s company, as you Americans say,” he said, patting his friend on the shoulder and walking out of the room. Antonio turned around one last time and said, “Fifteen minutes, then meet by the elevator.”
The team didn’t have time to do anything but use the bathroom, throw their carriers on, and top off their weapons. Night raids was the realm in which Max lived. Seeing the element of surprise in the enemy’s face was the best part, right before they caught his bullet between their eyes or a knife to the throat. Some might say he was kind of weird for thinking that way, but he didn’t care, he was good at what he did and he knew it.
Walking to the elevator, Max noticed Antonio talking to one of his operators as he turned around to pat him on the shoulder again.
“Awake yet?” he asked.
“I know its dark outside, so just focus on not shooting me in the back please.”
“Aha! Very funny my friend, just remember you need our helicopter to take you back here pendejo. It would be a shame to leave you behind, accidentally.” Finishing his sentence in air quotations, Max was silent. Typical banter between operators, he loved it.
Antonio led the first group—which consisted of Max, Courtney, Alex and a few more of his men—to the roof. Exiting the elevator, Max winced at the noise emulating from the engines of the two Blackhawk helicopters as their blades picked up speed. Taking off his ballcap, Max stuffed it into his cargo pants pocket and followed Antonio and the rest of the team jogging over to the first Blackhawk.
Piling into the bird, Max was the last man to pick up the headset and plug in the cord connected to the communication system. He pulled the door shut, but Antonio signaled for him to open it back up, as one of his men shifted the mounted M240 machine gun from inside the cabin to being exposed outside.
There were only two cords, not including the gunner’s, allowing the passengers in the cabin to talk to each other and communicate to the pilots. Max and Antonio were using them both. Everyone else would just have to make facial gestures, hand signals, or borrow the cord from whomever was using it if they wanted to say something.
Max took a gander at the M240 machine gun and its operator sitting to his right. Typically, Antonio had the guns and running on both sides, but one of the guns went down in each helicopter so making do with the cards dealt was a regular occurrence. Max realized he had never been in a situation where he had to engage threats from the sky but was overwhelmed with a sense of security. “I take it you’ve had to use those big boys on more than one occasion?” he asked Antonio.
“Yes,” responded Antonio.
“Damn,” Max said. The level of confidence he picked up from his response secured his faith in the operation. He was so used to being in control of where his weapon was pointed, when he would pull the trigger, and who was watching his back. In the sky, flying around at a couple thousand feet, he was at the mercy of literally everything else. It had been a while since he had flown in a helicopter. Most of his missions involved him jumping out of planes at an extreme altitude or taking some form of undercover vehicle to the destination.
Seven people occupied the cabins per helicopter not including the gunners. Two benches occupied the cabin on both sides, as Courtney and Alex sat to his left, while Antonio and his men were directly across from them. Exposed wires dangled all around them in unison with the oil dripping sporadically above. Max was all too familiar with the classic saying, “if the oil stops dripping, then there’s something wrong.”
The gunner checked his loadout one last time before giving the all-clear to the pilots. Adjusting his eyes to the darkness beyond the rooftop, Max felt a feeling of nervousness mixed with euphoria creeping across his body as the helicopter gently rose into the early morning sky. As they hovered while the pilots checked the parameters of their craft, Max gripped the handlebar attached to the door frame above him. Even though all the passengers wore a five-point harness, the shock of falling out always overcame whatever emotions were swimming around in Max’s brain.
The warm air breeze flowing through both open doors of the cabin comforted Max, but only a little. The ride to the location would take approximately thirty minutes, and the hike to the location was another thirty or so, which wasn’t terrible. Not a bad way at all to start the morning Max thought, even though the raid to save Ben would happen that night.
The helicopters gained altitude in unison, cutting their way through the sky. The higher they climbed, the colder it got. Goosebumps engulfed Max’s exposed arms, causing him to shiver the second they reached their cruising altitude. He wished he had thrown on the long-sleeved shirt he packed.
The next half hour, he hugged himself, trying to keep warm, and thought of sitting back on the beach in Miami, drinking a cocktail and hitting on women. But even he knew that life would only keep him happy for so long.
Approaching the landing zone at five minutes out, Antonio spoke. “Okay, so me and my men will go down the rope first, secure the area. You guys follow. The second bird will give us cover and when we hit the deck, this one will break off and repeat the process.”
“Roger that,” Max responded, lowering his BNVD PVS-15 night-vision goggles and clicking the side button, illuminating the dark sky into white phosphor. Adding to the easiness of night shooting, their rifles were equipped with Infrared strobes, making the laser visible to the goggles when the IR button was engaged. It was typically described as playing a first-person shooter.
Lowering its altitude, the Blackhawk reached a steady one hundred feet as the second helicopter went into a holding pattern. Max watched Antonio attach the rope to the arm that extended out of the helicopter, ensure his gloves were on tight, grip the rope, and slide out of view.
One by one Antonio’s men disappeared and before he knew it, Alex and Courtney had slid out of view also. Max unplugged from the helicopter and slid over to the rope. Gripping it and wrapping his legs so the rope sat on top of the bottom boot and underneath the top, he flew down the rope.
His training instantly kicked into gear and all he could remember was the general misconception that everything came from upper arm strength. It was in fact the legs that controlled the descent, the arms just keeping you attached. Before he knew it, his feet tapped on solid ground. Quickly jumping out of the way, he took up a defensive posture next to Antonio, kneeling approximately five yards in front of him. Max heard the rope detach and hit the ground behind him as the second helicopter flew in to deliver its payload.
Max’s legs and arms screamed in agony, and he could sense a massive headache growing as well. The sleep helped a little, but he would have to ask Antonio for some painkillers after another hot shower if they were going to hit Alejandro’s mansion later. Pushing future mission planning thoughts from his head, he focused back to the current task at hand.
“Last man,”
“Roger that,” Antonio said. “Let’s keep comms quiet, we don’t need to let mother nature know we’re here. There’s scarier things in the Amazon than people carrying rifles.”
Lowering his rifle, reaching into his pocket, and putting on his hat, Max responded. “We just flew two Blackhawks over her canopy, I’m sure she knows we’re here already.”
“Smart-ass,” Antonio responded, “you know what I mean.”
“Okay then, after you,” Max said.
CHAPTER 34
Max was happy to be following the lead of Antonio, he needed a break from being the point man. He loved being in charge and calling the shots, but this mission was starting to take a toll on him and if he had to hear one more comment out of Kyle’s mouth, he was sure he would kill him on the spot. And he knew Jack would help him cover it up.
Trekking at a slow yet consistent pace, they hadn’t made it ten minutes before Antonio paused, raising up his arm.
“Tango,” he whispered, “one o’clock, fifteen yards.” Instantly the entire group lowered to their knee as two of Antonio’s men took aim on the target. It took a second for Max to spot the target, but once he did, he trained his rifle on him as well.
All fourteen operators had spread out behind Antonio creating a small half-circle extending fifteen yards. The target appeared to be squatting in front of a bush with his back to the group.
“Standby,” Antonio said again. “I want this one.” Both of his men lowered their silenced rifles as Antonio crept to the target, watching his step over loose branches and crisp leaves with the possibility of giving away their position.
Max watched his beloved friend move his rifle behind him, reach for his blade, and pull it from the sheath strapped across his chest. Antonio, now less than ten yards away, adjusted the grip so the blade was facing upwards toward the sky. Thirty seconds seemed like an eternity from Max’s viewpoint. Pausing right behind the bush, Antonio sprung like a king cobra raising its upper body and lashing downward to immobilize its prey. Antonio’s left hand grabbed the man’s mouth as his right simultaneously thrust the knife into the man’s throat. He was dead in an instant.
Noise ceased to exist as one of Antonio’s men quickly pushed forward, stepped around the bush, and grabbed the lifeless body, placing it on the dirt.
Walking up to him, Max smelled it before he even said anything. “Damn, bro, you killed him when he was taking a shit? At least let the poor man finish first.”
Smiling, he replied, “Bro, he was in the middle of pushing one out, too.”
“You’re something else, man. A normal person doesn’t get off on that kind of crap,” Max said, watching Antonio wink and blow him a kiss, then signal for them to engage their walk again.
“If he walked this far out here to take a dump that means we’re getting pretty close,” Antonio mentioned to the rest of the group. “Keep a sharp eye out for any stragglers.”
For the next twenty minutes the operators moved forward at a snail’s pace to cover the remaining ground. Luckily, moving upwards in elevation with their target at the bottom of the ridge meant they could see the entire campsite and figure out the best plan of attack. Max’s nerves were on high alert, his senses moving at full throttle. Not seeing any more random tangos in the area sent a wave of chills through his body, prepping himself mentally for what was waiting for them on the bottom of the ridge.
As the tree line subsided and nothing more was in front of them anymore except the edge of the ridge, Antonio knelt and whispered for everyone to do the same. “Okay, Courtney you’re up,” he said.
Without hesitation she grabbed the drone out of her backpack and set it up once more to do a fly by. The entirety of the group stayed in the tree line except for Max, Antonio, and Jose, the sniper. They all lay sprawled out on their stomachs at the edge of the ridge.
“You see anything good?” Max asked, who held out his hand taking the binoculars away from Antonio.
“There’s that fence that wraps around the entire property, although it doesn’t look like any barbed wire is on top of it so that’s good. Worse comes to worst, we can scale it, although that’s last resort. You see how they don’t have any watchtowers, only four big tents?”
“Yeah, it’s amazing how they assemble all this stuff in the middle of the rainforest,” Max commented.
“Shoot, they could probably run their own car facility out here if they really wanted to,” replied his friend.
“You’re not wrong. I see the four tents and a hangar over the water, which is where I imagine the submarine is.”
“Yeah, we hope it’s in there,” Antonio said, now sounding a little worried at that they couldn’t physically see what was inside the hangar.
