Blake stepped between him and door of the trainer. “You should really step back and look at this from a different point of view.”
Bridger paused and clenched his jaw. He silently counted to five then turned and faced the officer. “These assholes have taken out two of my crew already. They’ve attempted on the rest of us.” He raised a brow at the man. “What would you do?”
“Not this.” The major crossed his arms and glanced at his clipboard. “Do you have any air support?”
“None.”
“Operators?”
“You’re looking at them.”
Blake slowly nodded and peered out across the trainer. “You need overwatch. Somebody with a head for long range shooting.”
“We have that. We can’t know that the terrain is available to set up an overwatch, though.”
Blake motioned him aside. “Stand your crew down. Let ‘em grab some grub, take a rest and recharge their batteries.”
“I don’t have time. The longer we waste here, the more time this ‘Murillo Ghost’ has to recruit shooters.”
“I understand.” He pushed open a door and motioned Bobby inside. “Let’s look at this from a different angle.” He glanced over Bridger’s shoulder to Laughlin. “Stand your people down. Grab a bite, get some rest. I need to talk to your boss a moment.”
Laughlin bristled. “Technically, I’m the handler.” Bridger and Blake both shot him a dirty look and Matt took a half step back. “Well, I…uh, used to be.” He hooked his thumb over his shoulder. “I’ll just…go and have them…uh…yeah.”
He pulled two sets of maps and laid them out over the light table. “I took the liberty of having these printed up for you. This is a topo map and this is a satellite aerial view.” He overlaid the two and flipped on the light box. “You have three positions that would be prime real estate for an overwatch. Personally, if it were me, I’d station a man here,” he tapped a spot across from the main entrance of the villa, “and here. But you don’t have the manpower to support two snipers.”
“Unless you wanted to loan me a few.”
The major scoffed and shook his head. “I’d be hesitant to send anybody into this situation, but without authority from a higher power…?”
“Right,” Bridger sighed. “It was worth a shot.”
“You’re barely a six man team. That’s already one less than the minimum I’d send into a breaching situation. To sacrifice one of those six for overwatch is risky, but considering the situation you’re looking at, I feel it’s necessary.”
“Agreed.” Bobby craned his head to stare at the maps. “I think I’d rather station here.”
“There’s higher ground behind your shooter.” Blake shook his head. “That’s a bad move.”
“True, but if we take a half moment and wire the upside of the hill, the shooter’s back is covered and they won’t expect a sniper from this location.” He met the major’s gaze and raised a brow. “All it takes is for one of Murillo’s men to have military training and the prime real estate for overwatch is compromised.”
He sighed as he nodded in agreement. “Too many unknowns in this scenario.”
“Any trick we can pull out of our asses is worth trying.”
The major stared at the map and shook his head slowly. “You realize that they won’t be wearing uniforms. Are you equipped with IFF?”
Bobby shook his head. “Nope.”
He crossed his arms and continued to stare at the map. “That’s something I can probably arrange for you.” He sucked at his teeth as the layout formed a 3D image in his mind. “You’re going to need a distraction.” He pointed to the far side of the compound. “If you take your time and recon the area, remove any spotters as you find them. Set off charges on the far side as a diversion and have a half decent shooter at overwatch…”
“You think it’s doable?”
Blake shook his head. “Oh, hell no. You’re all going to die anyway, but odds are you’ll be able to take more of them with you.” He grinned at the man.
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“Let me see what I can do about IFF. I’d hate to hear that your sniper shot one of his own.”
Near Chapala Mexico
Raul stiffened as the two militia leaders returned. One held a burlap sack in his hands and the bottom of the sack was dripping blood as he climbed the stairs to the villa. “Is that what I think it is?”
The militia leader dropped the sack on the porch and it rolled slightly before listing to the side. “We asked him nicely. Once.”
“Just like you said,” the other man added.
Raul cleared his throat and nodded nervously. “I take it that…” he pointed to the sack, “is his head?”
“What a shame.” All three men turned to see el jefe step out of the house, a cigar rolling between his fingertips as he lit it. He spat a loose bit of tobacco from his lips and stared at the sack oozing blood on his porch. “I had really hoped that he would come to his senses.”
“You offered a LOT of money, señor. I cannot believe that he was so stubborn not to take it.” The militia leader smiled broadly before kicking at the sack. “We brought his head in case you wished to make an example of him.”
“Or use it as a piñata,” the other man added, chuckling at his own joke.
“No, gentlemen,” el jefe responded as he blew a gray blue plume into the evening sky. “My days of sending messages to our own people are over.” He turned and stared out into the darkening jungle. “The message I need to send is for this Bravo team that dares to…” He paused and took a deep breath, stopping himself from being worked into a rage. He slowly shook his head and slipped the cigar into the corner of his mouth. “Have your people stay on alert.”
“They are, Fantasma.
