Raul stepped forward and whispered in his ear, “Perhaps you should come back inside, señor? In case they approach in the darkness?”
El jefe scoffed as he turned and faced the two militia commanders. “Do this, and you will be rewarded.” He met their greedy gaze and smiled. “Do it well and you may find yourself in my inner circle, eh amigos?”
“We will deal with these gringos, Jefe. Let them show their cowardly faces. We will make them wish they were never born.”
17
MacDill AFB Florida
“Major?” A female sergeant entered the room and handed him a manila folder. “Fresh from the printer, sir.”
“Thank you.” Major Blake flipped open the folder and sighed heavily before handing it to Bridger.
“Dammit,” Bobby groaned as he scanned the heat signatures surrounding the villa. “I knew we didn’t have time for this.”
Blake sat down slowly and stared at the map on the wall. “They’re reinforcing.”
“No shit.” Bridger pushed the map across the table and fell into the chair opposite. “There’s no way we can pull this off without heavy duty munitions and air support.”
Blake scoffed and shook his head. “In a foreign country? Mexico, no less? Fat chance.”
“So, we’re screwed.” Bobby sighed and rested his head in his hands. “We always knew this was probably a suicide mission.” He leaned back and squeezed the bridge of his nose. “All we can hope for now is to kill this Ghost before they kill us.”
“No chance of you calling this off?”
Bobby shook his head. “They’ve been trying to pick us off individually.” He looked up and met Blake’s gaze. “Once they realize they aren’t succeeding, they’ll start going after family. Associates. Anybody they can think of to try to hurt us.”
“That’s definitely the cartel’s MO.” Blake rubbed at his chin as he studied the print outs. “As a mission commander, I’d scrap this idea. If this Ghost is an HVT, I’d hide and wait. Eventually he’ll have to come out of his hole.” He glanced at Bobby. “I’d hit him then. Motorcades are a lot more vulnerable than a fortified compound.”
Bobby sighed as he sat back in his chair, considering options. “Task Force Blue didn’t wait to get bin Laden.”
Blake scoffed. “Because intel reported to DEVGRU said that he hadn’t left his compound in over six years.”
Bobby gave him a knowing look. “So one could argue that he was due. One could also argue that this Ghost could do the same thing.” He rubbed at his temples as a headache began to form. “That’s why I never wanted Laughlin’s job. Too damned many variables to consider.”
Blake studied him for a moment. “So, the bearded wonder out there was your handler?”
Bobby nodded. “Back in the day.” He groaned as he stood and reached for the coffee pot in the corner. “This is the kind of shit that I always blew off. We were the tip of the spear. Laughlin pointed us to the targets and it was up to me to keep my team safe until the mission was complete.” He sipped the bitter liquid and tried to push out old memories. “It’s a lot easier to blame someone else when shit goes sideways when you’re not the one in charge.”
“And now that you’re trying to do both jobs, you’ve found a whole new respect for the man.”
Bobby shook his head. “Not exactly.” He turned and smirked. “Some people are better suited to giving the orders. I’m better suited to making sure those orders are carried out.”
Langley Virginia
Robert Ingram knocked quickly then opened the door. “Good news.”
“Why yes, please come in, Robert,” Jameson replied sarcastically. “What could possibly be so pressing?”
Ingram sat across from him and handed him a single page. “Somebody does owe me a favor in Mexico.”
Jameson picked up the profile page and glanced through the information. “And you couldn’t have simply picked up a phone?”
Ingram waved him off. “Too easy. Besides, you owe me lunch after this.”
“And why is that, Robert?” Jameson slid the page back across his desk.
“He’s a Lieutenant Colonel in the Mexican Army. He can get us a drone.”
Jameson crossed his arms and raised a brow at the man. “An armed drone? That he’s willing to use on his own soil? Against a rather wealthy criminal drug czar with his own army and, I’m sure, a cadre of assassins?”
Ingram swallowed hard and slowly shook his head. “No, but…uh, we’d have eyes in the sky.”
“Joy,” Jameson deadpanned. “We can watch my future asset be chopped to bits with machetes by a merciless drug kingpin. Should I bring the popcorn?”
Ingram sighed as he came to his feet. “Fine.” He adjusted his tie and tugged at his lapels. “I’ll make a few more calls. Perhaps we can owe him one.”
“You do that, Robert.” Jameson turned back to his work as Ingram turned for the door. “And feel free to pick up the phone once you have the logistics settled.”
“Of course,” Ingram muttered as he stepped out of the office.
Jameson waited for the door to shut then reached for the phone. “I think that perhaps it would behoove us to fight fire with fire.” He punched in a number and waited for the line to pick up. “This is Jameson. I need to call in that favor you owe me.”
The man on the other line seemed eager to please. “I need special activity in a foreign nation. Mexico, to be exact.” He waited for the man to stutter and stumble through his words. “I need an air asset with plenty of fire power.”
“Wait…what?” The man’s voice rose nearly an octave. “I don’t have those kind of resources.”
Jameson smiled to himself. “No, but you know people who do. The target is a drug lord. Rather, his compound and any assets he may have at that facility.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice into the phone. “Surely you know how to contact others in that
