Jameson broke into a toothy grin. “So you see, Robert, everything works out for those who do good. We are in the clear, we have plausible deniability, and the assets we want protected shall be. Sounds like a win-win to me.”
Near Chapala Mexico
Raul led the way through the dank tunnel system with an LED torch in one hand and a crude hand drawn map in the other. “At the next Y, we should go right.”
El jefe bristled as the packed earth left reddish brown streaks across the bottom of his white linen trousers. “I wish I had known they were in such a state of disrepair.”
“Señor, nobody has been down here in years.” Raul swiped at a root hanging at eye level. “Since you bought the federales, we have not had to use these.” He stopped and shone the beam ahead. “Some of them have collapsed.” He pointed the torch to the ceiling of the tunnel. “Without supports, I do not think it is safe to continue.”
El Fantasma sighed animatedly and turned around, pointing his own torch behind them. “What about the other direction? If we had gone left?”
Raul studied the map again and nodded. “Si. It’s a much longer way, but it takes us to the airfield.”
“Then that is the way we should try. If it comes to making an escape, I would much rather it be by air.”
Raul stepped in front of him. “Señor, go back to the hacienda. I will send people down here to clear the paths. You do not need to be here. It isn’t safe.”
He gave Raul a reassuring smile and squeezed his shoulders. “I needed to see the condition of the tunnels, mi hermano. I need to know what to expect if the worst should come to pass.”
Raul nodded as he stepped out of the way. “I shall have them mark the safest way.” He watched el jefe retreat through the tunnels the way they had come. “If it’s possible, I’ll have them shore the walls and clear the debris.”
El Fantasma paused and turned to face him. “Actually, once they have cleared the paths…” he smiled to himself, “have them mark the least safe path.”
“Señor?”
With a chuckle, he explained, “Mark the least safest path. A decoy. In case somebody decides to follow us.” He raised a brow at the smaller man. “Make sure that they are bright and big and too obvious to ignore.”
Raul broke into a toothy grin. “Si, señor. Another wise decision.”
20
MacDill AFB, Florida
“Somebody please explain this to me again. Just, a little slower this time.” Laughlin leaned forward in his seat and tried to pay more attention.
“Christ,” Mauk groaned. “You’d have never made it in the field.”
Laughlin’s voice betrayed the worry he felt. “Just humor me. Explain to me again what we’re stealing and why.”
Bridger sighed heavily then turned to Slippy. “He needs visual aids.”
Gregg held a finger up. “One more moment…”
DJ felt the need to poke the bear. “I thought you were gonna write this program while we went to chow?”
“I think Sir Slippyfist is losing his touch,” Lisa added as she fell into a chair next to him. “Is that PacMan?”
“Knock it off,” Bridger growled. “Slip?”
“Got it.” He punched the enter button one last time and the computer began to restart, initiating his control interface program as it did.
“Just tell me,” Laughlin groaned. “I don’t need pictures.”
“This will help.” Slippy spun his computer around as it began to come back to life. “Note the specs that are displayed here.” He clicked on the box and it enlarged, bringing up the digital images of the mini assassin drones. “This is what we’re stealing.”
Laughlin leaned forward and stared at the images. “Okay. Why?”
Bridger sat next to him and draped a huge arm over his shoulders. “Those are killer bees…more or less. A hornet’s nest.” He pointed to the diagram. “Carries eleven 9MM rounds and has just enough C4 in the underbelly to make a grenade jealous.”
Laughlin swallowed hard. “Okay.” He stared out at the others cautiously. “And why are we stealing these?”
Mauk pushed the latest reconnaissance images across the table. The infrared were the most enlightening. “Murillo has hired an army.”
“Murillo’s dead. I’ve told you this a hundred times,” Laughlin shot back.
“Fine.” Mauk pushed the photos closer. “Then Murillo’s ghost hired a fucking army.”
Laughlin finally picked up the images and studied each with shaky hands. “Oh, no. No…” He dropped the photos. “That’s it then. This is a suicide mission.”
“That’s why we’re stealing these.” Bridger tapped at the screen. “We set Slippy and Mauk as overwatch along the ridges. Slippy uses the drones to remove the threats on the outside and Mauk picks off anybody that dares to show themselves in a window or doorway.”
“And the four of us storm the castle?” Laughlin’s voice was a bit higher than he would have preferred. “That’s insane!”
“We’ve run the gauntlet a dozen times here in the mockup,” Lisa deadpanned.
“But we can’t know where the bad guys actually ARE inside there,” Laughlin continued.
“We improvise.” Bridger stood and stared down at him. “Or you can go home and my team will take care of this without you.”
Laughlin felt his hands shaking again but it wasn’t from fear. The anger built up inside of him until he thought it would cause him to do something stupid. Instead, he stood slowly and set his jaw. “So when do we do this?”
Bridger felt the corner of his mouth start to rise into a smile. “Prep the jet. Tell the pilot we’ll be taking off in an hour.” He turned to Mauk. “You and Lisa get our shit stowed and make sure the IFF equipment is all on the same frequencies.”
“What about me?” Gregg asked.
“Get your ass to the plane.” Bridger broke into a toothy grin. “You’re gonna fly the swarm to the plane and we’ll make sure they have a full
