Gregg did a double take. “How am I gonna steal the swarm if I’m on the plane?”
Bridger turned to DJ. “Once he and I take the door off the secure storage, you’ll activate them and fly them to you.” He turned and looked at the others. “There’s no way we can carry that many drones to and from the plane without getting caught. Our best chance is for Slip to program their flight and have them come to us.”
DJ began to chuckle and slowly came to his feet. “Top, that’s either the craziest or the most brilliant idea I’ve heard in a long damned time.”
“Let’s go with that one.” Laughlin turned for the door. “One hour.”
“One hour,” Bridger reiterated. As Laughlin walked away he turned back to Lisa. “Before you stow our gear, make a call.”
Her eyes narrowed at him. “To?”
“You still friends with Diego?”
Her eyes went wide and she gave him a shocked look. “The last time we dealt with him, he tried to double cross us.”
“And we let him live, so he owes us one.” Bridger’s jaw was set. She knew what that meant.
She shrugged slowly. “I can try.” She pulled her cell from her vest pocket. “What do we want him to do?”
“Make sure we have a ride waiting at the tarmac.”
Langley Virginia
Robert Ingram pushed open the door to Director Jameson’s office. “Did you get the same call?”
Jameson sighed heavily and pressed the button to darken his computer screen. “I did.” He removed his reading glasses and leaned back in his chair. “Don’t you have your own office to be at?”
“They’re about to take off.” Robert pulled the chair out and sat down. “We should prepare, shouldn’t we?”
“For what, exactly?”
Ingram fought the urge to yell, duh. “To observe. Surely part of the deal was to stream us a live feed?”
Jameson felt his chest tighten as the idea that Ingram was one step ahead of him settled into the back of his mind. “No, Robert. I did not make that ‘part of the deal.’ I saw no reason to—”
“How can we be assured of their actions? If one of our assets are killed and it’s because of their actions, then—”
It was Jameson’s turn to interrupt. “Then we’ll still have plausible deniability.” His voice rose in volume as his anger and frustration became evident. “I’ve been in this game a hell of a lot longer than you have, Robert, and I assure you, assets are capable of doing what needs doing without the two of us micromanaging their every fucking move!”
He took a deep breath and slowly sat behind his desk again. “If you want to live-feed this shit storm then I suggest you commandeer a satellite and put your own eyes on the operation.” He reached for his glasses again and lowered his voice, “But do not invite me to your viewing. I have more important things to do at the moment.”
“I thought Bridger was your future hotshot operator?” Ingram came to his feet and raised a brow at the man. “You set all of this up, behind my back, I might add. Then when the ball starts to roll, you want to turn away and trust that a drug cartel is going to do everything in their power to keep your man alive?” He scoffed as he turned for the door. “You aren’t just trusting, you’re a fool.”
“Choose your words wisely, Robert,” Jameson replied through gritted teeth. “I put you where you are at and I can damned sure remove you.”
Ingram paused and turned back to him slowly. “Is that a threat?”
Jameson chuckled under his breath. “It’s a promise.” He removed his glasses again and pointed the earpiece at him. “Remember not just where you came from, Robert. Remember who helped you to get where you are. The asses you burn today may well be the same ones you have to kiss tomorrow.”
“Poetic.” Ingram turned and reached for the door. “If you have a change of heart and decide you want to know that you’re actually getting your money’s worth, I’ll be in the war room.”
Jameson watched him leave and sighed heavily. He tossed his glasses to the desktop and rocked his chair slightly. “I hate it when the little shit is right.”
Near Chapala, Mexico
Raul hung up the phone and turned nervously to the office door. He knocked lightly then pushed the door open. El Fantasma looked up from the papers he held and raised a brow. “Yes, Raul?”
“The federales are in place. They’ve got barricades up on all access roads that lead to the villa.”
“Good.” He gave his assistant a hesitant look. “Yet something tells me that you also have bad news.”
Raul cleared his throat and nodded as he stepped closer to the desk. “The colonel says that he has received word…about the air strike.”
El Fantasma nodded, waving him on. “Please, continue.”
Raul glanced away, not wanting to make direct eye contact. “It is being whispered that El Sinaloa cartel are behind it.”
El Fantasma leaned back in his chair and stared at the small framed man. “Are you certain?”
Raul nodded. “That is what he is saying.” He glanced up and saw the man’s face go slack.
“This is not good.” He stood from his desk slowly and stepped around it. “We have an agreement with them that…” He trailed off, his mind going to places he didn’t want to consider. “What of the Cali?”
“I have not reached out to them.” Raul’s voice sounded soft and quiet. “I did not wish to overstep.”
El jefe placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “If you act on our behalf then you never overstep, hermano.” He gave the man a soft squeeze. “Reach out to them—and to the Blancos. I need to know if they have spoken to anybody with El Sinaloa. Perhaps they let something slip in passing.”
Raul gave him a knowing look. “Nobody lets something like this ‘slip,’ señor. If something was said, then you know they were asking for their
