Blake shook his hand. “And you for yours.”
Langley Virginia
Robert Ingram paced in the war room. Satellite images were like a slideshow on the large overheard screen. “Can we get infrared? I want to see where the players are located.”
A technician working at one of the computer stations held a pencil up. “This bird isn’t capable, sir, but we can—”
“Then find me one that is,” Ingram interrupted.
The tech sighed and turned to face him. “That’s what I was about to suggest, sir. However, the nearest satellite with that capability and the kind of resolution you want won’t be available for over an hour.”
Ingram groaned and fought the urge to hit something. “Is there nothing else available? Maybe somebody else with Homeland has a bird that can—”
“Robert,” Jameson’s calm voice snapped him from his tirade. “You’re jumping the gun.”
Ingram gave him a confused look. “What do you mean?”
“They haven’t even left MacDill yet.” Jameson hung his coat on a hook and sat in one of the rear observation chairs. “Their clearance has them leaving in about…” He glanced at his watch. “Forty-five minutes.”
Ingram blinked at him, his mind not connecting the dots. “I don’t…”
“Robert, they still have flight time. Then they have to establish where the opposition is, develop an entry plan…” He sighed as he crossed his legs. “My best guess is that we probably won’t see any action until sundown at the earliest.”
“Sundown?” Ingram glanced at the wall clock. “But…it’s not even noon.”
“You’re so very observant,” Jameson deadpanned. “Come here. Have a seat.”
Ingram stumbled past the work stations and approached. He carefully took the seat to his right. “Sundown?”
Jameson nodded. “At the earliest.” He stared at the satellite images flashing across the screen. “And if I know Mr. Bridger in the slightest, I would bet money that he will wait until closer to sunrise.”
Ingram gave him a confused look. “Why?”
“Consider this drug lord he’s dealing with. If the man is as scared as he should be, he’ll have all of his resources on high alert.”
“He’d be foolish not to.”
“Exactly. Which means that these men will have been up all night anticipating an attack at any moment. Nerves will be frazzled, minds weak from lack of rest. Even if he dopes them up with his illicit product, they won’t be at their best.”
Ingram nodded as he spoke. “So he’s going to wear them down?”
“In a manner of speaking.” Jameson leaned closer and lowered his voice, “I’ve studied Bobby Bridger for years. I like to think that I can anticipate his every move.” He chuckled to himself. “And it still amazes me how he wins with whatever hand he’s dealt. I think that’s why I admire the man so much.”
“Because…you can’t anticipate his every move?” Ingram asked, confused again.
“Because regardless of which direction he chooses to go, he finds a way to complete his mission.” He raised a brow at his young protégé. “I’d bet money that Bridger will strike, and soon. But not so soon that this drug baron’s troops will be at their best.”
Ingram sighed. “When are your people supposed to go through with this drone strike?”
Jameson shrugged. “They’ll wait.” He rubbed at his jaw as he spoke. “They’ll want as many of Murillo’s people inside the blast zone before they do their thing.” He sighed and stared off. “A very large part of me is considering call off the other cartel.”
Ingram did a double take. “Why?”
James pursed his lips as he considered his words. “As I said, I’ve studied Bobby Bridger for a long time. I have no doubt that he knows exactly what he’s walking into.” He sucked at his teeth as the endless possibilities ran through his mind. “And I have no doubt that he has an exit strategy in place. One that our cartel war might well jeopardize.”
“Then why did you…” Ingram turned slowly and stared at him. “You thought that this was a one way ticket for him, didn’t you?”
Jameson sighed inwardly. “The thought crossed my mind. But then I considered that he has his old team with him. I cannot bring myself to believe that he’d be willing to risk all of their lives on some…suicide mission.” He shook his head. “No, if it were just him, he wouldn’t care. But his team?” He shook his head.
“Then call off the drone attack.” Ingram’s voice couldn’t hide his worry.
“I tried.” Jameson stared at the screen at the front of the room. “They can’t be reached.” He turned slowly and met Ingram’s gaze. “The wheels have been put into motion. I’m afraid that whatever happens, happens.”
Near Chapala, Mexico
“Señor.” Raul entered the office covered in dirt but a broad smile painted across his face. “We have cleared the tunnels leading to the air field. The walls have been shored and the ceilings braced.” Just noticing the dirt on his sleeves, he paused. “Forgive me, señor. I didn’t think that—”
“Think nothing of it, mi hermano. I am thrilled that you are happy.” He stood from behind his desk and patted the man’s shoulder. “Perhaps now you can rest easier, eh?”
Raul nodded enthusiastically. “Si, but I still worry.”
“Why? You have seen to every contingency.”
Raul looked away then seemed to square his shoulders. “One of Miguel’s men, Ricardo…. He has connections with the American government.”
El jefe’s eyes widened. “What are you saying, Raul?” He stepped closer and glared at the man. “Is he a mole?”
“No, señor! But he…made some inquiries,” Raul stammered slightly. “He had been sleeping with this woman and she—”
“Get to the point, Raul!”
The smaller man quivered slightly then squared his shoulders. “Ricardo made some calls. While they were in the states searching for your Bravo team.”
“To what end?”
“They wanted to know more about these people.” He sighed then met the other man’s gaze. “These are dangerous people, Jefe. This woman found out things about them that—”
“I know who they are,”
