“You’d have to ask him yourself, Robert,” Jameson interrupted. “I have better things to do than sit around and second guess why Mr. Bridger does anything that he does. He zigs when he should zag. He makes a stand when he should run. He runs when he should hold and make a stand. Somehow, he always does what they don’t expect and he makes it work to his own advantage.” He leaned forward and gave the man a look he couldn’t read. “Which is precisely why I need him.”
Ingram broke his gaze and stared back at the screen. “Do you think he’s going after Murillo?”
“Murillo is dead.”
“You know what I’m asking. Is he going after the head of the Murillo cartel?”
Jameson shook his head. “I have no idea what he has planned, but rest assured, if Bobby Bridger thinks it’s a good idea, the bad guys won’t have a clue what coming for them.”
Houston, TX
“Jefe?” Fernando stuck his head in cautiously. “Señor?”
Mario stepped out from the small kitchen with a drink in his hand. “Come in, Fernando. What brings you back so soon?”
Fernando broke eye contact and stared at the ground. “I bring bad news, señor.”
Mario held his breath for a moment. “Tell me.”
Fernando looked up and his jaw tensed as he prepared to speak. “I just got word from one of our distributors.” He swallowed hard. “It would seem that one faction of the MS13 decided to go after Bravo team by themselves. They took a couple dozen men and…”
“And?” Mario’s brow rose and his voice held just a fraction of the anger he felt.
“And they failed, señor.”
Mario set down the glass and gripped the edge of the bar. “They failed.”
“Si, señor. We…assume.” Fernando stepped further into the penthouse. “They were supposed to check in with their compatriots at a certain time.” He slowly shook his head. “They are hours overdue.”
Mario felt his teeth grinding and had to force himself to calm down. “So…it seems that Bravo knows we are coming for them. And that we know where to go.” He closed his eyes and tilted his head towards the ceiling. “Prepare the men.”
“Señor?”
He turned and gave him a stoic look. “We cannot allow Bravo team to dig in. We must strike while the iron is hot.”
Fernando nervously nodded. “We will be undermanned…the distributors haven’t had time—”
“I know what it means, Fernando. But it seems that our associates with MS13 have forced our hand. We must act and we must act now.”
37
South of Dallas, TX
“He don’t know nothing.” Gregg tossed the bloody gloves onto the table and pulled the rubber apron from his chest.
“There is a trash can, ya know,” Mauk grumbled.
Bridger ignored him as he leaned back in the chair. “You’re certain?”
Gregg raised a brow at him. “I pulled dirty tricks from the book of El Mukhabarat. If Egyptian counter intelligence techniques don’t work, nothing will.”
“So I take it he’s finished,” Lisa stated.
Gregg popped a beer and took a long pull. “I hope there’s a spare body bag handy.”
Bridger gave DJ a knowing look. “Take David.”
“Gee, thanks Top,” DJ groaned as he patted the big man’s shoulder. “I get the feet.”
“They’re in the corner,” Gregg added with a belch.
“Looks like we stick with plan A,” Bridger stated flatly. With a shrug he added, “It was a better plan than taking the fight to them, anyway.”
Lisa sighed as she picked up the ammunition. “You don’t think Mario is sending more people here, do you?”
Bridger raised a brow. “You finally admit that it’s him?”
She stiffened and refused to face him. “I’m not ready to commit to it, but everybody else seems convinced. It’s just easier to play along.”
Laughlin finally stood. “They had to get here somehow. I say we ditch their cars someplace that nobody would look. It might buy us more time to make a clean get away.”
Bridger slowly came to his feet. “No.” He glanced at the others. “We take their cars. We set up and prep the battlefield. If they have the vehicles Lojacked, they’ll know exactly where to go.”
“And if they aren’t?” Laughlin asked.
Bridger scoffed. “That hasn’t stopped them from tracking us so far.” He looked at the others. “Objections?”
The others all shrugged. “I hope the heater works in it, whatever it is,” DJ muttered as he unfolded the body bag.
Mauk and DJ escorted Jaime’s remains outside and added him to the stack of bodies in the woods. When asked if they should bury them, Bridger grumbled something along the lines of, “Let the buzzards have them.”
Laughlin and Lisa drove the gang members’ vehicles to the main building and the weapons and munitions were transferred to the “shitmobiles.”
“It will be dawn soon,” Lisa said, staring at her watch. “We should make tracks.”
Bridger tossed the lowrider keys to Laughlin. “You drive. Lisa, you’re riding shotgun.” A sharp word was on her lips but she swallowed it before spinning on her heel and following Matt out to the car.
As the pair walked out, DJ leaned close. “Tell me, Top…you trying to get Laughlin killed?”
Bridger let a slow smile creep across his features. “Those two will either kiss and make up or kill each other.” He shrugged. “I hope they both live.”
“You’re playing with fire,” Mauk replied as he hefted the duffle and walked outside.
“I think it’s sweet,” Gregg said. “I didn’t realize you were a matchmaker, you big softie.” He scooped up his computer bag and headed for the door.
Bridger took a long look at the half finished home and pulled the steel security door shut. He locked it and prayed that he’d be coming back to finish it.
He pulled out the roll of duct tape and ripped off a piece. Holding the white piece of paper to the steel door, he carefully taped the edges then stepped back and studied it.
“Perfect.”
Langley Virginia
Director Jameson had just opened the door to his office when a technician entered the foyer. “Ah, Director, just
