Mario gave him a smile that did not reach his eyes. “No, amigo. They have to die now.” He patted the larger man’s jowls. “They are but a handful. We outnumber them twenty to one.” He turned and pointed to the sloping hill. “They are under there, so you know they cannot use heavy weapons or explosives without it coming down on their own heads.”
“But, señor, this is their turf. They have the advantage.”
Mario stiffened and his face grew red with anger. “No, Fernando. WE have the advantage. Superior numbers, superior firepower.” He leaned close and his voice dropped to a whisper, laced with venom. “They WILL pay for what they have done. I will see them crushed under my heel.” He gripped the man’s shirt and pulled him closer. “Or we will die trying.”
Fernando swallowed hard and nodded, sweat forming on his forehead again. “Si, señor.” He turned and barked at the others, “Split up! Find them!”
Mario turned and marched up the hill, stepping over fallen trees and splintered wood. He could feel his anger rising as he closed in on the closest steel door. “I am coming for you, Bravo. It’s time to pay.”
40
Near Quitman, TX
Gregg stared at the flashing indicator on his laptop. “Oh yeah. We got company.” He leaned closer then tapped at his keyboard. “Looks like we got a LOT of company.” He gave Bridger a smirk. “I hope you hid the silver and broke out the cheap wine.”
Bridger squared his shoulders and let his breath out slowly. “Okay, Bravo. You know what to do.” He watched as Lisa and Laughlin split off and headed down the hallway they would defend.
“One last time?” Laughlin asked, a knowing grin crossing his face.
“One last time.” Lisa charged her carbine and turned to march side by side with him.
Mauk and DJ did a quick fist bump.
“See ya on the other side, brother,” Mauk stated.
DJ nodded. “Watch your six.”
The pair then split away and trotted down their own hallways. Bridger hefted the SCAR heavy and jammed a magazine into the bottom of the rifle. “Time to make the doughnuts.”
Gregg stood from his computer and gave him a serious look. “Where do you want me?”
“Right here.” Bridger returned his gaze with a knowing look. “If they happen to break through any of the branches, it will lead them here first. I need you to prevent them from advancing on anybody else’s back and catching them in a crossfire.”
Gregg nodded and picked up a P90. “Stay on coms this time, yeah?”
Bridger gave him a sharp smile. “Stay frosty.”
He turned and trotted down the north hallway leaving Gregg alone with his thoughts. And all of the beer.
Near Quitman, TX
Mario stood at the base of the steel door, his rifle in hand and ready to fire. The men in front of him used a crowbar to snap the bracket holding a padlock then tugged at the heavy steel cover.
Mario ignored the spider webs and the creepy crawlies that scattered once the door seal was broken and bent low, peering into the depths of the catacombs. He waved his men inside then fell into step with them, their boots making a muffled clatter as they took the concrete steps too quickly.
He was actually surprised when his feet hit the floor and it was dirt. He half expected to see finished walls, concrete floors and electrical conduits running the length of the tunnel.
He glanced at the roughhewn walls and the black cabling draped along the top; a single LED light bulb dangling intermittently providing very little illumination.
One of his men pushed past him, a federale shield held with one arm with a pistol gripped in his other hand. The others stepped to the side as he worked his way forward, then the men formed a V behind him as he slowly advanced.
Mario tried to peer past the men, to see what they were advancing into, but the lighting was so poor that he could barely make out ten feet in front of them. He glanced at the low-watt bulbs and muttered, “Cheap bastard.”
One of the men announced in a loud whisper, “Stay alert.”
Mario sighed as he squared his shoulders and stretched his neck. “This will be like shooting fish in a—”
His sentence was interrupted as a deafening explosion blasted sand, rocks and debris into the lead man.
Near Quitman, TX
Lisa bent low and slid an angled mirror past the corner. She glanced at the shadowy figures making their way down the tunnel. She squinted as she stared at the reflection. “Son of a bitch,” she whispered.
“What’s wrong?” Laughlin asked.
“They’re using bulletproof shields.” She groaned under her breath then keyed her coms. In a whispered voice she announced, “Vulture, Sparrow. They’ve got ballistic shields.”
Bridger’s voice whispered back in her ear, “Copy that. I doubt they’ll stand up to the claymores.”
A moment later the concussion of the blast blew past her, setting her ears to ringing. She winced then fell forward, landing on her side, her carbine belching destruction down the long tunnel corridor.
Laughlin straddled her form and began to spray bullets in the same direction. He could see where the men had been as the dust cloud still hung in the air. He could only follow her lead and pray that he wasn’t wasting ammunition by shooting the walls.
Muffled screams came from the end of the tunnel corridor as Lisa yelled, “Changing mags!” She quickly ejected the empty one and slammed a fresh magazine into the well.
Laughlin covered her then stripped his own empty magazine, letting it drop near her legs. He squeezed her shoulder and she let up on the trigger. “Let them regroup. There are more charges between us.”
He gripped her hand and pulled her to her feet.
