get.”
“Hope it’s the 9mm. I like the stopping power. What about the grenades and the night vision gear? And the knives and pistols?”
“He didn’t seem to think any of it would be a problem.” David tossed a manila envelope onto the table. “Latest satellite images.”
They pored over the photos, hoping to spot any weaknesses in the defenses.
“Where did you have him drop you off?”
“Over by the church. I circled around and took parallel roads for a few hundred yards before cutting back across and taking the main drag. No way he followed me.”
She glanced at the door and lifted her hair with one hand, allowing the chill from the air-conditioning to blow on her neck.
“I’m hungry. Where can a girl get something to eat around here?”
“There are a few restaurants we passed. How adventurous are you feeling?”
“We’re in the middle of the jungle on the mosquito coast. I’d say pretty adventurous.”
They found a little family-style place near the beach that was half-full, all locals, and they both ordered fish with rice. When it arrived, the portions were huge, and neither of them spoke as they ate.
After dinner, they ambled down the waterfront road, hand in hand like newlyweds, listening to the waves as they broke upon the rocky shore.
“So tomorrow. You get the weapons, and then what?” she asked in a quiet voice.
“We check them and confirm that everything is good, and then we reconnoiter the camp before it gets dark. Assuming there are no surprises, once it’s night, we hit them hard and do as much damage as we can. And we try to take one of them alive. I want to understand what they’re doing here.”
“Sounds like a plan. Does this Tom guy know where we’re headed?”
“Negative. He just knows I’m friends with his CIA conduit and need an arsenal. And I’m willing to pay top dollar to get it.”
“What about the photos?”
“The envelope was sealed when he gave it to me. My hunch is he’s the local errand boy, nothing more. A relatively harmless low-end operative, probably part-time, doing a little smuggling, a few coke runs, maybe some shakedowns or protection work. More of an amateur feel.”
“That would make sense. There isn’t a lot here to warrant the A-team that I can see.”
They looked around at the beaten buildings; a scrawny thing of a dog was nosing through a pile of garbage across the street.
“That’s the understatement of the year.”
Chapter 26
At four o’clock the next afternoon, David returned to the room with a camouflage-patterned canvas rucksack. He unzipped it and extracted two MTAR-21 compact assault rifles and placed them on the table. Jet picked one up and methodically fieldstripped the weapon down to its component parts, and then inspected it carefully, eying the integrated silencer with a practiced eye. Satisfied, she did the same with the second before re-assembling them both. She removed eight thirty-round magazines from the bag and put them on the table.
Next came the pistols. SIG Sauer P226 Tactical 9mm pistols with custom silencers and three twenty-round clips for each weapon. She broke down the guns as she had the rifles and scrutinized them, nodding.
“The pistols are good, not great, but they’ll do. Looks like they’ve had a decent level of care, but they’re showing signs of wear. The MTARs are almost new. They’ve got the laser and infra-red pointers, and are also 9mm.”
“They’re Honduran special forces. I presume Tom has a contact in their armory who ‘loses’ them when he has an order.”
Jet raised an eyebrow. “I wonder how many of these go lost every year out of Honduras and Guatemala and the surrounding countries?”
“Probably a lot. No wonder the Mexican cartels have no problem arming themselves with state-of-the-art weapons.”
She extracted six grenades.
“That’ll work.”
David hefted a folding Hornet II combat knife and opened it, inspecting the razor-sharp edge, then pulled out a pair of head-mounted LUCIE night vision goggles and placed them on the table next to boxes of 9mm rounds. Jet reached into the sack and extracted a handheld GPS unit and batteries, and after rooting around some more, a combat first aid kit.
“It’s all here. I’d say with this amount of gear we should be able to handle whatever is waiting for us out in the jungle.”
“Rule number one of field work, I was told by my control years ago, is to never get over-confident.”
“Good rule,” David acknowledged. “I seem to remember something about that.”
They spent a half hour familiarizing themselves with the weapons, cleaning and loading them, and then David tossed a small package to her.
“I hope they had my size,” she commented, unpacking the black coveralls and holding them up.
“I’m sure you’ll be the best-dressed woman in the bush.”
Once the weapons were replaced in the bag, they grabbed bottles of water and then moved their arsenal out to the Jeep. Jet started the vehicle and pulled out of the dirt lot onto the road.
“The compound is six kilometers from the border,” David said, “deep in the jungle. Only one road, so we’ll be doing some hiking to get there. Let’s hope they don’t have anything too sophisticated set up on the perimeter.”
“I can deal with anything they’re likely to have deployed. Just stay behind me.”
David frowned, and she caught his look.
“Sweetheart, when we’re in the field, I’m the one with the most experience, so you need to get comfortable with the idea that I’m in charge there, okay? It’s not a power thing. It’s a survival thing. You still have the biggest equipment in this car…” she said with a smile.
“I get it. I’ll just carry your gear and stay quiet.”
“Try to look pretty for me, too, would you?”
They approached the waypoint she had plugged into the GPS and pulled off the dirt track. She continued until the dense vegetation blocked their way, then killed the engine.
“Quarter mile to the south. Time to earn our keep.”
They donned the overalls and grabbed their weapons, Jet loading her backpack with the bulk of the grenades before handing him two, which he stuffed into his pockets. They set off into the brush, listening for any sounds, but only heard the usual jungle calls of birds and small animals. It would be dark in a few hours, but Jet had wanted to get a feel for the lay of the land before night fell — it would be easier to spot any surveillance equipment during the day.
After fifteen minutes, they were both covered with sweat, and she stopped, using a hand signal to indicate it was time for a break. They’d agreed on no conversation once they were on approach, and Jet was deadly serious about it. After five minutes rehydrating, they set off again, she peering occasionally at the GPS before advancing stealthily through the thick undergrowth, David following her with his MTAR at the ready.
She stopped abruptly and pointed a few feet ahead of them at a barely visible wire strung at calf height between two trees. David couldn’t make it out at first, and then nodded. They approached the tripwire carefully, and she moved to one side, flipping open her combat knife as she did so. She was back in two minutes and gave him a curt nod. She’d de-activated the triggering mechanism — standard Russian special forces issue, and one she was more than passingly familiar with.
An hour later, they were lying in the tall grass, peering at the camp, which was composed of a mess area, two bunk areas and a latrine. A diesel generator clamored off to one side, providing power for the buildings, which
