Tex, page 20
“Rosa Sanchez.” The bogus name was a panic rush of words. “I got lost from my unit,” she said in Spanish, trying to throw him off and buy some time. It would explain her uniform. Hopefully, he would think she was ELN or maybe FARC.
His eyes narrowed on hers suspiciously. “We will discover that,” he said ominously, his thin smile sending an icy sensation down her spine. He removed her firearm, then he shoved her ahead of him.
“Ali!” someone yelled, and he shouted he had found her. He forced her away from the village, and she was relieved to find that Cameron had escaped. But her heart stalled before they melted into the forest. He looked back and grinned smugly.
Tex and the team had parked the jeeps about half a mile away so as not to give away their position. Shark was currently doing recon, so they knew what they were getting themselves into. TOC was unavailable through the radio. Damn jungle.
“LT?” Shark’s voice came over the his comm.
“Go for Tex.”
“The buildings are prefab and crude, but I found where they’re keeping the villagers. It’s bad, LT. There are only five miners here and it looks like all of them are sleeping in the first prefab. The rest must have been at the village.”
“Okay, stay put. Any children?”
“No, sir.” Shark’s voice was grim.
“Copy.”
Tex swore softly. “We're going to get the hostages and leave them be, aren’t we?” Bondo asked.
“Yes,” Tex said. “They’re sleeping, not a threat. We’re not killing men in cold blood. That would take us down to their level.”
Bondo nodded. “I’m aware. I already knew what you were going to say. It’s just if they regroup—”
“I’m aware. The hostages could end up back in this place. We can’t save everyone, Bondo.” He was quiet for a moment. “But if they shoot at us…”
“Hoo-yah.”
“Execute,” he said into the comm. The team advanced, moving to Shark’s position. The last prefab on the row. Ahead, the building was dark, but the compound was lit. Gas generators. Just as he thought that, everything went dark.
Shark came out of the jungle. “It will take them a while to either fix them or get new ones.” He grinned.
Together they rushed to the last building, sliding along the side to look into the windows.
There were villagers inside, some prone, others propped against the wall. They looked malnourished and physically abused.
The door was secured with one padlock. Brawler used his knife to break the lock away from the flimsy wood. They entered the building, methodically clearing the hall, each room.
“Clear, LT,” Dagger said.
Twister was already administering first aid as best he could. “Let me know when they’re ready to move.”
“Copy that,” Twister said with compassion in his voice. Tex felt the same remorse that they couldn’t do much for these people except to get them home. “They’re in bad shape, LT. Some will have to be carried.”
“The chief’s wife and daughter. Find them,” Tex said. “The rest of you keep your eyes peeled.” He looked at his dive watch. Time was running out and he didn’t like leaving Nora and Cameron back at the village alone. “Twister?” he said impatiently.
“Ready, sir. We found them.”
“Let’s move out.”
Brawler, Flash, Easy, and Dagger picked up four villagers, two men and two women. The remaining three were moving on their own. The rest of the team exited the building, and at a quick walk, they left the miners behind.
They made good time getting back to the jeeps, loaded up the villagers and the SEALs, and headed back to the camp.
They were booking down the rough dirt road when up ahead someone came running out of the jungle wildly waving both arms.
The headlights illuminated the person as guns bristled from both jeeps. The SEALs immediately looked toward the quiet jungle on both sides for an ambush. But after Tex pushed up his night vision goggles, his blood ran cold.
It was Petty Officer Ryan, and she was alone.
The jungle was dense and wet, not a breeze stirred. The air grew thicker with each reluctant step Nora took. Ali was behind her now, their pace quick, and if he shoved that gun in her back again, she was going to have to hurt him. Which was her bravado speaking. He had bullets and knew how to use them.
Tex would come for her. She trusted that. It was a strangely euphoric feeling, like a long-held breath finally exhaled. It was her job to stay alive and gather as much information as she could. She listened intently as they talked about the plane and about the other Americans. How he wasn’t in any shape to fly. They debated who she was and if she was telling the truth.
They stopped, the man in front holding up his hand. He pulled out a canteen and drank deeply. Her mouth was so dry from the fear. All five of them drank, ignoring her. Then Ali offered her the container. She took it without comment and drank deeply. The water was warm, but it wet her mouth and bolstered her.
“I have to go.”
Ali’s head came up. “I’ll take her,” he said in Spanish. He probably knew it was a ruse, but she had to try to get away.
“Can I get some privacy,” she said, lifting her chin.
“No. Do your business, woman.”
She reached for her belt buckle and his eyes dropped away from her face, licking his lips. Pervert. This was humiliating, but when she squatted down and went, she found a stone with her hand. She finished up, palming the stone, then dropping it into her pocket.
She stood and did up her clothes. He turned and motioned with the rifle, and she stepped close to him before he could react, the rock already in her hand. She hit him in the head. He whirled and she was ready. Packing all her fear and anger into her fist, she let loose with a jab to the nose, blood gushing. He went backward, stumbling and nearly falling, but kept his ground. She was already running hard and headed back toward the village. Her breath was harsh in her ears, but she could hear a shout and footsteps behind her.
He threw his weight into her, hitting her back, and the impact snapped her head back before she fell hard. Then he was on her, crushing her into the wet ground. She tried shoving him off and they wrestled for a moment, his cursing not boding well for her.
She bit his arm and he howled in pain, then whipped out a knife, pushing it in her face so close that if she moved, he’d cut her throat.
He called her very bad names in Spanish.
“Ali. Let her up. We can’t get information out of a dead woman. You can’t expect a warrior to willingly go to her execution.”
He called her a few more names as he backed off her body.
She stood and one of the others came toward them. Ali shoved her in his direction. “Tie her up.”
She could only get satisfaction out of bloodying his nose.
They started to move again.
Tex wasted no time after they picked up Petty Officer Ryan who had the presence of mind to go back for Nora’s ruck. Her helmet and flight suit were in there and she couldn’t fly the plane without them.
The woman had kept her head. “There are twelve of them, speaking Arabic. They were yelling at the chief. We thought, Lieutenant Wilson and I, that they were Hezbollah. She ordered me to run, sir, said we couldn’t be caught together.”
“That was smart,” he said as the jeeps drove right into the village. He was out and calling for the chief. He came rushing out of one of the grass huts, relief at seeing Cameron, but then tears welled in his eyes as he rushed to his wife and daughter, hugging them.
“We kept up our part of the deal. I need to know where that plane is and who were the men who were here trying to find our people?”
The chief swallowed hard, responding in Spanish. “The plane was taken to an airstrip not far from here. Your friend was taken by Hezbollah. They run the airstrip, transport drugs out of it to fund their terrorism.”
“This man is my spy. He will show you where they have taken the plane.”
“And my friend?”
The chief said, “The Hezbollah have hut to make drugs for shipment. I show you where.”
Tex nodded. He turned to Bondo. “You take the team and secure the plane and get Ryan working on it. I will go after Nora and bring her to the airstrip.”
“LT—”
“No arguments, Bondo.”
“At least take Dagger.”
“No, you’ll need him. I can get Nora on my own. Move.” He could tell Bondo wasn’t happy about his plan, but he didn’t care. He’d left them here without any backup. He was going to be the one to get her back.
One of the villagers brought the chief a bow and arrows along with a blowpipe. “Keep up,” was all Tex said and he plowed into the jungle, his only thoughts were about getting to Nora.
“We have our orders,” Bondo said, looking to where Tex had disappeared into the jungle. The villager who had been assigned to them got into the jeep without a word. Putting aside his concern for their leader, he looked over at Cameron standing there with two packs. He still had a hard time reconciling the delicate woman with escaping Hezbollah, navigating the jungle, and having the presence of mind to save the mission by retrieving Lieutenant Wilson’s pack. He couldn’t envision Davis handling the stress as well as Cameron had.
The woman was a sopping mess, her hair untamed…again. Damn if he didn’t want to find a secluded spot and do something about cooling her down, then heating her up. She met his gaze, her chin lifting, her wide blue eyes staring at him as if she could read his mind. Attitude. She had it in spades and he was forced to admire her grit.
He swore softly and strode over to her. “What are you waiting for, Petty Officer. Get in the fu—damn jeep,” he growled. Angry at himself for more reasons than he could name or understand. Dagger, Brawler, Beast, Twister, Easy, and Flash were in one jeep, leaving the villager, Cameron, him, and Shark in the other. Bondo slipped into the passenger seat. He turned around to the back. “How far is this airfield?” Bondo asked the villager.
“Not far. I show.”
His whole body vibrating with temper, he ordered, “Drive until he tells us to stop, or we run out of gas.”
The jeep bumped along the sorry excuse for a road, nothing but a narrow dirt track that led deeper into the jungle.
Tex was a tough son-of-a-bitch. He would get Nora and they would get this damn plane off the ground. He looked at his dive watch. They had four more hours before exfil.
The wheels of Bondo’s jeep splashed through a narrow, shallow stream, the jungle green never-ending. It reminded him of Louisiana’s bayou, where Sarah had been born and they had visited often. A wild, lush oasis. Trees crowded shoulder to shoulder with a dense canopy that blotted out the sun, leaving the ground below them veiled in darkness.
Except in the verdant bayou only alligators and water moccasins lurked in Eden. Here the ferns, trees, and vines veiled a world of illicit, terrible men who took what they wanted without regard for human life.
After fifteen minutes of driving, the villager tapped Shark’s shoulder. “Stop now.”
Shark braked and the man got out and pointed down the road. “Airstrip at end. Bad men there with metal bird.” Then he turned, set his hand over his heart, and walked back the way they had come.
“Pull the jeeps off into the jungle,” Bondo said as Shark turned the wheel, gunned the engine, and drove into a break in the trees, crushing plants beneath the thick treads. Slipping out of the jeep, he said, “Give me Lieutenant Wilson’s pack.”
Cameron reached down at her feet and pulled up the ruck, lifting it onto her lap. He undid the flaps and pulled out Nora’s helmet and flight suit. “Leave the rest,” he said, and Cameron dropped the pack onto the floor.
She looked at him as the guys moved in his peripheral gathering their gear and getting ready for the trek and assault. A soft breeze caught her hair, blowing the untamable strands everywhere, across her luminous eyes, her pert nose, and full, sensual mouth. His hand twitched to smooth it back. He was a hardened warrior, seen combat, death, and destruction. How could one woman fluster him?
He felt the magnetic pull of her, a chemistry that he had never felt for another human being, not even Sarah. His keen awareness of her as a woman had a disarming hold on him, and he was conscious of nothing except the way her eyes sucked him in and seemed to reach down to his scarred soul with so much promise.
He got hard in the middle of an op, surrounded by danger, against all the Navy’s rules, against his own will. It was wrong, unforgivable, reckless, and unquenchable.
“Bondo!” Shark said sharply as if it wasn’t the first time he’d spoken his name.
Without taking his eyes off Cameron, he snarled, “Move out.”
The team moved fast, their NVGs back in place, and focused energy crackled in the dark of the jungle. They were locked and loaded for search and destroy. They came to the edge of the jungle, the growth had been sheared back as three large hangers sat about equal distance apart, tan in color, definitely large enough to house a stolen F-18 prototype. Everything was quiet, no lights, no movement but his gut told him the packages were here, both the hostages and the prototype.
“Shark, Dagger, take out the guards, find the plane.”
“Brawler, take Beast and find the pilot.”
Their low voices sounded over the radio. He looked at Cameron. “Stay on my six.”
She nodded, her eyes alert and ready for whatever he asked of her. He took a deep breath and wished he hadn’t. She had been smart not to wear anything that would give her away in the jungle, but the sweet and musky scent of her was just as bad for his equilibrium.
“Easy, overwatch. Flash and Twister, you’re with me.”
Shark’s voice came over the comm. “Perimeter guards down. Hangar secure. Jet is in the last hangar, Bondo.”
“Copy that.” He rose to a crouch, and started across the crude runway, tucking in behind a storage shed. With him, the four of them fast walked to the hangar. Shark had already jimmied the side door.
Inside the hangar was cavernous, and even, soft sounds echoed. “Assess the plane, Petty Officer,” he said. “Shark, guard the door. Dagger, outside. I don’t want any surprises.”
“Hoo-yah,” Dagger said as he disappeared back out into the night.
Bondo turned his attention back to Cameron. She had raised the canopy and was checking the instrument panel. After a few minutes, she slipped out and monkeyed down to the underside of the plane and tinkered around for another few minutes.
“Ryan?” Bondo said impatiently.
“This baby doesn’t come out of a crackerjack box,” she quipped. “It’s the stabilizer. I can fix this.”
“ETA?”
“An hour.” She gestured behind her. “Bring me those tools,” she said, giving him a brief look. He pushed his rifle to the side and walked over to the tool caddy. He pushed it close to her.
Tex swatted at vines, pushing faster. Damned if the little old guy kept up. He was accustomed to this fast pace, but not the heat and thin air. His breathing strained a bit.
He drank on the fly until the chief held out his hand, showing a clearing up ahead. He went to the edge of the jungle, and they crouched there while Tex took in the landscape. There was an odor in the air he identified as kerosene. Drug processors used it as a means to extract the cocoa powder from the leaves.
There was a large tan building and no movement or lights that he could see. He looked at the chief, but he was studying the building intently.
Tex switched to thermal and found six people bunched together in one room. Two of them broke off and headed for the front of the building. There were another six scattered between the six and the door. As he watched, one of them shoved someone against the wall.
“Guards.”
Tex looked at the chief and he gestured toward the building. Sure enough, the two more men came out and stood guarding the entrance.
He was going to take on Hezbollah with an old chieftain toting a bow and arrow and a blowpipe. He must be out of his mind.
He switched his rifle from single shot to automatic, checked his sidearm, releasing the safety and racking the slide.
Hang on, babe. I’m coming for you.
16
Tex would come. She didn’t doubt it for a moment as they slammed into the dim warehouse. She wrinkled her nose at the thick smell of gasoline in the air, mixed with a chemical scent. Ali had a hold of her elbow as he ushered her through the building. It was a large structure, with water-stained walls and ceilings, a huge vat in the middle along with lab equipment. They passed into another section of the warehouse that housed a helicopter, a by-plane, and various vehicles.
Finally, they walked into the last section where there were rows of supplies on shelves along with pallets of boxes and barrels of chemicals.
Several small rooms jutted off on the left-hand side of the structure, some filled with computer equipment and filing cabinets, others with a table and chairs, and one with a metallic gurney, surgical-type equipment on a metal tray beside it.
Horror gripped her; the thought of being in that room made her stiffen. This would be DEA’s and Homeland’s heaven. A bona fide Hezbollah drug processing plant and office of operations in the Amazon. The only possible avenue of escape was a large window big enough to fit through. She could use one of the chairs to smash the glass. She looked out and could see overgrown grasses. The green land beyond practically made her mouth water. She had to figure out how to take down fourteen capable men, all with automatic weapons.
Ali shoved her and she hit the wall and slid down. At least it was cool in here, the sweat from the jungle drying on her body. Her skin felt tight. She wasn’t convinced they believed her story, but she suspected Hezbollah was smart enough to garner favor with every faction in the Amazon, if not by negotiation, then by fear. No one wanted to screw over a terrorist—men crazy enough, dedicated enough to strap on a bomb and blow themselves up for the cause.
