Desert Impact Read online

  “Are we really going to take it all back?”

  “How you were ever in the Special Forces is a mystery to me,” Bricker said, disgust lacing his tone. “Look, the investigation here is going to shut things down for awhile. We take the stash Sureno’s sitting on, plus what we have in inventory, and sell it down in central Mexico. With all of that, we can hit the beach on the gulf and live like kings.”

  This news seems to brighten Kingston’s mood considerably. “So, what’s the plan?”

  “I’m sending a team out with this truck. It will look like it’s loaded, but we’ll keep most of the stuff stored in these caves for now. They’ll go down to Sureno’s compound and take him out while you and I finish our business up here. Now quit whining and get the damn truck loaded with those skeleton crates.”

  Kingston turned and moved back into the cave, shouting orders, while Bricker stayed by the truck and gave the men loading it instructions to make it look good. When they were finished, his team got into the truck while Bricker and Kingston headed for their personal vehicle. Only a handful of men remained on the scene.

  Bolan dialed Brognola, leaving his phone on speaker.

  “What do you have, Striker?” he asked as soon as he picked up the line.

  “You’re on speaker with me and Merice,” he said. “What we have is a cave full of weapons and a small group of guards, while a truck just pulled out and headed south. Seems like Bricker has decided it’s time to pull up stakes. He’s sending a hit crew down to take out Sureno.”

  “Do they have more weapons in the truck?”

  “Probably a few,” Merice said. “But it sounded like they just wanted it to look good enough to get close to Sureno.”

  “Did Bricker go with them? Can you hit it before they get on the road?”

  “The odds would not be in our favor,” Bolan said. “He’s got a well-armed team on it. Bricker and Kingston left in their own vehicle, so my guess is that they’re headed back into Sierra Vista to close up shop. Give the ATF our location. By the time they get here, we’ll have this area locked down tight.”

  “They’ve already secured Kingston’s warehouse at Fort Huachuca,” Brognola said. “They’ll post men there in case he comes back.”

  “Well, we’d best get to it,” Bolan said. “Tell the ATF not to come rolling in here, guns blazing.”

  “I will. You and Merice just secure those weapons. We’ll deal with Bricker later.”

  “Yes, sir,” Merice said.

  “Yes, sir?” Bolan asked as he ended the call. “This isn’t the Army, you know.”

  “A little respect goes a long way, Striker,” she said. “What kind of a nickname is that?”

  “A nicer one than the other names people call me,” he said.

  “I can imagine that people call you all kinds of things,” she said. “Ready to get to work?”

  Bolan looked at Merice. “I am. Do you think you can tear yourself away from the lap of luxury here to go and take down some bad guys?”

  “I’m not thrilled about it,” she said, patting the seat. “This is practically an easy chair.”

  “Come on,” Bolan said. “Let’s gear up and see if you’re everything your file makes you out to be.”

  “Oh, I’m more than a file,” she said, climbing out of the vehicle.

  “I hope so,” he said.

  * * *

  THE SUN DROPPED below the mountains and left the rugged path up to the cave in shadows. Using night vision goggles, Bolan had spotted two men guarding the path itself and another three moving around inside the cave. It seemed like a safe bet that there were at least a couple more men farther in.

  He spoke softly, the mike connected to his earpiece strong enough to pick up even a whisper. “Merice, are you in position?”

  “Ready when you are,” she said from her post among the rocks. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t get me killed with this plan.”

  “You’ll be fine,” he said. “Just remember to turn left when you get to them and keep it quiet.”

  “Understood,” she said. “Moving now.”

  “Go,” he said, watching the path through the scope of the Tactical Operations Tango 51 sniper rifle. Merice had brought it along in the gear, and with a suppressor attached, chambered for .308, it was perfect for quietly removing guards and anyone else he needed to put in the crosshairs. The reputation of the gun as deadly accurate and its preferred use by SWAT teams in major cities told him that at least his diminutive partner wasn’t clueless when it came to weapon selection.

  He watched as she walked calmly up the path, and then he moved the scope so he could see the guards’ reactions. They were in very official-looking uniforms and were already pointing to the large no-trespassing sign near their post. Nadia cheerfully ignored them until she was close.

  Through her earpiece, he could hear the conversation with ease.

  “Ma’am, this is a no trespassing area. Government property. You’re going to have to turn back.”

  “Ohh...” she said. “I’m sorry. I just got a bit turned around while I was hiking.”

  “It happens out here. Every rock looks the same,” he said.

  “I...I don’t suppose one of you could give me a lift back to my car?” she asked. “It’s at that park?” She pointed vaguely into the distance.

  “Sorry, ma’am,” the closest guard said. “We’re not allowed to leave.”

  “You can say that again,” she said, moving to her left with stunning speed and drawing a flashing weapon from behind her back.

  Bolan fired once, hitting the guard she’d been talking to in the heart. The shot was quiet enough that it was unlikely to have been heard in the cave. He adjusted the scope, but Nadia had done her part. The guard to her left was also dying, his throat cut from ear-to-ear in one smooth motion. He clutched at his gushing throat, apparently wanting to find words, air, anything, but nothing came except crimson, frothy bubbles. He spasmed once, then died.

  She turned to where Bolan was positioned among the rocks and offered a smile and a wave, then began dragging the bodies off the road.

  By the time he’d crossed the hundred yards to Merice, the bodies were no longer in sight and full dark was upon them. The cave was dimly lit from within, but Bolan doubted it would be bright enough to be seen from Tombstone, given the brightness and direction. He checked his watch.

  “I figure the ATF will be here within fifteen minutes,” he said. “There’s three more at the entrance to the cave, plus however many are left inside.”

  “Well, let’s go up there and take them out,” she said, lithely moving up the road. She moved like a panther and Bolan watched appreciatively, as he broke into a light jog to catch up.

  “How do you want to do this?” she asked. They’d stopped about twenty-five yards from the cave, hidden behind a cluster of boulders. The three men were positioned at the cave mouth, casually smoking cigarettes at the front end of one of the trucks.

  “I took a hard look at the entrance before we lost the light. I think we can come at them from both sides,” Bolan said. “If you want to circle left, I’ll go right, and we can coordinate our attack on the center.”

  He moved around the boulders, keeping a low profile. The guards seemed to be paying no serious attention to the environment and it only took a few minutes for Bolan to get in place. He gave Merice another sixty seconds, then keyed his comm. “Are you ready?” he asked.

  “I’ve been waiting for you,” she said. “Let’s do this.”

  “Go when I fire,” he said. “And don’t forget—”

  Merice’s first shot cut him off, and he couldn’t help but grin. He rose from behind his cover and sighted on the closest man, squeezing off a shot from the Desert Eagle. It boomed like a cannon off the rocks and he was dead before he hi
t the ground, the nearly dinner-plate-sized exit wound spattering the truck with gore.

  The third man dove beneath the front end of the truck, and both Merice’s and Bolan’s shots missed. “Close in,” he said. “And watch for stragglers.”

  He jogged toward the cave entrance, keeping the rock face on his right. On the far side, he saw Merice flicker into view in his goggles, then disappear alongside the truck. In the back of the cave, confused shouts told him there were at least a couple more men, wondering about the fate of their comrades.

  Bolan knelt down and peered beneath the truck, but the guard was gone. He’d obviously crawled further into the cave. “Careful,” he said. “The third one is in here somewhere, and there are more in the back.”

  “You’re violating the Rules of Oblivion,” she said, her voice a breathy whisper in his ear.

  He slipped inside the cave, considered asking about the Rules of Oblivion and decided against it, then moved silently between two trucks. He watched the shadows for signs of movement. Weapons crates were stacked along the walls—enough to support a small army—and he noted plenty of places to hide.

  Bolan thought he heard the scrape of a foot on stone and stopped, easing into a wheel well. Suddenly, he saw one of the guards creep forward from between the rows of crates, an M16 held firmly in his hands.

  Chapter 16

  Even in the confined space of the cave, when the enemy already knew he was present, Bolan hesitated to use the Desert Eagle. The sound might allow another man to pinpoint his position, and at the moment, he and Merice had the advantage. He put the gun back into the holster and drew a KA-BAR knife from the sheath in his boot.

  The guard stepped closer, taking his time, and the Executioner waited with the patience of a stone. There was no need to rush, as the man would be close enough to take out in two, maybe three, more steps. Bolan kept still, his lungs barely taking in oxygen as the man took one step, then another. A slight scratching sound came from behind him and his eyes went wide. The guard spun, trying to bring the rifle into play.

  Catlike, Bolan stepped up behind him, jamming his blade into the back of the man’s knee and hamstringing him neatly. He toppled and then fell dead to the floor, Merice’s own knife buried hilt-deep in his throat.

  “I had this one taken care of,” Bolan hissed. “There are others in the back.”

  Her eyebrows quirked upward. “It seemed like you had it all under control, what with the hiding in the wheel well and all.”

  “You’re not funny,” he said. “Let’s just finish this.”

  “Brognola told me you didn’t have much of a sense of humor.”

  Bolan sighed heavily, thought about saying more, then shook his head. He stepped over the dead guard and began moving through the cavern once more, Merice flitting from shadow to shadow ahead of him. They reached a barricade of ammunitions and weapons crates, and Bolan assumed the last guards—two or three of them, judging by what he’d heard earlier—were holed up behind it.

  Outside, the sound of chopper blades cutting the night air was a welcome noise. The ATF would be on the ground in moments. Bolan and Merice took up covered positions, then he called out, “Federal agents! Throw your weapons down and come out of there with your hands up!”

  They could both hear the hurried whispers of the guards, then three rifles and a couple of handguns were tossed over the barricade. “We’re coming out!” a voice shouted. “Don’t shoot!”

  The three men moved cautiously out of their shelter, their hands raised high. Outside the cave, the chopper was landing and Bolan could hear ATF agents moving into the area. He stepped out from behind his own cover, keeping the Desert Eagle trained on the three men. “On the ground!” he ordered. “Now!”

  They did as he said, and Bolan nodded to the ATF men as they closed in, identifying himself as Colonel Brandon Stone. They rushed forward, putting cuffs on the men. “We about done here?” Merice asked Bolan.

  “Yeah,” he said, “we’re about done.”

  On a flimsy card table by the barricade, a cheap rotary phone rang. Bolan stepped away to answer it, spoke quietly for a moment, then hung it up.

  “You were expecting a call?” she asked.

  He chuckled softly. “No, but it’s only polite to answer a ringing phone.”

  She shook her head. “So, what’s next?”

  “We go after Bricker and Kingston, and on the way, you explain the Rules of Oblivion.”

  “I can’t,” she said, slipping the sling of her rifle over a shoulder and following him as he moved back toward the cave entrance.

  “Can’t? Why not?”

  “I’d be violating one of the rules if I did,” she said.

  “I’m speechless with surprise,” Bolan quipped. “Let’s go.”

  * * *

  FOR MEN LIKE Bricker, there were days when he didn’t want to get out of bed and days when battles made time stand still and everything was awash in blood and fire. Then were days like this one, where he longed for either one of those alternatives. The ATF had a squad of men posted at the gate of Fort Huachuca, and he had no doubt they were looking for him.

  Kingston and Bricker drove the perimeter of the fort and watched as the ATF confiscated the weapons that were to be their cash crop. The agents were going over every crate with meticulous precision, taking notes on their clipboards, and with each tick of a pen Bricker could see the dollar bills being taken away. He seethed at the notion that it was all so close, more money than he’d ever need, yet he’d missed the mark.

  He picked up the phone and dialed the camp out by Tombstone. They would need to secure the weapons and get them moved to a safer location until he could arrange for their final transport. The phone rang four times before it was answered, a gruff voice that snapped, “Yeah.”

  “Gregor, what the hell took so long?”

  “This isn’t Gregor.”

  “Who is this?”

  “I think you know who this is. Your weapons are gone, Bricker. I’m coming for you next.”

  Bricker hit the END button on his cell phone and threw it on the floor. “Sonofa... Fuck!” he yelled, pounding the dash.

  “What is it? What’s happened?” Kingston asked.

  “That damn agent, Stone or Cooper or whoever he is, they’ve hit the caves. Everything there is lost.”

  “Oh, God. We’ve got to get out of here.”

  “We will, but we’re going to make one stop first,” Bricker said.

  “Stop? What stop? We need to leave. Now!”

  “Calm down. We’re going to leave, but we need some leverage.”

  “How are we going to get that?”

  “You’ll see,” he said. It was always good to have a backup plan.

  * * *

  THE DRIVE SOUTH from Tombstone wasn’t long, but the hours were beginning to take their toll. Bolan shook off the fatigue, stuffing it into a place in his mind where it would have to wait for later, and took a long drink of water. The fight was just starting, and he knew he needed to be prepared for the battle.

  His handheld rang. Tony was on the line.

  “These boys are getting busy down here,” Tony said.

  “What do you mean?” Bolan asked.

  “I mean they look like they’re hunkering down for an all-out war. You’re not going to be able to get within fifty feet without taking heavy fire. They’re settling in for a long battle—looks like they know you’re coming.”

  “I can’t imagine they’re going to all of that trouble for me,” Bolan said.

  “I’m sure you got under their skin, but these boys look like they’re getting ready for the four horsemen themselves to come riding in.”

  “Okay, stay on them, but if it starts getting too hot, you get your tail out of there.”

 
“Don’t worry. I’ve lived this long and I’ve no intention of sticking my neck out just to have it chopped off. I’ll stay as long as I can.”

  “Thanks, Tony.”

  * * *

  RENE STOOD IN his office, outlining the duties of his sentries with Jesus, who was bent over a map of the compound. There’d been too many surprises and he wasn’t going to let any new complications get in the way. He knew every inch of his hacienda, and he’d defend what was his to his last breath.

  He worked alongside Jesus, ignoring the ringing phone. He knew who it was, and he wanted him to sweat. The gringos weren’t managing their own problems, and he was getting sick of cleaning up their mess. Bricker was a good asset, but sometimes you needed to cut your losses. With the American operative in the mix, the stakes were getting too high. The third time the phone started to ring, he picked it up.

  “Hello.”

  “Where the hell have you been?” Bricker yelled.

  “I’ve been right here the whole time, but I don’t answer to you, my friend. You work for me, remember?”

  Jesus straightened up and watched Rene as he spoke. Rene maintained his casual pose but wanted to slam the phone down on Bricker.

  “I don’t work for you, Rene, but we do have a business arrangement. Look, we’re coming your way and I have one last delivery for you, but then I’m out of business for a while.”

  “Why? What happened?”

  “The ATF is what happened. The damn prisoner that you let escape has happened and half my damn inventory is in the hands of the feds. We’re coming your way. We have to make a new deal.”

  Rene paused and looked down at the plans for his defenses before he responded.

  “Sure, my friend. You come here and we’ll work everything out.”

  Rene smiled as he hung up the phone and tossed it to Jesus.

  “We need to finish all of our preparations right away. We have guests coming and we want to be ready.”