Desert Impact Read online

  “What do you suggest?” Bolan asked.

  “You’re not going to like it,” Tony said.

  “You think we should protect Sureno,” he said.

  “I think we need to get Cardenas to reevaluate his plan. Give him enough pause that he’ll seek out reinforcements before they raid the compound. If we can get him to turn back, we’ll take down Sureno and secure the weapons before he returns with his friends.”

  “That’s a tall order,” Merice said. “Even for a crew like ours.”

  “Yes, but it’s possible,” Bolan said.

  “How? There are only the three of us.”

  “But Tony’s right. We don’t have to beat Cardenas’s crew. We just have to make him think a little harder before carrying out his attack.”

  “I don’t like it,” she said. “It’s got bad idea written all over it.”

  “Agreed,” Bolan said, “but it’s all we’ve got. Tony, what do you have for munitions?”

  “I’ve got a small sampling. We can set up an ambush along Cardenas’s route. A wash wide enough for our vehicles runs through there.”

  “That’s perfect, but I want you to stay here and keep an eye on the compound. If they try to move out of there, you’ll have to come up with another way to change their minds.”

  “Got it.” Tony jumped out of the Conquest and grabbed supplies from his truck.

  Bolan locked the truck into gear and drove into the wash Tony had pointed out on the map, maneuvering between large boulders and mesquite. The wash was wide but cluttered with brush and debris. The armored SUV rolled over the obstacles with little difficulty. He and Merice left the Conquest parked in the wash and climbed to the top of a small dune, scoping out their ambush corridor.

  “We’ll set up charges along the route here,” Bolan said.

  “I’ve got extra fuel in a canister. With a small incendiary, that should be enough to send them home for backup,” Nadia said.

  “Then let’s get to work,” the Executioner replied. “I want to stay focused on those weapons.”

  Chapter 18

  Turning away from the monitors that showed a convoy of trucks headed their way, Sureno smiled serenely at Bricker’s consternation.

  “What do you mean, ‘let them come?’” Bricker asked. “The Cardenas aren’t small operators.”

  “This is a perfect example of why you ran into so much trouble north of the border,” Sureno replied. “You panic too easily. You move before you think. Perhaps you have forgotten your training, or it was poor to begin with.”

  “I haven’t forgotten anything,” Bricker snapped. “Sometimes, you’ve got to do something to get something done.”

  “We won’t need to do anything,” he said. “Colonel Stone will do the work for us.”

  “Why would he do that?” Bricker asked. “He’d have to be crazy.”

  “You’re thinking like a soldier, but consider Stone’s mission. He wants the weapons and he wants us. The Cardenas will be an impediment to that. By waiting, we risk nothing and he risks everything.”

  Bricker nodded slowly. “I suppose that makes sense. The man obviously has a hero complex.”

  Sureno picked up the small radio on his desk. “Jesus, we’ve got company coming from the south. The Cardenas. Stand down and stay hidden until they’re engaged, then capture whoever you can.”

  “Why not wait and take Stone’s team all at once?” Bricker asked. “Maybe while they’re engaged with the Cardenas? I could take my men out and—”

  “You will do nothing,” Sureno cut in. “Whoever we capture will serve as bait for the others. And that is how you kill a hero, you fool. With leverage, not brute force.”

  Seeing Bricker flush with a mix of anger and embarrassment was almost enough to mollify Sureno’s intense desire to kill the man. For now.

  * * *

  THE CARDENAS CONVOY was six trucks long, made up of old M35 cargo trucks that were probably stolen from the Mexican army, judging by the remnants of the paint markings Bolan could see. The two-and-a-half ton rig was known as a deuce and a half when they were originally rolled out by the U.S. Army in the early fifties. The trucks were old, but they were easily repaired and could haul people, weapons and munitions over rough country with ease. Eventually, they’d been picked up by damn near every military, militia and warlord in the world for their general utility.

  Bolan watched through field glasses as the convoy moved down the rutted excuse for a road that led to Sureno’s compound. The trucks were too big to disguise, and the Cardenas weren’t even bothering to hide their approach. Either Tony was right and they had backup coming, or they were packing a whole lot of heat in those deuces. Bolen hoped like hell it was overconfidence, or their whole plan could blow to pieces.

  The last of the daylight was bleeding out of the sky in fans of purple, red, orange and gold, while the blue slowly faded to black. If they were going to force the Cardenas men to turn around, now was the time. Bolan keyed his comm unit. “Merice, go ahead with the signal,” he said as he climbed out of the wash.

  From the far end of the wash, near the road, he saw the flare streak up into the sky. “Done,” she said as the lead truck hit its brakes.

  “Second position,” he replied. “Go now.”

  Through the glasses, he saw the M35s pause momentarily and then turn into the wash. Merice’s movements would be nearly impossible to detect as the vehicles descended into the shadows that dominated the ground cover. So far, so good, Bolan thought. The trucks paused once again, and a squad of men jumped down from the back of the first deuce and started walking ahead of the slow-moving convoy. Despite their show of confidence, they were being cautious enough.

  From his crouched position behind a cluster a rocks near the base of a mesquite tree, Bolan watched as Merice arrived at her second position, a cluster of scrub brush and more mesquite that looked like it had recently been visited by a herd of javelinas. They’d placed the charges deep in the wash and wanted the first half of the convoy fully engaged before they attacked. The men on the ground did nothing to change his plans because it was unlikely they’d see anything in the advancing darkness until it was too late.

  “Standing by,” Merice said over the comm unit.

  Bolan put down the field glasses and switched to the Tango 51 again. It was crucial that they stop the lead driver. “Get ready,” he said. “We’ll go on my mark.”

  “Got it,” she replied.

  The M35s continued their slow forward crawl, and Bolan sighted the driver of the first truck through the scope. The low-light optic worked beautifully, so he could see that the man was leaning over the steering wheel, watching the soldiers in front of his vehicle like a hawk in case one of them should raise an alarm.

  Bolan made a tiny adjustment for the angle of the shot, thankful that the wind had died down completely and that he had a good suppressor on the weapon.

  “Mark,” he said, gently squeezing the trigger. The .308 round pierced the windshield and hit the driver in the forehead, killing him instantly. His body jerked backward while his foot jammed down on the accelerator. The truck ran over two of the men in front of him before the others even knew to get out of the way. The wheel spun and the vehicle rammed sharply into the side of the wash, still accelerating as Merice used the radio to detonate the first of the charges, which hit the third truck in the convoy from both sides. The flying shrapnel flattened tires and tore through the camouflage tarp covering the back of the truck.

  Even from his position, Bolan could hear men screaming in fear and pain. What was left of the ground squad hit the dirt as Nadia detonated the second package. This round of explosions took out the second truck. He saw the driver of that vehicle duck in time to avoid the first blast of shrapnel and glass. As he threw open his door to jump down, Bolan aimed the rifle,
placing a shot in his chest and leaving the body hanging halfway out of the truck.

  The remaining vehicles slammed on their brakes and began reversing through the wash, trying to escape what surely looked like a dirt alley of death. Engines revved and tires spun, kicking up a large cloud of dust. Cardenas’s crew obviously hadn’t expected explosions this far from Sureno’s compound.

  Flickers of fire lit the wash, and men were jumping free of the trucks, recognizing them for the death traps they were under these circumstances. Bolan sighted through the scope once more and found his target as a man tried to climb up over the side of the wash. The Executioner dropped him with a round through the heart. The cartel wasn’t used to this kind of fighting, and the explosions had caused the panic he’d hoped for. “Last one?” Merice asked.

  “Go,” he said.

  She detonated the last of the charges and the lead truck exploded from underneath as its gas tank went up in a giant fireball. Several men stood upright, coated in flames, and staggered away from the wreckage to die. The last three trucks in the convoy were out of the wash now, reversing down the road at full speed. The surviving men chased after them, screaming in Spanish. The Cardenas Cartel was used to being the powerhouse in the area, and they wouldn’t have expected an ambush like this. Only other cartels would ever try to take them on, and then, rarely. Crippled as they were from Bolan’s attack, it wasn’t worth the hassle to stay and fight when they could retreat and come back better prepared. They knew Sureno wasn’t going anywhere.

  “Let’s move out,” Bolan said. “Sureno will have men here in short order, and they can deal with any survivors.”

  “On my way,” Merice replied.

  Bolan slipped the rifle over his shoulder and trotted toward where they’d hidden the SUV. There was still a lot of work to be done, but for now all that mattered was that the Cardenas were out of the picture.

  He slid into the driver’s seat and waited in the growing darkness for Merice. She put her own rifle in the backseat, then climbed in. “That worked better than I thought it would,” she said.

  “They’ll be back,” he cautioned. “With more trucks, men and weapons than we can handle. And they’ll be pissed. I’d rather be gone when they arrive.”

  “Agreed,” she said.

  “Let’s check in with Tony and get going. The night’s not getting any younger.” Bolan clicked on his radio and keyed the tone that would cause Tony’s radio to vibrate. There was no response.

  “Try it again,” Merice suggested.

  Bolan went through the steps once more. Still no response.

  “Is it broken?” Merice asked. “Maybe there’s some kind of interference?”

  Bolan stared through the windshield. “I don’t think so,” he said. “One more time.” He pushed the button to toggle the vibration.

  Finally, the mike keyed open. “They know we’re here,” Tony said. “Get out—”

  The sound of gunshots filled Bolan’s headset, then the mike went dead.

  “Damn,” Bolan said. “Merice, get that satellite feed back up. Let’s see what we’re dealing with.”

  Bolan put the SUV in gear and turned back in the direction of the compound. He had a bad feeling they’d be readjusting their plan for two people instead of three.

  “Two trucks are at our last location near the compound,” Merice told him, studying the satellite feed. “Some men are dragging Tony toward their vehicles.”

  “Then he’s alive,” Bolan said. “And he’s tough. He’ll hang in there.”

  “He’ll hang in there for awhile maybe,” Merice stressed, “but let’s not fool around out here too long. I like that old man.”

  “Yeah,” Bolan said, angling back toward the base of the mountains. “Me, too.”

  Chapter 19

  Bolan down-shifted the Conquest as the wheels dug into the sand dune, trying to find enough purchase to climb. The weight of the vehicle slowed their progress, and the tires began spinning in the sand without gripping. He hit the brakes, keeping the truck from sliding backward.

  “Hold on a second,” Merice said. She reached forward and flipped a switch on the dash.

  Bolan felt the big vehicle sag slightly as the tire pressure dropped. It would give the wheels a larger contact area to grip. “Try it now,” Merice said.

  He was already in four-wheel drive, so he eased off the brakes and gave the engine some gas. The truck lurched forward. When the sand gave way to hard-packed dirt, Merice flipped the switch again, reinflating the tires. “It pays to read the manual,” she said.

  “So I’ve heard,” he muttered as they crested the hill.

  With so many people moving around the hacienda, the satellite feed could only provide limited help, so Bolan positioned the Conquest to overlook Sureno’s compound. There was no guarantee they’d even be able to spot Tony; he could be in one of the holding cells or inside the main house. It was impossible to say.

  Bolan climbed out of the SUV and trained his field glasses on the stronghold. The walls themselves weren’t lit, but the courtyard was brightly illuminated. Plenty of lights also were burning inside the main house.

  Merice joined him. “Listen, Cooper. They know we’re still out here and they know we’re coming back. Maybe we should consider holding off until Brognola can send reinforcements. I had my doubts when there were three of us, but just you and I?” She shook her head. “It’s a suicide mission, Cooper. You know it is.”

  He lowered the glasses. “It’s only suicide if you die doing it,” he quipped. “If we wait, Cardenas is going to return with more men and more firepower to take down Sureno. We can’t hold off any longer. We need to get Tony and the weapons out before we have even more players on the field.”

  “What do you suggest we do?”

  “I have an idea that might just get us out of here alive.”

  “All you’ve got is ‘might?’” she asked.

  “It’s better than ‘here goes nothing,’” he promised. “Get in the truck.”

  * * *

  SURENO STOOD IN front of the old man, who was tied securely to a chair. Bricker paced impatiently behind him, and when he tried to move closer, Sureno stuck out an arm and shook his head. “My house, my rules,” he said. Bricker backed off.

  “It’s not too late, you know,” the old man said.

  “Too late for what?” Bricker asked.

  “To get in your trucks and leave before he decides how he’s going to kill all of you,” the man replied. “I’ve known men like him my whole life. It’s what he does.”

  Bricker paled slightly, but Sureno interrupted. “So you decided to get back in the game.”

  “I’m not in the game. I was just out hunting.”

  “Were I not your prey, I don’t think I’d object quite so much to your ‘hunting,’” Sureno replied.

  “You’re a small fish in this pond, Sureno. And you don’t have to worry about us as much as the man standing behind you, asking for your protection.”

  “Why they hell can’t you people just leave it alone?” Bricker shouted. “Lots of guys play both ends. Go fuck with someone else!”

  “No one likes a traitor,” the old man said softly. “And that’s what you are, Bricker. A traitor.” He cast his gaze at Sureno. “He tell you what we didn’t get yet? What he’s brought into your house?”

  “Kill him right now,” Bricker demanded.

  “He’s no use to you, Sureno. It’s nice that he wants me dead, but you give him and the weapons up, and I’ll convince the Americans to let you live.”

  “I haven’t yet had the leisure to have my men search his vehicles,” Sureno said. “What did he bring me?”

  “A full Army Special Ops team if you don’t get him and his weapons out of here,” the old man said. “He stole sarin gas fr
om Fort Huachuca, Sureno. You think the U.S. government isn’t already making a deal with Mexico City to send in a whole group of people to gut this place and you along with it?”

  “There’s no army knocking at my door just yet, señor,” Sureno said, his eyes narrowing. He turned to Bricker. “Is what he says true?”

  Hesitating for a second, Bricker nodded. “Yeah, it’s true. But so what? Those weapons, along with what I’ve already sold you, will make you the most powerful cartel in Mexico. The Americans won’t risk coming here and creating an international mess.”

  “So you say,” Sureno said. “What makes you think I’d agree to this deal, old man?”

  “I don’t lie, Sureno. The Americans won’t stop until they have their weapons back. You have no use for this shithead traitor. At this point, he’s a liability and he’s going to get you killed.”

  “Shut up!” Bricker screamed.

  Before any more words could be exchanged an explosion shook the ground beneath their feet. Shouts broke out across the compound and gunfire erupted in the night.

  “Your man?” Sureno asked the old man.

  “Maybe,” he said, “or maybe that Special Ops team I mentioned. I guess negotiations are over.” He shoved himself sideways, rocking the chair to the ground as bullets shattered the glass windows of Sureno’s office.

  “Mierda,” Sureno muttered from where he’d hit the floor as he saw Bricker running out the door.

  “You got that right,” the old man said. “Waist deep and rising.”

  * * *

  IN THE BRIEF seconds before the thirteen-thousand-pound weapon she was driving slammed into the gate of Sureno’s compound, Merice experienced a brief flicker of doubt. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that this maneuver would result in her death—and maybe Cooper and Tony’s, too. Then the gates were in front of her and she braced herself for impact.

  “But I always did like to make an entrance!” she said as the dry, heavy wood of the gate splintered, then shattered and fell. Despite her seat belt, Merice nearly slammed her face into the steering wheel. She floored the accelerator, charging into the courtyard and pinning two of Bricker’s trucks in place.