Borderlands (Mitch Kearns Combat Tracker Series Book 6) Page 14

  Tony knelt down and removed a stick of jerky protruding out of Bagley’s front shirt pocket. Tearing open the wrapper, he bit off a piece then peered through his binoculars at the cement building on the hill, a half-mile away. He saw a group of Mateo’s men staked out behind boulders around the perimeter engaged in a battle with the Kestrel Militia scattered around the eastern flank of the valley. Panning his vision between the two, he spied a cluster of slow-moving figures in the middle making their way towards the building. Tony adjusted the zoom on the lead figure then let out a gruff exhale.

  “Damn—Rafael is here too. Now, this is really getting interesting.” He started chewing feverishly. “If Mateo doesn’t come clean on the location of my money then Rafael will once I whip the information from him.” He lowered the binoculars, thinking about the implications as he watched a finger-long centipede greedily moving over the gray matter trickling out of Bagley’s ruptured skull.

  Hell, if I nail these two thugs maybe there’ll be a promotion in my near future. Then again, with 1.2 million dollars in my pocket, I could just start life over in a nicer part of the world.

  Tony removed his cellphone and texted Mateo his direction of travel one more time so he wouldn’t get shot upon approaching. Then he stood up in a half-squat and continued forward past the glassy-eyed corpses of the two militia men while carefully placing each foot down in the thick brush. Sure hope I don’t step on any rattlers.

  Chapter 31

  Mitch and Rafael had agreed to split into two groups. Mitch would trail around the front side of the building, drawing Mateo’s forces away, while Rafael would come up the middle towards the rear entrance.

  Mitch stood by Nora, listening to the valley echo with gunfire as Rafael instructed his men on escape and evasion tactics after the battle ended, concerned as much for their safety as the objective ahead.

  “Think that’s a militia group up there?” Nora said, pointing to the distant muzzle-flashes strung out along a segment of the canyon rim to their left.

  “Sure isn’t border patrol—they’d be more surgical than these clowns and they’d also have air support swooping down on the region by now. Not sure why they’re not here.”

  Nora glanced over the canyon to the north as the full moon crept upward, illuminating a patchwork of juniper trees that stood silently over the battle below.

  “I hope everything’s OK back home.” She ran her hands along the side of her flushed cheeks. “God, how did it come to this—a war right on our doorstep? Used to be all you had to worry about ranching in these parts was the weather and the payout for beef at the end of the season. Now, it’s not much different than when this was the frontier.”

  “I saw the same thing over in Afghanistan with the poppy growers. Their fields can be destroyed and they’ll just regroup and move to another remote location to start over. As long as there’s a buyer the product will find its way into the market. It’s simple economics. And our country has plenty of people from Anchorage to Georgia who want to escape the doldrums on their daily grind by using the drugs that flow through here.”

  She rolled her eyes. “It was a rhetorical question, but thanks for being so optimistic, Mitch.” Nora elbowed him in the side then grabbed her rifle.

  “Careful, or I might accuse you of acting friendly.”

  “Shut up, cowboy.”

  “Now, let’s go get your brother and get the hell out of here. Stick close and remember to use short, controlled bursts.”

  Mitch moved up to Rafael, whose men had assembled behind him. “Listo, amigo?”

  “Ready when you are.”

  Rafael extended his hand. “In case we don’t cross trails again, my old friend.”

  Mitch returned the handshake. “Not sure what we are but you’re someone I trust in this instance to watch my back while I do the same.”

  Rafael continued his grip while nodding at Nora then glancing back at Mitch. “Friendship is not just about how long you’ve known someone but about having faith in the person God sends your way on a sunny day when you think your life is about to slip away at the end of a rope. I am here today because of you—and tomorrow, when the sun rises and the Almighty shines down upon us after our victory, maybe then we can call each other friends.”

  Mitch felt an unshakeable air of certainty emanating from the eyes of the man before him. It was more than just pre-fight adrenaline or the resolve of a determined warrior. Rafael possessed a confidence born from having survived in a line of work where few men reached their thirtieth birthday. It was evident that even the men around him had a loyalty that went beyond mere revenge against Mateo. To them, he was a father figure who lived by a code of frontier justice that Mitch identified with. The man was an enigma and Mitch found himself at odds trying to figure out if he would turn in the weathered smuggler to the feds after this or let him slip away into the desert.

  Mitch tilted his head and finished his handshake. “Eres un hombre de fe en más de una.”

  Rafael took in the meaning of the words then nodded back. “Gracias, but we are both men of faith, amigo, or neither of us would have made it this far in life in our given line of work.”

  Rafael motioned to six of his men to follow him while the other four accompanied Mitch and Nora. After splitting off, Mitch led the way, the small group stalking in single file between the mass of shrubs that wound its way beneath the base of the hill.

  Chapter 32

  Twenty minutes later, Tony came up past the first of Mateo’s sentries beneath the base of the weather station building. Dusk was filled with the sound of intermittent gunfire being issued between Mateo’s men around the hilltop and the distant militia group. After being cleared, he trotted up the sandy embankment to the rear entrance. Cresting the entrance, he was met by Mateo, who had an unlit cigar in the corner of his mouth, and greeted him with a hearty handshake.

  “Good to see you, amigo,” Mateo said, showing him inside. “And you have the device?”

  Tony removed the anodized hard drive from his pocket and handed it to him. “I didn’t get the girl but I have something just as good.” He yanked his cellphone out and pulled up a video of the interview he did at the Jacobs’ house with Amy.

  “Muy bien—you’ve done well.” Mateo walked slightly ahead of Tony as they made their way into the next room, which was filled with old video consoles caked with fine dust. The air smelled of sweat, damp concrete, and rodent droppings. Sitting with his arms zip-tied to a metal chair was Steven Jacobs. The man’s face was flushed red from the stifling heat inside the building. Tony gave Vincent a nod of recognition then propped his phone against the silver briefcase in front of Steven.

  “In case you need some motivation,” said Tony with a wry smile as he pressed the play button but kept his thumb over the time stamp so Jacobs would think it was a live feed. “As you can see, your daughter is in good company with my man Alex back at your ranch, so I would not for a second hesitate to give my good friend here what he wants.”

  Tony stood back and examined the hardened features of Mateo, trying to determine how things were going to play out now that he had fulfilled his role. He thought after delivering the hard drive that he would be in Mateo’s favor again and then be invited back across the border. Knowing the surly gangster, they would probably return to Mateo’s house to hopefully discuss future business ventures over shots of tequila on the back porch. This would place Tony back in the heart of Mateo’s command center and put him one step closer to locating his missing funds.

  Mateo had already inserted the hard drive into the device while Vincent removed a folding knife from his pocket and sliced off the zip-tie restraints on Steven’s wrists.

  Tony turned off the video then shoved Steven’s chair forward into the edge of the desk. “How long is it going to take to download the locations for all of Rafael’s RIP crews along the border?”

  A vein in Steven’s forehead was pressing outward and he nervously tapped his fingers on the desk before reachi
ng for the keypad on the device. “Ten minutes or less since we’re only talking about one frequency type.”

  Tony smiled and looked up at Mateo. “It’s like you always said, jefe: with the proper motivation a man can achieve great things.”

  Chapter 33

  The gritty surface on the slickrock gave way to fine sand as Mitch and his small band snaked their way within fifty yards of the hill. He raised his hand for his group to pause then scanned the small game trail that headed up to the left. There were six of Mateo’s men fanned out around the walls of the weather station.

  He raised his fingers up to the two closest men behind him, assigning each one a target, with him shooting the remaining sentries. With the rest of Mateo’s men still tied up in a shootout with the militia on the other side, he figured Rafael would be able to dispatch the others.

  Mitch glanced back at the hardened faces of Rafael’s men, hoping each one was the sharpshooter he figured they were, having been guerilla fighters for so long. He leaned back and motioned to Nora to cover their rear flank. He wasn’t as worried about hostiles coming in from that direction as he was that she would get involved in the killing. She’d already witnessed enough bloodshed for one day and he didn’t want her to carry the burden of taking someone’s life, even if it was justified.

  Once he was sure everyone was clear on their roles, he steadied his rifle. The moon was just beginning to crest the rim of the distant canyon to the north and he knew the light was only sufficient enough to focus on imprecise forms through his scope. He had chosen this range for sniping from past experience in sentry removal in countries where his actions were government-sanctioned. Now, he wasn’t so sure how this would go over with the authorities but took some comfort that the rifle in his hands belonged to Ed Bagley.

  Mitch focused his sights on the farthest figure, dropping him with two rounds to the chest then immediately switching over to the next man a few feet away, who fell forward on top of the body below him. The same pattern had repeated itself with Rafael’s shooters until the pathway above only showed the bare cinder-block wall of the building. Mitch lowered his rifle and trotted up the hill with the others flowing in behind him, stepping over the fallen bodies as he moved towards the front door.

  Chapter 34

  Mateo put his hands on his hips and moved closer to Tony. “So, how you been, huh? Things going OK for you since business dropped off after the last time we worked together?”

  “Piecing work together—what the hell ya gonna do? It’s a feast or famine existence doin’ transports in my line of work.”

  Vincent was resting his left hand on a large bowie knife on his hip. “So, Tony, I am curious ’bout somethin’—who was the hombre in da video? I do not recognize him from the crew you used to run—seemed a little clean-cut for you.”

  “New guy—likes his clothes pressed and wears too much cologne but that’s better than the alternative, eh. I think he just needs to get laid more often.” Tony kept a straight face when he spoke and made sure not to fidget with his fingers, which he usually did when he was nervous.

  “There’s this guy in Tucson—regular customer of mine,” said Mateo. “Runs a big car dealership—rich hombre. Knows everybody.” He leaned over and placed his hand on Steven’s shoulder while keeping his eyes locked on Tony. “In fact, he’s the one who dealt me in on our computer expert here.”

  Mateo moved back and leaned on the edge of the desk, his hands gesticulating as he spoke. “So, this guy starts telling me one day at his house about how he gets his vehicles, these fancy Porsches with the leather bucket seats, delivered to his dealership in Tucson. We’re just sitting by his pool, me swigging on one of those pussy designer beers the gringos all like, when I tell him I know this hombre in the transportation business—solid guy named Tony who can probably ship his cars at half the price of the fuckin’ car distributors.”

  Tony noticed his index finger twitching. He balled up his fists and gave Mateo a slight nod while clearing his throat. “I appreciate that.”

  Mateo leaned forward and patted Steven on his right cheek. “Your dos minutos are almost up. Any longer and I will have Vincent remove part of your nose followed by your ears.”

  “Almost done,” said Steven, whose typing rate had just increased.

  “Anyway, where was I?” said Mateo, needling a finger into his forehead. “Ah, yes, so I give my American friend your name and photograph. He comes back a few weeks later and says he can’t find a fucking thing on you.” Mateo frowned and raised his hands in the air. “I tell him that you’re probably lying low for a while after everything that went down following Rafael’s disappearance.”

  “Yeah, that’s for sure, man,” said Tony. “Whole thing between you and Raf was bad for business—for everyone.”

  Steven leaned back in his seat, removing his hands from the keypad and letting out a deep exhale. “It’s all here—the coordinates of over twenty-three fixed camps in the desert between Phoenix and the border.”

  Mateo looked at the computer monitor, which showed the points highlighted by green triangles. “Madre de Dios.” His grin was so wide his teeth seemed to cast their own glow into the dark confines of the interior. After a minute of lustily gazing at the triangles spread around southern Arizona, Mateo pried his eyes away from the screen and stepped closer to Tony to continue his story.

  “But then the guy tells me about this woman he picked up one night at a bar on the west side. Takes her home, has some blow, has some fun.” He stood and thrust his hips out. “Bitch says she’s getting divorced from her old man ’cause he’s gone all the time. Guy neglects his woman’s needs and she can’t take it anymore. Says she got tired of being married to a cop.”

  Tony was clenching his fingers hard enough into his palms that the nails bit into the flesh. He felt the heat of the room pressing against him as if the cement walls were being pushed forward by hydraulic jacks. He took a deep breath, his throat going dry. His peripheral vision was keeping tabs on Vincent, who had just taken a step to his right.

  Tony snorted in a breath. “Fuckin’ cops—guys spend too much time being dicks instead of using their own.”

  Mateo laughed then stood up, moving closer. He reached up and popped the mother-of-pearl button on his shirt pocket open, then removed a small photograph. “But this puta—this lonely, unsatisfied woman still kept a picture of her husband in her purse.”

  Tony didn’t need to see the image to know what was coming next. Like most undercover agents, he had dreaded the day when his cover might get compromised but he had always hoped it would be after a targeted kingpin was in cuffs, while he was surrounded by a dozen backup agents who had rushed in the door.

  All he had wanted upon entering this dusty shack was to locate the whereabouts of his money. Now his plan had changed to surviving the two sharks circling him, knowing that he was completely alone. His years of training had prepared him for this moment but his head was still reeling from the fact that thirty-six months of painstaking work in building an undercover identity had unraveled in mere seconds. He felt like a calloused veneer had just been ripped away from his soul—like he had become that pathetic adolescent in the slums of El Paso who was embroiled in a fight for his life once more.

  Tony heard the gritty scuffle of feet on the cement floor and spun to his right as Vincent rushed at his stomach with a blade. Tony parried the attack then sent an uppercut into Vincent’s jaw, which drove him back into the desk. Reaching for his concealed pistol, he felt like he had been struck by a hammer in the lower back as Mateo drove a dagger into his kidney. Tony backhanded Mateo then withdrew his pistol and fired an awkward shot with this trembling hand into Vincent’s leg as the man charged at him.

  Before he could swing around to shoot Mateo, the front door of the building swung open followed by a hail of precision gunfire. As he fell to the floor, his body heaving with the blood loss from the knife wound, he saw Mateo duck out from behind the metal desk and grab the briefcase then b
olt for the back room.

  Chapter 35

  After Mitch fired into the lock on the front door, he swept inside with a dynamic entry and fired two rounds into the torso of a knife-wielding man near Steven Jacobs. A second figure in a police uniform shot out from behind a steel desk, snatching up the briefcase in front of Steven. Mitch couldn’t get off a clear shot without risking hitting Jacobs, and the man bolted for the rear door. As Mitch and his small band poured into the small room, he focused his rifle on a stout figure on the ground who was bleeding profusely from his back. The man wore an Arizona Diamondbacks ball cap and was clutching at the open air as Mitch approached. “Undercover DEA—get me a fuckin’ medic.”

  Mitch examined the rest of the room for any threats then knelt down, removing a trauma kit from his backpack. As he applied a compression wrap to the writhing figure, he saw Nora hugging her brother as their sobs filled the tiny enclosure.

  He saw Nora silently nodding towards him, her glistening face widening with a smile as she wiped the tears from her cheeks. She yanked Steven by his arm, pointing to him. “I wouldn’t be standing here hugging you if it weren’t for Mitch Kearns—he found Amy and led us here.”

  Steven rushed forward, rubbing Mitch’s shoulder vigorously. “Mitch, I owe you a helluva thanks, old friend.” Then he looked back at Nora, pointing his finger back and forth between the two. “You and, uhm, Mitch—how are you two standing in the same room together?”