Hostile Borders (12 page)

“Almost thirteen miles as the crow flies,” Hausmann said.

“That's a heck of a long way to travel in any kind of ATV,” Manors said, “especially if you're traveling at night and trying to hide. That means no lights and a real familiarity with the area. There's also several roads they would have to cross between your ranch and the border. Roads mean fences on either side so cutting through them would make another obstacle to slow them up, plus it would make an obvious trail to anyone
just driving along the road. ATVs and dune buggies are pretty big, so there are relatively few places they could cross over with something that size. And they aren't big enough to do a drive-through.”

“A drive-through?” Reaper asked.

“Yeah, those used to happen all of the time,” Manors said. “They became pretty common after 9/11, that's when we lost a lot of agents transferring over to other agencies. In a typical drive-through, the Mexican drug cartels would run two to three vehicles right through the fence, just bust right through. We're talking new GM 2002 Suburbans, white ones with antennas on them. That way they would look like customs vehicles. Most of them were stolen from Phoenix and other places, so the expense wasn't too bad for the cartels.

“They would have their own scouts out, looking for us watching for them. I can tell you right now that they have their own sensors on our side of the border. I've been told that the cartels have hired Mexican Special Forces soldiers who have been trained in our military schools to go in and find our bugs and map them. Then they would put in their own sensors.

“When they're pushing hard drugs, cocaine and such, on a run, they would have as many as fifteen or twenty scouts along the highway. They had their own codes they would use on their cell phones to stay in touch.

“But the drivers of the vehicles weren't anything like the kind of people you're talking about. These guys were all kinds of hopped up on drugs, speed usually. They would drive right through our spike strips
along the road. But they usually can't cross the border both ways. A drive-through is a one-pass deal to bring drugs across.”

“So you don't think the guys we ran into came from Mexico?” Reaper said.

“I didn't say that,” Manors said. “But I do think they would have to have help on this side of the border to appear and disappear the way you said they did. It would have to be something a lot more organized than your usual coyote running a bunch of illegal migrant workers along the river.”

“So,” Hausmann said, “do you think you can help us follow those tracks we found?”

“I don't see why not,” Manors said. “It's not like I'm doing anything else right now. Seems that my CO and I have had a bit of a disagreement on the outcome of a certain case a short while back. Now I'm on administrative leave pending the results of a board of inquiry—something about charges of insubordination and whatnot. I'm still a Border Patrol agent, but that may change in the near future. Looks like I won't have a career or a pension to worry about for much longer, so I would be glad to help you.

“Besides,” Manors said as a nasty smile spread across his face, “it sounds like whoever is chasing you just may be a good lead to Langstrom's killers—those are some people I would surely like to meet under the right circumstances.”

Early that evening Reaper was sitting at the table in the dining room at the ranch, going over topographical maps of the area. He intended to be as familiar as he could be with the place before they went out that night. From where they were lying on the floor, the rottweilers suddenly alerted, both dogs sitting up and turning their heads in the direction of the gate. Getting up, both big black dogs silently trotted off to the pool room. Still lying on the floor, Jarhead lifted his massive head and cocked it, listening for something.

The sudden noise of the rotts' barking told Reaper that someone was at the gate. Before he could get up from where he was sitting, Hausmann was already on his way to quiet the dogs down and let the person in. A few minutes later, Hausmann came back into the main area of the house with Pat Manors walking along behind him. Poking their broad muzzles at the new arrival, both dogs' short stub tails wagging violently, the
rottweilers intended that Manors was going to give them their share of attention.

Dressed in a set of khaki pants and workshirt, Manors had his duty belt secured around his waist. On the belt was a Beretta 92-F 9mm pistol secured in a Bianchi Model 99A holster at his right side. On the left side of his belt, Manors had a double magazine pouch for the Beretta hanging behind a SureFire Z2 combat light slipped into a tactical holster.

Slung from his shoulder, Manors was carrying a 12-gauge Benelli M3 Super 90 pump/auto shotgun set up with a pistol-grip stock and ghost ring sights. The fore end of the shotgun was a SureFire 6V tactical weapon light with a built-in flashlight sticking forward underneath the barrel. On the left side of the shotgun's receiver was a Tac-Star sidesaddle shell holder with six black-cased rounds of ammunition slipped into the slots.

The white Stetson he had been wearing at the O.K. Cafe that afternoon was set firmly on his head. Shining on the breast of his shirt was the badge of a Border Patrol agent. Manors looked the picture of a modern Western police officer and Reaper figured that this was just the man's normal appearance.

“Looks like you're about ready to take on anything we could run into out there,” Reaper said.

“No need going out unprepared,” Manors said. “Those folks you ran into last night are probably long gone, but they may have some friends still hanging around.”

“We'll have to lock the dogs in tonight,” Hausmann said as he walked into the room behind Manors. “I don't
particularly want them following us on this trip. Besides, there's no way of telling how far we'll have to travel.”

“So we'll take the Prowlers?” Reaper said.

“Those buggies out in the yard?” Manors said. “That sounds good to me, depending on how far we have to go. They look open enough that you could spot sign from them easily enough.”

“These are small vehicles we're going to be following,” Reaper said as he got up from the table. “They should leave a trail obvious enough that we won't have to work too hard to follow it.”

“So you just asked me to the party for my pretty face,” Manors said with a grin. “Or could it be that you need a Border Patrol agent who can go onto private property to follow a trail and not get charged with trespassing?”

“Oh, I suppose it could be something like that,” Hausmann said.

“I kinda figured that,” Manors said. “Nice to know I'm wanted for a skill.”

It wasn't long before all of the banter was over and the men were heading south to follow the trail of the ambushers. Instead of taking both Prowlers, Reaper had decided on all three men going on one vehicle, Reaper doing the driving and Hausmann and Manors riding on the outside passenger seats. Reaper had his M4A1 secured in the carrying rack that fit horizontally in front of the driver's position. Both Manors and Hausmann had slung their long guns across their chests.

Before leaving, Reaper had passed out black TC2002 helmets that Diamondback Tactical had sent
along with the vehicles. The helmets were the side-cut models so the wearer's ears would be exposed and they wouldn't interfere with hearing. Since they were armored to level 3A ballistic protection, they would stop most handgun bullets and quite a few rifle projectiles. Manors reluctantly left his Stetson in the pickup he had driven into the ranch compound and slipped the helmet over his head.

With Reaper in the driver's seat, Hausmann was in the right-side rider seat, little more than a padded back rest and a flat space on the rear fender right over the back wheel. From his position on the side rider seat on the left side of the vehicle, Manors was able to closely examine the ground in front of the vehicle in the glare of the twin headlights.

Night had fallen and the moon was already up. Reaper had wondered if it wouldn't have been better to wait until the next day to try and follow the trail in the light. Manors said he could follow a trail well enough at night and didn't want to wait another day. When they came up to the ambush site, Manors called for a halt while he got out and took a close look at the ground and the tracks that Hausmann pointed out.

“These things were anything but new vehicles,” Manors said as he shone the light from his SureFire 6V light across the ground. By laying the beam from the light down and shining it across the surface of the ground, rather than pointing it straight down, the shadows cast inside of the tire tracks were starkly outlined. They were even more obvious than they would have been with the sun directly overhead.

“What do you mean?” Reaper asked as he bent down over the tracks.

“Drug runners use just about anything that suits their purpose,” Manors said. “But they tend to steal newer vehicles for their runs across the border. These tracks aren't like anything I've ever seen them use. The spacing of the wheels is too wide for any ATV that I know. And the scalloped edges of the tires look like something the military would use more than a civilian dune buggy.

“See these marks,” Manors said as he pointed to the tracks, “the treads are deep, but the tires that made them are notched and chipped in places. One tire has a big divot cut out of one tread that makes it as distinctive as a fingerprint. And all of these tracks are from worn tires, on what looks like two vehicles.”

“So you can follow them?” Hausmann asked.

“Heck, these are easy for right now,” Manors said. “As long as the buggies that made them stay on sand or gravel, we can follow them to the far end of South America.”

Getting back into the Prowler, the three men started to follow the trail of the two ATVs back along the high ground between the railroad tracks and the riverbank. Manors well demonstrated his skill at tracking, even from the side seat of the Prowler.

As they followed the trail, Manors would sometimes signal Reaper to stop. The Border Patrol agent would then get off the Prowler and crouch down on the ground, shining his SureFire light across the sand and gravel. The shadows and highlights of the tire marks told him what he wanted to know. Climbing back onto
the side seat of the Prowler, Manors would then point out the direction in which he wanted Reaper to drive.

The three men drove along slowly for about a half mile, weaving slightly across the top of the ridge but staying on the river side of the railroad tracks. The trail turned suddenly to the right and down the bank to the river. From where he was sitting, Reaper could plainly see the tracks of two wheeled vehicles sunk into the side of the riverbank.

Stopping the Prowler at the edge of the water, Reaper turned to the Border Patrol agent. But Manors wasn't looking at the same set of tire tracks Reaper was. Instead, he was looking closely at a second set of tracks only a few yards away down the riverbank.

Climbing out of the side seat, Manors went over to the second set of tracks and squatted down to look at them. Only the gurgle of the water flowing by and the croaking of frogs could be heard. Some of the bigger bullfrogs were loud enough to be heard hundreds of yards away. But none of that noise affected Manors as he looked at the trails. Knowing he would just get in the way of the skilled tracker, Reaper kept a 360-degree watch around the Prowler.

Getting off the vehicle, Hausmann stepped to the river's edge and squatted down to look at the flowing water. When Manors walked back to the Prowler, Hausmann got up and stood with him next to Reaper. Everyone spoke in very quiet voices, little more than whispers.

“There's a second set of tracks from those same two ATVs,” Manors said. “Only these two are going up the
bank from the river. This is where they crossed both coming and going.”

“Pretty poor opsec [operational security],” Reaper said.

“I don't think they had much of a choice,” Hausmann said. “The river is pretty low right now but there are still damned few places you can cross it with any kind of vehicle. Someone dumped a lot of rocks into the bed here to make a fording spot, just like I did up at my place.”

“So how deep is it?” Reaper asked.

“Looks like a foot or more,” Hausmann said. “Can this thing cross that?”

“She's fitted with the snorkeling attachment,” Reaper said. “We can cross water up to thirty inches deep without flooding out. No need to take a chance on what the bottom is like. I'll take her across and you guys follow on foot once I'm on the other side.”

“No,” Manors said. “It's better if I go across first and scout the trail. That way you won't tear up the trail if you land in the same spot as they did.”

“Go for it,” Reaper agreed.

Slipping into the water with his Benelli held up, Manors slowly walked across the river. With his M14 in his hands, Hausmann kept watch along the other bank, the bright moonlight making it fairly easy to see. At the controls of the Prowler, Reaper watched as the water crept up Manor's legs as he walked along the river bottom. At no time did the water go over Manor's knees, so Reaper knew he would have no trouble taking the vehicle across.

Once Manors was on the other side of the river, he
bent over to carefully examine the ground. The occasional gleam of the flashlight was all Reaper saw. Straightening up, Manors turned and waved to Reaper to bring the Prowler across. Slowly entering the water, the light rugged terrain vehicle easily crossed the river. The smooth banks on either side of the river made entering and exiting the water simple. The water flowing through the open sides of the driver's compartment drained away as Reaper took the Prowler up the opposite bank and stopped.

Hausmann then crossed the river with nothing more happening than his feet getting wet. Once they were all together again, Reaper leaned in close to Hausmann and whispered:

“Just where are we?”

“This is the edge of one of Valentine Dupree's places,” Hausmann said. “That's the snake lover I was telling you about. She has a barn and some buildings near here, but there's no one living on the place.”

“Sounds like the place to look,” Manors said.

While Manors and Hausmann walked up to the crest of the riverbank, Reaper carefully drove the Prowler up the incline. The bank wasn't so steep that he felt that the tough little vehicle would have any trouble with it, but you didn't take chances when you didn't have to.

Pulling up under some trees, Reaper parked the Prowler and pulled his M4A1 from the weapons rack. Moving over to where Hausmann and Manors were both kneeling at the edge of the tree line, Reaper approached them in a low crouch. His compact Carl Zeiss
7×30mm binoculars to his eyes, Hausmann was looking out across an open area to a cluster of buildings a few hundred feet away.

Just past the trees, about ten feet in front of where the men were kneeling, was a long fence. The line of four rows of barbed wire stopped at a wide gate and then continued on the other side to run on out of sight. Pointing, Manors indicated where the tire tracks they had been following went up to the gate, and continued on the other side.

“No movement, lights, or any sign that anyone's there,” Hausmann said as he handed the binoculars to Reaper.

Looking out across the field, Reaper could plainly see two long pole buildings with corrugated sheet metal roofs and open sides. There was a relatively small shed, about the size of a one-car garage, to the north of the pole buildings. A wide metal-sided barn with a concrete apron extending out ten feet past its wide door was just north of the smaller shed. The bulk of the big barn, which looked to be more than forty feet wide and a hundred feet long, dominated the area. More than a hundred feet farther to the west were parked three long semi trailers.

None of the windows that lined the side of the barn showed any lights. There wasn't a sound beyond that made by the water behind the men and the critters that lived along it. If there was anyone at the buildings, the only way the men would know for sure would be to go up and look for themselves. Which is exactly what Reaper intended to do.

“I want to see just what's in that barn,” Reaper whispered to the others. “You can stay here or go with me.”

“Didn't get all dressed up just to miss the party,” Hausmann said.

Reaper smiled at this. Both men were wearing exactly the same black 5.11 tactical pants and shirts, with a 5.11 tactical vest over the shirt to carry their equipment and ammunition. With the vests on, they had enough weapons and ammunition to feel comfortable and not look like a trio of commandos out on an assault—as long as they took off the black TC2002 side-cut helmets they had on.

“If those tracks are from illegals,” Manors said, “or even worse, narco-militarists, it's my duty to check it out.”

“Okay,” Reaper said. “I'll go to the gate and cross over, you two cover me. Then you follow on my signal. Hausmann, you keep cover with that rifle and come over last.”

With answering nods from the other two men, Reaper moved out in a crouch. He darted over to the steel-tube gate and knelt down to see just how it was secured. A heavy Ingersol lock looped through a length of welded steel chain held the gate shut. It was an expensive lock to just close off a ranch gate. And the shiny surface of the lock and the chain told Reaper that neither had been exposed to the elements for very long.