Hostile Borders (24 page)

Weapons and equipment had been strapped to the front and rear decks of both Prowlers. The weapons carrier with Mackenzie, Warrick, and Column was going to be pretty heavily loaded since it also carried the
Mark 19, tripod, mount, and Warrick's rifles. So all but one of the heavy ammunition cans went on Manors's vehicle. The last belt of 40mm grenades and its can went with the gun to ensure that there was at least some ammunition always with it on the same vehicle.

The explosives and packs that Reaper and Hausmann would take with them were on the truck with the armed Prowler. Column would ride with them to the dropoff point near the Heart Ranch. For this insertion, Reaper and Hausmann would have to walk the whole way to the Blue Star mine. Remembering the incident in the barn, Reaper was hoping that the heat of the afternoon would keep the reptiles in the sanctuary under their rocks and in their dens.

Everyone had abandoned the flight suits that came with the operators kits and were wearing 5.11 khaki tactical shirts and trousers. If they were stopped by law enforcement, the khakis would look a lot more normal than sage flight suits. That might be enough to get them past a sheriff's deputy without him asking to look under the tarps covering the beds of the pickups. The Prowlers and all of the gear would be a little difficult to explain.

Finally, every magazine was loaded and slipped in a pouch, every piece of gear checked and rechecked. Warrick had tested the zero on all of his rifles before packing them for the insertion. The TTR-700 was so quiet it was hard to notice when he fired it. The Chandler M40A3 was a loud enough normal rifle. But the muzzle blast from the Barrett .50-caliber rifle was massive.

Warrick only fired three rounds to check the weapon, but the echoes of the shots rang out down the riverbed and across the desert. For each blast, the triangular muzzle break threw part of the propellant gases back and to the side. Anyone standing next to Warrick would have found themselves hit by the wave of sound and gas, as if they were slapped on the whole front of their body by a big wet towel. The noise drowned out the sound of the nearly six-inch-long spent cartridges flying out of the ejection port and bouncing on the gravel. The dogs jumped up and barked their disapproval with each roar of the powerful Barrett.

For his weapons, Reaper was armed with a much smaller and quieter selection than Warrick was using. He had his M4A1 and customized Springfield Armory M1911A1. Inside his shirt he had the suppressed Glock 26 with the Gemtech Aurora suppressor. Over the 5.11 tactical shirt, Reaper had on the Predator tactical-level 3A armored vest. The vest was covered with the ammunition and gear pouches he had attached to the MOLLE (modular lightweight load-carrying equipment) attachment points that lined the outside surface of the Predator.

The vest would stop most submachine gun and handgun projectiles. To increase the armor level to stop rifle-caliber bullets, Reaper inserted the Cercom-enhanced ballistic plate that came with the kit. Now at least his chest was protected from hits by 7.62 and 5.56mm ball rounds.

The four magazine pouches were filled with three thirty-round magazines each for his M4A1. The
twenty-eight rounds in each magazine plus the one in the weapon gave him 364 rounds for the carbine. Three magazines for the M1911A1 gave him an additional twenty-four rounds of firepower. The pistol was in a Safariland tactical holster strapped to his thigh. One of the M183 demolition kits along with the AN/VDR-2 radiac instrument went into the three-day assault pack on his back. The additional rappelling gear went in the same bag except for the harness that Reaper strapped around his waist. Other gear was secured in pouches and pockets on his vest and in his pants.

The rest of the men outfitted themselves in much the same way as Reaper had. Hausmann was carrying his MP5A3 with a dozen thirty-round magazines in his pouches and his Gemtech Raptor in a pouch if he needed it later. Manors had laid aside his Benelli shotgun for one of the M4/M203A1 carbines that Mackenzie and Warrick had brought with them. Mackenzie was using the other M4/M203 combination. Column decided against carrying a shoulder weapon. Instead, he would use the M240B 7.62mm machine gun or the Mark 19 grenade launcher as his main weapon.

The last weapon to go in the back of the pickup was Hausmann's M8 flamethrower. The rest of the guys were impressed when he told them just what it was, and what it could do. None of them could think of a more horrible weapon to face in combat.

With their weapons secured in the backs of the trucks, the men climbed into the cabs. The only special preparation that had been done by any of them for a worst-case scenario was that Hausmann had contacted
a friend of his to come and take care of his dogs and livestock if anything happened to him. Reaper and his men had made their final arrangements a long time before. Since Manors was an active law-enforcement officer, he faced the possibility of not going home every day.

For his final instructions, Column's were the simplest of all. He had no one to leave anything to, so the instructions he had standing in place were to give a hell of a party at the best of his clubs in order to send him on his way.

Both trucks left the Dogbone Ranch and headed south together. The drive to the dropoff point was quiet. Each man rode in the crowded cabs of the two trucks keeping council with his own thoughts. The pickup with Mackenzie, Warrick, and Column on board pulled over to the side of the road and parked in a grove of trees. The truck was well concealed from any curious eyes that might pass on the road. With the other pickup safely hidden, Manors drove Reaper and Hausmann to their insertion point.

Instead of going in along the same road they had already used twice, Reaper had chosen a smaller, unpaved road that ran along the eastern border of the reptile sanctuary. The same stream that they had followed before crossed under the road they were on. Pulling off the road, Manors had no trouble driving the four-wheel-drive truck along the almost-dry streambed. Finally, he came to a bend in the stream that
Reaper pointed out; he had marked the spot on the overlay he had done for the satellite map.

“This is the spot,” Reaper said, “drop us off here and turn the truck around. We won't go on until we're sure you can head back.”

“Okay,” Manors said. There wasn't very much more to say at that point.

Taking their packs and tactical bags from the bed of the pickup, Reaper and Hausmann geared up while Manors turned the truck around. It took a little maneuvering, but he soon had the truck pointed back in the direction they had come from. For the trip in, Manors had kept the truck in two-wheel drive. If he got stuck, then he could switch into four-wheel to get himself out.

The truck now had the best chance of getting back to the other men. For Reaper and Hausmann, this meant a great deal as the Prowlers on the truck were there as planned fire support and backup. If things completely went to hell, the Prowlers would be able to carry Reaper and Hausmann back to the border along with everyone else. It would be a rough ride, but a whole lot better than walking.

“Okay,” Reaper said to Manors, “it's 1315 hours. You've got ninety minutes to get into position on the ridge line overlooking the hacienda. We're going to be in place at the mouth of the Crystal mine by 1445 hours and contact you by radio. If you don't hear from us by 1530 hours, you're free to move in on your own.”

“Okay,” Manors said, “good luck to you.”

Snapping his M4A1 to the Chalker attachment point on his Predator vest, Reaper turned to start up the hill
side to the fence line. Hausmann slipped the shoulder strap of the flamethrower over his head and across his shoulder. His MP5A3 was already attached to the shackle of his Chalker attachment and hung down from his chest. He moved out after Reaper. Sitting in the truck, Manors watched them climb up the hill and out of sight before he drove off.

The hot sun beat down on both men as they climbed up to the fence line around the sanctuary. Pulling out his SwissTool, Reaper unfolded it and cut through the wires of the fence while Hausmann stood watch. They were the only thing moving within sight. The spotless sky showed only the brilliant disk of the sun and nothing else. Not even a buzzard flew high overhead.

That was a good sign, or at least not a bad omen as far as Reaper was concerned. Now that they were both finally on the move, neither man had anything to say to the other as they went past the fence and headed up along the ridge line.

Using one of the scattered concentrations of creosote bushes for cover, Reaper slipped up to the edge of the ridge line and looked down toward the entrance to the Blue Star mine. Pulling out the binoculars he had borrowed from Hausmann back at the ranch, Reaper focused in on the area around the mine. No movement met his eyes. The place looked just as it had when he was there only twenty-four hours ago.

The headset of the Liberator special forces communications system Reaper had over his ears did not interfere with his hearing at all. Except for a slightly muffled tone to the sound, Reaper could hear every
thing there was around him through the electronics in the headset. As Hausmann crawled up alongside him, Reaper could hear the other man's breathing as he lay there and watched the front of the mine. Wordlessly, Reaper handed him the binoculars. As Hausmann examined the mine, Reaper looked out across the area below the ridge.

There was nothing to be seen. It was as if they were approaching a ghost town. Reaper knew well enough that it was when things looked the safest that you could get into real trouble. So he never let his guard down. But the clock was running and they could only hold their position and look for a short time. Tapping Hausmann on the shoulder, Reaper pointed to the mine.

“We're going to cross the ridge just a little ways up from here,” he said in a soft tone. It didn't matter that no one was in sight or hearing. The habits of decades of special-operations experience did not go away for a single mission.

“We can cross down to the mine under pretty good cover over there,” Reaper pointed. “I'll take point.”

Nodding his understanding, Hausmann handed Reaper back the binoculars and slipped over to the other side of the ridge, away from sight of the mine.

The men moved in a low crouch, their weapons in their hands, as they moved across the back side of the ridge. When Reaper headed up to the top of the ridge, Hausmann closed in behind him. They walked in single file, crouching and finally crawling the last distance up to the ridge.

Once Reaper cleared the top of the ridge, he got
back up into a crouch. As Hausmann took up a kneeling position next to Reaper, he tapped the other man on the leg. Feeling Hausmann's ready signal, Reaper headed down across the ridge, moving low and fast with his M4A1 held at the ready in both hands.

Once he had gone about a hundred feet, Reaper stopped and took up a kneeling position. Waving his nonfiring hand in a forward motion, Reaper signaled Hausmann that it was his turn to move ahead. While Reaper held watch, Hausmann moved up to him and passed him, heading down toward the mine. About halfway between Reaper and the mine, Hausmann stopped and crouched down to cover Reaper's advance.

At Hausmann's wave, Reaper moved up and forward on the last jump of their leapfrog movement. He reached the dry old wood of the shack around the entrance of the mine, and knelt down with his weapon up and ready. Once more, Reaper stayed silent and still, listening for the sound that would tell him they had been discovered. The time stretched out as the long seconds passed slowly.

Reaper was by far the more experienced of the two men. For Hausmann, just kneeling there and watching Reaper stand still was more than hard, it was torture. When you were moving, it was easy to just think about the task at hand. Waiting drew the time out and you had to be careful not to let your mind wander and think about the things that could happen. That's how you got scared, thinking about what could happen. Watching Reaper was like seeing a predator, a great hunting
wolf, moving in on its prey. For a moment, Hausmann felt like a small dog that had attached itself to the wrong pack. He almost had to physically shake his head to drive out the odd thoughts and feelings.

At the wordless count of sixty, Reaper signaled Hausmann to come up to the wall. The time had seemed an eternity to the man who had been kneeling on the side of the ridge, feeling exposed and alone while Reaper listened and watched. When Hausmann was once more at his side and squeezed his shoulder, Reaper went forward to the old door he had slipped through the day before.

The doorway looked to be undisturbed from when he had left it. Reaper could see the slender dry twig was in place. He had left the indicator leaning against the low door when he had come back through it the day before. Since it was still leaning up against the gray wood, Reaper could be fairly certain that the door had been undisturbed since he had last been here. The lock hasp was in place, but Reaper knew that the nails that had held it were in the brush behind him. It was an easy, and silent, matter to open the door and wave Hausmann through.

Then Reaper bent over and scuttled through the door. It was an uncomfortable but quiet way to gain access to the interior of the mine. Still secured across the front of the mine was the tall steel gate and impressive lock and chain.

Inside the Blue Star mine only Reaper had any knowledge of what they would see ahead of them. Walking silently next to Reaper, Hausmann looked
into the beds of the Gator vehicles when Reaper pointed to them. Not a word was spoken as Hausmann looked at the black stains against the green paint.

As they approached the elevator shaft, Reaper pulled out his flashlight and pushed the back button. The brilliant beam illuminated the entire area around them. The white beam was shining on the elevator shaft, but the side light was more than enough to see the cable system going up over the pulleys at the top of the shaft and over to the winch at the side. Leaning out over the deep shaft, Hausmann could see the iron staples that made up the ladder driven into the rock.

Slipping his light back into his pocket, Reaper let the dazzle leave his eyes before going over to the ladder. Stepping out into the shaft, he slipped over the side and disappeared. Hausmann quickly followed.

The hundreds of steps took them deep down into the earth. Astonished to see that the shaft was actually growing lighter rather than darker, Hausmann looked down. As Reaper had been the day before, Hausmann was still surprised to see the lights, even though Reaper had told him about them. The mine took on an otherworldly appearance as they kept moving down into the light, past the rock walls and the interminable iron steps.

“Something else, isn't it,” Reaper whispered as they both stood at the bottom of the ladder.

“Even though you described it,” Hausmann said, “it's still incredible to actually see it for yourself.”

“I know,” Reaper said. “Come on, it gets even more amazing further on.”

The two men moved quickly but cautiously down the tunnel. Knowing better than to question the other man's experience, Hausmann just followed Reaper's pace. Going at almost a jog, Reaper wanted to get out of the tunnel as soon as they could. In spite of not expecting anyone to come along from the southern end of the tunnel, Reaper still hated the trapped feeling the rock walls gave him.

When the tunnel moved downward to meet the cave, Reaper slowed to a walk. As they passed into the huge open area far underground, Reaper just stood on the trestle for a moment as Hausmann looked about them.

Hausmann thought the cave was as incredible as Reaper had. The natural beauty and majesty of the place filled him with awe. The lights along the tracks shone out across the vast area and reflected from a thousand points of crystal or water. Then, the faint stench of decay reached Hausmann's nose.

As they went forward, the stench grew stronger. Finally, Reaper stopped and pointed. The yawning black opening of the pit was just a short distance away. As Hausmann subconsciously started to walk toward the pit, Reaper reached out a hand.

Normally, Reaper never interfered with another partner's experience. It was up to each man to learn what he could about the world around him. That was something Reaper fully believed. But the sight of those bodies was something Reaper would see to his last day. It wasn't necessary that Hausmann also view that vision of hell.

“Don't,” Reaper said softly.

Looking at his friend, Hausmann thought he knew the favor he was doing him. Nodding, he turned and the two men once again moved out across the cave floor. Under the hanging stalactites and around the growing cones of the stalagmites, they jogged along the route of the underground, very underground, railway.

 

After dropping Reaper and Hausmann off at their insertion site, Manors carefully drove back along the track he had made coming in. The trio waiting at the other truck had a map overlay on which Manors had marked the likely border crossing points. That map could get the guys into Mexico, but it would be a whole lot better if he took them across. And he couldn't do that if he got stuck or had a flat tire.

If the two Prowlers didn't get across the border and set up their fire support, Reaper and Hausmann would have to rely on the limited backup plan. The very least the two men could do would be to blow the mine entrance, denying its use to the drug cartels and the terrorists. At the same time, they would destroy the munitions and weapons stored there.

Nailing the drug cartel was of great appeal to Manors personally. He had been fighting the drug and people smugglers across the border for years. Taking out a powerful drug cartel and disrupting their operations was an accomplishment, one he wanted to be able to say he had a hand in. Of course if they broke up a terrorist operation at the same time, that would be icing
on the cake even if it would probably classify things so much that he couldn't talk about them.

When Manors drove up in his truck, Mackenzie, Warrick, and Column all breathed an unconscious sigh of relief. The mission was a go and their teammates were on their way. Pulling his truck up to the side of the other, Manors leaned out his open window.

“Okay,” Manors said. “Now it's our turn, follow me.”

Having been standing by the open passenger door of the pickup, Warrick climbed back into the cab. There was more room in the cab of Manors's truck, so Column trotted over and climbed in with him.

The two Prowlers and piles of equipment in the back of the trucks made big mounds under the secured tarps. But none of the few drivers they passed on the road paid them the least amount of attention. Turning off of State Route 92 near Palominas, Manors started down some dirt roads that finally turned into little more than twin ruts in the gravel. They were about three miles from the Heart Ranch area when they started approaching a dry streambed that Manors was familiar with.

It was one of the crossing points Manors knew of closest to where Reapers and Hausmann had inserted. At that time of day, there shouldn't be any Border Patrol agents watching the area—if the schedule hadn't changed. He knew the men who normally patrolled the area and they didn't like it as a spot for daytime crossings. At night, things would be a different story. But Manors expected to be back long before that time
came. And if he wasn't back by then, then he probably wouldn't be in a position to care one way or another.