Texas Showdown (12 page)

He heard gasping, frenzied breathing, small cries. The sounds of passionate, even violent sex.

Parting the plastic slats of the office's Venetian blinds, Gadgets looked across the base street to his workshop. No one moved on the street. He raised the hand-radio he had purchased that afternoon, keyed the "transmit" button once, paused, then three times again quickly. It was their code for "Lyons, Gadgets calling." The hand-radio looked exactly like those issued to the sentries and platoon leaders. Gadgets had modified the three new radios to not only transmit and receive on the frequency of the mercenary radios, but also on a far-distant frequency for Able Team. Unless examined closely, the modification would not be detected. Gadgets repeated the click code.

"Holy Mother of..." Blancanales swore. Leaning over the office desk, he rewound the cassette for an instant, listened to a section again.

"They can't be brother and sister," Gadgets commented, watching the street.

"Who cares. You didn't understand any of this talk? Nothing?"

"They talked too fast for me."

"Here comes a translation," Blancanales told him He alternated between the cassette machine's Play and Pause button, translating: "...the old man can't make love like a man... what he makes her do is disgusting...

"Then El Rojo talks. Her sacrifice will soon be rewarded... the assassination of the President of Mexico by gringos will enrage the people of Mexico... there will be war, there will be rebellion in the barrios of the United States... the fascist gringos can't use their atomic weapons against their own cities, against a country so close to their own... in one stroke, we will create a People's Republic of Mexico and regain the territories stolen from our forefathers...

"There it is," Blancanales concluded. "Then they make it on the floor. These people are totally off the edge, no doubt about it."

"People's Republic of Mexico?" Gadgets marveled. "A commie takeover of Mexico triggered by Americans assassinating... Oh, man. Lyons, where are you?"

"What time does Grimaldi come down?"

Gadgets glanced at his watch. That afternoon, when he spoke long-distance to Grimaldi at Stony Man, he had arranged for the ace flier to HALO (high altitude low opening) in a parachute drop on the east side of the foothills overlooking the mercenary base. He would then hike over the hills to a position near the base and wait for a signal. He would bring rations and water for three days.

"He'll be dropping any minute now," Gadgets told Blancanales. "Might even be down already. Where's Lyons? Hey, there he is."

Slipping out the door, Gadgets whistled. Lyons jogged across the street. He followed Gadgets into the office.

"Why you over here?" he asked.

"I took this office for all my receivers," said Gadgets. "Can't have Furst walking in on this — or anybody else. Rosario, tell him what we got."

"Incest and international communism. Total mind blow." Blancanales went on to describe the taped conversation and sexual encounter.

Lyons laughed. "These people are unbelievable. But I believe it! If you ask me, I say it's time to shut this crazy camp down. We got El Rojo and his generals up there, Monroe's up there, Furst too. Any word from Grimaldi?"

"Soon," Gadgets answered. "But what about Pardee? Furst said he's the one who does the 'interrogation.' Pardee must've been the one who killed the two federals. We can't let him get away."

"Stopping the war's more important," Blancanales countered.

"The demonstration is tomorrow," Gadgets continued. "We could hijack that super-shooter Huey rocket ship, get them all at once."

They heard the throb of helicopters. The sound blasted over the base. Lyons grinned: "The gang's all here."

* * *

Leaning against the safety strap, Pardee saw the executive jet below him on the airstrip. He shouted into the intercom: "Pilot, don't land! Proceed to the Monroe estate. Buzz the field's radioman, connect me."

The Huey banked and left the airstrip behind. Through the intercom's headphones, Pardee heard the hiss of radio static.

"This is the airfield. Is there a problem, Captain Pardee?"

"That the Mexicans' jet I saw? On the strip?"

"Yes, sir. Came in an hour ago."

"Where's Furst?"

"Commander Furst met them. They all drove to Mr. Monroe's..."

"Pilot! Pilot..."

The radio clicked off. The pilot's voice returned. "Yes, sir."

"Put us down in front of the house. Direct the other pilot to land downhill, between this copter and the security gate. And connect me to Ralston, the platoon leader in the other copter, now!"

"Yes, sir." The channel switched. "Ralston here, captain."

"We got a security problem at the Monroe estate. Listen to me. Soon as we touch down, put your men out in a half circle downhill of the Hueys. No one fires unless we're fired on. But if anyone shoots at us, waste them. Sentries, strangers, our soldiers, anyone — waste them. You heard me?"

"What's going on?"

"You don't need to know. Do as I told you. Over and out."

The helicopter approached the lights crowning the mountaintop. Pardee shouted instructions to soldiers around him. They nodded their understanding as they checked their rifles.

Leaves and torn flowers flew as the skids scraped the asphalt. "Shut off the engines," Pardee commanded into the intercom. He took a last glance to confirm the deployment of the soldiers from the other helicopter, then snapped himself free of his safety strap and dropped to the paving.

Furst strode from the entry with a cocktail glass in his hand. Several other men crowded from the door, Lopez in his Savile Row men's fashions and three Mexicans in dress uniforms resplendent with rows of medals and satin sashes. The tallest of the three generals, El Rojo, stood with his arm around his beautiful sister, Availa Monroe.

"What do you think you are doing, Pardee?" Furst demanded.

Driving a karate front-kick into the handsome man's gut, Pardee sent Furst flying back. He went to one knee on the choking, gagging man's chest, took the .45 from Furst's holster, slipped it into the thigh pocket of his fatigues, then pulled his bayonet. He saw the Mexicans hurrying to Furst's aid. Pardee put the bayonet to Furst's throat.

"Back up! This man betrayed us. Tell them, playboy. Tell them about the deal with the Feds."

"I didn't..."

"You're lying! I saw the photos. All three of them, they're an elite anti-gang squad. Tell us about the deal with the Feds."

Furst gasped for breath, then screamed into Pardee's face. "I'll have you shot!"

Bending down and grabbing Furst by his styled hair, Pardee cut off his left ear. Furst screamed and wailed, thrashing under the huge man's knee. Pardee jerked Furst by the hair and slammed the back of his head into the asphalt, stunning him. He put the point of the razor-sharp bayonet to the bloody man's eye.

"You want to live, pretty boy? Tell us about the Feds! Tell us why you betrayed your soldiers!"

Sobbing like a beaten child, Furst confessed. "This is all insane, we're working for an insane old man. The Feds have already got us. For murder. For conspiracy. For..."

Grinning at the man's suffering, Pardee grabbed Furst again, this time by the throat, and lifted him from the ground. He held him at arm's length as he turned to the soldiers.

"You heard!" Pardee roared. "He's working with the FBI. He betrayed Mt. Monroe and all of you soldiers. This is a court-martial and I condemn this informer to death!"

Pardee jammed the bayonet into the struggling Furst's groin, ripped up, simultaneously emasculating him and gutting him in one long slash like he was a fish.

He dropped the dying man and watched him thrash and contort in his blood, in his spilled intestines.

Pardee wiped the bayonet on Furst's uniform and slipped it back into its sheath. Then he pulled out his .45 automatic.

"One last thing, playboy. You ain't gonna be a pretty boy in hell."

Pardee fired three times into the dying man's face.

* * *

In the dark office, they heard Pardee issue his first commands as Commander of the Texas Irregulars. "Secure the gates! No one comes or goes. Watch for Luther Schwarz, Pete Marchardo, Carl Morgan. They're federal agents. Take them alive! Pilots, start those engines. We'll be returning to the base in two minutes..."

Other voices continued, but Pardee's faded as he left the immediate area near the transmitters concealed on Furst's corpse.

Gadgets spoke into his modified hand-radio. "Can you see the camp, G-Force?"

Jack Grimaldi's voice came from the tiny speaker. "Yeah, I'm about a mile away. Hey, what's going on? About a hundred lights just came on. It's bright as day down there."

"No waiting tonight. You got here just in time."

"So what gives?"

Lyons activated his hand-radio. "Make it to the road, sir. Don't show yourself until we signal you. Move fast, situation red."

"That's what I came for. Over."

Lyons looked to Gadgets and Blancanales. "Anyone got a plan? "

"Time to get out of here," Gadgets said solemnly.

"Second the motion," Blancanales added.

"Motion carried," Lyons agreed. "Let's go get us some transportation. And equalizers."

* * *

"These false alarms have got to stop," the driver griped, revving the truck's engine. He leaned out the window to look for his helper. "Hey! Where are you?"

An arm closed around his neck. An elbow hammered into the side of his head once, twice. It smashed him into unconsciousness. Lyons opened the cab's door and dragged the driver out. He dropped the man next to his unconscious assistant. Blancanales jumped into the cab, took the wheel, continued revving the cold engine.

Lyons went to the utility compartments on the side of the truck and searched through the tools. There was the metallic rattle of chains. "All right!" He ran to the other side of the cab, took the passenger seat. "Full speed ahead."

Low-gearing through the base streets, they wove among groggy soldiers assembling outside the barracks. Blancanales and Lyons kept their faces turned away. They left the barracks and base offices behind, raced the last hundred yards to the one concrete building on the base.

Gadgets found a fist-sized rock and heaved it at the mercury-arc lamp that lit the entrance to the camp armory. The lamp shattered, sputtered for an instant, then the building went dark. The truck wheeled in a half-circle, backed up to the door.

Looping the heavy tow-chain around the bumper, Lyons dragged the chain to the door. One-inch-thick padlocked crossbolts secured the armory door to the steel door frame. A third lock switched the alarm on and off. Lyons passed the chain behind the heavy crossbolts, knotted the chain, then secured it to itself with the end hook.

"The alarm off?"

"No way, it's internal, and I can't get through the lock in less than an hour's..."

"Forget it. Turn it off when the door's open." Lyons sprinted to the side of the truck's cab, slapped the door. "Go!"

Blancanales gunned the engine and popped the clutch. The truck shot forward, lurched as the door tore free of the frame. A siren screamed.

Rushing in, Gadgets banged the light switches on, saw the wires leading from the door frame. He jammed his bayonet into the wires and tore them from the wall. The siren died. Lyons ran past him and threw a double flying kick against the storeroom door, smashing it open. He scrambled to his feet. He searched through the racks of weapons and ammunition.

Grabbing three M-203s — hybrid M-16s fitted with single-shot 40mm grenade launchers — he passed them to Gadgets. He looped bandoleers of ammunition over his shoulders. He found a case of 40mm high-explosive grenades. He also spotted a case of 40mm CN grenades and dragged them out. Gadgets returned to pick up the heavier grenade case. Lyons stopped for one more weapon: the M-14 mounted with the Starlite scope. He took the rifle and the bandoleer of .308 mags that he had loaded himself several nights before. He tried to run with the weight of the rifle and ammunition, but couldn't.

Auto-fire ripped the night. Gadgets rolled through the door, firing a burst with a silenced MAC-10 as he did so. The noise of the .45-caliber slugs ripping through the air sounded louder than the muzzle blast.

Tape on the side of the machine-pistol read "Sgt. C. Pardee."

Crouching in the doorway, Lyons felt concrete chips falling on him as 5.56mm slugs hit the armory. He shouted to Gadgets: "Cover me to the truck, then you got fifteen seconds to wire this toyshop. Make a big bang! Now!"

Slugs zipped past Lyons as he jogged for the tailgate of the truck. He rolled into the back, even as he heard slugs smashing into the truck. Then he heard the metallic report of a grenade launcher from the front of the vehicle. An explosion blasted a sheet steel building a hundred yards away.

Switching on the Starlite's power, Lyons slapped in a magazine and pointed the rifle at the shadows. The scope's electronics revealed a man's head and shoulder behind a barrel. Lyons shot him in the face. A muzzle flash betrayed another soldier. Lyons waited an instant. The soldier exposed himself as he aimed to fire again. Another head shot. A second grenade blast ripped the area. There was no more shooting.

Gadgets sprinted from the armory. "Fireworks in sixty seconds!"

"In back!" Lyons told him. As the truck started, Lyons crouched to the front of the truck canopy. He then smashed the glass out of the cab's back window. "Move it, Mr. Blancanales. Make it through that gate."

"Forget the gate!" Blancanales shouted back. Slugs ripped through the canopy's canvas and punched into the sheet metal cab. "Put out some firepower, passengers."

Lyons found the already open case of 40mm HE grenades, jammed one in an M-203. He fired wild, reloaded, fired again. He broke open the case of 40mm CN grenades. The truck swerved, throwing him on his shoulder.

Gadgets sent a blast of .45 caliber slugs through two mercenaries. The MAC-10 clicked empty. He switched magazines, but then slung the small weapon over his shoulder and grabbed an M-203, loading it with a grenade. He passed the weapon to Lyons: "Teamwork time. Just shoot."

Lyons snapped grenades in all directions as Gadgets loaded. Explosions and CN gas sent soldiers diving for cover, staggering blind and vomiting. Lyons slapped in twenty-round mags of 5.56mm, sprayed the buildings, grabbed another reloaded weapon from Gadgets, fired another grenade.