The Last Operation (The Remnants of War Series, Book 1) (12 page)

* * *

Matt put down the Remington and placed one of the Olive Drab tubes in firing position. She looked down the bar sights, compensated for elevation and temperature and pulled the trigger of the LAW, Light Antitank Weapon.

This was not a normal LAW round. It had been modified. The armor piercing elements had been removed and the warhead contained an amplified load of high explosive. The guards at the second gate had a split second impression of a fiery red line, moving at a speed their eyes could not comprehend. The rocket impacted just a few feet forward of the hinged track. The explosion pulverized the gate, sending thousands of shards of steel and pellets of ferro-cement, riding a wave of superheated gas, blasting and disintegrating anything in its way within a diameter of fifty feet. The guards died instantly, their bodies shredded into tiny pieces of bloody flesh and crushed bones.

* * *

Hector Durand was incredulous. The powerful gate he had designed to stop any vehicle had vanished in a sudden, astounding explosion. His fists clenched as he saw the Durango blast through the cloud of dust, debris and splattering of blood that was all that remained of the gate. He slammed his fist against the dash, feeling the pain.

"I will pursue them to the end of the world," he screamed, his voice losing its humanity in the wave of hatred that poured out of him like a plague of filthy black insects. Spittle flew out of his mouth as he cursed and screamed at the driver. Behind him three more vehicles followed, loaded with his men. The
maricones
would never make it out of Mexico alive, never.

* * *

Matt had one last target. She took a second LAW and began tracking, adjusting simultaneously for speed and distance. It was one of the most difficult shots, but then she had been at the very top of her class at Marine Sniper School in Quantico. The LAW felt like an extension of her own body. She had the
feel
of the rocket as it leapt from the firing tube. She knew in that instant how it would hit.

* * *

Hector Durand glanced out the passenger window to his right. By the time the image traveled along his optic nerve to the brain, before his eyelid could finish its nervous blink, the LAW projectile blasted through the glass window and Hector Durand's head. The explosion shredded the Hummer. It leapt in the air like a rocket taking flight in a huge fireball. The vehicles following stopped as pieces of wreckage rained down on them from the sky.

* * *

Matt stood up in the darkness and removed her Ghilie suit. She stripped down to shorts and top and New Balance running shoes. She left her weapons, carrying only a light target pistol as she began jogging in the opposite direction. She ran for about twenty minutes until she came to the BMX Honda 350 off road motorcycle concealed in an arroyo. She started the bike and headed toward the rendezvous point.

* * *

Richard Daniels saw the glow that was the remains of the still burning Hummer, in his rear view mirror. A few miles further up the road, a set of headlights appeared behind them and flashed the predetermined code.

Rollie bringing up the rear—it all should go well now. But Daniels felt a tug, a pull that he recognized as the disquieting specter of his edge. He couldn't put it into words, or figure it out exactly, but something wasn't right.

Chapter 16

They drove to the North Road and the dump. Splitting up into two groups, Daniels, Carlos and Rollie drove two vehicles, the Durango and the Land Rover. Rhineman, Oscar and LeCount used the Jeep Wagonneer to rendezvous North with Matt Kelly. From there they would pick up the Vietnam Era vintage Huey helicopter that had been converted to civilian use and rented by Rollie and Matt, supposedly for a tourist sightseeing business. Daniels, Carlos and Rollie would head south to a high elevation overlooking the compound to keep it under observation while they extracted. They would be picked up by the Huey for the flight back to Tampico where Daniels seaplane awaited to return them to the US.

They laid Oscar down in the back of the Wagoneer as Rhineman drove. The road turned into a dusty trail leading to the backcountry, a series of arroyos, canyons and plains, arid, uninhabited land. Two hours later they arrived at an outcropping of rocks. A camouflage net had been strung between boulders and covered the thirty years old, HU-1, Huey helicopter. The net was strung with clay and vegetation, invisible until you were right on top of it.

Rhineman removed the camouflage net. The Huey was painted a touristy red and yellow. The paint was dull and cracked in spots, revealing the original military Olive Drab underneath.

Pinpoints of light danced in the night as Matt approached on the BMX, the engine whining like a chainsaw. She stopped by the lantern they'd set up near where Oscar lay. Rhineman stepped up and gave her a high five.

"Nice shooting. You learn that in the Corp?"

"No, the Godamned Girl Scouts," she grinned and walked to Oscar.

She kneeled and looked him over, pulling back the makeshift bandage they had applied to his leg.

"Christ, don't any of you geniuses know any first aid?"

She pulled the first aid kit out of the Wagoneer and started working on Oscar. She injected him with antibiotic and administered a sedative then cleaned the wound best as she could and applied a local anesthetic. Finally she bound the leg in a straight position and immobilized it with a plastic and Velcro cast. Oscar was asleep when they loaded him in the helicopter, secured in a corner of the wide passenger compartment. With Matt at the controls, they took off exactly twenty minutes before dawn.

* * *

Richard Daniels led the way in the Durango, Rollie followed in the Land Rover. They drove at high speed in total darkness using infrared lights secured to the roofs of the vehicle. Daniels and Rollie wore night goggles with attached power packs and radios. They looked like alien bugs with mechanical heads. Anyone looking their way would only see the total darkness of a cloudy night. Through the goggles, the landscape was a brilliant shade of light green, every detail outlined and clear. To Carlos in the passenger seat of the Durango, it seemed as if the vehicle was pitching along full speed in total darkness.

"Hey,
pandejo
, slow down man, you going too fast. You sure you can see with that shit on your head. I ain't like, suicidal, you know."

Daniels grinned under the infrared helmet.

"I can see a little bit. Just don't shit in your pants or I'm going to have to throw your nasty Mexican ass out of here."

Carlos closed his eyes and went back to his prayers. This terror filled high speed ride in the dark was not quite as bad as that moment when it appeared they were caught between the guard posts and Hector Durand and his men. Not quite as bad, but a close second.

They reached the extraction zone one hour later. The area had been perfectly chosen. It was the highest spot of a low plateau that overlooked the flat area where the Durand compound was located. They could see it in a blaze of lights, miles below them.

Daniels observed the compound for long moments with powerful Zweig binoculars. The wreckage of the vehicle destroyed by Matt's rocket smoldered, blocking the road. It would be most of the day before the wreck would cool sufficiently to allow removal. Daniels peered through the binoculars but saw little activity. He handed the glasses to Rollie.

"Doesn't look like they're doing much of anything," said Daniels.

"Probably still in shock."

Carlos took his turn looking through the glasses.

"You just about cut their balls off. El Toro, Rat, Aquilino, Hector Durand, those were the big guns. They're all dead now, Diego can't cut it by himself. Somebody strong going to have to step in, but right now, you gotta pick up my family, my mother and sister. That was part of the deal."

"I don't renege," said Daniels, "The chopper picks us up at first light, we land behind the Cantina and you got five minutes to get them on board. Leave everything behind. That was the deal. Nothing changed."

Carlos would have been at a loss to explain why he trusted the big American. Maybe it was because Rosa accepted him immediately. His sister seemed to have an instinct, a subconscious window into people's characters. Or maybe it was just the way the American carried himself with swift and sure confidence. Whatever it was, Carlos felt secure that Daniels would come through.

It was right on time, first light, when Daniels heard the
whomp-whomp
of the heavy helicopter blades beating the early morning still air. He raised the binoculars and spotted the Huey, just an approaching dot over the horizon. He scanned the surrounding canyons and hills. Suddenly he spotted some movement by a shallow natural ditch. Two coyotes trotting for an early morning hunt.

He was about to put the binocular down when the shape caught his attention. He focused on it. The early morning had gotten bright enough that he could just make it out. It looked familiar, yet out of place. His mind struggled, trying to make sense when the shape moved ever so slightly, revealing the man beneath it. Now he knew exactly what it was. He flung the binoculars on the hood of the Durango and ran to the Wagoneer parked a few feet away.

"Hell's going on?" said Rollie, awakening and grabbing the M-16 he'd slept with.

Daniels didn't reply. He yanked open the rear door of the Wagoneer and pulled out the Winchester 30-30 case. In seconds he assembled the rifle, installed the scope and loaded a magazine of Magnum high velocity rounds. He ran back to the Durango and got into a shooting stance using the hood of the truck. Elbow locked, holding the forward part of the rifle, the rest of his body leaning against the truck, steady as the surrounding boulders, Richard Daniels sighted into the scope.

There it was, no mistaking it: The heavy black circular rectangle resting on the man's shoulder with scope atop and the long barrel extruding. Daniels estimated the range at about 300 yards. Damn, he could use a laser range finder and a real sniper rifle. The Winchester had the range with the Magnum loads, but it was never meant for this kind of accurate shot. Still, he could put enough fire in that little gully to keep the man's head down, prevent him from shooting.

"What's happening
pandejo
, what you see?" said Carlos, squinting down where Daniels was aiming the Winchester.

Daniels didn't reply.

* * *

Matt held the Huey steady in spite of the vibrations. The old machine had not been very well maintained. Something was out of balance causing the frame to vibrate and there was a steady burning smell where oil probably leaked somewhere onto a heated surface, at least she hoped it was nothing worse. She'd done several checks and test flight of the Huey and in spite of the problems she knew the machine would get them where they had to go. These old Hueys were practically indestructible. All the gauge readings were as they should be. Matt was more worried about getting Oscar to decent medical assistance in the States. She knew the leg was infected and he had suffered heavy blood loss.

Far off she could see Daniel and Rollie's vehicles, tiny as little bugs on the sloped hillside. She maintained the course heading as she began to drop altitude.

* * *

Daniels elevated the crosshair to compensate for the distance. He would rather have the shot go a little high so it would hit the gully wall above the man's head—long as he could stop the man from raising his head and firing the weapon. Daniels mind raced with the implications. How could they know to be exactly in that place at that time? He brought his breathing to a calm state and began slowly squeezing the trigger.

* * *

In the gully three hundred yards from Daniels and at a slightly lower elevation, the man had the weapon mounted on his shoulder and the scope aimed at the approaching helicopter. The Huey would fly just a few yards to his left. The man powered the heat seeking device as the weapon's computer chips started scanning for a heat source.

* * *

Daniels had not yet pulled the trigger when the world exploded. He felt a tremendous crash against the side of his head. The Winchester flew out of his hands. He slammed against the windshield post of the Durango and slid down the side of the truck. Blood poured onto his left eye while his head dropped into the sandy soil. He tasted grit, dirt and blood in his mouth. He tried to stand but his knees gave way and he slid down again. His breath come in ragged pulls, bright spots danced in front of his eyes and a throbbing pain in the left side of his head seemed to overwhelm his thoughts.