Divide & Conquer (19 page)

Adam donned a high-vis safety vest, grabbed a torch, his cell and headed down to the chaos he expected below.

As he walked, he called the airport’s operations chief, his boss. He quickly explained what had happened to the somewhat sleepy executive and was informed he would be arriving there within the half hour.

As he approached the aircraft, the four main doors opened and an internal stairway began to appear from the hold of the aircraft and within five minutes, Adam was surrounded by over 300 bewildered passengers. None of them spoke English and from what he could tell, they had as much difficulty understanding the Russian stewardesses.

A few minutes later, as the chaos was beginning to reach fever pitch, the captain appeared at the top of the stairs and announced everything was OK, they had identified the problem and were good to go.

“Err, sorry,” coughed Adam as it appeared the captain was simply going to reload his passengers and leave.

“It was just a faulty fuse, all fixed,” he explained as Adam rushed up the stairs to stop them.

“You can’t just take off. We need to file an incident report, contact the FAA…”

The captain gave Adam his best poster smile. “Son, I’m the Captain with a staff of fourteen and three hundred passengers keen to get to their destination. You’re one little guy, now get the fuck off my steps before I throw you off!”

Adam looked at the smile on the captain’s face and suddenly realized there was a complete lack of any warmth behind it. As good as it looked, it was only skin deep. The menace in his voice had Adam retracing his steps and praying his boss arrived before the plane had a chance to leave. It seemed unlikely. An order was barked at the passengers that were milling around the aircraft and almost as one, they disappeared back on board. The stairway began to retract back into the hold and as the final door closed, the plane began to taxi to the runway. Without so much as a request for clearance, the plane powered up its four massive engines and shot into the sky. The final act of the bizarre scene being its somewhat magical disappearance as the lights extinguished almost the second it left the ground.

Adam was left looking into the blackness of an empty sky and wondering if he had just dreamed the last twenty minutes when the screech of his boss’ tires brought him back to reality.

“Adam, what the hell are you doing down here?” asked his confused boss, pointing to the control tower. “Get up there and help the plane down.”

“They’ve been down,” he said meekly and then launched into what had happened, from the first mayday to the captain threatening to throw him off the plane.

Unfortunately for Adam, there would be no evidence of any plane having landed. While he was distracted by the multitude of passengers, two technicians had made their way to the tower and successfully doctored any record of their landing at Laredo. Every detail was wiped, even down to the customer service webcam that broadcast the exciting movements on Laredo’s runway. If anybody checked the flight number, they would find it had landed hours earlier at LAX, without incident and was in fact an Airbus A330. No Ilyushin had been used on the LA route for many years.

To add to Adam’s woes, a small stash of extremely potent Marijuana had been left near his workstation.

What Adam would never know was that the Ilyushin was no ordinary Ilyushin and was in fact one of a few experimental and highly secret ghost planes developed by the Russian military. Only flown at night, the plane had a slightly more angular look to its fuselage and borrowed technology stolen from the US many years earlier. Both allowed the massive jet to have the ability to appear on radar, just as Adam had thought, as a flock of birds. The other most startling ability, which Adam had managed to miss, was how quiet the engines were, barely audible over a revving car engine, allowing the plane to land and take off without alerting the local residents. All in all, Adam was going to have a very hard job convincing anyone of the plane’s existence.

As for the plane itself, within ten minutes, it was back cruising at 40,000 feet and taking three hundred rather bewildered Venezuelan tourists back to Venezuela, after a somewhat shorter than anticipated and promised trip to America. It had also deposited ten of General Yuri Borodin’s most experienced Spetsnaz troops deep in the heart of Laredo. Fresh from jungle training in Venezuela, the soldiers were ready to serve their General and kill Sean Fox.

Chapter 35

Sean arrived at the rest stop, as directed by Luis. Sean had had many bizarre working arrangements in his time with the CIA but he had to admit working with the nephew of the boss of a major drug cartel to supply him with the contacts in order to secure the East coast drug distribution rights was pretty much out there. Not for the first time he chastised himself for not going to the beach. But then James would still have been kidnapped and Katie would have had no hope of ever seeing him again. He chastised himself for chastising himself about the beach. Whether Los Zetas or the Gulf got the contacts, someone would and in the end, what difference did it make? A huge one but he had to think of young innocent James and not the lives of all the drug users he was condemning. Shit, why hadn’t he just gone to the beach.

Thankfully, before he could continue his circle of self-flagellation, headlights lit up the darkness of the rest stop and Luis pulled up alongside. The first issue Sean noted was the unexpected passenger; it seemed Luis had gained another bodyguard. The second issue was the rather clever second bodyguard who had waited until Sean had been distracted by the arrival of Luis to appear and place his gun firmly against the back of Sean’s head, through the open window of the Corolla.

As Luis and the first bodyguard exited their car, Sean noticed that the beating Luis had received had been significant. At least he hadn’t been given up without a fight. His judge of character remained intact. If little else, it was at least one plus point. The second, most welcome plus point, was the look of surprise on the bodyguards’ faces when they recognized who Sean was. Luis had obviously not divulged Sean’s identity to his uncle. The two guards crossed themselves at the sight of the man they had witnessed El Jefe carve to pieces some months earlier.

And that was the final and third plus point. Their strong belief in God sent them straight to their maker. Sean didn’t need another invitation. With the gunman’s hands busy crossing himself, Luis’ Desert Eagle which had been sitting on Sean’s lap, blew a hole through the door of the Corolla and cut the guard almost in half. Before the second guard had a chance to finish his left hand cross, Sean had sent him to hell, heaven or wherever the scum prayed to go.

“Did you get the rifle?” asked Sean, ignoring the two guards had even existed. His mind was on the clock and time was running away.

Luis nodded and walked painfully back towards his car to retrieve the weapon. Sean wasted no time and jumped out of the Corolla, stepping carefully over the latest casualty of the drug wars and retrieved the corpse from his trunk. As he was about to dump the body into Luis’ trunk, he considered the options. He now had another two potential shooters to frame.

“Who’s the most experienced?”

Luis, clearly not able to talk, due to the pain pointed to the sneaky fucker who had caught Sean by surprise. With half his internal organs covering the rest-stop, Sean didn’t feel particularly inclined to use him.

“And between these two?”

Luis pointed to the fresher of the two corpses which, as far as Sean was concerned, was perfect. The closer the time of death to the time of discovery, the better. He threw the freshly selected body in the trunk, torched the rental and set off to protect the identity of the most wanted killer in recent US history.

As they pulled out of the rest stop, Sean hit the re-dial button and connected to a far more awake Vincent.

“I need you to re-instate me!” began Sean.

Silence met his request.

“I need you to re-instate me!” repeated Sean in case Vincent hadn’t heard him.

With more silence meeting the second request, Sean realized what he needed to do.

“I need you to re-instate me, please.”

“There, that wasn’t so hard now, was it?” teased Vincent.

“Well?” asked Sean.

“Done. What’s the plan?”

“I work for you for two hours and then I’m off the books again. I just need to make sure I don’t get arrested myself!”

“Why would you get arrested? What have you done?”

“Nothing,” replied Sean. Killing drug cartel members wasn’t an arrestable offence as far as he was concerned. “But you’ll soon see why. And whatever happens, I must be kept out the press. That’s a must!”

The change of tone in Sean’s voice ensured a firm response from Vincent. “Of course, anything I can do?”

“Just keep your guerillas away!”

Vincent’s lack of response unnerved Sean.

“Vincent! Tell me you didn’t send anybody.”

“It’s crazy down there!” replied Vincent apologetically. He had sent his men.

“Fuck! How many and where are they going?”

“Just five and they’ll be on site in a couple of hours. I thought you…”

“Turn them round V,” interrupted Sean, not interested in what Vincent thought.

“I can’t, it’s above my pay grade. Governor Brown’s going to be the next president!”

“That wasn’t the deal, V?” argued Sean, reconsidering his position.

“I’m sorry Sean, it really is out of my control, the pressure from on high is more than I’ve ever experienced.”

Sean had had enough, the arrival of the team would do nothing but aggravate an already precarious situation “Think of something. If you don’t call me back within ten minutes to say it’s taken care of, I’m out!” promised Sean before killing the line.

“Shproblem?” struggled Luis, the beating from his uncle had cost him at least three teeth and a serious amount of swelling.

“Maybe,” pondered Sean, not knowing what he would do if the CIA hit team were not stopped.

“Whatever happens, you need to get me upstream from Juarez-Lincoln Bridge.”

Luis nodded rather than speak in response. The longer he let his mouth heal, the better. He stepped on the gas and used a few lesser-known back roads to get them to the river just a half mile upstream from the bridge.

As they neared the riverside and the ten minute deadline passed, Sean’s cell was silent.

As Sean removed the corpse and slung the rifle over his shoulder, the cell remained silent. He had no option but to go through with his plan. Whatever happened, it would remove a hurdle to getting James back. He just didn’t need V putting more in the way.

“So you know what you need to do?”

Luis nodded.

Sean braced himself and walked towards the water line. Just as he was about to enter, his cell rang, twelve minutes late.

Sean answered and remained silent.

“I’ve stopped them!” said Vincent curtly.

“Stopped?” asked Sean.

“Stopped,’ he repeated. “Although there is one thing I need you to do for me,” said Vincent.

Sean didn’t quite know if Vincent knew what 'one’ meant. Everything he was doing was for Vincent, 'one more thing’ would have been more appropriate.

“What?” replied Sean unhelpfully.

As Vincent explained, Sean wasn’t comfortable but, at the end of the day, it wasn’t going to make too much difference to him.

“Fine but when you say stopped, where did you stop them?”

“Corpus Christi, best I can do.”

Sean didn’t say anything else. He was too pissed off. Corpus Christi. The fucking beach!

He threw his cell at Luis and, grabbing the corpse, he entered the cold waters of the Rio Grande, a world away from the warm gulf waters lapping at the white beaches of Corpus Christi.

Sean kicked off and was soon caught in the river’s current that would wash him down towards the Juarez-Lincoln Bridge and the scene of the earlier shootings.

Chapter 36

Katie Fox tried to sleep but it wasn’t possible. The day had started as they all had since Sean’s death, with tears soaking her pillow. From there it had quickly deteriorated to the worst day of her life, with the kidnapping of James. The miraculous re-appearance of Sean had brought joy and hope back into her life. Joy at his being alive and hope that with Sean back, she would get her baby back. Sean exuded a confidence like no man she knew. That same confidence had convinced her that James would be returned unharmed to her and their family would be perfect again.

The realization that the new Sean wasn’t her Sean had been devastating and almost as though she had once again lost her husband, the grief had passed only to return with the added loss of James. Tears began to flow freely as she reflected on the day, the kidnapping, the killings, the bodies, Sean. Sean, it didn’t make sense, he was exactly like her Sean, his mannerisms, the confidence, the power he exuded. Everything about him said it was her Sean but her Sean didn’t have a metal hip. Even if he had had one, there was no way in the space of three months it could have healed in the way the new Sean’s had. It wasn’t her Sean but everything else was the same. How could a man have an exact replica. Only twins could be identical but Sean didn’t have a brother and even if he did, nobody calls their twins the same name.

Just as sleep and some respite from the trauma began to descend, the creak of the front door being opened snapped her awake. She jumped from bed and rushed to the door, perhaps it was James. The sight of the facially battered Luis met her as she rushed towards the door. The sight of the bruising and lack of Sean by his side sent her in to a fresh round of panic.

“It’s OK,” offered Luis in an attempt to placate her. “Sean didn’t do this, it was my uncle!”

The thought that her son was with a man that did that to his own nephew, not surprisingly, did the exact opposite of what Luis was hoping. Katie began to struggle for breath as a full-blown panic attack washed over her tired and stressed body.

Luis ran to the kitchen and managed to find a brown paper bag, placing it over Katie’s mouth and guided her towards the sofa. Luis explained what was happening and that Sean and James were both fine, which immediately calmed Katie down.