Operation Chaos (18 page)

He got a laugh.

“Your uncle’s great,” Metzler said.

She nodded. He was.

During the whole trip, Mora and Troy had been making cracks, joking, having a good time. Soldiers for whom the tension of life and death was the most important tension of their lives, the one they understood.

She’d gone forward and they talked about the family. He wanted to know who was doing what. He was, as always, easy to talk to, empathetic, always, as her mother once described him, a rebel with an unknown cause.

Mora, fascinated by the hawks, wanted to know if and when they’d be released.

“I don’t release them until I think I might need to,” Troy said. “In my opinion, they are the essence of evolutionary intelligence. Pigeons, the little spies, are a far lower species. If I pick up a signal that lets me know pigeons are flying in the area with their little cameras, and they’re headed in my direction, I release.”

“How do you know they’re bad pigeons?” Mora asked.

“I shoot first and ask later. My boys will take them down. On this occasion, to be sure, I’ll release them just in case.”

Raniee thought he was just showing off.

“And they just do their job and come back?” Mora asked.

“It’s what they know. They’re good soldiers. I’m their momma, poppa, and drill sergeant. I learned how to train them from a guy who trained everything from geese to pigeons and hawks.”

They ran slow and quiet toward the coastline, snaking over the waves and troughs.

When it was time, around 1:30 in the morning, Troy released his two pigeon-killing hawks. “You can’t flourish in this world where pigeons, dolphins, and other creatures are out to do you in if you don’t have your own weapons.”

Rainee had a fixed smile. This was what these men, and tens of thousands like them, missed. The tension, the excitement, the edge. One of the great tragedies was that of sending millions off to war, but having no plan, no means, of reintegrating them back into society. And maybe society was going to pay a big price.

The tranquility of their journey ended when Troy picked up the approach of a boat and said, “I think we might soon have uninvited company.” He showed them on the Seascape Doppler and then some other instrument she wasn’t familiar with.

Keegan, studying the horizon with powerful night glasses, said, “About half a mile southeast and closing. It’s locked on us. Probably Mexican Coast Guard.”

“Those damn Mexicans,” Duran said.

“You’re Mexican,” Mora said.

“That’s what I mean,” Duran said and got a general laugh.

Rainee smiled. If there was one thing above all about soldiers that she loved, it was the refusal to surrender their dark sense of humor, no matter the situation. As one of them, who died in her arms, said, “Doc, tell me a really bad joke and I’ll die happy.”

“You’re really beautiful,” she’d said.

He smiled. And he did die. And she thought of him every time somebody told a joke, good or bad.

43

Troy opened his speedboat up to full throttle and they raced toward shore at speeds Rainee had never experienced on the ocean before, not even when she went out fishing with him years ago.

It’s going to be over before it even gets started, she thought grimly. Maybe it was delusional right from the start.

A powerful searchlight stabbed through the foggy darkness to the south of them, the light dancing over the white wave tops.

“Looks like somebody is looking to invite us to their party,” Troy yelled. “Gonna be a few bumps in the road, folks. Get a grip.”

Rainee grabbed a railing. Next to her, Keegan was holding on with one hand, tracking their pursuer with his night glasses in the other as they slammed over the waves.

Her uncle hit a new gear and the powerful engines kicked like rocket engines with a violent surge.

Troy yelled, “You bastards want to dance, let’s dance!”

He turned the boat radically one way, then the other, slamming down over waves with amazing ease.

He swung around and headed out to sea for a short distance, curled around, and went straight for the shore, cutting blind through the black night and fog, and now he had the boat surfing a wave.

“We’re gonna part company,” Troy yelled as they straightened out. “I’ll run back to see if things don’t work out and you can’t get the chopper.”

“Secure your packs,” Keegan yelled. “We’re going in.”

“Troy,” Rainee yelled, “you just outrun them and go to Peru. Don’t worry about us. We have other ways out of here.”

“They can catch a cold,” Troy said, “but they can’t catch me.”

“Havin’ fun now,” Mora yelled.

“Nothin’ like it,” Duran agreed.

“Get ready to hit the dance floor, my pretties!” Troy yelled as they slammed down another wave. “Can’t get you too close on account of all the rocks. You’re on your own. See you later. It’s been a pleasure. I’ll lure the boat away from you.”

Rainee prepared to jump into the black sea as the boat turned and slowed.

“Keep tight,” Keegan said. “Water’s rough—we don’t want to get separated. Hold each other by your packs or lifejackets. Stay together.”

Rainee didn’t have time to think about the situation. They were going to jump into rough water between a chasing boat and the rocks. It didn’t get any more exhilarating and scary.

Their only saving grace was fog blocking the moon, the only light coming from the chasing boat.

They prepared to hit the water as it was now obvious the boat chasing them had a lot of speed but appeared to have momentarily lost track of them.

The darkness would make them virtually impossible to find once they were in the water. Getting to shore through the rocks was another issue.

“You’ll bail over the starboard side,” Troy yelled. “Then I’m gonna split in a big hurry. Good luck.”

As the boat raced toward shore, the rock formations dead ahead, if there was a miscalculation, they’d wreck and it would be over.

The chasing boat appeared to be about a quarter mile out, a powerful light knifing across the choppy seas and now turning in their direction.

Then a burst of automatic gunfire sent everyone ducking.

Troy swerved violently, surfing violently across the waves.

“Close as I can get,” Troy yelled. “See you soon.”

He cut the engines.

“Go, go, go!” Keegan yelled, slapping each of them as they went in. Metzler and Duran first, Mora, then Rainee, with Keegan right behind her.

They headed for the rocks and shore. Keegan stayed with her, and when then moved toward the rocks, he had hold of her pack. As powerful a swimmer as she was, there was almost no chance she had the necessary control in that violent water without his help.

They worked to get closer together as they headed for shore. She glanced back and saw Troy’s boat race off down the coast and turn out to sea. Troy trying to draw the chasing boat off of them.

But the pursuing boat didn’t go after Troy. They came in closer to shore. It meant they knew what had happened and were now coming in for the kill.

A spotlight running over the water sought to light them up as the boat closed. The sporadic automatic weapons fire snapped close and zinged off the rocks they were trying to reach.

Keegan forced her toward the rocks as gunfire slapped the water and the rocks around them.

44

Fierce waves tossed Rainee about, dragging her under, then flipping her up into the teeth of the next wave with a force that threatened to carry her to destruction on the rocks.

They came on relentlessly, slamming her about as she fought to keep her movement and grab onto one of the rocks. Then a massive wave crashed over them and tore her away as she flailed in desperation not to be carried back out to sea.

Somebody grabbed her pack and pulled her back. It was Keegan. He moved her with ease to a more protective spot in a circle of the rocks.

Duran made it beside them and then Metzler came in helping Mora, who’d smashed hard into one of the outlying rocks and had blood on his face.

A searchlight washed over them in the crashing water.

“We need to get out of here before reinforcements show up on the highway,” Keegan said. “We can’t get trapped here.”

But just as he was about to lead them on shore, he turned, looking back toward the pursuing boat, and he said, “What the hell is he doing?”

Rainee moved out between rocks to where she could see the ocean. At first all she saw was the slapping white tops of the waves, and then she saw the light of their pursuer and now her uncle’s boat riding the waves towards that light. He was coming back!

You crazy bastard, no, get out of here! Rainee thought.

But he never flinched from his target.

“Jesus . . .” Rainee muttered in disbelief and her uncle’s boat shot across the waves toward the other boat.

Then the light that had been searching for them swung around and picked up her uncle’s boat as it bore down on their boat.

She expected Troy to turn and maybe get the other boat to give chase.

But to her horror and disbelief, he never turned. He went straight for the gunboat like a rocket. She stopped breathing.

Troy’s speedboat hit head-on at full throttle, sending both boats airborne in a violent, fireball embrace before crashing back into the sea in flaming pieces.

No one on either boat had any chance of survival.

Rainee was dumbstruck. Her uncle had committed suicide in a kamikaze attack to save them. She felt a horrible sickness rising into her chest.

“Get out of here,” Keegan said calmly over their earpieces. “This place will be crawling with federales.”

She had no time to react now as they struggled to get through the rocks and up on shore.

Somehow they scrambled in among bigger rocks and into the shallows and finally onto the beach.

Keegan said, “Anyone hurt?” They all checked themselves and announced in the negative, though Mora had blood on his head from the rocks but didn’t seem much fazed by the cuts.

The crossed a sandbar and walked up the beach. It was stony and full of patches of seaweed.

Duran and Keegan helped Mora, who suddenly appeared unsteady and may have suffered a mild concussion.

Metzler wanted to take his gear, but Mora refused to surrender his backpack. “I’m good. Let’s get out of here.”

They moved quickly up to the highway just as tiny headlights appeared to the north.

They crossed the highway, went into the brush, and worked their way up into the hills.

Stunned, incredulous by what had happened, Rainee moved up the hill in a daze. The sight of her uncle doing what he did, the violence of the explosion, his death—all of it was too shocking to absorb.

She had to push it away, deal with it later. Bringing up the surgeon’s separation from emotion.

45

Highly agitated, Colonel Tessler paced on the deck of Doctor Hall’s uncle’s place and stared at the empty slip.

He was furious that the tracking of the van had taken so long after they’d finally dug out the information from the men at the camp.

Feeling the stress of having lost them again, he stared out at the docks, the lights of the houses, the world of Imperial Beach and the Silver Strand less than a mile from the border of Baja. Doctor Hall’s uncle was gone. His boat was gone. They were gone. But where?

He glanced at his wrist monitor. The app kept a checkup on his heart, blood pressure, pulse. He wasn’t in “red” yet, but getting very close.

One of the agents working with Tessler came out onto the dock, saying, “His name is Troy West. He’s a ’Nam vet. Riverine Force turned minor-league criminal. He’s been involved in smuggling, has a girlfriend in Peru. That’s where they might be heading.”

Tessler took the news of the escape hard.

Keegan, with every enhancement modern technology had achieved, and Metzler not far behind, were way too dangerous to be on the loose in South America. They’d make Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid look like high-school campers.

Tessler turned to the agent. “Get every asset we have in play on the West Coast.”

How this simple operation had gotten so out of control was mind-boggling. Tessler couldn’t understand what had happened. Had to be the chip set failing and now it had taken out Keegan. No other explanation for his having killed his assets and then the Blacksnake team.

Tessler now regretted he’d been hesitant to give the kill order. That had backfired, gotten more people killed, and lost the target.

They were standing there, in the throes of the mess, when Colonel Tessler got a call from one of his Mexican operatives about a boat crash and an explosion off the coast of Baja. The crash involved a very fast boat and a Mexican coast patrol. No identity.

He doubted it was them so close to the coast, but if it was, maybe that was okay. He’d lose two of his very best, but it would put an end to Doctor Hall. Whatever the problem was with the Z-chips, Raab and Vereen would have to figure it out. Or bring somebody in who could.

46

With the heavy air, the steep climb, and the struggle to get out of the ocean, Rainee anticipated fatigue yet found only energy.

As she moved with her commando team to the top of a low ridge, the horror of what had happened overwhelmed her.

They hunkered down in the sand and bushes.

Keegan knelt next to her. He scanned the road below. Listened. Then he said, “If our escape was called in, there’ll be one hell of a lot of vehicles and choppers headed this way. If that happens, we’ll have no choice but to head into Tijuana. I have some contacts there. But I’m not hearing anything.”

“Mora and I both have relatives there,” Duran said.

“Yeah, but mine aren’t in jail,” Mora said. Then he put a hand on Rainee’s arm. “I’m sorry.”

Rainee nodded, her wet running pants and shirt clinging to her like duct tape, the weapon on her side suddenly heavy as she stared out at the road and beach below, her mind reeling with the shock of her uncle’s kamikaze death.