Overwatch: A Thriller Page 22
Realizing he had nowhere to go, John quickly stepped away from the door, drew his KA-BAR fighting knife, and waited. Lieutenant Garcia reacted similarly. He stood to the left of the door, his assault rifle slung across his back, a curved blade held in his right hand.
John hoped the sounds of battle and the morning dusk would conceal their presence long enough for them to act.
Wait for it, John. Wait for it.
As soon as they heard the last beep, the door swung outward and the barrel of an AK-47 appeared through the opening. John waited until the man’s left arm appeared, grasping the wooden foregrip under the barrel.
John lunged forward, snatched the barrel of the weapon with his left hand and violently yanked it down and toward him. The startled member of El Fuego’s security stumbled forward out of the doorway and toward John. As his momentum carried him forward, John lunged upward with his right hand, burying the KA-BAR into the man’s rib cage. The blade pierced the guard’s heart, killing him before he even realized what had happened.
As John guided the dead man to the ground, a second security guard appeared in the doorway, a look of horror on his face as he saw what had befallen his compadre. He raised his AK-47 toward John.
Lieutenant Garcia grabbed the man by the throat and jerked him backward as he slid the curved blade into the man’s spine, causing him to arch his back reactively. Lieutenant Garcia plunged the blade in farther until the man shuddered and grew still. He let the dead man fall to the sidewalk as the security door began to close.
John caught the edge of the doorway before it shut.
Well, that’s one way to get inside.
He peered into the opening and saw a short hallway that led to a much larger, illuminated space. He heard hurried voices speaking in Spanish, and he looked at the lieutenant.
“They’re panicking from the gunfire and explosions and trying to figure out what to do next,” Lieutenant Garcia said.
“Well,” John said with a wicked grin, “let’s not give them the time to figure it out.”
* * *
ALPHA TEAM
Logan lay facedown on the hardwood floor of the guest bedroom, the one they hadn’t had time to clear before El Fuego decided to incinerate them in his ad hoc crematorium. Heat rushed over him from behind.
Screams of pain emanated from the hallway. The other team members hadn’t been able to find shelter before El Fuego pulled the trigger on the flamethrower. I wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for whoever’s on my back.
Before Logan could react to the flow of thickened and ignited fuel that had snaked toward him, one of the team members had crashed into Logan, propelling him forward and through the door he’d been about to enter.
He felt the man push off his back. Logan rolled over to his right side to see Commander Vargas regain his footing. Logan likewise scrambled to his feet as the screams continued above the roar of the flames dancing in the hallway. There was no time for a “thank-you.”
Logan looked around the room for another way out. He cursed at the sight in front of them. One of the two large sliding windows was open. A sheet tied to the bedpost closest to the window hung out of it.
“Motherfucker. I’ll bet that’s our guy,” Logan cursed. “He must’ve heard us coming and squirted. We need air support now, but first we have to deal with El Fuego.” He knew there was little chance the other men caught in the firestorm in the hallway would survive, but they had to do something.
He grabbed an M67 fragmentary grenade off his vest and spoke rapidly as he pulled the pin. “He’s going to have to stop that blaze shortly. It’s a burst weapon. As soon as he does, I’m leaning out and tossing this down his fucking throat. As soon as it goes off, I’ll rush down the hall after him. You go left and tend to our wounded. Call the helos and tell them to use their FLIR radar to try and spot anyone outside the compound trying to escape. He’ll probably head into the mountains.”
No sooner had he finished speaking than the hallway, brightly illuminated moments before, suddenly went dark. In one swift motion, Logan lunged to the door in a kneeling position, his right knee forward and his left leg stretched out. As his knee touched the floor, he released the spoon and flung the grenade as hard as he could around the doorframe and into the hallway. He didn’t even look; he didn’t want to expose himself to the madman with the flamethrower. Luckily, his aim was accurate.
As the grenade landed down the hallway and bounced toward El Fuego, Logan stood up, his Kimber .45 in his hands, waiting to move. Logan watched Commander Vargas reach around his back for the small medical kit. He pulled out the morphine shots from inside.
Might at least give our wounded men some comfort, Logan thought.
Logan didn’t have time to further contemplate his team’s fate. The grenade detonated.
BOOM!
Logan was rewarded with a loud scream as the concussion reverberated down the hallway toward them.
Logan broke cover, turned into the hallway, and dashed through the inferno after his prey. He caught a glimpse of four shapes on the ground, but he didn’t linger to see if they were moving. There was no time.
The hallway was on fire on both sides of the wall. Smoke crept along the ceiling. Paint peeled and blistered as the heat devoured it.
My own personal version of hell. What a nightmare . . .
Logan moved through the flames, himself a shadow, toward what remained of the doorway to El Fuego’s bedroom. Both doors had been blown off their hinges, disintegrating in the grenade blast.
Logan sensed a very large, open space beyond the doorway as he approached. Unfortunately, El Fuego was nowhere near the entrance. Logan hoped the grenade had killed him instantly.
He reached the gaping hole that was now the bedroom entrance. He paused, listening. He heard the sound of metal scraping, followed by a loud crash as something large fell over.
Logan didn’t want to give El Fuego any more time to recover from the explosion. He stepped through the opening and into El Fuego’s inner sanctum, the Kimber raised in front of him.
On the floor twenty feet away lay El Fuego. He was wounded but still moving. Logan didn’t think he was going to expire of his own volition in the immediate future. He quickly scanned the rest of the room and confirmed it was empty.
El Fuego was at the base of a cabinet with built-in shelves. He tried to lift himself up to reach the top shelf, making painfully slow progress. The hose and flamethrower gun trailed behind him. The metal canisters on his back had been punctured by grenade fragments. A dark liquid slowly oozed from several of the holes and flowed onto the back of his red robe and exposed legs. Amazingly, he still wore his yellow fluffy slippers.
His hand was inches away from his objective, a nickel-plated .45 secured on a stand. Logan realized it must be loaded.
Nice. Functional as well as aesthetically pleasing. This guy doesn’t quit. I’ll give him that much.
Logan lowered the Kimber and fired a single shot into the back of El Fuego’s left leg. The man slumped backward to the floor, screaming in pain as he grabbed his shin. He rolled over onto his side, his back up against the cabinet, and stared defiantly at Logan.
Logan quietly said, “I told you not to move . . . or maybe I didn’t. Sorry. It’s been kind of chaotic out there. Regardless, it looks like you’re going to live, depending on what you can tell me about Juan Black.” Logan’s expression was impassive as he stared into the face of the murderous El Fuego.
El Fuego breathed hard and emitted a short laugh. “Fuck you, gringo. You’re not even here for me? I’m not telling you anything, pendejo.”
Logan nodded. “I thought as much, but let me tell you what I think.” He smiled as he continued, the grin catching El Fuego off guard. “I think Mr. Black was in that guest bedroom we just left, and I’ll also bet you have no idea who or what he really is. I can tell you one thing: his name is definitely not Juan Black. As for you, you’re done. There’s a Mexican army unit on its way to take you into custody
. It’s your lucky day, asshole. You get to live. I’m going to tie you up first though, just in case you get any more bright ideas.”
El Fuego said, “Mexican army? You must be one stupid American. I probably pay half of them. You really think they’ll take me in? Or keep me if they do? I’ll be back here within weeks or months. It’s the way things work down here. You and your country still haven’t figured it out yet. You can’t stop us. There’s too much money for the politicians, cops, and military. It’s never going to end, puta. I’m never going to end.”
Logan ignored the man’s rant, despite knowing it was partially—if not completely—true. He started to walk toward El Fuego when he heard a small sound behind him. He whirled and raised his pistol, only to see Commander Vargas standing at the door. The solemn look on his face told Logan everything he needed to know about the fate of the men caught in the firestorm.
Commander Vargas shook his head and beckoned Logan over.
God damn it. Logan had been hoping some of them might live, even though he’d suspected otherwise.
“Logan, they never had a chance. I’m sorry for your men and for mine. We can mourn them later and pay tribute to them on our own time.” Commander Vargas looked down at El Fuego, his voice hardening. “But for now, what about this piece of shit?”
“He doesn’t know anything,” Logan scoffed. “I shot him in the leg because he was trying to reach that weapon on the top shelf. It’s a nice pistol, by the way, a collector’s item. I bet he keeps it loaded. I was going to leave him for the cleanup team.”
Commander Vargas continued to stare at El Fuego. “I called in the air support. The helos should be in the area within minutes. As soon as you get outside, contact the pilots on channel seven. I told them to start looking for movement in the trees and on the hills. They’ll relay the information to you as soon as you contact them.”
“Thanks. What are you going to do now? Sounds like there’s still a hell of a fight going on outside. You reach Bravo Team?”
Commander Vargas smiled faintly. “Yes. Lieutenant Commander Concepción is dead. He was killed as they entered the garage. Lieutenant Garcia is in charge now. John is still alive. He’s responsible for the explosion we heard.” He paused, shook his head, and said, “Your man blew up the entire garage. There’s nothing left. Probably saved several lives doing it.”
Logan nodded. “That sounds like John, all right. He’s a bit of an overachiever when it comes to explosives.”
“So it seems. They’re about to enter the attached building. It’s apparently some kind of production facility,” Commander Vargas said.
“Go figure. Well, at least it’s going to be out of service after today. Thank you. And again, I’m sorry about your men. I’m going after Juan Black. Can you tie this piece of shit up for me?”
Logan stepped toward the door when Commander Vargas grabbed him by the arm.
Logan looked up, his eyebrows raised. “Logan, this man is evil. Nothing more. He’s responsible for the deaths of hundreds if not thousands. I’ve seen his handiwork before. If we take him into custody, he might be able to buy his way out with the corrupt officials I know he’s connected to.”
Logan knew where this was going, but he said nothing.
“Logan, what I’m saying . . . what I’m asking is this—from one man of honor to another, do you object if I take care of El Fuego myself? It’s the only way justice will be served, especially in Mexico.”
Logan didn’t hesitate. He’d considered it briefly himself. “I agree. He made his choices a long time ago, and now it’s time to pay for them. And if you think he could walk, then do it. Sounds like he’s had it coming for a long time now.”
Commander Vargas nodded once and said, “Thank you. Now go find Juan Black while I tend to this matter.”
Logan was almost at the door when he paused, turned around, and said to El Fuego, “I was wrong, asshole. It’s not your lucky day. But even better, you were wrong about that last point. You are about to end.” He saw Commander Vargas reach into a cargo pocket and pull out a metallic shape he recognized as a lighter. “I hope you burn in hell, after you burn here.” He turned and ran down the flaming hallway to pursue his real target.
A stunned El Fuego sat on the ground, contemplating his imminent demise. He looked from the empty space Logan had just occupied to Commander Vargas, but there was no mercy to be found. His sentence was about to be rendered, the full horror of it slamming him in the gut.
Logan reached the midpoint of the hallway as he heard a loud whoosh, followed by screams. He smiled, his righteous outrage and desire for justice temporarily satiated.
That’s what you get for playing with fire.
Several moments and screams later, a loud gunshot echoed down the corridor. Commander Vargas had shown El Fuego a small token of mercy at the very end.
That’s better than what you deserved, you sonofabitch, Logan thought and kept running. He had more pressing matters to attend to—catching Juan Black.
CHAPTER 41
BRAVO TEAM
Things weren’t going as smoothly for John Quick and Bravo Team, which had followed him and Lieutenant Garcia inside once they’d secured the door. As soon as they’d infiltrated the building through the small passageway, they’d been engaged by a security member in a tiny office that served as an observation area for the entire facility.
John had been forced to shoot the man in the chest as they proceeded down the hallway, and as a result, they’d lost what little element of surprise they’d gained during their otherwise silent entrance.
The small office contained few furnishings: a wooden desk with a phone atop it, three folding chairs, and a series of lockers along the left wall. In addition to the minimalist decor, a wall approximately three feet high was connected to the ceiling by a large Plexiglas window. A single door to the right of the glass led inside to the facility. As for the facility itself, the mystery of its true purpose had been solved.
The building was a gigantic, industrial methamphetamine lab. The large ventilation system was the exhaust for the by-product toxic gases produced by the chemical reactions involved when cooking large quantities of crystal meth.
On the far side of the building opposite Bravo Team’s entry point was a series of four gigantic stainless steel vats suspended six feet off the floor, which was coated with a clear sealant. Each vat was at least eight feet in diameter and covered with a large cylindrical top. All the vats were connected by a series of pipes and stainless steel ductwork to several large machines, none of which John recognized. But they didn’t matter since he was too busy focusing on the concentrated small arms fire they were receiving.
A group of six heavily armed security personnel had positioned themselves behind the industrial equipment and alternated in providing covering fire that had Bravo Team pinned down inside the observation area. The Plexiglas had been shattered by their initial volley. Bullets continued to shred the wooden desk, walls, and lockers.
John had maintained radio silence with Logan until now, but given their current predicament, he knew he had to update Alpha Team. He was about to press the talk button on his microphone when Logan’s voice erupted from the Bravo Team channel into his tiny headset, “Bravo Team, we have secured the villa. El Fuego is dead, but the target escaped out a second-story window. Air support is inbound to assist. I’m in pursuit. Treat all remaining security personnel as hostile. Lethal force authorized.”
John quickly responded. “Roger, Alpha. Adjacent building looks to be some kind of giant meth lab. We’re in the process of securing it. Happy hunting. Out.”
“Roger, Bravo. Put it out of commission. Will contact you once I’ve secured the target. Switching over to the tac air channel now. Call and update the base once you’re done. Out.”
More bullets hit the walls and remaining pieces of Plexiglas, sending shards cascading onto Bravo Team in cover behind the small wall. Lieutenant Garcia looked over to see John smiling as Logan’s transmi
ssion ended.
“That’s fucking music to my ears. Now it’s our turn.” He spoke just loud enough to ensure all of Bravo Team heard him and quickly explained his plan.
The security teams inside were well trained. The fusillade of fire continued, four automatic weapons firing in synchronization every time one team reloaded. John was impressed.
Too bad for you guys it’s about to end—swiftly.
John pulled an M67 fragmentary grenade from his vest. He watched as both Lieutenant Garcia and another Bravo Team member—one of the FBI’s HRT—did the same. He pulled the pin on his grenade and held the metal spoon in place.
“One. Two. Three. Now!” He released the spoon and tossed the grenade over the wall in an arc as Lieutenant Garcia and the HRT operator did the same.
John’s grenade sailed over two SUVs and landed near the two-man team on the right side of the facility. The other two grenades landed near their intended marks on the other side of the industrial machinery. All of Bravo Team crouched as low to the ground as possible behind the wall as the security teams realized what had been thrown at them.
John heard one man begin to scream something in Spanish, but his cry was cut short by three successive explosions.
Boom! Boom! BOOM!
Shrapnel whizzed through the air, piercing holes in sheet metal and denting the various equipment. A plastic barrel containing some kind of chemical was punctured, and the leaking fluid ignited. A loud whoosh! ripped through the building. The seemingly relentless enemy fire suddenly ceased.
John and Lieutenant Garcia leapt over the wall and ran deeper into the building as three Bravo Team members raised their assault weapons and opened fire in the direction of the security teams’ positions. Two other team members went left, completing the other half of their flanking maneuver.
As John drew closer and passed the nearest SUV, he saw flames from the fire in the back of the facility. An acrid smell in the air burned his nostrils.