Chapter 8

Top came back a little over an hour later grinning like a mad fiend at the same time Weird surfaced from his daze.

"The East Bay warehouses," Top announced triumphantly.

"That checks," Weird nodded. "The first tracker on her limo stopped transmitting about midnight, just about the time she was supposed to have left the party. The second one didn't stop until they got right here." He placed his finger on a map of the Bay area. It was an area just west of East Bay. At one time there had been considerable merchant traffic there and the area around the nearly abandoned piers was littered with huge warehouses and cold storage facilities.

"They found it then?" I asked.

"I don't think so," he answered shaking his head. "If it had been me and I found a second tracker I'd have driven the car all over hell and back to confuse anyone who was watching it. My guess is they drove it somewhere where it's surrounded with metal. The signals aren't that strong to begin with and it wouldn't take all that much to mask it. One of the buildings maybe, or maybe they put it into a trailer. No, my guess is they never found it and this is where they were and maybe still are."

"No problem with the snitch?" I asked looking at Top.

"Sang like the pigeon he is," Top grinned. "He knew there were some big boys from Ecuador in town and he knew about where they were setting up their operation but not much else. He'd heard a rumor they were here to drum up business in their acquisitions section (their euphemism for kidnapping) but hadn't heard if a big snatch was going down soon."

"You think he'll tip them off?"

"Not much chance of that," Top laughed. "Tiger and Bobby Dee are sitting on him right how. He isn't going anywhere." Tiger and Bobby Dee were ex-rangers, likable enough and competent as much as those army types can be. Top was right: Javier wasn't going anywhere.

"So, this is the most probable target?" I asked looking at the city planning map that showed block outlines of each individual building.

"Best guess," Top interjected looking at Weird for corroboration. "If Weird's intel is good and I have no reason to doubt it then that's the most probable place."

"What do we have on it?" I asked as I studied the possible approaches.

"Building schematics," Weird said and a 3-D holo of a warehouse appeared in front of us. "Five entrances: Two large truck entries for shipping/receiving and three personnel doors. One each next to the truck gates and the third on this side out of sight from the rest."

"Any utility tunnels?" I asked. "Roof access?"

"None," he answered shaking his head. "It's really nothing more than four walls and a roof to keep the rain out. It was originally used for temporary storage before transshipment. There are a few offices here near the center. My guess is if she's there, that's where they have her."

"Okay, we don't have much time to reconnoiter. The note says they want the money sometime tomorrow morning," I sighed. "I say the first thing we do is split and come up on them from all sides and see if we can pick up on any guards or spotters. Once we have them IDd we can decide where to move next."

I could go through our planning as we sketched it out over the next hour but I won't. Sure it had been years since we had done this for real but it was just like riding a bicycle: not something you easily forget. It was like water flowing down a hill, it just happens. It's not like we go into a whole lot of detail anyway; we hadn't bothered with that for years. For the most part this was going to be like almost every other mission we'd ever had: that is we'd make it up as we go along. I've heard it said that a plan will survive anything except contact with the enemy and from my experience I'd say that was right about ninety-nine times out of a hundred. The hundredth time is when things really go wrong. Sometimes too many details can slow the reactions of the people involved so I try to keep them to a minimum. Besides, my people are pros: they don't need me to tell them when and who to shoot; they just know.

By the time we got loaded up and hauled ass over to East Bay it was mid-afternoon and hotter than hell. This was good news if the bad guys were using anything except the most sophisticated IR snoopers but not so good for visuals. Hopefully the old issue camies we were wearing would help with that. Those camies aren't a cloak of invisibility or any magic like that but they were pretty damn close, if you ask me. Developed during the second half of the war, they were made of a special fabric with a light and dark dot pattern. Looking at them up close you wonder how the hell you wouldn't stick out like a sore thumb in just about any terrain, but believe me it works. Someone explained to me once that it works by not really hiding you, the person on the looking end does actually see you, but for some reason their eyes kind of glide over you and don't tell their brain that they've seen something. Don't ask me: above my pay grade; all I know is that it works. I was once able to walk through an open field in broad daylight right up next to a sentry and slit his throat before he even knew I was there. Maybe it is magic, at that.

I had Mike and Weird with me as we worked our way towards the probable target from about a klick out while the other three teams did the same thing. An outsider might have thought we were moving really slowly as we picked and frog-hopped our way through that maze of empty buildings and in some ways they'd be right. We went slowly because we wanted to make sure of two things: first that we would see any sentries before they saw us and secondly, we had to make sure the buildings around the target were clear before we proceeded. It's not that I didn't believe Weird but he could only tell us what his sensors told him. Just because the car stopped in one particular building didn't mean that was where they were or that they were keeping Tink there. There are times when charging in with all guns blazing is the right thing to do; this wasn't one of them.

As it turns out everything surrounding the target was clear and empty. Tampa isn't the greatest natural port in the world and even though it had been hopping during the war, afterwards most of the commercial shipping had either gone north to the new man-made port near the Pensacola crater or south to Port Charlotte. That move had left a lot of empty warehouses and piers in the East Bay area. I'm sure it was all scheduled for "redevelopment" for some time in the future but right then it was just empty cover for us.

"In place," I heard one team after the other report in over our secure net. We were lying down on a roof directly across from what I'd call the main entrance although we could also see the north side of the building which was nothing but bare metal. Mike had her big mama out and was slowly traversing the breadth of the warehouse about a hundred meters away with the mounted IR scope. We were on the east side and I'm sure the building's roof probably looked like a blazing sun through the scope but she had the ability to screen it out. The wall and truck door we were looking at were fairly cool and our equipment good enough I was confident she would be able to pick up heat signatures for a good piece inside the building even through the thin metal siding. Weird was doing the same with a handheld set next to her.

"Two bogies sweating like pigs over here," Top informed me through the net. He meant there were two sentries standing outside the second set of truck/personnel doors on the west side.

"We can see one just inside the door," Stan reported from the south where they were watching the single personnel door.

"We can see the north wall from here," I told them. "Nothing there. I think we can forget it unless they blow the side and try to go that way." It's what I would have done, or at least had the option ready, but I was willing to bet the goons inside hadn't thought of it. If they had then everything could go to shit real fast but hell, this was real life and you have only so many resources and you can't plan against every stinking little contingency.

"Okay," I continued sub-vocalizing. "Five on the accesses at least." That bothered me. If they had five or maybe six just guarding the doors how many might be inside? This could get fuzzy real quick.

"Ah, boss," Mike chimed in. "I count twelve, maybe fifteen bodies about ten meters behind the door and maybe a couple further off to the left. Mostly still with minor movement. Looks like they're just standing around waiting."

"I confirm," Weird said from beside me.

"Fifteen?" I glanced questionably at Mike hoping beyond hope I heard her wrong. I hadn't and she nodded as she pulled away from the scope's eyepiece. "Fuck!" I hiss softly.

"They got an army in there, Boss," she said gently. She knew as well as I did there was no fucking way we were going to be able to take out anywhere near fifteen before either one of us or Tink got killed in the crossfire.

"Maybe most of them are other hostages?" Weird added helpfully.

"Can't take that risk," I answered shaking my head. "Besides this would explain why there are so many on the doors. One each I can see but you start putting two outside or even inside that's too many unless you have a shitload in reserve to relieve them. Let me think for a minute."

"Boss is thinking again," Mike whispered over the net. "You know what that means." I did my best to ignore both her and the groans that came in response.

I sat back a little ways from the edge making sure I couldn't be seen from the ground and pondered a bit. Could we get them to come out for some reason? Would it do any good? What if they were all goons with one little Tink? We could get maybe half before the rest started spraying lead. I mulled over this and started with one plan then switched to another as the first one went to shit in my mind. I was beginning to think this was beginning to look like trying to play solitaire with one of the kings missing when I got interrupted.

"Cap'n, car coming."

I belly-crawled over to the edge and looked down. A huge black limo slowly turned the corner and purred right up to the big truck door. It started opening and the limo drove through and into the warehouse. Once it was inside the door started closing but not before we got a good look at the crowd standing around waiting for it. Muscle and plenty of it, with lots of hardware showing. They sure as hell weren't hostages!

"Looks like one of the bosses showed up," Weird commented.

"You want me to start taking them out?" Mike asked as the door started slowly dropping.

"As you were, Mike," I said and her finger relaxed slightly off the trigger. "I got a better idea. Team, this is Mayhem. This is what I want to do..."

+ + +

"You call that a better idea, boss?" Mike hissed. "Are you fucking crazy?" The rest of the net was strangely silent.

"Opinion noted," I replied evenly. Even if we weren't civilians now her comment wouldn't have been considered insubordination, not by me anyway. I always accepted any input any of the team wanted to give me before a mission and it certainly saved my ass more than once. After we got started it would be different story but for now I accepted it. Besides, how could I argue? She was dead on.

"I'm open for better suggestions," I added. "But I can't think of any."

"How about forgetting the whole thing?" Mike said vehemently. "She isn't your problem, especially after the way that bitch fucked you over."

"This isn't about Cynthia," I said taking a deep breath. "This is about Antigua, a little girl who is my friend. I don't turn my back on my friends."

"You don't have to do this, Mike," I said gently. "None of you do. This is my play. You can all opt out and I won't think the less of you."

"I'm with ya, Cap." "I'm in." So are we."

"We're all with you, Captain," Top added finally. "But Mike's right: This is the craziest stunt you've ever come up with and that's saying something."

"Mike?" I asked her softly.

"Of course I'm in," she growled. "Who else is going to save your dumb ass?"

"Thanks guys," I muttered over the net. "Stan, I think I'm going to need your expertise..."

+ + +

"You're sure you can open that door?" I asked Weird about half an hour later.

"No problem, Cap," he answered. "I caught their signal when they opened the door earlier. Standard low-level encryption; I can have it opening by the time you get to it."

"Let me get right up next to it before you do," I told him. "Okay kids, its showtime!"

I worked my way off the roof from the opposite side away from the guards and moved around until I was just around the corner. Top was right: This was without a doubt the craziest stunt I'd ever come up with and the chances of me living through it were about the same as winning the Florida Lotto. Taking another deep breath I flipped the cover off the dead-man's switch in my left hand, depressed it with my thumb and stepped out into the lot and started walking toward the big truck door.

Almost instantly three bullets from the 7mm's crashed into three skulls. We only had three of the assassin rifles so Stan had to take two shots at the guards next to the door around the corner but I'm willing to bet the second one didn't even know his partner was down before the second shot put him well beyond caring. The only sound I heard was a metallic ping as one of the rounds went clean through one of the goon's skull and ricocheted off the metal side of the warehouse. I'd hoped nobody inside heard it but about fifteen seconds later it didn't matter anyway. That's how long it took me to cross the lot and stand in front of the door. Just as I stopped in front of it the door started opening. Thank God for Weird!

I was hoping having the door open unexpectedly would confuse those inside and freeze them for a moment or two; at least enough so they wouldn't shoot me immediately. If they didn't then we actually had a chance; if not, well then everything was fucked. The one and a half kilo's of C12 I had strapped to my waist would probably take down the whole building and certainly anyone inside it within line of sight of the blast would be hydro-shocked into bags of gelatin. It wouldn't do much for my day either.

I know C12 isn't its official name but the stuff is about three times more powerful than the old C4 plastic explosive so that's what we in the business call it. It's really remarkable stuff and fun to play with. It starts out as a gel and you can squeeze it out of a tube just like toothpaste where it sets up with the consistency of modeling clay after about thirty seconds of exposure to air. It's great for forcing it into tight places, like locks or door frames, and makes it incredibly versatile in the hands of an expert. It's completely inert in any of its forms until detonated using a special electronic detonator but when it is it packs a pretty good punch. Unfortunately this wasn't one of those finesse jobs, I just needed its blast radius or more precisely it's threat.

There were at least twelve guns pointed at me as the door rolled up but luckily nobody was shooting, yet. Partly I assumed was because of the surprise but partly I'm sure it was because they could see I was alone and unarmed. At least there wasn't a gun in my hand. I started walking towards them at a normal pace. I'm sure they could see I was carrying something in my left hand but it was small and obviously not a weapon.

I got to within about ten meters before one of them finally said, "Stop! That is far enough!" He had a thick SA-Spanglish accent.

"Yes, it is," I agreed. "I'd be a bit careful where you're pointing those things if I were you. You wouldn't want me to drop this," I said holding up the small cylindrical detonator. "My thumb comes off the trigger and BOOM! That would be a shame since I'm only here to talk." Very slowly I used my right hand to pull my blouse apart to expose the bomb I had strapped to my stomach.

"Holy Mother!" one of them gasped in Spanish. "Crazy fucker!" said another.

"Not crazy," I said in my own fairly good Spanish. "I just wanted to get your attention," I continued switching back to English.

"Who are you and what do you want?" the first said as he slowly lowered his piece down to where it was pointing somewhere between us. He motioned for the others to do the same. They did so nervously but then I suppose they had a right to be nervous when some crazy bastard with a bomb was standing right in front of them.

I wasn't nervous but then unless you've been in combat or some other life-threatening situation you'd just think I'm nuts. I was in the zone. The closest I can come to describe it is you're high as a kite but totally aware of everything going on around you. Technically I suppose it's the adrenalin pouring into your body readying it to either fight or flee and the endorphins it stimulates but that's just doc-talk. What it means to normal people like you and me is your body primes itself to do whatever needs to be done and from personal experience I can tell you it gives you a head-in-the-clouds, fatalistic, don't give a shit attitude in the face of situations that would cause any sane person to freeze into quivering lumps of jelly. You don't believe me? Then just ask yourself how for the past ten to a hundred thousand years have armies been able to entice normal human beings to charge into the face of an enemy carrying sharp pointy things or projectile weapons? It doesn't sound like a particularly effective survival mechanism to me but I know it's there and it works more often than not.

Kind of like walking into a den of cold-blooded killers with a bomb strapped to your chest to retrieve one little girl that you've known for only a couple of months. Like I said, it just ain't sane, but there I was.

"Who I am really isn't important," I said using as little emotion as I could. "What I want is. Now, where's your boss? I want to talk to him."

"You will talk to me," number one hissed.

"I don't think so," I replied cocking my head to look him over. He may have been one of the upper lieutenants in this organization but it was obvious he wasn't the top dog. I admired his loyalty in the attempt to shield his master but I really didn't have time for those games. "Your boss is here, or at least someone higher up than you is. That's who I'll talk to and I can wait here as long as it takes. Well, maybe not for too long. Sooner or later my thumb is going to get tired and this conversation will be over quickly. Oh, I probably should point out that nobody is getting out of here alive before me. I'm alone in here but I do have friends outside."