GOTU - A Robin Marlette Novel (21 page)

“They are headed to where we expected,” Burke said into the radio. “Just hang back until we get closer.” The men settled in for the drive.

Captain Pearle's telephone rang. “He's here,” Hammel said. Pearle looked at Lieutenant Morrison from Internal Affairs, “Game time.” The two men walked down to the Street Narcotics Section office. Pearle seethed inside. The tapes were more than damaging to Molina. They were sickening. They met Hammel just outside the door.

The Captain whispered to Hammel, “You place him under arrest. I am sure he will invoke. Mike will take it from there.”

“Yes, sir.”

The men walked in. Molina sat at his desk, holding his head in his hands. He looked up and saw the three men and focused on Lieutenant Morrison. He jumped up and backed against the wall. Molina's eyes had the look of a cornered animal. His hand went for his gun.

“Don't do it, Jose!” Hammel screamed. The three command officers drew their guns and moved in different directions. Molina put his gun to his head and cried out, “I am so, so sorry.” He pulled the trigger.

Pearle rose from his crouch and approached Molina's body with his gun drawn. He took the gun out of Molina's hand. Pearle felt cheated. He'd wanted to kill the son of a bitch himself.

Angie sat writing a report when John Lucheck walked into the wire room supervisor's office.

“Hey, Angie, where are Rob and Ernie's guys?”

“Oh, I am sure they have a lot to do about their families' security and everything.”

“Well, I wish they would have told me at breakfast. I needed to talk to Emmett about shutting down this place.” John walked out. Angie took a deep breath and went back to writing. The phone rang.

“Agent Spurline.”

“Angie, its Mary Tatum. I have a phone call Rick Santos said I should give to you.”

“Yes, Mary. Put the call through.”

“Here it comes.” Angie heard a click and then a man say, “Hello?”

“This is Agent Spurline with DEA. Is this Jorge?”

There was a pause. “I don't know if I should be talking to you.”

“Then don't. Just listen. The Guardians are coming tomorrow morning an hour before dawn. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Are Cathy and Maria safe?”

“Yes.”

“Can you get them together about an hour before dawn?”

“I don't know. Let me think.” Jorge paused. “Tell them I will have both of them in the small guest room in the main house. I'm sorry, I must go.” He hung up.

Angie hung up the telephone and sat back. Now she would wait until the Guardians called. She had felt much better about all of this since Rick told her both squads were joining their sergeants, and she was relieved to hear Cathy was safe for now. Rob would feel better with that news.

Frustration made it impossible for Chris to sit in his office chair. He talked to Hank Rawls, the Chief of Staff for the Deputy Director of the FBI, about the rescue. Rawls kept on saying, “State is still negotiating with Mexico.”

They only had a small window of time to get this rescue done. Chris knew Cathy, which fueled his frustration. She was a great kid.

The FBI Hostage Rescue Team sat staged at Fort Huachuca in Sierra Vista, Arizona. Their team leader debriefed Carlos at Luke AFB early in the morning. HRT had the layout of the ranch and all of the buildings. Their manpower had been supplemented with a team from Delta Force. The Mexican government just needed to give approval. The telephone rang.

“Agent Fleming.”

“Chris, it's Hank.”

“Give me the good news, Hank.” Chris heard a deep breath on the other end.

“State says no go, Chris. I'm sorry.”

“What! This is insane!” Chris yelled.

“Calm down, Chris. State says the Mexican government is going to handle the situation. They are going to put the word out that they want to negotiate with Rodriquez-Lara.” Anger flooded through Chris and he knew he shouldn't say anything else.

“Thanks for trying, Hank.” Chris hung up and called the wire room.

“Agent Spurline.”

“Angie it's Chris. Is Robin back from Tucson yet?”

“No, he isn't.”

“Okay, put Emmett on the phone.”

“He isn't here either.”

Chris thought about this. “Is there anybody from Rob or Ernie's squad there?”

“No.”

“Angie, please don't lie to me. Did they all go south?”

After a moment, Angie said, “Yes they did.”

“Damn! Angie, meet me at the Air Support office.”

“I can't leave here.”

“Yes, you can. Forward the phone to Air Support.”

“I can't. I'm waiting for a call from the guys. I have important information for them.”

“Angie, please trust me. I'm not going to try to stop Robin from going after his daughter. State shut down the HRT op. All I want to do is help them. Now please, meet me at Air Support.”

“Okay, Chris.” Twenty minutes later, Chris opened the door to Air Support as Angie drove up. He waited for her, and they walked in together. Jack Moore and Oscar Leighton greeted them. Bill Grassley and Russ Martin walked out of Martin's office.

“What are you guys up to?” Grassley asked.

“Bill, State said no go on the HRT op.”

The book Jack Moore was holding went flying across the room. “Those goddamn motherfuckers,” he yelled.

“And Rob and Ernie's squads are headed for the border.”

“And Carlos,” Angie interjected.

“Oh, that's just fucking great!” Chris threw his hands up into the air.

“Angie, what else do you know?” Bill asked in a calm voice.

“According to Rick Santos, they are planning to hit the ranch an hour before dawn. Rob and Ernie were going to do it alone. They don't know about their squads, and Carlos coming after them.”

“Why are you here, Chris?”

“We have to help them…the Blackhawk!”

“That's a bit fanciful at this point, don't you think?”

“But Bill” Grassley held his hand up to quiet Chris.

“Everybody sit down. I'm going into Russ's office to make a telephone call. Do nothing, say nothing outside of this room until I am done. Don't look at me like that, Chris. You have no idea what I'm about to do.” Grassley turned and went into Russ Martin's office.

“I can't believe Rob would do this without us,” Jack said.

“Hell, Jack, he and Ernie were going to do it alone!” Chris said.

“I know. That's crazy!”

Oscar Leighton spoke up. “You know Rob has a plan. He is a master tactician. He isn't crazy. He wouldn't endanger his daughter for nothing. He has something up his sleeve.”

Thirty minutes went by without Grassley emerging from the office. They heard him laugh intermittently. Finally, he came out.

“Jack, fire up the 'Hawk. I want you and your crew to go to Davis-Monthan, refuel, and wait for my directions. Monitor the TAC frequencies. I am sure that's what the Guardians are using. Let me know if you hear anything.”

“I'm going with them,” Chris said.

“No you're not, Chris. You are staying with me and Angie. We may be calling in every marker we have tonight. You are more valuable here. In fact, I need you to find out when HRT is leaving Fort Huachuca. If they are planning leave before tomorrow, I am going to need you to stall them. Russ, you go with Jack. If we take action, you will be in tactical command. Everybody got it?”

Jack, already headed out the door, yelled, “Yes, sir!”

Jordan Yates, the CIA Deputy Director for Operations, thought about the conversation with his old friend Bill Grassley as he walked to the Director's office. Many years before, he and Grassley were young CIA agents working all over the Middle Eastern part of the world. They were a highly respected covert team. They went through many tight spots together, and became close.

Then Bill Grassley fell madly in love with a beautiful Lebanese woman and got married. He decided he wanted to be home with his wife instead of traipsing all over the world. He left the CIA and joined U.S. Customs. Yates and Grassley were still good friends.

As Yates approached the door to the Director's office, he glanced at this watch. It read 7:00 pm. The Director started work at five every morning, something you don't always see in a political appointee. The hours he kept necessarily meant the other members of top staff also worked long hours. Yates stood at the Director's door. The Director motioned him in, and Jordan walked in and sat in a chair with a parlor set in the corner of the Director's office. The Director left his desk and sat in a chair next to Jordan.

“Tell me more about this Arizona issue.”

“Well, sir, we have what appear to be two rogue police squads about to violate one hell of a lot of international law to try to rescue their leader's daughter.”

“This is all related to the attacks in Arizona we were briefed on last night, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I thought we were going to send the FBI HRT and Delta in to get her out.”

“State just said ‘no go.’ Mexico says they will handle it.”

The Director grunted. “What is your friend Grassley's suggestion?”

“Bill is a very astute man. He sees a political liability here that can be turned into a political asset. The way he sees it, we have a highly trained and experienced team about to go into Mexico to rescue an American citizen whether we like it or not. He thinks the chances are good they are going to succeed. If they do succeed, it will be a publicity event that will eclipse anything going on right now. It will be
the
headline—and the headline will be how the federal government failed to act.” Yates paused to let that sink in.

“On the other hand, if the team that makes the rescue is a CIA covert ops team, the headlines will be much different. Mexico is going to raise holy hell no matter who does it. If we are in control, we can do the ‘we cannot confirm
or deny
U.S. involvement’ dance in such a way everyone knows we did it, but we will never openly admit it.”

“You have me a little confused. Where is our covert ops team?”

“Those police officers poised to go into Mexico.”

The Director sat back in his chair. “How are we going to make
this
work?”

“Grassley suggests we designate them a CIA asset now. This will give us the latitude to give them support, if they need it. When we get them back on this side of the border, Grassley guarantees me he will be able to keep them quiet. There will be no leaks. We will control the reaction to Mexico's objections.”

“What would be the officers' motivation for not going to the press?”

“They won't be prosecuted.”

“The political aspects of this would be the President's motivation. What is mine for starting all of this?”

“If you want it, you get a highly trained and experienced covert action team we could keep a secret for a very long time.”

The Director sat deep in thought for a good five minutes. Jordan knew the Director worked all of the angles in his head, examining the potential of a covert team nobody knew about, the political disadvantages and advantages, and the impact on his future career plans. The Director reached for the telephone on the coffee table.

“Hi, Sally. Tell Walt to get the chopper ready to go to the White House. Call the White House and tell them we are coming and need to see the President ASAP. Thank you.”

Thirty-two minutes later, the two CIA officers sat in the Oval Office with the President. The Director briefed the President on the proposal and all the ramifications he could determine. When the Director finished, the President rose from his desk and looked out the window into the faint glow of the beginning summer night.

“These are the officers leading the investigation that found Bob Mickerson was on the take, aren't they?”

“Yes, sir,” Yates answered.

The President turned around. “These officers sound like good men—with balls. They certainly did me a favor by uncovering Mickerson. We can use men like them. Go with the plan. Get with my press secretary and make sure he knows enough to not screw up the publicity side of this. Now, if you will excuse me, I am going to get back to having a cocktail with my wife. Thank you, Gentlemen.”

TWENTY SIX

Pull over and stop, Ernie. Time to check our back trail.”

Ernie checked his mirrors again. “There's no one following us, Rob.”

“Just pull over. I've got a feeling.”

Ernie rolled his eyes and brought the Bronco to a halt on the left side of Duquesne Road. Robin got out of the truck with binoculars and climbed a small hill. He glassed back along the road. A minute later, he came back to Bronco.

“We have company.”

“We do?!”

“Yes. Just sit tight.”

“Who do you think it is?”

“It's Burke and probably everyone else.”

“How do you know?”

“I saw two vehicles. I just know it's Jameson.”

“Because you have a feeling.”

“That's it.”

“Sometimes you worry me, Rob.”

They sat for about five minutes. Then Burke's truck came around the corner. It skidded to a halt. Robin got out of the Bronco. Burke drove slowly up to him. Doug's truck came around the corner.

Burke stopped and rolled down his window. “Hi, Sarge.” He had a big grin on his face.

“I guess I don't have to ask what you're doing here.”

“Probably a waste of time.” Burke still grinned.

“Where's Emmett and Rick?”

“Oh, they're coming. They stopped in Patagonia to make some phone calls.” Ernie got out of the Bronco and stood next to Robin. He saw Rocky and Marv in the back of the crew cab.

“Goddammit, you two! Get your asses back to Phoenix!”

“Now, Ernie, don't get pissed,” Rocky replied. “You know damn good and well we have just as much right to be here as you two do. Andy and Cathy are family to us too and the rest of the guys.”

“Whaddya mean ‘the rest of guys?’”

“Everyone is here. Both squads.” Marv nudged Rocky. “Oh yeah, Carlos too.”

“Carlos!” Robin exclaimed.

“Yep. He talked Emmett into it,” Burke said. Emmett's truck came speeding around the corner and skidded to a halt. It drove up to the group. Rick got out and walked up to Robin.

“Cathy is okay for now, Rob. I got word from Jorge.”