SEAL Team Bravo: Black Ops VI - Guantanamo (22 page)

"Eva, get under cover!" he shouted.

She didn't reply, but he saw her crawl behind a wooden crate. He was working out the next move when the last Colombian shouted.

"I have your man. You want to live; you toss your guns away and leave. I'll give you thirty seconds, then he dies."

Will! How did the
other guy get the drop on him?

He saw movement, and Bryce climbed to his feet, with the Colombian hiding behind him. He waved to them.

"I'm okay. Don't worry about me."

Eva took the opportunity to slide back to his position.

"I'm sorry, Nolan. It was my fault. That guy was about to kill me. He saw his friend go down and went to take the shot. I saw Will break cover to save my life."

"We'll handle it. Where's Ryder?"

"I haven't seen him, not since we entered the warehouse."

"Shit. We need every man to bring down this character."

"Can't we just do as he says?" she asked, "It would save Will's life."

"Negative. The moment we leave, he'll kill him." He turned to Brad. "How's the shoulder?"

"No sweat. What do you want me to do?"

"Try and distract the bastard. As soon as he exposes enough of his body, I'll take him."

"If either of them moves, you could hit Will. It could be dangerous."

"It's called war. You ready? Do anything, stand up, wave to him, give him the finger; I don't care. Just get his eyes on you. I'll do the rest."

"Roger that."

The man shouted again, "Thirty seconds, time's up! Toss your guns and get out now, or he dies."

Nolan nodded to Brad. "Do it."

It all happened in slow motion. Brad Rose eased to his feet and called across to the Colombian. Nolan started to slide across to one side where there may be a chance at a shot. Will moved suddenly, trying to break free. The shooter had his weapon pointed at Brad. He shifted his aim to Will's head and shouted a curse in Spanish. Nolan stood to take the shot, regardless of risk. The hostile sneered and shifted his aim again. This time he had the drop on Nolan, who couldn't shoot without hitting Will.

Ryder came up behind him, a dark wraith. Death from the shadows, a ghostly figure that one moment wasn't there, the next was plunging his knife into the Colombian's neck, but his finger was already tightening on the trigger.

Will pulled free and jerked aside, as a shot cracked out and sliced through the skin of his ear, tearing a slice from the lobe. The man was already dying, but Ryder swung his blade down repeatedly, gouging flesh from his victim's throat. It was as if he was dissecting the man for some crazy science experiment.

Nolan raced across the warehouse and dragged him off.

"He's done, John-Wesley. Leave him."

Ryder was panting, his eyes glazed with excitement and religious fervor.

"I will rid evil beasts out of the land, neither shall the sword go through your land," he raved, his voice hoarse and clogged with passion. He kept trying to return to the lifeless corpse that lay bleeding on the dusty floor, but Nolan stopped him.

"John-Wesley, leave it! We need to get out of here."

He led him gently away, and the man was still mumbling biblical verses. He left him with Evers and Eva, returning to Will who was twisting around, trying to stop blood dripping from his ear.

 
He helped him tie a strip of cloth around the wound, and they rejoined the others. Ryder had calmed, and Evers was on his satphone. He ended the call and grinned.

"I described everything to Jerry. He's getting a squad of his people here to check it all out. He said to say thanks. He'll move up at least a notch in the pecking order at DEA."

"He deserved a break, helping us with that plane. As long as no one misses it."

He shook his head. "Jerry said they'd forgotten it was even there. Anyone asks; it went for scrap."

"Ain't it the truth?"

He smiled. "What do we do now? I guess the fugitives have long gone."

"No question. But we need to know where they went, and more important, what they're up to."

"There're offices upstairs. There may be something there to help us."

"Lead the way."

There was only one office and a rest room with a coffee maker and an icebox stocked with food. He went down the stairs and told them the good news. While he and Evers rifled the office next door for documents, Eva went through the cupboards and icebox, and prepared hot coffee, sandwiches, and doughnuts for them.

They drew a blank in the office. There were only documents and invoices relating to the maintenance of the building. Unsurprisingly, Montez was too smart to allow anything incriminating to be left lying around. He could replace his product, but anything tying it to him would result in arrest and imprisonment, which was less easy to evade.

 
Nolan made himself comfortable in a battered armchair, and Eva handed him a mug of hot coffee. He immediately felt better, and then a plate of junk food appeared, better still. She sat next to him.

"It looks to me as if your operation is finished. They've gone, and we've no way of tracking them, not now."

"Maybe. We can assume they're headed for New York City, so we'll have to find a way to get there."

"What if the target is Washington? Or Boston, or any other major city?"

"No. It all points to New York. That's where we'll find them."

"How will you get there? The Colombian government will still have a warrant for your arrest and extradition."

"I guess they will." He called the CIA man over.

"Evers, how are we fixed for travel inside the US?"

"You mean legitimately?"

"Yes."

"As far as I know, the Colombian warrant still holds. No one wants to take the chance of offending them; so technically, you could be arrested and sent back. It may not happen, but it's a hell of a risk. You're sure to show up on their lists when you go through check in. I assume we're talking about flying?"

"Yeah. Listen, I need to borrow your satphone. There's one man who should be able to fix this."

Moments later, he was punching in the cell number for Rear Admiral Drew Jacks. The voice that answered his phone was unfamiliar.

"Admiral Jacks' residence."

"Who is this?"

A pause. "Lieutenant Rogers, Sir. Whom am I speaking to?"

"A friend. Put the Admiral on the phone."

"I can't do that, I'm sorry."

"You can't? Isn't he at home?"

"Yes, Sir, he's here."

"So give him the phone."

"I can't do that."

"Why not? For Christ's sake, Lieutenant, this is an emergency."

The voice was cold and formal. "Rear Admiral Drew Jacks is under house arrest, pending court martial."

"Jacks! That's impossible."

"It happens to be true. Sorry, but I can't help you."

He disconnected the call, and Nolan heard the empty buzz on the line. They were all staring at him.

"It's Jacks. He's been arrested."

"Shit! What for?"

He shook his head. "I don't know, but it means we have to go without him."

They sat in stunned silence. They'd got this far without any military backing. Save for Evers' help, they'd been on their own. Before there was always Admiral Jacks somewhere in the background, ready to weigh in when things got out of hand. Except now, he was out of the picture.

"I'll make more coffee," Eva said, more for something to do. She refilled his mug, and he took a sip, trying to put it all into context. And failing.

"There's something we're missing here. Evers, any chance you could contact your people and find out what's going on?"

He looked miserable. "I didn't like to say anything, but Jerry Jackson passed me a warning when I spoke to him. The word is out, if I contact anyone from law enforcement, that person is to order me to report to our local office and to notify CIA. He said he'd keep quiet about my call but said to watch my back. I can't do anything."

"Great." He turned away bitterly and saw a portable television in the corner of the restroom. He walked over and switched it on.

"What's the deal?" Will chuckled, "You think CNN may tell us what we need to know. If they..."

He stopped. There and then, it all clicked into place. The image of the Statue of Liberty appeared on the screen, with a superimposed image of President Anderson. They listened to the voice of the anchor.

'In other news, President Anderson will open the revamped Statue of Liberty in two days time. The President will sail across the Hudson, around Ellis Island, and land on Liberty Island for the commemoration. Security is expected to be..."

"Oh fuck!" he breathed, "The Statue of Liberty, and the President. A single hit. Dear God."

Evers shook his head. "You can't be sure. It's just a guess."

They looked at him in astonishment.

"Are you sure you work for CIA?" Will asked him, "I mean, you put everything together, and what other conclusion could you come to? Take out Liberty and the President in one blast. Christ, it would set this country back to God knows when."

"It has to be this," Nolan told him, "Nothing else fits the facts. Think about it, Evers. A bunch of Islamist suicide bombers heading for New York City. Their speedboat was due to be loaded on board a waiting cargo vessel. Presumably, they'll offload it when they're a few miles offshore. A fast run up the Hudson, and they could detonate before anyone knows they're there."

"But our security, it'll be enormous. How could they penetrate it?"

"Easy. People won't be expecting it, and it takes time to react. If this boat is really fast, they could do it, reach the President as he steps ashore, and detonate a massive bomb enough to destroy everything within a five hundred meter radius."

He was still shaking his head. "I don't buy it. A bomb that large, it would be, well, the size of a truck."

"That's a negative," Will argued, "We have plenty of modern munitions that could do the job, so you can bet the terrorists have them, too. As for the boat, there are a few modern powerboats fast enough to run in under the noses of the security cordon. They could hit the target almost before anyone realizes what's happening. Seventy, eighty knots, it's not impossible."

"We have to stop them," Nolan said, as much to himself, "The first problem is getting to New York."

"You've forgotten something," Vega added quietly, "This is timed for forty-eight hours from now. We have to get to New York mighty fast, and there's no way we can use air travel. It'll have to be by road. How far is it?"

"Two thousand klicks," Evers said instantly. He looked back at them as they stared at him, "It was a feasibility project I did a while back. Say, thirteen hundred miles. We could drive it in twenty-four hours, no sweat."

"There are three SUVs outside, and I doubt they have any use for them. Forget the vehicle with the M-60; we could take the other two, in case we have a breakdown. We'd better get on the road."

Will went out with Brad to drive back and collect the third SUV, while they checked around the warehouse for anything that may be useful. But apart from the drugs, there were only innocuous documents that were no help at all. They prepared to mount up. They'd taken the weapons and spare ammunition from the guards they'd shot, and Eva put together all the food and drink she could find for the journey.

The plan was to travel almost non-stop, taking turns on the wheel. If all went well, they'd arrive in the city with the day to spare before the attack. If it didn't go well, there'd be time to put things right. Just before they boarded the vehicles, Evers' satphone rang. He listened for a moment and handed it to Nolan.

"It's for you. Admiral Jacks."

He took the phone and listened for a few moments. For the first time, Jacks explained what had happened.

"You didn't have the go-ahead? Jesus Christ, Admiral, what were you thinking?"

"I was thinking of a threat to the United States, and you four men rotting in a Panamanian jail. I just put two and two together. I assumed you'd come up with something, and that's why you phoned. What's the deal?"

He quickly explained where they were, how they got there, and where they were going. When he spelt out their conclusions about the attack, Jacks was silent for several seconds.

"The Statue of Liberty, and the President! It defies belief."

"Yeah, that's about what we thought. It's why we have to stop it. For some reason, the people that should be taking action are sitting on their asses, and the rest of them are chasing us."

"I hear you. What's the plan?"

Nolan told him they were leaving for the long drive to New York City, and they'd tackle it when they got there.

"How? If these characters are on board a ship several miles offshore, they won't be easy to reach. Not without involving the US Coastguard. And it seems to me, they're more likely to throw you in the pokey than listen to what you're trying to do."