The Traveler (10 page)

“Oh, but we must protest this action,” he said without much enthusiasm. “I must report this incursion immediately.” The ambassador stood as did the director of the FBI.

“Before you report to your president, may I offer you some lunch?” he asked as the ambassador buttoned his coat.

“I must report this.” The man looked at his watch.

“But it's chicken-fried steak day here at Foggy Bottom.”

The Mexican ambassador allowed his lips to form a wry smile. “Well, how can I say no to that.” The ambassador allowed the head of the American FBI to escort him to the cafeteria.

The secretary of state lifted his phone and then waited. It was answered on the first ring.

“It's done, Mr. President. Maybe you can explain to me later just why this American citizen is important enough to invade a friendly country.”

The President of the United States never answered the secretary. He just said thanks and hung up the phone with the hopes that his friend Niles Compton knew what he was doing.

RIO NATCHEZ CORRECTIONAL FACILITY, NORTHERN MEXICO

Richie Gutiérrez stood with glass in hand. He puffed on his cigar as all eyes were raised to the balcony. He quickly noticed something in the yard below.

“Why are there sixteen inmates when the order was for fifteen?” he asked as his glass lowered and he looked at the warden, who had been caught off guard by the quick observation.

He scanned the exercise yard and saw the man who was not on the list given to him that morning by Gutiérrez. He pointed at the small man standing behind their prized inmate, Morales. The tattoo made the man easy to spot.

“You, who are you?” the warden called down. Every prisoner in the yard looked around, thinking that the warden was talking directly to them.

Commander Jason Ryan, United States Navy, smiled as he released his grip on the wheelchair handles. He smiled his gold-plated smile at those shocked inmates around him. Then Ryan turned his attention to the balcony rising above him and the others. He hoped the inside team was ready because he was about to kick this show off to a great start—a start that if it didn't work would ensure that he and his rescue element would never leave northern Mexico with breath in their lungs.

“Me?” Ryan asked, looking around as if confused. He took a few steps beyond the chair. He didn't use Spanish or anything near that language's accent. “I'm nobody compared to the great Jefe, Señor Gutiérrez,” he said as he half turned to the kid in the chair. “Make sure your parking brake isn't on, kid.”

“What?” Morales said as he watched the confrontation frightened out of his mind. He had thought he was brave enough to get through this but the continuing roar of the caged animals made him weaken at the prospect of Gutiérrez justice. “Who are you?” he hissed.

Ryan took a few more steps forward.

“My boss told me to pass along to Mr. Gutiérrez a message,” Ryan called up, and then waited for a smiling Gutiérrez, who was curious as to the delay, but not angered—yet. The cartel leader stood with his chipped-ice glass of tequila still in hand.

“And who is your boss? If he is the one responsible for getting you drunk and forcing that tattoo on you, I must say he's not much of a boss, or has a far better sense of humor than even myself.” He laughed as did everyone in the balcony with the exception of the cameraman and soundman, who were still busy doing their jobs.

“My boss”—here he paused for the best dramatic effect possible as Ryan smiled even wider—“is an even bigger prick than you.” The smile faded. “Only he doesn't kill his own people and fill the world with your poison product. He sent me here to explain this to you in no uncertain terms.”

This time Gutiérrez lost his confident grin. The game was quickly growing old.

“I don't want to hear any more, release our friends!” he said, and then smiled down upon the tattooed man.

As the gates that fronted the horse trailers opened, the men inside the yard instinctively moved as far away as they could from what was about to join them. As for Ryan, he also smiled, but for a different reason. He returned to the wheelchair-bound Morales.

“Here we go, kid, welcome to the real world!” Ryan said over the fearful cries of the condemned men crowding around him and Morales.

The sky exploded with sound so loud that everyone froze. The prison's PA system came to life with a vengeance.

Ryan smiled as if he were the Cheshire cat. Then the smile quickly faded as he realized this was not the PSYOPS portion of the rescue's chosen music. Instead of frightening, it was beyond confusing. Ryan had decided he would kill Sarah McIntire and Charlie Ellenshaw as they just butchered Jack Collins's theory on shock and awe.

“Psychological warfare my ass!” Ryan yelled, hoping Ellenshaw could hear him.

Gutiérrez stood again as the music choice by Crazy Charlie Ellenshaw struck his eardrums and assaulted them.

On the overhead speaker system and throughout the prison the song “Sugar, Sugar,” by the bubble-pop band the Archies blared across the yard. That, coupled with the screams of the inmates as the doors to the trailers were finally opened.

“Shoot that man,” Gutiérrez screamed over the blare of the sugarcoated music that was coming near to bursting everyone's eardrums.

Before anyone could react in the confusion, the soundman in the balcony turned and popped a switch on the telescopic microphone boom and a stream of gas issued from the disguised mic. The blue-tinted gas filled the area and dropped two guards immediately.

Gutiérrez was shocked as one of his men fell forward over the balcony and the other just fell. That was when he saw the cameraman turn toward him with his camera and was shocked to see the man wearing a gas mask. Then a compartment on the side of the mini-cam opened and the next thing the cartel leader saw was a nine-millimeter semiautomatic Glock pistol pointed right at his head. The man behind the mask didn't waver as the sound engineer continued his gas assault on the balcony.

Ryan screamed for the men to get down as the music was somehow shoved aside by another, even louder sound.

Before anyone could know what was happening, three American Apache helicopters rose over the eastern, northern, and southern walls of the prison. As the Archies continued to sing on, the chain guns mounted on the nose of each attack chopper opened up. They struck the electrical lines leading into the prison and then one of the Apaches rose a hundred feet and sent a stream of twenty-millimeter rounds into the guard housing next to the cell blocks, effectively keeping any reinforcements from the yard. The second started tearing into the main gate of the facility until the chain-link fence and razor wire hung loosely in utter destruction.

The soundman tossed the now-empty boom over the balcony and studied the warden and the rest of the incapacitated guards. None were moving.

Sarah and Charlie ran from the offices and joined the soundman as he checked everyone to make sure none would spring up and surprise them. Still the Archies sang and the men below cowered.

Ten guards sprang from a blockhouse and started toward the yard. The remaining inmates who had been gathered outside the exercise yard to witness their own eventual fate saw what the guards were attempting and immediately swarmed as each man knew instinctively that something extraordinary was happening and they had to take advantage. The ten armed guards didn't stand a chance against the anger of Gutiérrez's enemies. The Apache gunships circled, looking for any threat that sprang up.

Gutiérrez was standing wide-eyed as the cameraman lowered the nine millimeter and then removed the black gas mask. The black man smiled at him.

“Richard Gutiérrez, we are here to enforce a warrant ordering your arrest,” United States Army Captain Will Mendenhall said as he looked back at U.S. Marine Gunnery Sergeant Jesse Rodriguez as he quickly emptied the harness bag they had brought along. Mendenhall looked at his watch under his gloved hand. “Thirty seconds. Sarah, give the gunny a hand, will you? Charlie, you and I have to talk about what represents PSYOPS operations and its intended distraction media. The Archies is not among the chosen selections to frighten your adversary.”

“I will have you all tracked down and killed in your homes with your entire families!” Gutiérrez said as he watched the strangers unroll a large set of nylon harnesses.

Will Mendenhall, after being interrupted by the cartel leader and his threat, looked at Gutiérrez and then simply raised the gun and hit him in the forehead with the gun, sending him grimacing as he fell back onto his ornate emperor's throne.

“It's very rude to interrupt,” he said as his eyes lingered for only a moment on the man. He turned back to Ellenshaw, who was not smiling even though he knew he had screwed up. “We'll talk later, Doc. Now help get this asshole prepared to fly.”

Charlie did as he was told.

Jason Ryan started frantically pushing Morales and his chair forward through the frightened inmates. He was screaming for the condemned men to make a break for the gates and the prison parking lot beyond. He heard the Apaches open up somewhere to his right and hoped there wasn't wholesale killing going on. After all it wasn't Gutiérrez's henchmen they were after, it was only Morales and the leader of the most brutal drug cartel since the Cali, Colombia, extremes of the eighties. He made sure that the guards tending to the wild animals in their cages were either eliminated or on the run, then he went to the direct center of the yard and waited, feeling very exposed to whatever guards made it past the circling Apaches.

With the blare of noise coming from the Archies and the powerful twin engines of the Apaches, no one heard the deeper bass rumble of something much larger as it approached the prison. Men ran and screamed as the giant Chinook double-rotor transport helicopter broke over the height of the south wall. The rotor wash of the large CH-47 heavy-lift chopper knocked men from their feet as they ran away frightened from the American black ops display confronting them. The harness struck the ground near Ryan and he immediately took hold and started strapping the shocked and frightened computer genius to the harness. The wide-eyed young man made no sound other than to scream when Ryan faced him.

“Now don't move until you're told,” he said.

“But who in the hell are you!”

“Bye, kid, nice meeting ya!”

Morales was about to ask again when his world went away. He and his chair were pulled so violently upward that he knew he had left his stomach somewhere rolling on the ground with Ryan. As for Jason he had to smile as the screams of the young selection of computer science department head were heard even over the noise of the music and engine assault. The harness held as the boy and his chair flew skyward toward the hovering Chinook. Ryan made sure the kid was pulled in by the CH-47's crew and then he made his way toward the double gates that held the prisoners inside. He opened them and started moving inmates free of the yard. As he did he looked at the three horse trailers and that was when Jason Ryan really smiled.

In the balcony above the action, Sarah, Charlie, and Rodriguez had Gutiérrez ready to ascend into the blue skies above Mexico. The man finally opened his eyes against the pain of Mendenhall's rebuke with the pistol. The dark eyes widened when he saw the black American looking down at him. He was about to scream something over the noise of the Archies when Mendenhall held up his right hand and just simply waved good-bye as Gutiérrez burst into the sky, ripping the makeshift shade cover from the prepared balcony. Will smiled and then attached his own lines as did the other three. He saw Ryan as he stood just below with his own harness attached and waiting.

“Hey, toss down the warden and his men!” Jason screamed at a confused Will. Then he saw his friend's smile and knew exactly what he had planned. With the help of Ramirez, Sarah, and an angry Ellenshaw, the five men were eased to the asphalt below by rope.

As inmates freed themselves from the prison, Jason Ryan, United States Navy, looked down at his handiwork and with the large tattoo gleaming its glorious colors in the sun he gave the signal. The second CH-47 Chinook lifted him, Sarah, Rodriguez, and Mendenhall free of the ground, and with four personnel hanging from the giant bird, slowly made their way north toward the border. Operation Alcatraz was now complete.

*   *   *

Ten minutes later the prison warden awakened with a fright at about the same time as his guards and Gutiérrez's henchmen. With wide eyes and loosened bladder they watched the black-coated Yucatán jaguars as they started creeping toward the spot where they had been deposited. Just before the first sleek cat lowered its ears to spring, he saw the scrawled note between his splayed legs. He read it and then looked up just as the five wildcats started forward with hungry intent. As the freed men ran into the surrounding countryside and the remaining prison guards decided they needed to find new work, the small note blew away in the wind and only the warden of Rio Natchez Prison would ever know what it said: “Compliments of the Greater Nevada Historical Society.”

 

2

BLACKSMITH ENGINEERING CONSULTANTS, SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA

The woman waited inside the idling taxicab until she spied her target. She lowered her dark glasses and took in the familiar figure of the man she had known now for eight years. She smiled and then pushed the sunglasses back up her slim nose. She straightened her skirt, then gave the cabdriver a twenty-dollar bill, and took a deep breath as she readied for the confrontation that had been coming for many years. She opened the door and with her briefcase in hand started to follow the broad-shouldered object of this covert visit as he took his brown-paper-bag lunch to the nearby park area.

Assistant Director of Department 5656 Virginia Pollock waited while the brutish little man chose a tree to sit under. She again lowered the sunglasses as the man saw three squirrels frolicking under the protection of the trees. Like most California squirrels, these were in no mood to move from the shade of the tree and the pinecones it offered. She grimaced as she watched the gray-haired man remove the stub of a cigar from his mouth and then lean over.