COVERT WRITERS TAKEDOWN by Joe Bergeron (best beach reads txt) 📕

nodded.
“Three, we have enemy vectored due east our
position, ninety meters - copy that?”
“One, Affirmative - ninety meters - your vector
- east your position.”
“Three - follow my vector.”
From a web belt around his waist, One
produced an electronic device that looked like a
compass. Laying it on the palm of his right hand, he
stretched his arm toward the veranda.
A red blinking light in the center of the
instrument began pulsating rapidly.
He checked with his pilot.
“Three - I have vector activation - how do you
read?”
Three scanned a guidance system locked into
One’s instrument.
“One - I’m vector Positive.“
“Three - lock on.”
“One - locked.”
One raised his eyes to Two. He could see the
inactive Zero understood what would happen next and
knew what to do to prepare for it. One would need to
verbalize it to the Analyst. 328
He tugged at his shirt.
“Get as flat on the ground as you can, cover
your head, close your eyes, and open your mouth so the
concussion doesn’t blow out your eardrums.”
The metaphysician shivered.
All three assumed the position.
One gave the order
“Three - I want twin Hell Fire in seven, six,
five, four, three, two, one, Zero.”
In the predawn darkness, the eleven guards on
the Vice President’s veranda would initially hold the
thought that the screaming Hellfire missiles were low,
twin shooting stars.
Coming toward them at fifteen hundred miles
an hour, the recognition of reality allowed them about
one and one half seconds to react.
Five of the Cubans had enough time to drop
their weapons. Three others were able to take two
steps sideways, and three just stood frozen.
The explosion of the impacting missiles lifted
the villa off its foundation.
One, Two and Four were thrown a foot into the
air.
What was left of the eleven men on the porch
was now being consumed in flames.
Inside the villa on the first floor, three troops
who’d remained inside were knocked unconscious by the
concussion. The oak floor in the foyer was on fire, as
was the staircase leading to the second floor.
On the second floor of the villa, five people
standing in one room were thrown against, and on top
of various pieces of furniture. A gaping hole had
appeared in the southeast corner of the room revealing
through its emptiness the library below. Patrick
McKenzie, his two Cuban bodyguards, Miguel Belize
and Catalina Salazar were all bleeding from either the
mouth or nose.
329
One reviewed the team.
“Three - you’re strike positive - hold your
position.”
“Three - roger.”
“Two - status?”
“Two’s alert.”
“Four - status?”
“Damn - yeah - OK - shit.”
One and Two un-shouldered their Uzi’s, flipped
off the safeties, and kicked first rounds into the firing
chambers.
Two addressed Four. His words, not only
reassuring, but also unequivocally accepted.
“Stay close to me.”
One informed Three of their intended
movements
“Three, One, we’re going in - stand by.”
“One, Three - copy that.”
One looked at Two.
“Let’s go.”
Raising themselves, the two commandos and
one civilian dashed toward a rear entrance door that
had been blown off its hinges. Inside, they realized
they were in the villas kitchen. Pots, dishes, glasses
and silverware lay scattered and broken on the counters
and floor.
A hallway led from the kitchen to the front part
of the villa.
Sliding with their backs against the walls,
Uzi’s held in firing position, One and Two moved along
the corridor with Four close in tow.
The library appeared to their left. It was
smoke-filled, books and wall decorations appeared to
have been randomly tossed to the floor. A large hole
had been ripped in its ceiling.
Having reached the end of the hallway, they
noticed the three guards laying unconscious. Two,
retrieving their weapons, threw them onto the front
veranda, now burning out of control. 330
One had checked the remaining downstairs
rooms. He’d seen no sign of any remaining threat, and
had noticed a back access to the second floor off a
servants’ dining room.
One addressed Two and Four.
“We got about six minutes to find our cargo.
There’s a stairway back here, c’mon.”
No chatter followed.
At the top landing of the back stairway,
another hallway appeared. Very wide, they could count
six rooms leading onto and off it.
Heat was building throughout the villa.
Smoke drifting from the staircase at its far end
was filling the unoccupied space. Pieces of the ceiling
were scattered on the carpet runner. Two large
paintings thrown to the floor, had had their glass
protection shattered. All the trash would make noise as
they stepped on it while making their way to each room.
From about halfway down the hall a door
opened.
A man, uniformed, drifted into the open space,
one hand holding an automatic rifle, the other a radio.
One, Two and Four stood motionless. Although
they were clearly visible, he hadn’t seen them yet.
The guard raised his radio to his mouth.
He queried eleven dead, and three unconscious
troops.
“Where are you?”
One made the next decision.
In one move, he dropped his weapon and began
a charge toward the guard. His right hand was
swinging the wire line secured at both ends by two inch
steel balls.
Although hazy from the explosion of the
missiles, the guard could not help but hear the Zero
only thirty feet away. Dropping his radio, he turned to
address, and fire on the form approaching him. It was
too late.
331
One had released the steel ball from his hand.
The spinning projectile reached the guard’s neck in two
seconds, wrapping itself around his throat, severing
both his jugular veins.
In a fit of frenzy, the Cuban grasped at what
would inevitably cause his death. One, throwing
himself on his target, produced a formerly sheathed
knife, burying it into his chest cavity.
Two pushed off the wall moving rapidly toward
One. He knew his lead man was out of weapons, and
there would probably be more confrontation. Holding
his own Uzi in his right hand, he recovered One’s with
his left.
Twenty feet - twenty five feet.
Another guard appeared.
This one had his arm wrapped around Patrick
McKenzie’s neck, and a pistol jammed against his ear.
One was closest - his assessment was extreme
danger for the team.
He had to let the Cuban set the agenda.
Two, thinking the same thing, halted his
movement, dropping one weapon. Four - thirty feet
behind couldn’t believe he was looking at Pat McKenzie.
Two recognized the guard and thought to
himself.
‘Cardinal.’
Backing away from the three Americans,
McKenzie still in his grasp, Cardinal soon realized the
impossibility of retreating by the main staircase. He
felt he had control by virtue of his hostage.
“Drop your weapons.”
His English surprised Four.
There were few choices. One, Two, and Four
complied.
Moving toward them again, Cardinal turned to
speak toward the open door where he’d just appeared.
“Come.”
Miguel Belize and Catalina Salazar appeared
in the hallway. 332
The VP held a pistol in his right hand, his left
holding the right hand of his mistress. Perusing the
three stationery Americans, the Cubans and their
hostage inched their way toward the enemy.
One and Two both knew what they would do
were the tables turned.
Eliminate and escape.
The situation was unacceptable to both.
Although they had no weapons in hand - they did have
firepower available. One decided to use his resource to
call in friendly fire on their own position. The filmy
smoke in the hallway would obscure his lip movements.
He’d only need to whisper.
“Three, One, need single hydra support, same
vector – now.”
The chopper commander replied.
“Roger - Hydra - same vector in six, five, four,
three, two, one, Zero.”
Two and Four, having heard the call braced
themselves, mouths open.
One’s assessment of the forming hallway
confrontation had been correct. Cardinal, still retaining
McKenzie in a choke hold had straightened his arm and
was now aiming his weapon at One’s head.
The active Zero didn’t move, hoping he had at
least one second before the Cuban pulled the trigger.
He did.
The Hydra rocket screamed onto the burning
porch just a half meter to the right of where the Hell
Fire missiles had struck.
The rocket’s impact threw the seven live people
in the hallway against its walls and into the air.
The two Zeros, having expected the explosion,
were first up.
They both covered the distance between them
and the Cubans in three seconds.
333
One passed Cardinal, his attention focused on
Belize. Two, directly behind him, took the guard, his
fist crashing into the bridge of Cardinal’s nose, and
shortly thereafter, his boot finding the Cuban’s
stomach.
Belize was overpowered easily. One had
jammed the VP’s right arm behind his back causing his
shoulder to dislocate.
Salazar stood against the wall eyeing the
various weapons on the hallway’s floor. Four had been
moving toward her but was unable to reach her before
she dove to secure one of the pistols. She came up firing
wildly.
Her first round struck the wall across from her
about six feet off the floor. Continuing to fire, her next
round found a target, Four. She’d blown a hole through
his shirt, the round digging a quarter inch trench along
his bicep.
Four, frightened by the firings, but acting on
instinct, continued his lunge at the Cuban beauty.
The last round she got off was lethal.
She’d delivered a nine millimeter hollow point
into the back of Cardinal’s neck, its exit tearing out his
throat.
Four, grabbing her gun hand threw his body
against the woman’s sending both of them crashing into
the wall. She’d dropped the weapon during the
struggle.
One and Two hustled to kick any weapons out
of everyone’s range of reach.
Two secured McKenzie and addressed Four.
“Follow me.”
One moved to collect Belize and Salazar.
He indicated the far staircase.
“Go.”
Outside, on the northern end of the front lawn,
One was hand tying Belize and Salazar back to back
with electrical wire ties.
334
The flames engulfing the villa brought Three back into
the picture.
“One, Three - do you need assistance?”
“Three, One - copy that - come to fire site -
North lawn.”
“Copy that - ETA fifty seconds.”
The entire ground operation, thought to be
complete, was not over.
Three truckloads of Cuban Elite Guards were
rushing toward the villa, their Commander having been
contacted at his barracks by Belize following his
abbreviated conversation with Courtney.
From the air, Three caught sight of their
headlights approaching the villa.
“One, Three - I have three bogeys coming at
you from the East - looks like deuce and a halfs.”
“Three, One - what’s the timing?”
“Close.”
“Keep coming.”
“I can eat their lunch right now.”
“Negative - keep coming.”
“Copy that.”
One, having secured the VP and Salazar,
motioned to his two team members and McKenzie to
follow him away from the landing pattern of the
approaching Huey.
Four grabbed One’s arm and indicated Belize
and Salazar.
“I need one minute with them.”
“Sixty seconds, we leave.”
One joined Two and McKenzie.
Courtney pulled the Colt from its holster and
cocked the hammer. Shoving it into Catalina Salazar’s
mouth, he addressed the VP.
“You heard him - give me a name in the states
and I let you go. Take more than five seconds and I
blow her brains out, and then yours.
335
Eyes widened, he only needed three of the five seconds.
“George Tollman.”
Courtney, un-cocking the 42, holstered his
weapon.
Securing a knife from his leg sheath, he cut
their bonds and scrambled to join his team members.
The sound of the Huey’s rotors filled the air.
Three landed on the lawn seventy feet from
where Four had just released the VP and his mistress