Choke Point

TEN

Fully submersible and semi-submersible narcosubmarines were being built beneath the triple canopy in some of Colombia’s most remote, jungle-infested regions. Narrow waterways shrouded by vegetation cut through the mangrove swamps and led to dry docks constructed along the rivers. Within these often sophisticated structures, fully operational subs were produced from parts cannibalized from around the world and often under the supervision of ‘freelance’ Russian engineers being paid handsomely for their knowledge. The subs cost upwards of four million dollars to build and carried literally six to ten tons of cocaine to Mexico and elsewhere, with much of it eventually bound for the United States and Europe.

This particular boat, whose diesel engine had warmed enough to be spotted through her hull, shimmered like an albino crocodile drawn by the drone’s FLIR. She was more than thirty meters long, Ross estimated, and nearly three meters high from deck plates to ceiling. Assumedly, she had twin screws and cruised at more than twenty kilometers per hour, judging from her size. Once out in the ocean, she’d submerge to thirty meters, and her fiberglass construction would make her virtually undetectable to radar. If she was like other narcosubs Ross had studied, she’d be manned by a crew of four: a captain, a navigator, and two machinists, who’d keep the engines and other devices in good working order. Even with a full load of cocaine, her range was probably about three thousand miles, well within the reach of the United States. Conditions aboard the sub would be horrible. The men would be confined to a space no larger than ten feet by ten. They would live off junk food and breathe in diesel fumes all day and night. They would work in shifts, and with every miserable hour that passed, they’d think about the half-million dollars they were earning as a team to transport product with a half-billion-dollar street value.

Presently, the hatch was flipped open on the sub’s two-meter tall sail, and a rifleman stood in the conning tower. Above him rose some kind of video periscope protected behind a clear glass dome, a kind of homemade, off-the-shelf-looking device that struck Ross as both bold and ingenious.

‘Locking in the GPS coordinates now,’ said Kozak. ‘Sending them back to higher if I can. Wait, damn!’

‘What is it?’

‘Lost contact again.’

‘Kozak, bring in the drone before we lose it.’

‘Might be too late.’

‘Do what you can. 30K, find us some valet parking about half a klick north, thank you.’

‘Roger that.’

Ross shared their discovery with Captain Jiménez, who was less than enthusiastic about attacking this new outpost. ‘The FARC rebels are tough, Captain, but Los Rastrojos are very highly trained. Some of them defected from my group, and others come from the Sinaloa Cartel in Mexico. Others are former Los Zetas, the most ruthless of all. I’m sure this camp is very well defended.’

‘I’m sure it is. But we have the storm on our side. You’re not bailing on me, are you, Captain?’

‘Of course not. I just wanted you to know that if there is a hell in Colombia, then this is it.’

‘I appreciate that, Captain.’

‘I hope you do, because one of my men has just died.’

Ross hesitated. ‘I’m sorry about that. I really am. Stand by. Ross, out.’

‘He ain’t thrilled, huh?’ Pepper asked.

‘One of his guys died. He says we’re going into hell.’

Pepper shrugged. ‘Just another day in paradise, but I’ll say this — we need to hit that camp from both sides of the river. Let’s assume they know we’re coming. They don’t know exactly when … or how … so that’s how we get ’em.’

Ross smiled tightly. ‘I think I know what you have in mind.’

Pepper hoisted his brows and nodded.

Ross’s tablet beeped, and Major Mitchell returned to the video link window. ‘Delta Dragon, you want the bad news? Or the bad news?’

‘It’s all right, sir. Storm’s here. Eyes in the sky aren’t much help, I know. But it’s not all bad. Here’s the latest intel we’ve received from the drone.’

Mitchell glanced away to study the images. After a few seconds he looked up and asked, ‘You got a plan?’

Kozak was a heartbeat away from throwing the drone’s remote out the window. ‘I think it’s stuck in a tree,’ he cried, still unable to regain a link. He’d managed to lock on to the UAV’s locator beacon, an emergency provision if she lost power or was damaged in battle. The beacon had an independent battery and could broadcast the drone’s GPS coordinates and elevation, which it was doing at the moment.

‘You’ll have to get your little toy later,’ said 30K.

‘You know what the major says — no footprints. So we gotta go back.’

‘Yeah, dude, whatever, we’ll do that later. Hey, that looks good up there, what do you think?’ 30K pointed to an opening in the forest on their right side where the trees seemed to part like a doorway.

‘Do it,’ said Kozak, clutching his seat as the Hummer jostled up, off the road and on to the slightly higher ground off the path. They sliced through the underbrush until 30K believed he’d traveled sufficiently far to allow the whole convoy to pull off the road.

‘Check the range,’ he told Kozak, who compared their current coordinates with those of the narcosub camp. ‘Half a klick, on the money. Who’s the man?’

Kozak looked at 30K and in a deadpan answered, ‘Captain Ross. But then again he said that Pepper was the man.’

30K rolled his eyes. ‘Get outta here.’

Kozak opened the door –

And stepped into the torrential rain, the wind suddenly whipping him away from the Hummer and toward a cluster of trees. ‘Holy —’ The rest of his curse was drowned out by another gust that sent him leaning forward at a forty-five-degree angle.

Toto was already road pizza. The wicked witch was somewhere in Siberia, plucking waffles, iPods and family photos from her hair. This was, in Kozak’s expert opinion, friggin’ nuts and a far cry from the good old days on Brighton Beach Avenue, chasing after those cute girls from Long Island who’d come down and act like tourists.

‘Team, this is Ghost Lead. Listen up,’ said Ross.

Kozak had to turn up his Cross-Com’s volume against the howling wind and thrashing of branches.

While the captain went over the plan, a computer-generated map of the base appeared in their HUDs. The map had been created via intel gathered by the UAV. That was the kind of spot-on, up-to-the-second intelligence analysis they needed, the kind of data that kept them one step ahead of the enemy. Ross designated all of their targets and presented the AFEUR troops with their own overwatch and attack orders.

There was one word that Ross used twice, a dirty word that Kozak never liked to hear prior to a mission:

Booby trap.

Triggering one would blow the team’s cover and get themselves killed without permission. ‘Don’t do that,’ Ross had said. They’d all seen too many good men lose their lives or get maimed because the enemy wasn’t man enough to face them.

When Ross was finished, Kozak called him and said, ‘Ghost Lead, I have one more idea. I think our primary drone is stuck in a tree — which gets me thinking: let me park the secondary up in a tree near those buildings.’

‘I like your style, Kozak. Do it,’ he ordered.

Kozak grinned inwardly, then reached back into the drone holster attached to his utility belt and hanging from his right hip. The secondary UAV’s rotors were folded inward, shrinking the craft into a Frisbee-size package that was deployed in nearly the same fashion.

‘Okay, baby, don’t let me down,’ he whispered.

And with that he tugged out the UAV and tossed it into the air. The quadrotors automatically expanded and activated, and the drone lifted off, veering chaotically into the night. Kozak plugged in the target zone, and now the drone would fly automatically to that area and hover, awaiting its next command — if it didn’t crash first.

‘Ghost Lead, the drone’s deployed,’ he said, then he jogged up behind 30K, who was already slipping furtively into the jungle. ‘Hey, bro, you ready for this?’

‘What do you think?’

‘If anything happens —’

‘Dude, now you sound like Pepper,’ said 30K. ‘We only need one prophet of doom on this team.’

‘Pepper’s not like that.’

‘You ain’t been around him long enough. Trust me.’

‘Well, if anything happens to me —’

‘Look, we’re going in there to get our package and get out. These punks with water pistols don’t stand a chance. They’re waiting on line to get some from the United States Army. You read me?’

‘Hell to the yeah,’ said Kozak.

He knew exactly how to draw a pep talk out of 30K, one that always made him feel better before the first shot was fired.

And speaking of first shots, Ross had been emphatic about that. No screwups. The captain had even painted the post-op picture for them:

Later on, after the raid, when the rebels found their dead and dying comrades, one of them — about to die himself — would look up into the burning eyes of his commander, shudder, and say, ‘We never saw them.’