Warriors from the Ashes Page 10

  After a moment, she drew back with a deep sigh. “Better quit, while I still can,” she whispered.

  “You think they’d miss us if I picked you up and carried you off into the jungle,” Coop asked, his voice husky with desire.

  Jersey was saved from answering by the approach of Hammer, Harley, and Anna, their arms full of clothing and weapons and other gear for the trip.

  Jersey and Coop quickly slipped into their BDUs and boots while the others kept watch.

  “I figure they’ll be here for Higgins any minute, so let’s make tracks outta here,” Harley said.

  “Wait a minute,” Jersey said. “Won’t they notice we’re not here when they come for Mingo?”

  Anna shook her head. “No, we fixed up our bunks with pillows to look as if we were still in them.”

  “Let’s travel, people,” Harley whispered, his voice urgent as he turned to lead them into the jungle. “We’ve got a lot of ground to cover,” he said, glancing over his shoulder, “and we don’t know how long until you two get too sick to travel.”

  As they moved off into the darkness, with Jersey and Coop well back from the others, Coop asked, “Any chance of getting the communications gear and having them pick us up in a chopper?”

  Harley shook his head. “Too risky. They could track the chopper and it’d lead them right to the ship. No, we’re gonna have to do this the old-fashioned way and walk home.”

  “Just what I was looking forward too, a leisurely traipse through the jungle at night,” Coop said, glancing nervously around him at the thick underbrush surrounding them.

  Jersey quietly reached out and took his hand as they walked. She idly rubbed at the spot on her chest where the BW had stained her shirt. Her skin was already beginning to itch, but she thought that was probably just her imagination.

  Mingo Higgins’s head lolled on his chest, blood dripping from his shattered nose onto the concrete floor between his bare feet. His hands were tied behind the back of the chair he was sitting on.

  Bruno Bottger stood before him, his eyes glittering hate as he questioned the merc. “Who sent you here?” he shouted, slapping Higgins awake again.

  Higgins answered through swollen, split lips. “No one,” he said, his voice barely intelligible.

  “Why did you break into my lab?”

  Higgins shook his head, the movement making him wince as waves of pain shot through every part of his body. “I already told you, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Bottger scowled and stepped back, allowing Sergeant Herman Bundt to step forward. Bundt’s hands were covered with padded black gloves, and he delivered two quick blows to Higgins’s face, snapping his head back and shattering his two front teeth.

  Bottger took a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped away blood that splattered onto his boots.

  “I think it is time for the chemicals,” he said.

  “But, Herr Bottger,” Sergei Bergman said, “they will turn his mind to mush. He will be useless to us afterwards.”

  Bottger cut his eyes to Bergman. “He is already useless. Do you think I would trust him again? Do whatever you have to and make him talk!”

  Bergman nodded his head at Bundt, and the sergeant picked a syringe up off a nearby table and filled it with a colorless liquid from a vial. He bent next to Higgins and jabbed the needle into his arm vein, depressing the plunger and sending the liquid coursing through Higgins’s body.

  As his eyes clouded over under the influence of the truth serum, Higgins began to mumble and laugh to himself, as if he were sharing a private joke in the recesses of his mind.

  Again, Bottger put the question to him. “Who sent you here to spy on me?”

  Higgins’s eyes rolled back in his head as he tried to focus on the man standing in front of him.

  “No one sent me. I came on my own to find work,” he answered, his voice slurred as if he were drunk.

  After another fifteen minutes of this, Bundt finally said, “It is of no use, Herr Bottger. Either he is innocent, or he is so well trained we will never get the truth out of him.”

  Bottger threw his bloodied handkerchief into the wastebasket.

  “You want me to have him shot?” Rudolf Hessner asked.

  “No, send him to the lab. The scientists can always use another subject for their experiments.”

  He hesitated, thinking of what to do next. “And while you are there, tell them to conduct another search of the lab to make sure nothing is missing.”

  “Yes, sir,” Hessner said as he bent to untie Higgins’s hands and help him to his feet.

  “Rudolf,” Bottger said.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “When you’re finished at the lab, go with Sergei and Sergeant Bundt and have all of the trainees assembled in the squad yard. It’s time to find out just who is loyal and who isn’t.”

  “Yes, sir,” Hessner said.

  FOURTEEN

  Mike Post knocked and entered Ben Raines’s office just after breakfast.

  “Hey, Ben,” he said, as he took his usual seat opposite Ben’s desk.

  “Mornin’, Mike,” Ben said over the brim of his coffee cup. “What’ve you heard about Osterman and her current plans?”

  Mike looked at a sheaf of papers in his hand. “Lot of reports of troop movements to the north. Nothing on a large scale, but lots of small units seem to be on the move, and all of them are heading south.”

  “You think she’s getting her troops in position to make a move against us?”

  Mike nodded. “That’d be my first guess. That, combined with the intel from Harley Reno’s group saying the mercs in South America are gearing up for an offensive within one month, suggests that she’s planning on hitting us from the north simultaneously with the offensive from the south in Mexico.”

  Ben smiled. “I guess she thinks she can keep us so busy defending ourselves here we won’t be able to help the Mexican Army stand off Perro Loco and whoever is fronting the mercs from South America.”

  “Yeah, and I’ve gotta say it’s not a bad idea. It’s gonna be real hard to manage a war on two fronts.”

  Ben’s face grew reflective. “She’s certainly studied her history. No major power has ever been able to do it successfully.”

  “What do you think our chances are?” Mike asked, stuffing the papers back in his briefcase.

  “If you mean keeping Mexico free as well as fighting off Osterman from the north, I’d say about fifty-fifty.”

  “That low?” Mike asked, his expression becoming worried as he contemplated the idea of the SUSA losing a war.

  Ben nodded. “In fact, if we expended a major effort to save Mexico City, the odds would be even lower than that.”

  “So, what do you plan to do?”

  “Since the president of Mexico is being so stubborn about accepting our help before the fact of an invasion, I think we’re gonna have to let him do it his way and defend his capital city on his own.”

  “You think he can pull it off?”

  Ben shook his head. “Not a chance,” he said. “The man is a complete imbecile where modern warfare is concerned. Mexico City is far too large and spread out to defend in the usual manner, and Perro Loco has too much sophisticated weaponry to be held off the way the Mexican president wants to.”

  “So, you think Mexico City is doomed?”

  “Yeah, sooner or later, and probably sooner, Loco with the help of the mercs will take the city.”

  “Then what?” Mike asked.

  “Mexico City is five to seven hundred miles from our southern border, which we control. I’m going to send a couple of battalions down there to beef up our forces there, as well as sending in as many scout teams as I can spare to the northern parts of Mexico. I’m going to make Loco and his mercs fight for every inch of territory between Mexico City and our southern borders. It’s going to be a war of attrition so devastating that Loco may have to be content with having Mexico City.”

  “Then, you’re gonn
a cede Mexico to Loco and his minions?”

  Ben nodded. “Essentially, yes.”

  Mike shook his head. “That doesn’t sound good.”

  Ben grinned. “Oh, it won’t be a permanent situation. I’m hoping at some point the citizens of Mexico will rise up and revolt against the carpetbagger leadership of their country. As soon as a credible revolutionary leader emerges, we’ll give him our full backing and help him take back his country.”

  “That means a lot of Mexicans are going to die.”

  Ben leaned forward, his elbows on his desk. “Mike, I’ve said it a hundred times. A country gets the kind of leader they deserve. The Mexican president is an idiot, but he’s the one the people down there wanted to lead them. If he fails to protect his people, then they’re going to have to pay the price for electing him in the first place. It is not our place to spend the lives of American men and women to shore up his deficiencies of leadership.”

  “You think he’ll agree to letting our scouts into his northern regions to protect our southern borders?”

  “Not a chance,” Ben replied.

  “But you said . . .”

  Ben nodded. “I’m going to send them in and have them dig in down there, but he’s not going to know anything about it,” Ben said with a smile. “Every road that can carry tanks or other heavy equipment is going to be mined, and every hill or mountain high enough is going to have antiaircraft batteries on it to help protect us against any bombing raids.”

  “But, with a force that size, he’s bound to find out about it,” Mike protested.

  “Oh, I’m sure at some point he’s going to realize what’s going on,” Ben replied. “That’s when I’m going to sit down and talk some turkey with him. I’ll simply say if he ever wants to trade with us again, or if he wants any help in saving his country from those madmen from South America, he’s going to have to accept the way we do things.”

  “And if he’s too dumb to see the light?”

  Ben’s face became hard. “Then, I’ll simple put his lights out permanently.”

  “That’s playing hardball.”

  Ben nodded. “Like they say, Mike, war is hell.”

  As Mike got up to leave, Ben asked him, “By the way, have you got any hints on who may be leading the mercs down in South America?”

  Mike shook his head. “No, they’ve been keeping it pretty tight down there. Whoever it is must have spent a lot of money on the South American government to keep his secret, ’cause no one’s talking.”

  “Okay, maybe Harley and his people will be able to find out for me.”

  After Mike Post left the room, Ben sent for Georgi Striginov, a big bear of a man and the leader of Bat 505, and for Ike McGowen, the commander of Bat 502 and one of Ben’s dearest friends.

  The two men entered the office at the same time, making it seem suddenly smaller by virtue of their large size. Ike, who weighed close to three hundred pounds and was in a continual battle to try to lose weight in spite of his penchant for sweets, flopped down in a chair across from Ben’s desk, making it groan with his weight.

  Ben smiled. “Ike, if you get any bigger, I’m going to have to special-order some chairs for you to sit in.”

  “Bigger?” the big man protested. “Why, I’ll have you know I’ve lost almost ten pounds on my latest diet.”

  “Yeah,” Striginov laughed, “a seafood diet. If you see food, you eat it.”

  Ike glanced at Striginov, who weighed over 250 pounds. “I don’t see where you have any room to talk, Georgi. You look even bigger than you did last time I saw you.”

  Striginov stuck out his chest and pounded it with his hands. “Yes, Ike, but the difference is my weight is all muscle, while yours is fat.”

  As Ike started to reply, Ben held up his hand. “All right, you two, cut it out.”

  The two men leaned back in their chairs and gave Ben their full attention.

  “Intel says Perro Loco is fixing to make his move down in Mexico,” Ben said. “I want your two bats down there on the border to get ready for anything.”

  “How soon can we expect to be attacked?” Striginov asked.

  Ben shook his head. “That depends on how long it takes the Mad Dog to take Mexico City. He won’t dare try and leapfrog to attack us with the Mexico forces behind him, so he’ll have to conquer Mexico City first. That’ll give us plenty of warning.”

  “So, we just sit and wait?” Ike asked with distaste.

  “No,” Ben answered. “I want you both to field as many scout teams as you can and have them infiltrate Mexico without anyone knowing.”

  Striginov grinned. “In other words, that horse’s ass of a president in Mexico has not approved this plan?”

  “You got it, Georgi.”

  “How do you want us to divide it up?” Ike asked.

  Ben shrugged. “Work it out between the two of you.”

  The two generals looked at each other and smiled. “The troops are gonna love this,” Ike said. “They’ve all been complaining things have been too quiet since Osterman was deposed last year.”

  “Spread your scouts out,” Ben advised. “I want them to harass and slow Loco as much as possible while I’m busy with Osterman’s forces to the north.”

  “Who’s going to take care of our northern border?” Striginov asked.

  “I’m going to station Dan Gray and his Bat 503 along with Pat O’Shea and the 510 along the border.”

  “That’ll be a hoot,” Ike said. “An Englishman and an Irishman cooperating to screw Osterman.”

  “What about Jackie?” Striginov asked, referring to Jackie Malone, leader of the 512 Bat. “She’s been bitching for months now that her command is getting sloppy from inactivity.”

  “Jackie’s going to have a special treat,” Ben said with a grin. “I’m gonna leapfrog her and her command up north of Osterman’s forces. I intend to show Osterman just what fighting on two fronts means.”

  Striginov rubbed his hands together. “This is beginning to sound like fun.”

  “I don’t think Sugar Babe Osterman is going to think it’s much fun when she finds Jackie Malone breathing down her ass,” Ike said with a wide smile.

  Bruno Bottger stood before the assembled troops with Rudolf Hessner, Sergei Bergman, and Herman Bundt at his side. The mercs gathered there were apprehensive, not knowing exactly why they’d been mustered out at such an early hour.

  Bundt went among the mercs, stopping and asking several of them questions before he came back to the front of the group and stood before Bottger.

  “Well?” Bottger asked him.

  “It appears that several of our newest recruits are missing. Their beds had pillows stacked on them under the covers to conceal the fact they weren’t there.”

  “Who are the ones missing?” Bergman asked.

  “Harley Reno and his friends, sir,” Bundt answered.

  “And just who are these missing mercs?” Bottger asked, turning to Bergman.

  “Some of the best recruits I’ve ever seen,” Bergman answered. “They claimed to be ex-soldiers from Ben Raines’s SUSA Army. They were so good I made them drill instructors after their first days here.”

  “And you think they had something to do with the lab break-in?”

  Bergman shrugged. “They must have. It’s the only reason I can think of for them to be AWOL.”

  “Send a team of your best men after them immediately, Herman. I do not want them to escape with whatever information they managed to get from the lab.”

  “Yes, sir,” Bergman said.

  “If they manage to get off the island, they will undoubtedly head south, since going north would merely take them farther into the jungle and it is much too long a trip to Rio de Janeiro on foot. Fill one of the helicopters with a team and have it take them south to the mainland. Then set up an ambush there while another team follows from the rear,” Bottger said, turning on his heel and striding rapidly toward his office without waiting for Bergman’s reply.


  “Herman,” Bergman said, leaning close to his friend.

  “Yes, Sergei?”

  “If you don’t want to end up like Higgins, I’d suggest you bring us the heads of these traitors, or don’t bother to return.”

  Bundt swallowed as his face blanched as pale as the underbelly of a slug. “I understand, Sergei.”

  As Bergman stalked away after his boss, Bundt turned back to his men. He pointed to the team Harley and his group had humiliated on their first day in the camp, and motioned them to come forward.

  The tall, broad-shouldered black man with extensive burn scars on his face stood at attention before Bundt.

  “Ronald Watanabe,” Bundt said.

  “Yes, sir!” the man snapped back, his spine straight as an arrow.

  “Would you like a chance to avenge yourself on the traitors who humiliated you last week?”

  Watanabe grinned, exposing several gold teeth in his mouth. “Yes, sir!”

  “Good, ’cause you’re going to get your chance. Assemble your team and report with full weapons and gear to the airport. You will be transported ahead of the traitors by helicopter. You will set up an ambush on the mainland and stop them from escaping. You will then bring me back the heads of the bastards. Do you understand?”

  Watanabe’s grin faded, replaced by a sneer. “Yes, sir. I guarantee you it will be done.”

  “It had better be, Ronald, or you might as well stay in the jungle and let the cats and crocs eat you, because that will be an easier death than the one you’ll face here if you fail.”

  As Watanabe gestured to Lieutenant Johnson to gather their team together, Bundt began picking other men to lead the chase of the traitors. He wasn’t as concerned with the quality of the men who would be sent, for he planned to send such a quantity of men that it wouldn’t matter how good they were. Their only job was to chase and hound the deserters into the ambush being set up by Watanabe and his team.

  When he had twenty men picked out, he gathered them around the big table in the mess tent and spread out a detailed map of the area in front of them.

  “The only chance the deserters have is to make it to the coast and find some native fishing boats for the trip across the strait to the mainland. They won’t dare make the crossing in the daylight, so that will give you almost twenty-four hours to find and kill them.”