“Is it always like this with your team?” Marcus steered to the left to stay on Route One between San Salvador and Santa Lucia on their way to Santa Ana. Although the road was paved, it could certainly use some work. He wondered how often a crew came through to fill the potholes.
Tori looked up from the file she’d been reading on her tablet. “What do you mean?”
“We had the briefing with the CIA, USSOCOM, and Homeland Security, got up from the table where we’d just finished supper ten minutes before the video conference, grabbed our go bags, and we were lifting off in that futuristic helicopter fifteen minutes later.” He glanced down at the GPS to assure he was on the correct road since there were multiple choices to take through the mountains.
He was good, so he continued, “We landed in the middle of fucking nowhere, were met by reprehensible-looking men who said not a single word, and simply handed us the keys to this practically new Land Rover.” To prove his point, he read the odometer, “It only has 1,298 kilometers on it.”
Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Tori shrug. “Yeah, this is pretty much standard operating procedure for us.” She returned her gaze to her tablet.
“Mind sharing those reports? I might not get a chance to read them depending on our reception when we arrive at the training camp.” He was getting a little nervous. Okay, he could be honest with himself and admit that he was a lot nervous.
Distractedly, she agreed. “Oh, yeah.” She looked over at him and gestured toward the tablet. “This shit reads like a pilot for TV series. Do you remember in one of our first briefings where they gave us the history of SV-16?”
“Of course. Some of the Vasquez family fled to California during the civil war here in El Salvador.” Marcus hoped he got this next part right. “They ran into already established gangs in the major cities. All they had were machetes, and proved themselves lethal, as well as brutal. Initially, they were simply defending their families. Over the last five decades, they’ve become like any other gang and spread nationwide. They’re into the usual gang shit, drug running, human trafficking, extortion.”
“That about sums up the past,” Tori agreed. “But there’s an interesting twist in the latest report from the FBI. It seems Osmin Vasquez, the oldest living original member, doesn’t like where the gang has gone. There’s a recorded conversation in here where he talks about how they weren’t really a gang, they were just men protecting their homes, their women, and their children from the evil that already existed. He’s referencing the other gangs who were well-established in Los Angeles.”
She shifted in her seat, turning her upper body toward him. “He sounds like a really sweet old man. He talks about how he wishes he could keep his grandchildren completely away from SV-16. He claims they came to America to get away from the gang-like mentality that existed in El Salvador during their civil war. He believes his family has blended into the United States, its values, and responsibilities. Every one of his grandchildren, who are old enough, are in college. One of them is in his second year at UCLA Law School studying immigration law. His intent is to help illegal aliens become U.S. citizens.”
“That’s noble,” Marcus commented. “It does nothing, though, to end the gang’s violence. Nor does it help us with this current situation.”
“True. Moving on.” Tori picked up the tablet and swiped through a few pages as though she were looking for something in particular. “In another report, this one from the CIA, Ademir Vasquez, the son of Osmin’s brother, Mario—so that would make him Osmin’s nephew—has popped back and forth between the United States and El Salvador since he was a child. His education is in both countries, he’s fluent in both English and Spanish, and he has a degree in political science from the University of Southern California.”
She was quiet for a few minutes while she read. “Oh. My. God. This fucker is such an egomaniac. According to his high school guidance counselor, which I’ll add at this point that he got suspended from school on a regular basis, he showed, and I quote ‘narcissistic tendencies with a charismatic personality, but when challenged with reality often demonstrates typical narcissistic rage. Could possibly harm others, especially those in authority positions.’ What a piece of work.”
“And exactly why do I need to know about Ademir Vasquez?” He smoothly maneuvered the SUV up the curvy mountain road, thankful he wasn’t doing this in the dark.
“Because one of these men wants to be in charge of the new country formed by unifying El Salvador, Guatemala, and Honduras.” She giggled. “This boy has grandiose plans to say the least. Some of them, his Uncle Osmin should really like. He wants to get out of many of the gang related businesses…and get this…become a toll gate for the cartels and gangs who run everything from drugs to people up and down Central America. But, to the world as a whole, he would come across as a legitimate businessman by building deep water ports for the cruise ships that are going to come through the Nicaraguan canal. He’ll get them coming and going since the unification will give the new country ports on the Atlantic side in the Caribbean and the Pacific side. He wants to develop casinos, resorts, hotels, shopping centers, and pretty much anything else you can think of to fleece visitors.”
“Know what, that’s pretty damn smart,” Marcus agreed. “The new country, whatever they call themselves, would not be running the actual illegal activities. They would simply be collecting money from everyone who enters the country both legally and illegally. I’m sure there are hundreds of worldwide investors who would be more than happy to build hotels, casinos, and resorts, along the oceanside and pay a healthy tax. Money from cruise ships keeps the Caribbean alive.”
“Even when devastated by a hurricane, the ports where cruise ships stop get rebuilt very quickly.” Tori agreed. “Now are you ready to hear about his cousins?”
“You mean we don’t know which one of these men wants to become czar? Or will he call himself the emir? Maybe he’ll decide he’s suddenly royalty and declare himself king. King Vasquez. How does that sound? Or would he use his first name? Czar Ademir. I’m just not feeling it. Emir Ademir. I don’t think that one would work. It almost sounds like were trying to call a dog, ‘C’mere Ademir’.”
Tori sat in the seat next to him laughing so hard. He loved that sound coming from her. But they were getting close to their destination and he needed a rundown of all the players.
“Okay, who else do we have as possible dictator, emphasis on dick?” Marcus was rewarded with another outburst of laughter.
After wiping her eyes, Tori picked up the tablet. “Next in our lineup of possible ambitious Vasquez men is Stanley. Who knew that was a Spanish name? Anyway, Stanley is the son of brother number two, Javier, who was killed in an LA gang war when he was about twenty-five, leaving one son and three daughters. Latest tag on him puts him working construction in Los Angeles. Looks to be a family business. He has two sons, both work for him, and a daughter who runs the office.” A moment later she added, “He doesn’t feel right to me. He looks legit. Very Americanized.”
“Me neither,” Marcus agreed. “Who’s next?”
“Next possibility is Daylin, Ademir’s brother.” Tori was quiet for less than a minute. “Another douchebag. He runs the Los Angeles cell of SV-16 which is the largest. Since he doesn’t get his hands dirty, he’s never been arrested. He lives very well, though, in a mini fortress behind a twelve-foot wall with armed guards.”
She sniggered. “But ever since his father died five years ago, he’s been taking care of his mother. Isn’t he being the good son?” Tori’s sarcasm always got to him. “And his mother is a fashion diva albeit with a very Spanish flare. She lives inside the compound, too. If this report is to be believed, she and current wife, which would be number three, don’t get along. Speculation is because number three came from the gang, is only twenty-five years old and he has kids that age, and she has not provided any grandchildren, yet. Wives number one and two, who by the way still live inside the walls, have six kids between them, and regularly shop the upper end boutiques with their former mother-in-law. Now, isn’t that cozy?”
That reminded Marcus, “Jumping back to Ademir, does he have kids?”
“Checking on that,” she said as she flipped screens. “Yes, two sons from a wife in the United States, and two more sons from his wife in El Salvador.”
Marcus chuckled. “I doubt he’s Mormon, but I guess if they’re in different countries polygamy is okay. But would they still be considered sister wives?”
Giggles erupted next to him. “Don’t know. Don’t care. Moving along. Good old Mario didn’t exactly keep it in his pants either. Entering into the mix is Eduardo, who happens to be the oldest in that generation. Although he has a passport with a few U.S. stamps, he has lived in El Salvador his entire life. He was conscripted into the El Salvador Armed Forces at eighteen and is currently the equivalent of our highest enlisted rank.”
“That makes them quite powerful,” Marcus commented. “But wouldn’t he be too busy with the Army to be involved in SV-16?”
“I have no idea.” Tori’s admission didn’t comfort him. Then she added, “Military coups happen all the time especially in this part of the world. The new government of Nicaragua was established by a military coup, with a lot of help from the United States. Obviously, whoever is heading this up doesn’t want U.S. involvement. Unless they are considering their SV-16 brothers and sisters in the United States to help them garner additional funding.”
Her mouth dropped open. “If we don’t find all the nuclear material here, part of the warheads could still be in the United States in the hands of SV-16. They could be planning simultaneous attacks. Bombing something in the U.S. to divert attention away from what they’re doing in Central America. Fuck.” She pulled out her satellite phone and hooked it up to the tablet then quickly typed. She stared at the screen for several minutes before she typed again.
“Whew.” Tori let out a deep breath as she sat back in her seat. “USSOCOM had already run that scenario and sent teams with Geiger counters back every step of the route. It’s a possibility but they only give it a forty-two percent likelihood. The quicker we find and count the warheads, the sooner everybody stateside is going to breathe a sigh of relief. General Lyon wished us good hunting.”
“Let’s hope this mission is easier than I think it’s going to be. So, back to the possibilities of who is masterminding this. What about Eduardo’s offspring?” Marcus downshifted to make it up the mountain curves. He looked at the second shifter and wondered if he’d have to put it into four-wheel-drive to make it to the training camp.
“It doesn’t look as though Eduardo has the same propensity as his half-brothers. He’s never been married and there are no recorded children.” She was quiet for a moment then squealed. “Well I’ll be damned. It seems Osmin may not know his children as well as he thinks he does.”
“How many kids does he have?” Marcus was going to need her to diagram the family tree.
Gleefully she explained, “First, Osmin has three sons and a daughter. Daughter is the oldest and her oldest is in law school. Next comes Cesar with two sons and a daughter. Oldest boy and the girl are in college while the youngest boy is a senior in high school.
Next up is Kelvin, never married, no kids, a real techie. The FBI has labeled him a non-threat and calls him geeky and a loner. He has very good job writing code all day.” she smiled and turned her head his way. “Then we have Danny.”
“Is he the black sheep in Osmin’s family?” Marcus hoped this guy was the last of the players.
“Poor little Danny suffers from youngest child syndrome. He is the only one in that generation born in the United States. According to the IRS, at thirty-six, he has had sixteen different jobs including a few with his cousins. While we’re on the subject of cousins, he and Ademir have traveled together several times to El Salvador. Not only do they both have the SV-16 snake tattoo, but they were active in the local gang, which you remember is run by Ademir’s brother, Daylin.”
She read for a few minutes then looked toward him. “Certain people within our government believe that SV-16 only wanted the nuclear warheads so they could be taken seriously as a world power.”
“Well, isn’t Mr. Vasquez, whichever one of the founders’ sons it turns out to be, going to be surprised when we take them away?” Marcus noted.
“It means he’s not going to be happy, that’s for damn sure.” She did not look happy when he chanced a glance her way.
“Do those reports have anything on the training facility?” Marcus became more nervous the closer they got to their destination.
“Actually, they’re processing data now. They’ve had a satellite over the general area snapping pictures since the first briefing this morning. The problem is, they are quite well hidden in the jungle. Even infrared isn’t showing much.”
“Why am I not surprised?” He looked at his GPS and slowed down. “Need your help, Tori.” They were just over a mile from Santa Ana and very close to where they were to turn. “Somewhere off to the left is a huge lake and we need to turn toward it, but the roads are like fingers pointed down. If we take the wrong turn, we have to come all the way back out and try the next road. I’d rather get it right the first time.”
Tori grabbed the GPS. “Not this road, but the next.”
It looked as though they were driving through a neighborhood rather than a road to a secret training camp. As they dropped down the mountain, huge trees lined the road, often blocking the setting sun.
“We continue down this road until we almost reach the lake, then hang a right.” Tori’s directions made Marcus feel so much better. He felt like they were in this together.
Turning right, they traveled along a road about a thousand feet above the lake on a very steep mountain side. Marcus was surprised at the large size of the homes. He did not expect to see such wealth so far away from San Salvador. There were several roads off to the right reaching through the dense trees to hidden homes far up the mountainside. The homes became farther apart as the road continued to narrow.
They emerged from a dense section of forest, to find that night had already settled. To Marcus, it seemed that the only light on earth came from his two headlamps. Even the GPS had gone to a black back screen giving little illumination to the inside of the Rover.
Tori’s satellite phone rang.
They both jumped.
It had been nearly a mile since they had passed the last home.
After glancing at him, she put it on speaker and answered, “The falcon flies free.”
“Delta signifies change,” the man replied.
Marcus had never been on this kind of a covert operation so all of this was new to him. The ATF didn’t have secret codes. Hell, they didn’t even have satellite phones most of the time that they were outside the country.
“Lady Falcon, stop your vehicle,” the voice demanded.
Marcus slowed the SUV to a stop in a place where he could see up and down a short piece of straight road. He immediately moved his mini machine gun onto his lap at the same time Tori did.
“Lady Falcon, turn your lights out for three seconds then turn them back on.”
Marcus did as instructed.
“Confirm you are at position…” The man read off an extremely long string of numbers that Marcus figured was their exact location on the earth.
Tori stared at the handheld GPS. “Confirmed.” Her voice was strong. All business.
In the dim of only dashboard lights, Marcus watched Tori shrug when their eyes met. This was not part of the plan, nor had anyone updated this change.
“Lady Falcon, this is Delta Two actual. Do not shoot. I repeat do not shoot. I am approaching the car on the passenger side. I need to update General Lyon and upload pictures to SOCOM. Look into the woods to your right. I will flash my light twice.”
They both stared into the dark, dense trees ten feet away. A red light appeared and went out reappeared and went out again.
“Confirmed, Delta Two actual. I saw your red light.” Although Tori did not move her gun from her lap, he did hear her exhale slowly.
“Unlock the doors. I’m jumping in.”
The thunk of the locks releasing seemed deafening in the silence. A second later, the back door flung open and immediately closed.
“Drive,” an urgent male voice said from behind him.
Marcus stepped on the gas, turning on the front lights at the same time.
“We’ll do the introductions in a minute. My men are waiting up around the next corner. Look for the red lights. We need to hide this vehicle while we communicate with SOCOM.”
The road made a wide arc to the right. Marcus immediately saw the red lights and turned where indicated. He pulled onto a road so narrow branches scraped the sides of the SUV. At movement in his rearview mirror he watched bushes seeming to grow behind him, closing the space.
“This is far enough.” The man in the back seat reached his hand toward Tori as Marcus brought the vehicle to stop. “Lady Falcon, I’m Delta Two. Some of my team are going to join us.”
Marcus flicked off the lights and stopped the engine before he turned toward the back seat. “Special Agent Marcus Hernandez, ATF. I don’t have any cool code name.”
A slash of white teeth was all he could see as he shook the man’s hand. The night camouflage was pretty amazing.
“A couple of my men are going to jump in.” That was all the warning they were given before the two back doors flew open, as did the hatch. Several thuds indicated his men were inside.
Delta Two wasted no time. “Lady Falcon, I understand you have a laptop and satellite phone with encrypted data capability.”
She handed them both to him. “They’re unlocked. What do you have?”
The man completely in black, head to toe, pulled out a cord and connected the personal cell phone to the computer. He dialed a phone number. When the ringing stopped there was nothing but a beep. Delta Two entered several numbers and a phone rang again.
“Speak.”
“Delta Two. Uploading now.” Photographs and hand drawings flashed across Tori’s tablet as a green line slowly stretched from left to right on the bottom. “Upload complete.”
“Upload received,” came the ominous voice from the other side. “Hold for General Lyon and place on speaker.”
Marcus smiled when Delta Two’s eyes went wide showing lots of white. The other men seemed to shift.
“Delta Two, good job.” The general’s voice boomed in the confined space. “I want you to brief Lady Falcon and Marcus. Share everything. We’re showing you are three clicks from the target.”
“Confirmed, sir.” Delta Two seemed to be sitting up straighter in his seat. “I’ll completely brief them after this conversation, sir.”
“Delta Two, take your team back to the target and resume observation.” The general’s chair squeaked. “Have you found an EZ?”
“No, sir. We’re on the side of a mountain so an extraction zone for the packages is proving extremely difficult.” Delta Two added, “We do have an idea that we proposed in the uploaded data.”
“We’ll take a look at it and take it under consideration.” The general’s chair squeaked once again. “Lady Falcon, Delta Two is taking possession of the sat phone and tablet. From this point forward, you will be constantly monitored through the comm devices in your ears. Activate them now.”
The Black Swans seemed to have the newest and coolest spy toys including the communication device Marcus had been issued. It was buried so deep in his ear, it couldn’t be seen from a visual inspection. He touched the part of his outer ear that they had shown him and he heard the click, just as he’d been told.
“Comm check, Lady Falcon,” Tori said in a normal voice.
“Comm check, Marcus Hernandez.”
“Comm check complete for Marcus Hernandez.” It was as though the voice was inside his head. He knew his mouth was hanging open as he looked at Tori.
“Pretty cool, isn’t it? The first time is always a little creepy.” She shrugged. “You’ll get used to it quickly. Right now, we’re only connected to the operations center and to each other.”
“I understand,” Marcus confirmed.
“Lady Falcon, Delta Two, rollout. Good hunting. Lyons out.” Although the general was gone, and the satellite phone disconnected, Marcus understood that he was still being monitored by the USSOCOM operations center, audio only.
In the next ten minutes, Delta Two went through each screen with Marcus and Tori. There were external pictures of the training camp, but the Deltas had been able to get inside the barracks, outbuildings, and mess hall. Unfortunately, the bunker where the warheads were stored was heavily guarded round-the-clock.
The three of them devised a slightly altered plan. Marcus and Tori were to get inside, pretending to join the organization. Hopefully a tour would include the inside of the bunker so they could count the number of warheads. If that didn’t work, one of them would secure the job of guarding the bunker at night. Taking out the other guards and counting the warheads should be a relatively easy job. Then it was up to D.C. to determine the future of those warheads. Marcus just hoped they were all there and none of them were left in the hands of SV-16 back in the United States.
Plan set, the men in the far back jumped out and helped guide Marcus as he backed up to the road. They hopped back in and rode with them only another mile.
Marcus felt better about their situation knowing that a team of Deltas, the most elite of the Army’s Special Forces, was just outside the perimeter of the camp.
As they drove up to the guarded gates, Tori reached over and squeezed his hand. “We’ve got this.” She laid her lips on his and everything was right in his world.
Until he looked out the window where a ragged soldier pointed a gun at his head.