The Surge - 03 (36 page)

Zach initial reaction to BB’s remarks was anger. Didn’t the old coot realize what was at stake? He wanted a beer? To call his lady? No wonder the rangers had pushed him out.

A cool head soon returned to Zach’s shoulders. It dawned on the ranger that rushing in half-cocked had played no small role in the current shit storm. They’d made sound decisions so far, and luck had been on their side. Was taking a few minutes to develop a strategy sage or lazy?

In the end, he couldn’t argue the older man’s wisdom. Besides, every minute they spent in the area infested with Vincent’s private army increased the odds of the two lawmen being discovered.

“Okay, BB. I get it. Let’s go find someplace to think this through. But not too far … and not for too long. I don’t want our kingfish swimming away.”

They found a small, run-down cantina less than a mile away from Vincent’s floating fortress. Inside, a small radio played Corrido music while a handful of patrons stared into their drinks.

As the two lawmen pulled back the antique art deco chairs at a corner table, a middle-aged woman appeared to take their order. “Dos Coronas, por favor,” BB smiled.

As they waited for their refreshments, BB pulled out his cell phone and punched in Izzy’s number. “We only get cell service on clear days, but at least, I can leave her a message.”

The weather must have been good up north, BB’s call answered after only a few rings. The old ranger’s face brightened with a huge smile when he heard Isabelle’s voice.

Zach decided to give his friend some privacy. Besides, he was too keyed up to sit and sip a brew. Taking his beer from the server, he wandered outside using the excuse that he wanted to keep an eye on the truck.

Leaning against the pickup and noting the setting sun, the ranger thought about the man he’d recruited to join him on what was an extremely dangerous quest. BB moved to a different rhythm than most of the lawmen Zach had worked with before. There were times when the man was pure genius, coming up with creative solutions and showing a degree of preparedness that was impressive.

Other events had left Zach frustrated as hell.

Zach had learned a long time ago to distance his reasoning in any complex situation and look at things from a broader perspective. It had helped him solve numerous crimes.

His mind ventured to a place where he watched from afar, like an angel floating above BB and himself, watching their activities with a third party’s perspective. After a few minutes of recounting their adventure, the ranger had to chuckle.

An old joke summed up the view from the heavens. A young bull and an old bull were standing on a hill, peering down at a herd of cows. “Let’s run down there and service one of them,” the young bull suggested.

“Let’s
walk
down and service them all,” countered the old bull.

The humor, tasty beer, and beautiful sky helped Zach regain the perspective of a professional lawman. He was able to push aside at least a portion of the gut-felt hatred for Ghost that had been controlling his thoughts.

Guilt, coupled with a rage derived from failure, had been driving his actions as of late. That might be acceptable when dealing with bank robbers and child molesters, but Zach knew he was pursuing an entirely different level of criminal brainpower.

Most crooks were just plain stupid. Ignorant not only of social values and lacking conscience but low on the scale of human intellect. He remembered the showdown with Tusk, recalled thinking that the man probably couldn’t count. In reality, that most likely wasn’t far from the truth.

Ghost and El General, however, were completely different animals. Both men demonstrated notoriety that wouldn’t have been possible without extremely high IQs. That intelligence, combined with a streak of ruthlessness had paved the road to their ascent to power. They were the most dangerous adversaries he’d ever faced, and if he didn’t start using his brain over brawn, they would win.

The ranger’s thoughts returned to BB, wondering if the older, more-experienced lawman had realized all of this from the beginning. “Maybe I should do what BB is doing,” he thought. “Maybe there’s method to his madness.”

Zach had purchased a no-contract cell phone while shopping for the box and paint. He hadn’t known why at the time, but the advertisement for “Free Calls To Texas and The United States,” had drawn his eye.

He pulled the older model flip phone from his pocket and completed the setup in less than a minute. From memory, he dialed Cheyenne’s number.

The busy model didn’t answer, which wasn’t unusual. In a way, Zach was relieved to hear her voicemail. He hadn’t been sure what he was going to say.

He started to put the phone away but then dialed Sam. She answered on the second ring.

“Ranger Temple,” his partner’s voice chimed.

“Hey.”

“Zachariah Bass, where in the hell are you? And don’t you dare spin some lie that you’re in the mountains hiking.”

“I don’t want to tell you where I’m at. And believe me, you don’t want to know.”

“Zach? Are you okay?” she responded, the worry genuine and thick in her voice.

“Yes, I’m just peachy. I’m enjoying a cold brew and looking at a beautiful sunset,” he answered honestly.

Her sigh of relief sounded across the international connection loud and clear. “Well, that’s good, I suppose. What are you doing? Can you tell me that at least?”

“No.”

Sam’s famous temper got the better of her concerns over his wellbeing. “Well … then why did you call me?” 

Chuckling, Zach again was forthright. “To be blunt, I’m not sure why. I guess I was worried about your leg. How are you doing?”

“Bullshit!” she barked, but there wasn’t much ire behind it. “Seriously, Zach, what’s going on? I’m your partner, damn it. The entire world has gone to hell in a handbasket, and you leave me a message that you’re going off on some fucking pilgrimage into the mountains. I’ve been worried sick about you.”

There it was. The last part. Somehow, that made Zach feel better. He now knew why he’d called.

“I’m sorry, Sam. I really am. I just had to go do this by myself. There wasn’t any other way.”

“Asshole,” she snapped, but then immediately regretted it. “But I forgive you … I think … I guess…. Hell, this sucks Zach. I am glad you called, though. I was about to write you off.”

The ranger grinned again, not believing she would ever give up on her partner. “Yeah, I’m good for the moment. Let me ask you something – do you know how to disable a boat?”

“Huh?”

“I’ve got to figure out a good way to keep a boat … a big boat … from moving. I don’t think I can sneak on board and remove the distributor cap,” he chuckled, trying to lighten the mood somewhat. “So how in the hell would you go about something like that?”

There was a silence on the other end, making Zach think that Sam was looking up the number for the nearest insane asylum. Finally, she responded, “Just shoot a hole in the hull and sink it,” she answered.

“It has a steel hull, and I would have to shoot about a million holes for it to sink. It’s a big boat – really a ship.”

“Blow up the engines,” she suggested.

“I can’t get on board … at least not without a battalion of Marines helping me out, and I’m a little short on assault troops and explosives at the moment.”

Sam was tiring of the game, “Shit, Zach! How in the hell would I know? I’ve only ever been on a boat one time, and that ended up a disaster. My dad took me fishing when I was a girl, and somehow I managed to get the dock line tangled up in the propeller. We were powerless, drifting around for an hour before somebody towed us in.”

Light bulbs flashed and the ideas began to spark. “That’s it! You’re a genius, Sam! I have to go. I’ll call you in a few days … I hope.”

“Ranger Zachariah Bass, what on God’s green earth are you talking about? Don’t you hang up on me, damn it! Zach? Are you there?”

Sam looked at the disconnected cell phone, the wrath of hell’s fire beaming from her eyes. It passed quickly, though, replaced with sadness. “Please, be safe, Zach. Please.”

The lady ranger started to return the phone to her pocket but didn’t. Instead, she glanced at a business card lying on the coffee table and picked it up.

Sam contemplated calling the number, her mind whirling with a cyclone of stress, concern for her partner, and fear for her country. Texas wasn’t weathering the storm that was lashing its southern neighbor very well, and it looked like the violence was heading north.

The economic impact alone was staggering. With closed borders on all sides, international trade had come to a standstill.

Protests had turned into riots and widespread civil unrest in Dallas, San Antonio, and Houston. El Paso had a massive march scheduled for the following day.

International outrage monopolized its own percentage of the headlines. President Clifton seemed to be outmaneuvering Simmons in the diplomatic blame-game. Somehow, the republic had ended up holding the bio-weapon development bag, and a lot of people across the globe made it clear they wanted nothing to do with such a “rogue” nation.

Mexico, before the government had fallen apart, was threatening to file charges in the International Courts in The Hague, Netherlands. There were legal firms in Dallas and Austin working on class action lawsuits on behalf of those who had lost family or livestock due to the plague.

Just that morning, Sam had watched a news report out of Brownsville, the segment droning on and on about how many workers were calling in sick, afraid to leave their homes because of the epidemic.

Sam eyed the business card again, in full realization of the consequences if she made the call, and it didn’t go well. Then again, her partner was clearly in danger, and the republic was teetering on the edge of a very, very deep abyss.

“What the hell,” she whispered, punching the numbers onto the screen.

After the first ring, she almost hung up, barely fighting off the urge.

On the second ring, her thumb was hovering again.

“Foot Hood,” sounded a male voice. “How many I direct your call?”

“General Hopkins, please.”

“One moment.”

This time, a female voice answered, all business. “General Hopkins’s office. State the nature of your call, please.”

“This is Ranger Samantha Temple. I need to speak with the general, please. It is a matter of national security.”

“Hold one moment, please.”

Sam almost hung up again, a ball of fear trying to crawl from her stomach into her throat. It was almost two minutes before the general’s familiar voice came on the line.

“Ranger Temple, I hope you are well.”

“Thank you, General,” Sam replied, trying to keep her tone professional. “Sir, I need to speak with you, and time is of the essence. Do you have a few moments?”

There was a pause, Sam bracing for rejection and perhaps even a scolding. “I do, Ranger Temple, but not over an unsecured line. Is there any chance you could visit me here on the base? My duties require that I remain here for the foreseeable future.”

Glancing at her always-ready crutch, Sam responded, “Yes, sir. I can be there in about an hour if that is acceptable.”

“Of course,” the military man warmly replied. “I will leave word at the gate. It’s always a pleasure to assist the republic’s law enforcement officers. Will Ranger Bass be accompanying you?”

“Ranger Bass is the reason for my visit, General. But we can discuss the details in an hour.”

“Agreed. See you shortly, Ranger.”

After disconnecting with Sam, Zach remained outside for a few more minutes, mulling over the plan born of his partner’s childhood experience.

Tipping back his beer, he ventured back inside and found BB engrossed in a Mexican newscast, a deep frown directing the old ranger’s brow. “Your friends on the yacht are some very bad men, Ranger Bass. They have managed to stir up the biggest pot of shit I’ve ever seen.”

“Told you.”

BB grunted, “I should have taken your words more to heart. Anyway, I’ve been thinking this through, and my suggestion is still the same – let’s go talk to my friend, the chief of police.”

Zach nodded his agreement, but there was more to it. “I think we should pay him a visit, but the conversation I’m envisioning probably isn’t what you are thinking.”

“Go on,” BB said, his eyebrows arching in anticipation.

For the next 30 minutes, the two lawmen hashed and rehashed Zach’s plan. The younger ranger knew BB was onboard when instead of a second beer, the old timer ordered two cups of coffee.

Sipping the steaming cups of java, BB’s face flashed with inspiration. Waving over the waitress, the old ranger produced a handful of pesos from his pocket while exchanging a string of Spanish that Zach had trouble following.

Eventually, after three rounds of negotiation, BB handed the woman a handful of bills and then stood. Motioning Zach to follow, he enlightened his partner, “Come on, we’re going to become high-tech crime fighters.”

The barmaid led them to a grungy back office and pointed toward a new-looking computer residing on the cluttered desk. “Gracias,” BB responded, and then sat down in front of the monitor.

Zach was stunned as the old timer’s fingers began pecking on the keyboard. After a bit, a blueprint of Vincent’s boat was displayed on the screen. “I found an old listing at a yacht brokerage,” the weathered lawman explained with pride. “I figured that purchasing that big-ass boat was like buying a house, and the broker would have pictures and a layout.”

“That’s brilliant, BB. Can you print that shit out?”

“Sure ‘nuff.”

The nearby printer began humming and clanking as paper slid in and poured out with various pictures, drawings, and information about
La Rosa
. Zach paid special attention to the location of the propellers.

As the duo returned to their table, BB glanced at his watch and said, “If we’re going to pull this off, we’d better get moving. There’s a lot of work to be done.”

It was just getting dark when they finally left the cantina and headed for the shopping district where they’d first picked up Vincent’s scent.

Two hours later, they were parked outside the sugar and cotton warehouse. “I want to wait until at least midnight before we make our move,” Zach said. “I’ll take the first watch if you want to get some sleep.”

“I thought you’d never ask,” BB replied, reaching down to recline his seat while pulling his hat low over his eyes. “Wake me in an hour.”

“Will do.”

Sam drove like a demon to Fort Hood.

As before, the security procedures were thoroughly obnoxious.

She had just pulled into the denoted “Authorized Visitors Only” parking spot when she spied General Hopkins marching across the well-manicured lawn. He was making a beeline for her car.

After a quick greeting and handshake, the senior officer surprised Sam by suggesting they take a walk.

“I’m not walking so well, sir,” Sam answered, pointing toward her crutch.

“There is a nice shady bench not far from here, Ranger. I think I have a pretty good idea why you’ve come to visit, and I think it would be best if we had our conversation outside.”

Sam loved a good mystery novel, would even admit to receiving some twisted sense of enjoyment when working a particularly difficult murder. Today, however, she wasn’t in the mood for cloak and dagger adventures.

“Sir, I feel an extreme sense of urgency about this matter. I would appreciate it if.…”

The general raised his hand to stop her mid-sentence. “Zach called you right before you called me. He’s in Mexico.”

Sam was stunned. “How did…. Are you….”

The general motioned for Sam to start hobbling along with her crutch. She wanted answers and saw little alternative than to do as the man wished. After they had rounded the corner and entered a small, park-like setting, he began. “Your phone and Ranger Bass’s cell were placed on a watch list after you last visited this facility. We take our security very seriously, Ranger Temple. It is standard procedure for us to monitor the communications of anyone who is the recipient of classified information.”

Immediately furious, Sam snapped, “Are you watching me take a shower, too?”

“No, Ranger Temple. While we could do that, most people don’t divulge secrets while bathing. It really upsets you to know that we were eavesdropping, doesn’t it?”

“Yes. It most certainly does,” she replied forcefully.

“So now you know the primary reason for our multiple layers of secrecy and demand for discretion. The feelings you are experiencing at this moment are common to practically anyone who becomes aware of our capabilities. Even I was shocked when the program was first launched. That’s one of the main reasons why we must keep it so closely guarded.”

The lady ranger had to admit, he had a valid point. “I bet you know a lot of secrets, General.”

“Our equipment hears a lot of secrets, Ranger. Unless it is a matter of national security, no human becomes involved. A computer listened to your conversation with Ranger Bass to make sure neither of you was discussing privileged information. Short of that, it wouldn’t have mattered if you and your partner were discussing robbing a bank or killing a man who cut you off in traffic, we wouldn’t get involved. Crime is none of our business. We only breach our citizens’ right to privacy if they are placing the republic directly in danger or planning to sabotage our military capabilities.”

“And non-citizens? How much information do your machines gather from those outside of Texas?”

“That’s classified and irrelevant to our discussion, Ranger Temple.”

Sam nodded. “I understand, sir. Besides, you’ve already passed along the primary reason for my visit by telling me Zach is in Mexico. Can you tell me where he is by any chance?”

Hopkins nodded, “Yes, he’s in Tampico, along the riverfront. I assume you would like the exact address?”

Again, she was amazed. “You can track someone’s location that closely? That is very scary, sir.”

The general looked left and right as if he were trying to verify that no one was paying them any attention. Reaching into his breast pocket, he pulled out a small slip of paper and handed it to Sam.

“Your partner could use some help, Ranger Temple. I suggest you get in touch with the man on that note.”

Sam glanced down and saw some map coordinates above the name, “Captain Billy Riddell, ROTMC,” and a phone number. She recognized the area code as south-central Texas.

Hopkins noted the confusion on her face. “Captain Riddell was the officer in charge of the training platoon that was ambushed near Langtry. As a matter of fact, I’ve taken the liberty of contacting him already. He’s expecting your call.”

Sam started to ask for more, but General Hopkins stood, making it clear their discussion was over. With a firm smile, he added, “I’m sorry to cut our visit short, Ranger Temple, but I have pressing matters to attend to. Thank you for stopping by.”

Then he was stepping away, leaving Sam clutching the name of a Republic of Texas Marine and little else.

After exchanging catnaps, Zach and BB began preparing for their nocturnal activities.

Grumbling about having to wade through the bottom of a birdcage, BB climbed to the roof to make sure nothing was new along the pier. Zach began changing clothes.

The ranger had purchased a set of swimming trunks during their shopping spree, as well as some additional dark clothing and a set of flippers. After trying on his nautical attire, the Texan then set about darkening his face and hands with a mixture of Vaseline and charcoal. It was the best camo paint he could come up with on short notice.

Next, he inflated a dark blue floatation device, just like a vacationer would find drifting atop the pools at the seaside resorts on the tourist side of town. His knife, a waterproof flashlight, and a pair of goggles rounded out the Texan’s kit.

Then, he hefted a length of steel cable, the sturdy strand about the size of Zach’s little finger. He’d purchased 50 feet of the stout line, which weighed just over 150 pounds. The pool-raft would hold a full-sized adult; he prayed it would keep the coil afloat as well.

The ranger used duct tape to secure the cable to the raft, and then he was ready.

BB returned, quickly informing Zach that all appeared quiet around the yacht. “Looks like everyone but the lookout has turned in for the night. There’s one guy with a shoulder-fired weapon walking around the deck, three more blocking each end of the dock. I’m sure there are more, but I couldn’t see them.”

“Okay, let’s get this over with.”

The duo made their way to the riverside, Zach estimating the yacht was just over 400 yards downstream. Peering down into the water, the Texan couldn’t help but shiver. BB noticed his hesitation.

“I don’t blame you for having second thoughts,” BB teased. “Who knows what’s lurking in that murky water? That’s got to be worse than the bird scat on top of the warehouse.”

Flashing his friend a pained expression, Zach countered, “Oh, thanks for that, BB. What a wonderful thing to say about now. ”

“What?” BB replied with feigned remorse. “That’s not why you were stalling?”

“No,” Zach said. “I don’t swim all that well.”

Before BB could mutter an apology, Zach was descending a ladder. The elder lawman watched as his partner lowered himself into the dark waters. “Lower down the float,” Zach hissed, still clutching the ladder. “This fucking water is a lot colder than I thought it would be.”

The senior lawman did as he was told, grunting with the weight of the attached cable. Zach accepted the pool toy without comment. “See you downstream,” the voice called from the water. And then the ranger shoved off, his darkened face and arms barely visible as the river took him toward El General’s floating palace.

Zach soon found the current wasn’t very strong, and after a few minutes, his body started to adjust to the chill.

While he’d been spying on Ghost and company from his rooftop perch, Zach had noticed some children swimming on the opposite bank. Despite BB’s comment about the water quality and unknown composition, the ranger figured it couldn’t be all that deadly if parents were letting their kids get wet – if they were aware of any unseen threat.

In less than 15 minutes, Zach was nearly even with the bow of Vincent’s yacht, the impressive superstructure rising like a skyscraper above the Texan’s head.

He dropped lower into the water, leaving nothing above the surface but his hands grasping the plastic float, and his mouth and nose grasping for air. If someone on the deck above did spot the mini-raft drifting by, he was counting on it looking like just another piece of trash floating down the river.

Kicking silently under the surface, Zach propelled himself toward the massive hull, finally letting the river take over when he was close enough to reach out and touch the side.