Chapter 11 Jack Stinson Returns
The older rancher and his son stood behind several Ponderosa pine trees watching the man trying to steal their pick up. Their horses were out of sight in the trees; their pick up and horse trailer were 75 yards ahead.
"Think he's armed?" the older man asked the younger.
"Yes, sir, he's got a .45 on his back," I said in my disguised lower voice as I stepped up behind the two men.
They turned and probably thought I was an aberration from hell. Fresh and dried blood decorated my shredded camo jacket and pants. An M16 rifle with a scope was slung over my left shoulder, a Glock on my hip, a Kbar from my waist, head covered with a gouged helmet, face and neck obscured behind the balaclava. I must have smelled wonderful.
"Who are you?" the older man asked.
"Bond enforcement Denver. Name is Castillo, sir." I was keeping my voice low and quiet mostly out of exhaustion.
"He yours?"
"We got our FTA, this is extra. Homeland would like to talk to him," I answered.
"Explain?" The older man asked.
I thought that a funny response. Maybe this guy had been in the service.
"Sirs, I have reason to believe he may be a terrorist. I came across his two associates in a cabin outside of Walden with the FTA. The cabin and site had advanced security features. I suspect it is a weapon's bunker. Four of their buddies showed up later. This one has evaded capture. One thing for sure, he's probably some country's star cross country runner; he's a jack rabbit. This is my fourth day on his trail."
The younger man looked at me, "I take it he didn't do this to you."
"There's one less mountain lion to bother your cattle." Looking towards the truck I asked, "Why isn't the truck moving?"
"We have extra anti-theft devices. It looks like he's found and disabled two of them. He still has three more to go. We were just discussing if we ought to confront him."
"Let me. It's time to stop this guy." Handing my M16 to the older man, "Can you use this?"
He shook his head yes. "If I mess up, shoot him. Homeland can interview his corpse."
"You said you were bond enforcement. Who do you work for?" Asked the older man.
"Bob Simon Security, Denver, Sir." Taking out my cell phone and handing it to him, "You can call him to come get me or my body. This ends here." I hoped I still had battery power on the phone.
As I moved away I did not hear the older one say to his son, "He moves like Special Forces."
His son corrected, "SHE moves like Special Forces."
I slipped down into the stream and followed the bank up to the truck. The fugitive was busy trying to disable the other anti-theft devices and didn't hear or see me. He looked desperate but also exhausted. As he sat in the front seat, I snuck up and grabbed his arm, pulling him from the truck. Neither of us had much strength left but he hadn't gone 10 rounds with a cougar earlier. I found his gun and relived him of it while he was going after mine. A chop to his left arm ended that but my Glock fell to the ground. He swung and kicked; I nailed his knee and sent him to the ground. He would not be running cross country anymore.
I had his right hand and was pulling it behind as I searched for the knife he used to cut up the badger. He reached into his jacket with this left hand and pulled out what looked like a lighter. I immediately recognized it as identical to several that were on the table in the cabin in Walden...but they weren't lighters. They weren't fobs. I knocked it from his hand and pulled him back and was going to cover him when the world exploded.
I was face down with the fugitive on top of me screaming to Allah, I think. My hearing was more white noise than recognizable sounds.
The fugitive was lifted from me and laid onto the ground. The younger man began tending him. The older man's mouth was moving but I heard nothing. I shook my head no, I couldn't hear him. He seemed to understand.
After a few minutes my world synchronized and I could think again. I saw my Glock and M16 beside the truck along with a Colt belonging to the fugitive. I staggered to my feet and went to retrieve my weapons. Out of the corner of my eye I saw movement in the distance, "We've got company," I muttered. Slipping between the truck and horse trailer I watched the two men approach.
I could barely raise my rifle to look through the scope, I was exhausted. They each had rifles slung on their shoulders and side arms on their legs. They couldn't see me. Eventually I could make out Ben Carson. The other must be Carlos Manoso. I wanted to weep in relief, but was just too tired and my head was killing me, but then so was everything else.
As Ben and Ranger crossed the stream and walked up the road towards the older man, Ranger calmly greeted him, "Good morning, sir."
The old rancher nodded and noting their camouflage and rifles, "You aren't hunters, it's not season."
"No sir," replied Ranger. I'm Carlos Manoso from Bob Simon and Rangeman Securities; this is Ben Carson, Department Homeland Security. We are tracking two individuals from North Park."
"That's a long away away," the rancher said.
"Yes sir," Ranger answered.
Ben chimed in, "Judging from the clothing on that one being tended, that's one of them. How badly is he hurt?"
"Small explosive device he set off himself. Face and chest wounds. My son is a doctor, doing what he can."
Ben and Ranger remembered FBI Gene explaining how Stinson had allowed the two detainees lose only to have the "lighter" IED blow up killing both men and wounding an HLS.
"We are also following a second individual who was tracking this one," Ranger added.
The rancher smiled, "I'd say she is tracking you now" and nodded toward me. I was 20 feet behind Ranger and Ben, rifle cradled in my arms.
They swung around and stared. I had moved around behind them unseen as they approached the rancher. Going undetected was a small coup; Ranger was the one who had enhanced my stealth abilities years ago in Iraq.
"Jesus Christ, you look like hell," Carson gasped.
"Sargent, the name is Castillo, Major Catherine," I smirked. Ranger took my rifle and Glock. Guess he thought I was about to drop them. He was right.
"We weren't sure the cougar didn't get you." He said quietly.
"She nearly did," I whispered.
The rancher had my cell phone in his hand. "Bob Simon wants to talk to the Catherine or you Mr. Manoso." I shook my head, I couldn't talk.
Ranger took the phone and began talking quietly. Ben walked up to me and removed my helmet and balaclava underneath. The cloth was held tight by dried blood to my neck. "I'm not going to rip it off, Major, I'll cut it away. Do you want to sit?" He was holding my arm.
"Hell no, "I answered, "I've got shrapnel in my ass." I saw the rancher and immediately said, "Sorry sir, my language."
The rancher smiled, "I'm quite used to swearing Major Castillo. I'm in service, I'm General Clark Gleason."
I tried to stand straighter, but failed, so could only utter, "Sir." I knew the name, Gleason had been commander of Ft. Carson Army Base outside of Colorado Springs before earring a star and moving on.
Ranger shut off my phone and extended his hand to the general, "General Gleason, Carlos Manoso, and former Ranger."
Ben extended his hand, "Ben Carson, former Army Intel."
"Sir, I'm Catherine Castillo, former Intel," I felt obligated to identify myself properly. How unfortunate for our potential Middle East terrorist ended his run on a US Army General's ranch.
Ranger cut in, "There's med evac is on its way for your fugitive and you, Cathy. Bob is on his way by car for us. That is if the general can put up with us for a while."
The doctor, Jack Gleason, came over to me, "What's this about shrapnel." He walked around to my back and gently pulled the fabric at the tears. "Let's go over to the truck where you can hold onto something." Good idea I thought, before I fall on my face.
I leaned against the truck and my pants were dropped. The under garment was stuck to the cougar claw marks and pulling the fabric reopened the wounds. My bloody ass and Kuwait scars were visible for all to see…and I didn't give a hoot.
After removing the most obvious metal chards from my buttocks, the doctor used butterfly bandages to hold the larger wounds closed. "I don't have the supplies to get all the shards out nor enough butterfly bandages. Its gauze and tape until you get medical attention, soon I hope. Now I need to get back to my other patient, if he's still alive. "
"Major, you need to lie down," Carson said.
"Before I fall down? A blanket materialized from the horse trailer and with Ben's help, I slowly lowered myself down the ground.
Manoso sat down beside me and offered me water and a bit dried fruit.
"Being around you, Cathy, is never dull; Iraq, West Virginia hills, Rocky Mountains, what next Water World?"
"What are you doing here Manoso?"
"Cleanng up my mess. I was the one who sent Marc to you," he said somewhat apologetically.
"Thanks loads, my body thanks you. I can rightfully say, Manoso you are a pain in my ass."
He smirked, "Yeah, I've been accused of that before."
I growled which only made him smile wider.
"You never cease to amaze me. Iraq, West Virginia, now here; I've never thought women could be part of an elite fighting force, but being with you has changed my mind. Darn shame they didn't allow women in Special Forces back then. You would have kicked butt."
I winced at the mention of butt, mine was killing me. There was not one position on the blanket that didn't hurt like the devil.
"The general has been watching you. From is expression, he's probably wondering how he can get you back in service," Ranger continued.
"Shoot him, Manoso. My run in with Mr. Homeland back in Walden reminded me I'm very happy not having to answer to government idiots."
"If you ever want to leave Bob, you have a job in Trenton."
"It would be closer to Fernando, but remember, I've got money in the Denver office. Plus I'm not sure I'm ready to be around Santos again soon."
Ranger chuckled. He continued, "I've got Tank as second in command, Bob has you. We are very fortunate." He sat quietly for a while, "So you and my uncle still got the hots for each other?"
Oh please tell me he's not entertaining THOSE thoughts again! Especially with my shredded ass just recently exposed. "Do you know how much you and he are alike? But Carlos, Fernando has something you don't, a zest for life. Each time I meet you, I see someone who is eating himself alive. You seem to have a death wish, you are just marking time waiting for the bullet."
He looked at me and finally said, "Who is sitting here shredded by a cougar?"
I just looked at him, read those lovely chocolate brown eyes. "Yeah, that's what I thought. You are still under contract. If you don't give up your missions you'll find that bullet, most likely self-inflicted. Mercenary work is a parasite and it will kill you. There is a life beyond but you have to want it."
I don't know what you are talking about.
You can't con Intel Manoso. You were to be Almarta's assassin, that's not something done by just anybody. It's a dirty, nasty specialized action. I knew about your group, just not member names. Heck, I probably sent some business your way. And remember, according to you I have well developed 6th sense.
He stared into space. He wasn't completely lost. He was operating a successful security business and I suspected from the way he easily talked to me now, he also now had a woman in his life. He was conflicted, I could see it.
"What's her name?" I asked.
"Who?"
"The woman who has 6th sense and your heart."
"Damn, I can't hide a thing from you or Tank."
What's her name?" I asked again.
"Stephanie."
"She love you?"
"She's conflicted but I know she does."
"Then show her how you feel."
"I've made enemies…"
"Yeah, probably despots and cartel scum. I have enemies too after the arms debacle. Mine are probably those who slipped through the Army's grasp, Turkish Army, various Muslim sects. Life is dangerous, Manoso, but it doesn't mean you can't live."
"So why are you and Fernando not together?"
I can't live in New York after this," I said as I swept my hands across the vista; mountains peaks and meadows, clear blue sky. His work is in New York. The older I get Carlos the more I dislike crowds. I could be very happy here, alone with or without Fernando, though I'd prefer with."
He looked around but didn't say anything for a while. "This is a long way from the Hamptons, Catherine."
"Yeah, isn't it great?" I was my turn to be quiet for a while. Finally I said, "Man up, tell her. Your karma will take a giant step forward if you give yourself to another."
With that I put my head down onto the blanket and immediately fell asleep.