Showdown, Chapter 5
(New Friends, Part 1)
(Okay, yes, for those wondering Christina IS borrowed from the movie SWAT. Since Rain Ocampo couldn't be with us I thought it would be fun to have another one of Michelle Rodriguez's tough girl characters drop in to the story.)
THe flight was mind-numbing. No wonder so many Umbrella troopers acted as if they were automotrans Alice thought. The constant vibration and the roar of the engine was enough to try to put you to sleep and at the same time make sure you stayed awake. So to keep from losing their edge the group gathered by the pilots' seats and talked.
Fortunately once the craft is in level flight there's an autopilot so Sam could join the discussion. Not that he neglects the insturments and controls of course, he's far too good an aviator for that. Of all of the surivors he, along with Carlos, had the best feel for Umbrella as far as people and policies went so his input is invaluable. Alice may have actually worked longer for the corporation since she had become head of security for the most important lab outside of Umbrella corporate headquarters itself but even now she remembered only bits and pieces of her life prior to the accident at the Hive and the resultant gassing she had undergone courtesy of the Red Queen.
"Based on what we know fropm other facilities we can expect a guard force. And it will be well trained and competently led and the officers at least will be loyal to the Chairman personally rather than to Umbrella," started Sam.
"Makes sense," agreed Stan. "easier to be dedicated to a person rather than a corporate entity. It's not like patriotism or for people like Christina, Jennie and Trent who were dedicated to upholding the law. But people have to believe in SOMETHING after all."
The group discussed possible courses of actions but finally admitted that they simply didn't have enough information to form a detailed plan.
"We'll just have to make it up as we go along," Carlos said.
"Fortuntaely we all are experienced in doing that," Alice nodded. "Or we wouldn't be here."
"Hopefully that will prove to be the difference," contributed Jennie, "while the group that attacked you was good, very good in fact with an excellent plan when that plan went wrong only the leader seemed capable of improvising. The rest simply waited for orders and when he fell that was it. And they were Umbrella's best from what Stan and Sam say. So we have one advanatage over them."
Alice noted that Jennie's hands tightened on her well worn but also well cared weapon. Everyone else had automatic weapons but, like Sam, Jennie favored a shotgun of the pump action often used by police because of the unmistakable sound of the action being worked. It was backed up by both a Glock and a heavy Smith and Wesson revolver.
"I suspect," Alice said quietly, just loud enough to be heard over the engine roar, "that your dealings with Umbrella predate the infection Jennie."
"Yes."
"Tell us about it?"
(Jennie's Story)
A female FBI agent that I had the utmost respect for once told me the movie she hated the most was "Pretty Woman". I didn't understand why. After all what's not to love? Hooker meets corporate raider, they fall in love and in one of the great movie finales he becomes Prince Charming to her Cinderella and they live happily ever after.
She told me the problem was that Richard Gere really isn't out there to sweep a prostitue off her feet and carry her away to a life of wealth, luxury and love. But foreign girls don't know that. They see themselves as Julia Roberts and when a recruiter for what promises to be an escort service shows up in a small town in Russia or one the former Soviet republics promising passage to America these girls, all of whom have see the movie, fall for it.
What they don't know is that they are going to smuggled into the US. For many years the most common entry point was the Port of New York. The didn't know they would come in packed into a cargo container like animals and that one out of four will die on the voyage. They don't know that they'll be crammed in the back of atruck and carried to a house, sometimes in the city sometimes all over the country, that they will never leave. They don't know there is no Richard Gere, that the men who come and use her body don't care what happens to her.
She was told that she would earn enough money to live on and all she would have to do is pay back the cost of her passage. That's never going to happen. She never sees any money. If she asks she's told it all goes for her upkeep and heaven help me her room rent. If she persists she is beaten. Beaten carefully because most men don't want to see those marks. Of course some do and they pay extra to be allowed to be violent with her. Quite often she is deliberately hooked on drugs to keep her in line.
The recruiters look for young attracftive women who don't speak English or at least not much of it. If they manage to escape from the house they have no money, nowhere to go and no one to help them. They're afraid of the local police; where they come from there is no Officer Friendly. If they DO get away they most likely will be caught and when they are caught the people running the operation make an example of them in ways so horrible that not even a pack of zombies could duplicate them.
You may wonder what this had to do with me. The Russian Mafia ran most of tbis traffic, it was an FBI responsibility and as I already said most of the traffic came in through NYC with the remainder mostly funneled through Boston. There was a slight Aisan traffic through LA but none of that should have had any breaing on the job I was doing on the Texas-Mexico border right?
Beginning a couple of years before the collapse we started hearing rumors that a new smuggling pipeline of illegals had opened up down where we were. One dedicated to bringing in young Hispanic women for the slave prostitution trade. That's when I met my FBI friend, she came down to help get a joint FBI/Border Patrol/Texas Rangers task force organized. I was appointed the Border Patrol liason to that task force.
We had to be careful. The Mexican Mafia was one of the most ruthless organizations on the Earth. Even the Russians could take lessons from them. Generally they confined their terror tactics to south of the border. And those tactics worked. They had about cornered cross border smuggling by the simple action of mudering any coyote they caught who didn't work for them and slaughtering everyone he was smuggling. Well publicized they were rapidly terrifying everyone into only using their guides to cross. That also gave them a near monopoly on the drug mules as well.
I had come across the results of one of those attacks on poor independant people just trying to get to the US. Although my job was to stem the flow of illegals and I worked hard at it they certainly didn't deserve such treatment. So I jumped at the opportunity to work with the task force.
We were good. The Rangers' Joint Operations and Intelligence Centers along the Texas-Mexico border and Coastal Bend area of the state controlled a network of intelligence operations and informants that we Federal agencies could never have matched. At the same time we had access to funding and weapons and equipment far beyond that of the state authorities. All together we made bust after bust. We basically stopped the flow of women through the state and made a substantial dent in the drug traffic and the flow of illegals.
Perhaps we were too good.
(Jennie's flashback)
Two women crouched in the bushes on the edge of an abandoned irrigation ditch. Both wore dark blue jackets. The brunette's was emblazoned in "FBI" in gold letters across the back. The one worn by the blonde read "Border Patrol". Both wore headset radios and the unzipped jackets revealed the Kevlar vests underneath. The FBI agent carried a readied Glock while the Border Patrol officer held a pump shotgun. They peered at a ranshackale adobe brick building a few hundred feet from their hiding place.
The brunette lifted a pair of night vision and scanned the area. She grunted softly in satisfaction. Letting the glasses hang free from the strap around her neck she touched the communications headset.
"Everyone check in," she said in a low voice. After a few moments she turned to the woman beside her and flashed a thumbs up signal. The pale light of a waning moon showed the grins that lit both faces
"Here we go," said the blonde.
The pair clasped hands. The temptation to be more demonstrative was nearly overwhelming but they both tamped their feelings down. The pair had grown increasingly close over the last months, much closer than anyone was aware of and certainly more so than either's department would have approved. But they were professionals and acted as such although their grins promised a great deal more later. "This is the big one," replied the other woman.
Both Jennie Gartman and Emily Prentiss tried to hold down their excitement. After months of pursuing leads they were on the trail of something really big. They had busted small and mid-level criminals, intercepted large shipments of drugs and freed a number of women destined for the underground brothels. And Emily's relentless piecing together of bits and pieces had led them here, to the jackpot.
In this dilapidated place were not only several of the tops aides of the Mexican Mafia but also reportedly the largest shipment of drugs to cross the border in the last three years. Added to that the report that this place was also used as a holding pen for a shiptment of girls bound for Las Vegas and the two women were barely able to contain themselves. They moved forward. As they got closer Jennie could see the forms of the other FBI agents moving in. Additional Border Patrol agents were out of sight, having thrown a ring around the area to prevent any surprises by additional drug cartel members.
Two white ten gallon Stetsons marked the pair of Texas Rangers assigned to the bust. Gruff, reserved Roland Sharp only nodded but Ranger Maggie Swanson gave a smile and a wink to the other two law-enforcement women. The foursome readied their weappons. The Rangers covered the boarded up windows while the entry team of FBI agents brought up the two man door buster.
"One, two, THREE," commanded Emily.
Swung by four brawny arms the steel tool did its job. The door popped out of its frame, ripped from its hinges and the agents poured in souting "Federal officers!". Flashlights mounted under weapons snapped on, bathing the old living room and its rotted furniture in light.
The empty deserted room. The room with its dust and cobwebs intact except in one place where a single set of footprints led into and then out of the room.
Emily grasped the situation immediately.
"It's a trap," she yelled. She grabbed Jennie and shoved her towards the doorway. "Everybody out!"
Jennie stumbled, falling through the doorway, barely holding on to her shotgun. Her eyes met her friend's as the other girl started towards the door herself.
"Emily!" Jennie screamed.
Then the world seemed to explode and the Border Patrol officer's world went dark.
(To be continued)
(PS. Major happenings at work this coming week and then I hope to go on vacation for a few days. I'll try to get chapters up on schedule but I may fall behind for a while.)