Itacua Echo
Both teams managed to arrive at around the same time. The only others hanging about were some rebels and the CIA men. Immediately after, the transport with Amaru and the Jaguars as they were called pulled up.
At that moment Katari come out and assist the man out of and into the safehouse with the others. "Are you hurt?" Heasked, concern in his voice.
"Santa Blanca is not the most gracious of hosts." Amaru responded, the pain didn't diminish, likely from the rough ride. "But these aukkas, these demons they had questioning me... let us say." He winced, a sharp breath. "Let us say their talk of love was enough to make me vomit."
Bowman was attentive now as Nomad noticed, getting up and focusing on Amaru. "Were their names Yuri and Polito?
"Si, Yuri y Polito."
"These are the fucks that tortured Ricky Sandoval while Sueño questioned him. I want them bad." Bowman said. The venom in her voice was evident.
"We only saw run of the mill sicarios when we hit the farm." Nomad responded.
"There's no way those two would question him there. We would've found them long ago." Mariana responded coming up. "They have their little hidey hole somewhere. And it's been tough figuring out where it is. That's where people go into and disappear... including your DEA friend."
Amaru followed with, "And I haven't seen Yuri y Polito in at least three days. Maybe four. I don't know where they are."
Bowman shook her head. "We need more intel. Somebody's gotta know something. Gather documents. Hack computers. Interrogate lieutenants, whatever it takes to get the job done."
"Well and good." Nomad began. "But we need more specific targets, or we're just going to be running in circles."
"Bowman," The sunglasses man said, "Perhaps we should introduce them to the rest of our group. If need be I can take over while you tend to other matters at hand." His voice seemed empty of feeling, like the pinnacle of an agency man. His entire being dedicated to his job.
"Uhh right. Take a moment to familiarize yourselves then deploy when ready." Bowman made for her tablet as the man approached the Ghosts.
"Fredrick Hudson, CIA. Thank you for your time, Ghosts." Well at least he tried to be welcoming. Usually CIA types were too busy getting their jobs done to be accommodating. "Itacua Echo isn't just a rebel safe house, it's the main hub for our activities. If you'd follow me."
"I think I like him already. The fact he looks like one of those agents from the 80s is just a bonus." Holt joked.
"CIA types never walk around looking like CIA types last I checked. So there's some bullshittery goin on here." Wolf responded. "Clearly he WANTS to get us to like him."
"What DO CIA types look like? In plain sight that is?" Tech asks
"I mean his demeanor can be said for most CIA types." Holt answered.
"Second that." Tech added.
"That's how it starts. Don't fall for it." Wolf answered. "Before you know it we'll be wrapped around his finger." They left the safehouse and made for the patch of shrubbery behind it. The sound of an approaching vehicle made them stop. A Polaris DAGOR, Deployable Advanced Ground Off-Road ATV with a .50cal mount. Four men with another tied up in the back in Santa Blanca getup and a sack over his head. Said ATV had bullet holes here and there, the passengers having some grime. One dismounted, looking more weathered and dirty than the rest. Brown hair, dressed more like a SOG member in Nam with tigerstripe camo and than a modern day operative. A few scratches and minor bleeding on the face and arms.
"Woods... good timing. I take it getting our new guest wasn't a cakewalk?"
"Nothing we couldn't handle. He likes to run his mouth though. A quick shower will fix me up just fine..." His mouth stopped seeing their new guests, "well I'll be damned. They do exist."
"And they'll expect our total cooperation. This is Ben Woods, one of our most experienced SOG members."
"HAH! That won't be a problem. Welcome to Bolivia, gentlemen. I take it Bowman's already given them the skinny on the op here?"
"She has. I was about to show them part of our operation and the rest of our unit." Hudson responded.
"Well, lemme fill in the details while we go down there." What Woods was referring to was an entrance into an underground area shrouded by trees from above and covered by shrubbery on the ground. Wide enough for two and a half vehicles, curved to the right on a downward manner before evening out into the large chasm for vehicles. "Back in 2013 after the Blacklist attacks, the drop in terrorist activity left a lot of room for others to take up the realm of arms dealing and drug trafficking. Among other groups, the cartels were quick to jump on that shit. They were already causing trouble well before then, so it was natural to make some sort of response to it. The lack of terrorists gave the alphabet agencies more room and resources to look into organized crime. Gave us a means to launch more on-the-ground ops against cartels. Very much what we're doing here. From that, NAR-SOG was born. Narcotics Studies and Observations Group. Really creative name, I know. After the civil war in Mexico, most cartels aren't worth the paper they cut blow on, but as you can see a few like Santa Blanca struck it big. Now aside from being where the rebellion began, Chuquisaca is our launching point for all our activities. Missions are SND, sabotage, black propaganda, strategic recon, POW rescue. You know, usual shit."
"Sounds to me like you have everything you need." Wolf answered. 'And don't need us.' He didn't add.
"For the most part. Katari's Hand have been instrumental and we've done good work, but they aren't exactly stout allies and there's only so many of us." Woods responded.
"Shit, they got plenty of fighters but they're stretched thin. We have 5 SOG teams here, 4 are currently out in the wild. Only other help has been DEA SRT teams who have been giving hell to convoys and outposts. But that's only a few men."
"Most DEA assets are kept back home to raid set up houses and detain members, while on our own front we're busy keeping an eye on the SCO." Hudson commented.
"Shocker." Guacho responded, blunt and implied sarcasm.
"That's why the man you rescued is important. Amaru is the man at the top and he's done good work keeping things going, but he has no intention of working with us. Pac's been the one we've had a close relationship with."
"The socialist guerrilla leader doesn't trust the CIA? Pray tell." Weaver commented.
"It's like this. Neither Pac nor Amaru trusts us, but Pac is pragmatic and is willing to shake hands with the devil to put it bluntly. Amaru on the other hand is a stubborn bastard. Real name's Miguel Condorcanqui. He wants to work with a 'you do your thing, we'll do ours' sort of deal. Meaning no cross-training, no joint ops, and no collaboration, dig? He doesn't want us anywhere near his operations." Woods responded.
"Guess he's got an ego too. I mean you have to have one if you're gonna name yourself after Tupac Amaru II. A fighter who led an Andean rebellion against the Spanish in Peru around the same time as Tupac Katari in Bolivia." Midas commented. "Him or the last Sapa Inca of the Inca Empire."
"Yes, and he isn't too keen on us. Katari is more than willing to work with us however, so it's a wonder why he wanted us to rescue the old fart." Woods responded. "Meanwhile we have to work with them out of both necessity and convenience. Specifically because most personnel and resources are allocated to other parts of the world to keep an eye on the SCO. So like it or not, we're stuck with the commies." And hope that these men didn't become the next Taliban.
Going through the only other tunnel entrance, the Ghost entered another large chasm with a big table in the center for meetings complete with personal computers. And finally the people that inhabited the base, and that was what the Ghosts saw so far besides a few tunnel entrances leading elsewhere with labels and signs included. Armory, holding cells, mess hall, living quarters, the works.
"Welcome to 'The Pit.'" Woods began spreading his arms out. "Our own little slice of Bolivia underground and out of the way. Used to be a big underground storage for one of the local cartels before Santa Blanca came in. We co-opted it off the rebels. They have tunnels of their own across Itacua and around Bolivia where the cartel has a presence. We have everything you need here. Armory, shooting range, motor pool, CIC, you name it, we have it. Just putting those taxpayers' dollars to work. Take a look around while you can, may not get a chance to get back to it when you hit the road."
Woods left them, guiding the prisoner off to one of the tunnels and leaving the Ghosts with Hudson. "Yuri and Polito. Quite a pair they are. What I can tell you up front is there's an Unidad base here, the commander cooperates by handing particularly stubborn rebel prisoners they have over for the two to torture. Specifically those who don't talk. The challenge has been getting one or the other without spooking both, let alone where either are in the first place. Besides that, we know there's a car they keep around at the main outpost when they're not here. So we can safely assume they're outside the province. We get ahold of that we can use its GPS to see where it's been. Big, flashy and yellow, can't miss it. In the meantime, I'll show you around."
First stop would be the armory. This part of the complex was essentially a typical range underground with some rudimentary vents to the surface to combat lead poisoning. Nothing special otherwise. The agent in charge was a man by the name of O'Malley. It was clear if anything that the Irish dialect was still strong with the way he behaved. Jovial, energetic, and awfully attached to the weapons in the armory. Not to mention being clearly envious of the Ghosts for being able to use new, experimental toys first. The mess hall was well put together considering it was underground. Plenty of tables and a few staff eating, a kitchen with personnel moving about. Enough for a small force no doubt. The motor pool was wide and possessed more DAGORs, conventional pickup truck, and motor bikes. All the way back to the CIC with hi-tech servers and and monitors linked to satellites and drones. Nomad could see footage, the words Lafuente Farm, Villa Verde, Beni in the bottom corner showing the time. It was a crisp night vision view directly above the area, with angled lines leading to forms moving close and names over them. Codenames to be precise. SOG members, no doubt. 12 in total. The view changed to infrared, glowing white forms with near perfect detail were now seen. Far more down at the farm, clearly more sicarios. Another monitor showed two pickup trucks in a running battle with vehicles chasing after them in Oruro. Vehicles either going off the road or slowing from damage or dead occupants. A third showing a team in Monte Puncu, Beni outside a collection of dilapitaded buildings in the jungle.
It was all utilitarian if anything. The short tour ended there, and extra briefing began, Bowman up taking care of other business.
"Like I said, these two are a piece of work." Hudson began. Pictures of the two were placed on the table. A tall, fairly lean Hispanic man with his chin covered in a patch of hair and a basic hairstyle. A woman on the heavier side with a bun hairstyle and tattoos on her arms. "It's the sort of thing stupid teenage girls Jeff or whatever his name was and getting married to him." Woods commented. Holt and Tech giving a chuckle hearing that.
"They worked at a hospital in Chiapas, Mexico. Poor, state-run, but it's where they met up. They hit it off and were together since then. They got into Santa Blanca when La Plaga entered their hospital all shot up one night. It was a touch and go operation considering the conditions, but those two patched him up like it was nothing. Turns out, La Plaga can be a generous man, because the he showered them in gifts. Parties, a better home, hospital overhaul, even a car. It took some buttering up, but the two were eventually taken into the Cartel and became their chief medical experts. Thanks to them, a number of sicarios get back into the field after getting caught in a gunfight. But that's not all." Hudson continued.
"These two are fucking psychopaths. They're the chief interrogators. Their expertise in healing a body means they know how the body works, and where to inflict pain on said body. When Santa Blanca got here and set up shop, they brought the two to add to their psyops efforts. What better way to scare the shit out of people than to bring your top interrogators into the area? When someone won't talk, these two come into the picture. And they went to work on Ricky before he died for 48 hours straight. Since then his pals in the DEA SRTs turned the area upside down finding him. Killed a shitload of sicarios, but they didn't find squat." Woods said.
'Probably because they killed so many in the first place.' Hudson thought before continuing. "We had a lead in our search, but it went cold. Their sports car wasn't in the area until recently, the Unidad commander they're in touch with is well within his base and has considerable protection. With the assets we had so far there was only so much we could do without exposing ourselves. But with you here now, we can at least put Ricky's soul at ease."
"So, find the info, find the love nest, find the killers. We can do that." Wolf said. "We should go after that car first. The GPS will prove invaluable and narrow the search at the very least."
"Even so, there's no telling how far their route goes." Tech noted. "We'd have to pray to all that's holy that they travel short distances in that thing."
"The camp where the car is kept, what's it like?" Weaver asked. Hudson motioned to one of the monitors where a satellite image appeared. The road split then joined back with a single north/south trail forming a small zigzag through the middle. A smaller path to the north going through a small collection of structures before joining the main road again. And a single path leading to the south. The base appeared to be mostly an auto shop with living quarters and a junkyard to the west and a fenced brick wall around it enhanced with concrete barriers and even iconic Czech hedgehogs to stop vehicles, overall forcing attackers towards the entrances. The two main entrances were made up with a smaller bulge of fortifications including more walls and pillboxes, creating killzones, so that even if the first area fell there would be a lethal obstacle for attackers. The third one to the south had a pair of smaller pillboxes, and was mostly flanked by the walls there. Inside the base were a number of vehicles. Armored pickups, some 4x4s, Humvees and transport trucks. Place was a small fort. Outside near the base was a radio tower. No doubt commandeered by the Cartel.
"There's a sizeable garrison here at any given time. This is where sicarios gather and roll out when doing their patrols and pacification runs. Usually Unidad would go after the rebels themselves, but La Plaga doesn't play well with others. There's a few pillboxes here and here, all surrounded by brick walls with a surrounding fence, mostly made to keep out intruders and attackers at a safe distance. Besides this it's supported by a few outposts around the province such as the one you found that lieutenant at, the one who told you where Amaru was. These include Campo Del Futbol El Yayo, where they keep a fleet of helicopters at, a sicario house over in the west for higher ups, and La Casa Del Mexicano, a home/base. Beyond that, nearby Kochi Town would have sicarios ready to go if need be. It would be better to hit it at night when there's less of a chance of being seen, and when the attack begins any response will only have precious moments before hitting back. Waiting will also give rebels time to gather and help you out, they've been wanting to take that place since the first stones were being put down." Hudson answered.
"Best approach would be from the north, more tree cover. If we can get some men to the south, we'd create a crossfire." Nomad observed. There's a beaten down house here at the southwest. Be a good observation post."
"Be careful, the rebels did that before and got caught. Rather than tear it down though the cartel's been leaving booby traps around it."
It was a tough situation, that was plain to see. "We should try to get it out of there quietly. If we attack while it's still in there, we may risk destroying the car." Nomad added.
"Easier said than done." Bowman muttered.
"What about the Unidad base where the commander is?" Wolf asked.
"That'll be a tougher cookie. There's only one road in and the river is to its back. Sniper towers, hesco barriers and a helipad among a sizeable garrison. The upside being these guys are pretty lax given how often the Cartel deals with the rebels. These guys are just insurance if anything." Hudson answered.
"We can find a way in, just need to watch for the caimans. Should be a boat or two we can commandeer." Wolf spoke up.
"Roger that." Nomad responded.
"The trick will be getting the car without spooking the targets after the fact. The moment this happens you know they'll be informed." Hudson said.
"Then we hit both consecutively. Get the commander to call in for them to come back. Then we hit the Cartel base. We steal the car and look through its GPS before the two know what's going on." Woods said.
Red mused. "Sounds like you boys had this plan for a while."
"We did, manpower's been the issue. Plenty of rebels at the ready but they're green as green can be, the more experienced ones are out and about performing ambushes for resources, abducting HVTs like our new friend or keeping an eye out for more hostiles. That woman, Mariana? Her Jaguars as she calls them, they were here from Caimanes to help with training and getting Amaru back. They'll be on their way back to the swamp in time." Woods said.
"As for our own assets," Hudson began, "We've played a delicate balance of hitting people who were likely to find us and backing these rebels while hitting the bottom line of the Cartel. Mostly the drugs and the money."
"There's a shitload riding on this. The map of locations and the timing of calling them back." Weaver muttered.
Such were the complications of special operations. Then again if it was an easy job then what would be the point of secret ops, special agents and other clandestine assets? The entire Cold War was filled with them with the US and Soviets outmaneuvering one another and influencing events behind the scenes, from the aid the Vietnamese took to the Mujahideen's backing. From East Germany's walls to North Korea's efforts. Even in the dawn of the 21st century, espionage and clandestine ops played a part in many world events. Two of the most notable being the Georgian Information Crisis and the East Asian Crisis, the latter being a spark for the Second Korean War. It goes to show how the shadows can have more impact than the light can. All in all making one appreciate the brains of agencies, and lament at how some lose their path with each passing year.
"We don't have much choice, we need to act while the iron's hot. Lest they get emboldened from Sandoval's death." Gaucho says. "You give these come mierda's an inch they take a mile."
"Then let's get to it!" The briefing now complete, the Ghosts made to leave. Although there were plenty of vehicles, they decided to use the ones they stole from the outposts for the time being. The sound of an argument inside the house caught their attention. It was Amaru and Katari. Nomad, Midas and Gaucho heard bits and pieces. 'Foreigners, it's our fight, too much outside involvement,' countered by 'we need the help, we aren't the only ones hit, we're barely surviving as is.' The arguing suddenly stopped, guess they ran out of juice. That's when Katari barged outside and slammed the door grumbling in his native tongue too low for them to hear. Seeing the Ghosts, he quickly recomposed himself.
"As you probably heard, Amaru and myself do not see eye to eye." He commented plainly. "He believes this fight is fought by Bolivians, for Bolivians. The old fool doesn't realize this stopped being a local problem when the cartel began exporting its garbage and targeting foreigners."
"So why put up with him? You know, besides the proletariat shit?" Gaucho asked. Katari shook his head.
"He's been in the game as you say for a long time. Both a respected cocalero AND a figure for resistance against the government. Even when he was captured we could not just abandon him. You knew that when we asked you to look for his whereabouts. Alas he has no intention of showing gratitude. You're all a bunch of gringos to him." An exageratted wave of his hands in that universally recognized 'I can't deal with this' gesture.
"And what about you?" Nomad asks.
"Me? Any man willing to kill sicarios is welcome among the Hand. You can thank me for your CIA and DEA having a presence here. Amaru wanted to send them away without a second thought." He answered. The Ghosts looked to one another with ranging subtle gestures of 'fair enough.' "And I'm afraid I must ask for your help again, for the fires of revolution are dwindling."
"Spare the rhetoric." Wolf interrupted. "What is it?"
"We were just told that one of our people managed to escape from Yuri and Polito's hideout." It was enough to make them all do a doubletake. Is that for real? Here they were contemplating the challenges of getting the location in the first place and suddenly a chance to find them just lands in their hands?! It sounded good! Too good. "He escaped to a town called Culta and was shielded by the villagers... but the Cartel has just burned it down and has him kept there for until Yuri and Polito return. It all happened while you were freeing Amaru. There are no other survivors."
The good feelings instantly went away.
"In addition we had a weapons cache there. By now, Santa Blanca has taken them and is currently heading back to their base as we speak. If you were to intercept this convoy before they make it, we can arm more of our brothers and sisters."
"I imagine you want us to head to Culta as well?" Nomad asked.
"Yes. If you would do this, you would earn my trust as well as help convince Amaru of your worth."
"We just may have to. In the meantime we plan on attacking the Cartel's base once we get information from a certain Unidad commander. The one who's in league with Yuri and Polito?" Nomad added.
"Si? If you do that we may... there will be no shortage of volunteers for this, but it'll take time. How soon will you need them?"
Midas answered with, "We plan on hitting them when night falls. Give us plenty of time to take care of other business."
"Bueno. That will work. Good luck, yanquis. I will see you at night fall." Katari left the teams for his own people. Alpha team under Wolf would hit the convoy, Bravo under Nomad would hit Culta.
"Alpha Actual to Griffin, come in." Wolf called.
"This is Griffin. Go ahead." Came Mitchell's voice.
"We're underway. Alpha is go on hitting a convoy of confiscated rebel weapons while Bravo is to make way for Culta. Upon completion we intent to extract information from an Unidad commander and hit the Cartel's main base in Itacua to take it for the rebels as well as the car of two of our targets. Yuri and Polito, the Cartel's head doctors and torturers."
"Understood, keep me in touch."
...
"We better make sure our armories have the proper material for them. Just in case. Never know when they'll call for backup or come back for a rest."
"I'll go over the inventory. We should have everything they need though, think we even have a healthy load of 6.8 for that one with the Rx4." O'Malley answered Hudson. With the Ghosts released, the CIA personnel were left to collect themselves before going back into the field.
"What's the word from the rest of Bolivia?" Bowman asked. It was true that Itacua was the nexus of CIA activities in Bolivia. NAR-SOG had beeninstrumental in monitoring the cartel's so far. But there was no mistaking that the detonation in La Paz ended up changing much. Very few outside of administration give thought to the logistics of such operations, often letting the nonsense seen in Hollywood convince the average person that it was far easier to subvert a country's populace and politics than in reality. Yes there were rebels ready to fight and being cheered for by the CIA, but if it wasn't for the Cartel or government corruption relating to it there wouldn't be rebels to upset the balance. Not to mention the romantic idea of a guerrilla fighter hid the reality that without proper backing, a guerrilla force was just a bunch of civilians with guns who were simply cannon fodder. And often times the best way to win as such a force was to bite the bullet, and bite it hard. Because whatever hurt you inflicted upon your enemy, you were going to suffer worse. So it was with other parts of the world from Vietnam to the Congo to Cuba.
The operation in Bolivia was a massive one considering the size of the CIA force here and the fact that the Cartel had opted for a decentralized approach to its areas of influence. These areas that the Cartel took over, the 'provinces,' were less actual agreed upon boundaries for administrative duties and more so concentrated pockets of Bolivia under total Cartel control. For example, Itacua was located within one of the sweet spots of temperate forests in Chiquisaca Department, formed as a military stronghold and the main interogation hub. Koani province, where the air smuggling operations are coordinated from, was at the Uyuni Salt Flats in Potosi. Inca Camina where Santa Blanca made its deals with Peruvian cartels was found in La Paz at the Peruvian border far up in the Andes. Caimanes, their sub nexus, was in Beni stradling the border with Brazil and leading into the Mamore River all the way to the Amazons and the Atlantic Ocean. Just a few areas they controlled.
Needless to say the biggest obstacle facing Operation Kingslayer's success is how widespread these 'provinces' were across the country. Again, the CIA only had so much manpower here aside from assistance personnel. Those who weren't here were deployed around world to be ready for the SCO. A saving grace being cooperation with the DEA with their SRT teams doing their share of hitting the cartel where they could, usually in the form of convoys and air transports they find for the rebels to use. The Ghosts being here would give them both more manpower AND real high tech stopping power. Yes, the CIA had pockets and access to many things, but even they had trouble getting ahold of the latest toys. All in the spirit of compartmentalization. Not that the present Ghosts had many of the real exciting stuff in their hands at the moment. Perhaps down the line Mitchell would see it happen?
The voice of an analyst hit her ears. "We got word from Socrates in La Paz. It looks like El Commandante is returning to M.O.B. Condor. He's going to be stopping at FOBs along the way and keeping an eye on Santa Blanca and the Rebels. Hippocrates sent word from La Cruz that there's discourse between the doctors within the Santa Esperanza relief center about the situation up in Caimenes with the outbreak in Lymphaitic filariasis from mosquitos. Aristotle has sent word that Madre Coca is ramping up coca harvesting in Tabacal to keep up with the rising demand for their product. Themistocles says Inca Camina is seeing an uptick in cartel attention. Some of the planes flying in with cocaine from the Peruvians aren't arriving, let alone making it to Koani. Cleomenes in Montuyoc reports that more foreign trainers are due to arrive, I've already begun gathering intelligence on the new arrivals. Phidias has caught onto some information from Remanzo that El Gato has a new head chemist to work on the liquid cocaine they're smuggling out in energy drinks. Epicurus says there's preparations for a large influx of pilgrims to Espifitu Santa within the month. As for our SOG teams, Helix has actually just arrived in Remanzo and is prepared for new orders. Team Sarissa is boots down in Monte Puncu, they found an old abandoned base the cartel made. It would be a good stronghold for the rebels. That's all we have for now."
"What about the DEA SRTs?"
"They're out in the region of Villa Verde hunting down El Wey. For the time being they're hitting precursor storage sites. Beyond that they're hunting down convoys of coca leaves."
Now it was down to brainstorming. Where to suggest the Ghosts hit next. To start, El Commandante. Intel on the man was sketchy at best, but he wasn't just some figurehead. His streak against the cartel during Unidad's war with Santa Blanca was something that would make El Marino Loko tickled pink. That garnered him a lot of admirers and a legacy of being a no-nonsense fighter. Even El Sueño knew it. He only backed down from open conflict when orders from Unidad's top brass came down. Since then he's focused on fighting rebels, but if anyone knew how fragile the relationship between Unidad and Santa Blanca was, it was him. He was a dangerous man, maybe he could be an ally... maybe. It would depend on what he did.
The discourse from La Cruz, within Tarija Department, wasn't surprising. All it took was one bad apple, suddenly all other NGOs, including the world-renowned International Development and Aid project, IDAP, was forced out. Along with all the medicine, food, water, blankets, clothes and other material that was given to the less-fortunates. If Santa Blanca really cared about the people of Bolivia then they would've just had HoB dismissed. Instead, every NGO saw its presence removed at the governments request, which itself was requested by Santa Blanca. The casual excuse of 'it happened before, it'll happen again' in regards to more possible infiltration. There's no way in hell Santa Blanca would care about a bunch of fishers and swamp folk anyway, not until they did something to impact the sub operations. Perhaps these doctors could be useful. Now add onto the fact a relief effort for a wildfire was still going on, and you have a bleak situation.
Madre Coca. Now there was a brutal bitch. She was one of the select handful of foreigners in Santa Blanca to be given such a huge responsibility in their ranks, being in charge of coca harvesting in the Tabacal region over in Santa Cruz, second only to Monte Puncu in coca leaf production in the same department. She personally inspected the harvests and anyone who made a big stink about the way things were going got a harsh reminder with a stick, and she wielded a big stick.
The news from Inca Camina was interesting. Way up in the Andes tundra of La Paz, it was sparsely populated. And being along the Peruvian border, was perfect for making flights from Peruvian cartels. Turned out being one of the biggest producers of cocaine meant you were also the biggest exporter, and sometimes you had to reach out to others to meet demand. The Peruvians were one such group, being less influential than the likes of the Colombians, they made a deal with Santa Blanca. It didn't hurt thhat Santa Blanca was a better marketer too. While not as potent as the SBC brand, the Peruvian cocaine was a good investment plenty wouldn't mind buying. A good backup plan. And if said backup product wasn't being delivered...
Montuyoc was a different problem altogether. Here the cartel has made its elite training bases. Nestled near the Laguna Colorado at the tip of Bolivia's most southern borders in Potosi, it was the perfect place to weed out the weak. Santa Blanca had plenty of training facilities for their sicarios, those who are best left being lookouts and cheap manpower to those made of tougher, sterner stuff, but Montuyoc was where sicarios went from trigger-happy coked up gunmen to the most elite members that were every criminal organization's dream come true. A former US Ranger named Bookhart had apparently created one of the most effective training camps in the country. The foreign instructors to aid in the process was just one facet. The cartel built a vast arsenal protected by a large base here. Everything from desert eagles and Bren 805s to AH-6s and license built MOWAG Piranha IIIH APCs. No doubt Santa Blanca was expecting their relationship with Unidad to change. The money trail itself being a lead, a cartel buying armored carriers was alarming enough already.
The info on Remanzo was something they HAD to leap upon ASAP. El Gato was known for being nigh unkillable. Shot, stabbed, garroted, blown up, burned, thrown from a building, run over by a car, half drowned, he keeps on trucking. But the real danger with him isn't in his durability, it's his capability. He grew up as son of a plastic surgeon for narcos and movie stars, meaning he not only has a few connections but more importantly he's skilled in managing the middlemen to coordinate smuggling routes, and knowing doctors to do surgery on drug mules. People who swallow and stash packets of cocaine along with surgically implanting them. This business of a new head chemist for liquid cocaine was bad news. All located in the spots of arid mountains within the Santa Cruz Department.
Finally was the word from Espiritu Santo in the southern edges of Beni. It wasn't everyday that religion and crime made a nasty combo. But this was one of those rare times. Santa Muerte, the saint of holy death had quite a sizable following among Central America, and it was no surprise they'd come here for a pilgrimage. Sueño renovated an abandoned Catholic mission and deposited relics there. Homes and chapels followed suit. The fact there was a network of gold mines didn't hurt either. The mined gold is melted and formed to create statues among other iconography. Never mind La Santera was perhaps the most dedicated fundamentalist of Santa Blanca's buchons. She was a natural at converting and radicalizing people.
"With the info we have I think it would be best to send them for Remanzo. It's far enough to take the heat off once Yuri and Polito are taken care of AND it would allow them to strike an important pillar of the smuggling department. Or we can send them to hit Madre Coca. The sentiment she stirs from being so hardline will get people riled up and make it easier to get sympathy AND recruits for the rebels. That will hit them in the money too." Hudson surmised.
"I say we should hit Inca Camina next." Woods said. "Cut down their little love fest with the Peruvians and destroy some rep. That and get the pain and suffering of being in the damn cold out of the way early. Or maybe we oughta hit Espiritu Santo. Helix can hit the jackasses in Remanzo, and Sarissa isn't too far from Madre Coca's little shitstain of a kingdom. I'd like to be there too, see how tough the old bird really is."
"Inca Camina is a good target too, as is Tabacal. But we aren't going to hit La Santera just yet. Same idea as Montuyoc and other regions. It'll bring too much heat. We still need to get the rebellion on its feet." Hudson replied.
"I'm more worried about Caimanes and Libertad. We haven't had any reports from these areas for a while. Hoplon is working in Villa Verde and is making their way out, so all we have now is Woods here with Xiphos while Peltast is on their way to Libertad, I know, but what else do we have?" Bowman asked.
"Nothing ma'am. Rebel presence has been all but terminated there." The analyst answered.
"Then we know what to work on next. We needed fresh intel yesterday." Bowman said. "Those subs are bad news and hitting one of their ingredients will cause upsets at the least, keep them cartel in their toes." Bowman collected her things and made way back to work.
"Bowman. A word?" She turned to Hudson. The poker face he always had betraying no feelings he was having at the moment. His big black aviator glasses made it all the harder to figure out what the man was thinking.
"What is it Hudson?" He motioned her to a quiet corner of the Pit, out of earshot from everyone else.
"Now that the Ghosts are in-country, what's the procedure?" The question was strange.
"I'm sorry?" She asked.
"What's our policy regarding information with the Ghosts?" He specified.
"We work with them of course. As is necessary and share no more than is needed as per a need to know basis."
"Even if it impacts them directly?"
Bowman furrowed her eyebrows. "... what are you after?" Hudson sighed and looked about.
"Bowman this is your plan B as you said. The 'nuclear option' so to speak, right?" He said more than asked.
"Yes. That mess from the ambush left us pissing in the wind and led us to here." Bowman responded. "I needed the best, and I'm damn lucky I was able to get 8 of them."
"For now." Hudson answered.
"Just spill it, what the fuck are you trying to tell me?" Bowman demanded. Hudson looked her in the eye, his expression not changing. It just made her irritated.
"Bowman. You're familiar with the history of the CIA... black ops in general, correct?" He asked. Before she could answer he continued. "The problem with this is you need to to be compartmentalized, which can make interagency cooperation a real problem. Especially when lives are on the line and most agencies are full of brown-nosers and glory hounds. That was one of the great mistakes we made back during the Blacklist regarding certain elements. A certain agency went cowboy so to speak. Stopping one attack in Chicago when all signs pointed to Dallas. We got angry about it. We got that Nouri guy into Guantanamo completely oblivious he was just a smokescreen necessitating more fast and loose plays, and it all culminated in the Engineers breaking into Site F and nearly getting access to a wealth of information to spread to the world. And our enemies."
She knew what he was talking about. She didn't know the exact details, only that a black unit had acted in hunting the Blacklist and had operated for all intents and purposes outside of usual vectors. Cutting off support in the process. It all started back in Guam, when the Engineers damaged and destroyed several assets at the airbase and killed a number of servicemen. She was a busy bee in those days. Sadiq was a madman if there ever was one. Unfortunately Hudson wasn't wrong with brown-nosers and glory hounds being in the agency. As Wolf had a tendency to point out.
"Problem is we in the CIA expect the world to bend over for us, forgetting our line of work is specifically because the world doesn't work that way, and we are just as capable of doing some horrifying things whether or not the ends justify the means. My father knew that when he joined, and even then he had his trials... particularly in the 80s. You ever heard of MKUltra?" A short nod of the head. It was an ugly chapter in the CIA's history. Human experiments to develop procedures and identify drugs that could be used during interrogations to weaken individuals and force confessions through brainwashing and psychological torture. Funny enough they developed from info gained by Nazi research, from which many other advancements across the board have their roots in. "Well... my father worked with a 'victim' of this program so to speak during the Hunt for Perseus... the legendary Soviet spy. He was against working with said victim, purely for practical purposes, mind you. I'm sure you also heard of Operation Greenlight?" Another nod, occompanied by a cold shiver.
This was a thankfully, very shortlived CIA program that began in 58 to place nuclear, then in 74 revisited with neutron devices, underneath European cities as an endgame to a Soviet invasion. In both instances, the plan was rapidly abandoned. But not before at least one neutron device was created, then stolen by Perseus. Cleaner yet somehow worse than a nuke. Killing all life while leaving buildings and infrastructure intact. Thankfully, and perhaps rather dramatically, that plan ended in failure.
"We got to that due to a lot of compartmentalization, plans that never should have been made, and a bit of arrogance on our end. That was mostly inhouse nonsense... that mess with the Blacklist wasn't, and now we have this entire business with Santa Blanca here in Bolivia."
"What are you trying to tell me?" Bowman asked again, this time more subued.
"My father was no saint, but he believed in what he did, and he would always tell me 'Fredrick, remember: There is no truth, only who you choose to believe.' Now that i'm older and wiser, I realize we've become very fond of that mindset in recent years, and the Ghosts are very much in that camp, especially Wolf. So whatever you do, don't omit facts too much."
Bowman scoffed. "What, you saying I tell them everything I know against my orders?"
"I'm saying," Hudson answered firmly, "be generous with your need-to-know basis. It's one thing to omit facts... it's another to keep secrets from allies. It's bad enough our op went belly up and got Ricky killed. Imagine how bad it would be if we got a Ghost, or eight, killed becuase of a lack of intel." Hudson left her after that, letting the silence hang for a bit. "And make sure you don't treat them like a hitsquad."
Atolla Farm
They were too late.
Muro knew that the moment he saw the fire raging at the farm. Amaru was either dead or long gone. The truck stopped at the start of the driveway with other QRF vehicles. To say Ignacia was pissed would be an understatement, he was furious. Muro too was angry, but he needed to know what happened before he began dishing out consequences. Exiting, they were addressed by two of the other sicarios there. In the driveway were four vehicles and bodies strewn, most charred by the fire. One being a transport truck in the midst of the now barren and blackened field. The bodies there also left ravaged by the flames. The fire itself was at the back of the house, mostly left untouched along with the bodies of the guards.
"El Muro, boss."
"What happened here?"
"It was a fast attack, only two guards left alive. The rest are dead, and we lost 20 of the men in the first response team. 14 more injured. Four vehicles including a transport truck are up in flames."
"Fucking bastard, and you didn't look for them?!" La Plaga demanded.
"Calm down, brother." Muro told his little brother.
"They took off into the forest and fields, we sent more men after them. We found nothing but tire tracks. I already sent word out so outposts and the main base know about it." The sicario answered.
"Dammit. What of the survivors?"
"They're alive, one is delirious however. Whatever happened scared him shitless. The other is still sound of mind but is not quite open to conversation."
"Come on, Ignacia. We're going to look at the aftermath."
"Amaru is somewhere out in the wild and we're playing fucking detective?!" Muro ignored his brother's outburst, going forward to the carnage before him. He inspected the bodies first. Most had holes in their head or centermass. No more than two or three. Some with a single shot. Whoever did this knew what they were doing, but of course they would. You don't rescue an HVT like this with dregs. One body wasn't like the others... his neck bent at an impossible angle and upper body scrunched slightly. He was sent flying clearly, and with how the vehicles appeared... The body in the lead vehicle was missing its upper head, just the lower jaw and tongue remaining. Said vehicle in the ditch and battered from being slammed into by the rear car. The same story with the third truck. Had to have been a heavy sniper round of some kind. .50 cal, .338... the transport truck meanwhile had a noticeable chunk missing as though hit by an explosive. Grenade launcher most likely, that or an RPG. No, an RPG would've pulverized this thing. It was a grenade launcher. That was all that could be seen. Only way to get more answers was to talk to his people.
"Just a load of rust and charred bodies." He heard Ignacia groan as he returned to the vehicles, kicking a piece of scrap metal away. Muro investigated the bodies of the guards next. Again, two to three shots. He looked about on the ground seeing footprints going everywhere mixed along the blood and brass casings. Plenty of .380 and 9x18 mixed with 7.62. Both the x51 and x39 used by western and eastern forces respectively. And of course the traditional western casing of 5.56. But Santa Blanca used it too. They had no qualms about what weapon came from where, if it was a weapon and they could acquire it, they'd use it. Even a few empty cases of a 40 mil grenade launcher. That's indeed what ruined that truck. Going further back he found more casings and- something caught his eye. Something that he nearly missed. A particular casing. It almost appeared to be 7.62x39, but it was slightly longer. He even held up one for comparison. A look underneath showing the markings read 6.8 REM SPC. Why did that ring a bell? It did tell him one thing, one of these fighters was not like the others... definitely other outsiders if not at least one. He put the cartridge in his pocket. If anything it was a lead, and possibly a future investment for the Cartel.
Next were the two survivors. One looked tired, beaten, like all the energy was sucked out of him. The other jittery, nervous, looking arond with wild eyes. The tired one was the first to notice and give proper respect, the jittery one was slower on the draw, still in shock no doubt. Price of being one of the fresh meat types and under La Plaga's command. They were young sicarios, halcone level. Not very experienced nor brutalized.
"What happened?" He asked. To the point.
The jittery one began to sputter. "Spirits, phantoms man! The rebels hit us than next thing I knew we get hit in the back by something! Never saw them until they killed us all! I saw them man! Those eyes! Those blue eyes! Like Sans from Undertale!"
"Ahhhhh please, shut UP!" The tired sicario growled. He stood to speak. "We stood guard as we usually did, boss. Then out of nowhere we got hit by the Hand. It was that Mariana bitch and her fucking Jaguars. We don't know how they found us, but we didn't exactly have the luxury of asking. We took positions and shot back at them. Our boss here called for backup, but that's when his head got blown up. We were being attacked from our back but unlike the rebels we didn't see them. So shit got crazy. Pop pop pop we were falling down. Don't know who they were but they were definitely gringos."
"Yanquis?" Muro asked.
"Yeah. At least they sounded like yanquis, but they weren't dressed like CIA stooges or drug busters. And they weren't wearing t-shirts and baseball caps like mercs or those operatives you hear about. They were all covered up in that woodland camouflage you see in the movies. Not the old uniforms you'd see rebels in. You know like the rebels wear, the colors you see on every guerrilla out there?" Muro was suspecting M-81 camo, as ubiquitous as an AK. Hell, some of them didn't even show a bit of skin. Face-masks, tinted goggles, you know? Some of their clothes looked more smooth like suits or something."
"No patches or identifying marks?"
"No, none of that. Only thing that made them stand out were their masks... they had some kind of symbol on them... kinda looking like a stylized skull jaw, you know what I'm referring to, yeah?" A short nod. "And that blue eye? Yeah, Manuel here isn't being delusional. They had a single blue light over their left eye. Every single one of them. They looked like those fancy monocles you see in video games. UGH, Santa Muerte preserve us." There was an interesting fact. Monocles over one of their eyes that glowed? What for? But more importantly who were they exactly?
"Thank you, is there anything else you know?"
"Mmmm... well, I only heard it in passing, but our captain couldn't get ahold of the lieutenant at one of our outposts... the cliffside one, what's it called? The one that Piaz was at?" Piaz, he was one of the men Muro informed about where Amaru was being kept. Looks like the rebels got to him. So they would have to check in with this Piaz and see what the hell happened with him. Only question is did he talk willingly, or did they work some 'persuasion' on him?
"Okay. You two get rested and be ready to speak on the matter later in our investigation. Get some food and drink. The rest of you keep searching for any other clues, get this fire under control. Come on, brother, we're going to the outpost Piaz is supposed to be. He has some questions to answer." Muro said.
Ignacia scoffed. "That's the least of our concerns. I bet he spilled his guts to them thinking they'd get captured, he was always full of himself ever since getting promoted."
"If so then he's just become a liability." Muro growled getting into his vehicle. "2-1, this is Muro. How's Culta looking?" Muro asked, checking with his men back at the village.
"It's all quiet. We loaded up the weapons and sent them on their way to the main base. We're standing by until further orders."
"Good. Be on alert and keep an eye on your prisoner. The rebels have found and freed Amaru, expect retaliation for Culta and keep the prisoner hidden. We'll move him as soon as possible." Word would get around fast, especially when that loudmouth Perico was informed. As Muro ended that radio call and made for another to get ahold of the base, he began thinking on who exactly may have been behind it. It was clearly Americans. The Rebels, while dangerous, rarely if ever went above and beyond with attacking installations. They were at the same level of the Viet Cong for a time until both his forces and Unidad focused on them. But just as an occupying force cannot claim victory by simply killing more rebels, a rebellion cannot kick out an invader by simply killing more invaders. It was a game of hearts and minds as well as supply and demand. That's why the Americans bombed the hell out of Laos to destroy the Ho Chi Minh Trail. So it was possible these men may have been mercenaries hired out to hit them. The United States was as much a user of the private sector as much as any other nation if not more so, this was usually in the form of established companies such as Blackwater and Displace International in the past, and like national armies these PMCs came in a wide variety of quality. Other cartels have contracted mercenaries to prevent direct conflict with Santa Blanca let alone each other. This usually came in the form of more independent men who were just as dangerous as their company counterparts. Many came into existence after the nullification of the Reyjavik Accords after 2011.
Nowadays mercenaries lacked the powerful approach the Accords once granted them, but retained their traditional role of support and being reliable for humanitarian missions along with other duties. Rumors had it some still retained some full-scale operational abilities simply with how large they were, not going beyond something like having tank battalions. South America was no stranger to this. The anti-US alliance Las Trinidad had PMCs in its ranks and even gambled an attack on Rio itself. Ironically drawing the US in and laying the stage for the Artemis Invasion. Many of these former mercs and PMCs could find employment from other cartels.
Could a cartel have contracted these men? Possibly. The list of suspects was there. At the very top were the Columbians, they always had a hand in the drug trade and had backed many parties further afield in the States and Mexico. Thing is it's all business as Sueño said, and when Santa Blanca started becoming top dog, the Columbians started getting paranoid about their revenue. Hell, they managed to convince a lieutenant to turn over some of the SBC cocaine to them. It was a small shipment, but any amount was enough to give a rival a look at how to replicate it, effectively souring relations and creating an 'on sight' environment with the Columbians. It was the same story in legitimate business such as automobiles and computer chips, just more bloodshed. Other possibilities included Los Sin Almas, 'The Soulless,' another cartel originating from Los Angeles that had taken root here in Bolivia and sought to get a piece of the cocaine trade pie. Flashy colors of dark red and a sickly yellow with motifs and stylized graffiti of a rotting hand holding a giant eye. Referring to their favorite method of execution which involved ripping eyes out and forcing the dying victim to hold them. The two had been in conflict for 3 years up to now. Los Sin Almas was much smaller than Santa Blanca in manpower and equipment, but they were still dangerous and had a reputation for being as crazy as the likes of Santa Blanca members. However the chances of this were small as Los Sin Almas were too proud to not use their own people.
Then on the other hand, the US also had a number of special operations units from Delta to the DEA SRT units in-country that can do this sort of work. And HAVE done this sort of work, they are effective if anything, and that wasn't taking into account the very real possibility of CIA stooges. If anyone was behind this it would be them. But the details of the sicaro's testimony made him second guess all of these possibilities. The attire seeming more body suit than uniform, M81 patterns, the cartridge, being covered head to toe, and the masks along with the blue monocles.
It was nothing like the image of the modern covert operative widespread to the point of being a stereotype. A shirt, usually something plaid, a plate carrier, a mask or eyeglasses, some kind of facial hair, cap or head protection, mulitcam patterns and recognizable weapons like an AR platform. Muro himself partook in that appearance, and even today still did so. Just with more white. It was obvious to anyone seeing them in their theater that they were some form of government agent or hired gun, but it was all about what could be proven. 'Those could be ANY mercenaries or agents.' Plausible deniability. The image being described suggested anything but a typical clandestine force. In fact that sounded more like some specialized military unit, not unlike Unidad. From the color of their clothes to the strange features of mask and face. But the monocle confused him the most while at the same time reinforced it being some sort of American force. They loved their toys and tech, and such things were to be respected and feared.
He did not doubt Americans were already here besides Ricky. The issue being the Americans aren't too fond of deploying to other regions of the world in recent years. Being more focused on the changing SCO and at the same time riding the high of less conflicts leading to a lack of overseas deployments. They were not too keen on delploying forces to what they considered inconsequential. Most of their recent actions have had something to do with them personally such a the sinking of the Clarence E. Walsh or the Blacklist. Or something close to home like Las Trinidad attacking Brazil or the conflict in Venezuela. It wasn't out of the realm of possibility that this blue eye device was just an intimidation factor. Some mercenaries out there were fond of such tools to get their point across, make thier jobs easier. The only links between what was going on here in Bolovia and the United States were Ricky and the embassy bomb. If that was enough to get the Americans more involved... of course that was ignoring the fact that cocaine was finding cracks in NAJSA to find its way into the States.
"Ignacia, you're going to be busy for a while. You wrapped up your business elsewhere I hope."
"Yes, yes. I delivered those lambs to The Stewmaker. He's got the ingredients for his stew. I gotta say, that fucking guy, you remember that old TV show when the old fucker played the eight-year-old kid?"
Muro cracked a smile. "Shit, yeah. The guy with the earflaps? Papa loved that fucking show."
"Stewmaker is like an evil version of that guy. And not funny." Now that was amusing. Ignacia was one of the nastiest, meanest guys in Santa Blanca. Something like that creeping him out was almost comical. At least it would be if it wasn't true.
"Hahaha... he creeps you out, dumbass? Unless you want to do his job..."
"Fuck that shit! I'm just sayin. I'm using his delivery service next time. I'm not talking to that bastard ever again." Ignacia responded sharply.
Muro's smile never left, but he was aware of how serious his brother was. "Of course, of course. I don't blame you. Kinda wish we didn't need the guy, but with how persistent the law is. We can take no chances. Speaking of, you have any updates on Ricky's body?"
"You mean... it hasn't been moved yet?" Ignacia asked him. That answered his question right there and then. "Shit. Gotta move on that..." Grabbing his phone, Muro made a call.
"Yeah, boss?"
"Is there any update on Sandoval's body?" Muro asked.
"No, boss. He hasn't shown up yet. Heck, I didn't get any notice that it even left Yuri and Polito's place." Muro cursed hearing that. Even if it didn't matter now that he was dead and the US was sending more in, they HAD to get rid of it. Another phone call was made.
"Yeah?" Came the reply, the voice of a gruff, aged American.
"Bookhart, it's Muro. I need to talk to you. We may have some new players in Bolivia and I want your opinion on this. We'll talk in person when I come to inspect the newest recruits."
"Sure thing, boss. What kinda players we talkin about?"
"Gringos. VERY likely they're American, they helped free Amaru and the descriptions are strange."
"Mm... shit. Okay, get here ASAP and we'll talk. The latest batch of elites are nearly ready anyway." Some good news. Ignacia's approach was getting tiresome. Could only rely on the backbone of an army for so long. You needed hunters to weed out the rebels. He ended the call and turned to his brother. "And you, you little idiot, you need to stay here and keep an eye on things. I get the feeling this is gonna get worse before it gets better."
Ignacia smiled. "Well at least it won't be boring... think I'll grab my M4 for this."
...
Wolf's team, Alpha, was currently waiting by the side of the road for the truck.
Tech would keep the drone in the air until the truck was in sight. You don't sneak something like that through rebel territory. Rebel watchers told them there would be two cars at the front and rear with sicarios for protection along with whoever rode shotgun in the truck. It was familiar territory for the Ghosts, and none more so than Wolf. He would take point by driving in front of the convoy when they came past. He fully expected the sicarios to react immediately, but that's where his team came in. Tech would use that drone of his to take out the rear vehicle to prevent a reverse escape while Red and Gaucho would take advantage of the chaos to nail the truck driver and whoever else came out.
"Heya, Cole." Red said.
"What is it, Josiah?"
"You sure about all this? The operation I mean, working with the CIA."
"No. No I'm not. In fact I'd rather not be here, I'd rather be back in the Sandbox. Not that there's much to do there now. Maybe Southeast Asia. The SCO is on the fast lane to becoming the next Soviet Union and we need to keep an eye on them. That's besides the point, though. I'm fully expecting some CIA bullshit to get in the way and fuck us all over like it did with Sandoval." Wolf answered.
"We're in agreement there. At least we're still shooting some jackasses who deserve it. Last thing we need is Blue on Blue." Red answered.
"I'll keep eyes on the back of my head anyway." Wolf replied.
"They may just do that. I mean how hard would it be to put cameras on our helmets facing backwards we can sync to the CROSS-COM?" Tech chimed in. "We have it for our drones and each other after all."
"More redundant stuff? You have a wild imagination, that much is certain." Came Red's scoff.
"Oh come ooooooooooon. Get with the times, old man. Before you know it you'll be facing an enemy that can see through walls and print their own ammo while you're stuck scrounging for weapons and wearing a goofy old tshirt." Tech scoffed back.
"Never heard of an army losing purely because they stick to what works."
"And I've never heard of an army WINNING purley because they stick to what works."
"That's enough you two. Tech's right about one thing, we need to keep pace with the times. You can bet your ass SCO will pull out any stops they can on all their assets." Wolf said.
Gaucho spoke next. "And we should expect them to spread their influence. I can see Venezuela trying to make a bid for membership, or at least become a partner."
"After the war? It's definitely 50/50." Red responded. The memory of Ramon Solano was still fresh in everyone's mind. The son of a drug lord who became a software billionaire and used his connections to incite a coup to become president. Having removed Nicholas Maduro, he essentially brought a 'reform through violence' to get Venezuela back on track with the failing economy despite its position as an oil rich nation. At the time he had the eyes of the world but was left alone... at least until he started making effort to nationalize the oil industry and created conflict with the armed security of the likes of Universal Petroleum. All while the People's Liberation Army of Venezuela attacked both sides, creating a three-way war that a group of Rastafarian pirates took advantage of for black market deals. During this time Mitchell led a team to monitor and put a dent in PLAV and Venezuelan efforts.
When a rig in Lake Maracaibo got blown up by a trio of rather gutsy mercs, that's when the US and China deployed. China made good use of their ties to the PLAV with hidden airstrips and jungle bases. While the Chinese would lose this war like they did in Korea, they proved they knew how to fight and how to adapt. The real sting from this defeat came in face. For Caldwell argued they would still receive oil from Venezuela to keep them from getting desperate enough to try a different region, at the cost of ceasing any belligerent action against the newly independent Taiwan.
"Something we'd have to be wary of. Not just Venezuela, who else in South America would join?"
"Mmmm yeah." Gaucho said. "And they'd be sure to ignore whatever mischief was pulled because 'the west is so evil.'" A few snickers were heard from him and Tech before silence fell again, and the waiting for the truck continued. Only to be broken by Red.
"Hey Jeffrey. If you HAD to pick a weapon that wasn't from this year, what would it be?"
"Really, you're gonna do me like that, Elmer?" He responded.
"I'm serious, man. What would it be?"
"Uuuugh... I guess I'd pick the Modular Rifle-Caseless. That little thing's a beauty."
"Okay how about a weapon that isn't a hi-tech gimmick?" Red countered.
Tech sighed with annoyance. "Jeez man. I guess it would be the MDR. That Desert Tech bullpup. Can be chambered for 5.56 or 7.62 and has an ejection system that can shoot shells on either side of the rifle... maybe I should've grabbed one of those... NAAAAAAAAAAH." He answered adding a smirk at the end of that sentence.
"You're such a jackass." Red retorted grinning. "I got this TAR right here, that's enough for me."
"You mean you won't go for something like the very first M4 carbine made back in 94?" Tech joked.
"I would grab a Fusil Automatico Doble from Peru." Gaucho said butting in. "It's a special feeling seeing a country not usually in arms creation make its own things, especially when it's where your family came from."
"Ah yeah, I remember seeing that thing in an Oath of Service game. That's a bizarre looking rifle, that's for sure." Tech replied.
"What about you, Cole? You good with that ACR of yours?" Red asked.
"I have it in my hands, don't I?" Was the reply.
"Hey no fair, you gave him a free pass, and that thing can be modified more than your decade old M4!"
"That reminds me," Red began changind the subject, "those rebels mentioned a group of other fighters here. I think it goes without saying we need to be wary of more than just sicarios. These guys they mentioned were attacking Santa Blanca but we can't assume they'll treat us as friendlies, and more importantly that they're not the only ones here."
"Think we'll be running into entire groups?" Asked Tech.
"To be on the safe side yes."
"Hey, speaking of running into groups, I got eyes on the truck. It's heading right for our position." Tech's observation was confirmed via CROSS-COM, there was the truck and the two cars guarding it. Time to enact the plan. There was a few other cars going to and fro on the road. Not enough to warrant concern for them though.
Wolf got into the jeep and pulled into the road once they got close. The convoy slowed and the sicarios, as expected, got out to address it. Clearly suspecting rebels to be on the way. Before any could get a shot off however, Tech sent his drone right towards the rear car as planned and detonated it, the resulting explosion tearing into the engine and destroying the fuel tank. No one was leaving that wreck. Red and Gaucho followed up with firing their weapons, first was the driver of the truck, then came the crew of the leading car, and finally the truck's passenger being taken care of by Wolf. Quick and easy, as it should be.
"I never get tired of that." Tech said with a smile. They moved to the truck, weapons at hand. The civilians who were nearby this split second of violence ran off or put the pedal to the metal to get the hell away from there. Wolf made for the latch at the doors of the truck's container and opened them. Nobody was inside. The weapons were though as Tech would discover. A massive hodge podge of AKs, FALs, M4s and-
"Holy shit are these Tommy guns?" Tech asked.
"And some Sterlings too." Gaucho commented. "If they were good enough for our guys in Nam, they're good enough for a rebel today."
"How about we check the bodies of the guys we just offed? Can't have enough guns for the rebels. Take advantage of the easy time we got as much as possible" Tech suggested.
"Be quick about it. We need to get this truck out of here! Also have a radio here for them to check in. Gaucho, give em a story. Red, you're in the driver's seat. I'll ride shotgun. Gaucho, Tech, you'll take the car and keep us safe. We'll take this bad boy back to the safe house and get it covered up." Wolf ordered grabbing a few of the fallen weapons. Mostly AK-12s and Bizon SMGs. Tech was right, every bit helps, and as Pac said they would need to gain favor from the rebels.
"Bowman, this is Wolf. You got Pac on the horn? Let him know we got his guns. We're heading back to the safehouse."
"No. Too risky. There's a village not too far called Yopil. Take the truck there and leave it for the rebels. After that you'll want to head for the Unidad base. Nomad should be done with getting the information from Culta by the time you get there."
"Understood. On our way." Wolf responded. "Well I did volunteer to go into the base when it was brought up. We better go over the information we have on Unidad on our way there." That resulted in an expression of disgust from Gaucho.
"Sheesh. Makes the corruption of police in America during Prohibition look innocent if the data is anything to go by." He clearly looked through the files. "Accepting money from the cartel, keeping cartels from selling in Bolivia, controlling the borders and never investigating things. But they have the resources of a modern force and the backing of their government, so it'll be as much of a fight as it would be with Santa Blanca. Needless to say we need to keep whatever contact with them with have to a minimum. As for the radio, they'll be expecting the truck to arrive at their base in about 10 minutes."
Everything in place, the team drove off and kept an eye out for any pusuit. Tech, being ever prepared had yet another drone at the ready to send out and keep a birds eye view up ahead. They had a bit of a drive ahead of them much longer than the 10 minutes it would take to get to the base. They'd know shit was happening after that.
"Well this is already different than other operations we've had." Wolf commented getting the truck moving.
"What? You never stole a truck full of guns from a drug cartel before?" Tech joked.
"I did search and destroy missions in Afghanistan, open combat in Venezuela, even deep infiltration in Africa, but this is a first for me." Wolf responded.
"Can't say it's not a bad experience. I mean we're stealing from criminals." Red said with a grin. Something Wolf had no disagreement with. It was just the beginning.
"Heya, it's that DJ Perico fella." Sure enough, that annoying loudmouth was talking.
"Heya plebes... I got some bad news for you all. The leader of Katari's Hand, the pinche cabron we all know as Amaru? Those fuckers busted him out! No shit, I just got the word from El Muro himself, and he's veeeeeeeeeeeeeery upset. By now you all should've had an alert from your bosses to be on the lookout, especially you boys down in the Itacua area. Those rebels are gonna get a second wind now that this pendejo is back out in the field and that means there's gonna be a load of ambushes, IEDs and other kinds of bullshit happening. Keep your AKs up and your noses clean amigos, never know where these assholes will pop out next and you don't wanna get clapped because you had too much blow!"
Oh this guy had no idea.
Culta Village
Bravo team saw the smoke long before reaching the village, even with the cliffs and rocks surrounding it.
The uphill drive left them exposed the moment they would turn the corner to make for the village. The only saving grace being there were only two men standing guard at the village, another jeep at their side. They wouldn't be an issue to get rid of.
"Holt... those drones have a noisemaker, don't they?"
"Yeah. Why?" But Holt immediately realized what Nomad was thinking. Bringing the drone down behind the two as the jeep turned the corner. The noise they made was nothing special, just a digital jingle akin to static. Enough to get attention. Both men turned quickly, weapons ready, their notice taken away from the approaching jeep. Windows down, two silenced shots found their marks within skulls and the sicarios slumped down. "That was easy."
"Let's not expect it to stay that way. From what we were told this place is being guarded by elites. No more skittish men here." Weaver commented. "I can probably get somewhere high to get a look at the village."
"Way ahead of you, Weaver." Holt interrupted. "We got a path that takes a good while to travel but it leads to a sheltered overlook over the village. Can get a good view. Also got a sniper there with a few friends."
"So we're better off hitting one spot all at once?" Midas asked.
"Maybe, but from what I can see, most of the hostiles are in the village roaming about. Think it's better to split up."
The logic was this. If taking the sniper and his fellows out went well, they'd have a way to keep an eye out for the fellas down in the village. If they got seen and the alert came out, there would at the very least be a decent amount of crossfire. Needless to say, being undetected was the preferred plan. Be nice to have Alpha Team here right about now. They made their move. Midas and Weaver made for the path up the cliff, long range and heavy firepower would be a valuable asset up there. Nomad and Holt would take the entrance.
"Hold on... Nomad. Remember when you brought up getting that car out quietly?" Holt asked. Everyone turned to him to see what he was thinking. "Well... you think these are in our size?"
"... you're not suggesting what..."
"I mean it's an idea. These are elites, right? All Nomad needs to do is bring up this Muro guy gave orders and BOOM, we could get in."
Midas grumbled. "You're insane, you know that?" Nomad however started thinking in overdrive. Looking to the bodies, then reaching for their gear. "Whoa what are you-"
"He's thinking to simply but, I think I got a plan for that... later though. Help me get this stuff and toss them over the edge."
While takin to that grisly business, the drone gave the Ghosts a look at the rest of the men in the village. They too bore the appearance of elite sicarios as described by the rebels. Body armor, the face masks and all white clothing. A sniper was all decked up with ghillie strands around his shoulders. His weapon appeared to be a classic Dragunov with white furniture. The others holding white G36C rifles and MPX submachine guns. Complete with vertical grips and EXPS3 holosights with G33 magnifiers.
Midas and Weaver readied their pistols as they approached the sniper position from behind. It was just the sniper and a fellow lookout to worry about. Weaver had a Mk 27, essentially a license made Glock 19, from his SEAL days, Midas finding comfort in the M9. Holt's drone left the diamonds there for the two, so they knew exactly where the sicarios were. Weaver motioned with his hand and counted down from 3, right then they turned the corner taking the first sicario watching for visitors like them to appear and the sniper. Then the other two watching elsewhere with only a fraction of a second to hear the coughs of silenced pistols. With the closest threats gone, the bigger weapons could come out. Specifically the MK 14 and the Stoner.
"You got one guy at the entrance... got two up on the chapel, the rest are in the town in pairs. We need to be careful. Jesus Christ, it's a mess." Seeing it in person was no better than through the drone via CROSS-COM. These guys didn't even take time to pick up the bodies. Well most of them. The only structures left were a chapel and a single house. The house had a couple of men tied up to support posts, chests mutilated. The chapel, well a few extra 'ornaments' were found hanging from the edges of the roof along with a priest at the tower who was strung up by his hands, throat slit. And that was just the adults. The children? Well they could only hope their ends were quick.
"You sure being quiet is a good idea? We shoot now it'll make it easier to know where they are so we can kill 'em all." Midas growled under his breath.
"Easy, Midas. We need to be smart about it. We'll have to take down a few to reach our position, but we need to move in fast and low. Weaver, keep us covered from above. Midas, get the MG ready if it goes to shit." Nomad and Holt ran for the right where the cliffside was, and where some more stable ruins were to stay hidden. About 12 diamonds ahead of them, 8 more at the other side of town closer to Midas and Weaver. Peeking around, Nomad found 6 of the 12 men near the still standing house. "The rebel has to be in there. It's the only other building not burned to the ground." Holt, can you get the drone in there?"
"Sure thing... just a moment." The CROSS-COM showed the inside, a basic home with a bed, table and small kitchen... but no captive. "Okay... I got nothing."
"Katari said they had a cache here that was looted, they probably tossed him inside the now empty hole." Said Weaver.
"Which is probably underneath this house." Holt realized. "Won't be able to sneak past all of them, especially with a prisoner that's surely been through the wringer. They got a good perimeter around the place. Cover or no they're gonna know we're here."
"Okay how about this, when the action starts they're going to focus on where the action is coming from. Get the drone high enough to get a clear view of the area so our CROSS-COMS can track them, then we can open up." Weaver began. "Then when they act, you move in and make for the house, taking down anyone who gets in your way."
"That's as good a plan as any. Okay, let's do it." Plan in place, the team made their move. Hit the high targets first. A couple men were up on the church keeping a lookout, right about the same height as the cliffside Weaver and Midas were on, down low and flat. Had he not been up here, Weaver may have missed him... though the drone made that extra hard. Crosshairs were lined up on his head, then moved down to the torso. Just enough to get a good bead on centermass. Centermass was the preferred target for everyone in general, even experienced snipers. The target's pal was on the otherside of the steeple, just as low but less exposed with the angle. Shift targets. This one had to be a headshot.
"I hit the two up here, then hit as many as I can before we open on the guys in the village."
Midas gave confirmation, and the MK14 let loose a cough. A short red splat as the man slumped over. His pal next to him looked up and over, a move to look over was met with another shot. Overwatch was down. In those moments Midas moved further down the cliff path to get a better position. Since he had the MG he'd be giving out more fire, and therefore taking more in turn. Midas in place, Weaver targeted a team of two walking away down one of the roads. Two quick shots, one after the other, and no one got the chance to shout out. 16 men left. Another pair was found. Two more shots, the first one took its target down, the other was a textbook example of Murphy's Law as the sicario took that moment to look down and pick something off the ground. The shout of 'we got company' was heard loud and clear until another shot silenced him. The cover now blown, Midas made with the Stoner with suppressor removed. The sound of MG fire reached the ears of all the sicarios in the village and they reacted in kind by heading for the gunfire, making potshots as they got into view. It was becoming very apparent these guys were no slackers as they stuck to cover. When any moved, others would squirt a few shots before making their own moves.
"Taking fire, you guys better make your move!"
Nomad and Holt made for it, running along the outermost burnt down houses before entering the village proper, most of the diamonds away and heading for Midas. P416 and Vector at the ready they made speed. "Let's be quick, and don't stop for easy kills." This was needed as the house came into view and two men were inside. Holt tossed a sensor grenade at the side. It was less of a grenade and more of an electronic device that used powerful sensors within to send information to the Ghosts HUDs, essentially allowing them to see through walls in a set radius.
"Four men inside. Better actually be working." Holt said, the bitter memory of the prototype malfunctioning in Venezuela still fresh in his mind. There were two windows and two doors, and all four shooters were covering them. No time for subtlety. Nomad made for a flashbang, took a moment to get in close, then tossed the grenade inside.
"GRENADA-" The shout was cut off by the bang, then the coughs of silenced weapons putting down the disorientated men.
"Get the rebel, I got you covered. Weaver, we're in, get that scope on us, those jackasses had to have heard that."
"That's an affirmative, got some men breaking off to reach you. These fuckers are good, but they were expecting rebels." Nomad got settled after hearding Weaver's confirmation. And spared a quick glance at the now dead gunmen. Ranging from bandanas to masks with stylized skulls to helmets, FAST Helmets to be precise. Not surprising, the helmets became as iconic to special forces as big bushy beards and sunglasses. To the point nations like Russia and China made their own copies and they were open to the civilian market. The weapons were nothing to ignore either. G36Cs and MPX SMGs. The cartel spent their money on quality gear, and likely extra for the white paint. By now the diamonds were down to 12, and Nomad was caught with eight diamonds firing at him. Weaver was on the move to keep his whereabouts vague while Midas kept firing.
"Hey, I got the rebel! He's bruised but alive."
"Hold on there, these guys have a bead on us, Midas!" The fire seemed to intensify after Nomad said that. "Get him up here and get ready to run!" Times like this the simplest tools worked, in this case being a smoke grenade. "Keep that drone up and flying, I'm tossing smoke."
Said munition was tossed through the window between breaks in gunfire and landed a few feet in front of the house, a few moments later the area was filled with white smoke, and with no wind to dusturb it, left plenty of cover. Even with the ruins around to zig zag through, these gunmen would be on them no problem, it was better to break line of sight altogether and hit the exit as fast as possible before the enemy did the same. No sooner did they run out of the house with rebel in hand did more fire come from diamonds storming towards the house.
"Nomad, you better get going. They're hot on your heels and and these guys here are making it harder to- OH SHIT!" The gunfire was joined by a new caliber. The sound of 'Ma Deuce' joining the conversation. "Technical! This guy is armored, where'd it come from?"
"Never mind that, we need to get going. Holt, get him out of here and ready that launcher!" Midas, you able to move?"
"Hell no, he's got me buttoned down!" The fire from the M2 stopped suddenly. Weaver found a new spot to fire from. "Thanks, man!"
"MOVE MOVE MOVE!" They'd recrew that thing in no time, then the truck would be on its way to mulch the guys on the ground. Midas and Weaver made for the path they took back from the path as gunfire peppered after them, whilst Nomad and Holt ran with the prisoner back through the village entrance. "Get him into the jeep there, I got this one!" Holt in one, Nomad in the other, the two jeeps started up and moved ahead to get their teammates. Midas ran for Nomad's ride as Weaver went for Holt who had his EGLM ready to go. The drone still up and running kept an eye on the inbound targets, the truck included.
"Here we go, here we go." Holt said before pulling the trigger to time with the technical coming through the entrance. Impacting right on the tire, the truck was damaged to the point of no return, and to touch it off a fire was starting. With that, the jeeps sped off as quickly as possible. There'd be no doubt the cartel called in for reinforcements like last time. This time however, they didn't have to run into any other convoys or patrols responding to the area as they made way down the road.
"You guys all good? DAMN, I love this job." Weaver's comment was met with some amused laughs. "How's our friend?" The prisoner was there but in the excitement was semi-forgotten as it was more important to get him out of there as fast as possible. Nomad had a better look at him now. Olive garb torn here and there with bruises and cuts, but he seemed okay. The real question is was he okay with his mental faculties considering the torture?
"You okay? We're friends, Katari asked us to get you out of there. We're taking you back to your people."
"Madre de dios, that seems obvious!" He responded, some trace of agitation. This was followed by a breath. "Forgive me, I was roughed up by those sicarios when they found me in the village... not that it's much condolence given what happened to the people..."
"How'd you like to help us get even? You were a prisoner for those sickos Yuri and Polito, right?"
"Si! I almost didn't get away!"
"We're looking for them. Do you remember where they took you? Where they kept you prisoner?"
The man closed his eyes thinking, his face scrunching up. "I... no... it was in the forest. It was a log cabin surrounded by trees... like spruces and oaks or whatever they're called... they removed our headsacks while we were still in the cars. I was only able to escape when they dragged me out and planned to kill me. Something about a 'pit.' That's all I know, I'm sorry."
"That's okay. They're probably somewhere close by." A cabin would be the perfect place for interrogation. Isolated, out of the way, and inconspicuous. There was a chance that it had an undergound area for the interrogations. Eliminates any chance of potential passerbys hearing the sceams too. But now they had to be quick, news would reach the cartel higher-ups about this too. And with the planned attack on the base here, heat would be on them. The amount of time before then however would leave room for a lot of nothing to happen.
Itacua Delta.
"I am telling you, Katari, you are making a big mistake taking the aid from the yankees! You do this we become nothing more than whores for the gringo!"
Amaru and Katari were having yet another argument about help from the Americans. The older cocalero was adament the Americans were nothing but trouble, just a vanguard of what was to come. No different than the time those in D.C. interfered in the politics of Latin America. NAJSA, the very force that enabled more effective monitoring of the borders and international travel within North America was just another chapter of the hegemony of the United States over her neighbors, and this crisis in Bolivia with Santa Blanca was the next domino. With the SCO growing, the US would surely return to those days, if for no other reason than to to deny it to the Chinese.
Katari meanwhile argued the help was necessary, if for no other reason than the fact it ensured that the Hand had sufficient supplies to fight. A rebel cannot fight on fervor alone. He needs food, he needs a gun, he needs a place to hide, he needs shoes, he basically needs the same things a soldier in a state-backed army needed. The state-backed soldier had taxes to purchase and create arms and equipment to arm himself with. The rebel had whatever he could find or make, and while a makeshift arsenal could do wonders when used creatively, there's a reason why purpose-built tools that cost thousands were made rather than cobbling together things from scrap.
"Whores? Strange. I was under the impression we are already whores for the Mexican." Came Katari's sneer. "We need a new supply chain, Amaru. Have you forgotten that ever since the government made its deal with the cartel, we have lost access to weapons through those who were sympathetic to us?"
"I have not forgotten... but that is no excuse. We did not ask for outside help. It is unfortunate we lost it, but we have other avenues. Many cocaleros pool thee money they are paid by the Cartel to give to us, and we are already finding assistance from outside, our friends in Peru have a good line on arms from across the ocean, and some help is making its way from old fighters from Venezuela."
"Venezuela. Don't tell me we're getting into bed with the People's Liberation Army of Venezuela?" The blank look from Amaru made Katari groan. The PLAV, despite being on the loser's end of that debacle in Venezuela, still fought on. Some of them at least. The rest either settled down and returned to their homes or spread across the continent to join other groups. A few even came to Bolivia and joined the Hand. That said they were among the most obnoxious people Katari had ever had the misfortue of meeting. They were far more prone to expressing their beliefs wherever they go. Even other fellow leftist fighters found them annoying.
Katari continued with sarcasm dripping in copious amounts. "BAH! I'm VERY sure the likes of the French and the Vietnamese did the same when their homes were under threat. The United States is closer, more convenient, and we can get more than we need all under the radar." Amaru was a good man, but short-sighted. Again, while he was a great organizer and could set up logistical backing, he did not really realize a rebellion needed more than sentiment and support from the people to succeed. You needed funds, food, and other supplies, all of which the American CIA were willing to give. Plus it was ironic that Amaru would say such things when there were plenty of men not unlike the Hand in South America all those years ago that were willing to accept that aid. The Contras of Nicaragua were a postal child in this regard.
"The CIA cannot be trusted any further than they can be thrown. Before we know it, they'll swoop in and replace our leadership with someone who will bend over backwards for them and we'll trade one puppet for another."
"You are paranoid, the Americans have more important things to worry about. Never mind Santa Blanca, if you watched TV for once you'd know the world is approaching another divide with the Chinese and Iranians gaining preeminence. If anything we should be more worried about becoming stuck between the two. We all saw Venezuela, we saw them battle over the country after Solano took power." Katari replied. Amaru wasn't entirely wrong though. Latin America was stereotyped with being led by military strongmen. The Argentinian National Reorganisation Process for example resulted in a military junta led by the likes of Leopoldo Galtieri got to where they were because of US aid in their fight against communism, and even if that wasn't the case, they may see other similar leaders such as El Salvadoran president Oswaldo Lopez Arellano.
"That just supports my point. Bolivia, Venezuela, Peru! It's OURS, not THEIRS!" Amaru spat. "I will not play part in a foreigner's plot involving our land."
"You did so the moment you interfered with Santa Blanca's plans, with the plans of the goverment's efforts to work with the west all those years ago. The sentiment is noble, but you need more than sentiment to fight a war, you need weapons to arm the people the sentiment will bring to you! Amaru, some of our people don't even have SHOES!"
"I know, and I have already prepared for that. Worst case scenario I can easily convince the people to make some. It won't be too hard." Katari threw his hands up in frustration at the nonchalant response before storming outside, the old farmer was more stubborn than a goddamned mule. Fine, let him keep up his act... Katari would accept help. So far the Americans had not only rescued Amaru but also got their stolen weapons back, so there would be arms for the upcoming attack on the Itacua base.
And yes, worst case scenario there could be supplies created.
Being the closest to the area, Itacua Delta was a perfect staging point. Hidden by a canopy, it was too close for weapons practice, but close enough to a river for supplies and patrols while also being far enough to be a sizeable garrison for rebels with underground quarters as well as the hidden surface encampments. It would be from here the assault on the Itacua Base would be coordinated and launched.
As Katari walked through the hidden camp, he took in the sight of more experienced men giving the rundown for how to use a FAL to a group of fresh-faced recruits. Just the other day these men were simple civilians. Construction workers, truck drivers, fishermen, cocaleros, miners, even university students. All young. He was certain a few were even younger than 18. It was funny, anyone who said the armies of the world targeted the young clearly missed the memo that EVERYONE targets the young. Rebel groups were no different. The emotionally vulnerable, the poor, the idealistic, all are wanted fodder. Many recruiters were once in their shoes, now with the experience and motives of their own. And with a country going through chaos and few opportunies, enough numbers can be found. Young men always want to be the hero of the people, and through recruiting the young, there is assurance the group will continue as they age into roles they are groomed to take on. As it has always been for every group. Even civil agencies like EMS workers, fire departments, grocery stores! They all relied on the youth. But of course the same emotional people that are targeted are often the same to launch an outrage as this fact about the military while conveniently ignoring that of cartels and rebels. Perhaps these very people gave a blind eye to rebels because of the "underdog" status they often had, and it was "noble" to "fight the power."
The worst part? He NEEDED them... he could only thank Pacha Mama very few were younger than 18... but that trend was growing.
"Tupac, this is Jacanas."
"Go ahead, what do you see?" Jacanas was one of the scouts overseeing surveillance of the base, accompanied by two others.
"Patrols at the base are picking up. Extra sicarios are around, they're preparing for any follow ups after Amaru's rescue no doubt."
"Keep an eye on it. What else is there?" It was a good thing the Americans got that weapon truck after all. That Hell Cannon would be instrumental in smashing bunkers and other fortifications.
"Helicopters are around. There's at least two at any time, they patrol within and around the perimeter for an hour and a half before moving. Takes around 5 to 10 minutes for the next flight to come around. They're definitely coming from the makeshift helicopter base." That would be a problem. Shooting in the air at a chopper was easy, hitting it in the right spots was hard, especially when it was constantly on the move. Combat helicopters are easier to hit when they aren't moving, then again that applied to all things in battle. The rebels were well off but even they had trouble gettng hands on proper weaponry. Even RPGs as lauded as they were only got lucky unlike what was shown in Black Hawk Down. It had to be timed.
"Caiman reporting. I can confirm." Another voice came, another scout. "They're extra busy today. In addition to their attack helicopters I see two transports armed with cannons. There's plenty of sicarios ready to go too." Another challenge. At the very least his men could keep them away with mounted machine guns on trucks, and they surely had a few of those. Simple flatbeds with M45 quadmounts on the back. But that took time and was more easily noticeable. Those extra sicarios would make it harder when they arrived. Katari was now counting his blessings with being so connected with the CIA.
"Stay on watch." He ordered. That was his last report on what the situation was, it was now or never to get the plan in place. Inside one of the tents were his subordinate commanders.
"Peccary here, we're ready to start that distraction when you need it."
"Good. Remain on standby." Katari responded.
"Commander?" The voice of a particular female came.
"Mariana? I was under the impression you were going back to the rivers."
"I am, but I'm in no hurry. Those narcos need time to know I'm not going back there anyway, keeps the meat stewing in complacency." A grin forming on her face.
"I thought fear made them taste better."
"Mmmm yes but it gets old fast." She shrugged. "That and you need to travel every now and then for new hunts." Her grin vanished shortly after, looking around. "You had another argument with Amaru?"
Katari groaned. "The damn fool cannot see how precarious our situation is. We were able to make do when the government and cartel were fighting one another. Now though, it's all against us, and our only reliable souce of supplies now is the Americans. He thinks we can get by on locals and fellow South Americans."
"Indeed... Amaru is right about one thing. We need to be careful, Katari."
"GAAAAAAH I told him and I told you-"
"Listen!" She interrupted. "YES we need the supplies. What I'm saying is we keep our relationship to a minimum. We do accept too much from them, they're going to feel like we owe them a debt, and I'm especially sure this Bowman will be the worst of the bunch."
"Miss Bowman? I know how you feel about her. You needn't worry. " Katari didn't blame Mariana. Bowman had this tendency to walk around as though she was the king of the roost. Was it the fact she was a woman in a predominately male-dominated field? Or perhaps a sense of deskwork. Perhaps, Mariana herself had proven herself through deeds and ability. It's how she eventually became leader of the Jaguars. But unlike whatever went on in the United States, fighters of both sexes could find a place in groups down here.
From there the two entered the tent and began planning with the rest of the rebels collected. It had to be a quick strike... and one that needed a distraction to draw helicopters away. That's the easy part. An attack on the helicopter base itself, a feint. Another at the boss house, and finally one at Kochi to draw more men away. They would be able to time it perfectly when the information gained from that Unidad commander was gained... IF it was gained. That was the catch, if they failed they would surely spook Yuri and Polito and it would all be for naught even if they took the base. Whatever they did, they HAD to avoid dropping too much within the base itself. They wanted to occupy it after all. Plus they had no real solution to the barricades lining the walls, so they HAD to go through the fortified entrances. The Hell Cannon would help. The good news is that besides the new blood, the Jaguars' presence, and the recovered weapons, the decision to hold off until nightfall resulted in more men showing up to play than were expected. Combine this with the Americans who would attack from the north and the south.
It had to go well. This would make or break the rebellion.
...
Every now and then, you'll find someone in a position of responsibility who just doesn't belong there.
Sometimes they possess merit and just end up not qualified for the position, but can save themselves and even their careers by stepping down gracefully. More often than not though they are full of themselves and/or fumble things to the point of no return. Both types can end up refusing to step down. Piaz was one such man. He was competent enough at his job despite being full of himself if what Muro was told could be believed, but this time he couldn't salvage his situation. That was evident with the fact he was currently tied to a chair with Ignacio going to work on him.
When Muro and his little brother reached the outpost, they found the garrison slaughtered. These were the lower end of the Santa Blanca ranks, but the manner of their deaths showed whoever hit them were pros. There was little doubt in Muro's mind it was the same Americans who found Amaru. The bulletholes were clean and precise, and the lack of brass casings was indicative of how there was no fight. They didn't even know they were being attacked. All were dead save for Piaz, he was laying on the ground inside a tent, out cold with a bruise on his forehead. When he came to he found himself looking at a neutral Muro in the back of a car with Ignacia driving back to La Casa Mexicano for 'questioning.' Now obviously the moment he came to in that car he played it cool, and began to report what happened to him, only for Muro to tell him that he already knew, because Amaru was long gone now. Piaz's face drained to be nearly identical to that of the Santa Blanca white. He knew what was coming and began with every excuse in the books. Muro heard it all before, but he said nothing about it. There was no need. So he left Piaz in that uncomfortable silence as they travelled.
When they reached La Casa Mexicano, the man was taken to the basement for "questioning." Ignacia's hacienda was too far away, and they still needed answers on these Americans. Because if they were the same ones as the men who attacked Atoya Farm, then there would be a link and a better idea of who they were since Piaz woudl've actually seen them up close, however long that woudl've been.
But first.
A lesson in 'loyalty.'
Muro stepped out to let La Plaga work on him. The screams barely broke through the floor, but broke through they did, not that it bothered Muro much.
"Heya boss..." one of the sicarios began, rather hesitantly.
"Yes?"
"What'd Piaz do? La Plaga's really going to work on him." A fair question, when the head of security comes in with his head sicario and begins torturing your immediate supervisor out of nowhere, questions were bound to come up. Every now and then a sicario asked a question when he should keep his mouth shut, it has happened many times. This time however? It was worth some explanation.
"You know Amaru is free, right?"
"Yeah, everyone here heard when DJ Perico talked about it. " Figures, that loudmouth was all over current events in the country. It made him a good radio man.
"Piaz spilled his guts to his rescuers. Apparently he overestimated our operational security, AND his importance." Being up front was telling, not only did this sicario know what happened, he was learning an important lesson. His getup showed he was a seasoned fighter, but being seasoned still meant you had things to learn. This was one of them. No, it was a reminder of a lesson: Do not betray the cartel.
"Fuck... so that old man is back out..." He was shaking his head.
Muro's phone rang. Sueno. "Yes, Sueno."
"Muro, do you have any updates?"
"Yes. It was Piaz, the new lieutenant here in Itacua. Apparently he thought he was being cocky by telling those gringos what they wanted and was sure our men would've wiped them out."
"That is... unfortunate. He had potential despite his arrogant behavior. Perhaps he was promoted too early."
"Perhaps, La Plaga is working on him right now. All I need to ask him when he's done is if these gringos really are the same ones who questioned him."
"Good. When you are done, see to it Piaz is properly disposed of. I have no use for arrogance with Amaru on the loose."
"Of course." Potential? If it was there, Muro sure as hell didn't see it. Hell, he didn't even know how Piaz got his spot in the first place. He sure didn't promote him. Piaz made good for a tool of fear, killing a few rebels when the need arose. But little else. All that said, he was grateful that La Plaga only had so much to punish the man with. Nothing like what was seen in the videos or what he had at his hacienda. Torture always made Muro's stomach churn, leftover sentiments from his time in the Mexican Army. Leave that to La Plaga. Speaking of the man, he went back to the basement to see how the punishment was going. The muffled screams became more pronounced. Sharp, loud, and excruciating. Piaz was now bloodied, his face covered in cuts with his torso full of gouges that destroyed the tatoos on his body. He was bleeding all over the chair and floor. Guy looked like a corpse that refused to die like in those video games... what were they called, Silent Hill was it?
"Enough." He said, urging Ignacia to back away. The man didn't seem too happy either, probably because he didn't get to use something he thought would be exciting like a chainsaw. "Piaz, you know why this is happening do you?" His response was a subdued groan of pain. "You're not being tortured because you know something we want to know, but because you fucked up. BAD. Amaru is out there now, along with help from those gringos."
"Boss..." Piaz began, but just stopped, he seemed to realize bargaining was pointless.
"Whether or not you are punished further depends on how you answer these questions." A glass of water was provided for him, more to wash his face from lingering blood. "Now then. What happened before you were attacked?"
Piaz cleared his throat, then started. "I was on the phone with my guys who were dealing with Tacua. The executions were all carried out, but they were taking their sweet time basking in the fear. I told them to hurry the fuck up. The rebels could've made a move on us at any moment. The moment I hung up, I was on my ass and they were there." That checked out. There was an execution and the bodies were still there when Muro went by. The men had made their way back by then. When he arrived they found them looking around, and Piaz's unconcious form on the ground in the tent.
"What did they ask for?"
"They wanted to know where Amaru was. Right there and then, then I got clocked in my head. Next thing I knew I woke up in the truck with you." Plausible. Nothing else happened after Amaru was hit.
"Now, these fighters, what did they look like?"
"They... there were four of them, they were all covered up. All I saw was their eyes... well eye, the left had some big blue computer or something over it. I remember because it was so out of the ordinary, and it had some kind of tech shit scrolling across it. They had helmets, vests, the face masks and all that, all in a camo pattern from the 90s or something. Green, black and brown." That lined up with what he heard before. Sounds like M81. It was the same guys.
"Last question... were they Americans?"
"Yes... one of them at least. The one who spoke to me."
"Good. May you find forgiveness in Santa Muerte's embrace." Before Piaz could even realize what was going on, Muro pulled out his M9 and put a shot right between the eyes of the now disgraced lieutenant. Desert Eagles were more of a status symbol to him, in the same sense a sports car was. Particularly in that they always reeked of possessing a very small penis in Muro's eyes. Besides, a 9mm was a better choice for the man. Easier to control anyway.
"Awwwwwwwww come on, I would've made his final moments agony." Ignacia whined.
"Not the time for that. We have Amaru out there with four gringos running around. We need to put them down before-"
"Muro! Muro! This is 2-1!" His radio was going off... his men at Culta!
"Go ahead 2-1."
"We're being attacked, can't see who's hitting us! It's not rebels! Sniper and machine gu- AFTER THEM! They got the prisoner!"
"Stay on them, 2-1, don't let them escape!" Now his guys at Culta were being hit?! Shit. His brain began processing and remembered the truck. He called the driver. No answer, NOT GOOD. He called the base next. They said a truck never showed up with weapons. So not only was Amaru now free and his men were being attacked, the truck full of weapons didn't show up. For all he knew they were headed back for a rebel strongpoint to be distributed to fighters.
"What do we do, Fransisco?" Ignacia asked him, for the first time in a long time seeming unsure.
"You are going to hold the fort. Keep doing what you are doing, fight rebels, hunt them down, make them scream. I need to get to Bookhart as soon as possible. If anyone knows who these strangers are, it's him." These had to be the same Americans, he had no other suspects. Yes it could've been another group of outside mercenaries and bleeding hearts with guns. But this close to the release of Amaru? Plus, being head of security he couldn't respond to every incident. He couldn't keep playing catch up, that's what his many lieutenants and even little brother were for. He had to be ready for other really big moves, be they other cartels or government agents, and that was just part of his operation. There were also convoys he had to be sure were making it to their places, men being trained, prisoners being... dealt with. In addition there was always the possibility that his men would need to make a point for those here in Bolivia. Being the head of a division of a cartel meant you inevitably had to get out of the field and push papers.
For now, he would get back to Culta, then figure out who these Gringos were. Then try again with contacting Yuri and Polito. Perhaps Bookhart could make sense of this cartridge too.
9:00 PM
Near main Santa Blanca Base, Itacua.
There was one more difference between Amaru and Pac. Pac didn't hesitate to get his hands dirty.
He of course had a close cadre of some of his finest fighters nearby at all times. But why not? This was not medieval Europe where kings and statesmen took part in battles. Few modern leaders, if any, ever go somewhere unattended. It was not always so, when Pac first started his fellows came and went, from death or moving on, but one or two always came back and became some of his finest. Back then the Hand was just one small band of rebels among many, and the drug cartels were made up of the likes of the Santa Cruz Cartel, La Corporaion, the Medellin Cartel, and the Comando Verhelho. The Hand was found as a means of protecting against these forces along with the corruption they fostered in the government, all of which led to Pac's men becoming better fighters. Then along came those wretched Mexicans in Santa Blanca and that all turned upside down. The local cartels were destroyed or absorbed, the government became the cartel's bitch, and the people suffered for it.
Now here Pac was in charge of a force that was given a boost in capability, but ran lower and lower on morale. All this was just encouragement for what why the base was needed. It would be the perfect place to have a new gathering for his people to consolidate further along with more space for supplies, more weapons to gather along with whatever they could salvage after the fact, but most of all it would be symbolic. The rebels so 'weak and beaten' taking a base meant to deal with them. It was an open secret they had American support, but then again who didn't? You may as well be saying the sky is blue. It was amusing how the concept of what you know vs what you can prove was taken seriously even outside the United States. Of course that was in cases of law and regulation, this was revolution, and revolutions rarely had the time for such niceties. Let alone saving your people from a foreign cartel.
Right now they were making their way to La Casa Del Mexicano just outside the base. He and his men armed with the mixture of M81 and olive garbs and stolen AR and AK rifles in near mint condition. Not painted or modified in a way suggesting 'amateur,' and finally old night-vision goggles, the AN/PVS-7. Single tube bioculars. They still had a home in the US Army amongst other nations and various non-state actors. With luck they would catch La Plaga there. Last reports said the little shit was in that building with his brother. But El Muro left shortly after, last seen making way to the west by helicopter. Undoubtedly to check the progress of training in Montuyoc. If La Plaga could be taken then the impact by the attack would be increased tenfold. The man would pay for his crimes. The men with him moved slowly and surrounded the house, like a boa snake coiling around prey. There was no one outside, but lights were on. They expected people were inside. A pair of men made for an entrance while others made for the second floor stairs. Pac joined those on the bottom, his own weapon being an AKMS. That main variant of the AKM with a folding stock. Included was also a silencer and a Russian Kobra sight. There would be silence until the attack began. The bottom door was busted down, exposing a view of a table to the right and further ahead against the wall in front of a set of stairs was a couch. Both of which had sicarios watching the big tv. They heard the door upstairs busting down too, the only other sound being shouts of profane Spanish and silenced rifle shots.
Pac made way in immediatley, aiming at corners and checking the place. Nothing. None of the targets were La Plaga. If he wasn't here, there'd be a slim chance he was in the base... though that was unlikely. He was probably on his way back to that big hacienda of his. So it was they investigated the rest of the house. All that was left was the basement. Opening up that door the smell of crimson iron came. Blood. Someone had been dealt with down here. Fighting was one thing, but the stench of death was something even Pac couldn't bear. Covering his face he came down and saw the source, a dead man covered in blood, tied to a chair standing in a pool of his blood. It was the lieutenant he asked the yanquis to interrogate. So they didn't kill him after the fact? That surprised him, but not entirely so. He was dead now, but at the hands of his own. Likely after Amaru was freed, treachery whatever its cause was universally looked upon with disgust, but only groups like Santa Blanca went so far.
"Bowman, Hudson, I have news about the lieutenant your men interrogated." Pac said into the radio he carried. A guerrilla had to make due with what they had, and that included radios. Little more than walkie-talkies and off-the-shelf models like a Motorola one would expect a humble security guard to use.
"What's up, Pac?" Came Bowman's reply.
"He's been killed. It seems he was found out. The Cartel will be aware of something going on. No doubt the rescue at Culta has increased their warriness."
"No doubt. We haven't heard anything about a call to Yuri and Polito, but we can't assume anything." Bowman replied.
"So long as we get the commander to spill the beans on their whereabouts and get the GPS from the car, we'll be okay." Hudson said next. "In the meantime I'm preparing things on my end. How about you, Pac? Are your people ready?"
"We are. You just worry about your end. The house is secure. I will be moving on that radio tower next." Pac responded. Putting down the radio he called to his men on the second floor. "Tito, Vidal, do you see anything up there?"
"The rest of the place is clear." He heard Vidal call back. I see a few men by the radio tower."
"Stay here and cover us. We'll take care of it." Pac made way with his other men, Ramiro and Amilcar, through the dark. These sicarios were complacent. Good. La Plaga's decision to send fresh meat here would finally bite him in the ass. Ramiro and Amilcar took an individual sicario at either side while Pac took a third, the last one at an edge looking over at the base. Ramiro came behind one man and slit his throat, Amilcar grabbed another, hand over his mouth and jammed a knife into the back of his skull, the third was taken down by Pac, grabbed, bent backwards and stabbed straight into the heart. The final man turned around, as all this happened, only for him to receive a shot to his head from one of the men back at the house. It wasn't just him of course, around the base's perimeter and in the trees, more guerrillas had been slowly gathering and coming forward. Assault elements to attack the base with mobile heavy weapons to provide covering fire. The plans themselves were made well in advance for this. A Hellcannon would fire to open holes in the base, spots chosen for machine guns would be used to keep any sicarios from peeking out to shoot the advancing men who would finish them off. A few recoiless rifles for heavier firepower, and finally vehicles bringing in more men and stave any counterattacks. Help from the Americans, whatever it was, would be appreciated. From what he heard this Hudson had a plan, something involving an old Robinson helicopter.
He turned back to the trees from where he came, taking out a small light and lit it twice. From there the rest of his people came forth to prepare. "We are assembling at our positions." He called into the radio.
Now it was time for the Yanquis to make haste.
...
"Well... here we go."
Midas and Nomad were the designated 'infiltrators.' Midas being a natural speaker and the looks to match thanks to his Honduran father and Mexican mother. Nomad was the head of the group, but would ride shotgun for this. The clothing of the elite gunmen they killed fit them. Plate vests, balaclavas with holes for the eyes. Complete with white shirts and pants. The bloody parts from the shots would help sell the idea they were survivors with a bit of dirt, while dust on the stolen jeep would add onto it with a few shots from their own weapons to sell the idea.
"Well. Here we go." Nomad muttered, at least thenkful ahe could wear the mess of clothing over his suit. The boots also stayed on. Honestly, how often did you look at a man's shoes? The biggest issue was the lack of his CROSS-COM. The cost of using advanced tech was when you were deprived of it you felt exposed or vulnerable. Diminished. Aiming and firing weapons was second nature to him, but the strength of the CROSS-COM was being able to keep track of targets and staying connected to his men. It was a feeling he did not envy, a reminder of how specialized Ghosts were. "How do I look?" He asked whimsically.
"Like you belong in Guantanamo." Midas responded with a chuckle.
"Look who's talkin, choir boy." Holt jabbed.
"Hey now, that was just a phase."
"So you're going in while we take up positions at that run down house? We'll be able to take down the guards from there at least, make it easier for you to leave once the car is found. Getting it there though is going to be the big obstacle." Weaver commented.
"Not to mention if this doesn't go well we'll be stuck in bandit country." Midas said.
Nomad sighed."It's worth the chance. Once that attack starts it's almost surefire that car is going to be hit and we're short a step of finding Yuri and Polito. Bowman, is Pac up to speed on our plan?"
"He's aware, he'll wait for you to be clear or god forbid you get caught up. Either way the attack has to take place. Our boys added the work to your ride to sell the idea. Oh, and a bloodpack." Was the reply.
"Say what?" Holt asked caught off-guard
"Fake blood that is. Let's just say Woods has a tendency to add flair and impact to training every now and then." No argument there, but it was strange if anything. This Woods guy was certainly quirky. Nomad took shotgun in the now beaten-up jeep, finding the blood pack on the seat, and for a brief moment Nomad wondered if it was intentionally left there as a sick practical joke. Shaking the thought he took it in his hand as Midas took the wheel and backed out of the rebel base. Holt and Weaver took their own stolen jeep and left ahead of them.
"You thought about what you were going to say once we pulled up?" Nomad asked.
"We're survivors from a rebel ambush further off. Our radio was damaged and we had to race back home here. If they give us shit... I imagine we being elites will be enough to get the dregs running security some pause."
"You think it'll be that easy?" Nomad asked.
"For sure. The hierarchy in a cartel, any cartel, is established. Combine that with the fact we know most of these guys are newbies, we're clearly victims of an attack, we're high up on the food chain, you usually don't have your best men guarding a base, and finally they're probably going to be slow on the take in general with how sudden it is, we'll be fine. So long as we don't run into any other elite sicarios."
"What for?"
"We have to assume they can spot an imposter if given a chance. If these guys are as capable as those two rebels we met say they are, then we can't assume they won't overlook a few issues, such as a lack of tatoos or the fact you're a gringo."
"It's hard to argue with that logic."
"We'll be fine so long as you keep your mouth shut, save a few groans to sell the story." Midas joked. They continued down the road with their one headlight, picking up speed. Nomad had to hope the other pair in his team made it to that rundown spot just fine. The thing about the CROSS-COM was it always told you what was where as far as your team and assets. Even when it ran into systems glitches as all tech did, it would do its job just as it was designed to do. Not unlike a Hellfire locking onto a tank or a satellite beaming pictures to a command center. Not seeing the blue diamonds in his periphery made Nomad uneasy by the minute, and he couldn't wait to get out of this getup and back into proper attire. Most they had at the moment were earpieces loaned from the SOG forces.
"Coming up. Game time." Upon hearing that, Nomad crushed the pack, letting the fake blood pour onto him and mix with the mess on the stolen shirt. Slowly it was looking like a real mess to the untrained eye.
"Watch it now, Speedy Q." Holt jested over the radio. So they made it. Good. The jeep rolled up to the south entrance in a hurry, creating alarm for the guards there.
"HEY! What the hell happened to you?!" One cried out from in the pillbox. Nomad thanking god he didn't have to speak Spanish back to him.
"We got fucked up by some rebels, rest of us are dead and my friend is hurt bad. We need to get in now!" Midas replied.
"Rebels? Are they coming here?!"
"I don't know. It was an ambush! I'm just lucky I didn't blow a tire! Now open the damn gate, he needs a doc!" Nomad added to the conversation with a loud groan of pain, hoping that would make a spur of the moment choice for them. Luckily the men standing guard oblidged and let them through the opening door. "We're in. Put the place on a bit of an alert with that though."
"We'll make it work to our advantage." Pac answered. "Do what you came to do and get out of there." Going in, one of the guards pointed to a structure further in the northern part of the base. Said base slowly but surely coming to life with men clearly in charge screaming about as their lessers went to and fro.
"Wish I had my CROSS-COM on. Could show them what was going on up close... think we can cause some chaos in here before we leave?" Midas asked.
"Maybe." Nomad replied. "Let's get to the clinic and we'll see what we can do." A couple of turns took them there, Midas parking to the side and exiting to 'help' Nomad inside the place. Lead by clearly civilian individuals they went through a lobby and into a section with beds. All empty by sheer luck. With just the two docs here it woul dbe that much easier. Upon being put onto one of the beds, Nomad began laying down as Midas kept his distance to let them work, allowing them to remove Nomad's plate carrier. Before grabbing scissors to cut open the shirt, Nomad grabbed onw and locked an arm around their neck, Midas taking the other and holding firm. The docs struggled, grew sluggish, then went unconscious.
"Pac, Bowman, we're in. In a moment we'll find the car and try to hit targets of opportunity before the attack."
"If possible try to avoid sabatoging too much. We want to take the base, not destroy it." Pac reminded. First they had to get Nomad a new shirt. They wouldn't be able to walk around freely if he looked like a bloody mess. They did see a building labeled 'armory' on the way there. Surely a few vests could be found. But first, putting the docs in the beds. If anything they would be seen as patients. Half-assed but it had to be done... and meant they were on a timer.
"Wolf, this is Nomad, we're in the cartel base and looking for the car now. What's your status?"
"Outside the Unidad base. Making our move right now."
"Understood." Came Nomad's reply
It was a small structure, in side the one entrance were two men inside a comfy cubicle, and when they saw the attire, waved the Ghosts through immediately, Nomad careful to keep his back and side to them to hide the bloody shirt. Entering the armory proper, they found that it had quite the selection. In addition to the new vest and shirt that Nomad needed to stay undercover, the selection of weapons yieled a wide variety of other modern weapons. M4s, AK-12s, G36s, 805s, MP7s, Bizons. Even some Spas-12s, Dragunovs and M40A5s. A good place to grab ammunition and spare guns if anything. And a prize for the rebels. In addition was a healthy cluster of M112 C4 bricks. 8 in total. They of course grabbed them, stuffing them into a backpack. A compact assault pack ot be precise. Not unlike the packs used by militaries in the western hemisphere.
"The distraction is beginning, Nomad." The Pac said, "we see a small convoy of vehicles moving out to hit Kochi. Counting 5 vehicles, two technicals and three cars. In addition my people are seeing more sicarios entering the outer defenses. Taking your cover story and the distraction into effect, they're preparing for an attack.
"That's a few more men we don't need to worry about." Nomad mused. Santa Blanca was prepared for an outside assault. But they had no reason to suspect anything going on inside. Nomad and Midas were closest to the western entrance, where a good number of rebels were expected to attack from. So a visit there was justified. "We stick together, and keep to ourselves." Midas hefted the stolen G36 and made for the door with Nomad following. They waved to the guards, who returned the gesture, and exited before turning right. Walking down the short road they got a better look at everything, seeing more sicarios up close and personal without the pressure of being shot at. Not that there was no pressure. They were after all infiltrating, and all of these men were potential hostiles. That said their attire helped, anyone looking their way would give one of those upward nods of the head or get out of their way, even a look of awe. Seemed comparable to some mercenary types he's heard of that operated in Africa and Southeast Asia, the sort of men who could ask for noticeably higher rewards and walk away with their heads still attached. Or in this case, the sensationalized narco operatives. That would help them get through this place. The other inhabitants were milling about, nearby were three sicarios playing about with dice in some street game. One groaning in frustration as the other two laughed, clearly a bad play.
The wall of the west entrance bore the gate that split open at the middle. At the edges of where the two parts opened were doors leading to the pillboxes, it was through one of these doors the two exited and into the section, a small covered concrete bulge leading into the pillbox where a man rested at a mounted NSV gun. Leaning on it's user end specifically. Hearing the two enter he looked back, "Santa Muerte" tatooed across his eyebrows, his surprise was evident, though he left them with just a greeting. Midas played up the disguise by looking out the slit casually, allowing Nomad to plant a single block underneath a nearby table with the man's weapon and some food.
"You think they're out there?" The sicario asked, eliciting a look from Midas. "The rebels. I heard some Americans busted Amaru out."
"Not surprised." Midas responded.
"Some guys are talking about how the CIA is finally getting its act together, and we're a few steps away from losing this base. As if."
"Yeah. As if." Before the conversation could continue, Midas walked away as Nomad finished up. The two leaving out the side door and moving to the other pillbox. This one unoccupied. Another C4 block down under another table. That should be enough for here. They made way through the door on the other side before continuing down. This side of the wall ran across an open space with a shooting range used by only a few men. Behind that were two more structures, speculated to be warehouses with food, fuel, and other supplies. Those would be left alone. Instead they would follow the main path to the other parts of the base.
A quiet radio call now. "Hudson, Pac, it's Nomad. We set up a couple of C4 blocks in the secondary pillboxes at the eastern gate. It'll cut down on the firepower responding to your men attacking from there. There were NSV machine guns set up in the two, expect more."
"Good. If you can check out the roof of the central structure. It's a large garage where they store and fix vehicles, we believe a mortar is placed there. It also may be where Yuri and Polito's car is located. We can't see it from our vantage points." No way you could miss a flashy car. "There's also a generator there, you destroy that, they'll be in the dark. Two of those structures near the armory you were just in are places for sicarios to sleep. A few explosives there will wipe out a number of fighters. If you could also throw a few C4 bricks at the eastern entrance we can keep them off balance."
"Looks like we got a few things to do. Let's get going." Nomad said. The two made their way to said garage. It was indeed big. Big enough to hold maybe four or five vehicles at a time for repairs and storage. The activity of men running about when they came in had died down now. Most men likely in places within the base or at the entrances. Their path was clear, for now. Inside the garage was empty of occupants, but they found room for, as Nomad suspected, 5 vehicles. 2 spaces were empty, 3 were occupied. 2 were F-150s in the process of being up-armored with grated armor on the windshield and plating on the doors and front bumper, all that was missing was a mounted weapon, and there were plenty of neatly organized weapons here from smaller FN Mags to even what appeared to be a Kord machine gun. More pieces of armor were located here and there. This was no makeshift fleet of vehicles like narco-tanks. The final space was reserved for a gold-plated sports car. THEY FOUND IT.
"Midas here, we found the car. Repeat, eyes on Polito's car."
"Good work. Now just get it out of there. Carefully. A few bumps and dents won't hurt but we can't afford a gunfight."
"We're going to lay some more explosives to help with that."
"Understood. Be quick."
"Weaver, Holt. When we come out we'll need a hand to get out the gate. Be ready" Nomad said.
"Affirmative. Not that many over here. Counting around 10." Was Weaver's reply.
"We'll inform you when we're nearly there." The two made for a staircase leading upwards. A hole in the ceiling leading to a door outside to the roof. Up there was the mortar and surely other men looking about. Nomad still had his 1911, silencer attached. Midas's own M9 was ready to go as well if they decided to do some cleaning up. Exiting they immediately put that thought aside. The men up here were spread out, even though there were only 9, but close enough to see any mischief going on. Blending in was the game. And smack dab there was the mortar they mentioned... a Soltam K6. All the way from Israel, the mortar found a home in armies across the world, like Bolivia here and even the USA as the M120. It could traverse a full 360 degrees on the base plate and was supported by a bipod, capable of firing range of 7.2 kilometers.
"You there." Midas began, gesturing to the man at the mortar. "What's the situation up here?"
"Up here?" The sicario asked taken off guard. A man in a white hoodie and a molle harness. "Nothing really. We have an eye on the treelines and roads, but that's about it."
"That's about it?" Midas responded with a hint of incredulity.
"You'd have to ask the bosses here. They organize the defenses. I just drop shells onto attackers." A shrug from the man.
"Because you're too dumb to shoot a gun." Another said looking over the edge towards the south entrance. "I pick up shells and drop them down!"
"Oh fuck off already. Someone has to do it."
"Uh huh, keep telling yourself that."
"Enough." Midas said, "just keep an eye out. Those rebels are up to something, you saw the two who drove in here all shot up."
"How are they doing?" Good, they didn't suspect a thing.
"One's okay, the other is gonna be bedridden for a while. They got him good. They're getting better."
"That's a surprise." Another sicario laughed, "usually they're either skulking about in the woods like they always do. But when you catch them they get down on their knees and cry like little girls."
"You mean like that one you took out back that one time?" The mortar man responded.
"Yeah. That one."
"You're a sick one." The gin on his face suggested he felt otherwise.
"You said you shot her." A third spoke up.
"Yeah, I lied."
"Fucking hell."
It was clear the man wastalking about a rebel prisoner he did more with than just execute. With any luck he'd be among the fireball that erupted when this mortar blew up. Further luck his fellas joined them in death in the great conflagration of a mortar stash. A cluster of that many shells would cause an explosion that would take out that section of the roof no doubt. Back in the stairwell they heard the rapid thumping of helicopter rotors above them. Exiting, they found a white-plated Little Bird coming over, entering a pattern of a slow perimeter search. It came unarmed, but on it's side mounts were four men. Two with sniper rifles, and the other two with RPDs.
"Now the real question... we can get the south cleared fairly quickly, but what do we do to get there? No way no one up on that garage won't see that car go out of there. Especially with the helicopter out and about."
"We still have a few targets to sabotage. We have 5 bricks left. We should use 4 in the quarters and 1 for that generator... as for getting out... I'll think of something." Of course that was as good as saying 'we'll let God decide.' But there was no real answer for the predicament. At this point the lack of other elites was just a small comfort. Well this entire idea was a big shot in the dark anyway, may as well do it and hope that chopper left by the time they got everything done. Down the road they saw a few more men walking around, one of them speaking nonstop. He wore the same styled attire as the two lieutenants they came across. The flashy rich cowboy suit and hat. He had to be the main man in overall charge of this base. A look between the two men said all that was needed. Avoid him. All they needed was to get seen by him, dragged to some part of the base and risk their cover getting blown.
Thankfully by the time he saw them they were already entering the barracks. Two three story structures. Entering they already saw beds lining the walls, all occupied by sleeping sicarios. Thankfully, none woke. Nomad went as close to the center as possible and placed a brick as Midas went up to the second floor. Nomad was able to see the group passing out the window. A moment later his teammate came down and they made to exit the door on the other side and repeat the procedure on the next structure. "Midas, Holt, it's Nomad. Go ahead and start thinning out the guards down there. We're about to hit a few more spots." After receiving the acknowledgement, Nomad turned to Midas. You go ahead and place the other two bricks. I'll head for the generator. Once you're done, head for the car and open the garage. Once that's done, I'll hit the generator. Turn that off and we can use that time to drive the car out."
"That's gonna rely on a lot of chance, Nomad."
"This whole plan has relied on chance. We're in the thick of it now, we have to do this." Nomad left right after that, leaving Midas to do his deed. Moving across, he let the sound of humming guide him. It wasn't a hard task, and he found the generator just fine. It wasn't anything fancy, but it did it's job. Nomad placed a brick on the side on the bottom up against the building. That way if anyone came along before they left, they wouldn't see the explosive and have a heart attack, giving away the entire surprise. He waited, standing by the generator until Midas came down. "Weaver, Holt, how we looking?"
"Good. Just took down the guards. No alerts. The south is ready when you are, Holt is ready to open the gates.."
"Good. Keep me posted." Nomad turned to see Midas exiting the structure, then quickly make way for the garage. "Actually, we're ready now. Hit that button and let me know when both are completley open." Once that was said, the sound of an opening door was heard a ways off. Then the sound of a sports car starting up.
"Good to go, Nomad." Holt responded. Nomad then hit the lever on the generator, and suddenly the brightly lit base was plunged into darkness, and with it came the confusion and alarm. Nomad ran from his spot and to the garage, but not too quickly lest he run facefirst into a wall. A turn into the garage and through the space, he found the sports car and hopped in the passenger seat.
"Left the keys in it." Midas said, a grin could be felt underneat his face cover. "Midas here, we got the car."
"Excellent. Get it out and drive back down to the west, we'll have people grab it and take it for analysis." Bowman responded.
"This car is swanky." Nomad said, looking about at the interior as Midas hit the gas and drove out. Curious, Nomad opened the glovebox, that curiosity however became revulsion almost instantly. "GAH, what the FUCK?!"
"What?" Midas asked, taken aback.
"There's a fucking bloody condom in the glovebox! Make that two bloody condoms! UGH." Nomad responded. The description alone is enough to make both men feel like they were about to wretch, and feel a bit weak in the knees.
"Guess that confirms it's Yuri and Polito's ride." Midas answered with a dulled voice.
"Disgusting... still a sweet car." Nomad groaned.
"I never could understand the narco bling." Weaver spoke up. "You get an expensive whip, put chrome rims on it, and you just drive it around the same dusty towns you were driving around before."
"You totally want one of these cars, don't you?" Holt joked.
"Fancy car, fancy suit, still the same street. So what's the point?" Weaver asked.
"Air conditioning." Nomad answered. The car came driving out and towards the west. A short ways down the road, they found two men in plain clothes accompanied by a few rebels with Woods. Small world. They also had the helmets, vests and CROSS-COM, and weapons for the Ghosts. Exiting, Nomad warned them about the glovebox as they took up the seats and continued down the road.
"Nomad, this is Wolf. We got the info from the officer. You guys are free to go whenever you're ready." More good news.
"Understood. Making our move."
"Well that went well." Woods said amused. "We ready to go?"
"First we need a wardrobe check." Nomad began as he grabbed his things and made for a small shrubbery, "then we're ready." As soon as that was said, the lights of the base turned on. No more time, Nomad pressed the trigger for the C4, and a chorus of explosions.
Time to get to work.
...
It was called F.O.B Armadillo. And it was a proper military base.
The base was alongside a river with a sizeable dock space. Several RHIBs armed with LMGs and patrol boats. For defenses, it began with a simple fence topped off with barbed wire and a few mines outside. Beyond there were more mines in scattered patterns leading to a wall of stacked Hesco barriers. Along these walls were Hesco-made pillboxes with small windows for shooters not unlike arrow loops found on castle fortifications. Beyond these walls were watch towers occupied by lookouts and snipers armed with MSRs and G28s. Inside the base were two hangers, both housing Little Birds. Next to that was a wide open eating area with a barebones roof covering, a few men sitting around eating food and talking with cooks and cleaners. The rest of them manning posts or patroling outside the base. These men were armed with black body armor, riot and enhanced combat helmets, PVS-15s and AR rifles. The CROSS-COM identified these as R5 RGP rifles, a Remington product. Looks like they got a law enforcement buyer after all. Several other buildings were there. The command post, a three level structure. A communication post, two armories, six buildings housing personnel, and structures that stockpiled other supplies over by the docks. As expected the only real entrance, as they found from the pictures back at the CIA base was indeed the one road leading into and out of the base. Sitting there were several pickup trucks with basic armor plating and two Terradyne Gurkha armored vehicles, all with FN MAG mounts. Further in the base were Troller T4 four-wheel drive vehicles and two Mercedes-Benz Zetros 2733 troop trucks.
"Wolf, this is Nomad, we're in the cartel base and looking for the car now. What's your status?" Chimed their comms.
"Outside the Unidad base. Making our move right now." Wolf responded.
"Understood." Came Nomad's reply.
"Looks like the only chance we got going into this place undetected is at the docks." Red noted.
"Yep. Better we not all go in at once. Only need one person to interrogate the son of a bitch. But we also need to make sure our pals down at that base are ready, because when we hit the commander, they hit the base down there." Wolf said.
"These Unidad guys got some pretty good gear. I'd wager some of the drug money used to bribe Bolivian officials didn't go entirely into someone's bank account." Gaucho remarked. "Think it's clear the government only made a deal with the Cartel out of necessity. Wouldn't be surprised if they have their own plans in the works." The observation was true. Bolivia, like most South American countries, were not gifted with the necessary ingredients for a modern force. While an AKM made in the 80s is as capable of killing a man as an Rx4 Storm rifle, there's a reason nations eventually developed and made new or updated models sooner or later. Even nations in Central America folllowed this idea. Mexico was such a force. Using AMX-13 apcs, which they labeled as DNC-1s, old G3 rifles, and Panhards. Even modified M8 Grayhounds from World War 2! This was used along with more modern FX-05s, Mi-28 Havocs, and the Abrams tanks given by the United States as part of NAJSA. Even so their current arsenal was perfect for their needs, focused more on domestic issues and killing remaining cartels rather than projecting itself overseas. Much of the equipment in South America followed a similar vein with militaries focused on fighting neighbors and even their own people. Often cold war legacies from the battle for influence and control waged by the US and Soviets made and forever infamous from the likes of the Contras, Che Gueverra and of course the Bay of Pigs fiasco. Bolivia was limited in quantity and quality when compared to the wider world, buying and recieving equipment from major parties like the US, Russia and China over the years. While nothing to be complacent about, it was nothing compared to the gear the Ghosts were seeing these Unidad soldiers wearing.
The drug money would explain how Bolivia managed to buy so much modern equipment in the first place. Does no good if it just sits in your bank account. "A few drones here and there too. Mostly surveillance, the off-the-shelf type. I'd wager they can see in the dark just fine, AND if we aren't careful we may get spotted by an airborne UAV."
"So how are we doing this?" Red asked.
"Any of you guys have explosives?"
"I got plenty." Gaucho said.
"They got those armored vehicles and troop trucks... we hit those and their response to the base, if there is one, will be diminished." Regardless if Unidad had a shaky agreement with Santa Blanca, there was no way they wouldn't respond to something as big as an attack on the main Cartel base, especially if there was some kind of tie to them with Yuri and Polito.
"Yeah, but what about the men themselves, Wolf?" Tech asked.
"What about them?" Wolf responded.
"We're not gonna just blast em are we?"
"Tech makes a good point, jefe. They're not quite cartel, nevermind it may bring some heat onto us." Gaucho commented.
"The commander of these guys is in with Yuri and Polito. As far as I'm concerned they're as guilty, besides, they sure as hell won't show us the same courtesy in return." Wolf responded.
"Wolf's right. This is the dirty part of our jobs. If we can avoid it we will but sooner or later were gonna end up having to put some of these boys in black down. There's ample reason to assume some of them are on the Cartel's payroll, if not the military itself. We all know that." Red added.
"So while I go in there and work my magic, you three will stay out here and monitor the perimeter. Red, you head for the river, watch for anything coming down stream. Tech, keep the UAV up and on me, let me know if I'm about to be jumped. Gaucho, mind the road. We don't need any surprise guests."
The coast was clear, and Wolf made his move. There was plenty of tall grass there concealing the mines, so he had to be both quick and careful. The Unidad patrols moved at a deliberate pace without a stop in their route. Never mind the fact they had night vision too. There was no reason to assume the snipers and sentries at the pillboxes had none. Slow and low. Once he reached the river, he took his tentative steps in to make sure there were no predators in the river. Despite being far from the Amazon, the chances were there to run into something unpleasant. Caiman were the obvious threat, essentially small alligators but no less dangerous. Piranhas were plentiful but not a threat. They only attacked if in a high-stress state such as low water levels, and rarely if ever will they actually kill humans. It is often corpses they will go for. River otters are another possibility, these creatures are often seen scaring even jaguars away with their sharp teeth and teamwork. Thankfully, Wolf had nothing to worry about at the moment. Nor did he have to swim all the way out. He just had to stay beneath the surface. The fence went a good ways into the water, clearly an attempt to remedy that potential weakness. But again, it was easy to overcome.
The hard part would be getting in there. The CROSS-COM would give him an edge thanks to the drone overhead. The only real comfort being most attention would be outside the perimeter beyond the fence. But all it would take to ruin it would be one man seeing him. Via CROSS-COM, Wolf saw the bird's eye view of the FOB, the docks were clear. Just two men keeping their wits about them. They would be easy to avoid. Tech's concerns weren't entirely wrong. There was the very real possibility the majority of Unidad members were in it for the job and actually trying to do some good or at the least just put food on the table. That this one commander was just a bad apple. And right there is the rub. All it takes is one bad apple to ruin everything. All it takes is one bad cop to ruin the public's faith in the rest of them. All it takes is one mistaken identity to turn civilians against soldiers trying to help. And those situations had all sorts of intricasies once the slippery slope began, something Wolf had seen firsthand in Afghanistan, Iraq, and other hotspots in the world, and it pissed him off to no end. More than once he had to listen to civilians moan about one of their own getting shot despite the fact they were being used by the enemy even when the circumstances were clear as day.
Not only did the one bad apple ruin the perception of a group in a civilian's eyes, but those of their fellows. Destroying the unspoken mutual respect shared between soldiers of all nations and creeds. Just like how the CIA did irreparable damage time and time again with their fucked up bullshit on American citizens during the Cold War and continued to do so which resulted in men like him being called to fix it. He'd see this cocksucker in that base got what was coming to him. Maybe leave him with a broken leg? A mashed hand?
Wolf exited the water and up onto the docks when the two men turned to head for the other side, briskly moving to one of the storage depots to make his next move. A toss of one of those new sensor grenades just to be safe. Nothing. Good. The drone cam showed a clear path to the trucks. A few men were there, one leaning against one of the trucks.
"Hang on, sir. I got this." Tech said over the radio. The drone came down just close enough to the guards and emitted a static buzz sound, drawing their attention. Perfect! Wolf took the opportunity, looking to the nearby towers to make sure no one was looking his way, then ran forward before slowing down and reaching the trucks. As the guards investigated, Wolf stuck C4 behind one of the wheels of a truck. Out of sight, and ready for the next set of vehicles to get rid of. He crossed quickly, hoping to avoid the gaze of a sniper in the tower not too far from him. A brick placed there between the two Gurhkas and one more at the Zetros. That would get rid of their armor and carriers respectively.
"Tech. How's that drone? That sniper is looking away but I need to be sure."
"No worries. He's not even remotely glancing towards you." Tech replied. Satisfied, Wolf bolted ahead, seeing men otherwise busy with food and talk as he ducked behind one of the small hangers. He saw the Little Birds inside, and figured there was no need to worry about them when he got the info he needed they'd be busy looking over their perimeter way before investigating what happened at the Santa Blanca base... if all went well that is. Besides, he had no more C4, having used it to sabotage the vehicle pool. There was little in the way of security ahead now. Must be a day off. Wolf didn't mind, it just meant he had a better window to get at this guy. Entering he found it was a simple office with three rooms, one with a staircase going up. From there was the second floor with yet another stair case going around to the final third floor, and an easy view for someone like a sniper to see him, especially since a tower was right there next to it. Further up inside he found the little shit sitting at a table working on a laptop. "How we lookin outside, boys?"
"Road's clear." Gaucho said.
"River's too." Red responded.
"Everyone's still in place." Tech began. "That sniper outside your path just turned around.
"Good. I'm heading inside." Wolf made his move, slowly going up and with the CROSS-COM got a look at the the officer via the drone. He was busy updating reports from the day it seemed, the ever essential yet widely overlooked facet of military life. Back towards the door. All the better he was busy with said work, he never noticed the M81-clad man slowly entering, closing the door, reaching for his neck from behind. The next thing he knew he was yanked from his seat and down onto the ground. Whatever he was about to say got cut off by the feeling of steel entering his mouth... and the realization said steel was the barrel of a gun. A revolver to be specific. "How's it going, jackass? Oh, and by the way, no one know's I'm here. So I suggest telling me what I wanna know." He removed the revolver from the man's mouth
"Mierda." The man muttered, that face of pure fear now mixed with resignation. "You may as well kill me now. I'm not talking, carajo."
"That's your choice, but you know for a fact Yuri and Polito will hear about this. And when they do you're gonna get a visit, or at least that's how it's supposed to be with the little arrangement you got going on, sending rebels their way. Maybe if I had a chance and got rid of them, you'd sleep a little easier with all that cash you made collaborating with coke pushers." The commander winced hearing this, considering his options surely.
"Listen, I'm not a snitch. But yeah, yeah let's just say they freak me the fuck out. But the thing is they're not even in the area. They're not even in Chiquisaca."
"You got a phone, don't you?" Wolf asked. "So go ahead and call them, let them know you got Amaru back."
"What? Amaru? You serious? You think they're gonna believe that shit?!"
"For your sake you better hope. I'm at least willing to make it quick." With that having been said, the man began processing his choices. He could decline quietly, this Yanqui may not actually try to kill him, but it may be a matter of time before those two sick lovebirds end up working on him for one reason or another. He could decline loudly, take this Yanqui with him, but no, he didn't wanna die. Few men were willing to do that. He could do it, and risk these two coming after him... but if this Yanqui and his team could carry it out...
He took out his phone, still on the ground, and went through his contacts. "Hello? Oye, it's me. I have a lamb ready for you. Oh yes, a good one, we got ahold of Amaru. Yeah, we got the fucker. Okay, adios." He removed the phone and hung up, only for Wolf to take it from him. "Hey hey they're on their way, don't know when but they're coming back. Maybe a few hours? A day?"
"I believe you, I just need this phone real quick. Oh, and just to be safe." Wolf followed it up with a good kick to the face, sending the man into a good boot-induced nap. "Bowman, you there? I got a phone SIGNINT would like to get a look at. Was just used to call Yuri and Polito."
"Assuming it wasn't connected to a burner phone. Get it up and ready, we'll be on standby." Bowman replied.
Tech followed up with, "Heh, see? Technology ain't that bad Elmer."
"Laugh it up." Red responded. It didn't take long before a look through the phone that they locked in on the phone number that was just contacted. Sent to SIGNINT thanks to some fancy plug-in gadget whose function escaped him at the moment. A moment later, they had it. Bowman's voice came through with enthusiasm.
"Well, I'll be damned, we got it! It was an actual phone after all. Looks like they're over in Agua Verde, figures. It'll be a while before they get back there. Be plenty of time before then. We'll handle anyone trying to warn them on our end... let us work the technomagic, you guys help the rebels get that base." That was one load off his back. Now was just the matter of getting out of this base. Simple enough. He just had to retrace his steps for the most part.
Wolf saw the sniper about to turn, then ducked. Shit. The door was open and there was no way that sniper was gonna let it slide. Already he saw the CROSS-COM show the sniper confused.
"Capitán, ¿está ahí?" No answer. The sniper repeated his call, no answer. Wolf faintly heard him talk into a radio, no doubt some men would come up to investigate.
"Tech?"
"I got ya." The drone came near the sniper around the corner, and Tech activated the mircrophone. "Hola!"
The desired effect was made as the sniper turned, sidearm up and ready to find nothing. Wolf made his move and exited before skipping the next two corners via a short jump. "Good going, now just be careful. Got a few guys heading your way." Wolf saw them on the CROSS-COM, four red diamonds approaching. He had to... wait, what was he thinking? It was easier than he realized. He made for the edge of the building as the diamonds came in and jumped another short fall, then retraced his steps back out the base. To the hangars, back at the vehicles, carefully edging a few guards, then back into the drink. "Nomad, this is Wolf. We got the info from the officer. You guys are free to go whenever you're ready."
"Understood. Making our move."
Emerging back from the water, Wolf ordered his men to head back to the woods, that was easy. The alarm at the base went off just then, they found the unconsious captain. Then in the distance they heard explosions. Nomad was at work. So Wolf followed suit and hit his own trigger, and with that Unidad had fewer vehicles in their inventory, and they went from alerted to code red. A shame that their attackers were already long gone.
Now it was up to the CIA wizards.
...
A series of quick fireballs erupted within the cartel base.
Now the wheels began to turn. The watchers around the base began to send word back to the rebels about movement. Pac, up at the radio tower, turned it off, removing any chance of calling for help. In the distance, a fireball erupted into the sky as the helicopter base was subjected to a fuel tank exploding. With the radio tower now off, the whole place was open to an attack. And finally, off by Kochi, sounds of more gunfire were heard. The men who left to investigate the disturbance were getting hammered now.
"This is it, my fellow Bolivians!" Pac shouted on the radio. "We take their fortifications, destroy their emplacements, and take this base! My friends, we finally turn the war around and take back our country from these foreigners! FIGHT FOR BOLIVIA!" The shouts of 'fight for Bolivia' were echoed across the radio band by the rebels as the hour finally approached.
No more sneaking around. Time for blood and bravery.
