Notes - It's my week off, but I've already worked five consecutive days since Saturday and 36 hours...on my week off. Don't ever get into a leadership position or you will never rest. Ok, some actual facts about me in the chapter and I'm trying to recreate my 21 year old personality. Thank you for reading and thank you, Tara for coming along on this journey.

Ghost Recon – Wildlands

Alice - Ocoro Province, Bolivia, 19 January 2019

Painful groans came from the interrogation room at safe house Ocoro Alpha. The sound of a punch landing sounded in the hallway outside. Alice and Tara shook their heads and they traded concerned glances. Karen was getting meaner and out of control. "Should we say something?" Alice asked.

Tara shrugged, but her expression remained unchanged. "I…I dunno. This is bad though. I mean we fragged the shit out of Yuri and Polito, but they absolutely deserved it. This? I mean we work for Karen. I…I just don't know."

Alice nodded stiffly. "Okay…okay, let's go talk to her. We have to say our peace." They moved to the door just as it opened. Karen came out, a satisfied smile on her face and she pulled off a pair of leather gloves that were coated in blood on the knuckles. She stuffed the gloves in a pocket of her slick apron. She seemed to have a glow about herself and looked ten years younger.

"The others are on their way," Karen began. "Good job bagging El Emisario's assistant on that convoy. Your Missionary Team has really produced too. They signed up a good number of assets in a short time and got the intel on that convoy."

"They're great people," Tara said, "We really bonded during training."

Alice opened her mouth to say something when Weaver led the others up. "I hear you have something good, Karen," he said in his deep voice. He patted Alice and Tara on the back and nodded in a fatherly way. "I know what you guys saw in the lodge was not easy and I'm here if you need to talk."

Karen gestured at him. "You know that he was Magna Cum Laude at Princeton and has a Ph.D. in Psychotherapy."

Alice's eyes grew wide in surprise. "I…wow, that's impressive. How…how did you end up here?"

"I uhhh got tired of the job and wanted to serve my country. That was the winter of my discontent…"

"Made glorious summer by this son of York," Alice finished, and Weaver smiled broadly. "Richard III. I played Anne Neville in college."

Weaver made a face, lips pursed and eyes approving. "Color me impressed. A woman of culture. Better than these barbarians," he said in a professorial voice, pointing at Holt and Midas. "So how was it being the wife of a tyrant?"

"Deadly," she said and make a choking motion with her tongue out as if dying from poison.

Karen put her hands on her hips and frowned. "Do you guys want to know what I found out or not?" The CIA case officer was definitely changing. "El Emisario's assistant kindly told me that they have a way station for the narcotics on an island in the large bay. They run produce out of there several times a day by boat. A good amount goes to Agua Verde to…entertain VIPs and win them over to El Sueño. Some of it goes to Caimanes where it ends up in the States. We're going to trash this place and leave it a burning wreck. I want to see smoldering bodies, sinking boats and charred rubble."

Weaver nodded. "Okay Karen. Send me the coordinates and we'll develop an opplan. Looks like a maritime insertion, huh?"

Karen pointed at another room. "That's what the rebreathers are for, and I got us a Zodiac pontoon boat for insertion."

Holt chuckled. "You think of everything, mom."

Karen snickered sarcastically. "Heh…mom…yeah. Okay, let me know when you're ready to brief."

Weaver brought the team into the briefing room, still just a wooden table in a veritable shack. Mason and Angel brought in the rebreather kits and set them on the table. In the boxes were custom made wetsuits for each member. "The Zodiac is just down on the dock. Tara, bring up the map of the island and surrounding area."

Tara put her laptop on the table and punched in the coordinates for the island. The site had a prominent bay and several steep cliffs around the island coming up from the water. An attack chopper sat on a hill, overlooking a small dock on the south side, with stairs going to the dock and to the bay. Concerning was a sniper tower on the north that had good line of sight on most of the way station.

When everyone had taken a good look, Weaver narrowed the zoom on the image to get a closer view. "Our target is this boat here," he said, pointing at a two-deck wooden boat in the bay. "We also need to destroy the bay dock facilities. But the bay is a death trap. We need to take out this tower right away and then secure this small dock first. There will be one, maybe two snipers in the tower with what looks like Dragunov SVDs. Looks like two tangoes at the small dock too. The landing on the hill will have a good vantage point too. Okay, here's my plan… Myself and Angel infil on the north side and take out the tower. Once we've secured the tower, I'll provide cover and Angel is my spotter. She'll render medical aid as needed. When we call the tower secured, Midas, Holt, you lead the team to infil at the small dock on the south. Tara, you're jamming comms going in. Wonder, Mason, you're following Holt and Midas. Mason, plant your charges and blow the boat and dock. We exfil by the chopper on the pad and Pablo of the 26s brings the Zodiac home. Go time is Zero One Hundred so everyone, review the plan and get some rack time. I want to be ready at Double Oh Thirty. Any questions? No. Brief it back to me."

After the briefing, Midas began handing out ammo and Alice began loading magazines with 5.56mm, the rounds making a pop pop pop sound as she pushed them down past the feed lips onto the follower. Tara traded her M4A1 in for a SIG MPX submachinegun, chambered in 9x19mm Parabellum, something lighter and better in CQB. Alice placed the full mags into pockets on her carrier and covered them with Velcro straps. "Rounds down and to the right, ready to fight," she said, remembering her training. She shot competitively in high school and college and was one of the top three marksmen in her training at the Farm.

"You seem to know your stuff, Alice," Tara said. "I did well at the Farm, but that shot group that you put into Polito's chest was tight."

"Eh, I threw one high into his face…but maybe that was intentional." Alice had always been superior in nearly everything that she did, but that could also be a weakness. She had rarely known failure, and it destroyed her when it happened. She held out the wetsuit that Karen had made for her, a 3mm neoprene Tokugawa, made for free diving. "Tara, you held together well down there. I was…a wreck. It's weighing on me." Flashes of the horror in the lodge played in her mind. Screams, body parts, the overwhelming stench of rotting corpses. "If I end up somewhere like that, promise you'll kill me."

Tara shook her head emphatically. "Nonsense! There's no way I'm doing that. Whatever happens, we'll save you. I swear it." She sounded sincere.

Alice tilted her head, thinking. She prayed that she wouldn't end up like Ricky Sandoval or that poor man in Yuri and Polito's torture chamber. She couldn't get the image out of her head. Her brain was scattershot right now, but she looked at Tara and nodded. "Okay…okay…thank you. I'm ready." She pulled off her clothes and folded them into the laundry bin. At least Karen had someone to do that here. She coughed, slightly embarrassed as she pulled on a t-shirt and shorts. "Ummm, back home…growing up, we had staff to do my laundry. I've never cooked or done dishes or laundry…ever." Her face turned red with guilt.

"Oh wow. I had a feeling," said Tara. "You kind of struck me as…one of those."

"You don't think any less of me, do you? Honestly, I'm scared. I'm not sure I can handle it out here. I mean…I got through SERE survival training, and it sucked, but I knew that would end."

Tara shook her head. "No. I got your back, rich girl. C'mon, let's get some chow and some rest. We need to be fresh in the morning."

They worked their way into the makeshift dining room where Mason and Lisa were already eating and Midas, Holt and Weaver were just getting food. Tara pointed out some of the meal. "Sopa de mondongo, a pork and chili stew. Majadito, yellow rice. Picante de pollo, spicy chicken. This was real common when I was here on mission."

Alice dished on some chicken and rice, and they went to sit by Mason and Lisa. Karen came over and sat down with a plate. "Hey, I just wanted to let you know that the rest of the Missionary Team is in the field, scouting and recruiting sources. HUMINT is the lifeblood of the Agency. Back in the Bush Era we were told that we had to rely on electronics and that we couldn't recruit anyone with a criminal background or who had actual ties to terrorism. I suggested that we only recruit from church choirs which went over really well when I was a new case officer. Yeah, I'm kinda mouthy if you haven't noticed. Name me one Santa Blanca sicario who doesn't fall in the above category. You gotta talk to people and some of them will be dirty."

Lisa smiled. "Thanks for the update. I'm still responsible for them as the ranking member."

Karen held up her hand. "I understand. I won't ever put them in unnecessary danger. I lost someone close to me, and I won't do that to someone else. You have my word."

"I appreciate that," Lisa answered.

Alice took a bite of the chicken and rice, and it was pretty good. She made a satisfied face and Karen grinned. "I learned a trick or two out here in Bolivia," Karen said, pleased with herself. "I've gotten to be a pretty fine cook if I do say so myself."

Alice's face turned red again. "I've never cooked anything in my life. We…uhh…we have cooks at home."

Karen chuckled dryly. "Yeah, I read your bio. Your dad's a colonel. Your uncle's a senator and your other uncle was the DNI back in the day plus a cousin who's the Deputy AG. Private schools, tutors, flight lessons as a kid, horses, chauffeurs… Don't be embarrassed. It's just who you are. I know you'd rather be at the Four Seasons now, but you'll get used to us."

Alice looked away and took another bite. "Uh, thank you. Ummm, can you tell us who Ricky Sandoval was?" she asked, changing the subject.

A bittersweet look came over Karen and her eyes got misty. "Oh Ricky. You guys would have loved him. Larger than life. Always up to the task. Nothing was too much, and everything was possible for him…until it wasn't. Former Marine as he liked to say and then DEA. He was undercover in the cartel for the last few years. He fell in love and got married here. We got Monica out just before El Sueño nabbed him. He actually stayed too long to make sure she escaped. That was Ricky for you. I had a feeling he was starting to break. We spoke a lot before… I should have…," she started to say, and her voice cracked. She wiped her nose and forced a smile. "Eat up everyone. Don't let it go to waste. I don't cook every day."

Midnight came real quick again and an alarm blared out as groans and coughing sounded off from the floor. Within a minute there was a mad scramble for the sinks and toilets. Alice was getting a little more used to it as she danced around people, brushing her teeth. Holt ducked in under her and spat out some mouthwash. "You're still the prettiest one here, but I smell a whole lot better," he said with a wink as he lathered deodorant under his armpits. He already had his wetsuit on up to his waist, the arms tied around him. Tara had already stripped down and was pulling her wetsuit up over her legs.

"Oh God, here we go," Alice groaned and pulled her shorts and t-shirt off. She yanked the wetsuit on and zippered up the back. "Hey, do we get lodgings and per diem here?" she asked, trying to make a joke.

Holt put a Bolivian 5 Centavo coin on the sink. "Oh, you gotta be Air Force," he said lightheartedly. Nothing seemed to get him down. "Here, courtesy of the Army." He turned on the faucet and put the stopper in the drain. "And your pool, mademoiselle."

"Ha…ha."

Weaver poked his head in. "Rally at the entrance in five. A mask, dagger and rebreather is at the door for each of you. We shove off in fifteen. Move it, people." A flurry of activity followed as the team made its way to the door, grabbing the gear with their name on it. Alice took a waterproof bag and watched Midas and Holt put their pistols and NVGs within and she did the same. The rebreathers came with dive computers and masks were full faced with comm receivers. At least JSOC was sparing no expense. The room was full of the sound of charging handles being pulled and slides being racked along with the murmurs of quiet voices in the dark. With Pablo of the Katari 26s, they went single file to the Zodiac Boat or RIB and Weaver pointed to Tara. "You're driving," he said as he tossed her the keys. "Holt, Midas, up front and on guard." He then pointed to the ropes that ran down both sides of the boat. "Wonder, straddle the right pontoon and grab onto the lifeline. Mason and Angel on the left. I'll sit behind Wonder." He then checked everyone's rebreather to make sure they were operational and on tight. "Mount up! We'll turn the systems on just prior to water entry."

The team took their positions as Tara started the engine. She glanced over at Alice. "Glad I can fly you for once." She lowered the motor, putting the propeller in the water and the boat eased forward, waves splashing against the inflatable pontoons. "Coordinates in the system," Tara said and then accelerated the Zodiac into the bay.

It was a short trip, and a sprinkling of lights shone on the small island. Midas pointed at the tower. "Confirmed, two snipers in the tower. I got one on the landing for the small dock."

Weaver pointed further west. "Over there is P. N. Agua Verde. It's a super ritzy resort."

"Just my speed," Alice quipped. "I volunteer for that one."

Weaver chuckled. "Something tells me you're going to regret that. Okay. Midas, Holt, Wonder, Tara and Mason, systems on. You're off here. Ingress to the landing and neutralize the tangos. Once Angel and I take the tower, seize the hill with the chopper and we'll put them in a crossfire. Once the island is secure, Mason and Tara, blow the drug boat and the docks. Angel and I will egress with the Zodiac. Wonder, you fly the rest out. Fall back to these coordinates if it goes south and we'll pick you up in the boat. Let's make it happen."

The team put on flippers and Midas and Holt slid into the water, followed by Alice, Mason and Tara. The water in the bay was pleasantly warm, even at night, with just a hint of salt. The rebreathers were easy to use but the air was a little dry, much like SCUBA. They descended to about ten feet below the surface and Alice checked her dive computer which was linked to all of the others so she could track their course. The swim was only about five minutes, and they surfaced together, ripples of water spreading out around them. Holt raised the muzzle of his M4A1. PAFPAF…PAF. Two rounds struck the sicario's chest and another, his head. Midas unloaded two shells of 00 buck into the other. "Tangos down. Landing clear."

Midas pulled off his flippers and led the way to the stairs. "Hold here. Wait for Weaver."

As if on cue, the radio crackled. "Tower secure. I have a perch. Angel's picking targets."

Lisa came on the radio. "Lone tango overlooking the bay. Send it."

"Tango down. You're clear to the chopper."

With the world in NVG green, Midas led the team up the wooden stairs in a hustle with Holt bringing up the rear to cover. The real Ghost Recon members did their best to look after the support members. The feeling of unity always cut across everything that they did. But, as Weaver said, this was just the beginning, and they had lost their leader, Nomad, right off the bat. On the hill, Midas pointed at Alice. "Do a quick check of the chopper. Make sure it's airworthy and get back to us quickly."

Alice ran to the helo as Midas had the team take cover overlooking the bay where a another stairway down was. Tara's drone took off to scout the boat and Mason began prepping charges. Lisa's voice called out again. "One tango coming up the stairs from the bay to the hill. Hold…hold…send it."

"Tango down. You're clear down the stairs to the bay. Call when ready to assault."

Alice quickly checked the Master, Avionics and fuel and all looked good and the miniguns were full of ammo. She ran back to the team and knelt down besides them. Midas looked the team over as Tara's drone returned. "When Weaver calls go, we need to move down these stairs quickly. Speed is the key. Once he fires the first shot, they'll know we're here. I'll take point. Mason and Wonder next. Tara and Holt after, covering as we descend. We have the cover of darkness so use it." Everyone nodded. "Once we take the boat, Mason, get the charges placed and timed. We then fall back to the helo where Weaver and Angel will join us and Alice flies us out. Go with God," he said and then kissed his silver cross.

"Tango on the top of the boat. Send it," Lisa called.

"They're going to see him fall. Fight's on people…tango down. Go go go!"

As the sicario tumbled off of the boat roof, his comrades began to look around, brandishing a smattering of small arms, their faces full of confusion and concern. Midas dashed down the stairs as Holt and Tara fired off rounds into the Santa Blanca men. They scrambled for cover, firing back randomly, but the volume of fire was intense. The ping of ricochets and the snap of near misses made Alice's eyes widen. In all of this, no one had yet shot at her. With her stomach in knots, she raised the muzzle of her M4A1 and put the red dot on a sicario's chest. PAFPAFPAF! The man spun about, a dark stain spreading on his chest in NVG green.

Another sicario was zeroing in on them when he was hit from behind from a shot from the tower. "Tango down. Press!"

Midas unloaded his magazine as he stormed the boat, waves of 00 buck smashing through the Santa Blanca. Anyone who survived could barely raise his head for fear of the shotgun blasts. Mason and Alice tossed grenades into a boat window. "Frag out!" Two sharp explosions rang out followed by screams and then weak moans.

Midas gestured them into the boat. "Go! Clear it, plant the charges and extract to the helo. We're covering." He and Holt took a knee, scanning around as Tara held the stairway back up.

Weaver called out. "Clear top. Proceed. Call clear and we'll come to you. The Zodiac is already on its way back."

Alice moved into the boat's cabin cautiously as sicarios crawled about weakly. She and Mason kicked their weapons away. "Don't move," she said in her high school Spanish. She noticed a series of propane cannisters. "Mason, plant the charges. I'll turn these on for a bigger bang."

"On it."

Alice turned the nozzles and the cannisters began hissing. Mason gave her the thumbs up. "Set. Let's go."

There was a moment when she thought to just leave the sicarios here to meet their fate, but she just couldn't do that. Would she ever get to the point where human life meant nothing to her? "Get out of here!" she ordered the sicarios and she helped one to his feet. They crawled and limped off of the boat and she pointed to a shelter at the edge of the bay. "You have three minutes. Get over there and do not move until we are gone. Entiendes? Do you understand? Now go!"

The team bolted back up the stairs to the helo as Weaver and Angel joined them. She leapt into the cockpit and began to power up systems as Tara read off the checklist. Then, a deep CRUMP sounded from the bay and a plume of smoke billowed up into a small mushroom cloud into the night sky. She smiled as the rotors began to turn, and she added power to lift off. "Everyone strapped in?"

"All secured," Weaver called. "We're Charlie Mike. Go!" he said, indicating a completed mission.

She banked the helo over the bay and the boat was entirely engulfed in flames and the facilities at the dock were shattered. She looked down to see the shelter intact and knew that the survivors were unharmed. Was it the right call? Only time would tell.

Just then an attack chopper in the distance turned and flew at them, it's silhouette in white against a green background. One of the survivors must have radioed. "Boogie, two o'clock, two miles, closing," she called, flipping the master weapons arm switch, bringing her miniguns to life. "Hold tight! Evasive." This was what she was trained for. It might not be an F-35A, but she had been through Fighter Lead In Training in T-38s at Sheppard AFB and knew how to dogfight. The attack chopper sported Santa Blanca markings, clearly hostile. Damn, these assholes practically had their own air force. "Declared bandit!" she called and pulled up sharply to groans from the rear as G's washed over the team. Tracers arced from the bandit's miniguns, passing right beneath them. "Tara, tell me when he's right at my Three!" The G forces from the climb pushed them into their seats and arms and heads felt like they were a hundred pounds as blood flowed from their brains.

"At your Three!" called Tara in a strained voice. Her face looked like she was staring into an industrial fan on full power.

Alice closed the throttle and kicked hard on the right rudder pedal, spinning the helo in place as the bandit flew by, misjudging her position and airspeed. She thought she heard someone puking in the back. The world spun like a top as the nose of the helo cranked around and the bandit filled the forward windscreen. The Santa Blanca chopper tried to turn right, but the pilot was not nearly in the same class as a USAF trained aviator. Alice pressed the trigger on the stick. BRRRRRRRPPP! Tracers laced into the enemy helo, and smoke and flame shot from the engine as one sicario tumbled out of the side door into the water. BRRRRRRPPPP! She shot another burst into the enemy and one rotor blade flew off as the bandit plummeted into the bay. "Guns kill," she said calmly. She looked back to see Mason wiping his mouth, his face actually green. Holt didn't look so hot himself, his face sweaty and clammy looking. "All secured back there?"

There was a moment of silence before Weaver spoke. "All secured. Take us to the safe house."

Tara patted her on the shoulder. "Shit girl, that was…that was serious. Seriously awesome."

They touched down at the safe house and Karen came out to meet them. With two technicals and now two attack helos, the Katari 26s were growing in power. "I heard it on the radio," Karen said over the rotors that were spinning down. "That was…was intense. Let's debrief and I have some good news too. Pac Katari has detailed some of his Katari 26s to us, scouts, a mortar team and some firepower. Your other boat driver, Pablo Sanchez, is their lieutenant. He'll be your liaison with Pac. Okay, come on. I was crazy enough to cook again. There's some silpancho for breakfast, beef and eggs along with some salteña for dessert."

Tara put on her headset as they walked to the command post. She tapped into the NSA sat network. "Hey, I'm picking up Santa Blanca comms. They know about the drug boat now… and some really bad descriptions of us. Hah. Okay…hold on. They're letting El Sueño know. Shit, El Emisario is going to be in deep caca. Oh yeah…oh yeah. He's calling El Emisario." They continued walking into the CP where some of the Missionary Team had monitors set up. They high five'd with Tara, Mason and Angel as they walked by. Tara grinned. "Okay, El Emisario is being ordered back to Oroco to 'fix it' and El Sueño is not happy. I think we got him."

"Can you get a fix on Sueño," asked Karen urgently.

Tara shook her head. "Nope, we've broken their encryption so we can get content, but Sueño's smart and has a scrambler hide his location."

Karen led the way into a larger room and gestured to a big monitor. "Look at this. We're in the big leagues now. This just came in from Langley." She pushed the team towards a table of food that smelled divine, braised beef and fried eggs on platters besides coolers of drinks. "Eat up, eat up," she said forcefully as she turned on the monitor. "Good work, Tara. I think we can find El Emisario here," she said, pointing to a massive, gaudy mansion on the sat feed. El Emisario, aka Gonzalo Yana is from an old cocalero family of the Aymara culture. His grandfather, El Yayo, controls Eight Percent of the coca leaf production. We just trashed their means of distribution by boat to Caimanes and Agua Verde. Tara, stay on comms. When we have confirmation that Yana is back home, I want him captured for interrogation. He hates the violence that comes with Santa Blanca, but he's too chicken shit to oppose it. Maybe he can be turned." Karen filled her plate and sat with the team. She gestured at Alice with her fork. "You probably don't know, but I was Air Force prior. Intel. I got out as a staff sergeant and I used to hate officers, but I'll make an exception for you," she said with a wink.

"I appreciate that."

"I got out in Oh Three and the Agency picked me up. I was in Moscow Station when the Russians invaded Georgia. I heard that Nomad led the team in disrupting the invasion force…not that any of those jokers will admit to it," she said, pointing to Weaver. "Then, they sent me to this paradise back in Fifteen and here I am." She sighed and then smiled. "Good work today, but we have a long way to go."