PROBLEMATIC

Chapter 19

oOoOo

I smiled, remembering how we did a double take, not recognising a clean-shaven Pacman, with neat shorter hair, as he rolled with us to the elevator. Since he couldn't stay here at this facility for an extended period of time, especially since it was essential that he had to stay low, I suggested a protection detail and the security that Rangeman Miami could offer. The General readily agreed with that being the safest and most logical option. Considering our present mission-in-progress, it was the ideal solution with Pacman's active involvement leading up to it. Keeping him safe, and hidden, was critical and an integral part of this mission.

Being at Rangeman, he would have access to Bones who was the resident medic. Silvio and Bones needed to be apprised of the circumstances. I had already cleared that with Pacman, including his occupational therapy and follow up physiotherapy as advised by the surgeons. Pacman would be secure while being able to maintain the ongoing medical support for his recovery. His sudden appearance after so many years may compromise Operation Trap Door, if he was recognised.

No one else was to know about Operation Trap Door at the Miami branch. This scenario, with an operative arriving at Rangeman, was not unique or unusual. We already had established protocols in place, should situations like this arrive. Hell, we've had personal experience ourselves, but even so, the opportunity for second incursions were quite rare.

But to come back stateside was quite out of the ordinary. With this clusterfuck mission, parameters changed, and returning our deep undercover operative, Pacman, became the priority especially with his critical injury. Usually in a clusterfuck situation, we would regroup wherever we were, and re-strategise. Retreat is not in our mindset. Our withdrawal was temporary. We were resilient and versatile. Survival, endurance and persistence were ingrained in our training. That's what made us so successful. Taking advantage of our KIA status was a bonus. We had a limited window in which to complete our mission, before the shipment reached our shores.

This morning, Silvio and Bones had arrived with a duffle bag so Pacman could change and clean up. He chuckled at our surprise. He cleaned up good. He was eager to get out of here and reacclimatise to the American way of life, limited as it would be. Meeting Bones and Silvio, before we departed, was essential. It was also reassuring for him that we handed him over to people whom we trusted and knew well. Until we identified from where the traitor was; the other parties involved; if he or they were connected with the military, or one of the members of the task force Operation Trap Door; being secreted away was crucial.

Seeing him in Rangeman black was good. Miami's Ella equivalent, coincidentally her sister Marisol, had made a special wide fit pair of pants to fit over the thigh brace with all that padding. Velcro is a remarkable thing.

But our focus was on the mission we had been assigned, now with a few modifications, but still with the same directive. Add to that the extra vital intel from Pacman, we felt stronger and more in control after all that FUBAR bullshit. Someone had used us as collateral damage to cover their own asses. With that helicopter ambush, our presence was not expected, certainly not to complete this mission. We were dead. We had a new incentive. By doing our part behind the scenes while being considered killed in action, we had to trust that the intel uncovered by Rangeman would reveal the criminals and traitors in this drug deal when the shipment arrived at its destination. It may seem like a drop in the ocean, but from what we already knew, it had the potential to open a new portal to the lucrative drug trafficking trade into our country.

In the meantime, before he left, the General had given Silvio a digital copy of all the documents of the punk kid, and especially Pacman's e-devices, so that Rangeman could work behind the scenes to fathom deeper into the workings of that RicoSnape shipment. If General Harley was seen to be exploring or investigating the intel trail, it might alert those involved in this drug shipment. Operation Trap Door was going ahead, all being well, to be intercepted stateside, while we were completing this mission. That was not part of our agenda. Hopefully Rangeman can be unobtrusive in detecting and uncovering more intel for them.

Sly made a crafty suggestion. If the General began proceedings for our military funerals, which would include some reviewing of the mission, it would disguise any suspicions that could arise. Yes. Just like a diversion, with some misdirection of his intentions. He was all in favour of that tactic, using the usual review protocols to cover his intent. With MIA and KIA of any operatives, there were very specific procedures already set in place.

"I know a couple of exceptional research investigators who would be ideal for pursuing this kind of data," Silvio said, winking at me. I just nodded, raising my eyebrow as I do. Me too. In my mind I wanted to tell her, "Go get 'em Tiger," like I did on those distraction jobs. This type of investigation, working in unison with Silvio and Rodriguez, was right up her alley. Hm, memories of the alley. Madre Dios. The sound of chuckling from Silvio and Bones brought me back to the present. Focus, Manoso. Did I roll my eyes? Yes, given the laughter and the knuckle bumps while they explained their reaction to Pacman, Sly, Moose and Angel. I just shrugged my shoulders. Meh. Shit happens.

After the General left, Bones and Silvio, who were now, essentially, Pacman's protection detail, drove to Miami Rangeman. Bones insisted he still use a wheelchair, for the time being. I could see they were going to get on. Bones liked a feisty patient. As if he heard my thoughts, he grinned up at me. Pacman really wanted to be part of this second sortie into the wilderness. Ah, wishful thinking, mate. But he was easily mollified with knowledge that we could master and accomplish so much more without him. He had already played a vital role with this mission preparation and his undercover role. A playful punch got him over his pout. Pouting? From a military operative? What next?

As the threesome entered the elevator to go down, they fist-bumped us for luck, with Pacman adding, "Go get those fuckers!"

In his undercover role, Pacman had finagled his way into Diego Garcia's confidence through the cooperative trade, while staying on the periphery. He had followed him from his earlier exploits, even working on one of those small farm holdings. Hence, the close connection with Camila. Using the government incentive program, he was able to establish and rebuild the cooperative in that communa, a little known village barrio, right on the coast. It was an insignificant small fishing village. Pacman had trained Emilio and Miguel as guards and in return, he protected the communa from unsolicited visitations by the men from Garcia's cartel, looking for young women, and trying to muscle in on the market place, hustling for free food and other things. The threats were very intimidating and Juan Pedro was instrumental in changing that pattern of behaviour.

Pacman, aka, Juan Pedro Gonzales, provided that extra level of protection for the people whom he had befriended. They accepted him and appreciated that the small farm holders were protected by his methods while maintaining a fair go with this new directive. Trading with the farm holders bringing their goods to the cooperative was how they survived, bartering and providing supplies and produce in return. They all knew Garcia was into drug trafficking, and being a small cooperative, smuggling from this location appeared to be a good cover. With his arrival near their village barrio, he had commandeered Juan Pedro's humble villa for his centre of operations. It kept them at a distance, while he and his men remained on site, away from their village.

El Jaguar, was more than a myth. Garcia's men were always drunk and their presence was most unwelcome. It was all about control and intimidation. However, Diego Garcia was young and cocky, being full of machismo, but he didn't set boundaries for his men. With stealth, El Jaguar dealt with those who came too close to endangering any of these people in this communa. Under the cover of darkness, the roar of a jaguar would send the drunken visitors away, terrified, especially when one of their men succumbed, screaming, to the alleged jaguar. Dead. Never to return. The villagers, of course, perpetuated the myth.

With this added information, Pacman had given us an exceptional insight into how Diego Garcia ran his operation. Loyalty from his men was maintained by often supplementing their pay with rum, and drugs, even just the popular coca leaves to chew on. He was under the misconception that the threat had been obliterated with that helicopter ambush. Garcia's complacency was going to play into our hands, since according to Pacman, there were presently no other threats, not even from rival gangs.

We had the property layout and satellite maps with our intel. From the satellite photos, we could zoom in and count the vehicles, check the roads in and out of the villa and the fishing village where the cooperative was located. We decided on a new drop location and sent the coordinates to Pedro, our pilot, prior to his arrival with Charlie, our preferred and trusted team.

My Alpha team was ready to go on the rooftop. Angel, with his remarkable internal radar, heard the distinctive whir of a helicopter approaching the helipad long before it was visible in the fading light. Charlie confirmed when he made the call, and we were off.

oOo

For our insertion, once again under the cover of darkness, we fast-roped from the helicopter to a new location further west. It was quite a distance from both the villa and the village, where they would not likely hear the helicopter. Pacman recommended this little known bay because it was a deserted fishing village which had been ravaged by fires last year. He suspects it was done by Garcia's men, putting fear into the local people. But they left no place for a base of operations. Hence Garcia's arrival at the present location.

After trekking through the dense jungle, we chose our strategic position, storing our packs and setting up reconnaissance for the rest of the night. From a nearby outlook, we had an excellent view of the villa. Angel sent up a drone to take infra-red footage, sourcing thermal images to locate our targets. Our plan was a short, sharp incursion, pending other unexpected circumstances. Complete the mission as first directed, and annihilate Diego Garcia's drug cartel. Take out all the guards, then Garcia. Destroy the evidence.

Pacman had overheard Garcia boasting, that with the success of this special shipment, his cartel would grow from his new reputation. Curtailing that plan was imperative, with the potential of enlisting more wannabe, albeit, inexperienced numbers to his splinter group cartel. That makes them bold and volatile. But Garcia was also a greedy man, and didn't like to share. That was his folly. In addition, he lacked the proper leadership skills to manage a larger group.

Apparently, he started off with over twenty men, but with fighting within the ranks, and some unexpected deaths, his numbers were down to a dirty dozen. Evidently, those who disobeyed his orders were dealt with swiftly. Ruthless and reckless people. Some of your own medicine is coming your way, Garcia.

Our scouting confirmed Garcia with only twelve men, which corresponded with Pacman's observations and intel. There was one more, upstairs inside the villa, presumably the hostage. Our reconnaissance was thorough. We checked from multiple vantage points. Garcia's guards, were loitering around, drinking rum or sleeping, even though the night was young. They obviously thought they were untouchable. No threats. Not a care in the world. Man, are they in for a surprise.

Silently, we went down to the villa, leaving our packs a bit closer and more accessible, before disabling all the vehicles, a temporary measure. We would be able to move them before we departed. Having selected our getaway vehicle, the one with the most fuel, a larger deluxe SUV, we took our positions to clean up the dirty dozen, with Angel confirming our directions through our comms.

Angel, our sniper, shoots Garcia, a clean head shot from his treetop position. It's silent and deadly, with nobody around the villa hearing it. That was our cue. Stealthily, like jaguars in the night, we pounced. No bullets were exchanged. No blood. Clean and swift. One by one we took out all his men while Angel watched our backs from his prime position.

We dragged or carried all the bodies outside, to the second building. There was, however, one more, upstairs inside the villa, presumably the hostage. With his night vision scope Angel monitored the hostage's movements. He reported no movement there, just watching movies on a large screen TV. Angel confirmed the hostage was a woman, as she was brushing her long hair. Perhaps Garcia had dealt with her himself. Angel confirmed the hostage was emanating heat on the sensors, her movements were slow.

Ah yes, the alleged hostage. Pacman recalled her name was Sofia, which we later confirmed with both passports. Allegedly, she and her son were being held hostage. Apparently, she was down in Colombia, visiting family, with her son. He suspects Diego and this woman have history, intimate history. Maybe from more than a couple of decades ago. Interesting, not. But, a curious connection maybe. I wasn't going to dwell on that.

Sofia is hysterical when Moose and I approach her, fully armed and dangerous, speaking Portuguese with our faces completely masked, and the rest covered in military camo face paint. Thankfully, she is fully clothed. We tied her to a chair, letting her think it was a robbery. We blindfold and gag her and proceed to remove all her jewellery, making sure she hears them falling into a bag. While she could hear us searching the rooms, Sly nudges her, letting her know he was right there, armed and dangerous. We barely speak after the first encounter, working swiftly with silent signals. Wearing so much gold with diamonds and other precious gems, mostly emeralds, was surprisingly heavy when they were all put together in the bag. Perhaps the profits of drug trafficking were more lucrative. Or, her lifestyle was a wealthy existence? Meh. Emeralds. After all, Colombia is rich in minerals like gold, and famous for the purity of its emeralds. It all comes back to greed.

We quickly searched the rooms and easily find her passports, in two different but similar identities, one American, and the other a Colombian passport. Her phone is nearby and we find a second phone in her bedside drawer. In a concealed cache we find a substantial stash of cash, neatly bundled, in both American dollars and Colombian pesos. Finding Garcia's passports and other documentation, including two phones, were also taken. He did not have an American passport. Moose checked both computers and downloaded the substantial data to a couple of thumb drives. All the phones and passports, and her personal jewellery, was all that we removed. Time to get out.

Problematic. Damnit. Because she is American, and, with the passport confirmation, the mother of that punk kid, we had little choice but to bring her home since she seems to be heavily involved in the drug trade. My suspicions lead to a number of possibilities with the connections. I trust that Rangeman will unearth all the background details to add to the charges of treason and perpetuating the dangerous drug trade with cocaine. All we can do is clean up down here since the shipment is en route to Miami. We don't want any leaks escaping from Colombia. Unfortunately, like her son, she is critical evidence, a reluctant witness however, possibly even one of the drivers of this drug trade. Anything is possible. Making judgments about the people and the fallout was not part of the job. But this was a necessary executive decision.

Our mission was to clean up and annihilate Diego Garcia's splinter cartel. The shipment was already tagged by Pacman and we had added our trackers as well.

With some difficulty, we carried the woman down to the vehicle and secured her in the back. It was necessary to cover her head with a bag and tie her feet. Moose and I agreed, that a sedative to knock her out would improve our chances of a neat, seamless, quiet escape. Angel remained on watch, scoping the area. In the meantime, Sly and Moose had hiked up to our secondary hideout to fetch all our gear, leaving no trace of our presence.

According to Pacman, there's a storage facility, an empty room, like a basement below the garage where they may have stored supplies. Beside the garage were fuel barrels. Checking the cupboards inside, along the wall, on one side of the garage, we discover a variety of chemicals and bomb-making paraphernalia. Security is careless.

Lifting up the floor trapdoor, with the unlocked padlock loosely attached, we find El Dorado! Madre Dios! Gold and gems, and a variety of stolen goods from burglaries by the looks of it; stacks of cocaine bricks, one with a broken seal which had obviously been sampled; rum, and more cash. On the back wall, wooden crates reveal weapons, mostly rifles and shot guns, and ammunition. Stockpiling gone crazy for a small splinter group such as Diego Garcia's.

We considered a special delivery to the good people at the barrio who helped Juan Pedro. Looting is never an option, but those people deserve some payback for all the torment and trauma caused by Garcia and his men. Gold and jewels were impractical. We grab the cash, just the Colombian pesos. With the cash, a new boat or new engines would be a more probable choice. Improvements on their accommodation or their food truck amenities were also good possibilities. Education fees for Javier and the other children. Whatever, it was their choice. Regardless, I take photos as further evidence. Profits of crime.

Juan Pedro's modest villa is set with charges. Angel has been our lookout, sniper rifle ready to take out any unexpected visitors. The substantial stockpile in the basement is set to blow and will make a colourful and very loud, spectacular display. "It will look like fireworks," chuckled Sly, our pyro expert.

With the all clear from above, we dragged the bodies down into the basement while Sly meticulously set the rest of the charges in and around the basement. Moose and Angel enabled the vehicles, parking them close to the second building. Everything was set to go in a series of explosions. With the volatile contents of the cupboards, the cocaine, the firearms, the ammunition and the fuel beside the garage, there would be nothing left of the bodies and the drugs stockpile. Total obliteration. Sly was in his element, working with meticulous care and efficiency. No one would be able to gain from this hoard.

Sly grins as he pens a note for Camila and Javier: "Thank you, from el Jaguar", in Spanish. We smiled and nodded, feeling like Robin Hood and his Merry Men. That instantly made me think of my Babe, and her Merry Men. Then he added: "Garcia is no more. Enjoy the fireworks."

We drove one of the luxury SUVs, with Sofia tied up in the back securely, and blissfully quiet. It was dark and late, but not in the middle of the night. We drove to the barrio and crept inside the cooperative, unseen, via a side door. Before the light came on we left, having placed the bag of cash on the counter with the note, for them to easily find.

The second bag, with more cash, we left at the house where Emilio and Miguel lived. Sly had penned a second note, the same as the one for Camila and Javi. But, with an extra message: "Boat repairs, fuel, food truck kitchens, or improved accommodation for you and the villagers. Use it well. El Jaguar."

When we made a deliberate knock, like the code we had used before, the light came on and we departed into the night heading to our extraction point.

In the meantime, we sent the coordinates for our extraction point, for Charlie and Pedro. Immediate confirmation.

No one would dare to challenge a luxury SUV while we were en route to our extraction rendezvous. Everyone knows the drug cartels drive fancy cars.

As we arrived at our rendezvous point, the helicopter was a welcome sight. Moose carried our passenger on board and strapped her securely to the back board, covering her ears with a headset, not connected to overhear any on board discussions, should she regain consciousness. We could have left her behind with a nice bullet hole but killing women is not what our mission was about. Besides, I think I had figured out her connection, which would be an extra bonus in trapping the traitors with this drug deal. We waited for Sly with the timer before lift-off. The fireworks would be a good cover for the helicopter. Sly hit the remote detonation buttons and we were off.

Yes, quite the spectacular display. Impressive. Sly nodded smugly. One flyover to confirm that the annihilation was complete. Once the smoked had settled, all that remained was a large, wide crater. Infra-red images confirmed our data. The people of the village below were dancing in the square, having watched the fireworks.

During the pyrotechnic display, Charlie had taken some photos. For confirmation of a mission completed, I did the same. It felt good to have that clusterfuck redeemed.

Home.

Miami here we come.

oOoOo

MIA: Missing in Action

KIA: Killed in Action