Search and Destroy by JT Sawyer (top non fiction books of all time .TXT) 📗

During the ten-hour drive, Cal filled her in on the tumultuous events of the past few weeks and all the players involved.

“Infiltrating this ranch in Texas is going to be on par with ops we’ve done in small villages in the Middle East,” she said. “And what makes you think the Feds won’t already be there or have warned Roth since you took out that guy Landis?”

“I think they’re going to have a lot on their platters as it is between what happened at Burke’s, the cartel safehouse, Rourke’s and Landis’ place. Besides, the intel and maps I got from Rourke indicated that both Roth and Landis have multiple properties around the country.”

“If only we had a plane we could hop on,” she said.

“Driving is better—it’ll give the mercs who are no doubt gathered at the ranch time to stew and get bored. By the time we get there in three or four days, their guard will be down a little.”

“How can you be sure that Roth will even be there when we arrive and not at one of his other properties?”

Cal rested his hand on the small drone from Vogel. “Don’t worry…we’ll do a recon after we arrive to make sure of the numbers and his presence.”

His mind drifted over the names on his list of suspects. “Say, you ever heard of a guy named Gardner? He’s a case officer down in Venezuela. He was in on that briefing Burke did with Begley, Rourke and Patterson at the Pentagon.”

She gave a hearty nod. “Yeah, Milo Gardner. He’s worked the South American scene for years. Good dude. We came up together from the Farm.”

“Know him well?”

“Enough…he’s someone I’d trust at my six. We actually spoke on the phone about a month ago. He called to check on how my leg was doing, but he was mostly fishing around to see if I’d be interested in working down south for him.”

“And you turned down a job in the tropics?”

“Ticks, parasites and centipedes the size of my arm…no, thanks.”

He chuckled. “Think you can reach out to him? Find out what he knows about a guy named Ernesto Rimaldi who’s running for the presidency in Venezuela?”

“Sure, I’ll call him later when we get to the cottage.”

When Cal awoke in the morning, he stood on the enclosed front porch for a full half-hour, staring at the mirror-like surface of the lake beyond the front of the cottage.

Given all the bloodshed, chaos and adrenaline of the past few weeks, he welcomed the peaceful vista.

He heard the screen door behind him open. Viper walked out, her short black hair sticking up and the pillow wrinkles still etched on her tan face. She handed him a steaming cup of coffee then sat down at the antique wooden table to partake of her tea.

“Helluva view. Nothing like a real, living lake with all the frogs and turtles,” he said. “Reminds me of a lake north of Billings where I used to guide elk-hunting trips with my uncle.”

“Yeah, I like coming here. It’s where I unwind in between missions.”

“With your family?”

“They’d join me sometimes, but I never minded the solitude, especially after being immersed in a testosterone cocoon with you guys on the team for months at a time.”

He thrust his chin at the family photo on the wall set amid a stunning backdrop of a weathered Christian church amidst a backdrop of older buildings dotting the Syrian countryside. “Must be hard for your parents to watch the news and see what’s become of Damascus these days.”

“My mom misses it, but I’ve told her that it’s not the same place she grew up in.”

“You were what, twelve years old when you and your family had to flee the country?”

She gave a plaintive nod. “We spent two years as refugees, bouncing between countries with only the rags on our backs until my father was able to find a way to get us out and over here.”

“Is that why you live like a nomad when you’re back here?”

She closed her eyes, craning her head up and taking a deep breath. “There will never be a home like the one I knew growing up. It was small, with white stucco walls, but so beautiful, and with a garden just beyond my bedroom window whose jasmine flowers I can still smell to this day.” She slowly rotated her porcelain mug, staring down into the empty interior. “That was in the days before the government security forces began rounding up dissenters and the country became a graveyard.”

“No one, especially a kid, should have to suffer through such horrors. I’ve heard you talk about your childhood before and always wished I could go back in time and yank you away from all of that.”

She creaked out a faint smile. “You’re a good man, Cal Shepard…despite what Foley says about you.”

He chuckled. “I’d sure like to meet your folks someday…they have to be remarkable people, raising someone as challenging as you.”

“Shut up, you Montana hillbilly. No wonder you think eating with a fork is a luxury.”

He tapped her leg with his boot, smiling. “Hey, thanks for coming to get me.”

“Anytime.”

He sipped his black coffee then took in one more gaze of the still lake in the distance.

“So, Texas…what’ve you got in mind for breaching that ranch?”

He unfurled the folded paper in his back pocket of the map of Roth’s ranch that Rourke had printed off, handing it to her.

“If you can scare up a notebook and a few markers, we’ll draw up an assault plan, old-school…that is, if you’re still in for the long haul.”

She flared an eyebrow, standing up and shoving her empty mug into his gut. “I’ll need more tea then. Pot’s still on the stove if you could fire me up another batch while I get what you asked for.”

There was never any hesitation or pontification with Viper. You always got your answer whether you liked it or not, and you knew what to expect from her. It