Divide & Conquer Page 13

  ***

  “Governor Brown, how long do you think the border will be closed for?”

  Governor Brown turned to the latest questioner. It was almost 1 a.m. and he was seriously questioning the point in continuing any longer with the press conference. The number of viewers would be in the hundreds. He tapped the side of his lectern three times with his index finger. This would be his last question, the signal having been given to his press officer to cut in after this answer.

  “Well, Scott,” he said, smiling at the Houston Chronicles reporter. He was blessed with an ability to remember the face and name of pretty much everyone he ever met. A truly exceptional gift for any politician. “It will be closed as long as it has to be!”

  The press officer jumped in before any further questions were asked.

  “That’s it for now folks, we will notify you of any updates.”

  Governor Brown smiled, waved and walked towards the double doors that swung open as he approached them in true presidential style.

  A final look back and wave was almost complete when the first scream shattered the questions that were still being hurled at the departing Governor. Silence fell instantly as everybody looked for the source of the scream. As each person found the source, gasps and screams added to the already confused scene. The Governor was left standing in a doorway with absolutely no idea what had happened or where to go. He looked at his press officer who had also joined the group of gaspers and screamers, staring at a monitor.

  Everything told him to keep walking. He had made his exit. He could go to his office and find out what was happening soon enough. Visions of footage of him making his grand exit only to turn and see what had happened in the room ran through his mind. The headline 'should he stay or should he go?’ screamed at him. Then of course there was indecision, standing in the doorway, neither leaving nor going was just as bad, if not worse and of course, the same headline would be just as effective.

  Fortunately for the Governor, these thoughts had rattled through his mind almost instantly and to the outside world, hardly a heartbeat has passed before the Governor turned and rushed back into the room. A path cleared its way to the monitor to allow the Governor a view of the unfolding events.

  ***

  As Colonel Masters walked back towards his four armored personnel carriers, the rat-a-tat-tat began again in earnest. Only this time, the sound of gunfire was far closer. As he turned to pinpoint the source, a bullet pinged the ground twenty feet from him and he understood exactly how close the gunfire was.

  “Sir, to your left in the bushes!” screamed one of his guardsmen from on top of the nearest Bradley. He was preparing to return fire with the Bradley’s M2 Machine Gun.

  Masters followed the guardsman’s arm and noted the flashes over a third of a mile away, ell out of range and obviously just somebody having some fun at the expense of the Army.

  “Stand down men! Even if the bullets hit from that range, they’d be like a bee sting,” he waved his arm down as he turned and walked back nonchalantly towards the Bradleys as another bullet pinged just a few feet to his left.

  ***

  As the Pro 8 News crew disembarked from their news van, the gunfire erupted. Abandoning all set up, the reporter grabbed the cameraman and ran towards the bridge, just in time to see Colonel Masters waving at his men to remain calm and not return fire. The bullet pinging to the left of the Colonel and him looking at it without flinching was footage you could only dream of. A true American hero, standing tall even under fire.

  The camera zoomed in on the action, first managing to catch the flashes from across the river of the gunmen, before tracking back to the courageous Colonel standing proudly on top of the Bradley personnel Carrier, defending America’s border.

  As he issued orders to his men, the Colonel caught sight of the camera and winked. The frame of the smile and wink of Colonel Nathan Masters would go down in history as one of the all time classic shots. Very few shots ever caught the emotion of a person an instant before their life ended.

  ***

  By the time the Governor reached the monitor, the Colonel’s lifeless body had already slumped to the ground. The eye that had winked to the camera only a second earlier no longer existed, along with most of Colonel Master’s face. The 7.62 high velocity round having blown the better part of it clean off.

  The first guardsman reacted to the shooting and swirled his M2 into position and began to return fire. His bullets could be seen pummeling the area where the shots had been seen coming from just moments earlier. However, as the camera swung back to see why the guardsman had stopped, it was an even more gruesome sight that met them. The guardsman’s half headless corpse sat in position, his hands still on the gun but without a head to control it. As the camera swung from Bradley to Bradley, gunfire started and stopped as the what became apparent sniper moved from one guardsman to the next. In less than a minute, the Bradleys stood useless, their gunners dead and their leader lay lifeless on the ground beneath them.

  The drivers, leaderless and in fear for their lives did what any sane person would have done. They engaged the gears and retreated back towards the safety of the border station. Unfortunately, that also meant the body of Colonel Nathan Masters was left on its own, halfway across the bridge between America and Mexico, neither in Laredo nor Nuevo Laredo but for the whole world to see.

  ***

  El Jefe surveyed the scene through the telescopic sight and smiled. It would be a very long time before any American would be venturing over the border. At least any civilian American that was. He slid back and climbed down from the shack that had offered such an excellent position and climbed into the Lexus. The driver sped down towards the riverside and they honked the horn twice.

  After a few seconds the two gunmen appeared, one being supported by the other. A large bullet wound was clearly visible on the struggling gunman’s side. El Jefe jumped out of the Lexus and approached the two. The injured man smiling at El Jefe, humbled at the thought that El Jefe would help him.

  “I’ll help him, you get in the car!” El Jefe instructed the uninjured gunman. Taking the injured gunman’s weight from him.

  “I can manage El Jefe!” offered the other gunman, keen to show he was more than happy to assist.

  El Jefe simply drew the gunman a look as he withdrew his knife and sliced cleanly threw the injured gunman’s throat. He stepped aside and let the dead man’s body fall to the ground.

  “Nobody can ever know we were involved in shooting the American soldiers!” explained El Jefe to the confused gunman as they made their way back to the Lexus. “His bullet wound needed hospital treatment. That bullet was an American bullet, he would have been linked to us and we would be hunted for evermore by the Americans.”

  Before the gunman could ask the obvious question of what about the body and could they not trace him from that, El Jefe had tossed a grenade towards the body as they sped away. The incendiary grenade would ensure nothing but charred bones would be left of the corpse.

  Chapter 29

  “Que?”

  It was that single moment of delay that saved Katie’s life.

  Had he shouted in the gunmen’s native Spanish, Katie would have been killed without a second thought. Fortunately, to ensure Sean knew what he was doing, Luis had issued the order in English, giving the gunmen just enough doubt as to whether the order was meant for them.

  Sean rounded the doorway just as Luis was repeating the order in the gunmen’s native Spanish. “Máte la!!!”

  “No!!!” screamed Sean but his instructions meant nothing to the Los Zetas men.

  Despite his shout, they pointed their guns at Katie who, on understanding Luis’ first shout, was already halfway to the floor screaming and scrambling for cover.

  As one gunman spun towards Sean, the other pulled the trigger as he aimed at the cowering Katie. Sean ignored the gunman spinning towards him and fired the handheld cannon twice towards Katie’s would be killer. Despite h
aving used the Desert Eagle before, the kick, as he quickly remembered, wasn’t as much as he expected it to be. The first round hit center mass while the second, due to the anticipated recoil, hit the gunman in the head. Both should have been center mass. However the result was the same. The gunmen died before he managed to get a shot off.

  With Katie safe, Sean spun back towards the other gunman who unfortunately was already zeroing in on Sean’s center mass. Sean pushed through his feet with every ounce of strength he could muster as he sprung to the right, diving out of the gunman’s range.

  However hard he pushed, it was not going to be quicker than the bullet that barreled towards Sean at over 2000 ft/s. As he dived the bullet struck him high on the pelvis and spinning his airborne body like a rag doll into the wall. The sound of a 220-pound man hitting a wall at full force was magnified by the whump as every ounce of air was expelled from his lungs.

  Despite the noise, Katie’s scream pierced though it all as the sight of Sean being shot all but destroyed her world.

  With Sean out of the picture, the gunmen returned to his initial task, killing Katie. He swung his Ak47 back towards Katie who was scrabbling desperately across the floor to get to Sean.

  As he took aim and prepared to fire, he stopped. She had stopped scrabbling and was looking in wonder at something in front of her.

  The gunman tore his eyes from Katie, just long enough to see what she was seeing.

  It was the last thing he would ever see, the barrel of the Desert Eagle as a bullet was fired from it. Both bullets flew within a microsecond of one another and exactly on the same trajectory. The memory of the Desert Eagle’s kick had been retrieved and the actions required to ensure a tight control on target had been made, as only a man expert at firing weapons knew how to. Sean watched as the gunman’s head evaporated under the force of the two massive bullets.

  A clapping sound from behind cut through the silence and announced Luis’ entry into the room. ”Congratulations,” he offered.

  Katie, ignoring Luis, jumped up and ran to Sean, a large bloody stain soaked his side, a hole clearly visible in his shirt. He had definitely been hit.

  “Sit down,” she insisted, pushing him onto the nearest couch.

  Sean was still gasping for the breath that had left him as he had it the wall and winced as Katie pushed him down onto the couch.

  “It’s not bad,” he eventually managed as he caught his breath. “Just a flesh wound, really.”

  Sean guided her hands away from the wound.

  Katie was having none of it and pushing his hands aside, pulled his shirt back before bursting into tears.

  Luis rushed forward fearing the worst at Katie’s reaction to Sean’s wound. He pushed her aside and stared in amazement at the shining metal plate that sat where pelvic bone would have normally sat, the bullet had merely removed a chunk of skin before deflecting off of the Titanium plate. It really was a flesh wound in the true sense of the term.

  Luis looked at the inconsolable Katie and back at Sean and shrugged in some confusion.

  Sean flicked the plate. “It took me six months to recover from the accident that caused this to be implanted and even longer to walk without any sign of a limp.”

  Luis was still struggling to comprehend Katie’s reaction and shrugged again, as if so what.

  “I’m definitely not her husband!” explained Sean.

  Chapter 30

  General Borodin could only gape in wonder as he was led through the Russian estate that would have put any State residence and most Western estates to shame. Its grandeur was exactly the reason the peasants had revolted almost a hundred years earlier. As much as he was revolted by its opulence, he loved it.

  “This way, General.” Surkov led the general towards his private study.

  The study was in keeping with the rest of the estate, grand, opulent but utterly captivating and Borodin immediately saw himself working happily behind the old oak desk that sat opposite a massive roaring fireplace. Two huge Chesterfields sat beckoning in front of the fire and with a wave of the hand, it was as though Surkov had read Borodin’s mind and guided him towards the sofas.

  “General, please.” He waved towards the seat nearest the fire which the General readily accepted.

  After pouring tea for them both which was topped up with vodka and a nod of acceptance by Borodin, Surkov sat down.

  “So General, tell me what you know.”

  Borodin looked at Surkov. His contempt for the man was becoming harder to contain. He was there to find out what Surkov knew. Not tell Surkov what he knew. However, Borodin was a man who was used to knowing everything. The thought that he was unaware of the bigger picture frustrated him even more.

  He would play along with Surkov until he discovered what was going on.

  Borodin smiled, the smile he reserved especially for politicians and foreign dignitaries that he had the displeasure of meeting. Warm and open, he had spent many years perfecting it, ensuring that it reached into his eyes and hid the darkness that lurked behind.

  “I believed, until now, that Grebnevo…”

  “No, what do you know about why you are here?” interrupted Surkov, struggling to hide his irritation.

  Borodin squeezed the arm of the sofa. His temper was legendary as was his inability to control it. He smiled again, struggling to radiate warmth across his face. The resultant smile was more of a grimace.

  “I received a call from an agent we had placed in America over thirty years ago. A deep sleeper. He was only to contact us if activated or if he believed his information was critical to Russia. To be honest, I had forgotten he even existed but he continued to receive data from us. He is a senior manager within the immigration department and was made aware of an alert that Sean Fox had entered America.”

  “He was aware of our interest in this name and as such, knowing that he was probably the only Russian agent party to this information, made the calls to his handlers.”

  “Calls?” queried Surkov with some confusion.

  “When he was inserted, it was a joint GRU/KGB operation. He had two handlers myself and the Director of the Science division at KGB.”

  “Surely two handlers doubled the chance of interception?”

  “We had had a number of high profile embarrassments. The Americans had been playing GRU and KGB off against one another. The two contacts would ensure the same Intel was relayed to both agencies directly from the agent, without any political interference.”

  Surkov nodded, he understood the political interference referred to in-fighting between the two agencies for control. In principle, the idea was sound.

  “Of course, it was a disaster. You were right. The number of agents arrested increased dramatically and shortly after, the trial was abandoned. To be honest, this agent is probably the only one who still operates under joint control. He is of course unaware of any changes to operational procedure. This would never be sent in an update in case of interception. He is simply aware of areas of interest to us.”

  Surkov shook his head in amazement. Thirty years on, this man gained information and followed the protocols learned a generation earlier and fulfilled his promise to his motherland. He was without a doubt a true hero to his country.

  “So who received the other call?”

  “The Director of Science Department at SVR.”

  “Mikhail Beryutov?” asked Surkov, very aware of the name.

  Borodin nodded.

  Surkov nodded knowingly. There was no need to discuss the fact that he was no longer an issue.

  “And?”

  “I dispatched two agents as a matter of urgency, the closest were SVR. So, using Beryutov as cover, I ordered them to Fox’s last known location to deal with any loose ends.”

  Again Surkov nodded. He understood the reference to loose ends. There was no need for Borodin to explicitly say the killing of the widow and child.

  Surkov waited for Borodin to restart but he remained silent. As far as Borodin
was concerned, Surkov appeared to know everything he was telling him and he was simply going over old ground.

  “Continue,” commanded Surkov with an almost regal wave of his hand.

  Borodin almost tore the arm off of the sofa as he fought to stop himself from ripping the old man’s throat out. He grimaced before continuing. His ability to smile had all but left his body.

  “Our agents went in but as they were about to carry out their orders, Sean Fox appeared and as far as they were concerned, their orders no longer stood.”

  “Why exactly?” criticized Surkov acidly.

  “If Sean Fox was alive, how could they kill his widow?”

  Surkov smiled wryly at the rationality of the agents’ actions.

  “They have been dealt with!” explained Borodin dryly, removing Surkov’s smile.

  “And what of Sean Fox?”

  “He is of no concern. I have a team arriving in the next couple of hours,” replied Borodin with some conviction. He was beginning to exert his authority on the situation. He had had enough of the games and wanted some answers himself.

  “Now tell me why he is of such interest?”

  “He is not of any interest,” replied Surkov simply.

  Borodin sat bolt upright. “Sorry?”

  “I am not the least bit interested in Sean Fox.”

  “But you issued the original request to have him killed if he surfaced, some five years ago?”

  “Yes but he is not of interest!”

  “So what is he?” asked Borodin, following on from Surkov’s hint in emphasizing interest.

  “The single biggest risk to our country since the end of Communism.”

  Chapter 31

  Luis shook his head. These Americans always talked in riddles. They could never just say what they meant. The woman was curled in a ball crying her eyes out while the American sat hopelessly looking at her with large sad eyes. He picked up his Desert Eagle and turned his attention to the TV. The pictures of the armored personnel carriers on the bridge had just started beaming live as he joined the coverage.