David Golemon - Ripper

“Simple. Number one, he considers anything in a thousand-mile radius his personal territory. Number two, he does collect anything and everything concerning his Mexican heritage. He actually conducted an interview last year on Mexican television where he extolled the need to keep Mexico’s history and heritage in Mexico. I think Sarah and the field team were a convenient target of opportunity, nothing more.”

Jack listened and then pulled back the curtain to the computer center. There, revealed like the Wizard of Oz, was Pete Golding and his expanded computer team. Pete turned away from a large 55-inch monitor and rolled his chair back to face the colonel.

“Jack, you have my—”

“Later, Doc. What have you come up with?”

“Yes, of course,” Pete said as he turned to face the large monitor. “Well, thanks to the director and the U.S. Air Force, we have a Predator drone up and flying high over the Guzman hacienda. Thus far Europa has pinpointed seventeen guards on the outside of the immediate hacienda, but it has picked up numerous heat sources coming from the buildings outlying the main house, which as you can see is expansive as hell. There could be another hundred inside of those buildings, and according to the FBI and the Mexican national police, that estimate could be on the low side.”

Collins looked at the monitor and the large hacienda that belonged to Juan Guzman. He saw a large swimming pool, a tennis court, and riding stables. It had a private airstrip and hangars for at least five or six aircraft. A helicopter sat upon a helipad at the center of the compound.

“I see the drug trade is still paying high dividends,” Everett commented as he saw the same thing Jack was seeing.

“Pete, is there any intel on where this son of a bitch would keep…,” Jack swallowed, “would keep the women he has taken?”

“No, but I can ask Europa for her best guess just as soon as she steals the hacienda’s specs from the Mexican government.”

Jack and the rest knew the supercomputer’s job was “backdooring” other systems, and she was damn good at it. She had even broken into her sister Cray’s systems at Langley, the FBI, and the Pentagon in the past.

“Why would the Mexican government have his house plans? Wouldn’t that be under the state’s purview?” Niles asked ahead of Collins.

“Normally, yes it would be, but it seems Europa has dug up a title of deed that says this property and house used to belong to the federal government of Mexico at the turn of the century. And here’s another little bit of interesting history. In March of 1916, none other than General John “Black Jack” Pershing himself, with Lieutenant George S. Patton at his side, raided into Mexico.” At this point Pete turned to the large screen, punched a few buttons on his keyboard, and the screen changed to some very old photographs of the same Guzman hacienda, but in far-earlier times. The pictures were scratched and were stamped “Property of U.S. National Archives.”

“Europa got these from our own database?” Niles asked.

“Just now uncovered them,” Pete answered with a little bit of pride at what his supercomputer turned up. “It seems our own department, in one of the first missions ever assigned to it, had business in 1916, and Europa says that we have a vault full of information, but since it was one of the first missions of Department 5656 the material was never catalogued.” Pete looked up with a bit of sadness etched into his features, “Things may have been a little different for the Event Group in the early days.”

“No excuse. Find the vault number and get our archivists into it.”

“Europa already tracked the vault down. It’s in Arlington, the old complex site. Get this, President Franklin Roosevelt ordered the vault sealed and left behind when the department moved operations to Nevada.”

“Good information Dr. Golding, but what does this have to do with what’s happening now?” Mendenhall asked, frustrated at the slowness of the intelligence.

“Possibly nothing, but maybe everything,” Pete said as he tapped the screen. “The official reason for the raid into Mexico by the 8th United States Cavalry regiment was to capture or kill the Mexican bandit, Pancho Villa. Now according to history and U.S. Army reports, Villa was nowhere near the border town of Nuevo Laredo at the time of the raid, yet the regiment spent two days in Laredo and at this very same hacienda, named Perdition’s Gate. Three of its outer buildings were burned to the ground and several people were killed by American troops. It caused quite a stir in the Mexico City newspapers. Thus far we have found no justification for Pershing’s raid on that particular hacienda or the Event Group’s involvement in the attack. But if we can get into that vault, number 0011 inside the old complex, we may find a way inside that hacienda.”

“Maybe it was a safe harbor for Pancho Villa,” Everett said.

“Not likely. Now here is the most interesting part. This very same land two years before was owned by none other than Ramon Carbajal, a very close ally and friend to Villa. It is documented that Pancho Villa never went there, and he gave orders to his men never to frequent that particular part of Mexico. That is documented from former members of his revolutionary council. And here is something far stranger gentlemen. The land and hacienda were not owned by a Mexican national; they were sold to an American citizen, a Professor Lawrence Ambrose. We’re currently running a check on him as we speak. However, I get off the point. This Professor Ambrose is the reason we have the hacienda floor plans, a detailed drawing by an Army Corp of Engineers captain during the time of the Pershing raid. According to the grids on this property map, they were very systematic, like they were searching for something. This is how Europa will base her best guess as to the location of any hostages.”

“Damn good Pete,” Everett said. “Can we get a printout of those drawings?”

“Does the FBI have access to this?” Jack asked.

“No, I haven’t forwarded any of our information through the president as of yet.”

“Don’t. This stays in-house for the time being,” Collins said as he looked over at Niles, who reluctantly nodded.

“I’m with you Jack — for now. But we have to wait for the president’s word on when to go in.”

“What is Mr. Ryan’s condition?” Jack asked, ashamed that his lieutenant had been his second thought in all of his worries.

“The American consul in Nuevo Laredo got to him before he was wheeled into surgery. He was then secured by a field team from the FBI and he’s now on his way to Las Vegas. It’s serious, but our docs say he’ll make it. He hasn’t given us a statement as of yet.”

“Colonel, what if we’re rushing this on Ryan? If he needs surgery, why didn’t we leave him in place and allow the surgeons to take care of him there?” Mendenhall asked, worried about his close friend.

“What do you think this Guzman is going to do when he learns he may have left an eyewitness to the murder of two Mexican nationals and the kidnapping of two American women?” Without another word Collins turned and left the computer center to make his way into the tactical room where he would pore over every bit of intelligence Pete had come up with.

Will nodded his head and then followed the colonel.

Carl Everett hesitated a moment before following Jack and faced the director.

“Niles, you know Jack’s going to that hacienda with or without the president’s order.”

“I know that, but we need to give him the time to plan it out right,” Compton explained and then took the printout of the hacienda plans from Pete. “Use these and find a way in there. I need to find out exactly why our Group was there almost a hundred years before we even heard of Perdition’s Gate, and exactly why the mission wasn’t catalogued in our archives. Now, please find a way in there and get Sarah the hell out.”