David Golemon - Ripper

“I don’t think a cave-in can explain that,” Collins said as he duckwalked forward and then pulled the upper torso of the remains free of the dirt and sand. He saw something shiny in the flashlight’s beam. “Look at this,” he said as he raised the collar so Will and Carl could see. There was a U.S. button on the left collar and on the epaulet was the emblem Jack recognized immediately. It was a shield with the upper half of a rearing horse. The walking bear on top of the shield gave the unit its identity: “The 8th Cavalry regiment.”

“Then I guess the report from Pete was accurate enough,” Everett said, his eyes not moving from the large bite indentations in the bone of the hundred-year-old remains.

Jack noticed something in the collapsed debris and reached out and picked it up. It was a large chunk of old concrete. He lifted it to his nose and smelled. He then tossed the small piece to Everett who did the same.

“Dynamite, or something close to it,” Carl said as he found others near the two bodies. As he examined the piece of concrete, he noticed a strap of some kind poking from the remains of the rubble. He dropped the scorched remains of old flooring and reached down and tugged on the strap. He saw that the old piece of coarse material was starting to rip away so he went to his knees and dug out not only the strap, but a cracked and weathered saddlebag. He saw the U.S. marking on the double bag and then opened it up, shining his flashlight inside. His eyes widened as he saw the gleaming, glistening objects inside. Carl stepped away from Jack and Mendenhall and toward the far wall of the old laboratory. He sat the bag down easily and then stepped away.

“What is it?” Collins asked as he noticed the careful way Carl handled the old saddlebag.

“Oh, about twenty sticks of old dynamite, with enough nitroglycerine sweating out of it to blow this room to bits.”

“That’s the nice thing about dynamite; it only gets better with age.”

“What do you make of these, Colonel?” Mendenhall said as he stepped over to several of the undamaged wooden barrels. He bent over and with his gloved hand started to pick up some of the fallen contents, but before he could Jack reached out and stayed his hand. Collins just shook his head. “They look like dried flowers,” he said and then saw Jack’s eyes as he took in barrel upon barrel of the same foul-smelling and fermenting dry goods. Mendenhall was suddenly glad the colonel had stopped him from touching the contents.

“Jack, this stuff, it looks like poppies, but not anything I have ever seen before,” Everett said as he examined more of the sealed barrels.

“Maybe Guzman is producing heroin down here,” Will offered.

“Not unless his great grandfather was down here making it.” Jack straightened and looked around the large room, only half of which they could see due to the cave-in. His light illuminated a hundred glass jars on shelves that had survived the eruption. Then he moved the light to a small table with many steel syringes upon its top. He was about to comment when there was a loud noise that came through the floorboards from above. Heavy boots of more than just a few men had entered the basement above them.

“I will ask one last time. Who you work for? My contacts at your front company, Texaco, say they have never heard of you.”

Jack tried to trace the voice but ran into the thickest part of the cave-in. He tracked the sound with his Beretta aimed but knew he could blindly shoot up through the floorboards.

“Then you leave me no choice. I will leave my brother Eduardo here to ask again. He will not be as polite.”

All three men below the voices heard the men above turn and again vanish up what must have been a set of stairs.

“I have looked forward to this since we took you this afternoon,” the deeper voice said as the sound of keys was heard through the cracks in the wood flooring.

“You’re the son of a bitch that shot my friend at the excavation site.”

Jack closed his eyes as he heard the female voice. Everett patted Collins on the shoulder and nodded his head. Sarah was alive. The smile immediately left Carl’s face when they heard the keys enter the lock.

“Sí, I shot your friends, just as I am going to start shooting everyone in this cell, starting with the girls you seemed destined to protect.” The creaking of the cell door opening was heard, and Jack’s face became a set piece of rage just as the screams came from women they could not see.

Jack heard a slap and a grunt and he assumed Sarah had just been struck. Then he heard, “Ah, ever the hero, señor.” They all heard a thud and then a loud grunt.

“Stop it!” came Sarah’s voice.

“That’s the bastard that killed Udall and shot Ryan,” Mendenhall hissed.

“Quiet Lieutenant,” Everett hissed.

Will stormed off to the far wall where the glass jars of liquid and some of the powders were stored. He felt like striking out and slapping all of them onto the floor.

Collins knew he had to chance it. He holstered his nine millimeter, raised the M-14 carbine, and aimed it at the old wood flooring above, ready to cut his way through. Everett reached out and placed an old rickety stool beneath the spot where Jack was about to make a brand-new doorway.

“No,” Will said almost not loud enough to stop them.

Collins angrily lowered the weapon and then pointed to a section of the flooring above the stored jars on the shelving against the far wall. Somehow they had missed that area in their recent search. As they looked, Mendenhall was pointing at a spot that had two missing planks in the flooring. Jack closed his eyes, thankful that Will had found what he had. He nodded. He and Everett went over to the spot and looked up. They could see the ceiling on the floor above. There were no obstacles blocking their sight. They had a way in, and it was far enough away from the cell above to give them the advantage.

“Okay, we move before this asshole’s friends return. I need a boost,” Collins said looking at Everett, who looked down, not wanting to meet Jack’s eyes.

“Will is the better shot, Jack.” Everett looked from the colonel to the younger lieutenant.

“Besides, that pig shot my friend,” Mendenhall said as he reached out and took Jack’s nine millimeter out of its holster. He handed over his MP-5 and then made sure he had a round chambered in the Beretta. He also twisted on the large suppressor at the barrel’s tip to make sure it hadn’t worked its way loose since they entered the culvert.

Collins nodded his head as he realized that in the past five years Mendenhall had surpassed him and Everett both at the gun range. The lieutenant was now the best shot he had ever trained.

“Don’t you miss,” Everett said before Jack could. “Or don’t come back,” said Jack, trying to get Will to relax.

Mendenhall dipped his head and then took a deep breath. “I’ve counted three hanging light fixtures through the cracks in the flooring. Do you think you old guys can take them out through an inch of wood?”

The two men didn’t respond but did give Will a dirty look.

“Good. I’ll wait until it’s dark before I take that slimy prick out.”

Everett bent to one knee and cupped his hands together. “If you fuck this up, I’ll be the first to tell Ryan you missed the guy who shot him.”

After Will nodded his head, he took a few more breaths and then stepped into the hands of the captain. Then he was up and through the empty space where the planks were missing. Everett quickly scrambled away after making sure Mendenhall didn’t have to beat a hasty retreat.

“I figure you take out the light here. I’ll get the one closest to the cell, and then we meet to take out the middle one. The darkness should give Will the time and advantage he needs.”