David Golemon - Ripper

“That was a ballsy thing you did at the hacienda, so I may ask you the same question: who in the hell are you ?”

Jack realized he was in a bit of a confrontation and didn’t know why. Was he looking at a possible DELTA operative? Were they Rangers perhaps? He felt Captain Everett step to his side and knew the former SEAL was looking their rescuer over just as he had.

“Seems we only lost the one girl, Col—” Everett caught himself before speaking aloud Jack’s rank, but not before the large man in black Nomex clothing looked at Carl and a small smile crossed his lips. “We have one down, and it looks like we may not lose anyone except for our French friend, who’s lost a lot of blood.”

“There’s help just across the river. In the meantime we have a large group of men heading this way from the hacienda. I suggest you get the hell out of here. Look, is there anything back there at the hacienda that needs retrieval?”

As Jack waved Everett out and when he saw that Will and Sarah were assisting Henri toward the opening of the culvert, he stepped closer to the man in charge of the highly trained professional group that had come to their aid.

“There’s nothing left back there. Again, your unit and rank?” Jack asked again, softening the question somewhat with a smile and an offer of a handshake.

“If you have the training I suspect that you have … colonel, is it? Then you should know better than to ask that, especially of someone who just saved your ass. For now let’s just say it’s just a tad above your pay grade to know.”

Jack watched the man turn and head for the opening of the culvert. He saw that Carl was waiting for him. He held out a bottle of water one of the rescue team had given him and Jack took it with his uninjured hand and drank deeply.

“Who in the hell are those guys?” Carl asked as he watched the man splash his way out into the moonlight. “He’s not navy, that’s for sure.”

Jack lowered the bottle of water as he started forward to get out into the night air. “And you know that because?”

“Because he didn’t start bragging about what a great operation they had just conducted.” Everett smiled, “You know a SEAL would have never passed up the opportunity to gig the army like that.”

“You have a point.”

Ahead Mendenhall and Sarah helped the weakened Farbeaux out of the opening and into the cool night air along the Rio Grande. Across the river they could see border patrolmen and helicopters as they flew low with their spotlights shining across the way. Mendenhall hit a slick moss-covered rock and lost his footing. He almost went down, pulling the Frenchman with him. As Sarah tried to hold both of them upright, something fell from Henri’s shirt. It rolled into the water at their feet and before Farbeaux could react, a large, gloved hand reached out and retrieved the glass jar Farbeaux had removed from the laboratory in the final moments of their escape.

Sarah, Will, and Henri righted themselves and then looked up into the face of the man who led the team that saved them. He looked from the jar of amber liquid to the faces of the three people standing before him.

“What is that, Henri?” Sarah whispered into his ear.

“Something that needs to be handled carefully,” Jack said as he removed the jar from the stranger’s gloved hand. Holding it, he looked at Farbeaux closely and the Frenchman meekly shrugged his shoulders.

“Bad guy, remember?” he said in a pain-filled voice.

Jack handed the large sealed jar off to Everett and then looked the big man over once more as he heard shouts from across the river.

“Since you can’t tell me what your unit is, perhaps you can tell me if we have any air assets nearby?”

The man’s eyes were still on the jar that Everett was holding, and instead of answering Jack’s question, he asked one of his own. “Does that,” he said nodding at the jar of amber liquid, “have anything to do with that thing we saved you from — the Incredible Hulk — looking bastard in there?”

Jack smiled. “I’m afraid that’s a bit above your pay grade.” He stepped closer to the man, happy he could reciprocate this jerk’s earlier rebuke. “Now, are there any air assets close by?”

“Number three, radio please?” the black-clad man said holding out his hand while never letting his eyes leave the filthy face of Jack Collins. “TAC three.” The man took the handheld radio and then offered it to the colonel who took it without removing his eyes from the strangers. “I believe national command authority has ears on TAC three,” the man said as his eyes flitted from Jack toward Everett and the jar he was holding. He slapped Collins on the left shoulder, expertly placing a small tracking device that was radium based and could be tracked from space. Then he stepped a few feet away as Collins raised the radio. Before he spoke he changed the frequency from tactical channel three to another he knew by heart. He turned his back on the others and faced the river.

“Viking Two, this is Berserker. Over.”

“Good to hear you voice Berserker,” answered the familiar voice of Niles Compton. “We have company listening in, the CEO in fact … do you copy, Berserker?”

“Copy. We are somewhat compromised, so I’ll make this as brief as possible. We have to strike at that compound. We have to level it.”

The others heard Jack’s words and not one of them was surprised to hear the request.

“No can do. We have questions that need to be answered first. The Mexican authorities are almost there to take possession of Perdition.”

Jack knew the sound of the president’s voice. He grimaced and then raised the radio to his lips, but before he could answer the commander in chief, the large Nomex-clad man interfered.

“Are you saying there is more of this over there?” he asked not too politely.

Jack ignored the large man and stepped away. The man tried to follow, but Everett stepped between him and the colonel. The captain just shook his head, saying that following Jack was a bad idea.

“Listen, we have a mess inside that hacienda,” Jack said. “There are chemicals there that are as dangerous as any I’ve ever seen. If they are not destroyed we could be looking at a bleak situation if they fall into bad-guy hands. I mean serious trouble.”

“We are in enough trouble. Stand down, Colonel. That is a direct order.”

Jack lowered the radio and then looked at the tired faces around him. That was when he noticed that the large man and his team had vanished. He looked around and saw that Everett pointed to the edge of the river where the last of the darkly clothed men vanished into the water. As he turned back and raised the radio one last time, he angrily hit the transmit button.

“You can send a DELTA unit in to help us, but we can’t level the distribution hub of a known terrorist and drug dealer?”

“Just what are you talking about … no, never mind, just get your asses back across the border. We’ll talk later.”

Jack thought the president had gone and then he heard a question that relaxed him a little.

“Colonel, is Lieutenant McIntire alright?”

“Yes, sir, she’s been roughed up some, but she’s fine.”

“Good … good,” the president said after an eternity of silence.

“Jack, just across the river Pete Golding will meet you with a Blackhawk. May I suggest you get on it so we can go home?”

“Niles, we have to make sure that the hacienda is totally destroyed. If the president can send in a rescue team, why can’t we send in air assets to knock Perdition’s Gate flat?”

“Colonel, the rescue the president ordered is still in the air and won’t land in Laredo for another thirty minutes. There was no rescue OP that came across the border on his orders.”