Уильям Дитц - Into the Guns

“And the Zapata drug cartel took control of the facility two days ago. There wasn’t much to stop them, just some rent-a-cops, and they went down in a matter of minutes.”

Victoria frowned. “But why?”

“We aren’t sure,” General Macintyre replied. “But here’s an educated guess. A man named Felipe Cabrera runs the cartel. And if the reports are true, he has plans to reshape it.”

“Into what?”

“Into a narco state,” her father answered. “A narco state with its own communications, weather, and spy satellites. All launched and controlled from Brownsville. According to sources in Mexico, Cabrera sees this as the perfect opportunity to grab what he wants. He captured the port facility as well.”

“Okay,” Victoria said, “that’s a serious problem. But what’s he got? Some gangbangers armed with assault rifles? We’ll throw a battalion of troops at him, send in some gunships, and boom! End of problem.”

“If only it were that easy,” General Macintyre replied as he raised a remote. “Take a look at this.” The video had been captured by a drone. The facility consisted of a circle divided into quadrants by crisscrossing streets. Notable features included clusters of small buildings, fuel tanks, and four spindly com towers.

Judging from what Victoria could see, the Zapatas were equipped with personnel carriers that had once been the property of the Mexican army, a variety of SUVs, and three pieces of towed artillery. Bulldozers and backhoes were being used to construct defensive barriers. And, as Victoria watched from above, a Zapata fired an RPG at the airborne camera. It missed. Then, as the UAV turned east, Victoria saw something that caught her by surprise. “Holy shit… What’s that ?”

“That,” her father said, “is the destroyer ARM Netzahualcoyotl D-102, formerly known as the USS Steinaker . She was commissioned on May 26, 1945, and transferred to Mexico on February 24, 1982. And, based on her presence in this video, we can assume that the Zapatas seized control of the ship subsequent to the meteor strikes and intentionally ran her aground.”

The last part was certainly true. As Victoria watched the video, she could see that the destroyer’s bow was way up on the beach—and that put her within a thousand feet of the Space X launchpad. “But why ?” she wondered out loud.

“We figure that the Zapatas lack the skills and resources necessary to keep the Netzahualcoyotl at sea,” General Macintyre said. “Maybe they killed too many of the crew or maybe anything. So they ran her ashore. And the reason for that is mounted on the ship’s bow. See that butt-ugly turret? That’s a Russian-made Kashtan antiaircraft weapons system. The Russkies gave it to the Mexican navy a year ago in hopes that they’d buy some.

“It boasts two six-barreled 30mm rotary cannons and 9M311 launchers, equipped with four ready-to-fire missiles. They’re fed by a reloading system that contains thirty-two missiles in ready-to-launch containers. And the whole thing is controlled by an integral scanning and targeting system. The basic idea is to throw so much ordnance into the air that nothing can get through it. And that’s why we aren’t sending any Apaches in to hose the place down. As for long-range artillery and surface-to-surface missiles, they would erase the facility… And we might need it later on.”

As if to illustrate the problem, the Kashtan turret swiveled toward the camera and fired. The screen went black, and as it did, Victoria understood Cabrera’s plan. The destroyer was there to prevent air attacks while work on the fortifications was completed, and the gang leader brought more AA weapons in from the south. It was a brilliant example of guerilla warfare. There was a sardonic smile on his father’s face. “Nifty, huh?”

“Yes, sir,” Victoria answered. “And my orders are?”

“Take the launch facility back and hold it until you’re relieved.”

Victoria stood. “Yes, sir. Is there anything else?”

“Yes,” General Macintyre said as he made a steeple with his fingers. “Teach the Zapatas a lesson they’ll remember. It’s only a matter of time until the Northerners attack us. We need to lock the back door now.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Victoria promised, and with that, she left the room.

BROWNSVILLE, TEXAS

Prior to the meteor strikes Brownsville, Texas, had been a major economic hub for shipping, a center of manufacturing, and home to a lot of poor people. The air was heavy with moisture as the task force rolled into town, and Victoria thought it might rain. Two days had passed since the conversation with her father, and most of it had been spent gathering the resources necessary to carry out her mission. The column consisted of two Abrams tanks, some smaller vehicles, and a long line of trucks.

The Zapatas had been using captured artillery to shell the city—and columns of black smoke were rising up ahead. Fortunately, the local National Guard unit, the Brownsville Police Department, and a makeshift army of citizens had managed to hold the northern part of the city. Victoria was counting on her tanks to clear the way to Highway 4, where Task Force Snake would turn east.

Victoria was riding in the back of a specially equipped com truck, sitting elbow to elbow with a tech sergeant as the vic’s tires bumped over the pieces of debris that lay on the pavement. An array of screens were positioned in front of them, and thanks to the video provided by no less than three drones, Victoria could see what lay ahead.

As her convoy pushed through a barricade manned by cheering locals, she saw that the enemy was falling back. They had some RPG-29s and the capacity to call for artillery support, but they didn’t know how to do it effectively. As a result, howitzer shells began to fall around the convoy, but none of them were on target.

Explosions threw dust and debris into the air, and Victoria could hear the rattle of small-arms fire, as the Zapatas tried to slow the juggernaut that was smashing through their lines. Those efforts failed as the tank commanders opened fire with their 105mm guns, and squads of infantry rushed forward to claim contested ground.

Because the effort was going well, Victoria felt free to turn her attention elsewhere. “Snake-Six actual to Sky-Hammer,” she said. “Do you read me? Over.”

“This is Sky-Hammer actual. I read you five by five. Over.”

“Destroy the bridge. Over.” The bridge Victoria was referring to was the B&M Bridge over the Rio Grande river. Without it, the Zapatas couldn’t bring vehicles into Brownsville and would have to retreat on foot if at all.

“Roger that,” Sky-Hammer replied. “Keep your heads down. Over.”

The MGM-140 Army Tactical Missile System was more than sixty miles away when two guided missiles flashed out of the boxy launcher and vanished into the low-hanging clouds. Victoria watched via one of the drones as both rockets hit the B&M Bridge at midspan and exploded. A large gap appeared as the smoke cleared. Mission accomplished.

“We’re coming up on the exit for Highway 4,” the tech sergeant announced.

“Got it,” Victoria replied. “Tell the driver to pull over, so I can switch vehicles. And keep me informed.”

“Yes, ma’am. Watch your six.”

Victoria was wearing a full combat rig as she left the com truck. She was carrying an M4 carbine. A couple of dune buggy–like Desert Patrol Vehicles had been tagging along behind the com truck, and both pulled up alongside it. Sergeant Cora Tarvin was driving one of the buggies, with Private Roy Poston riding shotgun. Corporal Jimmy Gatlin was behind the wheel of the other. A pair of retro goggles protected his eyes. “Good morning, ma’am… Fancy meeting you here.” All three were members of Victoria’s special ops team.