THE TARGET
by
LEE GIMENEZ
August, 2012 – Vizcaya,
The black helicopter was flying low, almost grazing the forest’s treetops. Jason saw it coming his way, fast. He heard the roar of its turbo jet engines, and at the same time, saw the blasts from its machine guns. He threw himself on the ground, the ravine providing cover. Bullets thudded into the ground around him, kicking up gravel and dirt. He knew his flexsuit would protect him from ricocheting rocks, but a direct hit from the armor piercing bullets would tear him to shreds.
The chopper thundered past him, still flying low, turning around now for a second strafing run. Jason grabbed his shoulder fired rocket launcher and pointed at the chopper. He had only one chance – if he missed, it was all over. The helicopter started spraying bullets again, this time much closer to his position. He eyed the crosshairs on the launcher and steadied himself. Just as he pulled the trigger, a bullet struck his shoulder, knocking him flat on his back.
He heard the roar of the explosion overhead, and felt the heat from the blast. The chopper dropped from the sky like a rock, crashing to the ground into a tangled mess of metal and fire.
He lay on his back, gasping for air and bleeding heavily from the bullet wound. The pain was blinding. He stabbed himself with a morphine tube, picked up his weapons and backpack, and started to crawl away. It was too dangerous to stay where he was.
“This is Jason at location 7256, can you read me?” he said into the Com on his wrist. He was about 3 miles from the crash site. “John, can you hear me?” All he got back was static.
It was pitch black out now; past
Two months ago, during the planning stages, this mission had seemed straight forward. Do HALO parachute jumps from 30,000 feet, take out the target, and get out of Vizcaya. Five operators, one week. Now he had been in-country two weeks, was wounded, and was the last operator alive. The four other unit members had been killed. The target had gotten away and the mission had been a total failure.
The morphine kept the pain away and he had stitched up his wound. The bleeding was less now. He spoke into the Com again. “John, can hear me? This is Jason at location 7256.”
Faintly, he heard back. “Jason, this is Ops. Tell me your condition.”
“I’ve been hit. The bullet went through me. I lost a lot of blood but I’m hanging in.”
“Okay, Jason,” John at Blackstone Ops said. “I’ve got some bad news for you. The mission’s been compromised. We can’t pull you out. There must have been a leak in the info flow – that’s why this thing been so screwed up from the beginning.”
“What are you saying, John?”
“You’ll have to find your own way out of the country.”
“That’s suicide!” Jason screamed into his Com. “Without backup there’s no way I can get out of here!”
“I’m sorry, Jason. But the President has pulled the plug on the operation. It’s become a political hot potato. He can’t be tied to a botched operation, especially right before the election.”
“Can you give me anything…?” Jason pleaded. “Supplies, ammo…anything?”
Suddenly, the Com line went dead. Jason had his answer.
Jason Steel had been with this unit of operators, Blackstone, for 5 years. They did contract work for the CIA. Some would call them mercenaries – he thought of himself as a patriot, doing the dirty work no one else wanted to do. Most of it was assassinations of foreign targets. And it paid well. Very well. He was 43 and in a couple of years he hoped to retire.
The only problem was, when things got ugly, the CIA would pull the plug and take away support. Like now. But Jason was a realist; he knew the risks going into every operation. Most were successful. However, this one had been especially bad. Somehow, the mission had been compromised, probably back in
Jason strapped on his backpack, slung his weapon over his shoulder and took a bearing using his Com. If he jogged at a good clip, he thought he could be in Rosario, a small village on the coast by daybreak. That’s if his shoulder didn’t start bleeding again and if the helicopters didn’t spot him.
Dead tired from his night run, he reached the outskirts of the village by dawn. He slumped against a tree, slid to the ground and fell asleep.
“Despiertate, senor,” the young woman said.
Startled, Jason woke up, and looked up at the woman. She was attractive, with rich brown skin and long hair, about 25 years old. She was meztizo, the native blend of Spanish and Indian.
“Me puedes ayudar?” he asked her in Spanish. “Hablas ingles?”
“Yes, I speak English,” she said in a heavy Spanish accent. “What kind of help do you need?”
Jason touched his shoulder. “I’ve been hurt…I need a place to stay. I’ll pay you well.”
She bent down to get a closer look at his shoulder. “I will ask my father if you can stay with us at our farm. But if you have money, I am sure it will be fine with him. You’ve been injured badly. It looks like it’s infected; and you’re bleeding quite a bit…we can take you to the hospital in town…”
“No, no hospital. If you can clean up the wound, I’m sure it will be okay,” Jason said, and passed out.
Two days later, Jason woke up, his shoulder heavily bandaged. He was lying on a small cot, in what looked like an old barn.
The young woman was sitting next to him. “My name is Maria. Who are you?”
“My name’s Jason. By the way, your English is very good. Where did you learn it?”
“I went to the Catholic school in
Jason rubbed his shoulder. “Thanks for patching me up.”
“My father treats the animals on our farm; he bandaged you up and gave you some antibiotics. Since you didn’t want to go to the hospital, you must be hiding from someone.”
Jason smiled at her. “Something like that. What is this place?”
“You’re in our barn. You’ll be safe here. We heard the helicopters circling a few days ago. Garcia’s army must be after you. Is that right?”
He wasn’t sure he could trust her, but his instincts told him she was okay. “Yes, his men are after me.”
“No te preocupes. Do not worry,” Maria said. “I hate Garcia, and what he’s done to our country.”
“That’s good,” he said, pulling out his wallet and offering her several large bills. “Here’s for your help.”
She took the money. “Gracias, Jason. We are a poor family.”
Jason spent the next week at the barn, recuperating. Maria brought him meals and her father rebandaged his wound every day. While resting, he mulled over his next course of action. He knew Garcia’s men would continue searching for him and would find him eventually. He had to leave the country as soon as possible. The problem was he had no contacts and no transportation.
The next day, when Maria brought him lunch, her hands were shaky. Her large brown eyes showed concern. “Garcia’s men are in town. They are searching house by house. They are bound to come to our farm today.”
Jason grabbed his Glock machine pistol and slung it over his shoulder. “I know this would happen sooner or later. I need to leave now.”
“Where will you go?” Maria asked.
“
“Take me with you,” she pleaded.
“It’s going to be a dangerous trip…I probably won’t make it alive.”
“I do not care. I hate living in Vizcaya now. Garcia has ruined our country.”
“What about your family? You’re willing to leave them behind?”
“My father is old, he is resigned to this place. My sister likes the regime…”
Just then, they heard the growl of tank engines approaching. Jason looked out the window and saw several army tanks surrounding the farm house. Men in fatigues and submachine guns were breaking into the house, located about 100 yards from the barn. The soldiers dragged out Maria’s father and sister into the front yard, and began yelling at them. Jason saw the father lower his head, then saw the sister point in the barn’s direction. Suddenly, one of the soldiers sprayed the farm house with gunfire, killing the father in the process.
Jason grabbed Maria by the arm, and ran out the barn’s back door.
“This way,” Maria said, leading them toward the creek behind the barn. “We have a small boat – we can get to the bay this way.”
They climbed into the boat, and Jason fired up the motor. They could hear the soldiers shouting and firing their weapons. Jason gunned the engine and the boat shuddered away from the farm. He pushed Maria to the bottom of the boat, as bullets whizzed overhead. Luckily, the creek zigzagged, making it difficult for the soldiers to hit the boat. Jason steered for miles along the winding creek, which then widened into a large river. They landed on a gravel beach next to a wooded area of the river. They carried the boat into the woods and pulled dead branches to conceal it. They began to hear army helicopters hovering in the sky.
As they huddled underneath the branches, Jason said. “We’ll have to hide out here tonight. Maybe by tomorrow we can leave…”
Maria was crying, her shoulders shaking with the sobs.
“I’m sorry about your father, Maria. Garcia’s men are murderers.”
He kept watch that night, with his machine pistol at the ready. The choppers circled all night, but by dawn, they seemed to have moved back toward town.
The sky was overcast the next morning, a light rain falling over the woods. For breakfast, Jason and Maria had energy bars from his backpack.
“How do you plan to get to
Jason laughed. “Not on your little boat, that’s for sure. We need to get a fast boat. It’s a long way from here to
Maria’s brows knitted. “In the bay just outside of town, there is a marina. Rich tourists dock their boats there…”
“Tonight, after dark, we’ll scout it out,” he said. “We’ll have to borrow one.”
That night, they pulled the small boat back into the water and followed the river out to the bay. Jason didn’t see any helicopters out tonight. They could see the lights from the town square in the distance, but it seemed quiet there. They puttered the small boat up to the marina. As Maria had described, there were several large yachts and fishing boats anchored there. Jason pulled up next to one of the cruisers, a 50 footer with big twin engines. There were no lights showing from the cabins. He tied up their boat to the back of the yacht.
Jason slung his machine pistol over his shoulder and pulled out a long knife. “Wait here,” he told Maria. “If you hear any gunfire, get the hell out of here.” With that, he pulled himself up the larger boat and walked toward the cabins.
He forced open the main cabin door and climbed down into the cabin. Suddenly, a light went on and he heard a voice. Damn. He was hoping nobody would have to get hurt.
A brawny, shirtless man appeared in front of him, a shotgun in his hand. “Parate, ladron!” the man yelled.
Jason kicked the shotgun to one side, while driving his body into the other man. He held the knife tightly, plunging into the man’s heart. Jason heard a gurgling sound, and blood splattered the beautiful white cabin.
He searched the rest of the yacht; luckily, no one else was on board. He turned off the light and went to get Maria.
The large boat was fully stocked with food and fuel – enough to get them to
Once in deep water, he set the ship on cruise control. He got Maria to clean up the bloody cabin, while he dumped the body overboard.
They motored all night, the light chop of the
Jason smiled. “We’re here! I had my doubts, but we made it.”
Maria hugged him and gave him a kiss. “Thank you for taking me with you.” She then took his hand and led him to one of the cabin rooms. “And I want to thank you some more.”
The next morning, over breakfast, they turned on the ship’s TV. Jason surfed the channels and settled on one of the cable news outlets.
The news anchor, a young male reporter with perfect hair, was talking about the upcoming
Jason turned off the TV and turned on the Com on his wrist. “This is Jason. Can you read me, John?”
“Yes, loud and clear…go ahead Jason.”
“I just saw the news – it looks like Garcia’s going to be making trouble,” Jason said.
“It’s all over
Jason shook his head. “I can’t believe they’d risk American lives over this election.”
“Believe it,” John said. “This is a snake pit right now. And something else. Something much worse for you. There’s a rumor going around Blackstone that the CIA wants to sanitize this operation completely. You’re the only operator left alive. They may have taken out a contract on you.”
Jason was speechless for a moment. “Can you confirm that, John?”
“Can’t. There’s no way. But watch your back.”
Jason closed the connection on his Com, and turned to Maria.
“You’re not safe being with me,” he said. “I’ll give you money and you can stay with my sister in
“I want to stay with you…and, anyway aren’t you in more danger up there?” she asked, concern in her voice.
“I can’t run from the CIA…they’ll find me eventually. Don’t worry; you’ll be safe at my sister’s place. I should be back in a couple of days.”
The next day, Jason was on American 214, a direct flight from Miami International to Ronald Reagan airport in D.C. When he landed, he rented a Buick and drove to Blackstone headquarters in
Security guards scanned his Com and fingerprints and let him in the building. He went to John’s office on the third floor. John Webber had been his control officer the whole time he had been with Blackstone. Like Jason, John was a former Special Forces NCO. His boss was competent but cautious. Something you had to be to survive in D.C.
“I’m surprised to see you,” John said. “I thought you’d hide out in
“I figured I needed to see if I could fix this. I don’t like running from the good guys.”
John rubbed his beard, and cleaned his glasses. “Things are bad. President Taylor’s re-election is hanging by a thread. He doesn’t want to be tarred by the botched operation on Garcia. And, I was able to confirm what we talked about the other day. There is a contract out on you.”
“Damn, John; I can’t believe they’d do that.”
“I’m sorry. But there’s nothing I could do. This was decided 10 pay grades higher than me.” John rubbed his beard again. “But I will give you some advice. Cut your ties with Blackstone completely; don’t use any of our credit cards. Remove your Com unit; they may be able to trace you with it.” He opened a drawer, removed a large envelope, and pushed it across the desk. “However, I can help you with this. There’s several passports, fake IDs, an untraceable handgun and lots of cash. That’s as much as I can do for you. And don’t call me again; I think the CIA’s starting to monitor my calls. Good luck.”
He stuck out his hand and Jason shook it. They wouldn’t be seeing each other again.
Jason left the Buick in the parking lot and took a cab to Union Station,
The train trip was uneventful. Using the fake ID, he rented a
He drove straight through, stopping only for gas and food. Once in
When he got to her apartment, his sister gave him a big hug. He immediately covered her mouth and mouthed be quiet.
“Where’s Maria?” Jason whispered.
“Sleeping.”
“Get her up and pack her stuff,” he said very quietly. “We got to get out of here.”
His sister gave him a funny look. “What’s going on?” she whispered back. “I think I’ve been followed the last couple of days.”
“It’ll be safer if you don’t know. But I’ll be gone for a while. I love you, sis.”
Jason and Maria left
When he woke up, sunlight was streaming through the cheap curtains.
Maria was sitting up in the bed, watching a news show.
“What time is it?” he asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
“It is
They took a shower together and made love.
Later, they packed up the few things they had and prepared to leave.
Suddenly, Jason heard several vehicles drive up the gravel parking lot outside. He grabbed his gun and checked the load. Peering through the curtains, he saw three black SUVs. Men in dark suits, sunglasses and machine pistols surrounded the motel. Jason pushed Maria into the bathroom and told her to get on the floor.
There was no back door, no way out. Maybe he could talk his way out of this one.
“What do you guys want?” he yelled out through the motel window.
There was no answer.
Racking his brain, he couldn’t figure out how they’d found him so fast. He’d been extremely careful. Then something in his brain clicked. He looked at his handgun; the one John had given him. Damn. The tracking device must be inside it.
“Damn you, John!” he yelled, but it was drowned out by the fullisade of bullets streaming into the small, cheap motel room. They were the last sounds he heard.