“Initiating master check list,” McCreary said to Baldo.
“Roger.”
“Pressure control?”
“Check.” Baldo replied, looking at sensor readings on another computer screen.
“Heart rate?”
“Check. Nominal.”
“Rebreather?”
“Check.”
“HMD visor?”
“Check.”
“AR Targeting?”
“Check.”
“Weapons? Engage carbine.” Ghost One pulled the lever on his MP10.
“Locked and loaded.” Baldo replied.
“SCIROC?” McCreary continued.
“Operational.”
“ACS?”
“NREM sleep. Stage three. Nominal.”
“Activate.”
Baldo typed in a command. Rendering Ghost One invisible. A revolutionary nanotechnology created the optical camouflage effect. Conceived by Boeing’s Future Combat Systems, it was ultimately developed by DARPA and Bae Systems under the SOCOM banner. Armor plating around the backpack protected the computer brains of the stealth systems. Including the GPS-aided optical camouflage — only one of the suit’s stealth components. The stealth capability had its limitations, thus allowing for ops only in suitable conditions.
“Beacon to Ghost One, proceed to target.”
A flashing dot labeled “El Lobo” appeared on Ghost One’s visor HMD. He jogged down the hill toward the tall perimeter wall around the villa.
“Paco’s packin’ a Stoner!” Douglas said. Seeing the Hispanic guard at the back gate over Ghost One’s helmet cam. An American-made Stoner 63, light submachine gun, slung over his shoulder.
“Thank Operation Fast & Furious,” Baldo said.
Douglas shook his head in disgust. “Please tell him to smoke that bitch,” he said to McCreary.
“Flash secondary target,” McCreary said, and Baldo typed the command that appeared in Ghost One’s HMD over the guard. “Beacon to Ghost One, eliminate secondary target.”
Ghost One eyed his target from a distance through the scope on his MP10. Firing a single quiet bullet through his suppressor. Dispatching the guard.
“That’s what I’m talkin’ about!” Douglas exclaimed.
“Keep it down,” McCreary ordered. Knowing Trest was hearing and seeing everything.
“Yes, sir.” Douglas obeyed.
McCreary gave the next order to Ghost One. “Penetrate the perimeter.”
Ghost One scanned the large gate that was the height of the wall. He placed a hand on it to scale it, and it moved — pushing open. Ghost One eased it open and slowly breached the backyard. Suddenly startled by footsteps to his left. He raised his carbine and saw a giant cat in a cage looking right at him. A black panther.
“How can it see him?” Baldo asked.
“Make a note of it,” McCreary replied.
The panther paced back and forth, keeping an eye on him as Ghost One entered the back door of the villa.
“Proceed to the back bedroom,” McCreary ordered.
A 3D image of the villa blueprints appeared on a screen. Ghost One saw the same thing in augmented reality through his visor. A 3D map toward where they believed El Lobo would be at this time of night. Fast asleep.
Ghost One passed a dark kitchen. The dining room light was on. A guard ate dinner, watching a Mexican TV show on a small flat-screen. A Colt 45 was on the table next to his plate of bistec, rice and beans. Ghost One kept moving. Down the hall. He passed waist-high trophy cases. High end ones like from a museum or jewelry store.
“What the—” Douglas and the others saw the trophy cases and what they contained — a collection of rare, antique pistols. Placards featured the name of the pistol and the previous owner. “Pancho Villa” labeled one antique revolver. There were several 9mm’s with solid-gold hand grips. Some hand grips were molded with the initials of the owner, others featured Catholic saints, and one had a pair of scorpions on the handle. There was even a solid gold AK-47. Ghost One looked up. Hearing a couple voices at the end of the hall. Guards talking. McCreary and the others saw them too. All thinking the same thing… How to kill both without the other making a noise?
The solution came to McCreary. He immediately relayed it to Ghost One. “Head shots. Both targets. NOW!”
Ghost One raised his weapon. At this range it was an easy shot. He hit the first one in the temple. Just as the second looked to were the muzzle flash came from, he took one between the eyes. Their falling bodies making more noise than the gunshots.
“Conceal the bodies,” McCreary ordered. Knowing he couldn’t leave them right in the hallway. “Drag them to the next room.”
Ghost One grabbed the first man and dragged him to the door of a room across the hall. He opened it. Standing face to face with shelves of currency in plastic bags. Floor to ceiling.
“Holy shit” came over the bone phone. “Next room!”
Ghost One dragged the body to an adjacent bathroom and left him inside. He did the same with the other guard, putting their rifles on top of them. He proceeded to the target bedroom and opened the door. It was an opulent bedroom straight out of a Manhattan millionaire’s bachelor pad. Elevated bed with a massive canopy. A polar bear rug in front of a lit fireplace. A mini bar off to the side. Massive flat-screen TV over the fireplace. Guns were in the corners and on nightstands, along with drugs in plain view. Cocaine on a mirror by the night stand and an opened kilo-bag on the dresser. The bed was empty. No sign of El Lobo.
“Where is he?” Baldo asked.
“Thermal scan,” McCreary said to Baldo.
Ghost One looked from one side of the room to the other and his helmet cam displayed a thermal view to the guys in the box. A faint glow appeared further away on the other side of the wall. “He’s in the closet?” Baldo asked.
“Ghost One, proceed to closet.”
Ghost One opened the door to the walk-in closet. Entering, weapon raised. He saw a crack of light between suits on hangars. A hidden door. He pressed it, opening up an expansive cave-like room. A large grotto with a swimming pool. The thermal view showed the heat source, much larger, on the far side of the room.
The helmet cam feed turned to night vision in the box. “There. He’s in a hot tub in the back,” McCreary said.
“What is this place?” Douglas asked.
“It’s a real man-cave. With stalagmites and everything.” Baldo said.
“Tites.” McCreary corrected him. “Stalagmites rise up. Stalactites hang down.”
Ghost One carefully maneuvered around the large stalactites. Using them for cover. Inching his way toward the man in the hot tub with his back to Ghost One.
“Proceed. Get visual confirmation of target.”
“Why can’t he just shoot him from here?” Douglas asked.
“We can’t see his face,” McCreary responded. “We don’t know it’s El Lobo. We need kill confirm from his helmet cam.”
Ghost One slowly approached the lone man in the hot tub. He pulled a flap on his thigh that concealed a sleek, black Ka-bar BK7 tactical fixed-blade knife. He removed the knife, slowly stalking toward the drug lord. Just as he lunged in for the kill, a woman burst up from underwater between the legs of El Lobo. Ghost One slashed El Lobo’s throat. His limp head fell backward, recorded by the helmet cam.
“And we have confirmation,” Baldo said. Disgusted, Douglas looked away from the screen. McCreary watched the woman in the hot tub. The soaking wet prostitute screamed. Shrieking her lungs out. Ghost One returned the bloody knife to its sheath. Closing the suit flap over his thigh.