“I don’t have time for that, Will. I need to talk to you, in private, now. Can we meet at Johnny’s spot?”
“Johnny’s spot?”
“I’m leaving now; I’ll be waiting for you.”
“Alright, alright,” William groaned, “give me thirty minutes.”
Reese hung up the phone and walked to the bathroom. He washed his hands and face, and then stared blankly at the mirror. His blue eyes blazed back at him from the other side. Finally, he whispered, “He’s your only hope. You can kill William Galleani later, but tonight, he’s all you’ve got.”
***
Reese nervously scanned the shadows from the highest point he could find, Lee’s mansion. It had taken him nearly twenty minutes to travel the five short miles to Arlington cemetery. He had doubled back a dozen times to ensure no one was following him. Surely they would have considered that in his desperation he might contact William. He had told no one of the locations where their meetings occurred, not even his handler, but that brought him little comfort.
The cemetery was once again free of any interlopers. Countless crypts and monuments dotted the landscape. It had seemed so safe when he thought he was in control of the situation. Now, all he could see were the innumerable vantage points where someone could be waiting for him to step out of the shadows and into their crosshairs.
He continued to search the darkness for any adversaries until, finally, he saw William’s bike. He first spotted solitary headlight on the front of the Ducati Monster as it was crossing the Potomac. He hoped William would dim the light, or turn it off completely, but he never did. Reese reasoned that, between the successful attacks and a night of celebratory drinking, William was likely feeling unstoppable.
William guided the bike to the center of the plaza, just below Kennedy’s grave. He shut it off and casually strolled up the steps to the eternal flame. Reese watched as William reached into his jacket and retrieved something. He fumbled with the item for a moment before bringing it up to his mouth – his flask, of course; William was still celebrating.
William crouched down low and warmed his hands over the small fire, waiting for Reese to appear. Reese alternated between watching William, the cemetery and the bridge for several more minutes before finally crawling out from under the bushes and carefully making his way down the hill to the flame.
When William saw him, he raised both arms in victory. Reese was too far away yet to see, but he could imagine the sickening smile that William had on his face. As Reese reached the foot of the hill, William enthusiastically stepped forward to greet him.
“Excellent work, excellent work. You exceeded all expectations. I thought at least two or three of our devices would be discovered, but I was wrong. Your planning was flawless!”
Reese’s breathing and pulse quickened at the sound of William’s voice. He struggled to contain his rage. He exhaled long and slow, and then replied with a smile, “They never saw us coming, eh comrade?”
“Never indeed! Here have a drink.” William extended his flask to Reese; he accepted the gesture and took a deep gulp of the vodka. The strong libation helped to calm his nerves. Reese took a second gulp before handing it back.
“Now, comrade,” William continued, “what brings us here tonight?”
“I’ve decided I want to go to Texas, to help.”
“Relax, your job’s finished; you did well. I have capable people on the ground. They’re already helping our new friend’s team get everything into position. Why would you want to fly across the country now, after just the other day you were up in arms over a phone call?”
“Well,” Reese replied, “tonight was so – perfect. I believe it could be the tipping point. We’re on the cusp of something amazing William, can’t you feel it? You need someone in Houston that you know can deliver. I’ve thought about it and I want all in. Besides, do we really need a couple of your underlings from Texas handling such a sensitive operation?”
“I appreciate that, but things are moving so fast, I don’t know if you can even get there in time. We’re talking a matter of days.”
“How soon can I be on a plane? I want this, Will.”
“Alright, I can make some calls tomorrow morning. I can probably have you on a private plane by tomorrow night. I’ll let everyone know you‘re coming, but if something happens - we move without you. I can’t let anything screw this up. Is that fair enough?”
“Fair enough.”
“Good.” William smiled, “Now go get some rest, you’ll need it; the next few days’ll be a wild ride.”
“I’m sure they will. Thank you.”
William placed his hand on Reese’s shoulder for a moment as he smiled. Reese could feel his stomach turning in revulsion at the gesture. William turned and walked back down to his bike in the plaza. Reese watched as he rode away and slowly disappeared over the Potomac.
He turned in a slow circle and stared at the loneliness that surrounded him. He felt a strong sense of foreboding, as if a thick cloud of evil had enveloped him. He knew he could not return to his room for the night. He had no choice but to stay here. At least here, he would be surrounded by men whose loyalty was without question. He set off to the west, to the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier.
Ch apter 20
Barrett
South Padre Island
The armored vehicles had left Olympic Park in Matamoros less than thirty minutes ago. Soon, they would be in Port Isabel and then on to South Padre Island. There were nearly sixty of the ERC 90s. They were three-wide on the highway, and their convoy stretched for nearly a tenth of a mile. Each vehicle was armed with a 90 mm cannon and 7.62 mm machine guns.
As they left the urban confines of Brownsville, Texas, the terrain became open and sandy. They were surrounded by rivers, canals and lakes on both sides of Highway 48. The warm, night air felt good on the soldados’ faces as they rode on the tops and sides of the fast-moving, six-wheeled vehicles. Two-dozen tracked, armored personnel carriers, or APCs, followed several miles behind the swift-moving convoy. They would only be needed after the ERC 90s had finished shelling the island.
The Capitán Primero was anxious to engage the gringos. He had lobbied hard to leave Matamoros sooner, but the Z-G lieutenants had denied his requests. The cartels wanted to wait until the full force of the army was mobilized in Matamoros before proceeding. Despite his reservations about their decision, he obliged them; they were his jefes now. They paid much better than the government ever did, anyway. Besides, even if he had wanted to, it was not as if he could resign from his post.
As the convoy reached Queen Isabella Boulevard, three F-5 Tiger IIs screamed overhead in an echelon formation. Within a matter of moments they were over Padre Island. The lead jet unleashed both of his rocket pods simultaneously and battered the island with close to forty Hydra rockets. His two wingmen released their payloads of Mk 80 bombs. The island’s infrastructure was decimated.
As the jets performed a cross turn and headed back to the west, the soldiers in the ERC 90s could see tracer rounds from multiple locations on the island. The bullets flashed skyward in response to the attack.
The convoy proceeded east down the boulevard and stopped in the center of Port Isabel. Just ahead lay the long causeway that led to the guard’s redoubt. They aimed their cannons eastward and began to shell the island.
South Padre once again flashed bright from the light of the explosions. Buildings were erased from the horizon. A dark cloud of smoke hung heavy in the distance. With the aid of binoculars, a few peculiar looking units on the island could be seen mobilizing in groups and returning fire. Soon the counterattack dissipated. The soldados cheered enthusiastically at their overwhelming victory.