after being forced to dig deep and find the courage to survive when it seemed there was nothing left, combat veterans shared a bond that few others understood. Hadn’t he and Matthew experienced the same thing?
Although he had respected Matthew’s wishes two years ago, he had carried an emptiness inside ever since.
“Can I make a suggestion, Dave?” Maria said.
Despite his mood, Kendall offered a weak smile, “Do I have any choice?”
Maria smiled back and playfully smacked him on the arm. “Invite him to dinner,” she said. “I’d like to see him again too.” She put her hand on his. “I don’t think I can ever thank him enough for what he did.”
“Neither can I,” the president responded. “Neither can I.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Richter glanced around the room, gauging his men. Standing around a scale model of the militia compound, each wore the serious expressions of a warrior preparing himself for battle.
“Does everybody know their job?” he asked then waited until he saw heads nod. “I know I’ve said this before, but I’m going to say it again. These guys may not be as disciplined as a regular military unit, but they are heavily armed. We need to do this right. We need to maintain the element of surprise. We need to hit them hard and fast. We each need to cover our positions. And we need to be prepared for the unexpected. Things can change very quickly in a firefight.” He paused and looked at each man once more. “Anyone have any questions?”
There was a chorus of head shakes.
“Okay, we go in as one and we come out as one.”
This was met with several grunts. The meeting broke up and the men walked off to check their gear. Richter followed them into the locker room.
Thirty minutes later, when his gear was ready and he was showered and changed, he saw Agent Kevin Reardon slipping on a suit coat. Most of the other guys were wearing jeans. He walked over.
“Where are you off to, Kevin?”
Reardon sighed. “A wake. Kid I used to coach in little league baseball was killed; shot to death.”
Richter frowned. “What happened?”
“Apparently, he got mixed up in drugs.” Reardon shook his head like he still couldn’t believe it. “I thought the kid was too smart for that.”
“I’m sorry, Kevin. Where was this?”
“Trenton.” Reardon shook his head again. “I know his folks. They’re good people. I can’t figure out how this could have happened.” He grabbed his bag, slipping the strap over his shoulder. He gestured with his head back to the briefing room and the scale model. “I know these guys are bad, but when are we going to start focusing on some of these drug dealers? Christ! Kids are dying out there!”
Richter put his hand on Reardon’s shoulder. “That’s DEA territory. We have enough on our plate as it is.”
Reardon nodded. “I know. I know. I’m just venting, boss.”
Richter studied him a moment. “You okay for tomorrow?”
Reardon’s face hardened. “I’m ready, boss.”
Richter nodded. I hope so , he thought.
___
Guerrero smiled when he saw the message; a confirmation from the bank that the wire transfer had been received. That meant that the third shipment had arrived. Currently, he knew, it was being broken down, separated into smaller loads. It would soon find its way north.
It had taken a long time and a lot of planning, but his efforts were now paying off. Although at first he had been wary, smuggling was a way of life for his new partners. Guns, people, drugs—it didn’t matter what the contraband was—the African warlords were proving to be reliable, savvy businessmen. His first two shipments had already found their way up to Italy and to Spain, to markets willing to pay twice as much as los gringos . His third shipment had just arrived safely in Sierra Leone. If it continued to go well, he might eventually ship a full ocean container. It was proving to be an easy and low-cost way to move the product, and the European market
Although he had respected Matthew’s wishes two years ago, he had carried an emptiness inside ever since.
“Can I make a suggestion, Dave?” Maria said.
Despite his mood, Kendall offered a weak smile, “Do I have any choice?”
Maria smiled back and playfully smacked him on the arm. “Invite him to dinner,” she said. “I’d like to see him again too.” She put her hand on his. “I don’t think I can ever thank him enough for what he did.”
“Neither can I,” the president responded. “Neither can I.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Richter glanced around the room, gauging his men. Standing around a scale model of the militia compound, each wore the serious expressions of a warrior preparing himself for battle.
“Does everybody know their job?” he asked then waited until he saw heads nod. “I know I’ve said this before, but I’m going to say it again. These guys may not be as disciplined as a regular military unit, but they are heavily armed. We need to do this right. We need to maintain the element of surprise. We need to hit them hard and fast. We each need to cover our positions. And we need to be prepared for the unexpected. Things can change very quickly in a firefight.” He paused and looked at each man once more. “Anyone have any questions?”
There was a chorus of head shakes.
“Okay, we go in as one and we come out as one.”
This was met with several grunts. The meeting broke up and the men walked off to check their gear. Richter followed them into the locker room.
Thirty minutes later, when his gear was ready and he was showered and changed, he saw Agent Kevin Reardon slipping on a suit coat. Most of the other guys were wearing jeans. He walked over.
“Where are you off to, Kevin?”
Reardon sighed. “A wake. Kid I used to coach in little league baseball was killed; shot to death.”
Richter frowned. “What happened?”
“Apparently, he got mixed up in drugs.” Reardon shook his head like he still couldn’t believe it. “I thought the kid was too smart for that.”
“I’m sorry, Kevin. Where was this?”
“Trenton.” Reardon shook his head again. “I know his folks. They’re good people. I can’t figure out how this could have happened.” He grabbed his bag, slipping the strap over his shoulder. He gestured with his head back to the briefing room and the scale model. “I know these guys are bad, but when are we going to start focusing on some of these drug dealers? Christ! Kids are dying out there!”
Richter put his hand on Reardon’s shoulder. “That’s DEA territory. We have enough on our plate as it is.”
Reardon nodded. “I know. I know. I’m just venting, boss.”
Richter studied him a moment. “You okay for tomorrow?”
Reardon’s face hardened. “I’m ready, boss.”
Richter nodded. I hope so , he thought.
___
Guerrero smiled when he saw the message; a confirmation from the bank that the wire transfer had been received. That meant that the third shipment had arrived. Currently, he knew, it was being broken down, separated into smaller loads. It would soon find its way north.
It had taken a long time and a lot of planning, but his efforts were now paying off. Although at first he had been wary, smuggling was a way of life for his new partners. Guns, people, drugs—it didn’t matter what the contraband was—the African warlords were proving to be reliable, savvy businessmen. His first two shipments had already found their way up to Italy and to Spain, to markets willing to pay twice as much as los gringos . His third shipment had just arrived safely in Sierra Leone. If it continued to go well, he might eventually ship a full ocean container. It was proving to be an easy and low-cost way to move the product, and the European market
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