Page 2 of Vaquero
As for poor sweet Tomas? Julio swiped at the bitterness stinging the corners of his eyes. He hadn’t been able to save his son, either. The two people in the world he treasured most were gone. In the end, Zapata had taken everything. Even Tomas’ will to live.
The breeze off the ocean was stiff once Julio crested the berm, and at last, the dazzling Pacific stretched wide and long, deep and turquoise-blue ahead of him. He could almost feel its tender, cold embrace wrapping around him. Holding him down. His greatest fear at this pivotal point in time was that he’d struggle when the final moment came. That his body’s natural instinct to survive would kick in and sabotage everything. That he’d be forced to live without Bianca and Tomas.
Like his wife, Julio needed the pain to end. His soul begged for relief. Julio steeled his courage. It must not fail in this, his final endeavor.
An old man tottered along the shore at Julio’s left while a black dog scampered into the waves, chasing sandpipers or fish. Julio no longer cared what the man saw or who the dog belonged with. He truly cared about so few things these days. Now that Paloma was in Pagan’s good hands, he had one less reason to worry or live.
With one hand, he tugged his shirt over his head, tossed it to the sand, and began jogging along the shore. That way the old man and the dog wouldn’t think it suspicious when he dove into the surf. They might think he was crazy. They might try to rescue him. But by then, Julio’s powerful strokes would’ve taken him beyond their reach. He was an excellent swimmer. Every SEAL, even the ones who rang out, knew how to swim. He’d give it his best until he tired, then he’d roll onto his back and float. He’d close his eyes and pray, until the Pacific took him under the way it had taken Bianca.
He was deep in the shallows when a buzz in his rear pocket told him he had an incoming call. Julio’s heart kicked an odd beat and a half. He stopped short of the beckoning waves. “No,” he told himself with conviction. “It’s too late. I’m not answering.”
But yes. His dutiful fingers had already maneuvered the cell into his palm, and…
Okay, fine. One last call. This won’t take long.
“Hello?” he asked, as he turned aside from the breeze to better hear his caller.
“McQueen here. Got a minute?” Sullivan asked, as in Senator McQueen Sullivan, the force behind the darkest black ops team in the United States. Sullivan was a devil in his own right.
Julio let his gaze scan the distant western horizon where Bianca waited and whispered,‘Come with me. I’m waiting.’“Actually, sir, I’m in the middle of something important. Can I call you back?”
“No,” McQueen bit out, his cheery Texas twang gone, and his I-am-the-boss, do-you-want-a-piece-of-me persona radiating loud, clear, and nasty over the connection.
Automatically, Julio snapped to attention. His shoulders squared. His gut sucked in like it had been trained to. His brain cleared enough that his mouth replied, “Yes, sir. What can I do for you?”
“I’ve got trouble in Brazil. A former Army corporal. Duncan’s his name. Runs an orphanage. Claims he and his kids need immediate evac. Didn’t ask why, because I don’t care when kids are involved. Can you do it or not?” Sullivan might make it sound like a question, but Julio knew an order when he heard one.
“But sir, isn’t thatDia de Muertosterritory?”
Like theSin Boys, theDia de Muertoswere another of McQueen’s deep, dark, black ops teams. He managed several. The Sinclairs handled terrorist troubles in the Middle East. TheLone Wolves,a covert team of former Army Rangers known to frequent the inner workings of Russia and China, operated out of central Wyoming.The Panthers, an elusive group of former CIA agents, worked deep in the Everglades, as well as both Atlantic and Gulf sides of the Florida panhandle. Former FBI agents, who’d seen too much and felt like they’d done too little, comprised TheNight Shadows. They resolved American terrorist issues in general, from sea to shining sea.
But the grief caused by South American despots and tyrants, belonged to the deadlyDia de Muertos,headquartered out of New Mexico. Comprised of an elite team of three former USA border guards, they were the ones who should handle this assignment. Not a guy on his way to meet his dead wife, who even now called to him with a hushed but persuasive, nearly irresistible,‘Come, Julio. Please, come to me. Join me. I’ve missed you.’
“No go, Juarez,” McQueen replied tersely. “Lost two of those agents last night. Firefight outside of Tegucigalpa, Honduras. I’m in trouble. I need you.”
Julio’s heart sank at the thought of his brothers’ deaths. “Which agents, sir?”
“Diego and Seb. Santiago’s bringing their bodies home today. They’ll be at Dover before nightfall, and I’ll meet them there. Can you do it or not, damn it? This is urgent. I can’t wait.”
This was another unexpected blow. A loss for the world, not just the States. Julio had known Diego Cortez and Sebastian Torres from his Navy days. They hadn’t rung out, and had gone on to become decorated SEALs. Diego signed up to work for Sullivan as team leader of the ruthlessDia de Muertos. “But I work directly for the President, sir. Have you cleared it with—”
“Yes, Goddamnit. President Adams is on board. Did you hear what I said? Kids are involved. Orphans, damn it. The world’s lost enough of its next generation. Are you with me or not?”
Julio cast one last longing look toward the ocean.
“Talk to me, Juarez. Someone’s got to replace Diego. I need an answer, ASAP.”
“You want me to leadDia de Muertos?”Unbelievable.“Now?”When I have nothing to live for?“Why me?”
“Yes, now, damn it. Because more than any man on this team, I trust you. Sign up with me once and for all. Be the leader I know you are. Say yes.”
Julio could actually hear McQueen’s fingertips drumming his desk over the line.
“No,” he replied evenly. He didn’t want anything but out of the highly secret, super-covert world. Not only no, but Hell no. He’d lost too much already. He was done with too much death and not enough family.
Only now that he thought about it... Kids were involved? Orphans? Innocents like Tomas?
Julio glanced one last time at the Pacific with its cold, endless embrace. Bianca wasn’t really out there, was she? The only part left of the beautiful body he’d had cremated, according to her last wishes, were ashes. Even those he’d let loose on the outgoing tide of a different shore of this same ocean. The mighty Pacific had done what it did best. It’d diluted her earthly remains and dispersed what was left, so far and so wide not a trace could ever be found.
