Page 61 of Vaquero
Chapter Twenty-Four
“So I heard,” Sullivan groused. “Next time, keep your damned sat phone on your person, and I won’t have to rely on some Army Ranger for intel. Been trying to reach you for days.”
“There was no other choice, sir. Meg Duncan needed it to contact the Nightstalker pilot. Giving her my phone was instrumental in saving those children.”
“Yeah, I know.” Sullivan wasn’t happy. “Sergeant Jorgensen filled me in. How are she and the kids? Anything I need to know?”
“Just the usual. One child has tuberculosis and lower GI parasites. He’s being treated successfully. They’re all undernourished due to their captivity, but they’re eating better now, and the crew here has taken them and their caretakers to heart. They’re all happy.”
“You’re sure Zapata’s dead?”
“Yes,” Julio answered without hesitation. “The fuel he stockpiled ensured his and most of his army’s demise.”
“That when Jorgensen came to your assist?”
“And Meg. He sniped several soldiers, but she’s the one who launched a rocket into the tunnel where the last of Oz’s soldiers were holed up, guarding his gold. To be honest, I had my hands full. I was worried. There were many more guards in the tunnel than I expected. Without her help, I might not be alive.”
“But you took two hits, is that correct?”
It figured Charlie’d told Sullivan that. “They’re nothing, sir. Both near misses. Never slowed me down.”
“Where?”
Julio swallowed hard, not wanting to admit he’d been shot. “My arm. My thigh.”
“But you’ve been treated…” Sullivan let the implied threat behind those four innocuous sounding words hang.
Refusing needed medical care was a sure-fire way to get kicked off the SOBs. Sullivan didn’t waste his time on snowflakes or ego-maniacs. “Yes, sir. Meg applied first-aid the second she arrived on scene. Then the Corpsmen cleaned and sutured both scratches as soon as we boarded. I’m still able.”
“Scratches, my ass. So, she fired the rocket that saved your life, huh? Hmmm…” Sullivan paused. “Not the way Jorgensen tells it. The after-action report he filed with his CO, clearly attributes his fast thinking and expert shooting to catching Oz’s men in that crossfire. He said you were outmanned and outgunned when he showed. That without his expertise, you’d be dead.”
Which was only partially true. But totally expected. Julio’d pegged Charlie at first sight. Sergeant Jorgensen was one of those hard-charging soldiers who took credit for his team’s success. Probably carved notches on his bedpost, too. It was unfair that he’d slighted Meg, though. One of these days, Jorgensen’s fabrications would catch up with him. Just not today.
“I wouldn’t disagree,” Julio replied. “I was the SOB on site. I’d let his observation stand.”
Which meant it was better this way. Let CB hog the credit. The last thing any SOB operator needed was to be outed in an official report.
“But he lied,” Sullivan growled. “Not only on his written report, but on a secure line to me and Captain Dooley. The son of a bitch lied to both of us.”
Julio exhaled a full measured breath. “The system forces hard-chargers like Jorgensen to lie, sir. Once he’d sent his written version to his CO, he had to stand by it, especially with Dooley present. What does it matter? I don’t want recognition. Neither do you.”
“Copy that. Just wanted the straight dope, not some fabricated bullshit.” A full growl came over the line.
“But what Jorgensen didn’t know, sir. What he had no way to report...” Julio swallowed hard at what he still had to tell Sullivan. “I took a chopper down before he arrived. The Matryoshka Dolls, sir. They came to detonate the missiles. Had a Lightweight Laser Designator Rangefinder. I saw it. You may want to check with your Air Force friends. See if they can pin down who or what country’s aircraft was in geosynchronous orbit over Brazil during the past twenty-four hours.”
Dead silence rang in Julio’s ear.
“I took out the pilot and brought the bird down,” he assured his boss. “All aboard were neutralized. Brazil is safe.”
“Holy sssssshit!” Sullivan hissed. “Sec Def needs to know this.”
Julio nodded, though his boss couldn’t see him. The Matryoshka Dolls were not to be underestimated. They’d successfully infiltrated and robbed Bern, Switzerland’s famed electronic banking system, Suisse One. They’d gotten away with billions, then spat in the elite establishment’s face by robbing actual francs from inside Suisse One’s allegedly, one-hundred percent, secure vault.
Had to have been an inside job. But which one of the Dolls was brazen enough to accomplish the actual theft? Who was the mastermind behind the intricately coordinated plan that allowed, not only a daytime break-in, but the highly publicized robbery? To this day, no one knew who’d duped Suisse One, or who’d leaked the story of their supreme banking failure to the world’s major media outlets. That the Dolls were now involved in black market treasures like plutonium, spelled a world of hurt, not only for Brazil, but for every civilized country on earth.
“So... Meg, huh? She as good at keeping her mouth shut as you are?” Sullivan drawled.
“She knows this matter is classified, eyes-only, yes, sir.”
