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Four Knot SUVs wait by the curb to take us to the airport. The operatives with me are quiet during the short ride. I’m not surprised. We’re not giving them much time to acclimate.
The crew loads into the sixteen-passenger Gulfstream for the four-hour flight. The plane isn’t big enough for all of Knot’s people to be evacuated, but we’ll worry about that later. After takeoff, I study the faces of the new operatives. The ink hasn’t dried on their contracts yet, and here they are. Normally, we’d have at least three weeks of training before deploying the first time, but these guys will face trial-by-fire.
Piper rests calmly at my feet as I activate our meeting screen. Within seconds, the tactical support room and Knot’s indomitable face fill the display. “We’ve received contact from Jones. He’s bottled up inside the mouth of the canyon. He’s lost two men and has two critical. They can’t move downriver. All he can do is defend his position until you get there.”
Various sounds of frustration come from the men and women joining us from the different military branches. They’re used to calling for air support in situations like this, where air strikes clear the way for a safe evacuation. Well, we’re the only air support they’ll get, and we’re more than three hours away.
The flight is agonizingly long, knowing men I’ve trained are biding their time, praying we make it before they’re all dead.
It’s dark when we land outside the small border town of Lajitas, Texas. Border patrol waits for us on the ground with Knot’s chopper crew. Sector Chief Bronson greets me when we step off the plane. “I’ve taken the liberty and modified your bird,” he says, gesturing to the Bell. “I put a fifty cal in her, figuring you’d need it.”
I don’t comment about him drilling holes in a twelve-million-dollar aircraft because he’s probably right. Sifting through the new teams’ backgrounds, I recall one of them being a gunner’s mate in the Navy. “Freeman, you’ll stay with the bird on the fifty in case we need backup.”
The Californian nods. “The rest of you, team up. No one moves without a wingman.”
The team loads up while I check in with Knot one last time. Piper trots off to relieve herself but doesn’t stray far. “What’s the current situation?” I asked my boss and friend.
“We’ve lost another heartbeat.”
“Fuck. How close have the hostiles advanced?”
“Less than fifty yards separates them. Jones found a defendable position and has been conserving ammo, but they’re running out of time.”
“Patch into the helo. We’ll push the guerrillas back with a fifty-cal mounted to the deck. You’ll have to guide us in.”
“Copy. Good luck.”
I turn and run to the waiting chopper, which lifts off as soon as my ass hits the seat. The co-pilot hands me a helmet, and Knot’s voice is already coming through the speaker when I slam it down on my head. Piper’s ear protection goes on next. Knot’s instructions come through loud and clear to me and the pilots. “You’re two minutes out. It won’t matter if they hear you coming, so don’t hide. Just stay below the radar deck. We’ll line you up on your target.”
Less than two minutes later, Freeman has blown through an entire belt of ammunition, scattering the cartel members back up to the canyon’s entrance. Speaking into the mic, I direct the pilot, “Get us as close as you can. We’ll rope down. Stay close and be ready for rescue operations.”
I snap on Piper’s Kevlar vest and explain her role, telling her to watch. She’s not to engage but only to alert me to surprises. Turning to Freeman and the others, I pick someone else to stay behind and help him fish our people from the canyon. Ranier Bledsoe is a medic, so she gets the job.
The rest of us fast-rope to the bottom of the canyon just north of where Jones and his remaining crew are holed up. I’m the last to go with Piper strapped to my chest. The bird lifts away once we’re all on the ground, and I bark out orders for the five sharpshooters to set watch toward the canyon’s entry.
As soon as I unclip Piper, she drops her head and quietly growls toward the recess in the cliff face. Jones limps out of the shadows, and Piper relaxes, recognizing him. The team leader hobbles down to greet me, having been in contact with Knot about our arrival. “How bad?” I ask.
“Three dead. Two critical but stable.” Jones stares off into the darkness and sighs. “We should all be dead. They wouldn’t answer our mayday… fuck.”
Jones doesn’t finish, but he doesn’t have to. He’s pissed that Border Patrol wouldn’t, or more accurately, couldn’t violate Mexican airspace to provide air support that would have spared our peoples’ lives. Our freelance model means we fall outside the US military’s strict operational guidelines, but it also means we fall outside their protection. We’re self-governing and well-paid, but we’re expendable.
“You direct the extraction of your injured, and we’ll guard the canyon since the gunner on the chopper will be occupied.”
Jones grunts and turns to rejoin his team. When the man stumbles, I turn on a light and scan the length of him. Blood covers his right leg. “Shit.”
I catch the man before he falls and help him to the ground. Additional familiar faces come out of hiding: some limping and some being carried. Once the wounded are stretched on the river bank, I instruct two rookies to return to the cliff face with two of the men from Jones’s team to collect the dead. We won’t leave anyone behind.
“Rescue One to Base, we’re ready to extract. What’s our status?”
“You’ve got vehicles bringing additional hostiles. Get your asses out of there,” Knot orders.
Reece, the helo pilot is still patched in and responds, “We spotted a plain on the cliffs big enough to use for a secondary evac site. Since we’re short on time, we’ll have to use ropes and tandem lift the injured and fallen and place them there. Once everyone is out of the canyon, we’ll take the injured to the airfield first. The rest of you will be safe enough until we get back.”
I green-light Reece’s plan and signal to my guys who have brought down the rest of Jones’s team. Piper hasn’t moved an inch from my side.
Fifteen minutes into the extraction, we have company. Thankfully, the group being secured to the helo’s ropes is the last of Jones’s crew. Two of my guys lay down suppression fire to cover the current extraction, and they soon lift off.
The answering gunfire pinging off the cliff walls, I expected. I’m about to radio Freeman to rain down hell on his return until I hear the signature thunk of a grenade launcher. Oh shit! “Everybody, down!”
