Saturday, December 19, 2020

Weekend Special Short Tales; California 2.1 Chapter 6

 

6.

Lieutenant Diego smiled at the destruction. He saw the fire had spread to the coca farm and the air was heavy with the chemical content. He stepped to move back to assist Master Gunner. It was then he got shot in the left side of the head.

“I got you.” Sean released the smile on his face. “You blew six months of investigation works.”

Sean then turned on his back then. His eyes were bloodshot by the fumes from the burning of the farm and soon spread to the three levels of the curved structure. He heard the shouts and the acceleration of the vehicles as the occupants leave the place. He had taken the assignment to infiltrate the Cartel and was to get the needed intel when the words were sent to him that the army had sent death squads on him. He had to relook at his options and took the call to stop them before they exposed his assignment. And then he saw Master Gunner.

“Damn you, Master Gunner. You don’t know which target to shoot.”

The shot came close to Sean’s left side. The grass blades were blown high and landed on the side of Sean’s face. It was a warning shot. Or the ‘I am coming to get you’ shot.

Sen picked up the walkie talkie and adjusted the channel to the one that they used at training school.

“Master Gunner, it’s me, Sean. I know you are out there.” Sean whispered out. “We can..”

“It’s over, Sean. You walked into my area. You should have to stay out.” Stark replied. “I was good with it.”

“Master Gunner, you went rogue. They got me in from the Army to bring down the Cartel. I was doing fine.”

“You were an exception, Sean. You are good and killing those six officers was a good track.”

“Master Gunner, I did not kill them all. I did on the escape of the Cartel head but it was planned. I wounded the other officers. No one was killed. The others were done by the Army. It was all a setup to get me in.”

“It does not matter now. I am here to remove you. Michael will survive this. He has other farms to go to.” Stark replied. “You won’t. I will bury you here with the loss of my hotel.”

“Hotel California was yours? I never thought of it. I knew it was the Cartel operation center.”

“It’s and also where I placed the guys I hired to shoot for the Cartel. It’s my lair for snipers.” Stark replied. “You were here as I was told but I went stateside to settle some old matters. I told Michael to tone off my name. I did not want you to know just yet but you made a reputation for yourself. I wanted to come back to see my prodigal son but the DEA got me first. They requested I do the last task. And it was meaningful to me.’

“The DEA got you back? I am pissed. The officers I shot at the ambush were theirs. They must be pissed at me.” Sean laughed. “I knew you were the trainer of the snipers. I was told by one of them. I had offered to lead the last team out. I took my trail and saw you killed them. My task was to remove you.”

“Sean, I had to. They were hopeless at it. I had to use the diversion to break the team. I was to go alone but the Lieutenant wanted to tag along. I used the grenades to bring attention to the Lieutenant but he had the better of me with the Stingers. Too bad the Hotel will go but I will get you. You are …”

“Master Gunner, we can still go the right way. Come back with me. We can …”

“Sean, you may be able to but not me. I am passed the age to say I want to be right with them. I am doing what is right for me now. I got paid ten times more than my yearly pay from the Army. I have a retirement home at the Tropics. Another year of this and I am fully retired. I may have to do my last kill on you.”

“Master Gunner, we can still right the wrong.” Sean pleaded. It was then another voice came in.

“Puta to all of you. I will get you both if I have to burn all whole jungle.” Michael had listened in. “Stark, our deal is off. You and the boy of yours can go to Infierno (Hell for Spanish). I am sending all the snipers here for the two of you.”

In the office of his at Hotel California, Michael looked at the mixed nationalities with their preferred rifles.

“Six of you will hunt those two. Bring back their rifles to show me you shot them, and ten million American Dollars is yours.” Michael looked at the two Russians, one Cuban, and one Ghanaian, and the last two Columbian.

“Do me proud, or die,” Michael added in while he cradled the rifle of his own choice; the Dragunov sniper rifle at ten over pounds in weight with the twenty-four-inch barrel loaded with the ten rounds magazine of the 7.62 cartridges. The range of the rifle is eight hundred yards.

“You will be my spotter,” Michael called the communication officer at this officer. “We will be on the roof.”

“The rest of you go now.” Michael had then climbed up the stairs to the rooftop. He had donned the gas mask to avoid inhaling the chemical-laden smoke. He took to the edge of the roof and used his binoculars to seek the two snipers. He saw the coca farm was ablaze but the fire was blowing away from the structure.

“I can grow another farm any day,” Michael said. He then stepped to the M240 machine gun he had set up on the rooftop. The machine gun was belt-fed, that chambered the 7.62 cartridges, held a range of over four thousand yards but the effective range was at over a thousand yards.

“You will prove your worth later today.” Michael looked at the gun.

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