Book 2: Episode 24

Pacific Command

Joint Base Hickam Pearl Harbor, Hawaii

“AN ASSET WILL BE ASSIGNED?  WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN AN ASSET!?!”

“Sir, I mean that we will ask to have someone assigned to us and they will report back.”

The Admiral sat back down, trying to calm himself.  It wasn’t this child’s fault that they had no idea what was going on in Mexico.  By the look on his face, he had never made an actual decision in his life.  “Lieutenant…  McKenzie, is it?”  The hapless Lieutenant nodded, beginning to understand the hole he was in.  “You are sitting in Pacific Command.  Pacific Command is the premier command of the US military.  Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Pacific Command does not ask for things.  Pacific Command issues commands and subordinate commands take action.  This is the way Pacific Command works.”

“Yes, sir.”

The leader of Red Team, Commander Lee, took pity on the junior officer.  “Admiral, if I may.  I think what the Lieutenant was trying to say is that since Mexico is part of Northern Command that we would liaise with Northern Command and thus gain the intelligence we wanted.  Isn’t that correct Lieutenant?”

“Sir, YES SIR!”

“Very well, please reach out to Northern Command J2 and we can get a SEAL team out of San Diego assigned.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Dismissed.”

Lee gave the Admiral a crooked grin and continued the meeting to discuss the unusual People’s Liberation Army (PLA) movements.  They had seen large formations gathering up into groups as if going on deployment and then simply dispersing.  This could mean a readiness exercise, but it wasn’t normal.  Anything that the PLA did out of the ordinary was a concern for Pacific Command and thus for the newly reconstituted Red Team.  According to the Chinese government, only a couple thousand troops had been assigned to a peacekeeping mission, not the huge numbers that they saw moving around, preparing to deploy.  However, these movements along with the activity in Mexico had caused the team to issue a red alert up the food chain.  Oddly, that alert had been met by complete silence.  A concerning outcome for Lee and The Admiral.

Hours later, the phone rang.  “Admiral Lensten for you sir.”

The Admiral picked up the phone, noting it was a secure line.  “Bill, how are you this fine day?”

“I’m fine, sir, thank you.  Did you ask for a SEAL team to investigate PLA activities in Mexico?”

“Yes, I certainly did.  Very concerning activity over in China, I don’t like the look of this.”

“I agree, sir.  Just so you know, your request will be denied.”

“Denied?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Any idea why that is?”

“The Joint Chiefs have decided that we have been provoking Mexico with our illegal activities within their country and we should stay on our side of the border, exclusively.  Northern Command has been given a stand down order.”

“Did command actually use the term ‘illegal’?”

“Yes sir.  We have also been informed that our intel on Chinese activity within Mexico is incorrect and alert levels have been reduced across the board.”  Lensten paused, considering how much trouble he would be in if he continued.  “We have also lost track of the Russians the CIA captured.  Admiral, I’m very concerned about what is happening.  The administration has fired the Air Force Chief of Staff and he was the only one speaking out about the new isolationist policies.”  Lenston sighed, clearly disturbed by these events.  “Sir, any advice for me?”

“Pray we’re both wrong about what’s happening.”

After hanging up with Lensten, The Admiral filled Commander Lee in on the conversation.  Lee was silent.  Shaken by the turn of events.  “Do I have to tell you what I think this means?”

“Do you mean that the Chinese and/or Russians have been playing a game with us, have likely suborned our civilian leadership by stroking their massive egos?”

“Pretty much, yes.”

“But that’s not the worst case, is it Lee?”

“No, sir.”

“No, the worst case is that we have decided as a country to turn our backs on the rest of the world in a manner predicted by those same actors, and those actors are now going to take military action previously not possible due to the strength of the US military and our allies.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And this was the plan all along.”

“It looks that way from here.”

“But the Chinese and the Russians playing ball?  When did they ever do that?”

“When did it serve both their interests before?”

“So, worst case?”

“Worst case the Chinese get California and the Russians get Alaska.”

“What about Mexico?”

“The Chinese and/or Russians already control Mexico.”

“We don’t know that.”  He slammed his fist on the table.  “DAMMIT!  We just have to find a way.  If they court martial me, so be it.”

The commander was silent for several minutes.  As an intelligence specialist, he had worked closely with the special operations community.  Because of the nature of their missions, the Special Operations Aviation Regiment (SOAR) was quite close to other intelligence units.  In fact, despite some well documented inter-agency rivalries, the CIA, Special Operations and military intelligence communities were all quite close due to many years of operating together in places like Afghanistan.

“Sir, I may know someone who can help.”

The Admiral stared at Commander Lee for a moment.  “Are you sure you want to do this?  I’m not in your chain of command anymore.  Pacific Command will go ape shit if they find out.”  Although The Admiral didn’t know who Lee had in mind, any sort of communications outside the chain of command was extremely dangerous.

Lee grimaced.  A security violation like this, especially going outside of his chain of command could end his career.  Does my career matter if this is what we are afraid it is?  “Sir, I happen to know that 160th SOAR is on TDY to Luke.”  The fact that the 160th was on temporary duty to Luke Air Force base in Arizona was not something that he should know, but a friend was a major there and they had discussed the situation in Mexico the day before.  “It’s only about 300 miles from Luke to the area outside of Hermosillo where those F-35s were attacked.”

“Can you make a call?”

“Yes, sir.”

Fifteen minutes later, Lee was on a secure video call with Major Watkins of 160th SOAR.  “Trevor, thanks for taking my call.”

“No problem, Eugene, what’s up?”

“I think this has to be off the books, Trevor.”

“It’s like that, is it?”

“I’m afraid so.”

Watkins rubbed his face in his hands.  “OK, this thing is going to shit anyway, what’s one more shitty thing today?”

“Why, what’s happened?”

“Oh, the mission I was supporting to get one of your pilots out of Mexico just went pear shaped.”  Watkins picked up a piece of paper and read from it.  “’Subject X-RAY is currently seconded to the Mexican Navy and is unwilling to comply with our recall order.  We have forwarded this to command for clarification.’  I mean, what the actual fuck?”

“Wait, there is a Naval Aviator in Mexico?  On the ground?”

“Yeah, we were supposed to do a snatch and grab on her; there is an advanced team on the ground there now.”

“Wait, her?”

“Yeah.  What are you a chauvinist?  You guys have lady pilots these days, you know?”

“Yes, but there aren’t that many female fighter pilots.  If one was missing, I would have heard about it.  Hell, if we were missing any birds I would know.”

Watkins looked at another document.  “Not a fighter pilot, a P-8 pilot.”

“What?  We aren’t missing any P-8s either.”

“Says here she was attached to the embassy.”

“Oh fuck.  It’s Ping Pong.”

“What?  Oh, yeah.  It says that’s her call sign.”

Lee picked up a phone, he didn’t have to ask SOAR for a favor anymore, they were already ordered to do what they wanted anyway.  “Admiral?  You’re not going to believe this.  Do you remember that P-8 pilot we met during the congressional hearing?  Yes, the woman.  Remember that she married the captain of the Kidd?  Yes, I saw the movie also.  Yes, sir, well, do you want to guess where she is right now?”

Book 2: Episode 23

CIA Safe House Charlie Foxtrot

Tucson, AZ

Peters was as drunk as he ever got.  He wasn’t sure why the CIA safe house had a full bar, but upon discovering an almost full bottle of Bulleit bourbon on the shelf, he decided that the fates were trying to tell him something. 

Park walked into the room.  “Jesus Christ Peters, are you drunk?”

“Hell yeah, I am drunk as shit.”

Park picked up the empty bottle.  “Did you drink the whole bottle?”

“I dunno, but that shit looks empty.”

“Look, Peters do you remember the Red Team, from the last war?”

“No, who the hell are they?”

“They are the guys who figured out what the Chinese were doing during the last war.”

“Why the fuck should I care about that?”

Park tossed a thick folder on the table.  “Because they think that the Chinese are going to launch an invasion of the USA from Mexico.”

“Wait, what?  Why should I care about this shit?”

“We’re going to go back to Mexico and find out what is going on.”

“We have orders to go into Mexico?”

“Well, no, we don’t.  We have orders to stand down.”

“The fuck?”

Park sat down at the table.  Picked up the bottle and examined it.  Still empty.  Sighing, he went over to the bar, picked up a glass and put an ice cube in it.  Scanning the bottles on the shelf, he picked out a bottle of Angel’s Envy and came back to the table.  Sitting down again, he poured himself two fingers of bourbon. 

“Gimme some of that.”

Park gave Peters a disgusted look.  “You’ve had enough.”

“I’m just getting started.”

“That’s what worries me.”Park looked into Peters’ eyes.  “Can you function?  Can I count on you?”

“Fuck.  It takes more than a little bourbon to knock me off my game.”

“Look, there is a Naval Aviator in Mexico.  A reserve officer.  She was an embassy dependent but didn’t get out with the rest.  NSA has tracked her to a house in Sonora.”  Park picked up a map, flipped it open and pointed to a red X.  “Right there.  We’re going to go get her.”

Peters, becoming interested, looked at the map.  “What are those sites there?”

Park smiled.  “Those are the SAM sites the F-35s attacked last week.”

Peters smiled.  “Those two are less than fifty miles from the house.”

“Yeah, I noticed that.”  He picked up the map.  “Sober up, get your shit together.  We’re driving down in two hours.”

“What, we’re just going to drive down there?”

“Yeah.  Why not?”

It was a six-hour drive from Tucson to the little beach town of Bahia Kino in Sonora.  About an hour west of Hermosillo, it was one of those small Mexican fishing villages with million-dollar homes in a narrow strip along the beach and tumble-down shacks right across the street.  The long drive had given Peters plenty of time to sober up and he also slept for three hours.  Now he was just hung over and cranky.

Driving down Mar de Cortez Avenue, they drove past a series of more and more expensive houses on the beach side.  Coming to the one they were looking for, there was a HMMWV with the word “Marinas” on the side and an M2 machine gun on top.  The uniformed officer on duty in front of the house looked alert and was wearing a helmet and body armor over his camo uniform. 

Park kept driving.  The civilian Ford Expedition they were driving had Arizona plates but otherwise didn’t stand out on the street.  “What do you think?”

Peters thought for a moment.  “To be honest, I’m glad it’s the Marines instead of the Army.  I trust those guys more.”

“Do you think we can name drop?”

“Probably.  It’s a small force.  They may know Bustamante.”

“Let’s try it.”

They pulled a U-turn and slowly drove up to the house.  Pulling into the short driveway, Park rolled down his window.  Peters put his hands on the dashboard.  “Buenos Dias!  We are friends of Bustamante.  We are wondering if you could reach him for us.”

A uniformed marine in body armor and armed with a Mexican-made FX-05 came up to the car.  “Don Bustamante is not at home, señor.  Please move your vehicle.”

“I wasn’t aware that Commander Bustamante lived here.  We are asking if you can contact him.  We have a message.”

“And you are?”

“It’s Park and Peters. He knows us.”

“Un momento, por favor.”

The marine retreated a few steps and made a call on his radio.  After a few moments, the radio crackled a response and he gestured for the marines inside to open the very serious looking steel gate.  “Please park on the right, señor.”

Pulling into the compound, they were astounded to see Commander Bustamante standing on the front stairs, dressed in civilian clothes.

“Ah, my favorite CIA operatives!  To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“We are here at the request of the State Department.”

“I see.”  Bustamante had an almost mischievous grin on his face, like he knew a secret the other two did not.  “And what is this request?”

“May we speak to Captain Harris please?”

“I’m sorry, I know no such person.”

“We know she is here.  Can we speak to her?”

“There is no Captain Harris here.”

Park was getting angry.  “Look, let us talk to her or we will be back, with friends.”

Bustamante smiled again, without the humor.  “It’s good to have friends.  I have many friends.”

Peters rolled his eyes.  He had no interest in this type of dick contest that so many military men seemed to enjoy.  Apparently, the CIA wasn’t immune either.  He went back into the SUV and pulled open the operation file.  He had met a few aviators in his day and half of them wouldn’t answer to their given name.  What was her call sign?  Ah, yes.

He went back to the front steps and let out his best parade ground bellow.  “PING PONG!!  FRONT AND CENTER!”

The door opened and Ping Pong walked down the stairs to stand next to Bustamante.  “Who the fuck are you two?”

Peters saluted and handed her a document.  “Captain Peters, US Army ma’am.  You have been recalled to service.”

She glanced at the document with a grimace.  “And you found me, how?”

“Cell phone, ma’am.”

“Right.”  She glanced at Bustamante.  “Do you mind if they come in?”

“Certainly señora, this is your home for as long as you care to stay here.”

As they entered the mansion, the ocean came into breathtaking view.  Ping Pong led them into a large room with a huge glass wall facing the ocean.  Couches and chairs were scattered about the room which was bathed in light from the afternoon sun.

“So, what is this really about?”

Park feigned a hurt look.  “We are here to retrieve a US service member trapped in Mexico.”

Ping Pong gestured around her.  “I’m not exactly in prison.”  She picked up her phone.  “No messages.  You could have called or texted me.”

“You could have been compromised.”

“Uh huh.”

Bustamante smiled again.  A complex man, he had many smiles.  This one was the “Let’s cut the shit” one.  “Gentlemen.  I think we can all agree that the farce has gone on long enough.  Tell us why you are here or you can leave.  As you can see, Ping Pong is in no danger here, I have an entire platoon guarding the building.  My uncle owns this house and is close friends with the local police chief.  I can assure you she is perfectly safe here.”

Park was about to answer when Peters put a hand on his arm.  “Bustamante, why are you not in uniform?”

“I am on administrative leave.”

“And may I ask why you have been placed on leave?”

“For filing a false engagement report.”

“And this was the report on our last engagement with you?”

“Si.”

“And this report stated that the Russians had infiltrated northern Sonora?”

“Si.”

“Commander, the US military has been issued a stand down order.  We have been told that there are no foreign troops in your country.”

“Please tell me you are joking.”

Park shook his head.  “No, he’s not joking.”  He shook his head.  “I cannot believe that I’m telling you this, but your government may be compromised.”

Bustamante put his head in his hands, suddenly very serious.  “That’s what Admiral Rodriguez said.  He told me the Army was compromised.”

Park nodded.  “Well, it looks like we may be in the same predicament.  My government has also lost its mind.  Just a moment.”  Retrieving the briefing papers from their vehicle, Park proceeded to fill Ping Pong and Bustamante in on what they knew. 

“So, we propose to surveil a couple of these sites, and see what evidence we can find.”

Bustamante nodded.  “Simple enough, I will have vehicles brought to the house.”

Park pointed at Ping Pong.  “And how do we get her back to the states?”

Ping Pong turned red in the face.  “You don’t, mister.  I’m going with you.”

Peters snorted.  “Ma’am, this could go wrong quickly.  Not like flying your P-8.”

She turned a steely gaze on Peters.  “And what is your MOS, soldier?”

“Eighteen Alpha, ma’am.”

“Special forces, of course.”

“Green beret.  On loan to the CIA at the moment, but yeah.”

Bustamante smiled again.  This one was the “We are going to do this” smile.  “This is easy enough.  She has been seconded to my command.  The US Navy and Mexican Navy have an excellent exchange program.”

“And when did this happen?”

“As soon as I call Admiral Rodriguez.  He is close personal friends with the US Chief of Naval Operations.”

“Right.”

Ping Pong smiled.  Hers was simpler.  Ping Pong wasn’t a complex person.  All she really wanted to do was to kick the ass of the people who had hurt her husband.  “You do realize I am senior to you, commander?”