The Watchman of Ephraim (Book Club Edition) (27 page)

Again, all Santappia heard was a single calm voice, “Roger that.”

Less than ten seconds later, three more shots rang out from their M-40’s dropping three more gunmen, all on the boat that had circled to the stern of
Santana
. Unable to see their adversaries, the remaining three on that boat panicked and immediately laid down their weapons, shouting in Spanish, “We give up!”

As soon as Santappia stepped out from the cabin he saw the sole bad guy left on the other boat take off like a bat out of hell into the darkness. Santappia took aim with his AA-12 but the boat quickly motored out of his range.

“
Angel one … Angel three, one bogey took off heading in your direction.”

“
Angel three, roger…”

A few tense moments later one shot rang out then another from Angel three’s … De May’s M-40.

“
Angel three, bogey’s down.”

While Santappia held his shotgun pointed at them, Captain Golden helped the three Pacifico cartel members onto
Santana,
from their speed boat. As soon as they were on board, the Captain frisked them, and then ordered them in Spanish to sit on the deck, with their hands on their heads. One of
Santana’s
crew jumped aboard the speed boat and lowered its anchor while two others collected the weapons aboard it. A few minutes later, out of the darkness came the three jet skis with Riggy, De May and Pescalitis riding them, their sniper rifles slung on their backs.

As soon as everyone was aboard, Santappia walked over to the leader who was just coming around. He was bleeding badly from a shoulder wound. Pescalitis checked the other two that were lying next to the leader.

“
They’re both dead.” Pescalitis confirmed then pointing at the leader, “Hey Riggy wasn’t this one yours?”

Riggy’s face turned red from embarrassment, “Yeah, a wave pushed my ski just as I took my shot.”

De May and Pescalitis grinned to tease Angel 2 but Santappia spoke up, “Better that your aim was off Rigs. Now we can get ‘Mr. Tats’ here to tell his boss that he and his hombres did their job and we’re all dead … isn’t that right hombre?”

The leader didn’t reply.

Pescalitis walked up to him then started waving his hand in front of his nose, “He stinks of booze!”

“
I’m afraid that’s my fault,” David Nicholls replied a bit immodestly. “You see he was shooting at me and the Captain, and I still had the bottle of that fine scotch in my hand—“

“…
and I have to thank you for that Mr. Nicholls,” Captain Golden interrupted then turned to Pescalitis and the others. “Mr. Nicholls could have had a career in baseball with the way he tossed that bottle of scotch. I mean he hit our friend here from twenty feet away … hard enough to knock him senseless and he wasn’t even pitching from the windup!”

Pescalitis patted Nicholls on his back as Santappia handed his shotgun to Riggy. Then he took out his MPK-Ti
¹⁷
and put it to the throat of the leader, as he bent down and whispered into his ear.

“
You have two choices, my friend. You can either do exactly as I tell you and get on your radio and tell your boss that you did your job and we’re all dead … or I’ll throw you overboard and let your blood attract every shark within three miles of here.”

The leader spat into Santappia’s face.

Santappia wiped the spit from his face with his sleeve. Then he lifted the leader up by his hair, dragged him to the railing and as the man spewed curses in Spanish, threw him over the side. The wounded man flopped around in the pitch-dark trying his best to keep his head above the water line.

Santappia casually walked over to the other three men who were now all sitting in shock from hearing their leader screaming for help. He put his knife to one of the men’s throat. The man pleaded in Spanish.

Santappia turned to the Captain.

“
What’s he saying?”

The Captain nodded towards the man in the water.

“
He’s begging you to pull him out of the water before the sharks get him.”

The screams from the man in the water stopped as the swells began to roll over his head. Santappia sheaved his knife and ordered De May and Pescalitis to bring the drowning man back aboard. After giving him a minute to vomit the salt water from his lungs, Santappia put his knife back to the leader’s throat.

“
That was just the rehearsal of your death, amigo. The next time I throw you overboard, you become sharks bait and I simply have one of your men here make the radio call. It would be better coming from you, though… better for us and better for you. You decide.”

The leader looked up at Santappia with a combination of pain and anger on his face then nodded his head in defeat.

Santappia sheaved his knife again and stood up.

“
De May take our friend here and let him make the call from the radio on their boat. Captain, would you please accompany them and make sure he says what we want him to say … not a word more or less, you comprende, amigo?”

The man nodded again.

After the leader sent the message, Santappia kept everyone busy. First he had the four cartel members brought below. There weren’t many areas on
Santana
that weren’t created for comfort, so they ended up placing all of the men, bound, in the utility room. That is, after they bandaged the leader’s shoulder. It turned out that Riggy’s bullet passed right through his shoulder making the wound easier to treat.

The Captain ordered his crew to clean the blood from
Santana’s
deck, while Santappia had De May and Pescalitis fasten the bodies of the dead men inside the anchored boat. Then De May blew several holes in her hull with the AA-12. Next, Santappia had the Captain locate the second speedboat and bring
Santana
abeam so De May could fasten the body that was aboard her and blew holes in her hull. Each boat disappeared from view in a matter of minutes.

It was after 3:00 a.m. when ARCHANGEL finally took off from
Santana
on the EC-135, and around 4:30 a.m. when they landed near the drug farm, but the rest of the operation went easier. They landed the chopper about two kilometers from the farm’s perimeter, their landing zone concealed by foothills. Then they made their way by foot to Garcia’s position. The tattooed leader on the boat must have been convincing because there was only two guards within a mile of their position and both were sleeping. They dug up the body of Agent Garcia, confirming their worst fears. Santappia took the phone from the dead agent’s pocket and turned it off for the last time, shutting down its transponder beacon – a signal to everyone back in the States that they found him, then De May threw the body over his shoulder and they headed back to the chopper.

Dawn was breaking as they flew back to
Santana
. Once back aboard, Santappia asked Red Golden to get underway, best speed, for
Santana’s
home in Newport Beach. Once they were heading north, Santappia contacted De Niro and Mugsy Ricci so that he could fill them in. The five day journey back gave both men ample time to make preparations. Ricci made a few phone calls to have the cartel members placed into custody as soon as they made port. He asked Michelle Wang to contact her friends at Homeland so that no questions would be asked as to where they came from. Meanwhile, De Niro had two SUV’s waiting for ARCHANGEL, one carrying a special refrigerated coffin so that they could drive themselves and the body of Agent Garcia back to the Coyote’s Den. Once there, they hoped an autopsy on Jesus Garcia could deliver the agent’s last report for him.

Chapter 25

The Coyote's Den

Estancia De Niro, Henderson, NV

9:30a.m., Wednesday, July 27, 2011

De Niro thought of everything when he designed the Coyote’s Den, including a fully stocked infirmary. It was intended to be used to provide medical treatment for the proposed black ops force that was to be stationed there. Though, circumstances dictated that in its first use it was needed for a solemn purpose … as a morgue.

Ricci hadn’t had time to hire permanent medical personnel but he knew in a pinch that he could rely on his friend Woody, aka Sergeant Ray “Woody” Woods to perform the autopsy on Agent Garcia. Mugsy first met Woods when he was a Special Forces Medical Sergeant stationed in Iraq. Sgt. Woods had saved then Lieutenant Ricci’s life after Ricci was wounded in a fierce firefight while on patrol against insurgents in Ramadi. Since then, Mugsy and Woody remained in contact. A few years ago, Ricci finally had been able to reciprocate by helping Woods get assigned stateside after his wife had complained about his extended tours of duty, overseas. Woods was grateful to Mugsy for possibly saving his marriage. There was very little either man wouldn’t do for the other.

Ricci tracked down Woods to his home in Smithtown, New York. He was on leave and just about to go fishing off of Montauk Point with his son and daughter when he received the call from his old lieutenant. Mugsy offered him first-class roundtrip airfare to Las Vegas and an all-paid vacation for him, his wife and two kids, in return for a favor. Woods never even asked what the favor was. He told Mugsy he didn’t need the vacation for his family, just the first-class roundtrip tickets and he was there.

Sgt. Woods had arrived in the Coyote’s Den at eight that morning. It was only a little past 9:30 a.m. when he walked out of the examination room. De Niro, Mugsy, Santappia and the three ARCHANGEL members gathered around him. Ricci spoke first.

“
That didn’t take long.”

Woods removed his surgical gloves and tossed them into a trashcan.

“
Well, it didn’t take long to see that Agent Garcia died from two 9mm bullet wounds to his head, entry points within an inch of each other just above his right eye. What I was more interested in was what I didn’t see … namely, powder residue anywhere around the wounds or on the body.”

Santappia: “Meaning he was shot from long distance?”

“
No, Agent Garcia was definitely shot at close range. Listen, I don’t consider myself ‘Quincy M.D.’ but from my years of treating bullet wounds I can tell you this … judging from the damage made by the bullets and by the amount of blood and brain matter that I found inside the plastic they wrapped him in …Agent Garcia was shot at close range by a 9mm pistol, my guess … virtually right on top of the plastic.”

Ricci: “What about the lack of powder residue?”

“
I’ve been thinking about that and I can only give you my guess. One of the pistol ranges that I practice at is in the basement of a small hunting and fishing store on Long Island. The store owner makes us all use suppressors to keep the noise down. Anyway, one of the things we came to find using suppressors was that there was no powder residue left on our close quarter targets.”

Ricci: “So Woody, you’re saying that, in your opinion, Agent Garcia was shot twice in the head at close range with a suppressed 9mm pistol.”

“
Exactly Mugs … I’d also guess that he was taken by surprise because there were no other signs of struggle on his body.”

Ricci: “So execution-style …”

The men began to talk among themselves as Woods stepped away to wash his hands. De Niro followed him.

“
I’d like to thank you for helping us out with this, Sergeant, especially considering the confidential nature of it … and I understand you had to cancel a fishing trip to Montauk Point with your kids?”

“
Not a problem Mr. De Niro, anything for Mugsy. Besides, if I get home by tonight, I can still take my kids fishing.”

“
From what my brother-in-law told me, you took care of him pretty good over in Iraq.”

Woods smiled.

“
Yeah, he came in all shot up. Within a month there wasn’t a nurse around that he hadn’t hit on.”

Both men chuckled.

“
Sergeant—“

“
Call me Woody, Mr. De Niro. Even my wife calls me Woody.”

“
Okay Woody, I’m Cris. Woody, would you consider coming to work for us here?”