screens, each one depicting different information. Three screens were monitoring the perimeter cameras outside the gym. One displayed the view from a government satellite set to monitor South America, specifically a well-known Columbian drug lord’s estate and base of operations. The other screens showed various other images, including one from a small camera strapped to the helmet of Clint Paxton, former-CIA operative and resident kickboxing champ.
Tucker slipped on a headset and threw a similar one at Rick. “Paxton, I’ve got Ricochet here.”
“Pax, what’ve you got?” Rick never used his snarky nicknames on the job, only the ones that the men used in their official capacity. He studied the sat map while the mercenary filled him in.
“Mission completed, on my way back to the helo for extraction. The bridge that’s supposed to be over the river is gone. You’re familiar with this god-forsaken jungle, Rick. Where can I cross this thing?”
“Okay Pax, hang tight. Give me a minute to check your coordinates.”
Rick swiped the topographical map that had been pulled up on a secure touchscreen computer on Tucker’s desk, scrolling so he could see the entire area at once. Tucker read off Pax’s coordinates for him.
“I found your position, Pax.” Rick traced a finger further down the river on the map. “Tucker, where’s the pick up site?”
The wiry man leaned into Rick’s side so he could point at the spot, a small clearing just north of where Clint was waiting.
“Pax, there’s a small rope bridge two klicks west of your position. Head there and you can cross.” Rick showed Tucker the exact location so he could put the coordinates into the nav system that would guide the field operative to the bridge.
“You sure about that bridge Rick? Cuz I gotta tell you, there ain’t shit out here in this sweaty, malaria-filled hellhole.” Rick could hear the man’s steady breathing as he cut his way through the dense jungle.
“Yeah, I’m sure. I helped build it.”
“Well… Okay then. We’re on our way.”
“I’m tracking you and Xavier, Pax,” Tucker said. “No hostiles in sight.”
“Gotcha Tucker. Going silent. We’ll radio if we need you. Just make sure the helo is where it’s supposed to be.”
“Not a problem, helo to arrive at ten hundred hours. That gives you sixteen minutes to rendezvous,” Tucker explained. He flipped a switch and the loud noise of helicopter rotors filled their headsets. “Eagle One, be on the ground at pre-designated location at ten hundred hours.”
“Roger, Mission Command.” The pilot’s voice crackled through the speaker.
Rick and Tucker held their breath as they watched Clint’s camera jostle and bounce through the thick Columbian jungle.
“There!” Rick said, pointing at the screen. “That’s the rope bridge. Shit, I’m glad it’s still intact.”
Tucker turned to Rick, his face a mask of incredulity. “You weren’t sure if it was still there?”
Rick shrugged. “It’s been a few years. It is rope you know. Not exactly long lasting material.”
“Jesus, you’re such an asshole,” Tucker huffed.
“I’m over the bridge. Xav is behind me,” Pax said. “I can hear the helo approaching. By the way Ricochet, when I get back I’m going to kick the shit outta you. Rope bridge my ass! What bullshit. That thing was fucking falling apart. We’re lucky we didn’t fall into the fucking river.”
“Be good, Pax. See ya next week.”
“Deuces.” The communication clicked off.
Rick grinned as he pulled off the headset and dropped it onto the desk. “Another successful mission.”
Tucker gaped at him. “You better hope he’s not in Mission Control on your next op. He’ll send your ass over a cliff or some shit just to get revenge.”
“Nah, he loves me.” Rick’s laugh could be heard all the way down the hall, even once the thick security door closed behind him.
Rick strode into the break room to get some coffee, his smile
Tucker slipped on a headset and threw a similar one at Rick. “Paxton, I’ve got Ricochet here.”
“Pax, what’ve you got?” Rick never used his snarky nicknames on the job, only the ones that the men used in their official capacity. He studied the sat map while the mercenary filled him in.
“Mission completed, on my way back to the helo for extraction. The bridge that’s supposed to be over the river is gone. You’re familiar with this god-forsaken jungle, Rick. Where can I cross this thing?”
“Okay Pax, hang tight. Give me a minute to check your coordinates.”
Rick swiped the topographical map that had been pulled up on a secure touchscreen computer on Tucker’s desk, scrolling so he could see the entire area at once. Tucker read off Pax’s coordinates for him.
“I found your position, Pax.” Rick traced a finger further down the river on the map. “Tucker, where’s the pick up site?”
The wiry man leaned into Rick’s side so he could point at the spot, a small clearing just north of where Clint was waiting.
“Pax, there’s a small rope bridge two klicks west of your position. Head there and you can cross.” Rick showed Tucker the exact location so he could put the coordinates into the nav system that would guide the field operative to the bridge.
“You sure about that bridge Rick? Cuz I gotta tell you, there ain’t shit out here in this sweaty, malaria-filled hellhole.” Rick could hear the man’s steady breathing as he cut his way through the dense jungle.
“Yeah, I’m sure. I helped build it.”
“Well… Okay then. We’re on our way.”
“I’m tracking you and Xavier, Pax,” Tucker said. “No hostiles in sight.”
“Gotcha Tucker. Going silent. We’ll radio if we need you. Just make sure the helo is where it’s supposed to be.”
“Not a problem, helo to arrive at ten hundred hours. That gives you sixteen minutes to rendezvous,” Tucker explained. He flipped a switch and the loud noise of helicopter rotors filled their headsets. “Eagle One, be on the ground at pre-designated location at ten hundred hours.”
“Roger, Mission Command.” The pilot’s voice crackled through the speaker.
Rick and Tucker held their breath as they watched Clint’s camera jostle and bounce through the thick Columbian jungle.
“There!” Rick said, pointing at the screen. “That’s the rope bridge. Shit, I’m glad it’s still intact.”
Tucker turned to Rick, his face a mask of incredulity. “You weren’t sure if it was still there?”
Rick shrugged. “It’s been a few years. It is rope you know. Not exactly long lasting material.”
“Jesus, you’re such an asshole,” Tucker huffed.
“I’m over the bridge. Xav is behind me,” Pax said. “I can hear the helo approaching. By the way Ricochet, when I get back I’m going to kick the shit outta you. Rope bridge my ass! What bullshit. That thing was fucking falling apart. We’re lucky we didn’t fall into the fucking river.”
“Be good, Pax. See ya next week.”
“Deuces.” The communication clicked off.
Rick grinned as he pulled off the headset and dropped it onto the desk. “Another successful mission.”
Tucker gaped at him. “You better hope he’s not in Mission Control on your next op. He’ll send your ass over a cliff or some shit just to get revenge.”
“Nah, he loves me.” Rick’s laugh could be heard all the way down the hall, even once the thick security door closed behind him.
Rick strode into the break room to get some coffee, his smile
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