Deckard walked across the freshly expended brass that rolled across the street.
“It’s for you,” the radio operator sitting in his assault truck said as he handed him the hand mic.
With Fedorchenko’s platoon on stand down to recover from their airborne operation and Aghassi and Nikita running recon, Deckard was out on a parallel operation with Sergeant Zhenis and Second Platoon. They were back in Oaxaca City, mowing grass and churning through their target deck. After a brief firefight, they had taken down another ring of contract killers.
“This is Six,” Deckard said over the command net.
“We have a problem.”
It was Frank.
“Our entire ring of informants is about to be liquidated. Spooky-One’s mission was a success and they are on exfil right now. The virus allowed us to tap into the cartel’s network but not in time to stop him. Jimenez had someone conduct a link analysis on all cellular traffic in Oaxaca.”
Deckard’s guts twisted in a knot.
“How bad is it?”
“We’re trying to establish that now while we reach out to as many of our sources as possible.”
Gun fire popped off somewhere deeper in the city. It was just a few shots, then a spray. Seconds later, the heavy bolt of a machine gun thumped on full auto coming from a different direction, each blast echoing across the city.
“Start giving me names and locations,” Deckard told him. “We’ll see how many we can pull out.”
As he listened to the gunfire, Deckard knew it was already too late.