Exit Strategy. Don Pendleton

      “That explains the lack of rockets or grenades,” Manning mused. “They didn’t want us to roll a cart down to that end with sufficient explosives to take out a mob of defenders.”

      McCarter looked around.

      “What are you thinking, David?” Encizo asked.

      McCarter looked at the carts and their supplies. “Barb said she would contact me if the Nogales authorities were coming. I’m going to call them and make certain that things are still quiet. In the meantime, bring down kilos of coke.”

      Encizo grinned. “We going to have a Hollywood party?”

      “No, but the air will be thick with booger sugar on the other end,” McCarter said. “Can you make charges that can disperse it in a large cloud?”

      “Give me ten minutes,” Manning answered. “How high do you want them and how far away?”

      “Blurred to the gills,” McCarter ordered. “And as large a cloud as we can assemble. Just don’t have all of Nogales get hooked on cocaine.”

      Manning nodded and then he, Hawkins and Encizo, the three strongest members of the team, went back into the icehouse for the supplies for McCarter’s plan.

      “Cal, you’re with me. We’re going to see if the caballeros have any wheels for what we need,” McCarter instructed.

      The lanky team medic nodded but paused to pick up bags of ammunition and spare magazines. “Why make one extra trip? Besides, we might need some of this free ammo.”

      McCarter smirked. “Good idea.”

      The Phoenix commander also grabbed some of the contraband munitions in a pair of bags. Together, the Stony Man warriors climbed into the icehouse. As they moved toward the warehouse parking lot, they saw Manning carrying an oxygen tank. Neither of them had to doubt the purpose of that huge metal bottle. McCarter wanted to produce a wide-spreading cloud, and the oxygen inside the tank was under tremendous pressure. A good charge of explosives would crack the bottle and the ensuing burst of the tank would be catastrophic.

      Just the sort of element that a David McCarter plan usually hinged upon.

      “What are we looking for?” James asked.

      “At least a Ford F-350,” McCarter said. “Enough room for all of us in the cab, plus the horsepower to help us ram through the fence. If possible, something a bit smaller to help flanking maneuvers and avoid bunching all of us together in a fight or chase.”

      James indicated that he understood with a curt nod and split from McCarter.

      The British commando found the burly pickup he sought, little doubt that he would as Arizona and off-road-capable working trucks went hand in hand. He muttered over the throat mike to James, “It’s not shiny or new, but neither is it a rusted-out hulk. It should hold together, even under enemy fire.”

      “They do tend to be good at busting down blockades,” James returned.

      McCarter circled the truck before climbing inside. It had seen months since its last washing, but opening the door and hot wiring it showed that it had a full tank, a good battery, and its massive V-8 engine had a healthy roar.

      Across the lot, he heard James start the car he’d found.

      James spoke over the com set. “Got a Toyota RAV 4, not really a load-hauling engine of business, but it’s off-road capable. More of a SUV than the pickup you chose. Both vehicles can hold the full complement of the team, as well as weapons and other gear.”

      McCarter grunted in response. “The brute Ford will be first through the border fence and the Toyota would use its maneuverability to back it up. That way, we can flank and fake them out.”

      They parked the two side-by-side at the icehouse’s loading dock door.

      By the time they had gotten out, Encizo and Hawkins were there with more sacks full of loot and seized equipment.

      “We’re taking two trucks?” Encizo asked. He put his gear into the back of the Toyota.

      “Two is one and one is none,” Hawkins interjected. “Always good to have an extra.”

      “I can’t argue with that,” Encizo answered.

      “I also intend to have you be Cal’s gunner, just in case,” McCarter told Encizo. “T.J., you’ll be with me and Gary. Fit your carbine with a grenade launcher.”

      Hawkins gave an understated salute to the commander and left to retrieve his stubby assault rifle.

      McCarter then connected with the Farm. It was time to find out what Kurtzman’s cyber wizards had picked up as a response to Phoenix Force’s incursion into Mexico.

      “Price, here,” the Stony Man mission controller answered. “I take it you saw the response waiting for you in Nogales.”

      McCarter grinned. “We know there is some. And they’re ready for us to come through. I’d like specifics.”

      “I’m having Bear send satellite infrared and radar to your PDAs,” Price told him. “You doing a direct border breach?”

      “Like my countrymen sang back in the ‘80s, ‘it’s so fun being an illegal alien,’” McCarter answered.

      “The lyrics were ‘it’s no fun,’” Price corrected.

      McCarter’s smirk deepened. “Well, they play their tunes, I’ll play mine. The boys and I are going to ambush our ambushers. No chance that our border people will accidentally stumble into it?”

      “The Caballeros Cartel seems to have cleared everything on its side of the fence, as we’ve done for you. This isn’t a smuggling tunnel. It’s an arena,” Price explained. “You’re supposed to be the Christians and they are the lions.”

      “We’ve sold our cloaks for swords in that event,” McCarter said. “Granted, they’re in 4.6 mm, 5.56 mm and 7.62 mm, but they are swords.”

      “I’d prefer you had some 40 mm,” Price returned.

      “Cal and T.J. are fitting their M203s,” McCarter told her. “No grenades to replenish the supplies on the Arizona side, but we’ll see what we can scavenge over there.”

      “In that case, happy hunting,” Price concluded.

      McCarter could tell that Barbara Price wasn’t excited about the means by which Phoenix Force intended to circumvent the cartel’s ambush. The plan was going to involve a lot of explosions and a ton of gunfire.

      Even so, this was the bed the Caballeros de Durango had made for itself. McCarter, anticipating the possibility, had had Blancanales, Encizo and Hawkins, using Arizona and Texas Spanish accents, record messages while on the plane. The plan was simple. If the cartel and Accion Obrar hoped to make Stony Man look bad with a front-page splash of violence and terrorism on the border, the agency would throw up a smoke screen. The three Spanish-fluent Stony Man commandos would be portrayed as reconquistas: radical Mexican insurgents who wanted the southern border states added to their own.

      “We didn’t cross the border, the border crossed us!” and “¡Viva la raza!” peppered the recordings. There was also condemnation of the criminally complacent Mexican government and law enforcement.

      It was a simple ruse, but intricate enough to obfuscate the presence of the American covert agency in this mission. Just as the packets of cocaine and the oxygen bottle would provide a blinding haze, so would the messages to news agencies. The press, however, would receive their high from the juicy weight of the incident.

      * * *

      HUNDREDS OF MILES AWAY, on the streets of Yuma, Arizona, Rosario Blancanales maneuvered into position with his toolbox full of warfare. The earbud, hands-free communicator he wore was invisible, and even if it were noticed, his salt-and-pepper hair was light enough to allow him to