A bridge too far, p.1
A Bridge Too Far, page 1
A BRIDGE TOO FAR
THE PHOENIX CHRONICLES
BOOK 6
R.J. PATTERSON
CONTENTS
Also by R.J. Patterson
A Bridge Too Far
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Also by R.J. Patterson
About the Author
A Bridge Too Far
© Copyright 2022 R.J. Patterson
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law.
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
First edition 2022
Published in the United States of America
Green E-Books
PO Box 140654
Boise, ID 83714
PRAISE FOR R.J. PATTERSON
“You can tell R.J. knows what it’s like to live in the newspaper world, but with Dead Shot, he’s proven that he also can write one heck of a murder mystery.”
- Josh Katzowitz,
NFL writer for CBSSports.com
& author of Sid Gillman: Father of the Passing Game
“Small town life in southern Idaho might seem quaint and idyllic to some. But when local newspaper reporter Cal Murphy begins to uncover a series of strange deaths that are linked to a sticky spider web of deception, the lid on the peaceful town is blown wide open. Told with all the energy and bravado of an old pro, first-timer R.J. Patterson hits one out of the park his first time at bat with Dead Shot. It’s that good.”
-Vincent Zandri, bestselling author of THE REMAINS
“In Dead in the Water, R.J. Patterson accurately captures the action-packed saga of a what could be a real-life college football scandal. The sordid details will leave readers flipping through the pages as fast as a hurry-up offense.”
- Mark Schlabach,
ESPN college sports columnist and
co-author of Called to Coach
Heisman: The Man Behind the Trophy
ALSO BY R.J. PATTERSON
TITUS BLACK SERIES
Behind Enemy Lines
Game of Shadows
Rogue Commander
Line of Fire
Blowback
Honorable Lies
Power Play
State of Conspiracy
The Patriot
The President’s Man
The Haitian Assassin
Codename: Killshot
Chaos Theory
BRADY HAWK SERIES
First Strike
Deep Cover
Point of Impact
Full Blast
Target Zero
Fury
State of Play
Seige
Seek and Destroy
Into the Shadows
Hard Target
No Way Out
Two Minutes to Midnight
Against All Odds
Any Means Necessary
Vengeance
Code Red
A Deadly Force
Divide and Conquer
Extreme Measures
Final Strike
THE PHOENIX CHRONICLES
The Shadow Hunter
The Reaper
Covert Invasion
The Cobbler
The Widowmaker
A Bridge Too Far
A Silent Attack
A BRIDGE TOO FAR
For Ken and Creston,
Two great writers, two great men
CHAPTER ONE
GUANAJUATO, MEXICO
Brady Hawk studied a photograph of Caleb Hunter and wondered how much he’d changed since it was taken four years ago. His thick brown hair was a mess, cropped just above his eyebrows and swept slightly to the right. Tonight, Caleb was the focal point of Hawk’s mission, the culmination of a long quest to bring home the son of Roy Hunter, the east Texas oil baron.
“Any movement around the compound?” Alex asked over the coms.
Hawk sat up in in his seat, snapped back to the present by his wife’s calm voice. He was parked along the curb, which was lined with cars on both sides of the street. “Nothing yet. Still pretty quiet around here.”
From the safety of his vehicle, he scanned the street again, confirming what he’d just said.
“You know we didn’t have to take this assignment, right?” Alex said.
“I know, but Roy Hunter was a close friend of Blunt’s—and I hope someone would do the same for us if, god forbid, we ever found ourselves in a similar situation.”
J.D. Blunt, the former Phoenix Foundation director who’d hired both Hawk and Alex, had long since retired. But his personal requests still carried sway with the two agents, especially when it was made on behalf of a long-time family friend.
“I have a hard time telling Blunt no, too,” she admitted. “He did so much for both of us.”
Hawk wanted to help Blunt’s friend, but that wasn’t the only reason. Caleb Hunter reminded Hawk of his own son, John Daniel. Hawk’s disheveled son had almost as many bumps and bruises as he did freckles, a fact the little guy was proud of. He sought out Band-Aids as if they were badges of honor, souvenirs of battles fought and mostly won. And the more dirt he could wallow in, the better.
Hawk couldn’t imagine what lengths he’d go to if John Daniel went missing, whether it was in a week or in ten years. A father couldn’t be prouder of his son than Hawk was of John Daniel. And the idea that another man could be begging for help to retrieve his son stirred something in Hawk, rattling him to the core. There was no way he was going to let down Roy Hunter, even if he was just a famous face.
Despite the quiet nature of the street, Hawk kept looking, scanning the area in front of the gate to the facility that purportedly housed Caleb. Hawk’s doubt began to grow, wondering if the tip wasn’t as credible as the Hunter family believed it was. According to Roy Hunter, the place was a hive of activity, importing and exporting people almost daily. But Hawk hadn’t even seen a single person approach the gate, much less go inside.
“There has to be another entrance,” Hawk said over the coms after a few minutes had passed. “If there’s any truth to this intel we received, whoever is running this operation can’t do it solely inside the walls of that compound.”
“And what are you going to do about it?”
“I’d like to get a closer look.”
“Honey, what did we decide about how to handle this op before we left the hotel?” she asked.
“We watch and wait, only moving when opportunity arises.”
“That’s right,” she said. “And what has happened in the past ten minutes that’s made you think you not only need a closer look but that you should abandon our agreement?”
Hawk was glad Alex wasn’t there to see him grin so wryly. “Does impatience count?”
“Absolutely not. I know this isn’t your first stakeout.”
“It’s my first in Mexico. Does that count? Am I allowed to be impatient because of that?”
“Don’t get out of that car,” she warned.
“What makes you think I’m doing that?”
“Because I’m watching you on the satellite feed. You’re literally walking toward the compound wall right this moment.”
“Sometimes you have to force the action,” he said.
She growled loudly, causing him to remove his earbud for a moment.
“Wow,” Hawk said. “I think I might be deaf now.”
“Turn around and go back to your car right now,” she said. “You’re going to make things worse if they catch you—or even worse if they discover what you’re doing there.”
“I can handle myself,” Hawk said, speaking in a hushed tone. “Besides, we can’t stay here all night. Eventually, someone’s going to see me sitting out here and it’ll make the situation worse.”
“Worse than banging on the gates?”
“I guess we’re about to find out just how bad it can get.”
Alex broke into a diatribe, lecturing her husband about the dangers of charging into a situation headlong without giving it much thought. Hawk figured she should record the speech and just put it on repeat whenever these situations arose. Not that he would listen. Alex was the cautious type in comparison, the nurturing mother concerned about what life might be like raising a child on her own. Hawk rushed headlong into danger, always wondering what life would be like if he didn’t interfere. Together, they struck a unique balance that seemed to work—most of the time.
“So help me, if you don’t get back in that car—”
“Alex, I see something,” he said in a hushed tone as he peered through a crack in the fence.
“You see Caleb?”
“I can’t be sure, but I see a handful of teenagers hustling across the courtyard. They’re jumping into the back of a box truck.”
“What else?” she asked, pausing her lecture.
“They’ve all got guns.”
“Guns? What the hell? I thought this was a trafficking ring?”
“Apparently not, unless they’ve decided to arm the young men they’re trafficking,” Hawk said. “I’m not sure that would make much sense.”
“No, this sounds like something else entirely.”
“There’s no doubt about that. But just not sure what at this point.”
A pulley mechanism hummed as the gate started to open. Hawk spun and walked down the street casually as if he was just passing by. But a man stepped onto the sidewalk and started shouting.
“Cuál es tu problema, amigo?”
Hawk kept walking, ignoring the man as if he didn’t hear him.
“Oye! Estoy hablando contigo!”
Hawk continued ambling along—until the man fired a shot that whistled overhead.
Acting on instinct, Hawk dove behind one of the nearby vehicles and stayed low. He waited a few seconds before peering around the front fender of the truck next to him.
“Y no vuelvas, amigo,” the man called again before retreating inside the compound.
Hawk sprinted to his car and got inside. “Oh, I’m definitely coming back,” he said aloud.
Seconds later, a box truck tore out of the compound.
“What’s going on?” Alex asked.
“Some goon started shooting at me,” Hawk said. “But the truck with all the boys in it just left—and I’m following it.”
“Don’t say I didn’t I warn you that going over the gate was a bad idea,” she said.
“I got them out there, didn’t I?” he said. “Kind of like stirring up a hornet’s nest. They’re much easier to handle when they’re out of the nest and mad as opposed to safely hidden away.”
Hawk whipped his car around and began pursuing the truck, his tires squealing with every sharp turn.
“I always found it easier to handle them in other ways.”
“Such as?”
“Shooting the nest, for example.”
“Isn’t that a little bit of an overkill?”
“It gets the job done. And isn’t that what it’s all about?”
Alex had made a fair point, but Hawk stood firm in his decision to rattle the leaders of the compound. Tailing them would only draw further anger.
And that’s exactly what Hawk was going for.
The truck took a quick right and then entered one of Guanajuato’s arched one-way tunnels, an adapted relic from when the often-flooded city used them to funnel water away from the city. Now, they served as important thoroughfares, often tight and low, and included walkways that allowed pedestrians to cross them.
Sparks flew as the edge of the truck’s roof brushed against the wall. Hawk stayed within a car’s length of the truck as he maintained his pursuit.
“I’m losing you. I think—” Alex said before her voice cut out.
Hawk was flying blind, but he didn’t have any trouble keeping up with the truck. Then after about a quarter of a mile, the door rolled up, exposing a half-dozen gunmen who opened fire on him.
Hawk slammed on the brakes, ducking beneath the dashboard as bullets peppered his windshield. Once the truck disappeared around the corner, he kicked the glass out so he could see. He eased back onto the accelerator and resumed his pursuit.
“Hawk, do you still copy?” came Alex’s voice over the coms mixed with a heavy dose of static.
“I’m here,” he said. “They opened fire on me.”
“Were you hit?”
“I’m still good. Lost a windshield though.”
“Be careful,” she said. “You’re about to exit the tunnel, but I can’t see the truck yet.”
“There weren’t any turnoffs, so it’s got to be on this road still.”
Hawk emerged from the tunnel and the truck was gone. He slammed the steering wheel in disgust.
“How did they get away?” he asked.
“I found one road they could’ve gone down,” she said. “But I couldn’t tell you if they turned left or right.”
“Well, it doesn’t much matter since I can’t retrace my steps.”
“Yes, you can,” she said. “There’s a tunnel going in the opposite direction with one road that intersects both of them.”
“I still won’t know which way to go.”
“Go with your gut because it’s better than nothing.”
As Hawk followed his wife’s instructions, he weighed his upcoming decision about which direction to take. One led out of the city while the other led into the heart of downtown Guanajuato.
“Who owns that property I was at?” Hawk asked.
“It belongs to some shell corporation, so your guess is as good as mine.”
“I’m banking on drug lords. What do you know about them here? Where do they live?”
“Uh, let’s see. There are two major crime families here—one that lives downtown, while the other has a mansion outside the city limits atop a peak overlooking the valley.”
“Well, that didn’t help.”
“Like I said, just go with your gut.”
Hawk decided to go downtown, reasoning that with that many gunmen, the truck was headed to a fight. And a cartel with a position inside the city wouldn’t have a compound in the suburbs. Even as he turned, he wasn’t certain. But it was as educated a guess as he could make.
Hawk sped along until the tunnel ended and he was back above ground on a two-lane road, still one-way. As he navigated in and out of traffic, he kept scanning the area ahead of him for any sign of the truck.
“See anything yet?” Alex asked.
“Still nothing,” he said.
“Wait a minute. I think I have them.”
“Where?”
“About a quarter-mile ahead of your position.”
Hawk eased up behind the truck. The driver didn’t notice him until Hawk shot out the back left tire, causing the vehicle to skid back and forth, teetering to one side before the driver overcorrected.
Then the door rolled up. This time, Hawk was ready. He hurled a canister of tear gas into the back. With the truck swerving all over the place, the gunmen inside couldn’t grab the device spewing gas into the air as they fought to breathe. Seconds later, the truck slammed on its brakes, sending all the men sliding toward the front of the cargo hold.
Hawk skidded to a stop behind them and jumped out and began firing at the driver and the other man on the passenger side. He took cover near the back of his vehicle before hitting both hostiles with multiple shots. As the disoriented teenaged boys spilled out of the cargo hold, Hawk spotted Caleb Hunter and grabbed him and started walking along the street away from the carnage. Sirens wailed in the distance, causing Hawk to quicken his pace.
