Page 7 of Rebel Protector
Pat had grinned, a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Glad you asked. We want to use your in with Suarez to infiltrate an arms dealer’s operation. A guy named Alek Markov.”
“I’ve heard of him. New guy, ruthless.”
“That’s him,” Pat had confirmed.
“What’s he done to you? This isn’t your turf.”
Pat’s face had darkened. “He’s involved in illegal arms deals—and he went after one of our own. We plan to take him down.”
Ghost had leaned back, considering. “He’s a hard man to get close to. Lives in a secret hacienda, guarded around the clock. His mercs are paid well enough to keep their mouths shut.”
“You got to Suarez,” Blade had pointed out.
“Suarez recruited me,” Ghost had reminded them.
Pat had nodded. “We know you were sent undercover to figure out who was recruiting soldiers from the academy. That mission’s done. It’s time to move on.”
“And Suarez?” Ghost had asked. “I’ve worked too long to bring him down. I deserve to be there when it happens.”
“With your intel, the FBI will arrest him. But you can’t be involved in the takedown.”
Ghost had slammed his fist on the table, frustration boiling over. “After all the shit I’ve put up with, you expect me to just walk away? That bastard deserves more than a pair of cuffs.”
Pat had leaned in, his voice steady. “This isn’t your fight anymore, soldier. You’re needed for something bigger—Blackthorn’s mission has been sanctioned by the government. We need you to shift your focus to Markov.”
Ghost had clenched his jaw. “You’ll take Suarez down?”
“The FBI will handle him—and his entire organization. We just need you to give us the details of his next shipment.”
Blade had chimed in then. “Once that’s done, you’ll disappear for a bit before making your move on Markov. Use your rep as one of Suarez’s top guys to slide into his circle.”
“And why would Markov hire me?”
Pat had smirked. “I’m sure you can think of something.”
Ghost quirked his lips. “I think I have an idea.”
Ghost tooka swig of the beer the pockmarked barman had set in front of him and grimaced at the taste. "I’ve made contact with Markov."
Pat eyed him curiously. "You went to his hacienda?"
"Yeah, but not without getting searched and hooded. They weren’t taking any chances."
Pat leaned back in his chair, clearly impressed. Markov was known for his paranoia, keeping anyone he didn’t trust at arm’s length. "How’d it go?"
"He’s agreed to a trial run." Ghost kept his voice low. "I convinced him that the network I set up to smuggle Suarez’s narcotics into Panama could be used in reverse to transport Markov’s weapons into Colombia."
"And is that actually doable?" Pat asked, seriously.
Ghost shot him a look. "You think I’d set this up if it wasn’t?"
Pat chuckled. "Fair point. When’s this trial shipment going down?"
"That’s still up in the air," Ghost replied. "Markov needs to get back to me with the details, but I suspect he’ll want to secure an order with the Colombians first. Still, we don’t have to wait for that. My network’s still in place, but they’ve heard about Suarez getting nailed, so I’ll have to head down there, smooth things over. Make sure we’re still good to go."
Pat’s brow furrowed. "You think they’ll spook?"
Ghost shook his head. "Nah. Most of them are indigenous—farmers, fishermen, regular folk who need the cash. Suarez going down puts them out of work. They’ll come to the table."