SEAL Team Bravo: Black Ops VI - Guantanamo Read Free Page A

business. When she comes back, then you can kill her."
    "There's another problem, Señor Montez. It was no accident Manuel was listening outside the door. He was a spy."
    "What!"
    "Yes. He died before I could get him to tell me who he worked for, but I assume it would have been either the Colombian government or the DEA."
    "Shit. Any more bad news?"
    "There may be. He put the information he collected on a USB stick and sent it to his daughter in New York. It consists of a lot of important data, our offshore bank account codes, lists of suppliers, customers, our contacts in the cops and US Customs. He said he told her to keep it in a safe place, as a kind of insurance in case we discovered what he was doing. But he didn't tell me where she kept it, even though I tortured him."
    "That information could destroy us, Carlos! You killed him before he could talk?"
    "Heart attack, Jefe. It was an accident."
    Montez scowled. "You stupid bastard. Get that USB stick! I don't care how you do it. Go to New York, find her, and retrieve that USB stick. Then kill her, I don't care if you do it in the middle of Times Square. But this time, make sure you have the data stick first. I don't want any more fuck ups."
    "I'll take care of it, Boss. I have a cousin who recently moved to New York City. His name is Cristobal. He is from Medellin. He will help."
    "Make sure he does. When you have that data, make sure she disappears. Permanently."
    "Yes, Boss. Don't worry, I'll deal with it."
    "You'd better. Carlos, you missed the important bit. The prison they want us to hit. It's Guantanamo Bay."
    Carlos’ eyes widened. "Gitmo! How come?"
    "They want us to use one of our submersibles. Apparently, the cage is close to the beach."
    "Is that so?" He thought for a few moments and nodded, "Yeah, that could work."
    "You think so?" Montez queried him.
    "If we treat it like a cargo of product, why not?"
    The Colombian smiled, and he looked at Yazid Hamza. "God help the Americans."

Chapter One
     

    "How the fuck did we get ourselves into this?"
    Chief Petty Officer Kyle Nolan squinted back at Will Bryce, the immensely strong, black PO1 who was the rock on which US Navy Seal Team Bravo was founded. Normally, Will would be dressed in camo kit and festooned with weapons and equipment, but now he wore a ragged, filthy, cotton shirt and pants that had once been white; the uniform of Taraza prison, situated in the steaming hell of the Colombian jungle. He was also badly bruised and covered in deep cuts and gouges; the scars were also the uniform of Taraza prison.
    They'd been assigned a simple kill mission. A prominent politician had decided to augment his government salary by going into business with the cartels. The US government had found out and tried to stop him by legal methods, but they'd failed. The man was too highly connected, and the stream of cocaine that poured into American cities had continued unabated.
    It wasn't just the drugs. The politician, Rafael Benitez, cut corners to increase profits. His chemists used cheaper toxic chemicals to refine the coca leaves. As a result, Americans were dying after ingesting his substances. A decision was taken at the highest levels to terminate him before even more young people died. It was a mission for a small unit, four men, a single fireteam. The mission had been handed to Chief Nolan.
    He'd entered Colombia with Will Bryce, Brad Rose, and the newest member of Seal Team Bravo, John-Wesley Ryder. They flew in to Cartagena, Colombia, posing as tourists on a golfing vacation. Their weapons and equipment arrived in Bogotá on a separate diplomatic flight, and the local CIA operative met them at their hotel, his trunk stacked with canvas holdalls. They took possession of their gear, HK410 assault rifles and Sig Sauer P226 handguns, abandoned the golf clubs, and drove to Medellin in a rented SUV. The target owned a luxurious complex outside the town, out of sight of the local cops but guarded by the paramilitaries