Head Of The Snake

By G. Rehder

Head of the Snake is the sequel to Death Is Not the Final Chapter. It is book 2 in the Jason Orr saga.

When Orr travels to Questa, New Mexico, to visit an old Army buddy’s ranch, what awaits him there shakes him to his core. In his passion to seek justice and answers for his friend, Orr sets out on a quest that will entangle him with some of the most ruthless cartels in the United States. Their illicit world of fentanyl trafficking and Orr’s drive to avenge a death puts them on a collision course. It ends in an isolated body strewn canyon in Taos County. When the bullets stop flying, Orr and his two new companions find themselves with a strange dilemma. The decision they make will either help them accomplish a dream of establishing a veteran’s horse ranch or land them in jail.

But Jason Orr can’t leave it there. He makes a risky call from a dead vatos cell phone to the head of the CJNG cartel. The call starts a conflict that his antagonist Joseph Lehan, the CEO of Sarnev International, would never see coming.

Thousands of miles away, during Orr’s time in Questa, Joseph Lehan gives a command to the head of his Moscow division while he is attending a meeting at Lehan’s Bermuda Estate. There are three men who escaped back to Moscow Lehan wants eliminated. Lehan’s division head is ordered to avenge the death of Lehan’s best friend and benefactor, Andre Sarnev.

Unfortunately for Lehan, this order pushes him over a line that no one should ever cross. In that region of the world, you don’t disrespect the Solntsevskaya Brotherhood. A mistake that would cost him dearly.

Between what Orr has set in motion and Lehan’s own vendetta, one of the world’s richest companies, Sarnev International, could soon be no more, but that is another story.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fulton Books, Inc.
• Release date: Jun 15, 2020
• ISBN: 9781646544394

Book preview

Chapter 1

And the Lord said unto the serpent,

Because thou hast done this

Thou are cursed above all cattle

And above every beast of the field;

Upon thy belly shalt thou go,

and dust shalt thou eat

all the days of thy life

—Genesis 3:14

The Pobeda M20 had a faint trail of condensation coming from its back-tail pipes. It idled quietly as it sat next to a small runway at the CemR3Nho Airport, northeast of Moscow in the city of Vladimir. In the front seat sat Bogdan Gise and Matvej Klopov, and in the back seat, their boss Viktor Bardzecki.

Bardzecki sat quietly, his eyes closed, his hands folded in front of the fat body that was stuffed into an Armani three-piece suit. Gise and Klopov were vigilant. Their eyes scanned the tarmac and the fields that surrounded it. It was their job, as Bardzecki’s security detail, to keep the man safe.

After ten minutes of waiting for the Sarnev International jet to arrive, Bardzecki spoke to his men in English. He was trying to get his speech transitioned from Russian for the upcoming meeting.

You know vhat to do if I do not return? he asked them.

Gise answered, Da, glavny (boss).

Klopov just nodded his head.

Gud, dat is gud, Bardzecki answered.

The inside of the car returned to silence. Bardzecki’s mind bounced from one thought to another. He feared two men only, Joseph Lehan and his father, Leontiy Bardzecki, the head of the Solntsevskaya Brotherhood. He knew his father may forgive him, not without a price, but Lehan may not. If he did, his price would be higher than his father’s.

A few minutes later to the south, the lights of an approaching plane could be seen in the distance. This airport was not used very often for commercial passenger flights, so air traffic was light. All three men assumed it was the Sarnev jet, a Cessna Citation Sovereign. As it got closer, they knew they were right.

The plane touched down on the runway; it made a 180-degree turn at its end and moved toward the side tarmac where the Pobeda was parked. It taxied to within fifty feet of the waiting car and kept its engines running. The stairs came down, and a man in a pilot’s uniform stepped out and waved at them.

Both Gise and Klopov got out first. Gise opened the back door for Bardzecki, and he moved his body slowly out of the vehicle. He looked at his men.

Vit luck, I see you bot in few days.

He turned and walked slowly to the plane. Tomac, the copilot, gave him a hand up as he struggled up the steps.

Bardzecki entered the cabin and greeted Simon Percy, the head of the London Division, the only other occupant in the nine-seat compartment.

Simon, it gud to see you, my frund.

It’s been a while, Simon responded as he looked up from his laptop.

Da, very long, Viktor said.

Tomac closed the cabin hatch and told Viktor that Eric Mackey was the pilot today.

There is no attendant on this flight, so when we get in the air and the captain gives the okay, you’ll find the galley is freshly stocked, so help yourself.

Viktor nodded as he sat down in one of the larger seats at the back of the cabin. Thank you, he said.

The jet was quickly able to get back on the runway and start its takeoff. When it was in the air, it banked and headed west. Its next stop was Bern, Switzerland. It got to cruising altitude quickly. Mackey told his passengers they were free to move about the cabin.

Bardzecki got up and moved forward to the planes galley. There were K-Cups for coffee and fresh pastries. Viktor opened several cabinets until he found what he was looking for, the bar stock.

He made a cup of coffee pulled out a miniature Absolut twisted its cap and poured it into the cup.

As he was returning to his seat, Simon remarked, A little early, is it not?

Viktor just said, I’m Russian. It’s never too early for wadka.

After Viktor was seated, Simon spoke again, So, Viktor, rumor has it that your personal security detail was responsible—

He got cut off. Viktor held up his hand to stop him. Enough of rumors. I not care ’bout dem. Please, I am tired. Viktor had dismissed the conversation, and Simon went back to his laptop and his writing.

Viktor sipped his coffee and stared out the window. He could only see clouds, but it was better than conversing with a man he barely knew and probably would detest.

Hours later, they landed in Bern. The plane needed to refuel. Mackey stepped out of the cockpit and told his two passengers, If you want to get out and stretch, it would be a good opportunity.

Their next landing would be at Kindley Field across the Atlantic in Bermuda. Simon got up and deplaned, along with Tomac and Mackey. Viktor remained on board.

A new passenger boarded, Fredrick Haus, the head of the Bern division.

All three had been ordered, along with every other Sarnev Division head to attend the first company meeting since the disappearance of Andre Sarnev. They were all a bit nervous Joseph Lehan was known as a ruthless operator. They were uncertain what was coming, especially Bardzecki. He knew there was unfinished business between him and Lehan, business that would not bode well for him.

Chapter 2

The fall season would be short-lived in Anchorage. Winter came in fast and cold and ended the summer warmth with quick temperature transitions. It was a mere thirty degrees as Dave Banner (alias Dan Mercer) ran along the Tony Knowles bike trail that was on the outskirts of the Ted Stevens Airport. His warm breath was turning into small ice droplets on his red beard as he pushed down the path.

His pace was steady as he ran the course. He tried to get on it four days a week. Keeping up his strength and endurance was drilled into him in the Army, and he enjoyed the challenge. His route started on Float Plane Drive, which ran into Lakeshore, then a quick cut through on Helio Place brought him onto the bike trail.

He liked the course because it quickly got him into what he liked to call his natural setting, away from the constant activity of planes, pilots, and mechanics coming and going with aircraft taking off and landing on Lake Hood. Normally, the run would clear his head. He would focus on his pace, his breathing, and the landscape around him, but this morning, it was different.

His thoughts were consumed by his mentor and friend Jason Orr, now known as Alan Ames. The past months had been filled with high intensity and adventure. His life had been turned 360 degrees, but it was a good turn. He was in a good place, with good friends, whom he could count on to have his back, as he had theirs.

Jason had saved his life, and Dan had saved Jason’s; it was a bond that was hard to explain if you had never experienced it yourself. Dan had learned a lot under Jason’s guidance, which, in turn, gave him the confidence he now had. There was much more he hoped to learn, but that he foresaw for another day.

Now he was facing the inevitable. Jason was moving on, and Dan knew he was moving in a direction that would certainly bring him into danger, and with that danger, possibly death. As he ran, he considered all that had happened the past months, but what bothered him the most, he would not be there for him. Who would have Jason’s back?

But again, he knew Jason’s skills. That gave him comfort.

October 3, 1600 hours, it was a balmy forty-eight degrees as Dave Banner was taking advantage of the warm afternoon, checking the fluid levels in my dear friend Bo Cavanaugh’s Cessna Caravan. Bo had insisted on flying me all the way to Port Angeles, Washington, from his base field here in Anchorage. We would depart the next day, early about 0600 hours.

I walked across the deeply cracked asphalt between Bo’s office residence to the hangar, where the Cessna was being maintained. Dave was on a metal five-step ladder. Deep in his preflight inspection, as I walked up on him, he didn’t notice my approach. He was engrossed in the inspection.

Mr. Mercer, I called out.

Dave almost fell as he turned toward my voice. You scared the crap out of me, he said.

Sorry, just like I did on the roof in Bermuda.

Yeah, I remember.

There was a moment of silence as we both reflected on that moment when both of our lives had changed dramatically.

So you all packed? he asked me.

Yeah, got it all into two bags. Man, that’s my whole life, in two bags. I shook my head as I said it.

Nah, he said, all of us. We’re your life too.

Yep, you’re right. Damn and wise beyond your years.

Thanks to you, Dave said.

As I looked at him, I saw him as a younger brother.

So tomorrow’s the day, he said more than asked.

Early, Bo and I will be out of here early, I responded.

Well, the plane is airworthy. I’ve made sure of that.

I have no doubt.

Then I reached up and gripped his wrist. He stepped down from the ladder. We embraced each other.

I’m going to miss you, man, he said.

Yeah, I know. Me too.

Don’t get dead on me. I’m not going to be there to have you’re back.

Just knowing you’re here to protect, Bo, Ann, and Friend, that’s having my back.

Dave released from my hug and turned and walked deeper into the hangar. I watched him as he moved to a workbench. I was proud of this young man. I knew his sister Sarah would be also. I told him that many times.

Bo had assured me that Dave would always have a job with Cavanaugh’s Alaskan Adventures for as long as he wanted. Dave was learning to fly and soon would be able to pilot anyone of Bo’s three planes. Bo’s business had grown, and by next season, with Dave’s help and new pilot’s license, he would be able to have two planes in the air consistently.

In my heart, all was as good as it could be for my friends here in Alaska. Ann and Roger would be married next month. I deeded my property in Levelock over to them as a wedding gift. They intended to rebuild a cabin on the property using the same blueprint as my dad’s. The original cabin had been purposely burned down in an attempt to get to me and to hurt anyone associated with me.

Those attempts didn’t work out the way the perpetrator intended. You could say I won the first couple of battles to my adversaries none, but I knew the war between us would not end until either one or both of us were dead.

Right now, I had the advantage. Joseph Lehan did not know my new identity or where I was and where I would go. And I knew the Sarnev organization inside and out. As their former head of security, I was intimately familiar with their people, their offices around the world, and their mode of operation.

I had all this knowledge, and I planned on using that knowledge to avenge the deaths of my best friend Peter Grayden and the women I had fallen in love with, Sarah Mercer, Dave’s (Dan Mercer’s) sister.

With the help of my friends here in Alaska, we cut off the head of one snake, Andre Sarnev, but the body was designed to grow a new head, and its venom would be more lethal than the first. I still had some snake hunting to do.

Within a month, the highs here would only be in the midthirties. I grew to love Alaska and was reluctant to leave, but my work and goals here were complete. I knew the safety of those I loved was secure.

Now the weather was pushing me. The window for decent flying was growing narrower each day, not to mention my own drive and desire to check in on my old Army buddy, Mike Groves, hoping to make things right.

Mike had suffered on my account. His loyalty to me had put him in a position that lead to two broken hands, a concussion, ongoing surgeries, and rehab. He had kept a file hidden and safe for me, one that held damaging information against the relentless and unscrupulous Joseph Lehan.

His fight to protect the files location ended badly. He was outnumbered, and a former security partner of mine from Sarnev had a general idea of its location on Mike’s property in Questa, New Mexico. He had used that to his advantage.

The betraying partner, Dobbins, was a spy planted by Lehan. He was tasked with keeping an eye on me and my activities. His spying was what lead to my sudden and violent termination from my personal protection job with the now missing Andre Sarnev.

Unfortunately for Dobbins, I dealt with his betrayal on a dark cold street in Dillingham, Alaska, with one round to the forehead.

Now Mike’s health was declining because of his injuries. When I last spoke to him by phone, his voice was slurred and weak. He said he wasn’t drinking but was on some strong pain meds. That worried me. I couldn’t turn my back on my special ops brother. I still believed in no man left behind.

He needed my help, and I intended to do all I could for my old friend.

It was 0547 October 4, departure day. Bo Cavanaugh was on the radio, requesting takeoff from the Ted Stevens Airport tower. We were cleared to use the private plane runway on the east side of the airport.

Our first fuel stop would be in Sitka, 591 miles away. The Cessna could cover 790 miles with a full fuel tank, but we planned our 1,665-mile trip with two fuel stops before we made it to Port Angeles.

Bo’s piloting skills were top-notch even though he was in his early seventies. He had been flying for over fifty years, a Vietnam combat vet and copter pilot. He was my deceased Father Jack’s best friend. Bo had become my rock during some dangerous and trying times. I trusted him with my life.

He moved us onto the strip and pulled back the throttle on the 675-horsepower engine. The fourteen-passenger plane rose easily in the cold morning air. He banked us to the right, taking us away from the airport and its flight traffic. When we were out of Anchorage airspace, Bo took us up to about fifteen thousand feet.

We had our headsets on, and I turned and looked at him. His long handlebar mustache was solid gray and covered the whole lower half of his face. His mouth was obscured. I tried to read his thoughts by his eyes since he hadn’t put on his mirrored aviators yet.

I saw a sadness that I had only seen once before when he and I and Ann Hoffman put the ashes of my dad and Ann’s husband, Brian Hoffman, into the clear cold water of the Kvichak River.

I spoke up, I couldn’t ask for a better friend. Bo, I really appreciate all you have done for me. And what you are doing now, flying me all this way.

Bo looked my way.

Son, I need to be thanking you. You in my life gave me purpose again. Adventure, excitement, and you brought Dave up here, a blessing, son, a blessing.

I’m going to miss all of you, the whole team, a damn good one too. I tried not to get emotional, but my voice cracked. It gave me away. Then I added, I know you’ll look after everyone. If there is any sign of Lehan’s people, you’ll call me right away?

Yep, first thing. Now that Ann—whose new name is Janice Moore—has Friend—whose new name is Fred Rogers—in her life, I can breathe easier for her sake. I know Friend can hold his own. They got a good future together. You know I’ll treat Dave like my son. We got plans, and they’re all good.

I know, Bo. If I felt you didn’t have a good handle on things, I wouldn’t be leaving.

Dang, son, maybe I should give you somethin’ to worry ’bout.

I could tell he was grinning because his rising cheeks brought deeper creases around his eyes.

We flew in silence most of this first leg to Sitka. There was fog along most of the coast, so we flew about eighteen thousand feet. The ceiling on the Cessna was twenty thousand feet. Bo was instrument-rated, and his newest plane was equipped with the most modern navigation system available. Bo would need it when we finally had to break through the cover to land in Sitka.

For three minutes, we were flying blind through the dense cover that hung at six thousand feet. Bo had radioed the Rocky Gutierrez Airport tower in Sitka and was informed that the RVR (runway visual range) would be in the proper, operating Minima when he broke below five thousand feet.

After hearing the towers response, he looked at me and said, We’re all good, son. How come you’re so white?

You know I don’t scare easy, but this pea soup is not soup. It’s like cotton candy, I responded.

Son, this is exactly why I bought this plane. When we take off from Sitka, I’m going to autopilot and then take a nap. You good with that?

As I looked his way, we both started laughing.

The Sitka fuel stop went without incident. We got out of the plane and walked around stretching, taking advantage of the break. We had been in the air for three hours and forty minutes, running a little behind schedule because of the fog.

The next leg would be over Queen Charlotte Sound, moving into a warmer airstream with a possible front moving in from the mid Pacific. In my mind, rain was better than fog, and I told that to Bo.

"I’m an Alaskan bush pilot, son. I fly it all. You just sit back and let me get you to Port Hardy and Port Angeles.

I have no doubts about that, my friend.

There was only a slight drizzle coming down on us at Port Hardy again after landing a chance to stretch and get two large cups of bad coffee from the vending machine in the terminal lobby.

At least it’s caffeine, I told Bo as I sipped it.

He took a drink, just like in Nam. You weren’t fussy, just grateful.

Next stop, the William R. Fairchild International Airport, 331 miles away, in one of the most northern locations in the lower forty-eight.

At Port Angeles, Bo’s friend Eddie Mize, a vet buddy from Nam was going to put us up for the night. He also had a 2014 Toyota Four Runner that he was willing to sell me, cash.

I was looking forward to being on the ground. My body was stiff from sitting so long, and old injuries were telling me they had had enough.

Chapter 3

It was early October, and Andre had been missing for about three months. There had been no ransom demands, and all the contacts Joseph Lehan knew globally heard nothing about his location or his demise.

The last three people who had seen him alive, Andre’s new Russian Security team, were immobilized in the attack when he disappeared. They could give no helpful information or even indicate the basics of what had happened, let alone where Andre may be. Fortunately for them, after questioning by the county sheriff in Alaska and the intervention by William Patrick, they were allowed to leave the country and return to Moscow the next day.

The vehicle they were in when the attack occurred belonged to Andre’s good friend William Patrick, a wealthy Alaskan investor. Andre was en route to a meeting at Patrick’s hunting lodge on Lake Louise about the Blue Boulder Mining project at the time of the kidnap.

Andre’s disappearance was kept private and out of the media. The county sheriff didn’t even know a person was abducted out of the Humvee. All he was told was that three Russians, who had enemies, seeking revenge, made an unsuccessful attempt on their lives. The Humvee was towed to Patrick’s grounds and was searched by a private investigative team that Patrick had brought in.

Under the hood, they found three spent canisters that had residue of chloroform inside. They had been remotely discharged into the cab of the vehicle. The automatic door locks had also been bypassed to be controlled remotely. Whoever perpetrated the crime were professionals and caught the four occupants completely off guard, one of them never to be heard from again.

Since then, security had become a top priority for Lehan. He had taken steps after Andre’s disappearance to make sure the fate that befell his boss and friend would not be repeated on him.

He wanted to expand the Sarnev Security apparatus to cover all the companies offices globally. He had tasked Maria Simpson, his new personal assistant, with the project.

Prior to Andre’s disappearance, each division had their own security structure; if he put it all under one umbrella, it would give it unity, and more important to Lehan, he would have a better opportunity to track down the man he felt was responsible for Andre vanishing off the face of the earth, Jason Orr.

Maria spoke to and interviewed many heads of global security groups. After much consideration and discussions with Lehan, they both concurred to create their own security company. Not only would they save on the fees these companies would charge them, but they would be able to sell the services they developed after it became well established.

Maria had been impressed with a couple of people that were ex-Israeli special forces. They were now independent contractors who were looking to expand their small operations on a worldwide front. Katzi Bar-Lev and Havar Fromer had a team of one hundred and fifty men and women that they directed from their base of operations in New York City. They had many lucrative contracts in place with corporations up and down the East Coast of the United States.

They specialized in personal protection, anti-terrorism, and more importantly, cybersecurity. They employed a variety of ex-military and law enforcement personal with unique backgrounds and locations. They also had skilled technical staff that worked in the cyber section of their company. Its name was Masada Security, and as they both told Maria, this was just their beginning.

We want to be the best and the biggest. We just need the capital to grow it.

Maria checked on their backgrounds and references and found their reputation impeccable.

Lehan followed Maria’s recommendation and agreed to hire them to improve the islands security and Sarnev’s travel program. That would include a wide range of travel operations to keep him and his division heads safe worldwide during their frequent travels. Depending on the quality of the job they did on these fronts, Lehan would expand them into the protection of their offices and operations globally.

A huge task, Lehan told them, You will have financial resources that you have not even imagined, but I demand results.

Bar-Lev and Fromer told Lehan they were ready for the challenge. They had contacts all over the world. It would not be a problem.

Lehan felt he had waited a respectable period before calling all the Sarnev International global division heads to Andre’s estate and company headquarters in Bermuda.

There was a lot to discuss. William George from George, Franklin, and Pauly, Sarnev’s legal firm, with Sarnev being the firms only client, had been on the island for over a week. He had been going over all the legal aspects for Joseph Lehan to take the helm of one of the wealthiest corporations in the world.

For Lehan, Andre’s wishes under these circumstances were clear. He would become the acting president and CEO of Sarnev International until Andre was either located or the proof of his death was confirmed. Documents that stated such had been notarized and kept in Andre’s personal safe on the island in case of this very occurrence.

In preparation for the meeting, George had prepared briefs and documents for all the division heads to read and sign. They would all acknowledge Lehan’s new position. Lehan was confident there would be no dissent. He had files on all the board members with information he knew they would not want to be made public.

The new course of the company was also on the agenda. Lehan was anxious to implement ideas he had presented to Andre that Andre was reluctant to employ.

Sarnev International had division offices in Edmonton Alberta, Chicago, New York, San Francisco, Cayenne, French Guiana, Johannesburg, South Africa, Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, Bern, Switzerland, London, Moscow, Hong Kong, Beijing, Tokyo, Brisbane, Mexico City, Buenos Aires, and Kabul, Afghanistan.

Seventeen Division heads would all be at the estate at the same time, a first in the company’s history. All seventeen heads would be picked up by the fleet of Sarnev jets that were stationed in strategic locations around the world. Most being on the East Coast and Kindley Field Bermuda.

As the division heads arrived on Bermuda, they would be driven from Kindley Field to the estate by Security Details. They would pass through the double-gated entry where they would be searched, then body scanned before entering the walled compound. There would be no exceptions as per security protocol that had been in place for over a decade. Bar-Lev and Fromer were impressed by this procedure.

I can improve on it a little, but it is basically sound, Bar-Lev told Maria Simpson.

Viktor Bardzecki had just landed at Kindley Field in Bermuda with his fellow passengers on the Sarnev Cessna, Fredrick Haus, Bern Division, and Simon Percy, London Division. Viktor had been seated the whole time while in the air, except to rise to make a vodka, which Percy had lost count of all the way from Moscow. He was nervous—more than nervous, he was fearful. He had the feeling he would never see his beloved Moscow again.

*****

The disappearance of Andre Sarnev should be blamed on him; after all, it was his personal security team that had failed to keep Andre out of the hands of the kidnappers. What was so disconcerting to him was that Lehan had not thrown any blame his way, not yet, which was uncharacteristic of Joseph.

Their car moved into the gated entrance, and all three men were asked to exit. Their bags were brought into the glass-fronted security building as they stood waiting by the side of the car for their belongings to be searched inside. After their bags were returned to the car, they were escorted in, and each man went through a body scan. Bardzecki’s wide girth filled the scanner’s inner chamber to capacity.

All three men were cleared and reentered the vehicle and were driven inside the compound to the underground garage beneath the seven floors that made up the main estate. There were three attendants waiting for them to carry their luggage. They would follow them up to the fourth-floor living quarters after the three took the passenger elevator up.

Each man was familiar with the estate and its luxurious accommodations a five-star hotel would be put to shame. There were two basement floors that housed the working area and staff for the estate, also what was called the war room that could accommodate up to fifteen working cubicles and a military-grade computer system that monitored Sarnev Internationals global operations.

There was a central control room that watched every inch of the estate through a massive camera system. It was always staffed with no less than two security personnel. There were some exceptions to what they could see—bathrooms and the private living area of Joseph Lehan, who would soon move up to the fifth floor to occupy the now vacant and opulent living area of Andre Sarnev.

Bardzecki was shown to his room on the fourth floor. He had an Atlantic-side view, but he barely looked out the window. His focus was on the