Devil's Advocate (Trackdown Book 4)

by Michael A. Black

  Bernard sipped his drink and then nodded. After setting the glass down on the table, he leaned forward and spoke in a conspiratorial whisper, promising to deliver what they wanted at what sounded like an inflated price. The negotiations took under a minute, and Wolf got the feeling this Bernard character was trying to get an idea about how much money they had. Finally, they settled things and the black man then removed a cellphone from his pocket and dialed a number. When he spoke into it he used a language that was full of foreign sounds and sing-song intonations. Wolf figured it must be Kriol. When he hung up he slipped the cellphone back into his pocket and flashed the ivory smile again.

  “Drink up,” he said. “The items are on the way.”

  Dirk nodded and took another drink from the bottle.

  Wolf still hadn’t touched his and was getting a bad feeling about this deal-to-be. Real bad but, at this point, he was on a merry-go-round that was going too fast to get off safely.

  After about five minutes more, Bernard’s cellphone chimed. He’d finished his drink and had started on another. He spoke into the phone and Wolf could smell the booze on the guy’s breath.

  “He’s back with the goods,” Bernard said, displaying the array of teeth again. “Shall we?”

  The three of them got up with Wolf and Dirk following the slender black man outside. They both still carried their beer bottles and Dirk took another drink from his. Darkness had descended and he pointed to a shadowy expanse perhaps fifteen feet wide between two buildings. “Step into my office.”

  Wolf was feeling more and more that this wasn’t a very good idea, but he was in the middle of it now and ultimately had Kasey’s welfare to think about. If they were going to mount some kind of rescue, they needed guns. Dirk moved with the alacrity of self-assurance. Maybe it was time to let this alpha dog off the chain and see what he could do.

  Dirk, apparently sensing Wolf’s misgivings, asked, “You good?”

  Wolf nodded, holding the bottle by the neck down the side of his leg.

  This had better be quick and easy, he thought. Otherwise, we could be in a world of hurt.

  The three men from before stood at the midway point between the two buildings. Franco held a box and another had what appeared to be something long and solid looking wrapped in a blanket. As they drew closer Wolf scrutinized what the man was holding and inferred that it was too square looking to be a rifle.

  A three-foot two-by-four, most likely, he thought. This is probably going to be a rip.

  “Dirk,” he said.

  But before his partner could say anything, Bernard jumped to the side and one of the skinny trio came up with what looked to be a rusty blue steel revolver and pointed it directly at Wolf. His hand shook visibly as he waved the gun back and forth between Wolf and Dirk.

  Bernard reached out and Franco handed him a nickel-plated semi-auto.

  Wolf surmised that it was a nine-millimeter and the design suggested Berretta or Taurus.

  “Time to conclude our deal,” Bernard said, flashing the smile once more. “Now give me that stack of cash you been sitting on and we’ll let you two walk away.”

  “What about our guns?” Dirk said.

  Bernard’s smile flipped upside down into a scowl. “Don’t you be fuckin’ wid us, mon. You give us your money now, or else.”

  Dirk rolled his eyes and half turned toward Wolf.

  “Shit,” he said. “I guess we got no choice.” He dropped his beer bottle.

  Before Wolf could say or do anything, Dirk pivoted, driving his open left palm against the back of Bernard’s gun hand. The big fingers closed over the barrel of the weapon and Dirk smiled broadly as he ripped it free and then thrust a spear-hand blow to Franco’s throat. It made a popping sound similar to a chopped carrot.

  Wolf didn’t wait. He brought his right leg upward and around in with a crescent kick knocking the skinny arm holding the revolver askew. The gun discharged into the dirt and Wolf followed up by bringing his open hand down on top of the barrel and snatching it from the man’s grip. He then pivoted and delivered an uppercut just under the chin, and the man’s jaw made a clicking sound as his teeth snapped together. He folded over and collapsed to the ground. The third man ripped the blanket off what was indeed a two-by-four and stepped forward. Wolf’s foot smashed into the advancing man’s knee causing him to stumble forward. Pivoting, Wolf twisted his body and shot a roundhouse kick flashing upward so fast that he doubted the other man saw it before Wolf’s instep crashed into the man’s temple. He crumpled also.

  Dirk, in the meantime, was grinding Bernard’s face into the tan, stucco wall leaving the rough surface smeared with blood. Franco lay in the dirt squirming. Dirk stomped on him and then his right hand whipped out with a knife-hand to the back of Bernard’s neck and Wolf heard a dull crack. Bernard fell to the ground and shook spasmodically.

  “We got the guns,” Wolf said. “Let’s get out of here,”

  In an unhurried manner Dirk picked up the nickel-plated semi-auto and handed it to Wolf. He then rolled Bernard over and began going through his pockets.

  Wolf looked at the two weapons. The semi-auto was a nine-millimeter Taurus and the revolver a rusted .38 Ruger with a four-inch barrel. He checked the cylinder. Five rounds left. He didn’t take the time to check the magazine of the Taurus, and shoved both guns into his waistband and covered them with his blouse.

  Dirk checked each man for more weapons but found none. He then removed Bernard’s shirt and stuffed his cellphone, the two beer bottles, and the other man’s cellphone into the garment.

  “We need to dump these in the canal on the way back,” he said, handing the bundle to Wolf and reaching into his lower left pocket. His hand withdrew the butterfly knife and he swiveled it, popping open the closeted blade. “Just let me finish these fuckers off.”

  He stooped down and seized a handful of Bernard’s hair with his left hand.

  “Hold it,” Wolf said, grabbing Dirk’s arm. “These assholes are down for the count. And we ain’t coming back here. So, let’s leave them be and get out of here.”

  Dirk’s mouth twisted into a frown. “I don’t like leaving loose ends.”

  “We didn’t come down here to murder people.”

  “Didn’t we?” Dirk grinned. “I’m pretty sure I broke this fucker’s neck.”

  “These guys are no threat to us anymore,” Wolf said. “We need to go. Now.”

  Dirk smirked. “Still operating under those old rules of engagement, huh, Wolf?”

  Rules of engagement … He thought back to Iraq. Things don’t always work out the way you planned.

  “Let’s go,” he said, and headed out of the alleyway.

  THE VON DIEN WINTER ESTATE SOUTH

  BELIZE

  Soraces had grown a bit irritated waiting for the call from Dirk but it finally came well into the evening.

  “About fucking time,” Soraces said, making no effort to conceal his irritation.

  “Relax,” Dirk said. “And get ready to take notes. I had a hard time sneaking away from them.”

  This tripped a bit of alarm in Soraces. The last thing he wanted at this point was to have his inside man discovered.

  “And just how did you do that?” he asked. “I don’t want them suspecting you.”

  “Relax. I’m good. Now you want to hear about their plan, or not?”

  Soraces took a deep breath. He had to trust that Dirk had managed to slip out of the other’s presence without creating suspicion.

  “Tell me,” he said.

  “Okay, we’re set up in the Ramada in two adjoining room. Seven of us.”

  “Yeah, I know that. Charles told me what he saw on the plane.”

  “Me and Wolf went into the ghetto and got a couple of guns. A nine, with eight rounds left in it, and a piece-of-shit revolver. That one’s only got five.”

  So, Wolf was armed but still ignorant.

  “Wolf’s going to be carrying the revolver,” Dirk said. “They’re planning
on hitting you tomorrow. Early.”

  “Hitting us?” Soraces was astounded. “Here at the estate? Are they fucking nuts?”

  Dirk laughed. “That’s the plan. The broad and the big nigger went out and found a bunch of Guatemalans that work there. Your boss ain’t too popular with his servants, and they sold him out in a hurry. They also spilled it about the McNamara broad being held at the estate, which room she’s in, and also the lowdown on the whole security set-up there.”

  “They’re planning an assault?” Soraces was imagining a one-sided firefight that would leave them all dead. “With two handguns with thirteen rounds total?”

  “Quit interrupting me,” Dirk said. “That ain’t correct and I’ve got a lot more to tell you.” After a few seconds of silence, he continued. “The way Wolf’s got it figured ain’t a half-bad plan. They know how a new batch of spic servants is brought in each morning on a bus, and how they’re stopped at the gate and their fucking temperatures are taken. Wolf and the Latina bitch are gonna be on the bus wearing masks, like good little piss-ants, pretending to be Guatemalans. When they get up to the house, they’re gonna sneak inside and go find the girl. Me and McNamara are gonna be in a Toyota Camry, and, get this, I’m gonna have the nine-millimeter on account of I’m such a good fucking shot.” He paused to chuckle. “The two dickwads from Best in the West are in the Jeep with a chain and a grappling hook. When Wolf contacts McNamara, by text, that they’ve got the daughter and are en route to the front gate, we’re gonna roll up and I’ll take out the gate guard, if necessary. The other two will use the four-wheel-drive to take down the gate, and me and McNamara will pull on through and pick up Wolf, the Latina bitch, and the daughter and scoot.”

  Soraces considered this. It was bold and audacious and might, possibly, have worked, if they actually had Dirk working on their side.

  But they don’t, he thought.

  “What about the bandito?” Soraces said. “And didn’t you say there was one more of them?”

  “Yeah, some big dude named Reno. Former MMA fighter, but now he’s walking with a cane. He knows a lot about the estate, too.”

  It had to be Garth, the guy that had been recruited before.

  “He’s going to be holding the bandito?”

  “Yeah, in the third car they rented. A tan Subaru Forester. Reno’s gonna be on the outskirts with the bandito, sorta like a fail-safe.”

  “You sure they brought it?” Soraces asked. “You’ve seen it? You know what it looks like?”

  “I do, and they got it, all right. In a backpack. I seen a duplicate of it, unpainted, in that craft’s shop. I remember knocking it onto the floor.”

  Wolf must have requisitioned another duplicate, Soraces thought. This means I can’t rule out the possibility that the one he brought down here might also be a fake.

  Wolf had to be taken alive after they were defeated in this planned assault.

  “And that Wolf gave that Reno guy a sledgehammer to take along, just in case.”

  The threat from before, Soraces thought.

  “You hear from Lola?” Dirk asked. “She coming down to join the party?”

  “No,” Soraces said.

  “Too bad,” Dirk said. “I was looking forward to seeing her again.”

  Soraces said nothing to that. He didn’t want to be distracted thinking about her.

  Maybe this is the genuine bandito after all, he thought.

  But he had to make sure, which meant allowing this plan to appear to be completed by his opponent so he would move into the gambit.

  “I say again,” Dirk said. “Why not just have me slit their throats tonight and bring the damn thing to you? It would save a lot of bullshit.”

  Soraces weighed the offer. “No, let it play out. There’s still an outside chance that this one’s another duplicate. Plus, the murders of six Americans in a tourist hotel would bring too much heat. We’ll deal with them quietly once we take them prisoner tomorrow, inside the estate.”

  “Okay, whatever trips your trigger.”

  “All right,” Soraces said. “I’m going to make my call to Wolf now, telling him that I’ll set up an exchange, the girl for the bandito, tomorrow night in the city. In the meantime, we’ll let their little raid go forward seemingly without a hitch. I’ll even have the gate guard leave the fucking thing open for them. The only catch will be me and the Perkins twins will be waiting for Wolf inside the main house when they come in.”

  “What about me?” Dirk asked. “You want me to kill McNamara and the others and just come up to the house?”

  Again, Soraces considered the best options. They still had to achieve their main objective of getting the bandito, and that meant they had to maintain enough leverage to make Wolf play ball once he was in custody. The more hostages he had to play with, the better.

  “No,” Soraces said. “I want to keep them alive as bargaining chips, should I need them.”

  “Okay, sounds good,” Dirk said. “And let me do that Latina bitch. I want to have some fun with her first.”

  “Not a problem,” Soraces said, imagining Dirk brutalizing the girl. Soraces wondered if she was pretty as he terminated the call.

  Probably, he thought, although, to a sadistic psycho like Dirk, that wasn’t always a requirement.

  He looked around the elaborately furnished bedroom and fingered the ninja knife and wished he had that whiteboard to throw the blade at again. But then again, he’d had enough practice. Now it was time to make what would hopefully be his last Wolf call.

  THE RAMADA INN

  BELIZE CITY, BELIZE

  Wolf tossed his cellphone down onto the bed and saw the others looking at him. He’d been thrust into the position of team leader in this situation, and he knew the stakes were high. Still, he felt a certain responsibility for causing a lot of the hardship and this had turned into his last remaining chance at some achieving some form of redemption. Gone was his hope to find the flashdrive and clear his name. Getting Kasey back safely was all that mattered at this point.

  “Soraces says he’ll call tomorrow night with the instructions for making the exchange,” Wolf said. “But we’ll have Kasey back before that.”

  “Maybe we can negotiate then for that flashdrive, Steve,” McNamara said.

  “Let’s not worry about that,” Wolf said. “Kasey’s our sole priority at this time.”

  McNamara looked old and worn down, and Wolf knew it wasn’t only from the fatigue of operating on little sleep for the better part of the last week. The concern for his daughter was taking its toll on him. Hopefully, in about twelve more hours it would be over, and Kasey would be safe. But he knew they couldn’t afford to drop their guard.

  McNamara nodded. “But just the same, we’re down here, and I’m getting mighty sick of just sitting back and taking hits. These fuckers are gonna have to pay, one way or another.”

  Wolf said nothing, letting the tension slowly dissipate. He knew Mac wanted a reckoning. So did he, but, in the grand scheme of things, they were way overmatched. Stealth and a quick, in-and-out op were their best chances.

  Our only chances, he thought. We’re still a herd of Bambi’s baiting Godzilla.

  “Okay,” he said. “We’d better try to get some sleep, but I want two-man guard duty in four-hour shifts, and everybody up and ready to go by zero five hundred. Brenda and I need to get dropped off at the pick-up point in the Guatemalan section by zero six-thirty.”

  “Guard duty?” Reno said.

  “Right. We’ve got to operate under the assumption that Soraces might know, or try to find out where we are. We can’t afford to take the chance that he might send somebody after us.”

  “An old army proverb,” McNamara said. “Never get caught with your drawers down.”

  As Wolf was making the assignments the phone in the hotel suite rang, shocking everyone.

  Wolf immediately was on guard again as he picked up the receiver.

  “Mr. Wolf?” a British sounding voice asked.
>
  “Yeah.”

  “This is P. D. Jeeves at the front desk,” the voice said. “There’s a man down here in the lobby causing a bit of a ruckus. He’s being quite adamant about going up to see you. Naturally, we haven’t told him your room number.”

  Could Soraces have found them so soon? Had he sent somebody? But why would they announce themselves?

  “And he asked for me by name?” Wolf asked.

  “Yes,” Jeeves said. “He’s a bit of an unruly chap, but doesn’t seem all that threatening. In fact, he appears to have been injured. His left arm’s in a sling.”

  “A sling?” Wolf’s mind raced. “He give a name?”

  “Just a moment.”

  A muffled sound came over the phone, accompanied by the sound of Jeeves saying, “Oh, dear.”

  “Wolf?” the familiar voice said. “It’s Franker. We need to talk.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  JUST OUTSIDE OF THE VON DIEN ESTATE

  BELIZE

  The bus trundled down the highway and then slowed to make what Wolf assumed to be the final turn onto the winding road that led up to the estate. It was very uncomfortable inside the bus and the lowered half-windows seemed only to let in more of the hot, tropical air without creating any kind of refreshing current. The fatigue factor had grown exponentially. He’d never, in his wildest dreams, figured on Franker making his way down here. He recalled the FBI man’s steely resolve when he’d gone down to meet him in the lobby the previous night.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Wolf had asked.

  “I intend to ask you the same question,” Franker said. “You got no right keeping me out of this. Where’s Kasey?”

  Wolf took a deep breath and ushered him over to a set of empty chairs surrounding a small table in the far corner of the massive lobby. Franker looked like he’d been through the wringer and traces of pain showed on his face as he moved.

  When they sat, he leaned forward, grimaced and tried to hide it, and then said, “Where is she?”