by Brian Drake
Then Hector said, “Why are the two of you here?”
Dane and Nina exchanged looks, but before they could provide an answer, the door dinged open and two big men entered. Chairs scraped the floor and a woman gasped, but nobody moved.
Hector shouted at them to go away.
One of the goons reached across the bar, grabbed a fistful of Hector’s apron and smacked him. The other vaulted over the bar. He grabbed a bottle of rum. Dane took out his .45. The goon turned back around and froze.
“Put it back.”
The thug grimaced and raised the bottle; Dane shot him in the head. The thug fell back against a shelf of bottles, the shelf collapsing. A shower of bottles landed on his head. Not all of them broke.
Dane swung around to the other, who shoved Hector away and dug for an automatic on his hip. Dane shot him. The thug knocked over a table on his way to the floor.
Hector, leaning on the bar, holding the side of his face with his free hand, stared wide-eyed at Dane. He wasn’t the only one. Every customer in the bar locked their eyes on the American and his companion.
Dane put away the .45 and swallowed the last of his beer.
Nina smiled at Hector. “Does that answer your question?” she said.
14
Last-Resort Hideout
They made it back to the hotel without further incident, but the swarm of armed Zeta troops, all riding in the backs of Jeeps and pickups, kept them on guard.
“Got a little trigger-happy back there,” Nina said.
“What would you have done? This is an occupied town, and it might as well be invisible.”
“You’ve never let things get to you before. Why now?”
“They killed my friend.”
“You have a lot of friends. Some are alive and some are dead. What’s so special about General Parra?”
Dane said nothing. He poured a drink and lit a cigar and sat at the table. Nina, not pouring a drink of her own this time, sat on the edge of the next chair and leaned close.
“Please tell me,” she said.
“There’s a reason he wanted me here,” he said. “We had the soldier’s bond more than anybody I’ve served with. He hired me for a job, but we got really close—played poker and talked and smoked and drank whiskery into all hours. One night I really screwed up. We were in the middle of a fight, and I almost got shot in the back. I thought the fight was over and stood up. Parra saved my life. After the job was over, I told him if he ever needed me again to call and I’d drop everything and come here. But we were stuck in Greece.”
Dane blew out a stream of cigar smoke.
“He knew you would come,” Nina said. “You didn’t fail him. If he wanted to spend the night with his girlfriend, you couldn’t have stopped that, either.”
“And if she set him up, I’ll feed her to a shark,” he said.
“I’ll bring the rope to tie her up. But where will you get the shark?”
“Same place you got the rope.”
It was a quiet cantina, bright neon and low lighting. The stage, currently empty, was the center of attention. Dane and Nina leaned against the bar sipping cervezas; Carlos and Eva, not wanting to show themselves any more than they had to, had withdrawn after the breakfast meeting. Dane had no idea where they had gone, but he knew what they were doing: checking in with the other members of the team. He hoped they all were faring as well as Carlos and Eva against the invading Zeta forces.
A young woman in a tight black dress, her long hair straight down her back, stepped onto the stage to quiet applause. The band picked up their instruments and started playing. Her name was Consuegra Oliva and her father, Pablo, sat in a back corner booth with a guard on either side. He sat and drank beer and worked on a plate of fajitas. He stopped to applaud with the rest of the crowd.
Consuegra Oliva opened with a jazzy number that brought the place to life. She moved back and forth across the stage, making eye contact with the audience. Dane glanced over at her beaming father. She gave him a finger wave, and he saluted with the bottle.
Nina finished her beer and called for another; as she twisted off the cap, Dane’s cell phone vibrated. He went outside and answered.
“Yes?”
McConn said, “The girl’s with me.”
“Were you able to make the other arrangements we talked about?”
“No trouble. Her phone was easy to tap. Carlos and Eva are going to meet us, too.”
“What’s their situation?”
“They weren’t the only ones hit, but everybody’s in one piece and they’re all going underground until further notice.”
“Okay. We’re on our way.”
“Get enough of a look at Oliva?”
“He’s a proud papa.”
“And a murderer.”
“True. But his kid likes him.”
“Funny how that works, isn’t it?”
“No! Get out!” Hector came around the bar waving a finger. “Get out!”
Carlos stepped between Dane and the older man. They exchanged words in rapid Spanish, with Hector making accusing gestures at Dane.
Carlos turned to Dane. “You shot two Zetas here?”
“Yes.”
“You brought the heat, Dane. Hector’s afraid they’ll retaliate. He isn’t a soldier but he ferries information through the network. You picked a lousy place for a gunfight.”
“Where else can we go?”
Before Carlos could say, Hector exploded with a further salvo of rapid vocabulary; the exchange took several more minutes. Hector’s cheeks flared, but he finally threw up his hands and returned to the bar.
“Ten minutes, no more,” Carlos said.
A trap door in the back room revealed a flight of stairs. Dane let everybody else go first: Carlos, Eva, Nina and then McConn and Parra’s girlfriend, Rosita. She didn’t look at him but stayed close to McConn.
Carlos and Eva pulled strings on overhead lights and lit the small room. Bare wood walls, two cots and a table.
“Sort of a last-resort hideout,” Carlos explained.
McConn showed Rosita to the table, and she sat down. “Why are you treating me like I did something wrong?” she said, glancing at them all. She hugged her purse close and hunched her shoulders, turned puppy eyes at Dane.
“What happened the night the general died?” Dane said.
She started to cry. It took a few moments for her to speak. “It was a normal night.” She sniffed. “We had dinner and were sitting on the couch.”
“They shot him through the window.”
Rosita moved her head up and down, wiping her eyes.
“Why did he sit on the couch near the window, Rosita?”
“We always did! He wasn’t concerned with being killed. We never talked about work. When he was with me he relaxed. It was the only time he really relaxed.”
“Uh-huh.”
“You think I did this?”
“I think you set him up.”
“Why would I? I’ve been with him for two years. If I wanted to hurt him, I could have done it sooner. I didn’t tell!” She sobbed into her purse.
Dane turned to McConn. “Get her out of here.”
McConn helped the woman from the chair. They went up the stairs to the bar and out to the street. McConn put her in the passenger seat of his car and drove off after a cryptic glance at Dane.
Carlos and Eva climbed into their Jeep. Carlos said to Dane, “Do you really think she was involved?”
“That’s why we bugged her phone. If she did and knows we know, she’ll have to report.”
Carlos started the motor. “We’re still assuming Oliva is guilty. What if it was somebody else?”
“Who might that be, Carlos?”
The other man shook his head.
“We’ll know soon enough,” Dane told him.
Eva waved good-bye as Carlos stepped on the gas.
Rosita sobbed quietly as McConn drove. He wondered if maybe Dane had figured wrong. If she was
guilty, she was one hell of an actress.
They didn’t talk during the drive, and McConn escorted her up three flights of steps to her apartment, where she entered without saying good-bye. He waited until the deadbolt slammed into place and then returned to his car.
Opening the glove compartment, he took out a black box with an earphone attached. He put the earphone in his left ear and turned on the box. He didn’t have to wait long. The sound of Rosita’s dialing a telephone came through loud and clear. Ringing began. Another party picked up and a male voice said:
“Yes?”
“It’s me. They know everything!”
“We know.”
“What?”
“It was only a matter of time.”
“What do I do now?”
“You can do whatever you want.”
“What? You make me spy for two years and now you cut me loose?”
The line clicked. She screamed and slammed her receiver down.
McConn yanked the earphone and called Dane’s cell.
Dane said, “Any news?”
“You were right. First thing she did was call.”
“I’ll be in touch.”
“Don’t do anything without me, Steve. Steve?”
Dane had already hung up.
Dane tapped the door with the snout of the .45.
The door opened about an inch. Dane kicked. Rosita yelped as the door smacked her in the face; she fell back, Dane rushing in with Nina behind him. She shut the door. Rosita’s nose was bleeding down her upper lip. She spat blood on the carpet. Dane grabbed her hair and pulled. She screamed, forcing herself up; Dane flung her onto the couch. He leaned close and put the .45 against her head.
“What did you tell them?” he said to Rosita.
“I didn’t—”
Dane jabbed her in the throat with the .45. She gagged. “We tapped your phone, honey. We know everything, remember?”
“I told them about Juan’s house!” she said.
“For how much?”
“Twenty thousand US,” she said.
“What, no sick mother who needs an operation?”
“You’re going to kill me anyway!”
Dane’s finger tightened on the trigger.
“She’s not worth it,” Nina said. “Don’t waste the bullet.”
Dane relaxed and stepped back. “Maybe.”
“She’s useless to them now. Did they already pay you?”
Rosita jerked her head up and down.
“I suggest you get out of town fast,” Nina said. “You’ve probably been here too long already.”
Dane put away his gun and went to the door. He went out, leaving the door open. Nina followed, but stopped long enough to turn and wink.
15
Nice Place for a Battle
Dane said to Carlos, “Time to gather the troops,” and outlined his plan.
“Are you sure a direct assault is a good idea?” Carlos said.
“Once Oliva is out of the way, his people will be too concerned with the power vacuum to worry about us.”
“Okay,” Carlos said. “I’ll send you the coordinates to the camp.”
Dane hung up and called McConn and told him to stand by. He grinned at Nina. “Now the real fun begins,” he said. “Has there been enough action for you so far?”
“Plenty,” she said.
Dane slowed the truck as it bumped along, the road full of ruts and rocks. “Should be right around this corner,” he said.
Nina sat beside him, with McConn in the back with their gear. The dry mountain country was about as far from anywhere as they could get and probably the best place to assemble an armed force, though Dane knew from his own experience that such camps were best in place for only a short time.
Dane steered the truck around the corner and slowed to squeeze between two boulders on either side of the pass. Two men in camouflage holding automatic weapons stepped into view. Dane stopped the truck. He and Nina and McConn raised their hands. One of the soldiers came up to Dane’s window, looked at him a moment, and said, “Follow us,” in accented English.
The troops started moving, and Dane eased the truck along behind them. Presently they entered a clearing surrounded by low hills; the camp was a tent city, with large and small tents set up in rows, large trucks and Jeeps the only vehicles. Troops were spaced out along the outer perimeter in foxholes, each with a heavy machine gun. Others milled about the camp.
The two escorts stopped at one of the larger tents where Carlos stood waiting. He was dressed for battle in green fatigues, a pistol on his right hip and a rifle across his back. His shirt stuck to his body. A bandana tied around his forehead was soaked through; Dane looked around and saw that pretty much every soldier had a bandana around his or her forehead, and felt the wetness on his own. He did not have a bandana. When he stepped out of the air-conditioned truck, he decided he’d better scrounge up a few for him, Nina and Todd.
“Welcome to Valle de Zorro, the Fox Valley,” Carlos said.
“This would otherwise be a nice place,” Dane said.
“It is a nice place,” Carlos said, leading the trio inside.
A map lay across a table in the center of the room. No chairs. Glossy photos were pinned on the canvas walls. Large battery-powered fans circulated the air, and rocks weighed down the corners of the map. The pinned-up pictures flapped in the machine-generated breeze.
Eva, in fatigues of her own but carrying only a holstered pistol, stood near the table with her lips a flat line. She only nodded at the new arrivals; the other soldiers in the room listened to Carlos’s introduction, and then he directed the three to the map on the table.
“This is Oliva’s estate,” he said, speaking over the noise of the fans. “House in the center of the property, walls all around, hills in the back. He has about twenty troopers there.”
“That’s all?” Nina said. “What about reinforcements?”
“There is a barracks ten miles east, accessible by a two-lane road.”
“I see the plan already,” McConn said.
“I have men ready to hit the barracks,” Carlos said. “The rest of the force—”
Explosions rocked the compound, and a line of automatic weapons fire stitched a jagged line in the wall behind Eva. Heavy machine gun fire hammered back in response. Everybody hit the floor. Carlos and Dane crawled to the door and looked out. Two pit gunners and a trooper firing from a Jeep sprayed bursts at a large group of armed men rushing toward the camp across open ground. Men yelled, ran to positions; more machine gun fire crackled throughout the camp.
The radio attached to Carlos’s web gear sparked to life.
“Zeta forces attacking!”
Carlos radioed back. “All troops, do whatever you have to do to repel!”
More slugs tore through the tent walls; more explosions echoed. Dane and Carlos raced outside. Nina and McConn followed Dane while the soldiers went with Eva, who was shouting orders.
The Jeep ahead took fire, the gunner’s head snapping back. Dane leapt for the gun as the soldier fell. He turned the muzzle on the approaching force and yanked back the trigger. Flame spat from the barrel of the big American M-60, the weapon hammering against his shoulder. He did not aim but instead fired into the attack force. The bright flame from the muzzle made using the sights useless. Some bullets missed but others found a home, and as Nina, McConn, Carlos and the two pit gunners fired their own assault weapons, more of the attackers fell and others sought cover.
The battle raged throughout the camp. Two tents were already on fire, and the flames licked at other, nearby tents; Carlos’s men fought from cover or in the open as the Zetas continued their advance.
Dane’s weapon clicked dry. He opened the action and pulled a second belt of ammo from a container near his feet. Bullets split the air, whined off the windshield frame. Dane locked the ammo in place and opened fire again. The Zetas were getting closer. He wiped sweat from his face and eyes.
One
of Carlos’s men, carrying a flame thrower, ran to the Jeep, stopped near the driver’s side and sent an arc of flame toward the Zetas. Some of the men screamed as fire engulfed them; on the ground, brush and bushes caught fire, and soon a screen of searing heat stood between their position and the attacking force.
Over Carlos’s radio: “Helicopters approaching from the east!”
“Are they ours?”
“No way to tell—here they come!”
Three helicopters hopped over the eastern rise. One broke off and dived low, and door gunners on either side started firing into the camp.
The other two choppers loosed rocket fire that smashed into the ground with tremendous force.
Dane spotted a cluster of Zeta troopers going for a break in the firewall. He fired, cutting two down and driving the others back.
The choppers zoomed overhead and began to circle back.
Dane dropped into the foxhole beside Carlos. “Where are your helicopters?”
“Hidden in the mountains about five miles south!”
More rockets pounded the camp as the three choppers flew over again; thick, eye-stinging smoke wafted throughout. Eva and another soldier broke through the smoke and reached the foxhole. Eva said, “They’ve broken through!”
“We need to get to those choppers, Carlos!” Dane said.
“The camp will be embers before we could get back!” Eva said.
“We can’t stay here!” Nina said.
Carlos said to Dane, “Can you fly?”
“No,” Dane said, “but Todd can.”
“He can take one and I’ll take another,” Carlos said. “Get in the Jeep. Everybody, come on!”
One of the helicopters swung away from the camp to follow the Jeep. Dane swung the M-60 around and fired at the approaching craft. Sparks on the undercarriage signaled hits. The chopper flew overhead, the left door gunner leaning out and strafing the ground near the Jeep. The jolting vehicle made a straight bead impossible. Dane fired. The salvo struck the doorway, the gun and the gunner himself; the gunner pitched forward, falling from the chopper, landing hard on the ground behind the Jeep.