Skills to Kill

by Brian Drake

  Dane had about six inches left in the ammo belt. As the chopper started to turn away, Dane fired into the cabin and cockpit. The chopper rocked from side to side and then dived into a hillside. The explosion peppered the dirt road with hissing pieces of metal debris.

  Carlos, eyes forward, kept driving; Dane locked a third belt into the gun and caught Nina’s eye. She was sweaty and dirt clung to her face, and her ponytailed hair was an unruly mess. She was beautiful. She blew him a kiss.

  The two UH-1 “Huey” gunship helicopters, similarly armed, sat next to each other in a hollowed-out, open-topped mountain. Carlos swung the Jeep through a short entry tunnel and stopped. The crew piled out. McConn jumped behind the controls of one helicopter and fired up the motor as Carlos did the same with the other.

  Dane and Nina joined McConn, each strapping into one of the door guns on either side. These door guns were long-barreled Browning .50-calibers, fully loaded. Other armament included missiles pods. Eva joined Carlos. As the rotors spun, the wind they generated filled the cavern; Carlos lifted off first and rose through the opening; McConn followed, and the two pilots steered for the columns of rising smoke in the distance.

  When they were within range of the camp, the two Zeta choppers turned toward Carlos and McConn, side-mountain guns blazing. Carlos loosed a salvo of missiles that blasted one of the Zetas out of the sky. As the flaming black cloud filled the blue sky, the second chopper made a sharp left turn. McConn countered the move, exposing the Zetas to Dane’s gunsight. Steve Dane blasted into the backside of the enemy chopper. It swung around to Nina’s side and she gave it another burst, and a trail of black smoke poured out the back.

  McConn circled behind the smoking chopper while Dane and Nina fired at Zeta targets on the ground. The fight below still raged, with Carlos’s troops and the Zetas engaging in close fighting or hand-to-hand combat.

  The smoking helicopter swung left again. McConn fired a missile that flashed past the canopy. He corrected with a touch of stick and rudder and fired again. The missile struck dead center. McConn felt the wave of heat from the fireball as he flew by.

  McConn turned back for the camp. The battle wasn’t over by a long shot.

  16

  Warriors Fall

  Four hours later

  The remains of the tents smoldered, and the echoes of gunfire and explosions still hung in the air, but the Zetas had been driven back. Carlos’s people did not bother so much with the buildings as they took care of the wounded and the dead.

  Later in the evening, Dane found Carlos sitting alone under a tree smoking a cigarette. He sat next to the other man but said nothing. Carlos, cross-legged, had a thousand-yard stare on his face, his neck and shoulders tight from the burdens on his mind.

  “Forty-seven dead and over a hundred wounded,” Carlos said. “We can’t go on like this.” He exhaled a stream of smoke.

  “What’s the alternative, Carlos?”

  “Run. Anywhere.”

  “And the people looking to you for leadership? What do they do?”

  “They run. Anywhere.”

  “Some people aren’t made for running.”

  “My troops have been slaughtered and my equipment blasted to hell. What’s left to fight with? We don’t have a treasury. Oliva can buy what he wants from the Duchess, but we have to scrounge and steal and hide. Where do we go?”

  “We have enough gas left,” Dane said, “for one chopper. I say we load up and take this fight straight to Oliva.”

  “But—”

  “It’s the last thing he’ll expect,” Dane said.

  Carlos traced a line in the dirt with one finger.

  “Carlos? I’m going with or without you.”

  “Okay,” the other man said. He stubbed out his cigarette in the dirt. “I’d hate for you to get lost.”

  “Have you seen Nina?”

  “I think she’s over by the creek.”

  Dane walked through the camp. Some tended to the wounded, while others loaded every piece of equipment that was still usable onto trucks. The focus and determination on the faces of Carlos’s men were no surprise to Dane. Yes, it had been a bad day and many of their comrades were dead, and now they had to withdraw. But the fight would not end today. Tomorrow was another day, as somebody once said, and they would have their revenge.

  Dane left the perimeter and followed a worn path to the creek, where he found Nina rinsing off her arms and face. Dane’s boots snapped a twig. She reached for her gun.

  “Don’t shoot.”

  Nina put down the Smith & Wesson 9-millimeter and sat in the dirt. Dane sat beside her. He tossed a pebble into the water. The water rippled.

  She said, “I had to get away from there.”

  “I don’t blame you.”

  “How’s Carlos?”

  “He wants to quit. It’s hard not to agree with him.”

  “But you didn’t,” she said.

  “Of course not. We’re going to load up a chopper and go to Oliva’s. We’ll take the party to him.”

  “I’ll bring a bottle of wine.”

  “I was thinking something a little more potent.”

  Dane stood and held out a hand. She grasped it and he pulled her up. She threw her arms around him and squeezed tightly. He closed his eyes and squeezed her back.

  “We were supposed to be on vacation, remember?” she said. “Before all this started.”

  “Are you getting tired?”

  “I think I’d like to slow down for a while,” she said.

  He let go and she stepped back, but he still held her close. “We always say that and then—”

  “You’re right,” she said. “Can’t we put it on hold for a month or so? Or at least until I get bored—that might only take two weeks.”

  “Anything for you, sweetie.”

  “And no accordion players to disturb us like in Venice.”

  “If one shows up, I will crush his skull with my bare hands.”

  She laughed and broke away. “That would take a miracle,” she said. “And this is getting too serious. Let’s go.”

  Dane followed behind her with a grin that quickly faded.

  They scrounged fuel, ammo, and leftover rockets from one chopper to fully load the other; Eva rode shotgun, with Carlos at the helm. Dane, Nina, and McConn sat in the back cabin. They lifted off as the crescent moon vanished behind clouds.

  It wasn’t a long trip. Shortly the flatland where Oliva’s mansion sat appeared, and Carlos flipped switches to arm rockets. Troops on the ground saw the chopper and opened fire. Their muzzle flashes winked at Dane and company from the ground, sparks of light in the darkness. Bullets smacked against the chopper as Carlos dove and fired the rockets. Dane and Nina, at the Browning door guns once again, returned fire at targets of opportunity. The rockets struck the house, flames and debris blasting skyward; as Carlos flew over the fire, some of the debris pelted the helicopter.

  Dane swung the Browning .50-cal on a cluster of troops on the ground and hosed; the gunners twitched and spun as the slugs cut through them before falling to the ground.

  Carlos circled the mansion, Nina strafing the building with machinegun fire. Carlos fired more rockets at ground troops and swung around again for a direct shot at the mansion. More ground fire shook the chopper, and Carlos screamed as bullets hammered through the floor, cutting through his legs and stomach. Eva called his name as Carlos pitched forward, the chopper diving; Carlos raised his body enough to pull back on the stick, but the chopper continued a straight path toward the building.

  Carlos shouted, “Jump!” The helicopter drifted close to the ground. Carlos hauled back on the stick. The nose pitched up. “Jump!”

  Dane, Nina and McConn grabbed their gear and leapt from the chopper. Eva lunged forward and grabbed Carlos around the neck as the Huey hit the mansion like a brick through a window and the explosion obliterated an entire section of the house.

  Flames from the house and fires from the rocket blasts ke
pt the battlefield bright and smoky. There wasn’t much resistance. A few troops fired their way, but the trio returned fire as they ran for the house. They split up in the foyer; Dane raced up a curving staircase, squeezing off bursts from his short-barreled FN-FAL at two troops on the upper landing. He jumped over their fallen bodies, scanning for more troops before he advanced. He heard shooting elsewhere in the house but saw no other threat as he stepped through a pair of open double doors and entered a private study. He slung his FAL rifle and headed for the exposed wall safe on the opposite side of the room. It hadn’t been opened. Which meant Oliva hadn’t made it to study. Had he been killed or injured? Dane opened a pack on his belt and took out a small plastic explosive, which he attached to the safe. He set the digital timer for six seconds and ducked behind a chair. The blast ripped the door off the safe and sent it flying across the room, where it hit the other wall with a thud.

  Automatic weapons fire popped some more as Dane stuffed a ledger and a roll of papers under his fatigue blouse. He ran back to the hallway—still clear—and hustled back down the stairs. He continued through the house, linking up again with Nina and McConn, who reported some close shaves while Dane had been playing around upstairs. He suggested they scoot before the men outside devised a plan to come inside, and Nina led the way to a garage, where they climbed into a Hummer and McConn dropped behind the wheel.

  “I hope this ride is better than the last one,” Nina said. McConn started the motor. He crashed through the garage and sped along a concrete path to a closed gate. Dane and Nina fired out the windows at random targets. The steel gate whined and scraped against the Hummer as McConn crashed through. Dane and Nina peered out the back, saw the pursuing pickup and shouted for McConn to step on the gas.

  Nina blasted out the back window and Dane tossed a grenade at the pickup. The bomb exploded to one side. Gunfire from the truck punched into the Hummer. Dane lobbed another grenade. It exploded on the road in front of the truck, but the driver swerved, the side of the truck taking most of the blast. Nina fired at the truck’s tires; Dane pitched another grenade, his last, but the bomb bounced off the road and exploded in the bushes.

  Gunfire from the truck stitched the Hummer, tearing through the back seat but missing Nina and Dane. Dane reloaded his rifle and fired on the truck as Nina lobbed her first grenade, the blast missing.

  “Goin’ off-road!” McConn shouted, swinging the wheel left, the Hummer jolting as the tires gouged the ground. Nina tossed a grenade that blew down a tree, blocking the path. The truck crashed into the trunk.

  “We aren’t going to get very far this way,” Dane said, the dust from the dry ground enveloping the Hummer. “Do you have any—”

  “All I know is that truck isn’t behind us anymore,” McConn said.

  Nina looked out the back window. “Here comes another chopper!”

  The helicopter dived, sending a line of machinegun fire across the front of the Hummer, shredding the hood. The front end pitched forward and dug into the dirt, throwing McConn, Dane and Nina forward; the chopper flashed by overhead and started to turn.

  “Out!” Dane shouted, scrambling for a door handle. “Out, out, out!”

  The trio ran as the helicopter unloaded another salvo of machinegun fire that split the Hummer in two.

  Dane, Nina and McConn sprinted across open ground, heading for a rock formation. Dane looked over his shoulder to see the chopper swooping around again. They reached the rocks and climbed between them. The chopper flew over without firing; McConn tried to take a shot but could not line up his sights fast enough.

  “Why didn’t they shoot?” Dane said.

  “Over there!” Nina said, pointing. Two trucks in the distance stirred up a pair of dust clouds. Coming closer.

  The chopper approached again, slowed, and hovered over the rocks.

  “This can’t be good,” Dane said.

  The door gunner kept a hot muzzle and his steely eyes on them. The trucks moved closer. When they reached the rocks, the chopper dipped forward and took off the way it had come. Troops piled out of the trucks and ordered them to step away. They did as they were told.

  But not before Dane had a moment to jam the ledger and papers in a crevice.

  Pablo Oliva checked his watch as the driver steered onto the warehouse property. He didn’t want to spend too much time with his captives; he wanted to meet them, to see what all the fuss had been about, and send them to their maker before his daughter’s second show of the evening. As soon as he had received word of their capture, he ordered them brought to the warehouse. His last stunt, hanging two troublemakers from the international bridges, had caused such a stir, he wanted these three hung from there too.

  The driver braked the car in front of the main door, which was already open. Oliva told him to leave the car running and stepped out. One of his soldiers escorted him inside.

  The soldier guided Oliva along the open portion of the warehouse floor to the back office, where two more guards stood. Sitting on the floor were the three captives, their hands untied, but stripped of all weapons. Their pockets had been torn off and every possible hiding place exposed.

  Oliva smiled at the man with the close-cropped hair. One of his sleeves had been rolled back, and Oliva noted what looked like burn scars on his arm.

  “I had to meet you,” Oliva said. “I had to see who it was who inspired General Parra and his people. I admit you are not who I thought you’d be.”

  “Were you expecting that British guy?” Dane said.

  “I wasn’t even at the mansion, you know,” Oliva said. “That’s the value of good intelligence. Nice try, though.”

  Dane grimaced.

  “It’s been a dangerous couple of years down here,” Oliva said. “A lot of violence and death. Unnecessary, too. For some reason our society is consumed with the fight against people like me. But only a small portion of society. The rest only want to keep their heads down and survive long enough to see their grandchildren. People like you are a minority, and nobody cares. But you keep fighting as if it’s the most important thing in the world.”

  “You want a response?”

  “There are no more heroes in the world or causes worth fighting for,” Oliva said. “Why not enjoy your days, indulge yourself? Life is too short to mess with this unpleasantness.”

  “You’re just spinning wheels, pal.”

  “No, I am making a point. You have sacrificed your life for nothing. Why?”

  “I could explain, but you probably wouldn’t listen anyway,” Dane said. “And if you listened, you probably wouldn’t understand.”

  Oliva chuckled. “I know you wanted to avenge General Parra, and you made a terrific attempt. The game is over,” he said. To the troops: “Hang them from one of the bridges like the other two.”

  Pablo Oliva smiled and marched out.

  “Makes you wonder why he bothered,” Nina said.

  The troopers gestured with their weapons, and the trio stood up.

  “I’ll see him again,” Dane said.

  17

  Delayed Justice

  The motorboat chugged along the river with the two international bridges in the distance. At this time of night there were no cars crossing either bridge.

  One Zeta soldier steered the boat, while two others sat across from Dane, Nina and McConn. Their hands had been tied, but not behind their backs.

  Dane watched the bright lights of Laredo, Texas, on the other side of the border. He had never imagined that the last view he might see would be this side of Texas. He had no intention of dying tonight, but if the end had really come, there were a hundred other sights he would have rather been looking at.

  He raised an eyebrow at Todd McConn, who winked back.

  He said, “Can you steer this thing, Nina?”

  “I can do anything, lover,” she said.

  One of the troops raised his rifle.

  “Now!”

  Dane and McConn lunged at the troopers, knocking t
hem over the side, splashing into the cold water. Nina clutched her hands together and bashed the driver in the side of the face, shoving him over the side; she turned back to where Dane and McConn were still fighting in the water, splashing and grunting and disturbing the quiet night. The fight did not last long, and soon the pair climbed back into the boat, dripping wet but victorious.

  They let forty-eight hours tick by before venturing out again, and when they did leave, they took off in different directions. Dane had two people in town whom he wanted to see. Nina and McConn departed for the rock where Dane had left the information stolen from Oliva’s safe.

  There was nothing left to do but tie up the loose ends and hit the road. Parra’s troops were scattered to the four winds; Dane had no idea who would replace Carlos and Eva or, worse, how to find them. But he felt confident they would regroup and continue the fight. Someday.

  Hector’s café still stood. It had not been burned down. Dane regarded the place thoughtfully from the other side of the street, puffing on a cigar and watching customers come and go. He watched Hector through the front window as the proprietor wiped his counter and served customers.

  Dane finished the Te-Amo and tossed it in the street, crossing during a break in traffic. He entered. The bell above the door dinged; Hector looked up, turned away, and hurried to check each table to ensure that his customers were comfortable.

  Steve Dane took a stool at the bar. He traced a fingertip along a crack in the Formica top.

  Hector came around, clapped his hands together. “You’re back. Just you this time?”

  “Hello, Hector.”

  “You want a cerveza?”

  “How about the truth.”

  “I don’t—”

  Dane slid off the stool and opened his coat enough to show Hector the .45 hanging under his arm. “Let’s go in back a second.”