Ready to Kill

by Andrew Peterson

  “Yeah, you’re right. It’s a red flag. My instinct says hold off on doing that for now. If word gets back to Macanas that Estefan Delgado is asking about his personal information, bad things will happen. If we run out of options, you can talk to your police friend as a last resort. We may be able to make that work for us, not against. You said you’ve already mentioned your father’s murder to him, but you didn’t name any suspects, did you?”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “Then so far, no one knows you’re Tobias’s son. I’d like to keep it that way.”

  “There are people in Santavilla who know, but they have no reason to mention me. From what I remember reading in my father’s letters, they don’t like Macanas much even though he gives them work.”

  After a few seconds Nathan said, “Pull over at the next open store or roadside stand you see. We all need food. Harv and I haven’t eaten much since yesterday. We’d prefer to save the MREs we brought with us. We’ll wait in your truck. Grab a case of bottled water too.”

  Over the next half hour, Nathan watched the landscape gradually brighten, revealing the forest’s true nature—a mixture of every shade of green imaginable. The landscape looked similar to that of other tropical forests. Every so often they passed a rusting sheet-metal hut or decaying barn, but there was no sign of human presence. Small farms and ranches lined the road, but from the look of things, most of these people lived in abject poverty.

  “It’s getting pretty light out,” Nathan said. “We should change clothes and remove our face paint.”

  Nathan pulled Harv’s clothes from his backpack and handed them forward. Both of them swapped their MARPATs for cargo shorts, T-shirts, and flip-flops. Aside from their height, they ought to blend into the civilian population fairly well. Bill Stafford had made the wardrobe suggestions based on what the majority of Nicaraguan locals wore. Blue jeans were popular but bulkier, and they had limited space in their backpacks. Although they hadn’t anticipated needing civilian clothes, they were glad they’d brought them. Nathan also applied a fair amount of brown skin paint in an effort to darken his skin and cover the contours of his facial scars.

  Finally, Estefan made the right turn onto a much better road. Its surface, although rough, looked to be regularly bladed by a road grader. They drove through village-like pockets of civilization where no more than several dozen people lived, while other towns looked to be home to several hundred. None of them qualified as cities in the traditional definition. Unfortunately, none of the places where they could buy food were open yet. Their hunger would have to wait. Nathan expected Santavilla to look similar to one of these towns. Most of them had churches, general stores, small shops, taverns, cafes, and painted-plywood roadside stands.

  Nathan kept checking his cell, but it didn’t register a strong signal yet. They were still in a predominately rural area. He didn’t want to make a call to Cantrell until they had at least two bars of coverage. Nathan was sure he’d get a better signal further south. Until then, Cantrell would have to wait. The delay turned out to be fairly short. Fifteen miles closer to Managua, his phone picked up three bars.

  “We’ve got coverage, but it may not last,” Nathan said. “Estefan, see if you can find a place to pull over where Harv and I can get out without drawing too much attention.”

  “I’ll turn onto a side road and drive a safe distance away from the highway.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Harv, will you grab my cell from the glove box?”

  “Hey, no texting and driving,” Nathan said.

  “I never do,” Estefan said. “I’ll check it when you guys climb out to make your call.”

  Estefan found a good spot and made the turn. Barbed wire lined both sides of the road, but no animals were present. The primitive dirt track didn’t show any signs it had been used since the last rain.

  “There doesn’t appear to be any place to turn around. How far do you want me to go?”

  “The road curves to the left in that valley up ahead. We don’t want to drive into someone’s front yard. Let’s go another five hundred yards. Backing out to the highway shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “For who?” Estefan said with a smile.

  Although their friend was emotionally frayed, he seemed to be in good spirits. Nathan didn’t want to ruin the mood by talking about the difficulty of what Estefan planned to do, but sooner or later, Nathan would need to reaffirm they didn’t have unlimited time down here to conduct a prolonged surveillance of Macanas’s gold-mining operations. At this point, they didn’t even know where the guy lived. If Macanas possessed the kind of wealth Estefan suspected, he probably owned several homes. Unless Estefan had a reliable source within law enforcement, they’d have to rely on Cantrell, and if she couldn’t produce anything on Macanas, they’d have to start from scratch and learn what they could from people who lived in Santavilla. Nathan didn’t like their odds.

  Harv grabbed Estefan’s cell from the glove compartment, handed it to his friend, and got out of the truck. He and Nathan walked several pickup lengths farther up the road. They were well screened from the highway by chest-high weeds and bushes growing along the base of the fence. The fields on both sides of the road had been plowed, but whoever did the tractor work had kept a safe distance from the wire.

  Nathan tapped Cantrell’s number and waited, allowing her phone to ring ten times before hanging up.

  Within seconds, their phone received a text from Bill Stafford’s number.

  ten minutes

  Nathan looked at his watch. “Let’s get going.”

  “We may lose our cell signal farther down the road.”

  “The sun’s coming up. We’re not hanging around here. Besides, the call isn’t that urgent.” They walked back to the truck.

  Estefan backed out to the road. “When you guys get your return call, I’ll pull over and get out.”

  “Good idea,” Nathan said. “I guess we should’ve done that back there.”

  “No harm done,” Estefan said.

  A few miles farther south, they entered the outskirts of a larger town that looked to be home to several thousand people. Nathan checked his cell. Three bars. “It’s still early, but with a little luck we’ll find a place to grab a bite. Keep an eye out for a diner or roadside stand. At this point, I’d settle for anything other than an energy bar.” Near the center of town at a major intersection, Nathan looked around and saw what they needed. “Make a right here.”

  “I see it,” Estefan said.

  They pulled up to a curio and fruit stand where the owner was still setting up shop. Estefan rolled his window down and asked if she was willing to open a little early. She nodded and continued unloading wares from her van.

  “I’ll get a good mix of fruit. If she’s got some pork jerky, I’ll get some. Nuts too.”

  “Sounds good,” Nathan said. “Offer her a nice tip for opening early but not too big. We don’t want to be remembered.”

  “No problem. Give me a wave if you get your call while I’m out there. I’ll delay getting back in.”

  After Estefan climbed out, Harv suggested sending a text to Stafford saying now would be a good time to talk.

  A few seconds later, Nathan’s phone rang. He issued a single word. “Chromium.”

  “I’ve got you on speaker. Bill’s with me.” Cantrell’s voice sounded clear and unbroken.

  “We’re secure. Thank you for sending in the recons.”

  “You’re welcome. I wouldn’t have inserted you without them, but I couldn’t let you know ahead of time. Their presence in-country is as unofficial as yours.”

  “We appreciate it and understand.”

  “What’s your status?”

  “As we suspected, our messenger is a former kilo grad. A shooter, not a spotter. His name is Estefan Delgado. He’s the man who helped Harv rescue me from Mo
ntez’s camp. His father was Pastor Tobias.”

  “Do you trust him?”

  He exchanged a glance with Harv. “Yeah, we do.”

  “What about Raven?”

  “That’s where it gets complicated. Estefan can’t tell us with one hundred percent certainty that Raven’s responsible for his father’s murder, but he’s given us a strong argument.” Nathan relayed all the information about the sniper killings in the area.

  “Given everything I just heard, I’m tending to agree with Mr. Delgado. It sounds like Raven’s your man.”

  “Estefan wants to kill him.”

  “And . . . ?”

  “The man risked his life to rescue me.”

  “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  From the fruit stand, Estefan looked over. Harv simulated a phone to his ear. Estefan nodded understanding.

  “If you’re willing,” said Nathan, “we could use some help. We need whatever you can dig up on a man named Paulo Macanas. He’s a landowner who runs some legitimate businesses. He owns a lumber mill in Santavilla and operates some cattle ranches and coffee farms. He also owns several gold mines. Gold is the reason Estefan asked for our help.”

  Nathan gave Cantrell a quick overview of what Estefan told them about Santavilla, the gold-mining operation, and the connection to the slaying of Tobias Delgado.

  She said, “On the surface, it doesn’t sound like a good enough reason for murder.”

  “We thought the same thing and pushed Estefan a little. Because there were multiple shootings in Raven’s old territory, he told us he’d asked his father to see what he could learn. I think it’s fair to assume Tobias discovered something and got himself killed over it.”

  “Based on everything you know at this point, is there a national security risk?”

  “My gut says no. On the surface, it appears to be a personal issue between Raven and Estefan.” Nathan filled her in on what Estefan had shared about the summit.

  “We’ll look into that. So what’s your next move?”

  “We’re heading down to Estefan’s house in Managua. His father wrote hundreds of letters about what was happening in Santavilla. We’re going to read them and hope they give us something useful. We’re also going to access some maps and aerials to get a better handle on Macanas’s operation.”

  “How much additional time do you need?”

  “I don’t know, maybe a few days. We made it clear to Estefan we can’t conduct a prolonged surveillance of Macanas’s operation.”

  “I’ve got your current GPS location around eighty-five miles northeast of Managua.”

  “We’ve been driving for a while. In a straight line, that distance sounds about right.”

  “I want you to give Bill Stafford regular updates. He’ll brief me.”

  “No problem.”

  “Give me as much lead time as possible for your extraction. I’ll have to set it up again. Unless something happens to change it, your extraction point will be the same coordinates as planned.”

  “Are you giving us the nod on Raven?”

  “That’s your call. I won’t second-guess you on it.”

  “Understood.”

  “I’ll have Stafford update you if we find anything on Macanas.”

  “Apparently he owns a helicopter. I wouldn’t be surprised if he has a helipad at his house. From what Estefan told us, he’s fairly wealthy.”

  “I’m making a note. We might be able to do something with it. Try to keep your profile as small as possible.”

  Nathan sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Will do. We’ll check in with Stafford after we’ve looked at the letters.”

  “When was the last time you two slept?”

  “It’s been a while. The road leaving alpha was pretty rough. We should be okay from here on. We’ll catch a few z’s on the drive into Managua.”

  “Make sure you do.”

  Nathan ended the call. “Any doubts about her at this point?”

  “Honestly, it’s hard not to like her.”

  Nathan waved Estefan over. “But liking and trusting are two different things, right? Come on, Harv. She didn’t have to arrange the marines. I think it’s a clear statement. Setting that up with JSOC couldn’t have been easy.”

  “Easy enough. All she did was make a call or two.”

  “You know what I mean. She put troops in harm’s way. Yes, that’s her job, but that doesn’t make it easy. Cut her some slack. She’s earned our confidence.”

  “If you say so.”

  “Yeah, I do. And so do you.”

  Estefan climbed in and handed the box of fruit back to Nathan.

  “Good job, Estefan. Keep the change.”

  “How generous of you. Our merchant was quite thankful for the tip. She had some homemade pastries, so I bought a couple dozen. We’ll stop for some jerky closer to Managua. I know a good spot.”

  “How long to your house from here?”

  “From here . . . maybe two and a half hours, depending on traffic.”

  “Harv, we should try to get some rack time.”

  “Yeah, that sounds good.”

  They all saw and heard it at the same time.

  A Nicaraguan National Police pickup turned right at the center of town and drove straight toward them.

  CHAPTER 15

  “Everyone stay calm,” Nathan said. “Estefan, be ready to punch it. We aren’t being taken into custody. If we have to bolt, we’ll head back toward alpha and try to lose him on the far side of town through those S turns.” Nathan began formulating a plan. If they had to evade the cop, they’d need to disable his vehicle without injuring him.

  The NNP pickup’s front end lifted as it accelerated down the narrow street. They all collectively held their breath as the pickup screamed past. Its driver didn’t even look at them.

  “Damn it,” Harv said. “I really hate that feeling.”

  “Let’s get going,” Nathan said. He looked behind and saw the cop make a left about a hundred yards farther down the road.

  “No argument here,” Estefan said. He made a U-turn and drove back to the intersection.

  “We’re all on edge,” Nathan said.

  “We’ll be able to relax a little when we reach my house. We can pull into the garage. No one will see you guys. I’ll call my wife and ask her to head over to her sister’s and spend the day over there. She knows I get nervous when she’s alone for more than a few days.”

  “Is your house somewhat secluded?” Nathan asked.

  “It’s not extremely close to other houses. Most of the lots are about three acres. I’m in a semirural area at the top of a ridgeline overlooking Managua. It has a nice view of the city. Don’t worry. We’ll have the place to ourselves.”

  Nathan handed a banana to Harv. “Won’t it be . . . I don’t know . . . a little awkward? Asking your wife to leave for the day?”

  “Not really. She’s been wanting to visit her sister for a few weeks. We just talked about it before I left to meet you guys. I’ll tell her I got delayed. She’ll be fine with it.”

  “Sounds good. Nate and I could use showers and some serious rack time. That hump through the jungle took a toll on us.”

  “Getting old?” Estefan asked.

  “Just drive, amigo.”

  When Estefan pulled into his garage and closed the door, Nathan felt a tremendous sense of relief at not having to worry about prying eyes any longer. It would be nice to unwind for a spell. All three of them needed hygiene and sleep—in that order. Neither he nor Harv had gotten more than six hours in the last two days. They couldn’t function indefinitely like this. Sooner or later, fatigue would win the battle and shut their brains down. Nathan had been through longer periods without sleep, but there was no reason to push it right now. As tempting as it was to dig into Tobias’s le
tters, it could wait. Estefan agreed and threw their MARPATs and underclothes into the washing machine. Since none of Estefan’s wardrobe would fit Nathan, he had to settle for a pair of Estefan’s tighty-whities, and the damned things were two sizes too small.

  When he stepped out of the bathroom, Harv gave him an amused look.

  “Don’t even think it.”

  Harv feigned innocence. “What?”

  Estefan’s expression registered shock, but he recovered quickly.

  Nathan held up a hand. “If either of you say anything, you’ll die slowly.”

  “What’s there to say?” Estefan said. “I think a couple of things speak for themselves. What do you think, Harv? Can he get a job downtown?”

  “In a heartbeat.”

  “I’m going to kill you guys.”

  Estefan crossed his arms. “What are you going to do—dance us to death?”

  “That would do the trick,” Harv said. “The man has no rhythm. It’s an ugly thing to watch.”

  This was hopeless. Until the load of laundry was finished, Nathan would have to settle for looking like a male stripper. He issued a dismissive wave and left the room, heading for the kitchen. He knew anything he said could and would be used against him, so he chose to remain silent.

  In the kitchen, he powered down a couple of pastries and chased them with a glass of milk and two mangoes. Feeling more composed, he found Harv in one of the spare bedrooms, stretched out on top of a beautiful quilt. If Estefan’s wife had made it, she was a skilled artist.

  “I’ll be on the couch,” Nathan said.

  “Don’t forget to warn Estefan about waking your ass up with a broom. I’m pretty sure he wants to keep all his teeth.”

  “Cute, Harv. I can always count on you for moral support.”

  “Sleep well, partner.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  Thankfully, his inner demons took the afternoon off. Sleep came in chunks, an hour or so at a time, but sleep was sleep, and Nathan took it.

  Right on time, the cell’s alarm awoke him at 1700 hours.

  He needed coffee; they were facing another long evening. He found Harv in the kitchen, standing at the counter next to the range-oven combo.