Ready to Kill

by Andrew Peterson

  He froze when he realized he’d forgotten something critical.

  Dogs.

  He should’ve checked for them at the ore-processing plant as well.

  If there were dogs outside the lumber mill’s office, they might hear his approach, even over the compressor’s humming. The TI would be better to see their heat signatures, so he switched devices. Watching for movement, Harv pulled his suppressed Sig, crouched, and issued a soft, high-pitched whistle. He waited a few seconds before repeating it. He knew his whistle might be heard by humans, but it was a risk worth taking. A tactical dog, or even a junkyard mutt, could put a world of hurt on him if he missed shooting it during its attack run—not a nice thought. When no dogs appeared, he hustled over to the office’s wall and nearly tripped over a rusted wheelbarrow concealed by weeds. He told himself to slow down. The fact that no sentries were present out here presented only two possibilities. They were either unwilling or unable to come outside. Perhaps Raven had given them orders to stay put. In a few minutes, they wouldn’t be getting any more orders, period. They were about to be cut off from the outside world. Harv saw where the coaxial cable disappeared through the wall. Clipping it with the wire cutters would be easy.

  “I’m in place at the lumber mill’s office. There’s a satellite dish. I’m standing by to cut its coaxial cable on your mark.”

  “Good work, Harv. Estefan, ninety seconds.”

  CHAPTER 28

  Franco fully expected to have heard from his men at the lumber mill by now, and his patience was stretched to the breaking point. What were they doing up there? He didn’t like being in the dark. The last update he’d received was fifteen minutes old. His bean-counting cousin inside the mill hadn’t reported hearing any additional gunshots. The three men who’d gone outside to investigate the single gunshot hadn’t come back yet. Franco felt uneasy about the situation, but getting irritated accomplished nothing. Santavilla was a small town, but it covered a huge area. Men on foot wouldn’t be able to patrol its entire expanse quickly. It could easily take forty-five minutes to an hour. And it was possible the initial gunshot could’ve been a farmer shooting or scaring off an intrusive animal. He was about to call the lumber mill again when his flip phone rang. He patched it through his BluLink adapter.

  “Antonia, what’s happening up there?”

  “I think he killed your men from the lumber mill. I’m really scared he’s going to kill me too!”

  “Antonia, slow down and tell me—”

  “He just saw me! I have to go!”

  Nathan slammed the pay phone into its cradle. He’d been holding it for Antonia so he could also hear it. He keyed his radio. “Cut the lines now. You both copy?”

  “Copy. It’s toast,” Estefan said.

  “Likewise,” Harv added.

  Nathan scanned the immediate area as he prepared to escort Antonia back to the motel. The call with Franco served its purpose, but not in the way he’d planned. Nathan had heard a distinctive humming noise coming from Franco’s end of the call. It was a sound Nathan knew well and it came from a very specific place: the cockpit of a helicopter.

  Franco was already in the air.

  Franco heard a click, then nothing. “Antonia, are you there? Antonia!”

  Shit. Things were spiraling out of control. Franco called the pay phone back and let it ring ten times. No one answered at the lumber mill either. Where were they? The answering machine should pick up the call—unless it can’t. He called the mill again with the same result. The ore-processing center was also unreachable by phone. Like the lumber mill, its answering machine failed to pick up the call. The phone line had to be down, and Franco knew why.

  Well played, Viper.

  Using his other phone clipped to his knee-board, he sent an urgent e-mail to the lumber mill’s office.

  If Viper killed his cousin, he’d make certain the bastard died an agonizing death.

  And what about Antonia? She said he’d seen her.

  He called his second-in-command at Macanas’s ranch in southern Jinotega. “Pastor Tobias’s son has made some trouble for us. Get Jaime and our three best men ready to go. I’ll be there in a few minutes. See if you can reach them by phone and patch me into a three-way call. Try to e-mail them. I want to know what’s happening up there.”

  “Right away, sir.”

  The air conditioner’s compressor on the north side of the office worked against Harv, severely hampering his ability to hear the presence of the enemy. He looked inside the Range Rover. If the vehicle had an alarm, it didn’t appear to be armed. He felt the hood for engine warmth and realized it was a pointless gesture—he’d done it purely out of habit. When he rounded the corner in a crouch, the drone of the AC unit grew even louder as he moved north along the office’s east wall. Identical in size and height, two more windows glowed around their perimeters. He ducked beneath them, reached the northeast corner, and peered around the corner. From here he could see the compressor unit and the mammoth form of the lumber mill’s main building. Rather than continue into the illuminated cone created by the light mounted on the building’s wall, he backtracked to the SUV, where it was much quieter. He still needed to clear the west side of the office. Since he hadn’t seen a door, it had to be on that side of the building. He was about to place an ear to the stucco when he heard the buzz of conversation. Whoever was inside didn’t seem too concerned about keeping their voices low.

  Nathan’s voice on the radio interrupted his thoughts. “We’re gonna have company soon. During Antonia’s call, I heard an unmistakable hum in the background. Raven had his phone patched into the helicopter’s NavCom, I’m certain of it.”

  Harv took a knee. “I’m hearing voices inside the lumber mill’s office. How much time do we have?”

  “Antonia made her initial call to Raven around forty-five minutes ago. Depending on how accurate your estimate of ninety minutes is, we’re halfway there. We can’t assume the helicopter or Raven were in Managua when Antonia called, so we could be looking at a much shorter time frame. Hang on a sec.”

  Harv waited through twenty seconds of silence.

  “Antonia doesn’t know where Raven was when she first called. He could be incoming at any moment. Like we discussed, I doubt he’ll land at the lumber mill, even with the screen fencing. It doesn’t conceal him from an elevated SP.”

  “I need a few more mikes over here. I’ll make it quick.”

  Nathan continued. “Estefan, park your truck behind the church, out of sight as best you can, and double-time back here. I need eyes outside.”

  “On my way.”

  “I’m going radio silent,” Harv said. “Three mikes.”

  “Copy. Three mikes.”

  Harv heard the urgency in Nate’s voice but returned his focus to the office. Surely Raven had called his men about Estefan’s presence in town. Shouldn’t they be concerned in there? Their three friends had been gone for a long time. Maybe they’d been drinking. Tobias’s letters mentioned a chronic alcohol problem in Santavilla.

  A more realistic and chilling explanation entered Harv’s mind—they had a sentry out here watching the area. It would explain why the men inside weren’t concerned about their voice levels, but it didn’t explain why Harv hadn’t been spotted by now. He ducked below the glowing windows and peered around the southwest corner. He was surprised when he saw no one. He smelled it then, the unmistakable odor of a cigarette.

  Someone was out here.

  He looked to the southwest and saw several houses, but the closest one sat at least one hundred yards away. The smoke he’d smelled seemed too concentrated to have originated from there, but the logging trucks were parked in that direction.

  Harv tried to visualize the layout of the mill in relationship to the rest of the village. As he put the map together in his mind, he realized the mill’s office, the truck parking area, and t
he motel were all roughly aligned on the same vector. If Raven’s men did have a sentry posted out here, and if they believed Estefan was at the motel, then the trucks would provide a good position from which to monitor an approach from the motel.

  Relying on the technology of his NV goggles, he turned the gain to maximum and kept his attention fixed on the area. He’d seen vehicle taillights reflect the glow of a cigarette before. Come on, he thought, I need a break here. He was about to do it the hard way and approach the lot without knowing where to start when the taillights of every truck came to life for several seconds before dimming and winking out. And the farthest left taillight was the brightest.

  He switched to the TI.

  “Got you,” Harv said. He now knew exactly where the sentry was—sitting in a backhoe and facing the motel. As luck would have it, the machine was parked in the middle of an expanse of gravel.

  He could attempt a stealthy approach to the sentry’s position, but it would be next to impossible to traverse the gravel silently. Adding to the degree of risk, he’d be stuck out in the open for most of the crossing. If the sentry turned around to check his six, Harv would be blown and he’d have to shoot the guy, something Nathan wanted to avoid.

  He keyed his radio. “There’s a sentry in the truck parking area on the south end of the mill’s property. I’ll need Estefan’s help if you want me to take him down without shooting him.”

  “Affirm. Nonlethal force unless absolutely necessary. Estefan, coordinate with Harv. I’ll sit tight with the girl.”

  “I’m parking behind the church right now.”

  Harv said, “Estefan, bring G3’s assault rifle with you. How long?”

  “Two mikes.”

  “Standing by. Two mikes.”

  Raven made a flawless approach to Macanas’s compound in southern Jinotega. He set the Bell 429 down on the concrete pad, throttled down to idle, and watched his men jog over from the small hangar. Ducking low, they climbed into the passenger compartment. The ship could carry seven passengers, but he wanted only five men, including himself, for tonight’s operation.

  Thirty seconds after touching down, he lifted off and flew a course of 18 degrees toward Santavilla.

  Fortunately, Macanas spent the majority of his time at his mansion in Managua, and that’s where he was right now. Raven didn’t plan to tell his boss the Tobias situation had escalated. Antonia said she’d thought Estefan had killed his men. She hadn’t said it with certainty, though. Either way, he intended to end this unfortunate chain of events tonight and bury Estefan Delgado.

  Harv’s ear speaker came to life with Estefan’s voice. “I’m ready to go.”

  “Head north along the main road, and let me know when you have the lumber trucks in sight. Can you duplicate that same whistle Franco’s men used?”

  “Absolutely, it’s not difficult.”

  “Practice a few times, but not loudly. The digital pattern on your combat uniform is slightly different from what Franco’s men wear, but the darkness works in our favor.”

  “What do you think spooked the guy at the gas station?”

  “It’s hard to say, but it was probably my size. I’m not as big as Nathan, but none of Franco’s men are over six feet. It could have been my body language. These guys know each other well. They’ve been living in the barracks together. Here’s what we’re gonna do to avoid what happened before.” Harv laid out his plan. “Nate?”

  “I think it’s solid. Look, we don’t have a book of rules in play here. I’d like to avoid more killing, but if the sentry makes an aggressive move, you drop him, Harv. Clear?”

  “Copy that. I think if we play this just right, it should work.”

  “I’ll let you know when I have the trucks in sight,” Estefan said.

  “You’ll be able to see them once you’re past the ore-processing plant. They’ll be on your right at two o’clock—you can’t miss them. The sentry is on the east side of the parking area, sitting in the backhoe’s seat. He’ll be able to see and hear you as soon as you’re past the processing plant.”

  Guillermo was bored to tears. What a total waste of time. Jaime and the others were probably laying their girlfriends while he sat in this lousy backhoe and watched a sleeping town. Someone had fired a gun—big deal. Franco’s paranoia went beyond ridiculous—the guy saw demons around every corner. Guillermo tossed his cigarette butt and fired up another. At least it wasn’t raining. He was about to climb down and stretch his legs when he caught movement to his left and focused on the spot. It looked like someone was slowly walking up the road using a cane.

  He leapt from the backhoe and hurried over to a lumber truck, taking cover behind it. What idiot would be walking down the road in the middle of the night?

  Ducking slightly, Guillermo eased down the length of the truck’s flatbed for a better look. When he reached the cab, he heard the familiar whistle Franco had taught them.

  Harv keyed his radio. “He’s on the move, Estefan.”

  Estefan had untucked the front of his shirt to conceal the radio clipped to his belt. Feigning a stomach wound, he bent at the waist and used the deception to respond. “I’m ready.”

  “He’s coming around the truck nearest to you. You’ll have a clear view of him in five seconds.”

  Estefan clicked his radio and used the assault rifle as a crutch to take another labored step. He knew the darkness prevented the sentry from seeing any real detail.

  Weakly, he issued the whistle again.

  The sentry called out, “Jaime? Is that you?”

  Estefan dropped the rifle and fell to his hands and knees.

  “What’s wrong with you?”

  Completing the act, Estefan collapsed to his left shoulder.

  The guy cursed, slung his rifle over his shoulder, and ran out from between the trucks.

  Harv couldn’t have played it better himself. Estefan’s act was totally believable.

  The sentry ran over to Estefan and bent down.

  In return, Estefan swept his foot and took the man to the ground.

  Harv abandoned all stealth and sprinted across the gravel.

  The two men were locked in a wrestling contest when Harv arrived. The sentry had a grip on Estefan’s throat and drove his knee at Estefan’s crotch, but Estefan closed his legs in time to avoid what would’ve been a crippling blow.

  Estefan elbowed the guy in the nose and seized the guy’s groin. The man howled under the sudden compression but didn’t let go of Estefan’s neck.

  Screw this, Harv thought, and he pistol-whipped the sentry on the side of the head hard enough to draw blood.

  The guy reacted by thrusting his foot at Harv’s knee. The pistonlike move nearly caught him off guard. Had he not taken the weight off his leg in time, the blow would’ve sprained the joint. Fortunately, the force of the kick harmlessly swung his leg around. Harv recovered his balance and kicked the guy in the ribs. Amazingly, Estefan’s throat remained connected to the guy’s hand. Drawing on a hiss for strength, the guy tried desperately to twist away from Estefan’s grip on his testicles.

  Harv admired the sentry’s toughness, but enough was enough. He clocked the guy again, producing a dropped-melon sound. That sounded bad, he thought and hoped he hadn’t swung too hard. He didn’t want the man unconscious, only stunned.

  The sentry grunted before going limp.

  Estefan coughed and spit blood. He shoved the guy aside and half laughed. “Damn, Harv, it’s a good thing you got here when you did, I might’ve killed the SOB. How’s my lip?”

  “Not bad. Your teeth okay?”

  Estefan tongued his mouth. “I think so. The asshole nailed me with an elbow on the way down. Shit, he was fast.”

  “I saw that. Do you have any concussion symptoms?”

  “No, it just stings.”

  “Don’t worry. You did ok
ay.”

  “Let’s just say I was glad to see you . . . And leave it at that.”

  “Deal. Let’s get him out of the road. Grab an arm. I’ll get his rifle.”

  They dragged him over to the trucks and sat him up against a tire.

  Harv updated Nathan via radio. “We took the sentry down without shooting him.”

  “Can he answer questions?”

  “Barely.”

  “Do whatever’s necessary to obtain information you can use to secure the office and barracks . . . in short order.”

  Harv caught Nate’s unspoken meaning. “Understood.”

  Their prisoner didn’t want to cooperate at first, but two dislocated fingers convinced him otherwise. According to the sentry, there weren’t any other men outside. The barracks was empty, but there were two more men in the office. One of them was a white shirt, in command of the men in Santavilla. The other was an accountant, a bean counter who wouldn’t offer any real resistance.

  Their field interrogation complete, Harv moved quickly, removing the man’s pants and slicing the legs into long ribbons. He used them like makeshift lengths of rope to both gag their prisoner and tie his hands and feet together behind his back. He and Estefan then dragged him across the gravel and left him twenty feet short of the office.

  Harv whispered, “I’ll take the right. It’s about the size of a two-car garage in there, so clear your nine o’clock first. Your head okay?”