Ready to Kill

by Andrew Peterson

  Mind over matter.

  He opened his eyes and didn’t know how long he’d been in a trance, only that he’d been acutely aware of his surroundings at the same time and he’d heard no sounds from Raven.

  He said a thank-you to God for giving him the ability to fight off the hatred consuming his soul. He could now focus on winning the battle against Raven—not himself.

  It was time to kick some ass.

  With renewed confidence, he pulled the triangular ring.

  CHAPTER 35

  Franco peered around the corner into the right side of the drift and saw two light sticks. They lit the craggy cave in eerie, unmoving shadows. He was tempted to try another peace offering, but that would make him look weak. He’d given the intruder his last chance, and there was a fair possibility he was mortally wounded and would die without further help.

  Keeping his rifle up, Franco looked the other direction into the dark side of the drift. His goggles couldn’t detect anything recognizable.

  Wait, there was something down there, maybe fifteen yards away. He stared for a long moment. If he went in there to investigate, he’d be backlit by the light emanating from the other side.

  It felt like a trap, but with a fully automatic M-4, lots of ammo, and well-honed combat instincts, Franco felt certain he could spray the entire area before his prey got a bead on him.

  In a somewhat risky move, he crouched and reached up to activate his IR illuminator for a split second. If lurking eyes were down there, their pupils would reflect the invisible infrared flash and light up like a Christmas tree. He’d seen the effect many times. Then he remembered the guy had a pair of goggles on. Still, Franco decided it was an acceptable risk. He felt fairly confident he knew what the object was, but he needed to be certain.

  He twisted the knob for a split second and during the brief flare of light, he saw several things at once.

  An ore cart.

  A backpack hanging from it.

  And a trip wire made of fishing line.

  Oh, that’s clever, he thought. Just inside the drift, one side of a nylon fishing line was tied to the rail, and the other end was attached to an empty water bottle covered with bloody handprints. If he hadn’t activated his IR, he wouldn’t have seen the trip wire. He would’ve walked through it, yanking the plastic bottle free. Although harmless, it wasn’t silent.

  Finding the trip wire became a valuable discovery. If his opponent had eyes inside this drift, he wouldn’t have needed the booby trap. Franco knew there were several openings into secondary drifts on the right side. The discovery of that vein had led to an exceptionally high yield of gold per ton. He couldn’t remember how many openings there were, but they all lay to the right-hand side.

  His treasure was now within reach.

  Licking his lips, he stepped over the water-bottle booby trap and eased down the railroad ties toward the backpack hanging on the ore car.

  Like a spider Nathan waited, focusing on the opening below. The sudden blast of light startled him. From his elevated vantage point inside the short passage, he saw the rear half of the ore car flash for a split second, then nothing. Franco had activated his IR to look down this side of the passage. Since there wasn’t enough light coming from the light sticks on the opposite side to create a shadow, Nathan was 100 percent dependent on sound. He wanted to close his eyes, but he needed to know if Franco used his IR a second time. The tiny amount of light spilling in here from the two light sticks on the right-hand side of the crosscut wouldn’t allow Raven to see more than dark nebulous shapes in here.

  When the plastic water bottle remained silent, Nathan hoped Raven had discovered it.

  He waited through another minute of absolute silence, knowing Raven might be investigating the lighted side. Nathan thought he’d found the right balance between making the water-bottle trip wire too obvious versus too hard to find. He didn’t want Raven to trigger it; he wanted Raven to think he’d defeated it.

  Completely blind, Nathan focused solely on sound and hoped his mind could overrule his aching body.

  Moving deeper into the drift toward the ore car, Franco experienced a growing sense of calm. He knew he was backlit and vulnerable, but no bullets flew his way. Surely if the man he’d chased in here were looking down this passage from beyond the ore car, he would’ve fired by now.

  In five more steps, he’d be within reach of the backpack and wished he had x-ray vision. He’d be pissed if the damned thing was empty. With each slow step he took, his belief grew stronger that his enemy had abandoned the fight and left the gold behind. A wise move.

  He stopped about four paces short of his goal and held perfectly still. A field mouse couldn’t move in here without being heard.

  After ten seconds of utter silence he took another step.

  And felt the resistance on his right thigh.

  He froze, but it was too late.

  His skin crawled as he heard a rock slide, then fall to the floor. In the absolute silence, the sound was like a car alarm.

  He’d been had!

  Franco leveled his M-4 above the ore car, pulled the trigger, and swept it back and forth, spraying the entire passage.

  Nathan heard the rock plummet from the alcove and knew exactly where Raven was. Half a second later, his world erupted again as Raven emptied an entire magazine.

  Some of the bullets whizzed into the opening below him.

  If he’d been standing there, he would’ve been nailed.

  When the deafening salvo ended, Nathan tossed the stun grenade, started a mental countdown, and heard the grenade bounce off the wall next to the ore car.

  Two seconds.

  Nathan reached up and flipped on his IR.

  One second.

  Nathan timed it perfectly.

  He dropped down at the same instant the M84 detonated.

  The concussive blast took his breath away as white light bleached every surface.

  As if shimmering from a mirage, the air seemed to throb for an instant just before the deafening concussion slammed his ears.

  Nathan didn’t know how fast Raven would be able to reload his M-4, but no human being could withstand such a disruptive blast unscathed. The man had to be hammered into submission from the simultaneous assault on all his senses.

  Sig in hand, Nathan rushed through the opening.

  Raven appeared to be holding his stomach, bent over at the waist. His rifle hung uselessly from its sling.

  Nathan painted his laser on Raven’s bowed head. “Show me your hands!”

  Raven didn’t move.

  “Do it now!”

  Raven looked up a split second before Nathan saw the handgun.

  Nathan fired.

  The bullet punched Raven in the upper stomach. The man’s gun hand sagged, but he tried to bring it back up.

  Nathan fired again.

  Raven’s arm shuddered and the handgun fell. It clanked off the rail and came to rest on a wooden tie.

  “It’s over, Raven, don’t make me shoot you again.”

  “How do you . . . know that name?”

  “Have a seat right there and don’t move.”

  Raven plopped down and rested his back against the tunnel wall. His demeanor was that of resigned defeat. Blood poured from his arm wound, soaking his sleeve. His midsection was also getting wet. Raven had to know his wounds would be fatal without immediate treatment.

  Keeping his Sig against the side of Raven’s head, Nathan reached down and cycled the M-4. Empty. He checked Raven for additional weapons, found a knife in an ankle sheath, and tossed it and the handgun down the tunnel.

  “Who are you?”

  “You don’t recognize my voice?” Nathan pulled out a light stick and activated it. Carefully, he removed Raven’s NV visor, then his own.

  “Rojo? Is that you?�
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  “Yeah, it’s me.”

  Raven smiled through the pain, his face a sickly pale hue in the green light. “I wondered if I’d ever see you again. I guess I have my answer.”

  Nathan put the light stick down. “Why’d you do it? Why work for someone like Macanas?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “Give me the short version.”

  “I needed work.”

  “The truth, Raven.”

  “All right, I was bored.”

  Nathan considered that, and although he didn’t want to admit it, he understood it perfectly. He nodded at Raven’s wounded arm. “You took a bad shot.”

  “Brachial?”

  Nathan nodded.

  “Don’t tie it off.”

  Nathan didn’t respond.

  “How long?”

  Nathan squinted. “Ten minutes.”

  “Ten minutes,” Raven said slowly. “Will you stay with me?”

  Nathan sat cross-legged between the rails.

  Raven seemed remarkably calm given his circumstances. After a moment, he actually smiled. “Tell me something . . . Have you always wanted to be a sniper?”

  “No, not really. It just sorta happened.”

  Raven closed his eyes and didn’t say anything.

  Nathan knew he was waiting for more. “I wanted to be a stage actor, but my high school drama teacher told me I was too tall. My father didn’t like the idea either. What about you?”

  “I wanted to be an engineer on a train.”

  “I can’t picture it.”

  “It’s true, but it’s also ironic.”

  “How so?”

  Raven indicated with his head. “The train tracks.”

  Nathan waited.

  “The rails, they don’t let you stray.”

  “No, I suppose they don’t.”

  “Is Mayo here?”

  “Yes, he’s down below with Estefan, dealing with your other men.”

  “They’re dead then.”

  “Perhaps not.”

  “Is my cousin really going to die?”

  “I just said that to rile you. He’ll be okay.”

  “He’s had a tough life.”

  “Haven’t we all?”

  Raven went silent and closed his eyes again.

  Nathan asked, “Did you like being a shooter?”

  “If I say yes, does it make me a monster?”

  “No.”

  “Then what?”

  “There’s no simple answer to that.”

  “We’re the same then?”

  Nathan spoke with conviction. “I’ve been tormented by this subject for decades. Why should I feel bad about killing serial murderers and rapists, who included children in their sprees? I—we—ridded the world of the worst psychopaths imaginable. My mission down here wasn’t political; it was purely humanitarian.”

  “Nicaragua will always owe you for that.”

  “I don’t count favors I’m owed. As far as I’m concerned, no one owes me a thing.”

  “I like that attitude. Tell me something . . . did you like being a shooter?”

  Nathan wouldn’t lie to this man. He’d created Raven and owed him the truth. “Maybe I should’ve . . . disliked it more than I did.”

  Raven coughed and tried to smile. “We did our jobs. You were always a man of deep conscience, something I’ve known . . . is missing in me.”

  “You didn’t kill Estefan’s wife.”

  “No women. No kids.”

  “Well, then you just confirmed it’s there. You’ve just never embraced it. What’s your real name?”

  “Roberto Miravel. What about you?”

  “Nathan McBride.”

  “I knew you had some Irish blood, but I’d never hold it against you.”

  Nathan smiled, and they didn’t speak for a few seconds. “Is there anyone you want me to contact?”

  “No, not really. What are you doing to stay busy these days?”

  “I’m partners with Mayo in a private-security company.”

  “I’m betting you’ve pursued more . . .” Raven coughed. “More exciting ventures on the side, no?”

  “A few here and there. Maybe it’s in our blood. We’re like moths.”

  “Thank you for being honest with me. I need to tell you something about Macanas.”

  “What about him?”

  “You won’t like hearing it.”

  Nathan felt his skin tighten. “I’m listening.”

  “He’s the one who betrayed you to Montez.”

  Nathan grabbed Raven by the shirt and yanked him closer. Raven grunted in pain. “You know about that?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re lying, Raven.”

  “I’m not lying. Macanas and Montez knew each other.”

  “That’s horseshit. Why should I believe you?”

  “You said it yourself . . . ten minutes.”

  Nathan didn’t say anything; he didn’t trust himself.

  “Money.”

  “Money,” Nathan repeated.

  “Macanas stole Montez’s money. The money your CIA paid Montez to let you go.”

  Nathan was stunned. “How can you possibly know about that?”

  “Macanas was my recruiter. Viper’s too. All of the kilos.” Raven closed his eyes again. “He had ties with your government during Iran-Contra. Lots of money changed hands, but Macanas never got any of it. He was bitter—thought your government owed him.”

  “Are you saying Macanas and Montez worked together to capture me and then collect the ransom money?”

  “Yes.”

  “I was there for three weeks.” Nathan felt as though blood were going to burst from every pore in his body.

  “I didn’t know about it, or I would’ve tried to save you. I swear it. Macanas was really drunk one night and told me. All Montez was supposed to do was hold you, not torture you. Montez never found out Macanas double-crossed him.”

  “Let’s say I believe you, which I’m not sure I do. Why didn’t Macanas just kill Montez after stealing his money? Why leave a loose end like that?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Nathan’s mind raced. Why hadn’t Cantrell told him about Macanas? She had to know about this. He hated believing Cantrell withheld this and then asked him to come down here. No way. She’d never do that. Something was missing. Something that got Cantrell off the hook.

  “There’s more, but you must never tell Viper . . . Estefan.”

  Nathan waited.

  “Your word . . .”

  “All right, you have my word.”

  “Before the war, Pastor Tobias was in Macanas’s pocket when he worked for the government.”

  “When who worked for the government? Macanas or Tobias?”

  “Tobias. He negotiated the leases for most of the mines in Atlántico Norte. He’d been taking bribe money for years, giving Macanas inside information about land identified for gold mining.”

  “Here, in Jinotega or in Atlántico Norte?”

  “Both, but mostly here . . . Macanas has been acquiring land up here for years. He’s set to make millions from leasing it to large commercial operators next year.”

  Raven’s breathing began to slow, and his body shuddered.

  “Are you cold?”

  Raven nodded.

  “This doesn’t sit right with me.”

  “I didn’t think it would.”

  “No, I mean you. You’re dying in the dark while Macanas lives on in luxury.”

  “Since when has life . . . ever been fair?”

  “Point taken.”

  Raven’s voice grew weaker. “Everything you need to bury Macanas is in the lumber mill’s office. In the wall n
ext to the shower. You’ll see . . . fresh paint. I thought I might need it someday. It’s yours now.”

  “You were a good soldier, Raven.”

  “I cared about my work.”

  “It showed.”

  “I don’t . . . feel very good.”

  Raven reached out with his good hand, and Nathan grasped it.

  A few seconds later, his former student—his Frankenstein’s monster, a man he’d mistakenly hated—lost consciousness.

  That’s when Nathan noticed that a sense of time had slowly returned to his world. At some point, the needle of his pain clock had reversed direction and returned to the green. Maybe he’d sit here for a while. It seemed wrong to walk away from Raven. He didn’t think Harv would head up to their SP for at least ten more minutes, but he wasn’t sure. It felt good to just sit here and do nothing. He closed his eyes and listened to Raven’s breathing, knowing it wouldn’t last much longer.

  Thinking about his former student caused sadness. The man slumped against the wall had made some bad choices. He’d left the railroad tracks and ventured into lawless territory. Raven said he’d lacked a moral compass, but Nathan knew otherwise. A truly bad seed would’ve killed Estefan’s wife without a second thought. Was there an honor code in cartels? Did they have standards they wouldn’t betray? Nathan didn’t know the answer, but he wasn’t above the question. He’d bent the rules himself and ventured into his own landscape of lawless territory. Many times. The train tracks didn’t always take you where you had to go. Did the ends justify the means? When can laws be defensibly broken? Sometimes? Never? Always? He knew life couldn’t be defined by a book of rules. It simply wasn’t possible. Sooner or later, everyone broke one of society’s bones.

  Nathan didn’t know how long he’d been in here, but it seemed like hours. He wished he could doze off and sleep for several days, but alas, this wasn’t over yet. He reached over and gently removed the gold bar from Raven’s pocket along with one other critical item he’d need later. He was about to get up when Harv’s voice boomed into the tunnel.

  “Nathan! Are you in there?”

  “I’m here,” he yelled.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes.” He listened to Harv’s running footfalls grow louder and louder. “In here, on the left.”