Because it could incriminate us. Devil will be well aware there’re two less people walking the earth right now, but he won’t want to know the details.
That’s confirmed when he walks in and takes the spare seat. Even before he sits, he looks pointedly around. “You’ve got info. I don’t want to hear anything about how you obtained it. Rumour, I’m putting it down to.”
Prez shoots his handwritten notes down the table. Not going far enough, Viper gives it a helping hand, the paper passes from brother to brother until it’s in Devil’s hands. The unscarred side of his face curves. “Christ! You’ve hit the bloody mother lode. Not bad for a bunch of amateur arseholes.”
Blade passes my knife back, grabs his own, spins it and stops it when it’s pointing at the Englishman. “I object to the use of the word ‘amateur’,” he says in all seriousness.
Devil shakes his head as chuckles go around. He holds up his hand. “Your show, Drummer. But I think we need to start planning. Mouse,” he waves toward me.
“Chief,” Shooter interrupts.
I leap out of my chair, the knife Blade passed back in my hand, and I’m around behind Shooter before he knows what’s happening. I tangle my hand in his hair, and pull his head back…
“Shooter! You’d fuckin’ deserve it. But I ain’t getting blood on this floor. Too damn hard to get off. Mouse. Sit the fuck down.”
“Has he pissed himself?” Rock inquires.
“’Course I haven’t fucking…”
“Shut up!” Prez yells. Then his voice goes back to normal volume. “Devil, excuse this bunch of arseholes.” His use of the English word and the emphasis he puts on it has us in stitches again. Until we catch sight of his face. Suddenly I find I’m far more interested in what Devil, sitting at the other end of the table, has to say.
Devil continues as though such an interruption is normal in his life. “I’ve got a team ready to go, Drummer. Twelve men. And a plane. You know who’s coming with?”
“There’ll be six of us. Mouse, obviously. Myself. Blade, Viper, Marvel and Dollar.” Prez looks around at each of the men named. They’re all nodding their heads, fulfilling the promise they made to me in Los Angeles. I’m filled with emotion for my brothers.
Truth is, taking a life like I had, had caused me some regret. I’d stood in the shower watching another man’s blood run down the drain, wondering what I’d turned into. Coming into church, my doubts had been swept away by the jokes and now the commitment of the men around me.
Rock’s putting up his hand, Beef, after a silent exchange between them, raises his too. “Want us?” they both offer at once.
Prez goes to answer, but Devil gets in first. “Eighteen ought to be plenty.”
A plan had been formulating in my head. “Devil, Prez. Mind if I say something?”
Prez opens his hands wide, Devil just dips his head. “The way they were describing the compound. It sounds hard to get out of, but not necessarily to get into. The security seems to be on the inside to prevent escape. They’re relying on their location and secrecy to guard the compound. Sure, there’s an armed guard on the wall by the gate, but that sounds about all.”
“Mouse has got a point,” Devil agrees. “Don’t want to underestimate El Procurador, but it could be his men are more warders than fighters. More used to controlling women they hold there, than heading off a direct attack.”
“As you say,” Prez’s eyes have narrowed, “but we can’t afford to miscalculate. Our information could be misleading.”
Devil nods, then focuses on me. “You were saying, Mouse?”
He’s right, I haven’t finished. “I’ve got an idea about how we can deal with the numbers.”
Even those not going lean forward interested and let me proceed without interruption while I explain what’s on my mind. When I finish, Prez nods approvingly. “We’ll reassess when we get there. But I like it. I like it a lot.” He breaks off, an unusual smile comes to his face. “If it works, Mouse, think you might be stuck with a new handle.”
“Chief! Fuckin’ called it.”
It’s only Peg’s firm hand holding my arm that keeps me in my seat. And Shooter’s scalp in place.
After the meeting, I go to find Drew. He’s retreated to his suite next to mine, and is sprawled out on the bed doing his homework. He looks up, his face worried, when he sees me leaning against the door frame.
“Shouldn’t you be in bed?” I ask. It’s going on eleven o’clock.
He shoots me a look only a teenager can master, then jerks his chin down to his work. “Need to hand this in tomorrow.”
Can’t fault him for his diligence. “When you’re finished…”
“I am.” He puts down his pen. “Just been checking it over.”
“Need a word.” Walking across, I move some papers out of the way, and sit down on the bed, cross-legged.
“Yeah, I’m sorry.”
“Sorry?”
He’s mumbling, looking down. “What I called you. Didn’t mean to be disrespectful.”
I snort, realising he’s referring to when he’d seen me going down to the storeroom earlier. “Hey, Buddy. That was the effect I was going for, okay? You’ve spent time on the Rez. You know today’s Navajo aren’t any different from anyone else. But sometimes it can be effective to pretend. To fulfil another’s expectation. To play on their fears. You with me?”
“Did it work?” he asks eagerly. “What about the men who tried to take me?”
“Yeah, it did.” I grin. “Questioned them. Got answers. Sent them on their way.” I don’t add they’ve been dispatched with a one-way ticket to meet Satan.
His eyes widen. “Fucking pussies. They gave all the info up? Just because you had war paint on?”
I punch his arm lightly. “Worked on the white folks, didn’t it? Scared the shit out of the settlers when they saw us all dressed up.”
He giggles, like he’s meant to.
I chuckle too, then grow serious. “You okay, Drew? After today?” I worry he might have been scared and that being in danger might have scarred him.
“Fuck, yeah, Mouse. With all the brothers there? I knew nothing could go wrong. You all had my back.”
Not for the first time, I worry about him starting swearing, but don’t have it in me to admonish him now. I give him a nod, then tell him, “We think we know where Mariana is… Drew! Sit down. Whatever you’re thinkin’, forget it. There is no way on this earth you’re comin’ along. Okay?” I wipe my hand back through my hair in exasperation. “We didn’t keep you safe today, just to lose you tomorrow.”
“Is that when you’re going?”
With a jerk of my head, I confirm it.
He stares at me. An expression so fierce, any of my ancestors would be proud of it. He looks like he’s going to beg to come along. I’m starting to compose arguments in my head why he shouldn’t, when he surprises me. “Just promise me you’ll bring her back, Mouse. If I can’t come with you, I want to know I can trust you.”
“Drew. If I can’t bring her back, it will be because I’ve died trying.” It’s true. I’ll give my life for hers, die before I give up. The thought doesn’t worry me. The brothers coming with me will be of the same mind, which means we won’t fail. There’s too much to lose. For all of us.
In the morning, he says goodbye like a man. A handshake, a brotherly hug, a slap on my leather. I step back, holding him at arm’s length, ignoring his watery eyes. “I’ll bring her back,” I make the promise again. “I’ll be in touch as soon as we’ve got news.”
“Don’t worry, Drew. Cell reception might be non-existent where we’re going,” Drummer has the forethought to add. “Just because we can’t call, doesn’t mean we haven’t been successful.”
Drawing his shoulders back, Drew raises his chin at the prez.
I nod at Truck, who jerks his head in understanding. Kid doesn’t know it, but I made a phone call to Jacob earlier. While we’re gone, the prospect will take him to see the horses. I th
ought doing something different, riding and perhaps helping the old man like I used to do, might take his mind off what’s going on. Things which are out of his control.
Knowing I can’t do any more, anxious to get where I’m going, I go to my bike. Minutes later we’re riding in formation out of the compound.
When we arrive at the private airport just outside Tucson, Devil’s already waiting by a hangar. We ride our bikes in and park where directed. Then, placing my cut in my saddle bag, I hoist my duffle over my shoulder. Guns, ammunition, knives. Including, for good luck, my ancient flint knife. I’ve a yearning to save it for Mariana’s father.
It quickly becomes clear most of the mercenaries are English, their accents sounding odd to my ears. But everyone quiets as Devil starts talking.
“I’ve got autos and semis on the plane,” he informs us. “If anyone’s short or something else takes their fancy.” Blade’s eyes light up at his suggestion, then the Englishman continues, “Two of my lads, Jones and Wessler, are snipers. There’s a couple of others not bad at a distance. Should help put your plan in action, Mouse.”
I nod. Seems he’s taking my suggestions seriously. As I follow my brothers up the ramp, I’m in a state of disbelief at the turn life is taking. I’m a computer nerd, I’m not someone who mocks my own heritage by dressing up, I don’t scalp people, I don’t draw up battle plans. And I certainly don’t fly thousands of miles to rescue a woman I’ve met on the outside just the once. Added to that, I’m going with the determination to bring her back and make her my wife.
Dropped down a rabbit hole? A sink hole, perhaps. But hey, maybe there’s more to life than being stuck behind a computer. Which reminds me… Opening my duffle I take out then pass around the maps and Google Earth images I’d printed out. Every man takes a copy and starts to study them.
The men indicated as Jones and Wessler start an animated discussion, presumably deciding the best places where they can set up.
For a private jet this doesn’t have much going for it. A utilitarian troop transporter from the look of it. I catch Viper’s eye. He’d envisaged a pretty steward handing out champagne. He gives a self-deprecating grin back. Well, last time—and the first time for most of us—we flew in the Emir of Amahad’s private jet when we attended his wedding. VIP treatment the whole way. I can well understand Viper’s disappointment. Me? I just hope this thing will fly, and that the engines are better maintained than the inside.
Take-off is smooth, and soon we’re in the air. Devil doesn’t give us a chance to relax, gathering his team, and us, around him.
Without introduction, he waves his hand in my direction. “Mouse. Want to let my guys in on your idea?”
A computer nerd detailing a battle plan? Yeah. That makes sense. I clear my throat. “There’s eighteen of us, we think probably double or more of them. Seems the maximum could be fifty, but that’s unlikely as not all the men are often there at the same time. But we’re going to be outnumbered. If we storm the compound, then they’ve got the upper hand.” I wait for the nods of assent. Seems everyone’s with me so far. I unfold one of the photos of where we’re heading. “What we’ve got to do is deplete their numbers.” I point to a weakness in the defence. “My proposal is that a raiding party goes in here. Makes a disturbance, gets attention, then gets out of there fast.”
“Raiding party?” One of Devil’s guys raises an eyebrow.
Marvel nudges my arm. “Get on with it, Chief.” He smirks.
I ignore them. “The men inside will give chase; another team will be waiting to finish them off. In the meantime, we make a simultaneous… attack…,” I’m now choosing my words carefully, “on another part of the compound. Here, I’d suggest.” Again I move my finger on the paper. “Also here, if we can.”
“Six on one team, two others of five.” Devil joins in. “Three to get their attention, the others waiting to finish them off. That leaves our snipers to pick anyone else who escapes. Don’t want them to regroup and catch us from the back. Mouse’s plan means they won’t know how many they’re up against, and which direction the next salvo is coming from.”
“Causing confusion. I like it.” The mercenary whose name appears to be Carter gives a wicked grin.
It’s the way the Navajo raiding parties worked. Get the enemy confused, chasing their tails. Small groups of Navajo took out much larger enemies. If it was successful for them, can’t see why it wouldn’t work for us.
“Once we’ve decimated their numbers,” it’s Devil’s show now, “we join up and approach the main building, entering here and here.” Now it’s him pointing to the entrances, front and back.
“Need any survivors?” Wessler asks, his tone indicating he doesn’t care one way or the other.
“I want them all dead.” I’ve no doubt about that.
Devil sends me a quick look. “If we can capture El Procurador, all well and good. But the team’s safety, and that of Mouse’s woman, comes first. Shoot to kill.”
“I want to find Mariana.” That’s my sole aim.
“Yeah. Once inside, Drummer, your boys can focus on finding the woman while we try to take El Procurador.”
The rest of the journey is spent fine tuning our approach, with Devil assigning us to teams. As there’s six of us, Satan’s Devils will be sticking together. It makes sense. We know each other’s strengths and weaknesses. Blade, myself and Marvel are all the fastest sprinters, so we’ll be the ones going inside first. When we’ve picked up pursuers, Drummer, Viper and Dollar will be waiting to take them out.
How Devil arranged it, I’ve no idea. But we land in Colombia at a private landing strip where transport is waiting. It’s a four-hour journey to our destination. In the trucks, we’re mostly silent, all thinking our own thoughts. I’ve checked my guns and ammunition, and go over the plan again in my head. At least after the initial forays, I’ll be searching for Mariana. Where is she likely to be held? Is her father treating her like a treasured daughter? Will I find her in the main house? There’s no way of knowing.
As if he’s reading my mind, Drummer leans over. “El Procurador is the key, Mouse. Get to him and make him talk. Your ol’ lady might even be with him.”
“Yeah. Got your scalping knife, Chief?”
I shoot Blade a disdainful look, not bothering to again tell him my knife is multi-purpose. Perfectly good enough to do the job of cutting throats. I’m glad I brought it with me, somehow hoping it will be a conduit to the spirits of my ancestors, and bring me good luck. Today I’m not the man who sits behind the computer, I’m on the front line. Gradually I feel the white in me fading, my warrior side coming to the fore. Mariana. My muscles start to tense in anticipation, my back becomes straighter. Hold on, Mariana. I’m coming for you. The thought of what I’ll do when I find her, of bringing her home, I push to the back of my mind. No room for distraction. Just focus on the task.
The last time I saw her, she said she hated me. I’d put that to the back of my mind. But now I feel so close to rescuing her, it worries me. She hadn’t meant it, had she? It was only something flung at me out of her own desperation. Wasn’t it? If not, I’ve fuck all chance of making her my old lady. Shit. Worry about that later. For now, I have to concentrate on fulfilling my promise to Drew to bring his sister home.
Once again everyone’s fallen silent.
When the trucks halt, it’s a trek across open country. Devil’s mapped out a path which takes us through forest then along a tree line. Eventually the compound comes in sight. Drummer leads our team to the prearranged location, then we wait.
We’re going on a timed entry. Drummer studies his phone. “Going in five.”
In my head I’m going through the countdown, and then Blade, Marvel and I are off.
We’re the first to attack. Getting over the wall proves easy. Silently we approach the first guard. Blade slices his throat, then throws a grenade. A few shots give away the position of our attack, then we’re running back fast, sprinting to get away.
&n
bsp; Shots fire around us, but none hit. As expected, a few guards flood out to our point of entry. Drummer, Viper and Dollar have our backs and take them out.
Now there’s firing the other side of the compound. Some guards look panicked, and start to run towards that sound. We make our second approach; I shoot one in the back with no remorse.
They turn. We run. Drummer and the others again do their stuff. A third approach and we find no one, though there’s still sporadic firing from the other side of the compound.
“Let’s get into the house,” Drummer suggests. “Devil’s got the others distracted.”
“They might have retreated inside,” Viper inserts.
“Yeah, so take care, Brothers.”
Inching around the building, using the brickwork to protect us, we approach the rear entrance. Yup, a couple of their soldiers are guarding it, but we’re fast and take them out. A back corridor, a door leading downwards. We ignore it for now, and carry on into the house.
Devil’s men have entered. A quick nod shows he’s taken the rest of the men guarding the exterior out. The only casualty is the man called Carter, and that’s just a graze to his arm. He seems more annoyed than incapacitated. Slowly we clear all the downstairs rooms. There are some women looking scared in the kitchen.
Questioning them in quickly spoken Spanish, Devil discovers they haven’t seen the woman who had been living in the house for a while. Whether they’re lying, he can’t tell. We lock them in the pantry. From the sight of them they won’t be a threat, but we’re not taking any chances.
There are two floors above us. Shouts of ‘clear’ come from each room.
Satisfied, when apart from the kitchen staff, and of course, us, the house seems devoid of life, Devil swears when he can find no trace of El Procurador, or his lieutenants. I’m devastated that Mariana can’t be found.
“The door. There’s a basement,” I remind Drummer.
“Could be El Procurador’s escape route,” Devil suggests. “Carry on searching,” he says to his team. “They might have a priest hole or something.”
As Drummer looks at him in confusion, Devil explains. “Old houses in England have hidden spaces where priests used to hole up when the Protestants were killing Catholics. Hard to find, but that’s the type of shit we’re looking for.” His men, mostly British, all nod. One starts moving a tapestry, one pushes at a wardrobe to see if it will slide. “I know he’s here, somewhere.” Devil looks disgusted.
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