Bolan let it end there. He could plead his case for only so long. It was up to Escobedo to make his own decision. If he was inside the house, he had to choose. Either way, the man was in no position to run, now that his hiding place had been discovered.
Bolan fixed his attention on the adobe-and-timber structure. He could understand Escobedo’s reluctance to show himself. Doubt would be weighing heavily on the man.
The front door creaked opened slowly, revealing a shadowed figure standing inside. Bolan recognized the face from the photograph he had seen at Stony Man.
Hermano Escobedo.
As the Mexican advanced a few feet, Bolan saw that he was unshaved, his face a little thinner than in his photo. He simply stood and stared at the American.
“So how do you intend to save me?” he asked. “If that is truly what you’re here for.”
“By getting us both away from this place. Mariposa will send his people to look for you. I left a crew dead in Ascensión. Others back along the road. Mariposa will send more.”
Escobedo moved out of the doorway, his eyes scanning the area restlessly. “You could be working for Jessup,” he said. “Simply drawing me into the open so you can kill me.”
“If that was the case, I would have already shot you.”
“Unless you are playing with me. Letting me believe you bring help, before I die.”
“Hermano, I am not deceiving you. I have come to help.”
“Is this true? That you killed men who were hunting me?”
“Yes. I had no choice. They were ready to shoot me down if I hadn’t done it to them first.”
All the time Escobedo listened to Bolan, he never stopped looking around suspiciously. It was obvious he wanted to believe his words, but was finding it difficult. Bolan spotted the heavy knife the fugitive gripped in his right hand. It had been hidden by the leg of his pants, but became exposed when he moved forward.
“Father Xavier thinks a great deal of you. He told me about this place. How it belonged to your grandparents until they died. It must have been hard for you to come back.”
“What choice did I have? Jessup’s men made it impossible for me to stay in Broken Tree. They murdered the two policemen sent to protect me. They would have killed me then, too. Who else could I trust after that? I had to make a choice. So I came back here to hide, and to decide what I’d do next.”
“And what is it you want to do?”
“I want to see Seb Jessup pay for what he did. For murdering those young people. And for other crimes he’s likely guilty of.”
“Then let’s do that, Hermano. Go back to the US and testify. Let me make sure you can point your finger at Jessup and have him put away.”
“He will do everything he can to prevent that.”
“People don’t always get what they want.”
Escobedo was quiet for a moment, considering. “Can we do this? Against all these people?”
“We can give it a damn good try.” Bolan slapped a hand against the side of the vehicle. “And our enemies have supplied us with the transport to do it.”
“Let me collect my things,” Escobedo said.
When he came back outside, he had a backpack over his shoulder.
“Let’s go,” Bolan said, sliding into the driver’s seat.
Escobedo stared out the window as they left the farm behind. “This is the second time I have walked away from my home,” he said. “When I left before, I was going to find a new life in America.”
“We can still make that happen, Hermano. If you’re willing to take a stand against Jessup, anything is possible.”
“I imagine even Father Xavier would find a miracle like that hard to accept.”
“Then we need to convince him.”
15
The helicopter dropped quickly, swinging in over the farm buildings, dust swirling in gritty clouds. Under Rico’s sure hand, the aircraft held in a steady hover.
“You think he’s in there?” Candy asked.
Mariposa snapped out orders. Two of his crew checked their weapons and moved to the side hatch. They dropped ropes and went down hand over hand, letting go for the last few feet. The instant they hit the ground, they converged on the house. They kicked the door down and went inside. They emerged quickly and Candy saw one of them shake his head.
“Son of a bitch is gone,” Candy said.
“That will be your American,” Mariposa growled. “Your Matt Cooper. I’m going to enjoy putting a bullet in that hombre.”
Rico set the chopper down some distance from the house. Mariposa climbed out, Candy close behind. They met up with the men already on the ground.
“Someone has been living in the place for a while,” one of them said. “Ashes in the fire are still warm.”
Another soldier waved a hand to the north of the property. “Tracks,” he said. “Wide tires, like the ones on our missing SUV. I think the yanqui has been here and taken Escobedo away with him.”
“Cooper will make a run for the border,” Candy said.
“Then let’s make sure he doesn’t make it,” Mariposa retorted. “There is nothing but empty country between here and the US. We’ll spot him now we know which way he’ll be going. Vámonos.”
They all returned to the helicopter. Rico boosted the power and the aircraft rose from the Escobedo farm. It gained height, then angled to the north.
“That son of a bitch knows how to turn a situation to his advantage,” Candy said. “Takes down your guys and commandeers their vehicle.”
“A good soldier makes the most of what he can salvage.” Mariposa shrugged. “Losses or gains, he picks the best from every battle.”
The guy will want to pin a medal on Cooper next, Candy thought.
He slumped in his seat, considering how Jessup would respond to the latest developments. He certainly wouldn’t be as casual as Mariposa. Jessup would be ready to tear out Cooper’s insides and feed them back to him raw. What he would do with Escobedo didn’t even bear thinking about.
They’d been flying only a few minutes when Rico pointed out movement below. It was a vehicle.
“See, I knew we would find them,” Mariposa said. “Go down. Get close to them. Muchachos, have your weapons ready.”
Rico maneuvered the helicopter, dropping altitude and taking the aircraft in a long, swooping trajectory that brought it in line with the SUV. On his first pass, he flew low over the vehicle, causing it to swerve. The tires threw up clouds of dust.
“Again,” Mariposa said. “I want him to see he cannot avoid us.”
* * *
THE CHOPPER BUZZED the SUV twice, causing the vehicle to sway in the backdraft. Bolan didn’t see any law enforcement insignia on the bird, and he didn’t need much else to tell him this was an A La Muerte attack. Maybe even Mariposa himself.
Bolan figured the pilot was doing his best to unnerve him. Maybe even cause him to crash. If the guy became ambitious, he might even try to nudge the SUV. The only point in Bolan’s favor was that there had been no gunfire. Yet.
He accelerated, pulling ahead of the aircraft, then slammed on the brake and came to a sudden stop. The chopper overflew the SUV, and in the short time it took to double back, Bolan ordered Escobedo out of the vehicle.
He had spotted a clump of boulders about fifty yards away.
“Get to those rocks,” he shouted. “No time for explanations, Hermano. Just do it. Now. Stay under cover until I tell you different.”
Escobedo turned and sprinted away, disappearing among the boulders as the chopper came overhead once more.
Bolan stepped out of the vehicle, shouldering the AK-74. No bullets had been fired from the aircraft, but he wasn’t about to let A La Muerte have the first shot.
16
Cooper started firing as soon as the low-flying chopper made its next pass. His first shots were off target, but the follow-up rounds found their mark, punching holes through the aluminum fuselage and forcing Rico to veer away from his position.
>
As the helicopter turned aside, Candy watched the man take a moment to steady his rifle, then he fired again, even as Rico fought to gain height.
The American scored another hit, this time placing a shot through one of the side windows.
The Plexiglas exploded, showering the crew with splinters. The slug hit one of Mariposa’s men in the neck, tearing a ragged hole and severing his carotid artery. Blood began to spurt from the ugly wound. The guy clasped a hand to his throat, then keeled over, blood flowing in copious amounts as his heart pumped it from his body.
Mariposa began to curse, loudly. In the rear of the cabin, the other men were all calling out advice to one another, but they were killers, not medics, and none of them knew what to do. In truth, Candy realized, the guy who had taken the hit was a dead man from the moment the slug made contact.
Sure enough, the flow of blood began to slow as the man’s heart failed. Finally, his head lolled to the side and his eyes glazed over.
“Circle back,” Mariposa screamed at Rico. “There’s no way that bastard is getting away now.”
The pilot shook his head. “We can’t get too close. He’s too good a shot.”
“Then set down out of range and we go in on foot. I will not play games any longer. We land and we go after him.”
Candy fingered his borrowed AK-74. He was no coward. He had stalked and killed his share. But there was something about Cooper that worried him. Something that—and he hated himself for even thinking it—scared him. He couldn’t figure out what it was. The guy had the ability to overcome anything that stood in his path. He clearly had combat experience that enabled him to take on bigger odds and walk away. Candy only had to think back to the Jessup men he had taken down in Broken Tree. Then the list of A La Muerte shooters here in Mexico. The nervy son of a bitch just kept coming, regardless.
Candy had to admire Cooper’s skill. The way he kept knocking back the opposition. All things considered, maybe a man was right to be nervous going up against him. Cooper wasn’t invincible, but he was doing a damn good job convincing everyone he was.
Rico lowered the chopper, touching down with barely a bump. As the aircraft settled he cut the power, the rotors making a whooshing sound as they began to slow. Mariposa’s crew disembarked, taking the dead guy with them. They laid his bloody corpse on the ground, then stripped him of weapons and spare magazines, distributing them among themselves.
“Let’s move,” Mariposa ordered. “Find them. Kill them both.”
His soldiers moved off. Mariposa and Candy watched them go, then fell in at the rear.
“Jesus,” Candy muttered. “My momma was right when she told me never to leave Texas.”
* * *
BOLAN SAW THE helicopter move away, clearing the area. It started to descend, then slipped out of sight behind some low hills. He waited long enough to confirm it wasn’t veering back toward them, then went to find Escobedo among the boulders.
“What’s happening?” the Mexican asked.
Bolan lowered his rifle and signaled for him to come out of hiding. “Let’s get back to the vehicle. We need to move.”
They returned to the SUV and jumped inside.
“They’re not risking the chopper,” Bolan said. “Right now, they’ve landed. They’re coming toward us on foot. Time we got away from here.”
He reached into the rear, where he had put his additional weapons. He grabbed a Glock autopistol and made sure there was a full magazine in place, and that the gun was cocked.
“You ever fire one of these?” he asked Escobedo.
The Mexican shook his head. “Never had the need.”
“That day looks like it might have come,” Bolan said, handing him the pistol. “Glock 17. It’s ready to fire. Just aim at the target and squeeze the trigger. There are seventeen rounds in the magazine. Hit a man and he’ll know it. Don’t try to be fancy. Aim for the widest part of the body.”
Escobedo took the Glock, examining it as if it was some alien artifact.
“I’m not a killer, Cooper. Why would I want to shoot people?”
Bolan revved the engine and spun the SUV away. The AK and Uzi were propped against his seat, his Beretta close in its shoulder rig.
“An easy answer there, Hermano. The men chasing us are killers. Unless you want to die out here, you’ll have to defend yourself. This isn’t the time to get into a debate over moral issues. What it boils down to is whether you want to live and put Seb Jessup behind bars.”
Escobedo set the Glock in his lap. “I believe you see life in black-and-white, Cooper. To you there is good and evil. Only dark and light.”
“Simpler than I would describe it, but right now that pretty well sums it up. You witnessed something you shouldn’t have. Jessup wants to bury you so the story won’t come out. Right now we have a group on our backs who want to make that happen. Question is—you happy with that?”
“Of course I don’t want Jessup’s men to find me. My life may not be as important as some, but it is to me.”
“When you witnessed Jessup killing those people, you reacted the way any decent person would. You wanted to make things right. It meant you put yourself in harm’s way, yet you still stood up and offered to help.”
“And little good it has done me. Those agents were murdered because they were going to help me. That was when I realized how useless my gesture had been. So I turned around and ran. I came here to hide. Not a very courageous thing to do.”
“You were one man. Alone. Unsure who to trust. You acted to protect yourself. No shame in that.”
“But it didn’t work. Jessup has found me. He sent his killers to make certain I don’t return to America and point the finger at him.”
“Then we have to make sure he doesn’t get what he wants.”
“He is a powerful man. He has money. And friends. In Broken Tree he is muy importante.”
“Broken Tree is a small town, Hermano. Jessup is a big fish in a little pool. If we play our cards right, we can drag him out of it.”
A hesitant smile edged Escobedo’s lips. “That I would like to see.”
“If you want to see anything other than the inside of this car again, I suggest you pick up your gun.”
Out the corner of his eye, Bolan saw armed figures cresting a nearby ridge. The men scrambled forward, weapons raised. Bolan glanced out the side window. Saw the A La Muerte shooters leveling their guns. Saw the muzzle flashes as they opened fire.
Mariposa’s crew had caught up with them, and right now were making their presence felt…
17
Bolan felt the solid thump of slugs against the Escalade. The SUV rocked as he swiveled the wheel. One of the rear windows shattered.
Escobedo was speaking rapidly in Spanish. Bolan couldn’t make out whether his words were curses or a swift prayer. The Mexican sat rigidly, his knuckles white as he gripped the Glock.
A figure broke from cover, closer than any of the others, AK raised as he confronted the SUV. Bolan slammed down on the gas pedal and felt the vehicle surge forward. Realizing his foolish move, the A La Muerte soldier made an attempt to pull back. The Cadillac sideswiped him. Bolan felt the impact, caught a glimpse of the guy as he was tossed through the air, arms and legs flailing. He crashed to the ground, his body coming down hard, twisted at an unnatural angle.
“Go left. Go left here,” Escobedo said urgently. “This way will take us to the regular trail.”
Bolan saw a gap in the thick brush and hauled the SUV around, leaving a thick cloud of dust in his wake. The suspension took the impact of the undulating ground, the heavy vehicle bouncing over iron-hard ruts. The route took them on a downward slope, and after a couple hundred yards opened up onto a defined track.
Escobedo turned to stare out the back window. “This trail will take us to the north.”
“They can’t follow us on foot,” Bolan said. “They thought they could outflank us. It hasn’t worked.”
“Won’t they go back to the
helicopter?”
Bolan nodded. That was a given. And once they were back in the air, the chopper could monitor their line of travel from a safer distance. Even call in more ground crews. Any reprieve he and Escobedo had imagined they might have would be short-lived.
* * *
“BREAK OUT THE machine gun,” Mariposa said as they reached the helicopter.
Rico already had the rotors spinning, prepared for the crew’s return.
“What machine gun?” Candy asked. “Hell, you didn’t say you had got a machine gun in here.”
“I had other things on my mind,” Mariposa said. “Then was not the best time. Now is the time.” He turned to his crew. “Move. Get it mounted in the door.”
Candy watched the cartel soldiers fall over each other in their haste to drag the machine gun from a side compartment, pulling out a metal ammo box, as well.
Why hadn’t Mariposa used it before? As an army, these guys were a mess. Coordination and order were obviously not in their operating manual.
The weapon was an M240, 7.62 mm general purpose machine gun. Candy had used the M240 himself on a number of occasions. He watched the cartel members mount the gun on pintles by the side door. An ammo box was attached and the belt of 7.62 shells placed in the feed tray. The mechanism was closed and the weapon ratcheted to load it.
While they worked, Rico fired up the chopper and it lifted off the ground. He set his course for the fleeing SUV.
“Rico, get us in range,” Mariposa said, his voice rising above the clatter of the rotors and the wind coming in through the now open side door.
The chopper turned, angling as Rico hurled it in the direction of the SUV, which was below and just ahead.
Mariposa was yelling at his crew to open fire.
The sudden rattle of automatic fire filled the helicopter as the M240 came to life. Ejected brass casings began to litter the deck. The cartel soldier manning the weapon had his fingers closed tight around the trigger as he sprayed the SUV.
“She’s hit,” someone said triumphantly. “Madre. She is hit.”
The Cartel Hit Page 10